Abuse of Power - Michael Savage [90]
“The girl who was suffocated?”
“Yes,” Sara said. “Someone I recruited.” A faraway look crept into her eyes and Jack knew the loss must have been difficult for her.
“So where is this Haddad guy now?”
She quickly refocused. “We’re not sure. We lost him here in London, after he killed another one of our agents.”
“Jeez. The guy sounds like a one-man jihad.”
“Well said. That’s why we think he’s the point man on whatever Zuabi’s planning in San Francisco, and we’re assuming he’ll be headed there soon.”
“On a diplomatic passport, no doubt.”
She nodded. “Bob Copeland was our man on the ground over there, but with him gone we’re not sure who we can trust.”
Jack wondered why Copeland hadn’t been more forthcoming. Then again, the way things were looking back in San Francisco, Sara was right. If Zuabi’s people had managed to infiltrate the British government, who was to say they weren’t working on the Americans as well. So Copeland had to play it sly, as he always did.
As if reading his thoughts, Sara said, “He told us about you. Copeland.”
“It would have been nice if he’d told me about you.”
“We instructed him to be cautious,” she replied. “You’re a journalist. We did not know whether you would put a story, a scoop, above a principle.”
“I remember when those two went hand in hand, when members of my profession kept D-day a secret and hit the beaches with the first wave,” Jack said.
“That’s the reason I’m telling you all this now. Copeland insisted that you might be a valuable asset down the line.”
“Down to the wire, you mean.”
“That, too. And it may not be far off.” She eased herself forward wearing a grave expression. It was as though she were telling herself she had rested enough. More than anything, that gesture told Jack how little time might be left. “Abdal al-Fida thought I was just like him, a die-hard extremist. He may not have told me much, but he once said that the infidels would soon see destruction that would dwarf 9/11.”
“You’re talking nukes.”
“I am. You’re aware of the recent leak of diplomatic documents revealing that al Qaeda was sourcing nuclear materials and hiring scientists to build dirty bombs for use against Americans. Jack, al Qaeda isn’t nearly as well connected and well funded as the Hand of Allah.”
“Operation Roadshow,” Jack said ominously.
She nodded. “Coming to a city near you.”
26
Eurostar, London to France
It was late afternoon and they were aboard the Eurostar, a high-speed train that connected London to Paris through the Channel Tunnel.
Once they’d gathered their strength and left the hotel, Sara had taken Jack to an old boxing gym near the Tower Bridge where the task force kept private lockers—both men’s and women’s—in case of an emergency.
The men’s locker contained identification documents, money, and prepaid cell phones, along with a toiletry kit and several changes of clothes. The IDs were useless to Jack—he still had his Israeli passport with him, and it would have to do. He found a pair of slacks and a shirt that fit, and a suede leather jacket that was much like the one he’d left with Rabbi Neershum in Tel Aviv.
He also found a small theatrical makeup kit, a savvy addition to the provisions. There was a passable beard inside. That would save him having to explain why his passport showed him with a beard while he had just a stubble. He would put it on at the terminal; it wasn’t something he just wanted to spring on Sara.
After a hot shower, he put on the new clothes then retrieved his father’s watch from his old pants pocket and strapped it to his wrist.
He found Sara in the gym, watching a couple of over-the-hill boxers jab at each other in the ring. She had also showered and changed, now wearing dark jeans, a tight gray T-shirt, and a black leather jacket, her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail—every bit the modern woman.
The gym was crowded and several of the men were staring at her. As Jack approached her, he didn’t need them to remind him how stunning she was, and it was difficult for him to look at her without wanting her. Especially