The Last Patriot - Brad Thor [84]
While the two men were of average height and unremarkable facial features, their Arab appearance made it harder for them to blend into American crowds, even on a diverse campus like UVA. What’s more, they were stalking a professional—someone who instinctively checked for tails.
Failing to kill Andrew Salam when Hamza and Rafiq had had the chance was an unforgivable offense. Salam should have died alongside Nura Khalifa. The only thing that had redeemed the two Saudi operatives in Sheik Omar’s eyes was the exceptional job they had done planting the evidence of a failed relationship between the young man and woman.
Mistakes did happen, but that was not what Hamza and Rafiq were being paid for. Omar had brought them to America for results. He would not react well to another failure, which was all the more reason they had to succeed now.
Monitoring Randall Hall and Professor Nichols’ campus apartment had been a tedious chore, but Omar had insisted on it. The operation in Paris had been a total failure and the sheik was beyond angry.
Al-Din, Omar’s American assassin, had e-mailed the sheik French security-cam photos of the man and woman who had been helping Nichols. Hamza and Rafiq had been told by Omar in no uncertain terms what he expected them to do if they came across Nichols or any of his associates.
Hamza had been surveilling Randall Hall when the man had shown up. After checking his photo against the one he’d been given by Omar, he called Rafiq and instructed him to pick up their car and get over to Randall Hall as soon as possible.
They both carried pistols, but they were for self-defense only. Even suppressed firearms made noise and could draw unwanted attention. Any killing these men did was usually up close and personal, with their bare hands or a wide variety of quiet weapons like knives, needles, karambits, or any one of dozens of everyday items.
Just by how the man acted and carried himself while walking into Randall Hall, Hamza could tell that he was a professional. He was fit and agile, his eyes wary and alert. Though he dressed down with the clothes he wore, the man also had a formidable build. Even with the element of surprise, Hamza knew he would not be an easy kill. Too many things could go wrong and that was something they could not afford. That was why he had called for Rafiq. Together, the two of them could take him down without incident.
That was until he had suddenly left the building.
The man had been inside for less than ten minutes. As Hamza waited and then fell in a safe distance behind him, he used his Bluetooth headset to carry on a conversation with Rafiq and keep him informed of their position.
Dressed in jeans and hiking boots with a windbreaker over a denim shirt, Hamza carried a small backpack to better blend in with the student body population. It was a beneficial side effect of the 9/11 attacks that while Americans might be more suspicious of people who appeared to be Muslim, they had tied themselves in such politically correct knots that even campus police, fearing professional and personal discrimination lawsuits, would think four times before questioning someone who looked like Rafiq or Hamza. As a result, the two Saudi hit men had been able to roam the UVA campus with impunity.
Now, their problem was how to apprehend their target. Snatching someone off a crowded public street in Riyadh or Medina was extremely complicated. In America, it was all but impossible. The target would either have to be coerced into their vehicle or forced into an isolated area where he could be taken out.
Hamza was weighing the possibility of getting in close enough to use his knife when the subject suddenly turned.
CHAPTER 59
After doubling back, twice, Harvath began to believe he had imagined the whole thing. Nobody was on his tail.
When he was within half a block of his SUV, Harvath checked his six one more time, and decided to go for it.
With one hand on his remote key fob and the other gripped