The Last Patriot - Brad Thor [91]
By his third drink, he had become quite persuasive and was actively engaging God out loud, iterating point by point why he should be given the opportunity to kill an animal like Dodd, when his phone rang.
“You sound terrible,” said one of Ozbek’s DPS operatives named Beard. “Did I wake you up or something?”
“Or something,” replied Ozbek. “What’s going on?”
“Two things. We put tripwires on Marwan Khalifa’s e-mail accounts like you asked and we just got a hit.”
Ozbek set his drink down. “Inbound or outbound?”
“Outbound.”
“So he’s alive.”
Beard paused a moment. “That’s the second thing. The Italians have ID’d Khalifa’s body with the dental records we sent them. He’s dead. They’re positive.”
“So what’s with the e-mail?” asked Ozbek.
“Somebody appears to be using it to pose as him.”
“Pose how?”
“Apparently,” replied Beard, “Khalifa had an appointment on Monday morning at the Library of Congress. Whoever’s posing as Khalifa has moved the appointment up to tomorrow in Annapolis.”
“You’re sure this wasn’t some e-mail that was typed previously and somehow was just delayed in being sent?”
“Nope. There have been two exchanges in the last hour.”
“Who is he communicating with?” asked Ozbek.
“Anthony Nichols.”
It has to be Dodd, thought Ozbek as he stood up so fast he almost knocked his table over. He’s posing as Khalifa so he can draw Nichols out. “Does anyone else know about this?”
“No,” said Beard. “You’re the only one.”
“Keep it that way,” replied Ozbek.
“What are you going to do?”
“Never mind,” he ordered. “Just get me copies of everything right now.”
“Right away,” replied Beard.
Ozbek hung up the phone and screwed the cap back on his bottle of Makers Mark.
Not only did the Lord work in mysterious ways, he thought to himself, but He was also incredibly fast. He would have made an exceptional CIA operative.
CHAPTER 64
Harvath returned to Bishop’s Gate and found the professor in his office. “You’re still up?” he asked.
“Lots to do,” replied Nichols, who then nodded at the manila envelope and soft canvas bag Harvath was carrying.
Approaching the desk, Harvath set the envelope down, opened the mouth of the bag, and withdrew a beautiful wooden box similar to the one the Don Quixote had been kept in at the Bilal Mosque in Paris.
It was crafted from the same hardwoods and included Thomas Jefferson’s inlaid initials. Harvath set it on the desk. “The president said you would know how to open it.”
“One of Jefferson’s many secrets,” replied Nichols as he delicately went to work. He noticed Harvath admiring the box. “A piece of art, isn’t it?”
“It is,” said Harvath.
“Are you familiar with puzzle boxes?”
“I had a few of them as a kid,” he replied. “My father and I even made a couple of our own together. Nothing as beautiful as this, though.”
“What was he like?” asked the professor as he slowly unlocked one of the side pieces and then proceeded to the next link in the sequence.
Harvath smiled. “He was tough as hell. But my mother and I knew he loved us—a lot.”
“He passed away?”
“A while ago,” said Harvath. “Just after I got out of high school. He was a SEAL instructor. He died in a training accident.”
The professor looked up from the box. “I’m sorry about that.”
“So am I.”
Moments later, Nichols depressed the inlaid initials and tilted open the lid. The interior of this box was lined with velvet and upon it sat Jefferson’s wheel cipher.
Nichols removed the device, set it reverently upon the desk next to the Don Quixote, and then, almost as an afterthought, handed the box to Harvath to examine.
For several minutes, neither of the men spoke. At last, Harvath broke the silence. “So you’ve got everything you need now. It should be simple from this point forward,” he said as he handed the puzzle box back to the professor.
Nichols laughed. “We’ve come a long way, but I’ve learned that nothing about Thomas Jefferson is ever simple. He has been referred to as the Great American Sphinx. It’s one of the best descriptions I ever heard of him. The same author also made