Takedown

Less than four minutes after the killing began, the team’s weapons fell silent. A fog of cordite hung in the air. Ali removed his balaclava and radioed his men. As their situation reports came in, none contained the response he wanted to hear. There was no sign of Mohammed bin Mohammed anywhere in the building. As one of the men placed the electronic devices the Troll had explained would make the Americans believe each facility was still functioning, Ali quietly cursed and looked at his watch. Reloading his weapon, he tried to compute how long it would take to make it to Midtown.

Sixteen

ROOFTOP

309 EAST 48TH STREET

What do you mean, you can’t get a helicopter in here?” demanded Mike Jaffe as he gripped his encrypted satellite phone so tight it threatened to crack. “That’s bullshit. I’m telling you right now, if you don’t find a way, then our angel’s feet are going to end up touching the ground.”

Jaffe listened for several moments to the yelling on the other end of his phone and replied, “Negative. They can come in black after nightfall and lift us out. If not, I’m going to make other arrangements. Do we understand each other?” With that, Jaffe hung up and tossed the sat phone to his number two in command, a tall, ruggedly built, twenty-five-year-old Marine sergeant named Brad Harper.

“No go on the evac?” asked Harper as he tucked the sat phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Apparently, they’re not yet one hundred percent convinced that the attacks are connected to our pal downstairs.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. They’re the ones who informed us about the intercept in the first place. Al-Qaeda knows he’s here.”

“They know he’s in New York, we don’t know that they know he’s in this building.”

“So what are we supposed to do?”

“For the time being we stay put. An NYPD helicopter was just brought down by sniper fire, so now the air space above Manhattan is officially frozen until further notice.”

“Let’s go out by water.”

Jaffe shook his head. “NYPD, Port Authority, and Coast Guard craft have all come under heavy-caliber sniper fire as well on both the East River and the Hudson. They’ve also been ordered to pull back until further notice.”

“Then we’re not going to get any reinforcements.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“We run this just the way we rehearsed it,” replied Jaffe. “Full battle dress and weld the doors shut on our floor.”

“And then?”

Jaffe looked at Harper and said, “And then we turn up the heat on our prisoner and get the information we need out of him before it’s too late.”

Seventeen

When Harvath’s BlackBerry rang, he was still in a state of shock. Though nearly every civilian in New York City would find it impossible to use their cell phone at this moment because of the overloaded system, Harvath’s worked because it was tied to a special government program that granted priority access in times of crisis or emergency. Excusing himself, he walked to the other side of the roof. “Harvath,” he said raising the device to his ear.

“Scot, thank God,” replied his boss, Gary Lawlor. “Where are you?”

“In Manhattan. Twenty-third and First, on the roof of the VA Medical Center.”

“What can you tell me about what’s going on there?”

“We’re under attack. That’s what’s going on here. I just saw an NYPD helicopter blown out of the sky by an RPG. And from what I’ve heard, all the bridges and tunnels into and out of Manhattan have also been destroyed.”

“That’s exactly what we’re hearing here at DHS. All available local, state, and federal assets have been dispatched-marine units, aviation, you name it. They’re revving into full-blown search-and-rescue mode right now.”

“If you want me to suit up,” responded Harvath, “just tell me where I need to be.”

Lawlor pulled a paper from his desk and said, “There have been explosions at Air Traffic Control radar stations in New York and New Jersey, which have knocked the ATC system off-line in your area. Based on the intel I’m seeing, I’m worried that whoever did this may have a secondary agenda.”

“You think they’re trying to pull another 9/11?”

“We have no idea. When the sniper situation broke out at LaGuardia, the FAA started diverting flights, but anything is possible. Since you’re there, we need you to figure out what’s going on.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know. From what I hear, it’s already anarchy in New York. They’ve got a lot of good people on the job, but their coordination is falling apart, just like on 9/11. Everyone’s rushing to the nearest attack site to try to help pull out survivors. The overwhelming number of sites is breaking down response capabilities. I won’t be able to get you any support. At least not right now.”

Considering the magnitude of the attacks, Harvath wasn’t surprised, but he needed more information to go on. “ Gary, there are eight million people in New York City. Who am I looking for and what is the target?”