The Enemy Within

Corbell made sure the President could see him and nodded slightly, privately signaling his own agreement with the Attorney General’s heated comments. The Georgian kept his own reasoning quiet. Though the alliance had been frayed by the lack of progress so far against these radical white-power terrorists, black Americans were still one of the administration’s most loyal constituencies. Seeing federal soldiers shooting black Americans in the streets of Chicago would only inflame an important political bloc they would need desperately in the next election.

“What are you proposing, then, Sarah?” the President asked sharply.

“I suggest that we focus on the real enemy here the radical right. They’re the real menace not the inner-city poor. So I propose a renewed push by you for much tighter gun laws. This is a golden opportunity to move our legislation through the Congress.” Carpenter’s eyes gleamed.

“After all, if we can disarm the crazies, we’ll solve most of this terrorism problem once and for all.”

She shrugged. “Beyond that and pressing the FBI’s ongoing investigations forward at a rapid pace, I see no need to panic.”

Along the Potomac, near Georgetown

(D MINUS 32)

Two miles west of the White House, the quarter-mile-wide Potomac River drifted lazily past a wooded northern shore. A national park established to preserve the remnants of the historic Chesapeake & Ohio Canal separated the capital city’s elegant and exclusive Georgetown district from the river. Across the expanse of slow-moving water, the modern steel and glass skyscrapers of Rosslyn, Virginia, dominated the southern skyline.

On mild days, the clerks, waitresses, and waiters who worked in Georgetown’s trendy boutiques, antique stores, and restaurants found the canal park and the Potomac waterfront a pleasant place to eat lunch or read a book. But it would be far too cold for that today. Even the light breeze coming off the river intensified the chill. The weak sun was blocked by scattered high-altitude clouds, giving the morning light a grey, thin quality.

Sefer Halovic sat with studied calm in the back seat of their chosen transport for this operation a black Ford Econoline van. All Nizrahim sat next to him, nervously glancing out the side windows from time to time. Nizrahim was a light-skinned Iranian, a small man with long experience in the use of special weapons. Khalil Yassine, their Palestinian driver and scout, was behind the wheel. They were parked facing the exit of the small car lot near the treelined Chesapeake & Ohio Canal. Only the steady rumble of rush-hour traffic heading into downtown Washington along the elevated Whitehurst Freeway broke the early morning stillness.

Yassine had stolen the Econoline in Maryland the night before. Now it bore North Carolina license plates stolen weeks before and held in readiness for just such a use.

All three men were dressed in jeans, running shoes, and dark-colored winter jackets. All wore black gloves. Their outfits were effectively anonymous, devoid of anything distinctive that might draw attention to them now or that potential witnesses might remember later.

Both Halovic and Nizrahim carried 9mm pistols in shoulder holsters under their jackets. Yassine had their heavier small-arms firepower hidden beneath the empty seat beside him an Israeli-made Mini-Uzi with a twenty-round magazine. With luck, Halovic thought grimly, none of their personal weapons would prove necessary. The park had been empty at this time and in similar weather on previous days.

Besides his sidearm, the Bosnian also carried a small walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. It was tuned to National Airport’s Air Traffic Control frequency, but right now it wasn’t producing much beyond static and the occasional squawk. Yassine had a larger tactical radio with better reception up front, and he wore headphones that helped cut out background noise. His radio was tuned to the same frequency.

Halovic laid a hand on the two long green tubes propped up against the seat beside him. He stroked the cold metal appreciatively. These were the real reason they were here.

He shifted slightly and checked his watch. This was ordinarily a busy time for the airport as the early morning flights from all over the country began arriving with planeloads of families bent on touring their nation’s capital, government workers on assignment, and lobbyists determined to shape laws for their clients. The timetable for this mission was fairly precise molded by the minimum intervals between incoming flights and their scheduled arrival times. But Halovic also knew that the vagaries of weather and mechanical malfunction could throw the timetable off.

That was why he’d kept the plan simple.

Yassine looked up sharply, with one hand held to his headphones. He glanced into the back seat. “We have one! He just turned on to final.” The Palestinian quickly craned his head, scanning the area around them again. “All clear!”