WASHINGTON,D.C.
The decision to head to the airport had been relatively easy. Reimer hadn't heard back from the Russians, and the bevy of search warrants that had been served had yet to produce any explosive evidence. They were at a standstill in an investigation that Rapp had no real control over. In addition, Rapp's people were telling him that they thought al-Yamani was already gone. The upper echelon of these terrorist organizations didn't martyr themselves. They let the new recruits do that. Several of the CIA's top analysts were predicting that al-Yamani had already left the country and was on his way back to his cave.
Rapp checked the clock. It was 3:08, which meant he'd be cutting things a little close for his flight. He was just pulling into long-term parking at Dulles when his digital phone rang. He checked the number before answering. It was McMahon at the Counterterrorism Center.
"What's up?"
"You at the airport yet?"
"Yep. Just pulling into the parking ramp."
"Well...we've got an interesting development that I thought you might want to hear about."
Rapp rolled down his window and grabbed the ticket. "I'm listening." The arm popped up, and Rapp drove under it.
"The Virginia State Police called. We've got a possible I.D. on Imtaz Zubair."
Rapp eased up on the gas. "Is he in custody?"
"No, and this is where the story gets a little confusing. The report is that he was I.D.'d by a deputy sheriff who pulled a vehicle over for a routine traffic stop. Apparently the deputy was on his way back to his car to run a check on the driver when he was hit by a passing car and knocked unconscious."
"When and where?"
"Just north of Richmond at approximately one this afternoon."
Richmond was only an hour and a half south of D.C. "Have you talked to the deputy?"
"No, and we can't. At least not for a while. They just rushed him into surgery to relieve the swelling on his brain."
Rapp knew from the security tapes at the Ritz in Atlanta that Zubair had been there on Wednesday evening, and had left in the middle of the night.Why was he headed toward Washington? "Do we have a description of the car?"
"Yes. It's a Ford F-150 extended cab, late nineties model, hunter green and tan. He was traveling with two other guys, and the report is that the driver had an accent."
"Was there anything in the bed of the truck?"
"Not that we've heard, but we're getting our information third-and fourth-hand, right now."
Rapp stopped the car. "They could already be in Washington."
"The State Patrol doesn't think so. They had a trooper on the scene just four minutes after the deputy was hit, and they got out a description of the vehicle almost immediately. Within twenty minutes they had a plane and a helicopter in the air, one patrolling ninety-five and the other searching the surrounding area. My agent who spoke to them says they're fully staffed for the holiday weekend. They are virtually guaranteeing that this truck is still in the Richmond area."
"Any chance one of the other guys in the truck was al-Yamani?"
"I have no idea. This deputy isn't due out of surgery for at least another hour."
"Is he going to make it?"
"I have no idea, but listen. I know your wife is going to be pissed at me, but I need you to get back here. There are some things..." McMahon hesitated. "Some things that Paul and I need you to help us with."
Rapp could tell that whatever it was, McMahon didn't want to talk about it over an unsecure line. "She won't be half as pissed at you as she will at me. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
Rapp pushed the end button, swore to himself three times, and didn't move for nearly ten seconds. He just stared at his phone and tried to figure out how he was going to explain this to his inquisitive wife without giving her any details. He tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and decided he'd put it off for a little while longer. If he was lucky, by the time he got back to the office, the fugitives would already be in custody. If that was case, he could probably wrangle Kennedy into arranging transportation on one of Langley's executive jets. Rapp knew this was all wishful thinking, but it was better than calling his wife right now and hearing the disappointment in her voice.