I went to the nurses' station to sign for Kate's personal effects and to see if they had any information about her surgery, and also to check on the security arrangements.
The hospital staff knew by now that Kate was not an ordinary accident victim, and they knew who I was. The supervising nurse, Mrs. Carroll, assured me that there were uniformed troopers outside the operating room and at the elevators. Everyone on duty, including hospital security staff, had been briefed to be on the lookout for a man whose photograph they'd been given by the State Troopers.
As for Mrs. Corey's condition, the nurses had no new information, but Mrs. Carroll strongly suggested that I stay in the surgery waiting room because that was where Dr. Goldberg would look for me. I also had the impression that no one wanted me wandering around in my bloody skydiving outfit.
I promised to return to the waiting room, but I needed to be a cop while I waited, so I went instead to the elevators where two uniformed State Troopers stood, one at each elevator.
I showed them my creds and identified myself as the husband of the victim, which explained my bloodstained jumpsuit.
Both troopers had been briefed, and they appeared intelligent and alert. If they were a little incredulous regarding the possibility of the perpetrator showing up at the hospital to check on his victim, they hid it well. I asked to see the photo they had of the suspect, and the older of the two, Trooper Vandervort, gave me the photo in his hand.
I looked at the color photograph that had been taken in the American Embassy in Paris three years ago when Asad Khalil had shown up one day and declared himself a fugitive from American justice. He was surrendering, he said, and wished to cooperate with American intelligence agencies. Let's make a deal. He'd had a preliminary interrogation by the CIA in Paris, but he insisted on being flown to New York-not Washington-and then he clammed up until his demands were met and he was put on a 747 to JFK. Someone should have smelled a rat, but Asad Khalil was such a high-value defector that the CIA, FBI, State Department Intelligence, and everyone else let their giggles get in the way of their training and common sense.
I and Kate Mayfield had been part of the team sent to JFK to meet Asad Khalil and his two on-board escorts, an FBI agent and a CIA officer. Also on the meet-and-greet team that day were Nick Monti and Meg Collins, both murdered by Khalil, along with a civilian government employee, Nancy Tate, who was a nice lady.
The survivors of the meet-and-greet team were me, Kate, FBI agent George Foster, and Mr. Ted Nash of the CIA, who just missed dying that day and barely missed dying on 9/11, but did not miss his date with death at the hands of Kate Mayfield. Life is funny. But that's another story.
I looked closely at Khalil's photo. He was a swarthy man in his early thirties with a hooked Roman nose, slicked-back hair, and deep, dark eyes. The Libyans, I'd learned, were a diverse mixture of people who liked to play with swords-the native North African Berbers, the Carthaginians, the conquering Romans, the barbarian Vandals, and finally the Arabic armies of Islam.
This, I suppose, was all in Khalil's blood and in his features, and he'd been able to pass himself off as Egyptian, Italian, Greek, and even Israeli. His core identity, however, was killer.
He actually spoke some Italian as well as French and German as a result of living and operating in those countries. He also spoke fairly good English, and in my cell phone conversations with him, I was happy to discover that he understood my informal English, such as when I called him a camel fucker and also suggested that his mother was screwing Muammar Khadafi, the Libyan president. Yes, Investigator Miller, I definitely pissed him off. Apparently, he was still pissed. Me too.
I handed the photograph back to the trooper and said, "This man has killed people all over Europe and America, including law enforcement people. He is very dangerous and very smart, and he has been known to stay on the scene to finish a job." I added, "His facial features are distinctive and yet he has successfully changed his appearance in the past." I advised both troopers, "What doesn't change is his eyes. If you see those eyes, that may be the last thing you'll ever see. Be very alert."
They both looked at me as though I was a little off my trolley, but they nodded politely.
As I was walking to the surgery waiting room, my cell phone rang, and I saw it was the home number of the boss, Tom Walsh, FBI Special Agent in Charge of the New York Anti-Terrorist Task Force.
I answered, and Walsh said, "John, I'm so sorry. How is Kate doing?"
"Still in surgery." I kept my eye on the doors that lead to the operating rooms.
"My God… I can't believe this." He got down to business and said, "I heard your report to Janet." He let me know, "We will devote all the necessary resources and those of our colleagues in local and Federal law enforcement to apprehend this individual."
I thanked him, of course, though I thought that should go without saying.
Tom Walsh is an okay guy, though we've had our run-ins. He's also a political animal, and he tests the winds from Washington about four times a day. Plus, as I said, he's into withholding info and overthinking every operation. His worst fault, however, is underestimating the cops who work for him. He demonstrated that now by asking me, "John, are you sure that this person you saw was Asad Khalil?"
"I'm sure."
"You made a positive ID?"
I thought I just answered that question. I said, "We spoke, Tom. Hanging from our parachutes." I added, "Kate was quite close to him- about six inches, nose to nose-and she IDed him by name. Khalil." I asked him, "Is that positive enough?"
Tom Walsh would not tolerate sarcasm from his FBI agents, but he'd learned that the NYPD on his Task Force could be a bit cranky-especially the contract agents, like me, who could tell him to take his job and shove it.
Having said that, I now needed this job to find Asad Khalil. So maybe I should be nice to Tom.
Walsh said to me, "In your report, you suggested that Asad Khalil has returned to CONUS with the intent of exacting revenge on the people in our Task Force who worked on the original case three years ago."
"That's right."
"And that's why he attacked Kate."
"I think that's a very logical assumption."
"Right… but… that seems like a very elaborate plan. You know?"
"Psychopaths engage in elaborate rituals, Tom."
"I know… but…"
Tom Walsh knew he needed to be more patient with me than he usually was. My wife was in critical condition, and I was distraught. He actually didn't care about my emotional state-except as it affected my predictably unpredictable behavior-but he did care about Kate, who was one of his own. He liked her personally and professionally, plus losing an agent was not good for a supervisor's career. Walsh, though, had some cover there because Kate was off-duty when it happened.
In fact, he said to me, "I didn't know you and Kate skydived."
"We were going to surprise you with that."
He changed the subject and said, "You reported that Kate's duty weapon is missing, and so is her cell phone."
"Correct."
He made an intelligent observation: "The Glock in Khalil's hands is a problem, but most likely he already has his own weapon. The real problem is the cell phone."
"Agreed. But it could be an opportunity."
"Correct. The Communication Analysis Unit is running a trace on its signal."
"Good. But I'm sure Khalil turned it off. He's not stupid. The opportunity comes if he turns it on to use Kate's phone directory."
"Right. But assuming he's savvy, he knows he can't keep the phone on for more than a minute or two before CAU pinpoints the signal." Walsh added, "I'm sure he has his own cell phone for long conversations, and since we don't know his number, it can take us awhile to trace his signal if and when he calls one of our phones."
Tom Walsh doesn't exactly talk down to people, but there's a thin line between him stating the obvious and him thinking he's giving you new information. I resisted telling him I really understood the technology and said, "Maybe we'll catch a break."
"Maybe." He reminded me, "Remember that Saudi guy who forgot to turn off his cell phone?"
"I do." I stated the obvious: "The Saudi guy was sloppy and stupid. Asad Khalil is not."
"Most of them are stupid."
There was some truth to Walsh's statement. Most of them were stupid. But even stupid people get lucky, and if the truth be told, sometimes we were more stupid than they were. That's how 9/11 happened-their stupid luck, our stupid heads up our asses. We've got a lot of that straightened out now, but the other side was getting a little smarter. In this case, Asad Khalil started out smart three years ago, and as I said, I didn't think he'd gotten stupider since the last time he was here.
Continuing with the subject of stupid, I said to Tom Walsh, "I assume you sent out a mass text message to all agents regarding this incident."
He replied, "Of course."
I reminded him, "If Kate's cell phone is actually in Khalil's hands, Khalil is now able to read all our text messages."
There was a short silence on the phone, then Walsh said, "Damn it."
I took out my cell phone and saw that I, too, had Tom's text message, though I hadn't heard the chime. I retrieved the message and read: NY ATTF-FBI Agent Kate Mayfield criminally assaulted in Sullivan County, NY. Possible suspect, Asad Khalil, a known terrorist, Libyan national. Her medical condition classified. See your e-mail for full details, updates, and operational instructions, or call Ops Center. Amber alert. BOLO and APB sent. Walsh, SAC, NY ATTF.
So that is what Asad Khalil had most probably read, right from the boss. Walsh was correctly withholding Kate's medical condition, leaving Asad Khalil wondering if he'd had a good day or a bad day. In any case, Khalil now knew that everyone was looking for him-but he knew that anyway.
Walsh said, "We'll cut off the service to that phone immediately."
"Good idea. But before you do that, send out a final text saying, 'Two Libyan informants in NY Metro have come forward with info on suspect Khalil in CONUS. Check e-mail for details and operational instructions regarding apprehending suspect.'" I added, "Or something like that."
Walsh was silent for a few seconds, then said, "Okay. I'll do that."
And take credit for it. I said, in case he didn't fully get it, "That should spook him, and maybe keep him away from his resources here and mess up his game plan."
"Right. Good."
Tom Walsh and I discussed cell phones for a minute, since that was about all we had at the moment.
While I was half-listening to Walsh, I had a thought that I should have had an hour ago and said to him, "You should also alert George Foster."
"Right… we've contacted everyone about the attempt on Kate's life. You saw the text."
"I did. But what I'm saying, Tom, is that Khalil is here for revenge, and George was on the original team assigned to meet Khalil at the airport three years ago, and George worked the case." I added, "Assume Khalil knows George Foster's name."
"Okay."
Tom Walsh wasn't around when Khalil was here with a long list of must-kill people, and Walsh wasn't fully appreciating the nature of the beast. I suggested, "Call George yourself, or have him call me."
"All right."
I wanted to impress on Walsh the serious nature of this problem- and also ruin his day-so I said to him, "You should not think that Asad Khalil hasn't considered killing you as well."
There was silence on the line, then Walsh said, "We have no idea what his intentions are, aside from his attack on Kate." He added, "And by the way, I'm wondering, why didn't Khalil just pull a gun and blast both of you on the ground? You know? This skydiving knife attack really doesn't make much sense."
"Not to you. But it does to him." I suggested, "When you get to the office, pull up The Lion file and see what Khalil did last time he was here, and how he did it."
"All right." He informed me, "We're managing the news on this, John, so be careful what you say, even to the State Police."
"I think I said that in my recorded report."
"Right. Also, there are some agents from Washington on their way there, and I'll assign a detective and an FBI agent from the Task Force."
I informed Walsh, "The guy who is handling the case here is Senior Investigator Matt Miller of the Bureau of Criminal Investigation." I gave Walsh Miller's cell phone number and said, "He seems competent, and he's got the troopers out looking for Khalil."
"Good. We will assist in any way we can."
"He's looking forward to that."
Tom Walsh advised me, "The CIA may also have some interest in this case."
The best reply to that was no reply, and I said, "There's a guy you need to locate. His name is Elwood Wiggins, a.k.a. Chip Wiggins. He was one of the pilots on the Libyan air raid back in eighty-six, and he was on Khalil's original hit list, but we got to him before Khalil did. Wiggins is in our file. Last known address, Ventura, California. When you locate him, have the local FBI office pay him a visit and tell him the Libyan is back." I added, "Also, he needs protection." Actually, I was certain that by this time what Chip Wiggins needed was an undertaker. I said to Walsh, "But we may be too late for that."
Walsh stayed silent for a moment, then said, "All right. I'll let you get back to Kate-"
"She's still in surgery."
"And if you feel you need to take leave time to be with Kate-"
"I will, after we find Khalil." On that subject, I said to him, "I assume I am the case agent on this investigation."
There was a silence on the phone, then Walsh said, "Well-"
"Tom. Don't mess with me."
"Excuse me, Detective. I believe I am still in charge of this Task Force."
"And I believe I should be the CA."
He replied, "The thing is, John, if Kate… takes a turn for the worse, or whatever, then you will want some time off, and I need to assign this case to someone who can stay with it."
"I will stay with it. I am very motivated."
"Yes, but you don't know how you'll feel if Kate-Look, to be quite honest, you may be too emotionally involved to… use good judgment in dealing with the Muslim community."
I thought he was going to mention Big Bird's assault on me, but he didn't, so I assured him, "I have very good relations with the Muslim community in New York." That was actually true, though I had perhaps gotten a little rough with a few of them, but that was immediately post-9/11. I've been a lot nicer in the last year or so. Well… unless you count Big Bird. But he wasn't a U.S. citizen.
Tom Walsh said to me, "John, I will promise you this-you will be assigned to the case, but I can't promise you that you will be the lead case agent. I'll think about that. Meanwhile, George Foster will lead the FBI end, and you work well with him." He added, "End of subject."
No use arguing and pissing him off, so I said, "All right."
"Good. Meanwhile, I'll speak to Captain Paresi and have him call you." He let me know, "I've asked the hospital to keep me updated. My prayers are with Kate."
"Thank you."
"One more thing. If the State Police apprehend him, and if we don't have any agents there yet, please don't speak to the suspect or do anything that might compromise our case against him."
"Why would I do that, Tom?"
"And keep in mind, John, that Khalil may have a wealth of information that we can coerce out of him."
"I won't kill him."
He didn't respond to that directly and said, "I know you're angry, but don't get yourself in a bad situation." He reminded me, "We don't do revenge-we do justice."
Is there a difference? I replied, "Right."
We hung up, and I walked back to the waiting room. I went to the window and looked out at the countryside and the mountains. The sun was still high above the distant peaks in a blue, cloudless sky. The morning of September 11, 2001, had been a perfect day, like this.
Kate and I had arrived separately at the North Tower, and we each thought the other was inside the building, so when it collapsed, I thought she was dead, and she thought I was dead. That day changed our lives, but it didn't change our careers.
I kept staring out the sunlit window. It was a beautiful world, and ninety-five percent of the people in it were beautiful. I, unfortunately, have spent most of my life with the other five percent, trying to whittle them down to about four percent.
I had mostly gotten over the serve-and-protect thing years ago, and what motivated me for most of my police career was my own ego-I was smarter than any killer who had the audacity to murder someone on John Corey's beat. Then came the Anti-Terrorist Task Force, and I got a little patriotic buzz going, especially after 9/11.
And now it all came down to personal revenge and me asking God to help me kill Asad Khalil. And I was sure that Khalil was right now asking God for the same favor.
Only one of us was going to have his prayers answered.