The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3) James Best (best books to read all time .txt) 📖

After further discussion on how to proceed, Adam’s asked, “Did you know your wife was playacting?”

Evarts gave his wife a glace and she smiled at him. “Of course. Despite being an academic, she’s seldom speaks politically correct lingo. Either of you two gentlemen married?” After they both nodded, Evarts added, “Then you know how your wives act when they’re angry. If you had really offended her, she would have cut you off at the knees with a sharp retort.”

Meadows spoke up. “Can you tell us how she saved your life?”

Evarts thought about the coming day and decided. “This is classified by two countries. I never said anything. Understood?” Both nodded. “We were on Pont Neuf during the Paris attack. Don’t bother trying to look us up. Any record of us has been expunged. By the French for national security reasons and by the CIA to protect us.” After another set of nods, he continued. “We charged two terrorists that were using scimitars to hack people to death. I killed the first one by shoving a selfie-stick through his neck. The second one was about to decapitate me when my wife yelled in French to stop or she would shoot. The terrorist turned in her direction and I picked up the first assailant’s scimitar and cut him nearly in two before he could return his attention to me.”

“Why didn’t she shoot him?” Meadows asked bewildered.

“Because she was pointing a finger at the killer.”

Chapter 60

They exited through an underground security check point leading to a parking area reserved for pool cars. Adams and Meadows had checked out a standard issue four-door sedan. Evarts and Baldwin recovered their weapons without incident, and the two agents seemed unsurprised that Baldwin carried a gun. Baldwin stuffed her nine-millimeter short-barreled semiautomatic into her purse. Adams and Meadows had also armed themselves and donned blue blazers with an FBI logo on the breast.

As Meadows drove, Adams briefed them on what the FBI knew about the school.

“Georgetown School of Foreign Service has been monitored ever since a member of the Saudi royal family contributed twenty million dollars for Islamic studies. We suspect the Islamic department has been bending toward radical doctrines. We’ve run background checks on presenters and attendees, and no known terrorists are in attendance. That doesn’t mean they aren’t there, only that our system doesn’t know about them.”

“Where’s the conference being held?” Baldwin asked.

“The Georgetown University Conference Center. It’s mid campus.”

“I’ve presented there,” Baldwin said matter-of-factly.

“Then you’re aware there’s a Guest House attached. Presenters have assigned rooms. Attendees are housed in dorms. Do you suspect one or the other?”

“Both,” Baldwin said simply.

“Then let’s start with the presenters. In fact, we’ll start with the names you gave us.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Baldwin said. “They’ve been careful up to now. I’d be surprised if they left such an obvious clue. It wouldn’t be beyond them to drop cookie crumbs that would lead us to decoys.”

“I thought you said the second highest honcho recommended these people,” Meadows said over his shoulder.

“He did, but besides being a terrorist, he’s a legitimate academic. He would know all the renown Islamic scholars. He could have recommended a few of the genuine article while burying the Ikhwan teams amongst the attendees.”

“Where do you want to start then?” Adams asked.

“With the recommended presenters,” Baldwin said. “Just letting you know I have reservations.”

After the short drive, they pulled into the campus and Meadows drove directly to the conference center and after showing ID, pulled into a restricted parking structure. Adams and Meadows had shown Evarts and Baldwin more respect after the description of the Pont Neuf attack. He hadn’t reveled their true names but if they were any good at their job, they would probably be able to dig them out from the information they had disclosed. Evarts had cringed when Baldwin had admitted presenting at the university conference center, but on second thought, wasn’t concerned. He didn’t care if the FBI knew, he just didn’t want their whereabouts disclosed to the Ikhwan.

Adams led them directly into the Guest House for visiting dignitaries. At reception, he showed his identification and asked for the first name on the list. The receptionist told them that he was with colleagues in the dining hall. He pointed to an open double door on the other side of the room.

The unadorned dining room was mostly empty. Six men in traditional Arab garb sat chatting at a round table. They appeared to have finished breakfast and were lingering over coffee. Evarts and Baldwin held back a step and allowed the FBI to take the lead. Adams displayed his badge and then respectfully told them this was a routine inquiry relating to two recent bombings. Adams didn’t request identification from the men or even their names. The Arabs maintained an unwelcoming demeanor. One of the Arab men took charge. He smiled broadly and said with an affable manner that they would help in any way they could.

Adams asked, “Have any of you heard anything that might assist us in our investigation?”

The jovial man answered. “No, nothing. We’re here for an Islamic conference that encourages cooperation between Christians and Muslims. It’s not really a venue for gossip about terrorist acts. The insensitivity would taint our working relationship.”

“Understood, and I apologize for the intrusion. Do you happen to know any others at the school that can assist us?”

One of the other men angerly asked, “Are you suggesting that a religious conference could be a hotbed of terrorism?”

“No, sir,” Adams answered smoothly. “Having graduated recently, we’re familiar with Georgetown University but unfamiliar with Islam. Seeing an alumni email about the conference, we thought maybe we could learn something from experts on the subject.”

“It’s not a subject. It’s our religion,” the angry man said. “Do you assume every Muslim is a terrorist?”

“No, sir, but—”

The jovial man remained agreeable. “Excuse me, has anyone claimed credit for these bombing?”

“Not yet, but—”

“Then why are you