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

wet paper towels over face and leave during confusion.”

“Isn’t that blasphemous?” Baldwin asked skeptically.

“Not Quran. Book of poems by Abu Tammam. Fake cover.”

“Where are these books?” Evarts asked.

“Dorm room. On desk. We were told to leave them in plain sight.”

“Did you believe a wet paper towel would protect you against this poison gas?” Evarts asked.

“Yes, yes. Of course.” He hesitated. “If not, Allah is with me.”

Evarts sat back and thought. It sounded plausible. Too Plausible? He wanted to believe it, but it ran too close to their suppositions, something that seldom happened. He looked up at Baldwin and made a phone gesture with his hand. She immediately turned to face the rear door to call Crenshaw. They would at least know about the books soon enough.

“What’s your name?” Evarts asked.

“Omar.”

“Okay, Omar, let’s assume for the moment that you’re telling the truth. How many cells does your organization have operating in D.C right now?”

“One. There is—”

Evarts interrupted. “Darn, you just lost all your credibility. There are three focused on setting off these bombs around my city. How do we find the other two?”

“I know nothing of other cells. They tell us only what we need to do our job.”

“Who is they? Who do you work for?”

“Allah.”

“You were sent here by a mortal. Who?”

“Some people. I do not know names.”

Evarts took out his knife and flicked it open in one smooth action. He put the point just under Omar’s eye and nicked the skin enough to draw a few drops of blood.

“Wrong answer.”

“If I tell you, you will not know it. It will just be a word you do not understand.”

“Tell me.”

Evarts nicked the skin above the eye this time and blood trickled into Omar’s eye.

“Ikhwan! Ikhwan!” Omar screeched.

Evarts sat back. Methow had told him the teams were completely compartmentalized. It was doubtful Omar knew anything about the other teams. What further information did he know? Was there any reason to continue this interrogation?

“You bastard, you cut my eye. Please get doctor. They must save my eye. I must see. My job is photographer. I must have eyes.”

Evarts was surprised by the outburst until he looked at Omar. His right eye was pool of red liquid. The cut about the eye had started bleeding profusely. Evarts knew it was minor, but the blood pool would interfere with his vision.

“Tell me something that helps me, and I’ll get you the best eye surgeon in our nation.”

“Forbidden Fruit. Forbidden Fruit.”

“Forbidden fruit?” Evarts asked. “What does that mean?”

“Escorts. In D.C. Forbidden Fruit serves Muslims.”

“What has this … are you saying the other cells may have used escorts from Forbidden Fruit?”

“Yes, yes. Get me to hospital. You promised best doctor. I trusted you.”

Evarts stood and retrieved another towel. He saw a cabinet with drawers aplenty and started opening and closing them. He soon found butterfly bandages. In a minute, he had the eyelid dried and the bandage applied.

“There, fixed,” Evarts said. “I’m not the best eye doctor in D.C., but I’m all you need.”

“He need gravedigger,” Adham said from behind him. “I heard, traitorous scum.”

Just then the ambulance came to a halt and shortly the doors flew open. Evarts and Baldwin stepped out into the sunlight smiling at each other.

There’s nothing like emerging from a gunfight as the winner.

Chapter 67

O’Brian had arranged a reception at Walter Reed. The ambulance was met by doctors, orderlies, and enough military police to quell a small riot. That didn’t surprise Evarts. What did surprise him was that he had to sign transfer orders for the two detainees. He signed with his alias, which would irk the bureaucrats who had drawn up the orders. He cautioned the sergeant in charge that the two men wanted to kill each other and to separate them immediately. His message was reinforced by loud profanities in Arabic coming from inside the ambulance.

Evarts and Baldwin were still smiling as they walked away. When they were out of earshot, Evarts asked, “Crenshaw?”

“The books were in plain view in both rooms, just like Omar said. The FBI lab will examine them, but they already found a cooperative Muslim who assured them that these volumes were not Qurans.”

Baldwin picked up her pace and made a beeline to a lunch wagon up ahead. Evarts knew she was going for coffee, so he wandered over to an open grassy area alongside the hospital to call O’Brian. It went to voicemail, so Evarts hung up and sent a text message requesting that he call immediately. He ended the text with two words: major lead.

He waited less than thirty seconds.

When he answered the ringtone, O’Brian said, “What’ve you got?”

“Forbidden Fruit, an escort service that caters to Muslims. Our detainee believes members of the other cells used this service.”

The phone went dead. That didn’t surprise Evarts. O’Brian was probably in a meeting, plus he wouldn’t want to lose a second running down the escort service. He hadn’t bothered telling O’Brian that the FBI had taken possession of the devices the Ikhwan were intending to use in today’s attack. He would already know everything of significance that had happened at the Georgetown Conference Center.

Baldwin walked over with two cups of coffee. They sipped silently for a few seconds.

“What now?” Baldwin asked agreeably.

“Not sure,” Evarts said. “Maybe go back to the hotel and relax a spell. We’ve thwarted todays bombings and done as much as we can about the plots against Air Force One and Congress. O’Brian and the FBI are fully capable of following through on the escort service. If they learn anything, they’ll round up the other cells.” He took another sip of coffee. “What do you think?”

Baldwin said, “I think we’ve done our duty.” She smiled coyly. “Let’s go back to the hotel while adrenaline still pumps through our veins.”

Without further discussion, Evarts took out his cell phone and called for a taxi.

As he put the phone in his pocket, Evarts watched a man in a smart-looking suit walk purposely toward them. He didn’t appear to be from the hospital,