The Toymaker (12 page)

“Why doesn’t Wiley leak this to the creators?” Jake rolled the ball on the table noticing the rubbers studs stop the ball from rolling. “This could have some very useful real-life benefits for law enforcement and fire departments.”

“It certainly could. And the original model has been used for those exact purposes. But you can see the problems if the advanced RTI fell in the wrong hands. That’s why the bureaucracy won’t let it reach commercial use. Now let me show you how the software works.”

Jake spent the next three hours with Kyli learning the intricacies of the RTI including troubleshooting in the event any unforeseen circumstance arose.

“Okay, let’s pack this up so it’s ready to go.” She dropped a padded backpack on the table. “Everything has a pouch. Load it up.”

It took Jake less than a minute. “All finished.”

“Good job, Jake. Let’s go.” Kyli motioned toward the door. “I have a big night in store for you.”

Jake felt the conflict playing tug-of-war with his emotions.

“Jake, do I make you nervous?”

“No, not at all.” He lied.

CHAPTER 20

Mosque De Trappes

Trappes, France

H
ASHIM KHAN MET with the leaders of the Trappes Islamic Association in a room behind the men’s prayer room. The imam, or worship leader of the mosque and the TIA, wanted assurances from Khan that the planned attacks would not implicate the Muslims of Trappes. He gave them that assurance—he lied.

Deception had become an integral part of his life. A part of his life he prayed would not keep him from Paradise. With the growing trend of political correctness among Muslims trying to break the
terrorist
stigma, deception was a necessary evil.

Earlier in the day, Khan had picked up a shipment of laser printer toner cartridges from the shipping company in Versailles. Contained in those crates were five well-hidden, lead foiled covered cartridges with C-4 explosives packed inside plastic coated and sealed rollers. All made possible by the creative ingenuity of the Hilal Shipping Company of Aden, Yemen.

Martyrs from the Yemen cell arrived in Paris on separate flights originating from varying locations, each with specific instructions. Step-by-step directions allowed them to never cross each other’s paths, and arrive at the Mosque De Trappes at designated times. All five were safely tucked away in the basement dormitory making final preparations for the suicide attacks. Each man was given his own cot, his own prayer blanket, and his own footlocker to store the last of their possessions. Possessions that would be shipped back to their families with praises of each man’s martyrdom. He had given them one week to prepare. Seven days to make peace with Allah. Seven days to cleanse themselves.

Seven days to live. Seven days until Paradise.

TIA followed Khan’s orders—acquiring everything on the list. Now it was his time to go to work. He scanned the material on the tables. After he assembled each unit, filling each of the cylinders with explosives and steel balls then wiring them into the fabric, the suicide vests weighed roughly thirty-five pounds. Hidden beneath overcoats, the C-4 blast would kill anyone within a forty-foot radius. The power of the explosives would cause major structural damage as well as amassing multitudes of casualties.

Khan used extra precaution since the Australian cell had been taken out. The world authorities now suspected there might be further attacks and tightened security. He’d planned for that scenario.

His martyrs in France would leave hundreds dead, an effective blow against the infidel.

Khan planned the attacks and only Khan knew when and where the attacks would occur.

Attacks.

Plural.

He’d chosen two of Paris’ icons, guaranteeing high tourist attraction and high body count. But that was only half his plan. The major blow, the highest body count, would come later when he attacked an unsuspecting United States location. A location where large numbers of unsuspecting men, women, and children jammed into unsecured areas.

When Khan attacked there, the death toll would reach into the thousands. America and the world would soon realize that no place was safe. And once again, al Qaeda would be responsible for the free world’s stripping its citizens of their rights and privileges—all in the name of security.

The free world would evolve into a police state.

CHAPTER 21

J
AKE STEPPED OUT of the shower just as his cell phone started ringing. He towel dried his thick dirty blond hair as he walked toward the phone. He looked at the Caller-ID. A number he didn’t recognize.

“Jake Pendleton.”

“Jake, I just wanted to let you know you can sleep in tomorrow morning. Kyli will pick you up around noon. I’ll bring you up to speed when we leave for Yemen. We need to arrive after dark so we’ll eat on the plane. Kaplan and someone from the Delta team will meet us in Aden.”

“Have you found another pilot?”

“Don’t worry, Jake. We’ll have two pilots.”

There was a knock on Jake’s door. He wrapped the towel around his waist.

“Sir, if that’s all...”

“One more thing Jake. Kyli’s a free spirit, don’t let her get you in trouble.”

“I can handle Kyli, sir.” Another knock on the door. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Good to know.” Wiley clicked off the phone.

“Just a second.” Jake threw the towel on the floor and pulled on his pants.

Without a shirt on, Jake opened the door. She stood in front of him wearing a layered gray dress with black nylons and knee length fur-lined boots. The purple streak in her hair was gone. She had thrown her black jacket over her shoulder.

“What the…? Why aren’t you dressed? You need to get your ass in gear mister or we’re going to be late.”

“I didn’t know I was under a time constraint. I’ll be dressed in a minute.”

He started to close the door when Kyli pushed it open and walked in. “Hurry. I’ll be waiting…" She sat on the couch. "…right here.”

Jake grabbed his clothes and took them into the bathroom. “I just got off the phone with Wiley. He says you’re trouble and I should stay away from you. Is that true?”

“You spent all day with me, Jake. I’m a scientist, what do you think?”

He walked out of the bathroom buttoning his shirt. “I think there’s something neither one of you is telling me. Something between the two of you. He sounded either jealous or protective. I’m not sure which. My guess is he’s either your lover or your father.”

Kyli doubled over laughing. “You’re wrong on both accounts. If he were my lover then there’d be something wrong with both of us. I just turned twenty-eight and he’s seventy-one. That’d make him a creep and me very desperate, which I assure you I am not. Of course, if he were my father, then my name would be Kyli Wiley. How cool would that be?”

“Then what is it? It’s more than employee, employer.” Jake slipped on his shoes and grabbed a jacket.

“Mr. Wiley’s oldest daughter, Mira married Michael Wullenweber, my father. My parents met in Germany and lived there until my father died. I was five. Elmore Wiley is my grandfather. He moved my mother and me to the States and has taken care of me ever since.”

“Elmore? Seriously?”

“Seriously. And don’t you dare tell him I told you either.” Kyli got up and walked toward the door. ”Are you ready?”

“You still didn’t tell me where we’re going.”

“I’ll let you figure it out. Where are we? Geographically I mean.”

“Belgium.”

“What month is this?”

“Last time I looked it was October.”

“There you have it. All the information you need. You’re supposed to be so smart, you figure it out. You’re in Belgium in October. Where are we going?” Kyli opened the door.

“I don’t know. I give.” Jake threw up his hands.

Kyli slapped him on the chest. “Oktoberfest. It’s party time.” She walked out the door.

Maybe Wiley was right. She could be trouble. A scientist with a wild streak, the combination might be entertaining.

† † †

The nightstand clock displayed a blurry 10:30 the next morning. His head pounded. His stomach felt like a volcano about to erupt. Jake couldn’t remember much about last night—his memory erased like a cleaned chalkboard.
How much did I drink?

The last time he’d been that drunk was on graduation night from the Naval Academy in Annapolis, where he graduated Valedictorian. He suffered a two-day hangover that time. The next closest he could remember was one night he and Beth drank too many Margaritas in the hot tub at his mountain retreat in Ellijay, Georgia.

His last memory of Oktoberfest was the large stein of beer forced on him by Kyli, his third. Nothing after that.
What happened last night?
More importantly, how did he get back to the hotel? He lifted the sheet on the bed. And where were his clothes?

He tried to sit up. The room spun and he fell back onto the pillow. He rolled over and a wave of nausea hit at what he saw next.

Kyli’s purse and jacket were stacked on a chair. Her bra was on the floor and her nylons wadded up on the couch.

Shit
. Not now. He found Kyli attractive but he’d never slept with a woman he’d only known for one day. Less than a day. How could he face Wiley? Her grandfather, for crying out loud.

A click at the door grabbed his attention as the door swung open. Kyli walked in with an aromatic pot of coffee and pastries on a silver platter. “Look who rose from the dead.”

She put the tray on the coffee table by the couch and picked up her nylons and bra. “Oops.” She stuffed them into her purse.

She walked to the window and parted the curtains allowing a strong beam of sunlight to brighten the room. “Time to rise and shine, lightweight. I would have thought a Navy man could hold his liquor better than that.”

“What the hell do you mean ‘lightweight’?” He squinted. He pointed to the chair. “Did you stay here last night? Did we…uh, you know?”

“Did we partake of carnal pleasures with each other?” She laughed. “Is that what you’re asking, lover boy? Don’t you remember?”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember much of anything about last night.”

 “I guarantee you one thing.” Kyli leaned over the coffee table and lifted the coffee pot. “If we’d…uh, you know, you would
not
have forgotten about it.”

“What the hell did I drink?” He put his head between his hands. “How did I get out of my clothes?”

“If you can’t remember, I’m not telling.” She poured two cups of coffee. “Cream and sugar?”

“Black. Thanks.” He reached for the cup. “You didn’t answer my question. What happened last night? Did we…?”

“Jake, you were so plastered. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t have. But you did have fun.” She waved her iPhone. “I have pictures. Did you know you’re a horrible dancer?”

“We danced?” He rubbed his eyes. “Oh no.”

“
We
didn’t dance. You danced.” Kyli held up her phone again. “Like I said, I have pictures.”

They talked for a while longer. After two cups of coffee, he was able eat a couple of pastries. His vision cleared, as did his head. But any memory of the night before had vanished into the wind. He could only rely on Kyli’s version and he didn’t like what he heard.

“Wiley wants you at the office around noon. Are you going to make it?” She walked over to the chair and picked up her things.

“Yes. I’ll make it.” Jake massaged his temples. “What are you going to do while we’re gone?”

“My good friend Kates is flying in tonight.” She pulled her keys out of her purse. “We’re going to Paris for a few days. We’ll probably go to the Eiffel Tower. Maybe even the Louvre. But definitely Champs Elyses.”

“Her name is Kates?”

“Kates. With an ‘s’ on the end. Not Kate. Not Katie. Kates.” Kyli grabbed her stuff from the chair and moved toward the door. “I’ll be back in an hour. Be ready.”

“Where you going?”

“Home. I live in a flat about three blocks from here. I needed to clear the cobwebs out of my head too, you know.”

“Just leave all your things here.” She said. “The room’s been booked for a month. Be sure to wear comfortable traveling clothes, Wiley will provide everything else.”

“Why do you call him Wiley? Why don’t you call the old man ‘grandfather’ or ‘gramps'?” Jake feigned a smile. The volcano wanted to erupt.

Kyli put her hands on Jake’s chest, stood on her toes, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for going with me last night. We had fun, whether you can remember it or not.” She opened the door, looked back at him and said. “By the way, anyone ever tell you you’re a good kisser?”

She closed the door and left.

Jake’s head spun. The wave of nausea overwhelmed him. The volcano was erupting. He ran to the bathroom and heaved into the toilet.

CHAPTER 22

I
SABELLA HUNT HAD lost track of time. She was able to keep up with her days and nights for a while but with the continual darkness of her prison, the drugs, and the beatings, they started to run together. When she was abducted from Hilal Shipping in Aden, the terrorist attacks planned for Paris were only two weeks away. She had to figure out how to escape—how to get away from her captors and warn Bentley.

She’d given up on a rescue; there wasn’t enough time left. A rescue now would waste precious time. Time the CIA needed to track down the two terrorists cells and neutralize them. During her last communication with Fontaine, he’d indicated Jake and Kaplan were in Australia planning to neutralize the cell that planned to attack Sydney.

She prayed they were successful.

Hunt’s years of conditioning and her strong will were keeping her alive. Her athletic prowess helped minimize the impact of the beating she received from the man she called Rotten Teeth. But she was getting weaker. It had been many hours since she drank the tainted liquid, days since she ate. Her refusal had meant more beatings. Her strong instinct for survival forced her to eat and drink even though she knew it would keep her in a drugged stupor.