The last things she remembered were the blast from under the pyramid, Kates being torn from her grip, and the pain as shards of glass ripped at her skin, stinging and burning. The back of her head felt damp and sticky.
She tried lifting her head, but it wouldn’t move. The man who fired the gun turned around and was walking toward her. Her eyes tracked his movements. She struggled to lift her blood-covered arm. All it did was drag across the concrete. She tried raising it again, but only her fingers twitched. “Jake.”
A wave of pain flooded her brain and the man disappeared into the darkness.
† † †
Jake scanned the courtyard and did an assessment of the situation. There were dozens of bodies scattered across the ground. Some alive, some dead. All bleeding. Jake counted thirteen people standing, moving around checking on the wounded, searching for lost loved ones, and trying to cope with the reality of what just happened.
Jake noticed a young woman nearby, tall and thin, calling a name. The back of her clothes covered in blood, her arms and legs covered in abrasions. At first he couldn’t understand whom she was calling. He could see she was scared and wandered aimlessly. Then, as she got closer, he heard the name she called. His heart sank—
Kyli.
He hurried toward the tall woman. She was at least fifty feet away. If she was Kyli’s friend, then he needed to get to her.
He noticed Kaplan sitting against the Mercedes holding a small child, probably unaware of Philippe’s dead body behind him. There was a woman rocking back and forth on her knees, the child in front of her looked dead. Dozens survived the blast only to bleed out from fatal penetration of glass shards.
Jake stepped over rubble as he moved toward the tall woman calling Kyli’s name when he noticed a woman laying face down, dozens of shards of glass protruding from her back and the backs of her legs. She had the same color hair and size as Kyli. Her face was covered in blood, her bloody arm stretched along the concrete toward him, fingers twitching.
“Kyli.” Jake reached down and moved her slightly. The woman was already dead—not Kyli. He let her fall to the concrete.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins, he had to find Kyli. He sidestepped a twisted piece of metal and spotted the tall thin woman again. He took two steps toward her and froze. He heard his name. He looked in the direction of the voice. Blood, glass, and debris covered the concrete between him and the voice.
He heard the voice again and recognized Kyli. She was laying face down, drifting in and out of consciousness. Glass sliced her skin on her arms and legs. A large piece was wedged just below the base of her skull. Her clothes covered in blood. Jake needed to get help.
Within seconds the courtyard filled with police cars and emergency vehicles. It became an amphitheater of noise and a kaleidoscope of flashing lights. Victims wept for those lost and called for those still missing. Sirens reverberated in Jake’s ears. He sat next to Kyli, holding her head still until the medics arrived. He looked at his hands. They were covered with blood—Kyli’s blood. It was happening again. His mind flashed back to Savannah, when he was holding Beth, his hands covered in her blood. He could think of only one thing.
Khan.
He would hunt Khan down.
Hunt him down and kill him.
CHAPTER 47
K
HAN FLED PARIS sooner than he’d originally intended. He hadn’t anticipated the gendarmerie closing in on the mosque as soon as they had, almost thwarting the planned bombings. He’d noticed two Americans in the GIGN Mercedes, one fair-skinned with lighter hair. The other his polar opposite; dark skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. The two could be trouble. He wondered if they were somehow connected to the failure in Australia or the explosion in Yemen. If so, they were tracking him so he needed to proceed with extreme caution.
He decided to stick with his original plan, a week in San Sebastian playing the rich Spanish playboy. His French was good, his Spanish better. He’d change his appearance the first full day in Spain, haircut, shave his beard, and a new wardrobe. When he made his connection in Madrid, he knew he’d be scrutinized. His olive skin and dark features would lend him the air of authenticity he needed as a citizen of Spain traveling west for a visit to America for a business conference.
Khan wasted an hour in downtown Paris abandoning the van in a seedier section of the city, leaving the keys in the ignition. He walked to the nearest Metro station, changing trains multiple times until he ended up at the Porte d’Ivry station. He walked the half-kilometer to a nearby garage where a stolen black Audi had been stored.
At each Metro station television monitors broadcast the devastation at the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower. Khan had drastically overestimated the damage the bombs would cause at the Tower. Although closed for inspection, the damage to the Eiffel Tower was minimal and the number of casualties low. Conversely, damage to the Louvre was extensive, the pyramid entrance completely destroyed.
Khan drove the Audi on a predetermined route westward toward the Bay of Biscay via Le Mans, Poitiers, arriving in Bordeaux in early afternoon where he ate lunch at a small sidewalk café and toured a winery east of town. With France on high alert from the bombings, he played the part of the upset Spaniard lamenting the destruction of two of France’s icons.
From Bordeaux, Khan drove to Bayonne, France where he left the stolen Audi and retrieved a brand new red flame Volvo C70 convertible with a Spanish registration. His playboy image almost intact, Khan drove the coastline to San Sebastian with the top down enjoying the cooler October weather.
Khan checked into the Hotel Niza as planned, his suite overlooking Isla de Santa Clara. Dozens of boats were moored into the shallow green waters just beyond the beach in Concha Bay. Beyond Isla de Santa Clara stretched the endless blue waters of the southern end of the Bay of Biscay, or Cantabrian Sea as the locals called it. It was almost dark and from his balcony he gazed at the sky. To the west he could see remnants of the wispy, orange clouds that autumn brought.
News reports indicated the death toll at the base of Eiffel Tower was thirty-two with another forty-six injured. He’d expected a higher number. His disappointment was offset by his success at the Louvre. One hundred twenty two dead, one hundred forty eight injured. Another powerful blow dealt against the free world.
Khan was still troubled nonetheless; only one bomb had detonated at the Louvre. The news reports indicated that a second suicide bomber was shot and killed, preventing his vest from exploding. Khan regretted not listening to his better judgment and using a remote detonator.
Yet, he was still pleased with the result. He knew his next attack would stab at the heart of America. A week from today he would travel from Spain to the United States, where he’d launch an attack so brazen, so heinous and despicable, that the country would forget the attacks of 9/11, they would pale in comparison to Khan’s devastation.
The infidel would realize there was no safe place to hide.
CHAPTER 48
Brugmann University Hospital
Brussels, Belgium
10:00 P.M.
J
AKE RAPPED LIGHTLY on the hospital room door as he pushed it open. Wiley was sitting in a chair next to Kyli’s bed, Kates in the bed next to Kyli’s, both lying prone, Kyli's head immobilized.
“Well?” Jake said. “How are they doing?”
Jake, Kaplan, Kyli, and Kates had been triaged at a Paris hospital. Jake and Kaplan were treated for minor wounds to remove glass fragments and then released. Kyli and Kates’ injuries were more serious. Kates was treated and remained overnight for observation. Kyli had to undergo surgery to remove the large glass shard lodged in the back of her neck. As soon as Kyli recovered from surgery, Wiley was permitted to provide medical transport for the two women to a hospital in Brussels. After arriving in Brussels, Wiley had a team of physicians standing by to receive and treat the two women.
Wiley stared at Jake. “You looked like someone peppered you with rock salt.”
“I’ve never been shot with rock salt, but if it stings all over, then you’re right.” Jake said.
“Consider yourself lucky.” Kates leaned over from her bed. “They removed a chunk from my ass and it hurts like hell.” She extended her hand to Jake. “We haven’t been formally introduced but I’m Kates.”
“I know. I loaded you into the ambulance.”
“That was you?” Kates asked. “That whole thing is a blur. It doesn’t seem real except for the pain.”
“How’s Kyli?” Jake asked. “Has she come around?”
“She’ll be fine, Jake.” Wiley patted the chair next to him. Jake sat down. “The doctors said she should wake up soon. She’s drifted in and out for the last hour. How’s Mr. Kaplan?”
“He’s doing fine.” Jake got up and inspected the bandage on Kyli’s neck. “Bentley’s down there with him now. I think they’re going back to Langley tonight. He got peppered with glass like I did, nothing major except the gash on his forehead. It’ll end his modeling career.”
Wiley chuckled. “The ladies might find that scar interesting.”
“Grandpa, what happened?” Kyli shifted on the bed. “I can’t turn my head. Why am I looking at the floor?”
“I’m right here, Kyli.” Wiley said. “They have your head and neck immobilized. A piece of glass penetrated your neck and the doctors don’t want you moving your head and pulling the wound open. You’ll have to lay face down all night.”
“What about Kates? Is she okay?”
“I’m fine.” Kates said. “But Paris turned out to be a pain in the ass, literally. I had a piece of glass lodged in my ass.”
“You got a piece of glass stuck in your ass? That’s too funny.” Kyli laughed. “Strangest thing. Right after the explosion I saw a man with a gun. He aimed it toward the blast and fired. I know it sounds crazy but I thought it was Jake.”
“Your mind does crazy things to you when you’re under stress.” Wiley said. “There’s a good reason for what you thought you saw.”
“I know, I know. But it seemed so real.”
“It was real.” Wiley said.
“I don’t understand.”
Jake interrupted. “I shot the second terrorist before he could detonate his vest.”
“Jake. Is that you?”
“In the flesh.”
“Come down here so I can see you.” Kyli said.
“You want me to get on the floor? Are you kidding me?” Jake asked.
“No, I’m not.” Kyli said. “Please.”
Jake sat down on the floor near the head of Kyli’s bed and slid sideways until he could see Kyli’s face. “Hi there.”
“Jake, you look like Al Pacino from
Scarface
.” Kyli said. “What happened?”
“The same thing that happened to your neck and your friend’s ass. Jake said. “You two were lucky today. Maybe next time you can remember to take your phone with you.”
There was a knock on the door. “Can we come in?” Bentley pushed the door open. Kaplan followed him into the room.
Bentley looked around the room. “I thought Jake was coming up here. I need to talk to him.”
“Right here, sir” Jake said.
“What are you doing on the floor?” Bentley asked.
“Talking to Kyli.”
“I need to talk to you, Jake.” Bentley paused. “Privately.”
Jake got off the floor. “I’ll be right back.” He said to Kyli. He walked toward Bentley. Bentley held the door open while Jake walked into the corridor.
“What is it, sir?”
Bentley motioned for them to walk. “You did a great job in Paris today and I’m proud of you and I know you’ll continue to impress Mr. Wiley.” Jake started to speak but Bentley continued. “I have some news for you, Jake and there’s no easy way to say it.”
Jake gave him a curious look.
“Jake. There’s been an accident. It’s your parents.”
CHAPTER 49
Four Days Later
Oak Hill Cemetery
Newnan, Georgia
F
OR THE SECOND time in six months, he was here again. This time he was adding two more graves, those of his parents. Six months ago, it was his fiancée, Beth. Much like then, it was a cool, dreary morning. The wet, recently mowed grass left a pungent smell in the air.
Beth was gone and now his parents. He began to understand the words Wiley said to him the day they met in El Paso.
“You’re not special, Jake. We’re all touched by sadness in life.”
And, for the first time, he felt alone. He was an only child. His parents were only children. There were no aunts, no uncles, no cousins. And all the grandparents had been dead for years. With his parents gone, he was the last Pendleton.
When he’d talked to the fire marshal, no cause had been determined. The marshal suspected a gas leak in the kitchen but the damage had been so devastating that the cause of the fire might never be determined. According to the marshal, the heat produced from the inferno caused the exterior gas tank to explode, further compounding the fire departments efforts to contain the fire.
Jake scanned those in attendance noting his father had made some powerful friends during his days in the military and as a political appointee. Attending was CIA Director Scott Bentley, Former President Jimmy Carter, three United States Representatives, the Governor of Georgia, and two United States Senators. One of whom was the man who wanted Bentley to deliver his head on a platter, the Honorable Richard Boden, accompanied by his contingent of Secret Service protectors, and as usual, noticeably chewing gum.
Boden was a tall, thin man with thick gray hair. He used a cane and walked with a limp from a gunshot injury he’d sustained in the Vietnam War, a war that had earned him two Purple Hearts and the Congressional Medal of Honor. He’d taken three bullets in his right leg, two of them shattering his knee and destroying the joint. Even with the miracles of modern technology and an artificial knee, Boden still required the use of the cane.