The Lion's Game Page 9

  Investigator Miller, like most cops, was not overly impressed. The word "assassin" didn't appear in his mental dictionary. The suspect was simply a killer. Works for him, and works for me.

  Investigator Miller got down to specifics and informed me, "Investigator Harris tells me that you've spoken to him and that he's also spoken to your office, and he's given me some details about what happened." He assured me, "We've stationed uniformed and plainclothes troopers in the lobby and on this floor. One outside the OR. We've also received from your office two e-mailed photos of the alleged perpetrator, which we are electronically circulating to all state highway patrol vehicles and local police in this county and surrounding counties."

  "Good."

  "Your office also e-mailed a wanted poster, and I see there is a Justice Department reward for this individual of one million dollars."

  "That's correct."

  "He is a fugitive from Federal justice and wanted for the murder of Federal law enforcement agents." He said, "I assume that would be his armed escorts on that flight."

  "That's right." Plus three more on the ground.

  "But there were no specific details of his... escape and what he did subsequent to those murders." He looked at me for more information.

  I replied, "Well, I hate to use the words 'national security,' but that's the bottom line on that." I further informed him, "With that in mind, I and my office would very much like your troopers here to keep the news media out of this hospital, and I'd like you to inform your headquarters and this hospital that there are to be no medical reports issued--no names, and no details of the attack. No nothing."

  "Your office has made that clear." Investigator Miller was probably wondering how this had landed in his lap on a quiet Sunday afternoon up in God's country.

  He didn't pursue the national security issue, and asked me, "Are you positive that this individual you saw during your skydive is the same individual on the wanted poster? Asad Khalil?"

  "I am." He would have taken me at my word, but I added, "I--and my wife--worked the case that involved the murders referred to on the wanted poster."

  He thought about that, then said, "So... this guy attacked your wife because... she worked that case?"

  "Apparently."

  He asked, "Did you or your wife ever have personal contact with him? Interrogate him? Piss him off?"

  Well, Kate and I had a few cell phone conversations with him, and I'd definitely pissed him off. But if I'd had personal contact with him, there would have been no interrogation, and one of us would now be dead. I replied, "I can't give you any details, but I will tell you that this is his second attempt on our lives."

  His eyebrows rose and he made a note of that, then asked, "And the first attempt was three years ago?"

  "Correct."

  "So you and your wife were working together on that case?"

  Investigator Miller had to ask the standard questions, but they weren't relevant to this investigation, or to apprehending the assailant, and as I was trying to tell him, this was classified information. But I did respond and said, "Yes, we were working together." To change the subject and to interject a personal touch into our interview, I said, "She actually wasn't my wife then." I explained, "We met on that case."

  And now, he was thinking, she may have been murdered on this case, by the same guy.

  I said to him, and to myself, "She'll be okay."

  He looked at me, wondering, I'm sure, why I thought that. This wasn't what the nurses had told him, and he'd already figured this was probably a homicide. I've been in his position too many times, not knowing if the victim is going to make it--so you don't know what verb tense to use.

  Investigator Miller asked me, "Do you think this guy had any accomplices?"

  "He's a loner." I added, "Last time he was in the U.S., he had a few unwitting and unwilling accomplices, but he killed them. So you may get a body or two turning up in the area."

  He made a note of that, took a sip of coffee, then asked a few more standard questions, which I answered.

  I wanted to be cooperative in helping the State Police apprehend Asad Khalil, but they weren't going to do that using standard detective work. If they did catch him, it would be the result of a lucky car stop by State Troopers, or because some local citizen had reported a strange-looking guy in the 7-Eleven asking for a camel burger.

  Also, there was a possibility that Khalil was actually in this hospital right now.

  I said to him, "We're dealing with a professional, highly trained killer who doesn't make the usual mistakes that we count on when we're looking for the stupid killers. Asad Khalil has no fear the way we understand fear, but neither is he suicidal. He is very goal-oriented, and his goal today was to kill my wife and let me live to see it. He failed in that goal... which he may or may not know. So I'm requesting that you maintain around-the-clock police protection in the hospital and outside her room until I can get my wife moved back to the city."

  He nodded and said, "Done," then asked me, "Do you want protection as well?"

  "I can protect myself."

  I'm sure he thought, Famous last words, but again, he was polite and professionally courteous, and he said, "All right." He asked me, "You carrying?"

  "I am."

  "Good." He then asked, "Where is your wife's weapon?"

  I replied, "It was not in her jumpsuit." I added, "The perpetrator may have it, or it may have fallen out over the drop zone. It's a .40 caliber Glock 22, FBI issue."

  Investigator Miller made a note of that and said, "We'll get a citizens' search team out to the drop zone."

  I suggested, "The paramedics can pinpoint the exact area where we landed." I added for his incident report, "The crime took place about eight thousand feet above there."

  He nodded to himself and said, "Incredible."

  "Indeed." I advised him, "This skydiving club had a video camera on the ground so maybe this incident was captured on film."

  He noted that and inquired about the skydiving club.

  I replied, "It's a loose organization, and I'm sure that Asad Khalil is not a regular dues-paying member." I suggested, "Get hold of a guy named Craig Hauser. He can fill you in." I wondered if the club made their next two jumps. I said to Investigator Miller, "They may still be at the airport." I also informed him, "The skydiving club are all staying at the High Top Motel in Monticello."

  He asked me, "Where are your wife's creds?"

  "I have them." I let him know, "Her Nextel phone seems to be missing."

  He thought about that and said, "If the perpetrator has her phone, he has her entire phone directory. Unless you need a code to access it."

  Incredibly, you didn't need an access code to see the phone directory. You could also access text messages without a code. Only voice mail was secured by a code, so if an agent's cell phone got into the wrong hands--as it possibly had--the unauthorized person, Asad Khalil in this case, had the agent's phone directory and could also access every text message received as well as send a few of his own. Also, the walkie-talkie directory was stored in the phone. I said to Investigator Miller, "There is no code for the phone directory, or the push-to-talk directory, or for text messages."

  He raised his eyebrows, but said only, "We'll have the search team look for the cell phone, too."

  "Good."

  Assuming Khalil did have Kate's cell phone, and based on my last experience with him, I would not be at all surprised if Asad Khalil called me to offer his condolences on Kate's death.

  I suggested, "You should also send a trooper to our motel to check out our room and see if my wife's phone is there. Also, see if anyone has inquired about us."

  He didn't seem too annoyed that I was telling him how to do his job and replied, "Will do."

  "And could you do me a favor? I don't think I'll be returning to the motel, so could you have someone check Mr. and Mrs. Corey out of the motel and retrieve our personal things?"

  He nodded, and saved me fro
m telling him the next part of his job by saying, "We'll place a surveillance team there to see if anyone comes looking for you."

  "Good thinking." I said to him, "Another favor. My car is parked at the airport--"

  "We'll get it for you."

  "Thanks." I suggested, "Look in the car for her phone." I gave him my keys and registration and asked him to have the vehicle, a Jeep Cherokee, delivered to the hospital with my and Kate's luggage. There is, indeed, a strong bond between cops all over the world, and we will extend to each other every professional courtesy that is requested--even unreasonable requests--if possible. So I said to Investigator Miller, "If you do apprehend this individual, will you notify me immediately?"

  "Of course."

  "Will you give me ten minutes alone with him?"

  He forced a smile, hesitated, then replied, "If you tell me it's in the interest of national security, I will."

  "Thank you." I also suggested to him, "Check to see if my vehicle has a newly installed tracking device, and look through our personal things for anything that doesn't seem to belong there."

  He did not make a note of that, and he asked me, "Do you think this individual has that level of... sophistication?"

  "I do."

  He didn't want to ask why I thought that and hear the words "national security" again, so he said, "All right. We'll do that."

  Investigator Miller and I discussed a few more details of the incident and our immediate goals, which included protection, road stops, checkpoints, and circulating Khalil's photo. In truth, Asad Khalil was most probably long gone from Sullivan County and the surrounding counties--unless he was in the corridor now, wearing scrubs.

  We briefly discussed the usual procedures of sending troopers or investigators with photos of the suspect to motels, car rental agencies, restaurants, rest stops, train and bus stations, toll booths, and so forth to see if anyone could ID this guy.

  On the subject of fugitive travel, Khalil had also used private charter aircraft the last time he was here, so he may very well have flown into and out of Sullivan County Airport. I passed on this thought to Investigator Miller, and he said he'd send an investigator to the airport to see who had arrived and departed by chartered aircraft. The thing that had impressed me most about Khalil, aside from his intelligence and his resourcefulness, was the speed of his attacks and escape. Maybe more impressive was his sixth sense for danger.

  I could not give Investigator Miller any details of Asad Khalil's previous murders, which were partly classified, but I did fill him in on the suspect's M.O., including Khalil's ability to assume many identities to get close to his victims. I said, "This morning, for instance, he was a skydiver. Now he may be a hospital orderly." I continued, "His compatriots call him The Lion because of his fearlessness. But it goes beyond that--he has the instincts of a cat. A big, nasty cat."

  Senior Investigator Miller did not make a note of that either, and I didn't think he'd mention this at a briefing.

  I could have added that Khalil liked the taste of human blood. Literally. And this made me wonder if he'd... I put that out of my mind and said to Investigator Miller, "Consider the mind of someone who would go through all that trouble to cut someone's throat."

  Investigator Miller had apparently already considered that. "Yeah. It's like... these ritual killers."

  "Correct. The killing is secondary. The ritual is primary."

  He nodded and observed, "Which is why he didn't go for you this time." He had an interesting thought. "He'll come for you next--so you really don't have to look for him." He added, unnecessarily, "He'll find you."

  I nodded.

  "But you won't know where or when."

  "Anytime and any place is okay with me."

  He had no reply to that.

  I felt that I'd given Investigator Miller my full cooperation and had passed on some good information and suggestions. I needed to speak to other people, and he needed to get a lot of things rolling, so I stood and said, "I'll be here in the hospital until further notice." I gave him my card with my cell phone number, and he gave me his.

  He said to me, "I promise you we'll do everything we can to get this guy. Don't worry about anything except your wife." And not wanting any more victims on his turf, he added, "Watch yourself."

  We shook hands and I left.

  Well, I always knew this day would come, but I didn't think it would come at 14,000 feet above a cow pasture in upstate New York.

  Khalil always picked his time, his place, and his method of attack. But this time, I knew his mind a little better. Also, his element of surprise was gone, but for him that made the game just a bit more interesting.

  I recalled the last words that Asad Khalil had said to me on Kate's cell phone three years ago. I will kill you and kill that whore you are with if it takes me all of my life.

  If he hadn't hung up, I would have made a similar promise to him, but he knew that. Now, three years later, we both knew that one of us would be dead before too long.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  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 b
arbarian 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?"