Part 8 (2/2)
The lanky blond man had just inserted cord into a brick of C-4. The tiny electronic detonator dangled from his utility belt. Now he reached for the b.u.t.ton.
”Prekid! Predaja zatim” Jack cried, ordering the man to surrender. Jack cried, ordering the man to surrender.
The man grasped the detonator, lifted it. Jack had no choice. The Glock bucked, its blast muted by the howling wind.
There was an explosion of red. The detonator, along with the hand clutching it, tumbled over the railing. The force of the concussion slammed the man against the rail, and he tumbled over it, too.
He screamed once, before bouncing off an ENG dish.
”d.a.m.n it!” Jack yelled, punching the rail.
Though he had stopped the bombers, he'd failed to take either man alive. Jack was back where he'd started...
6:54:30 P.M. CEST.
Ungar Financial, LLC Geneva, Switzerland Expressionless behind horn-rimmed gla.s.ses, billionaire currency speculator Soren Ungar held the phone to his ear, listening to the Albino's rasping voice speaking from thousands of miles away.
While Erno Tobias talked, Ungar stared at his own reflection on the gla.s.s surface of the desk. He'd worn a blank business mask for so many decades that his bland, angular face now seemed incapable of even a micro-expression.
Ungar believed that was for the best. One should always maintain control and hold one's thoughts and emotions tightly. It was vulgar, unseemly, bourgeoisie bourgeoisie to do otherwise. Even now, the anger that seethed inside him never reached Soren Ungar's cold, dead eyes. to do otherwise. Even now, the anger that seethed inside him never reached Soren Ungar's cold, dead eyes.
”This was an expensive mistake Ibrahim Noor made,” Ungar interrupted. ”Inviting that Congresswoman to his compound, today of all days, was a bit of insanity on his part.”
”Noor had his reasons,” Tobias replied. ”Williams and the others were to be his gift. A blood sacrifice to those who remain behind. Slaughtered lambs for them to vent their rage before the final conflagration.”
”Nevertheless, it was an error that cost me a million euros to remedy,” Ungar said without a trace of rancor.
”Noor and his savages can have the others to do with as they please. But I may need the Congresswoman's services in the future. It's never wise to squander an a.s.set that could still prove useful.”
Ungar paused. ”Fortunately, I will only have to deal with these savages a little while longer, until they have served their purpose. When the bloodbath begins, America's attention will be focused on stopping the threat, and I can act freely. After the final attack on their financial center and my speech tomorrow, before the International Board of Currency Traders, the final nails will be pounded into the coffin of American hegemony.”
”You will possess wealth beyond measure,” the Albino rasped.
”More importantly, with Europe in ascendance, a sorry century of dangerous technological inventions, vulgar consumerism, cra.s.s commercialism, and vile popular culture will finally end.”
”This plan is not without risks. And losses. I a.s.sume that you have accounted for them,” the Albino said evenly.
”The outcomes are worth the risks,” Ungar replied. ”A century ago, Europe ruled the world through its superior culture, its economic might, and its colonial ambitions. Then came the First World War, communism, fascism, n.a.z.ism, and another war that obliterated all traces of the glorious Europe that was. The Second World War allowed those barbarians to enter the gate. It gave the Americans free rein over the fate of the entire world.”
Ungar glanced up, at the painting of his great-grandfather, the man who'd catapulted his Swiss family to prominence in the banking industry.
”America's dominance ends now,” he went on. ”Though Europe can never beat the superpower militarily, there are other ways to bring defeat to your enemies.”
”Yes, well... I'm going back to the compound and meet with Noor for the last time,” the Albino said. ”Then I'm heading to my apartment in Manhattan, where I'll prepare for the final strike in the morning.”
”Very good,” Ungar replied.
There was a long pause. ”You're quite certain the other nations are ready to go along with this scheme?” the Albino asked at last.
”Europe is united and has once again become an economic powerhouse. It's only a matter of time before the euro outpaces the dollar in value. All I'm doing is expediting the inevitable,” Ungar replied. ”When I dump billions upon billions of dollars' worth of undervalued U.S. currency into the money markets, the Saudis and the Chinese will have no choice but to follow suit, and the sell-off will begin.”
”Then the euro will replace the dollar as the world standard,” the Albino concluded.
”And the United States will collapse into a mire of poverty from which it will never emerge. The balance of power will s.h.i.+ft in Europe's favor once again, as it was meant to be.”
The Albino chuckled. ”A brave new world.”
”Indeed,” Ungar replied. ”Who knows? In the twenty-first century, the poverty-stricken citizens of the new Third World America may welcome a modern wave of European colonialists. Then they can dine off the crumbs that fall from our tables.”
7.
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 1:00 P.M. AND 2:00 P.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME.
1:00:32 P.M. EDT.
Kurmastan, New Jersey The eighty-eight martyrs squatted in subdued silence inside the dining hall. Tables and chairs had been cleared away and replaced by prayer rugs, dutifully positioned so the supplicants would face Mecca. Old men and young boys served them strong, bitter tea sweetened with honey.
Fars.h.i.+d Amadani - the man they called ”the Hawk” - wisely abstained, though he waited with the rest for their spiritual leader to address them from the raised platform at the front of the room.
Earlier that morning, the martyrs had bid their final goodbyes to their families. They'd completed their ritual cleansing in the communal showers, and donned overalls and shoes that had never been worn. With skullcaps on their shorn heads, the men then proceeded to the mosque to pray.
Precisely at noon, Fars.h.i.+d Amadani had gone to the house of wors.h.i.+p to collect them. Single file, he had led the procession out of the mosque and into one of the underground tunnels. He had marched them through a long, low-ceilinged corridor to a s.p.a.cious chamber inside the main bunker.
There he had showed them what had been done to the infidel woman captured on their property the day before.
As their paramilitary trainer, the Hawk had been impressed by the martyrs' reactions.
He'd expected the older men - all felons convicted of violent crimes - to show no emotion when the miserable remains of the woman were displayed, and they did not disappoint him. But even the younger men, those who had not yet spilled blood, had hardened their hearts sufficiently to gaze at the grisly remains without flinching.
Truly these are the Warriors of G.o.d.
The Hawk noticed movement in the kitchen, and he knew Ibrahim Noor would soon appear. He settled onto his prayer rug and waited for their spiritual leader to arrive.
1:11:32 P.M. EDT.
Warriors of G.o.d Community Center From his vantage point behind a curtain that separated the dining hall from the kitchen, Ibrahim Noor watched his martyrs.
A powerfully built African American in his forties, Noor wore a skullcap over his shaven head. The prayer shawl on his broad shoulders did not cover the jailhouse tattoos that crisscrossed his bull neck, and his holy man's robes - a loose-fitting shalwat kameez shalwat kameez- barely concealed the scars from multiple knife wounds and gunshots that puckered the flesh on his thick-muscled torso.
Noor waited for the powerful beverage to take effect before he deigned to make an appearance. Meanwhile the men nervously gulped cup after cup of the bitter brew, a concoction of tea laced with amphetamines and mingled with the same powerful steroids that had been pumped into his disciples since paramilitary exercises began many months ago.
The amphetamines were a stimulant created for, and then rejected by the NATO forces because they caused psychotic episodes. It had been supplied by Erno Tobias and his employer, the Swiss-based firm Rogan Pharmaceuticals. The food and water stored inside the trucks were laced with the same chemical. The dangerous potion would send his Warriors of G.o.d to the very edge of reason, where the urge to kill would be strong.
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