After the activity of the past six weeks, it seemed all the energy had gone out of the cabin. Kathy was in India, and Anita was in Dublin to meet with Bernadette O’Brien for an 8:30 breakfast in the Tea Room at The Clarence. Only the date had to be included in the email. The other arrangements were fixed.

Jack was scheduled to leave tomorrow for Amman, Jordan, to contact Hamid Hassan, the young Jordanian his father had put through school and then hired to help with overseas investigations in the Arab world. According to Peter Brandon’s contact instructions, Jack sent an email arranging to meet Hassan. The meeting place and the time of the meeting at the Café Boulevard in the Intercontinental Hotel was always the same. Only the date had to be included in the email. Jack put Shadow in the best boarding kennel he could find and left for Amman.

Kathy’s first encoded email from New Delhi reported she used the Southeast Development Inc. letterhead arranged by Lee Jensen and an attention-getting retainer to hire a consulting firm in New Delhi to provide advice on the feasibility of establishing a small import/export business in New Delhi. Kathy told the consulting firm she expected to review dossiers on several firms within a week. Of special interest were new firms established within the last five years. Using the same credentials and a cash retainer, she hired the All India Detective Company, owned and operated by Arjun Singh.

She liked Arjun Singh on sight and quickly came to terms with him. He had a straightforward approach with close ties to the Delhi police. Singh employed 15 people full-time and could quickly expand this force with others he could call in. His investigators were former police or intelligence service officers, most of whom were highly experienced in the art of surveillance. Arjun’s English was excellent, and he was familiar with civil as well as criminal law. Although he was a Sikh, he was clean-shaven except for a rakish moustache. Looking into his startling blue eyes, Kathy decided a formidable and intelligent man lived in there. She told him to stand by, she would have some tasks for his agency in the next few days.

Anita arrived in the Tea Room of The Clarence in Dublin for breakfast before Bernadette O’Brien and was surprised to see an elegant, beautiful woman enter the restaurant. The woman fit the description, but Anita had expected a rather dowdy scholarly type with a taciturn demeanor. Instead, she confronted a very attractive, vivacious woman who couldn’t have been any older than her mid or late 40s. Spotting Anita’s recognition signal of a red book on the table, she walked up to her table and said, “How is Peter?”

Waiting until she was seated, Anita said, “Peter is dead. He was killed by a team of terrorists.”

Bernadette covered her face for a moment and said, “I loved that man. He told me his work was too dangerous for him to share his life with me. I never quite believed him. Tell me how it happened.”

After Anita told her about the attack on the house and the battle Peter, Shadow and the Nguyens had put up, Bernadette told her she had had a long-term special relationship with Peter and was deeply saddened by his death. She asked more about his last days, and Anita told her Peter’s son Jack had taken over his father’s work, and he needed her to help track down the people who had killed his father. Anita said she knew she was imposing on her on such short notice but it was important, and Jack believed she could play a unique role.

Before breakfast was over Bernadette and Anita were getting along like they had known each other for years. Fortunately for them, she was planning a trip to South Asia in the next few weeks and agreed to leave as soon as she could to start her trip in New Delhi.

Anita loved Ireland and was sorry she had to leave so soon. Bernadette jokingly told her all of Ireland wasn’t like The Clarence. Some places were better.

She asked Bernadette to contact Kathy Grayson at the Oberoi in New Delhi, and she would give her additional instructions.

As Anita was getting ready to send her email report to Jack and Kathy, she received an incoming mail signal. The message, from Kathy in New Delhi, said Jack and Anita should leave immediately for New Delhi. Anita emailed Kathy she was on the way.

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In a housing section of New Delhi, close to the government and business center, Yuri’s longtime Iraqi contact was just beginning a critical meeting with Hakim Al-Lami, an active upper level al-Qaeda member. In India, Ali Kazar used the name of Abdul Ali Fahad. The al-Qaeda sub-chief had brazenly gotten out of a taxi right in front of C-432 Defense Colony, a two-story cement stucco bungalow, almost indistinguishable from dozens of others jammed in side by side. Nearly every pastel-colored bungalow had a small garden in front, many displaying overflowing bougainvillea vines with riotous colors, a gated driveway and a sleeping shelter on the roof for the hot, unrelenting late spring and early summer days in New Delhi before the summer monsoons.

Inside, the rooms were cool and dark with a mixture of eclectic furnishing. The bungalow was a combination of living quarters and business offices. An office for Fahad, one for his secretary, a small waiting room and the rest of the space in the two-level bungalow provided Fahad with ample living space. His Muslim cook-bearer lived with his wife and one child in two small rooms added onto the back of the bungalow. Fahad liked the added security of having the house constantly occupied by his office and house staffs. After all his years in the Iraqi intelligence service, he had developed a fine sense of personal security. He did not appreciate al-Qaeda members arriving at his office in a taxi in the middle of the day.

The Indian police and Indian Intelligence Bureau were far more effective than they were given credit for, but al-Qaeda paid the money and made the rules. Fahad was a fervent believer in the Golden Rule: “Whoever has the gold makes the rules.” So he would never criticize them. Accommodation was key to survival. Nevertheless, a Muslim immigrant living in the midst of Hindu New Delhi had to be constantly on guard, especially one who was taking money from al-Qaeda.

After bracing himself, Fahad kissed Hakim Al-Lami on both cheeks and led him into his office. Al-Lami was a small man, dark skinned, with a trimmed beard, he wore a western business suit, cut rather well. Fahad wasn’t sure of his nationality but suspected he was a Saudi. Al-Lami only spoke English in Fahad’s presence. The cook/bearer served hot strong tea and biscuits. On a signal from his employer, he immediately left the room.

After they had exchange pleasantries and sipped their tea, Al-Lami said, “We are disappointed. What started so well is now nothing. We have given you one million dollars to use for expenses and to pay your contact in the United States. We started with a series of successful assassinations of the Satan-loving Americans. The killing of the Jewish congressman and the Secretary of the Commerce was very pleasing and led us to put in more money. Your early success was followed much later by the killing of a few prominent citizens and a few local officials, but no bombings even after we had agreed to attacks against unprotected buildings. Now that stupid capitalist press can print nothing to undermine their government. We follow the American media closely and, beyond the killing of a few mayors, we see nothing we have paid for.”

Fahad started to speak but Al-Lami raised his hand and said, “No! No explanations or excuses. I am not now asking you for an accounting or explanation. We want you to come to the usual meeting site in Kathmandu three weeks from today. My superiors will also attend the meeting, and we have some interesting ideas for you to think about. This is not a warning but you must know the level of activity we have paid for over the last six months is disappointing. It must improve.”

Fahad said, “I will make the arrangements. I have received a request for you from my contact in America.” He handed Al-Lami an envelope and said, “Inside are names, photos and addresses of people my contact believes are dangers to him and al-Qaeda. He has already killed one but lost three loyal men in the attack.”

Al-Lami took the envelope without a word, waved aside Fahad’s offer to serve him dinner, and abruptly turned down the hospitality of his guest room. Fahad accepted this rebuff and, on hearing a car stop outside thought, this bastard must have told the taxi to return in 30 minutes. It has been exactly 30 minutes. He never intended to show me the courtesy of allowing me to be his host or share afternoon prayers. I’ll not be able to contact and meet Vladimir Petrov before the meeting, but I can signal him to come to a meeting the next month. At least Kathmandu is a much more pleasant place this time of year and far less strict about sexual enjoyment. Yes, I could use a vacation in the mountain kingdom and I need some more al-Qaeda money.

The next morning the United flight carrying Kathy arrived at Indira Gandhi International Airport. The usual wait for immigrations, customs and the collection of baggage, all delayed by the officiousness of the Indian Civil Service was not a whole lot worse than a foreigner experiences at JFK on a crowded day. Kathy had briefly visited New Delhi in the past on one of her many Asian trips for the CIA.

A seasoned traveler, she knew airports worldwide were the worst part of international travel. Two hours after landing, her taxi pulled up in front of the Oberoi International Hotel. Here, the drive to make money by catering to tourists overcame the natural ponderous nature of the Indian bureaucracy.

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Kathy and Anita were deep in conversation when Jack and Shadow walked up on the porch. Anita had returned from her family visit to Greensburg and vowed to wait another five years before she went back. Her conditioning was nearly back to normal.

Sitting on the top step with his back against the railing, Jack waited for a break in the discussion. Giving up on getting their attention, he clapped his hands and said, “Remember I told you I had an idea we can use in New Delhi to find our friend. I have an approach that is perfectly legal.”

Anita said, “We haven’t done anything legal since I joined up. Let’s hear it.”

Jack saw that he had caught their interest. “We set up a dummy company that is little more than a name on the door of some local attorney.

“I asked Lee to do that for us. The dummy company hires a detective agency in New Delhi that we can use to be part of our effort to acquire an export/import business opportunity in India. If we find a good opportunity, we will begin the acquisition process that always includes a due diligence phase where it is common practice to snoop into everything you can in advance of a business deal. This process will give us the opportunity to hire Indian lawyers, consultants and investigators. I’m thinking Kathy goes to New Delhi as soon as our research turns up something. How does that sound for starters?”

Kathy said, “It gives us good cover for our actions in New Delhi, but we’ll have to be careful that it doesn’t leave any incriminating trails back to us. We won’t be able to travel internationally using alias documentation. Passports and airport security capabilities have changed over the last couple of years. The area of digital processing has made alias international travel only for the real professionals backstopped by their governments. I think your approach is a good one and we should use it.”

Two days later Kathy and Jack completed their research. Kathy looked at her notes and said, “India is full of import/export firms, consultants, expeditors and lawyers that live off foreigners trying to cope with India’s layers of laws and procedures, and we only researched the city of New Delhi. This is not going to be an easy problem.”

Jack said, “I don’t know. We’ll start with New Delhi and go from there if we have to. We don’t know if Ali is really the name used by the importer/exporter in New Delhi. We were not able to find a firm under that name. We found one of Yuri’s passports under the name of Vladimir Petrov. He used this passport to travel to Paris in March of last year, the only recent European travel in any of Yuri’s passports. Maybe Yuri’s Ali is an Arab, most likely a Muslim, who traveled to Paris in March of ’09.”

Kathy said, “Okay, I also have some assumptions. No Arab would leave his country to live in Hindu India unless he had to or was ordered to by his government. I suspect our firm of interest has been established or bought in the last five years.

“I think we can also speculate our Ali is a Sunni Muslim. Yuri’s records show he had good contacts with Iraqis. It’s doubtful any of his Arab contacts in any country were Shia Muslims. Our Ali ‘exporter’ won’t speak Hindi very well. He will definitely have an accent. Most likely his English will be far better than his Hindi. He may or may not attend a local mosque. I think we’ll find he is between fifty and sixty-five. He probably held a reasonably high government post in his home country in the field of security or intelligence. I guess he smokes and drinks Western booze. Lastly, he’ll be mother tongue fluent in Egyptian, Iraqi, Syrian, Palestinian or Lebanese dialect.”

Jack added, “My search of the internet about detective agencies located in New Delhi turned up a detective agency called the All Indian Detective Agency owned by a former Indian police officer named Arjun Singh. I like what I read. So let’s start with Mr. Singh. We’ll also need a consulting firm based in New Delhi.”

Kathy said, “I’m ready to go. How about a place to stay?”

Jack said, “We’ll use the Oberoi in New Delhi. I’ve stayed there, and it’s first class all the way. This is an information-gathering operation only. We’ve come up with a good cover. Use it. I’ll make reservations for all of us under our cover company, and I think we have some foreign contacts and resources that can help us.”

Jack said, “I went over the list from my father’s files last night and identified a few who might be able to help us in India. The first is a young man who lives in Jordan. An Arab and a Sunni Muslim educated in the U.S., he earned a bachelor’s degree in business administration from the University of Florida three years ago. My father put him through school in return for his help at some point in the future. In the meantime, he has been drawing a generous annual stipend. It’ll go away if he can’t help us.

“The other person who might be able to help us is an Irish woman in her late forties who works in the field of antiquities, specializing in artifacts from South Asia. None of these people knows anything about our activities. They understand they are being paid to help with investigations into business matters. It seems to me, the Irish woman could visit a number of exporters in New Delhi, checking on the legal or quasi-legal availability of artifacts. She and the Jordanian can work with Kathy. I’m sure he could spot a fellow Arab and pinpoint where he came from.”

Kathy said, “I like it. I’m as certain as one can be I’m not known to Indian intelligence, so no difficulties there. I can be ready to go as soon as the visa is ready. I don’t think the Jordanian and the Irish lady should meet. Let’s make sure they’re not in the same hotel.”

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Two days after the package was mailed in Pittsburgh, LtCol. Terrell’s secretary Alicia burst into his office and said excitedly, “You won’t believe it! Those people have sent you another letter. This time with a package.”

With that she put it on his desk. Deputy Superintendent Terrell looked at the package with a look usually reserved for poisonous reptiles, and said, “Oh my God, not another one! I’m still trying to convince the FBI and even the superintendent that I’m not holding out! I have no secret, unreported sources. I don’t know anybody who could be doing this. What is in the package before I read this note? No, never mind. I’m not going to read it. Tell the superintendent I’m on my way with a priority item.”

When the superintendent and his shaken deputy came out of the conference room after scanning the DVD, they hurried down to the front entrance, jumped in their staff car, and told the driver to head for the FBI.

The superintendent dialed the FBI director’s number, and when his secretary answered, said, “Martha, we have another hot one. Clear us through and clear the director’s or the deputy’s calendars for the rest of the morning. We have incredibly detailed information on terrorist activities and identities from the same source. Yeah, Terrell’s secret contact.”

“Colonel, you gotta believe me. I do not, repeat do not, have any sources, let alone secret ones. If you don’t believe me, the Bureau will crucify me!”

“Bob, you are going to have to come up with a better story than ‘I don’t know anything about this.’ Asking me, never mind the Bureau, to believe there isn’t anything that could have led these people to pick you out of the thousands of other possibilities is just not credible. These people are more than a little scary. They know more than the FBI. How could that be?”

Bob Terrell just shook his head and mumbled, “How can I ask you to understand when I don’t? Can’t we just forget the package was mailed to me and concentrate on the substance?”

“That would make sense, but you know the FBI. They cannot stand loose ends and to them you are a giant loose end. Maybe we should let ’em believe we have a secret informant. They would believe that, but it would start a giant turf war and the terrorists would be forgotten in the process. No, the only course I have is to let you swing in the breeze. Good luck.” The Colonel was still chuckling when the car cleared the barrier and swept into the underground reception area.

The FBI director had cleared his calendar and after watching the contents of the DVD flow across the screen, he said, “I can’t believe this. It has to be about the best information we have ever received from an unknown source.” The last was said as he stared at Bob Terrell who kept his poker face on and looked out the window. The director shifted his glance to his deputy, Chuck Higgins, and said, “Chuck, what’s our first step?”

Addressing the director, Higgins said, “Call our New York office and get them to check the information about the killing in Central Park. At least we can check that. Next, get a crime scene team out to the address on MacArthur Boulevard where Armstead alias Yuri alias Petrov allegedly lived. We need to get a message to our Jacksonville office and get them cranked up on doing a really thorough investigation of the Yulee explosion. The Annapolis office needs to get out to Tilghman Island and reinvestigate the marina explosion. We need to get organized to check out the Charleston and San Francisco cells. If it all checks out, this information is a bonanza for us.”

Looking at Terrell, Higgins said, “Nice going, Terrell. Give your guy a bunch of kudos from us. Incidentally, Terrell, the Bureau will expect your full, and I mean full, cooperation with this investigation.”

The superintendent looked up sharply and said, “I’ll have none of that. If Bob knew anything more about this, he would tell us. And if the Bureau has that kind of an attitude, the next time we’ll take our information somewhere else. Is that understood?”

The director said, “Colonel, we understand and are very appreciative of your cooperation and team spirit, and I’m sure Mr. Higgins shares my viewpoint. Don’t you, Chuck?”

“Yes, sir. Bob, I apologize if I sounded like you were the problem. But these people, whoever they are, leave bodies everywhere they go. This case won’t be finished until we have put them where they belong.”

The director looked up sharply and said forcefully, “Chuck, I may be somewhat new on this job, but it seems to me that you had better get your priorities sorted out. What jury would convict anyone who has done what these people have done? Hundreds or even thousands of people could be dead without them. How many of these killings may have been self-defense? No way to know. So I’m telling you and you had better pass it down the line that, when the terrorist problem is over, then and only then, maybe I will have this Agency chasing after vigilantes or whatever they think they are.

“Right now I could pin a medal on them. That brings me to the media part of this problem. None of this – and I mean none of it – gets leaked to the media. When we make an arrest, we will brief the media, giving the credit to good police work and to the heroic men and women of the FBI. Do we all understand? Now, we have a helluva lot of work to do. Colonel, I have a request. Can you lend us your deputy for a while? I want him to act as the deputy on the task force we are setting up today.”

“Bob, is that all right with you?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

“Okay.” The superintendent said, turning toward the director, “Terrell is yours as long as you need him.”

“Thank you, Colonel. Deputy Terrell has my authorization to keep you fully informed through secure channels.”

“I appreciate it. If you have a few more minutes I would like to share some thoughts that have occurred to me.” At the director’s nod, the Superintendent of the Maryland State Police continued, “Whoever these people are, they are very professional. Consider the way they communicate with us. Mailing something to the State Police is very easy, no risk involved. Our system is not geared to handle incoming mail with forensics in mind. How many people handle the mail while it is in the system? Your lab people, who I know are very good, recovered no useful forensic evidence from the first letter to us. Whatever was used to format and print that letter, I bet is now destroyed. Also, look at the scope of their activities in a very compressed time frame.

“The outskirts of Washington, D.C., Tilghman Island on the eastern shore, Jacksonville, Florida and New York City – this is not one person or even a handful of people. They must have at least 10 people they can count on and big bucks to cover all the expenses. To my knowledge they have not left a single clue or bit of evidence behind. The only time weapons were used was on the hillside behind the restaurant near Great Falls Park. Bodies were left behind in Florida, Tilghman Island and New York, and no sign of the use of weapons. Five of the bodies were armed. The crushing of Olsen’s chest had to be done by a highly trained fighter with martial arts skills. So I think we are seeing the work of a disciplined organization, not a loose group of a few vigilantes. Maybe ex-Special Forces.”

The director peered over his glasses and said, “Colonel, I think you are right on. Chuck, use that analysis and profile until we get enough information to change directions. Oh, and for your information, Superintendent, it appears that we might have a DNA lead. A faint trace of blood was left on the ground near the body. The lab people say the trace of blood was not enough to convict anyone due to the condition of the crime scene after the rain and the trampling of the ground before it could be secured. If we get another sample from the same person we may be able make a match. And one last point, I consider these people to be on our team. We know and they know they have broken the law, actually lots of laws. My clear instructions are that, for now, I am declaring these people or organization off limits for law enforcement investigations until I say otherwise. I am invoking my National Security authority to protect this source of information. We will not jeopardize the best domestic terrorist source we have for short term desires to make a neat FBI prosecution case. Terrorism will not be defeated by the old ingrained practice of making individual cases, getting indictments, arresting individuals and trying to get convictions. Something more innovative is required, and we need good intelligence from wherever. That is all. Get to work.”

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The day after Kathy and Jack mailed the letter to the Maryland State Police, Jack told Kathy he needed to talk to Lee Jensen about the progress being made on all the legal aspects of his father’s estate and bring Frank up to date. Jack drove into Latrobe and used a pay phone in the bus station to call Frank at the Counter Terrorism Center. As Frank promised, the call was put right through. Frank answered and said, “Nick, I was getting worried about you. What do you have for me?”

“We just sent another package to the Maryland State Police as our channel to the FBI. They acted on our last message, so I thought since our credibility is now established, we could send them a much more complete data dump that contained copies of Yuri’s records, including a sterile copy of the DVD we found in his house. The DVD contains detailed information on all six of Yuri’s cells. We have destroyed the cells on Tilghman Island, Yulee, Florida and killed the leader of the New York City cell who was disguised as a woman. The cell in Charleston is also finished with only one marginal member left alive. We haven’t touched the San Francisco cell but have tracked the al-Qaeda link from Yuri to New Delhi. We will go there shortly to deal with them. That’s all I have for now.”

“Nick, my God! That’s more than this entire office has accomplished in the last six months. Be careful in India. If you get in real trouble with any of the authorities there, get them to call me. I’ll do what I can. I’ll also make sure the Bureau acts on your information. You are doing wonderful work. Please pass on the nation’s gratitude to the others and check in as soon as you get back. Take care.”

Again Jack heard the dial tone and grinned as he hung up. Yeah, we are doing okay. Now he had to call his attorney, Lee Jensen, to check on the status of his father’s estate. During the conversation with Lee, he learned the estate was fully settled, and he now owned all the money and property. He also asked Lee to set up a dummy corporation he could use as a front to probe for some investment opportunities in Asia. Jack told Lee he would be traveling and phone contact would be difficult, but he would check his email messages from time to time.

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After lunch the next day Jack said, “I want to talk about helping the cops out without exposing ourselves. It seems to me any message we send to LtCol. Terrell of the Maryland State Police will be given a lot of credibility and swift action. For example, we have Yuri’s records and computer, which we can dump on DVDs. We need to look very closely at any information we send to the police or FBI, but I think we could do it without exposing ourselves or providing anything they can work on to backtrack the information to us.”

Anita said, “Those guys scare me. I’ve a lot of respect for the FBI and their forensic labs.”

Kathy shook her head and said, “No one should be able to trace a sterile copy back to us. Credibility for the information on the DVDs will be automatically provided by the information we gave them last time. They used our report to roll up the members of the New York cell. A covering letter tying in the Tilghman Island, Florida, events, the killing of mayors in Virginia and San Francisco and the homicide in Central Park should provide even more authentication. Surely they will move against all the cells on the DVD.”

Jack said, “I like the idea, if we can prepare this package without compromising ourselves.”

Anita said, “I’m for it. Let’s give the Feebs some work. Those guys at the Bureau are getting my tax dollars for this stuff. I’ll be happy to sit on the sidelines for a while.”

Jack said, “Okay. Kathy, can you put a package together?”

She nodded.

Jack added, “No need to hurry. We don’t want to set a tight schedule that could lead to mistakes. Can you write the cover letter and get the package mailed in, say, five more days?”

Kathy said, “I see no problem. That’s enough time.”

Jack said, “I don’t think we should give the FBI information about foreign links just yet. But I want to start working on the foreign problem.”

Kathy said, “Sure, I remember reading on Yuri’s hidden file that an old contact with only Ali as a name operates out of New Delhi in the import/export business. I don’t remember seeing anything about al-Qaeda. Give me a few days to get the FBI package ready, and we can search his data again and surf the net about import/export business in India.”

Jack said, “Okay, I’ve an idea about how to approach the Indian connection. But right now I need a break and so does Shadow. I don’t think he liked staying in that kennel in Bedford.”

Jack asked Kathy if she wanted to get some mountain air. She picked up her sweater, motioned to Shadow to follow her, and they set off with Shadow in the lead. Game trails abounded on the mountainside. They found one to their liking and followed it down the valley. They found a rock ledge overlooking the small brook and sat down. Jack put his arm around Kathy.

She said, “It’s really been hard not to make a fool of myself wanting to hug you in the cabin. I just can’t seem to get enough of you. I’ll have nightmares about that crazy Olsen charging through the shrubs right at you. I thought I had lost you. I guess I learned when it comes to rough stuff, you can take pretty good care of yourself. But now break time is over. We have got to get moving on our package to the FBI.”

Back at the cabin, Anita complained about the lack of a decent gym within an hour’s drive. Since she wasn’t a computer geek and was only an hour from her old hometown, she was going to visit her family in Greensburg, PA, and get in shape there. She promised to be back in three or four days. Anyway, they didn’t need her help putting a package together for the FBI, but she did need someone to take her someplace where she could rent a car.

The next three days sped by. Jack and Kathy finished the package for LtCol. Terrell and mailed it from Pittsburgh.

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Later that night at the improvised bar, Kathy sidled up close to Jack’s good side and said, “Wounded or not, big guy, you’re okay. Now, sweet dreams. I’m going to bed – want to join me?”

The next morning at ten o’clock they watched the morning news while nursing their first coffees. CNN and FOX carried essentially the same story. According to them the police were investigating the death of a female impersonator in Central Park South. She or he had two sets of identification and a large sum of money. The cause of death is pending the coroner’s findings. The police spokesman said they were still investigating this bizarre event. As the news was ending, Anita grabbed Jack and told him to take off his shirt. It was time for another inspection and bandage change. She found no angry red swelling or fever, and the patient was taking his antibiotics and pain medication. She gave Jack three gold stars and sent him off to breakfast.

Over breakfast of eggs, bacon, grits and toast, Jack talked about yesterday’s action and said, “People, we were lucky. That’s okay, luck always plays a part. On the good side we carried out the mission. The New York City bombing cell is wiped out, and we all got back.”

Anita grinned at Kathy and said, “Only the boss was scratched. Fortunately, our boss is even better at hand-to-hand combat than I thought he was. Next time no weapon for him.”

“In a close fight I’m more confident with my Hapkido skills than with a weapon. Our planning was okay, but we made some mistakes. We knew he was skilled with a knife. Considering all the danger he was facing with the whole city police force looking for him, I never dreamed he would come to his meeting with Yuri relying on his knife. I was looking for the move to pull a gun. Instead he pulled his knife, using some kind of a quick release forearm sheath.

“We knew he was good at disguises and he had dressed as a female before. Yet I wasn’t looking for a woman and doubted Anita when she told me to watch the woman. She didn’t like her walk or handbag. Thank God for the eyes of a woman. Our other lady did not have a chance to spot this female impersonator. Okay, Anita. Tell us what made you suspicious?”

“Well, I was kinda looking for a woman. Then, too, there really wasn’t anyone else near enough, and I thought this guy with decades of experience living illegally in this country would be very, very disciplined. Therefore, he wasn’t going to be late. The woman wasn’t walking like a woman. Nothing was moving except her legs. No hips. No shoulders. She was damn near marching. She was trying to give a well-dressed matronly appearance but was wearing funky shoes and her handbag in no way complemented anything from shoes to hat. I thought no woman with money would dress like that.

“When Olsen dove into the bushes, I thought he was gone. The way he was moving, I figured only a straight-on shot would get him. And if he were wearing a vest, he would make his getaway. I had no shot. All in all, conducting the operation we did on the enemy’s turf, we did better than okay. We barely had time to do a walkthrough. When a guy’s going to set off a bomb anytime from yesterday to a couple of weeks later, and you don’t know when or where, there is not much choice. You have to go with what you have.”

Buy “Justice Beyond Law” on Amazon, as well as the rest of the Jack Brandon series and other books by Barry Kelly, a former CIA agent and adviser to President Reagan. 

True to her estimate, Kathy gave them a meeting place a half-block uptown from their location inside the park. Anita met her while Jack stayed out of sight in the park. Minutes later, after Jack worked the new sweater over his bandaged arm and draped the new raincoat over his shoulders, they were in the rental car headed back to the Cadillac SUV in the Best Western parking lot. Kathy dropped Jack and Anita in the parking lot next to their SUV and left to turn in the rental. Anita’s skill with a pressure bandage had kept any blood from getting on the rental’s upholstery. The bloodstained raincoat was rolled up and put in the back of the Cadillac.

When Kathy returned in a taxi, she got behind the wheel of the Cadillac with Jack and Anita in the backseat. After examining Jack’s wound, Anita opened her travelling first aid kit and said, “Jack you’re going to get about 15 grade ‘A’ field stitches by one of the best. It’ll hurt some, so I’ll deaden the area a bit before I clean it and sew it up. And Kathy, I need a smooth ride back here. How did this happen anyway?”

Jack said, “My knife-fighting instructors all told me taking on a skilled person with a knife was no problem, as long as I accepted I would get cut in the process. They were right.”

“But what happened to Olsen? I wish I could have had a clear shot at him.”

“I think my palm heel smash to his chest pushed his sternum into his heart. I hit him hard.”

“Good! A guy comes at you with a knife, you put him down as hard as you can. Served the bastard right! Fucking people think they can run around our country setting bombs off don’t deserve one damned bit of sympathy! Kathy, keep your eyes on the road. I’ll fix your guy up almost as good as new.”

Jack admired the deftness of Anita’s hands. She was stitching up his arm with precise even stitches while damning the world of terrorism with angry passion. With Kathy trying hard to stay within the speed limit, they headed for Route 95 and the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

By the time Kathy wheeled onto the turnpike, Jack was dozing. Anita leaned on the back of the front seat and said, “Can you believe Jack? He is one tough quiet guy. I never heard of anyone killing a skilled knife fighter with one blow to the chest!”

After midnight Kathy parked the SUV at the cabin. Seated in the cabin with a Jack Black on the rocks in his good hand, Jack was fighting the urge to take a pain killer. Anita leaned over and told him, “Don’t fight it. You’ll heal faster if your body doesn’t have to fight the pain. Take the pills.”

Kathy said, “Thank you. I’ve been telling him it’s okay to take pain pills since we got back here.”

Anita took Jack by his good arm and said, “First, we are going to have a look at his cut. Kathy, bring him to the kitchen. I think he’s going to need his bandage changed. It’s spotting through the gauze.”

After the old bandage was removed, Anita examined the wound and said, “Hmm, I hope you don’t mind scars because you are going to have a nice one. Once it changes from the angry red to a healed white color, it won’t be too noticeable. How about you, Kathy? Do you still want these damaged goods?”

Kathy gave Anita a funny look and asked, “Have I been that obvious?”

Anita laughed and said, “You both have. Both of you are being so damn careful to act like nothing is going on here. Hey, girl, do you think I was born yesterday?”

“I made Jack promise not to fuss over me when our jobs became difficult. Now, I think I’ll stop worrying about him. This guy is one fantastic fighter. He put Olsen down hard and quick. My mother told me to have nothing to do with men over 40 who were not limping or carrying scars. Jack has both, and he’s only 31. Once in a while he favors a bad football knee and now he has two scars, counting the bullet wound on his butt.

“Anita, I’ll never be able thank you enough for taking charge and fixing Jack up so well. So, yes, I’ll take this package of damaged goods and be thankful. Where did you learn those medical skills? I don’t think any emergency room would have done any better.”

“Hey, I’m better than any emergency room with a wound not calling for serious surgery. People die in emergency rooms. I’ve never lost a patient, although it’s been close a couple of times. In the Rangers and Special Forces one of my specialties was medical treatment of battlefield wounds when it was impossible or difficult to immediately medevac. Basically I had to learn how to stabilize wounded soldiers to buy time until they could be lifted to a field medical facility.”

Buy “Justice Beyond Law” on Amazon, as well as the rest of the Jack Brandon series and other books by Barry Kelly, a former CIA agent and adviser to President Reagan.