Page 100 of Zero Hour

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. Pat wasn’t coming back any time soon. He and the other operators were in a race against time.

Could it be the festival?

She thought of Amir’s cold, glittering eyes.

A rock concert. A massive, young, Western crowd.

Yes.

That’s exactly where he’d strike.

Another Boston.

CHAPTER 38

Pat gunned the SUV down Connecticut Avenue, heading toward Anacostia. Ameera Mousa wasn’t a name he recognized, but if Jasmine had seen her at the Columbia Heights Metro station with Al-Jabiri, then she was connected somehow.

Blade rode shotgun, his fingers tapping impatiently on his thigh. Viper sat in the back, focused, checking his Glock’s magazine. Phoenix, Cole, and two other operatives followed in a second vehicle.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up in front of a dilapidated rowhouse.

“Nobody home,” Blade reported after hammering on the door.

Damn it.

Pat checked his phone. 4:57 PM. The Independence Summer Festival gates would open in less than an hour. If they were right, and the concert was the real target, then time was running out.

Should he call CTD Director Carmichael?

And say what?

That they suspected an attack at the festival, based on a vague memory Jasmine wasn’t even certain of?

No. They needed proof.

“Can we search the place?” he asked Anna over comms.

“I’ll need a warrant,” she said.

“Get it. Now.”

Ten minutes later, she was back. “Cleared. Limited to terrorism-related evidence. No fishing expeditions.”

“Copy that.”

Pat gave the go-ahead. They breached the front door in seconds, weapons raised.

Inside, the house was eerily still. Too clean. Not what he expected for a woman with four kids.

“Upstairs is clear,” Viper called from the second floor.

Pat swept the living room. Bills stacked neatly on the coffee table. Cabinets filled with books, magazines, and children’s storybooks.

Did they have the wrong person?

No. Al-Jabiri said it was too late. The attack was already set in motion.

Pat moved to the kitchen. The fridge was full of normal stuff. Juice, cheese, leftovers. The counter was spotless. He turned to leave, then stopped as something caught his eye.

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