Read Online Threatcon Delta by Andrew Britton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Andrew Britton
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Thrillers, Espionage, Military, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Political, Thrillers & Suspense, Spies & Politics
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said.
“You’ve got a couple weeks yet—”
“Jon, it’s Christmas in Texas, too.”
There was silence on Harper’s end. Then Kealey heard him wrench a door open and start running.
CHAPTER FIVE
SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS
S an Antonio is one of the oldest settlements in the Southwest. The Payaya Indians, who lived along the San Antonio River, were among the first indigenous peoples encountered by Spanish settlers in the region. The colonists constructed forts, trading posts, and Catholic missions in the eighteenth century—including the famed Mission San Antonio de Valero. Today, this building is better known as the Alamo, the Spanish word for the cottonwood trees that grew there. American settlers wrested San Antonio from Mexico in 1835, and the following year the Republic of Texas was founded. The Mexicans retook San Antonio twice in 1842 but each conquest was short-lived. Texas was granted statehood in 1845.
Clean, sunny, and a mecca for tourists, San Antonio is the jewel of Texas, even though the inhabitants of Dallas, Houston, and other great Texas cities demur. The disagreement is polite, however, since it is still a treasure of the Lone Star State.
Dr. Hanif al-Shenawi did not know or care about any of this. He had never been to Texas and had no interest in it; he was here in the mosque on San Pedro Avenue for one reason, and it was not to pray.
The short, balding fifty-six-year-old sat in a room that had been constructed beneath the mihrab, the semicircular niche in the wall that faces the direction of the Sacred House in Mecca, the direction in which all worshipers should face. The room was used to store prayer books and had been constructed after the mosque was completed. The imam and his followers never anticipated committing or abetting acts of sedition against the United States. But to many of them it was, after all, only a host nation and not a home. Mecca was their home, and the mosque was its representative on any shore.
This was a new experience for al-Shenawi, who had never been compelled to go into hiding anywhere. Not in Yemen, where he was sought by undercover Israeli operatives for organizing local radicals into hit squads; not in Egypt, where he had recruited military marksmen for assignments overseas, right from under the noses of their secular commanders. In those and many, many other instances the physician had been able to make getaways in ambulances, by using disguises, or by slipping into an embassy. He not only held a passport for his native country but also forged documents for Chechnya, Turkey, and Spain.
The doctor lay on the cot that had been brought downstairs for his comfort. Food and drink had been provided and sat on a tray table beside him. The imam had been cordial if not friendly; so many clergymen did not like being drawn into political matters. But it was a political world and theirs was a politicized faith. There was no escaping the demands of the modern world.
The irony was that al-Shenawi was not here for his own safety. He was in the mosque simply to be here, in this city, at this time. His job was to remain hidden until the action was concluded.
Lying here with books and dissertations he had brought with him for entertainment, al-Shenawi felt like he did when he was a student at the School of Medicine of the University of Tehran before it became the Tehran University of Medical Sciences and Health Services. Once again he was in a small, mostly airless room, sitting on an uncomfortable bed, reading medical texts and drinking water, eating bread and fruit—which was all he could afford at the time. Now, it was actually a pleasant experience because he knew it was only temporary. Al-Shenawi did not sit here and think, I am an honored physician to the leaders of a nation, I should receive first-class accommodations. Instead, he was reminded of how far he had come, the son of a bus driver who had surpassed his modest ambition to become a doctor and practice in his home
“You’ve got a couple weeks yet—”
“Jon, it’s Christmas in Texas, too.”
There was silence on Harper’s end. Then Kealey heard him wrench a door open and start running.
CHAPTER FIVE
SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS
S an Antonio is one of the oldest settlements in the Southwest. The Payaya Indians, who lived along the San Antonio River, were among the first indigenous peoples encountered by Spanish settlers in the region. The colonists constructed forts, trading posts, and Catholic missions in the eighteenth century—including the famed Mission San Antonio de Valero. Today, this building is better known as the Alamo, the Spanish word for the cottonwood trees that grew there. American settlers wrested San Antonio from Mexico in 1835, and the following year the Republic of Texas was founded. The Mexicans retook San Antonio twice in 1842 but each conquest was short-lived. Texas was granted statehood in 1845.
Clean, sunny, and a mecca for tourists, San Antonio is the jewel of Texas, even though the inhabitants of Dallas, Houston, and other great Texas cities demur. The disagreement is polite, however, since it is still a treasure of the Lone Star State.
Dr. Hanif al-Shenawi did not know or care about any of this. He had never been to Texas and had no interest in it; he was here in the mosque on San Pedro Avenue for one reason, and it was not to pray.
The short, balding fifty-six-year-old sat in a room that had been constructed beneath the mihrab, the semicircular niche in the wall that faces the direction of the Sacred House in Mecca, the direction in which all worshipers should face. The room was used to store prayer books and had been constructed after the mosque was completed. The imam and his followers never anticipated committing or abetting acts of sedition against the United States. But to many of them it was, after all, only a host nation and not a home. Mecca was their home, and the mosque was its representative on any shore.
This was a new experience for al-Shenawi, who had never been compelled to go into hiding anywhere. Not in Yemen, where he was sought by undercover Israeli operatives for organizing local radicals into hit squads; not in Egypt, where he had recruited military marksmen for assignments overseas, right from under the noses of their secular commanders. In those and many, many other instances the physician had been able to make getaways in ambulances, by using disguises, or by slipping into an embassy. He not only held a passport for his native country but also forged documents for Chechnya, Turkey, and Spain.
The doctor lay on the cot that had been brought downstairs for his comfort. Food and drink had been provided and sat on a tray table beside him. The imam had been cordial if not friendly; so many clergymen did not like being drawn into political matters. But it was a political world and theirs was a politicized faith. There was no escaping the demands of the modern world.
The irony was that al-Shenawi was not here for his own safety. He was in the mosque simply to be here, in this city, at this time. His job was to remain hidden until the action was concluded.
Lying here with books and dissertations he had brought with him for entertainment, al-Shenawi felt like he did when he was a student at the School of Medicine of the University of Tehran before it became the Tehran University of Medical Sciences and Health Services. Once again he was in a small, mostly airless room, sitting on an uncomfortable bed, reading medical texts and drinking water, eating bread and fruit—which was all he could afford at the time. Now, it was actually a pleasant experience because he knew it was only temporary. Al-Shenawi did not sit here and think, I am an honored physician to the leaders of a nation, I should receive first-class accommodations. Instead, he was reminded of how far he had come, the son of a bus driver who had surpassed his modest ambition to become a doctor and practice in his home
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