Bad Faith

26

Karp was still thinking about Lafontaine’s smirk, and ego, when he hurried into the reception area of his office, where Darla Milquetost told him, “Your visitors are already here.” She pointed to the larger room where Nadya Malovo and company waited before adding, “That woman gives me the creeps.”

Karp laughed. “She has that effect on a lot of people.”

“Oh, by the way, I’m not exactly sure where this came from, it was on my desk after I let them into the meeting room and got them coffee,” Milquetost said, handing him an envelope, “but it’s addressed to you.”

Walking into the room, Karp quickly took in the scene. Seated at the conference table were Nadya Malovo, her attorney Bruce Knight, Espey Jaxon, and Mike Rolles. Marshal Jen Capers was standing behind her prisoner, talking quietly to Clay Fulton.

Malovo spoke first. “It is my good friend Butch Karp,” she said. “Apparently we will have yet another conversation that does not involve a witness stand.”

Karp, tight-lipped, ignored her as he made his way around the table and took a seat. He looked at Jaxon. “So I got your message; what’s up?”

Jaxon pointed. “Hello, Butch. I’ll defer here to Agent Rolles, who called me just before I called you this morning and asked for this meeting.”

Karp raised an eyebrow and looked at the other agent, who said, “As you know, Nadya has been hearing from her sources for months now about a possible terrorist attack aimed at the parade in the Village on Halloween night. She’s been in contact with these people in the past week and the threat has gained credibility.”

“It has gone from the planning to implementation stage,” Malovo said.

“We’ve been worried for some time about the possibility of this particular attack,” Rolles added. “Think about it. The parade draws two million spectators and fifty thousand participants, almost all of them wearing costumes, and all crammed into a one-mile stretch of Sixth Avenue. Although the NYPD tries to control entrance to the parade itself from the side streets, it’s nearly impossible, not to mention there are several subway stops in that immediate area.”

“It’s a security nightmare,” Jaxon said. “With everyone in costume, the police can’t check beneath each robe and look in every backpack or behind every mask.”

“Osama bin Laden could have come as himself,” Malovo interjected, “and everybody would have congratulated him on his costume.”

“So where do we go from here? Call off the parade?” Fulton asked.

The room went quiet until Rolles cleared his throat and spoke. “National security policy has been to keep these threats quiet,” he said. “While we believe that this particular threat is very credible, if we stopped events every time there was a credible threat-meaning we are aware that some lone wolf or group is planning something-there would be no football games or World Series or concerts.”

“There is something else,” Malovo interjected. “Along with a desire to strike a major blow against America, those behind this operation have one very specific target.”

“And that is?” Karp asked.

“You,” she replied with a smile. “Apparently, they have tired of your … interference with their plans and want to repay you for the downfall of my former colleagues Amir al-Sistani and the imam Jabbar. These are people who believe in revenge.”

“That does it; whatever happens with the parade, you’re out,” Fulton snarled, glaring at Malovo. “We’ll make up some excuse … work or illness or-”

Karp held up his hand. “Hold on, Clay,” he said. “I don’t see how I can live with saving myself while agreeing to allow this parade to go forward.”

“It might actually work against us,” Malovo said. “If they don’t see you, they will assume that their plan has been discovered. But they have a separate Plan B.”

“And what is that?” Fulton scowled.

Malovo shrugged. “I haven’t been able to find out yet. But if they stay with the original plan, we have a better chance of stopping them. I think they may even be growing suspicious of me … after the ferry attack was thwarted, they have been more circumspect, though they have still needed Ajmaani-me of course-to supply them with their materials and financing. They are expecting me to be at the parade, too.”

“You’re not going to any parade,” Capers argued.

Malovo looked at Rolles, who shook his head. “I’m afraid that she has to,” he said. “Not only would her absence warn them that something isn’t right, she can identify at least some of the participants.”

“If you know who these people are, why not just intercept them now?” Fulton said.

“It may have to do with their distrust of me,” Malovo explained, “or they’ve learned not to put all of their eggs in one basket-that is the saying, no? — but I have only been able to meet with the two main leaders. There has been no contact with their teams.”

“Then take down the leaders and the plan falls apart,” Fulton said.

“It is my understanding that if the two are captured or killed, the others will carry out Plan B,” she replied. “It may not be as dramatic as attacking the parade and trying to kill our friend Butch, but I am convinced it will be deadly and I have no idea how to stop it.”

“Nadya meets with these guys the night before Halloween. We’ll be tracking these two and we’ll try to intercept them before the parade if we can get them all together,” Rolles said. “But I think we need to be thinking in terms of making these guys think that their plan is working.”

Malovo turned from Rolles to Karp. “So, I guess you will be the bait to catch these fish. So what will your costume be, Butch? I am going as Little Red Riding Hood; perhaps you should be Big Bad Wolf, no?”

Karp mused. “The world is truly upside down.”

Laughing, Malovo left with Rolles and Capers. When they were gone, Fulton sat down at the table. “You know she’s egging you on to be at the parade,” he said. “And it’s not so she can help catch terrorists.”

“I know, Clay,” Karp replied. “But I don’t see any other choice.” He looked at his legal pad and saw the envelope that Milquetost had handed him stuffed in the pages. He opened it and read a note inside, then looked at his watch. “I have to be back to court in fifteen minutes. But I want to go get a newspaper.”

Fulton frowned. “I’ll go get it,” he said. “You got enough on your plate.”

Karp smiled. “Nah, I can use a breath of fresh air, too. Something about that woman; she’s truly the queen of darkness.”

Fulton laughed. “I know just what you mean.”