Solomon's Gold

CHAPTER 52

Dayoud sat in one of the many anonymous restaurants that peppered the city, drinking a cup of coffee and thinking about his next move. Hamid and Amin were dead. At least he hoped they were dead. There had been two gunshots. Or was it three? He wasn't sure. Either way, he was the last one left. The entire mission had turned out to be a disaster. But if he was able to complete his part and release the sarin, that would surely earn him the place he deserved in Paradise.

He looked at his watch. It wouldn't be long until dark. Night time was best for the attack. The warm weather would help, bringing more infidels out onto the streets. By eight or nine o'clock, Times Square would be crowded with thousands of people, all bathed in the glare of bright lights and blazing neon that lit the area at night.

There would be tourists from other parts of the country. There would be women selling themselves, con artists looking to fleece the unwary, people looking for sex or to get high, thousands of others with nothing better to do than stand around hoping for something interesting to happen.

Tonight their hopes would come true, though it might be more than they'd bargained for. He'd release the gas and detonate the bomb he'd constructed. Many would die in the explosion, many more as the sarin dispersed. It was a terrible death, but the Americans deserved it. How many people had died under their bombs? His brother had been killed in Syria. His other brother, killed by the Jews in Lebanon. His grandfather tortured by the Shah's secret police, a victim of the American-backed regime.

He'd considered releasing the gas in the subway system, where it would be more contained. But Times Square was a symbol known throughout the world, and it had the advantage of being highly visible. It would be difficult for the American authorities to cover up hundreds of dead bodies lying out in the open. Their media would make sure of that. With luck, it would be thousands. There would be panic, people trampled underfoot as the crowd tried to flee.

Chaos, in the heart of the Great Satan.

It would rival the attack on the Twin Towers as a blow against the infidel. Dayoud knew his name would be remembered, forever.

Allah would be pleased.

Dayoud finished his coffee, paid his bill, and left the restaurant. He began walking uptown. The carryall with the gas and bomb was stored in a locker at Grand Central Station. He had plenty of time to get the bag and make his way across town to the target. Still, he felt impatient. Perhaps he shouldn't wait until nighttime.

How had the Americans discovered the apartment? Now they would be looking for him. Dayoud couldn't think of anything he or the others had done to give themselves away. Well, there wasn't any point in brooding about it.

He took a blue pill from his pocket and swallowed it. The effect would last for many hours, more time than he needed. As he walked, Dayoud tried to think if there was anything in the apartment that might give the police a way to find him.

The map! The map was on the table!

Dayoud stopped dead in his tracks. Someone bumped into him.

"Hey, watch it buddy."

The man gave him a hard look and walked on.

Dayoud started walking again.

They have the map. They know the targets.

As he waited at a corner for the light to change, Dayoud considered his options. He could still go to Times Square. They probably didn't know what he looked like. But with Times Square identified as a target, surveillance would be heavy, security tightened. They'd be looking for anyone with a backpack or a bag or a satchel.

It was too much of a risk. Reluctantly, he crossed off Times Square in his mind.

He felt the first effects of the blue pill, an easing of tension in his body. He hadn't been aware of how tense he was until that moment. At the same time, with the release of tension came a flush of energy. He felt alive, strong. The map and the loss of his comrades was a setback, but he still had the gas and the bomb.

New York was a big city. There were many worthwhile targets.