Liberty Read Free

free run of the country, to do whatever they had the money to do, and that is true. But that is not the critical factor. Bin Laden, al-Qaeda, the Islamic Jihad—all those religious fascists know that if they ever pull a stunt like that—” he gestured to the south “—in Russia, we will hunt them to the ends of the earth and execute them wherever we find them. We will exterminate the lot of them. To the very last man.”
    â€œThe same way the KGB murdered Hafizullah Amin in Kabul?” Jake asked. In 1979 KGB special forces disguised
in Afghan uniforms assaulted the presidential palace and assassinated the president of Afghanistan, his family, and entourage. Moscow’s handpicked successor asked for Soviet help, which fortunately was immediately at hand since the Red Army had already invaded.
    â€œPrecisely. But you Americans don’t do things the Russian way.” Ilin got out his cigarette case and lit one.
    â€œThank God. You killed a million Afghanis and lost what, about thirty thousand of your own in Afghanistan?”
    â€œAs I recall, you killed four million Vietnamese and lost fifty-eight thousand Americans in your little brushfire war.”
    â€œI served that one up, I suppose.” Jake sighed. “Two men followed you to Rockefeller Center. Apparently Russians. Someone over there doesn’t trust you.”
    â€œ Touché ,” Janos Ilin said. His lips formed the trace of a smile. “Can you describe them?”
    Jake reached under his jacket and produced two photos. He handed them to Ilin, who glanced at each one, then passed them back. “I know them. Thanks for coming today.”
    â€œWhy me?” Jake Grafton asked as he pocketed the photos.
    Yesterday Ilin had telephoned Callie Grafton at the Graftons’ apartment in Roslyn, Virginia, and asked for Jake’s office telephone number. Since she knew Ilin—he had worked with her husband the previous year—she gave it to him. Then he telephoned the FBI/CIA Joint Antiterrorism Task Force at CIA headquarters in Langley and asked for Grafton by name. The call came from a pay telephone in New York City. When Grafton came on the line, Ilin asked to meet him in New York the following day. They had set up the meet. Grafton had arranged to have agents monitor Ilin’s progress around New York to ensure he wasn’t followed. If he had been, Grafton would not have been waiting on the pier.
    â€œI heard you were the senior military liaison officer to the FBI/CIA antiterrorism task force. I know you, so …”

    â€œI don’t think that’s classified information, but I don’t recall anyone doing a press release on my new assignment.”
    A trace of a smile crossed Ilin’s face. “The fact that I know is my credential. Let’s reserve that topic for a few minutes.”
    Jake took off his sunglasses, folded them carefully, and put them in a shirt pocket inside his jacket. His eyes, Ilin noticed, were gray and hard as he scrutinized the Russian’s face. “So what are you doing in New York? Servicing a mole?”
    â€œI came to see you.”
    â€œDid the Center send you?”
    â€œNo.”
    Ilin stepped to the railing facing south, which he leaned on. Jake Grafton joined him. A police helicopter buzzed down the river and jets could be heard going into Newark and Teterboro. Contrails could be seen in the blue sky overhead. Ilin watched them a moment as he finished his cigarette, then tossed the butt into the river.
    â€œIslamic terrorists can be placed in three general categories,” Ilin said conversationally. “The foot soldiers are recruited from refugee camps and poor villages throughout the Arab world. These young men are ignorant, usually illiterate, and know little or nothing of the Western world. They are the shock troops and suicide commandos who smite the Israelis and murder tourists in the Arab world. They speak only Arabic. They