The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3) by James Best (free ebook reader for ipad .TXT) 📗

reason. Now listen. I talked to Standish. The Egyptians have been surveilling Hope Ranch in the hope of catching sight of us. Just like they cruised our home and the station. The security company told them they had recently done work in that complex. Probably described it. When they read the news story this morning, they decided that before shifting their search to Westwood Village, they’d give Hope Ranch a last try. This time they didn’t cruise the neighborhood, they knocked on doors to identify the specific unit. Trish … they know where you are.”

“You can’t know this,” Baldwin said.

Before Evarts could answer, Wilson said, “It fits.”

“Maybe I made a biased judgment based on the color of their skin.”

“Trish, the Egyptians were observed surveilling Hope Ranch,” Evarts said firmly. “Don’t wish this away.”

“Shit,” Baldwin said. After a pause, she added, “Okay. What do we do?”

“Are you still in the bedroom?”

“Yes.”

“To our knowledge, there are only four of them. They’ll need explosives or more people to assault a fortified apartment. I suspect they left to get one or the other. Let the police verify that they’re gone before coming out of the bedroom. Stay inside the apartment and tell the officers I’ll be there in moments.”

He ended the call and speed dialed Standish. He had not encountered any Highway Patrol. Where the hell was a cop when you needed one?

Standish answered. “Yeah, chief?”

He gave her a quick rundown of the situation.

“Have you been in town the whole time,” Standish asked at the end.

“Arrived Friday. I was debating coming in tomorrow.”

“Might as well. The whole force knows you’re in town and in trouble.”

“Gathered that. Even if it had been kept quiet, it would be blown as soon as Trish opens the door to the officers.”

“Just a sec.” She was quiet for a few moments. When she came back on, she said, “Patrols report no individuals in the apartment complex fit the description. One set of officers will make a swing through the rest of Hope Ranch and the other is on its way to interview your wife.”

“Tell them ETA ten minutes.”

“Will do.”

They ended the call and Evarts pulled out of the emergency lane and merged with traffic. He took a deep breath and tried to put himself in the head of the terrorist. What did they know for certain? They knew someone had hardened an apartment during the right time frame. They now knew which apartment. Is there any way they could know for certain that it was their apartment? Crap. They could look up the property tax record to discover the owner’s name and then a quick Google search would reveal that she was a professor at UCSB. They could probably also find out that she was on a foreign exchange gig for a year. That kind of information was probably in the school paper and on the University’s webpage. That would be enough. They would know they had found their hiding place. Were they currently living there or in Westwood Village? Evarts felt a little more comfortable. There was no way for them to know for certain.

He called Standish again.

“Did you see the news article about us vacationing in Westwood Village?”

“No, but I just heard about it. Is that where you’ve been?”

“No, that was a ruse to draw them away from Santa Barbara. Listen, did the Egyptians ever talk about Westwood Village.”

“I’ll ask the wiretap team. Hold on.”

The phone went silent.

Evarts was entering the outskirts of Santa Barbara when she came back online.

“Bad news, I’m afraid. They talked daily with another search team. The other team once mentioned that they were going to the Bruin to see a movie.”

“Shit.”

The Bruin was a Westwood Village movie house.

“Chief, the same reason that made Westwood Village a good diversion also made it a logical search site.”

“Yeah, I was too clever by half.”

“They know you’re here,” Standish said.

Chapter 81

As Evarts drove, he continued to assess the situation from the terrorists’ perspective. The Ikhwan knew the apartment had been hardened, probably knew about converting the bedroom to a safe room. They had the lay of the land and would probably conclude that they needed explosives or more people. Probably both. The people would come from Westwood Village. Ninety miles, two hours or more in traffic. He looked at his watch and guessed they had three hours at most. How would they do it? The Ikhwan were not into subtle. He guessed a bomb. It had been the weapon of choice in D.C., and they had no reservations about collateral damage. They’d blow up a good section of the apartment complex. Never underestimate the attractiveness of a weapon that allows you to panic everyone in proximity to the carnage.

He needed to set a trap. Did they know he was on to them? They should have no reason to believe he was anticipating an attack. Damn, he was underestimating them again. He believed they would never find him in Hope Ranch. Even if they did, he never believed they would discover his exact whereabouts within the community. He had even believed that he could lure them to Westwood Village. Assume the worst. They know he knows, and they’ll anticipate a counter-strategy.

He pulled into Hope Ranch and cruised the entire community first. He spotted nothing untoward, so he pulled into the complex of apartment buildings. He parked next to a squad car with the door open and a cop sitting sideways, with his feet resting on the asphalt. If the Ikhwan had a way to surveil the building, the police presence would surely ruin any chance of surprise. His officer was talking on the radio. Oh, hell. It hit Evarts like a thunderbolt. They had the Egyptians under surveillance but hadn’t considered the reverse. The Egyptians could easily listen to them on a police scanner. He had to assume that the cat was out of the bag.

Evarts jumped out of the car just as his officer finished his transmission.

“Were you reporting on the interview?” Evarts