Jihad Read Online Free PDF

the end of the vial with the pincers and removed the device, holding it gently in the tool’s claws. Roughly the size of two match-sticks, the bug was a small radio that could broadcast its signal roughly two miles, far enough to be picked up by a booster unit and transmitted back to NSA headquarters at Fort Meade, Maryland. Once inserted, it would turn al-Qaeda’s number three man into the most important—and unknowing—informer the West had ever had.
    Ramil made sure the bug was oriented properly before pushing it into the slot he’d cut behind Red Lion’s ear, making a small flap beneath the occipital belly of the occipitofrontalis muscle.
    What a work of wonder the human body was, he thought, folding the skin over; the intricate handiwork of God was displayed in the tiniest piece of us.
    “Mr. Dean,” he said, looking up. “It’s ready to be tested.”
     
    DEAN TOOK A small handheld computer from his pocket and placed his thumb over the reader at the base. When the screen snapped on, he held the unit up and softly spoke his name. Then he tapped the menu at the top and selected “Jaw-breaker” from the choices.
    The screen filled with colorful little balls. A casual observer familiar with handheld computers would think the program was the popular game that came standard with many of the machines. But it was really a “skin” for a program designed to test the transmitting strength of the device Ramil had just implanted.
    Dean tapped the ball at the lower left corner. The unit blinked; all of the balls on the screen flashed blue, then returned to a random arrangement of red, yellow, green and purple.
    “I’m ready,” he told Rockman.
    “Good, Charlie. The hallway’s clear. Turn on the booster unit so we can run the tests here as well.”
    “Yeah,” said Dean. He took what looked like a small camera from his pocket and pushed one of the control buttons, waiting for the light to flash. When it did, he slipped it back into his pants.
    Sweat poured from Ramil’s forehead.
    “I’m going down the hall,” Dean told him.
    “Go, Charlie,” said Lia. “It’s under control.”
    Dean walked toward the room where they’d gone for the scan; there was a restroom there where he could repeat the test without anyone watching. Dr. Özdilick came out of the cubicle just before the hallway, nearly bumping into him.
    “Your patient?”
    “Dr. Ramil says he’s fine,” said Dean.
    “Very good.” Dr. Özdilick started in that direction.
    “Doctor,” said Dean to stall him. “The restroom—is there a staff restroom nearby?”
    “Just around the corner.” Özdilick seemed puzzled, and Dean realized that he had inadvertently dropped his Spanish accent.
    “Is there a lounge nearby?” he said in quick Spanish before repeating it in slower—and lightly accented—English. “To get something to eat? I’m afraid I’m a little hungry.”
    Dr. Özdilick gave him directions to the staff cafeteria. He smiled, but Dean couldn’t tell whether he’d covered his mistake or not.
     
    “DR. ÖZDILICK IS COMING toward you, Lia,” Rockman warned.
    “Charlie’s talking to him at the end of the corridor.”
    “Someone’s coming,” Lia told Ramil. “You’ll have to suture the wounds.”
    “Lia, the test isn’t complete,” said Rockman.
    Lia ignored him. Clearly they weren’t going to have a chance to slip the backup transmitter in now anyway.
    Ramil blinked at her.
    “Do you need me to do it?” she asked.
    “No. But are the tests done?”
    “Forget the tests,” said Lia. She started toward the suture tray but Ramil waved her away.
    “A few steps away,” warned Rockman. “It’s Dr. Ozdilick.”
    “I got it,” Lia told Ramil. “Take care of Özdilick.”
    “I have to do this. He’s my patient.”
    “Just talk to Ozdilick.”
    “Thank you, nurse,” snapped Ramil dismissively.
    Lia just barely kept herself from smacking him. She stepped back just as Özdilick entered.
    “How’s the patient?”