Uncle Carl, last week, Matthew was going on about how we must change the course of history, that political discourse is now absurd because the Iranians are about to eliminate half the world with their nukes, ISIS is on the move, Al Qaeda, the Taliban, the worst of the worst, want to kill us all. He spoke of Israel, their people living in constant danger and conflict.
He said over and over that these people had been killing each other for centuries and they weren’t about to stop now, it was hardwired in their DNA. They still lived in the Middle Ages, not the modern world. Talk was worth nothing to them. The only thing they understood was violence, and force. And then he pounded the table and said again, “violence and force.” The way he said it, it scared me to my toes. And then he said, “I have to be the agent of change so we can save our culture, our people, our lives.”
Uncle Carl, Darius has changed him utterly. He’s different. I don’t know what he’s capable of anymore. Remember I told you before my first test with Matthew at Grangemouth in Scotland, he emphasized that no one could be hurt. No one. But now? I don’t know.
In a couple of days, we hit Bayway. I’ve got my bomb ready, but I have this feeling that Matthew has perfected his bomb and this is where he wants to test it, a bigger explosion, a bigger statement. Our contact is a night supervisor named Larry Reeves. Matthew paid him a ton of money to give us the plans. It’s how he’s always worked, as you know—pay off someone close to the site to get the blueprints, and find the best places to plant bombs for maximum damage. Sometimes he gets access online, sometimes they bring physical prints.
Nicholas raised a hand and Carl turned off the recorder.
“I can’t believe you didn’t warn us Bayway was coming.”
Grace said, “It wasn’t my decision. We stepped up their security. No one was supposed to get hurt.”
Mike wanted to stomp him, stomp all of those who’d made such a stupid decision. “Save us from our own law enforcement. Fifteen dead, Agent Grace, and even the one who sold out, Larry Reeves, is dead, killed in the very blast he helped facilitate. I know you heard three FBI agents were murdered as well, in an informant’s house. His name was Mr. Richard Hodges, a very nice man who overheard Reeves mouthing off in a bar about how much money he was coming into, and he called us, and died with the agents protecting him. His wife had died three years before of cancer. He ate bacon sandwiches for dinner. And the three FBI agents, all of them married with children. And now all those kids have no fathers. And you people let the whole thing happen. You stepped up security? And that’s all you’ve got to say about it?”
Carl Grace said, “There are no simple answers, Agent Caine, you know that. Compromises must be made, to gain the greater good, sacrifices must be made.” He saw she would explode and raised a hand. “I’m very sorry for that decision, the whole series of decisions, including leaving Vanessa in place.
“Now, I believe it was Zahir Damari who murdered the informant and the three FBI agents.”
Nicholas said, “It makes sense. He was tying up loose ends.”
Savich said, “We will sort out who’s to blame later. Please keep going, Agent Grace.”
Carl turned the recording back on.
Uncle Carl, it’s coming down to the wire. I believe Matthew when he laughs and says his bomb will be so much bigger, more powerful than anything I’d ever put together with my pathetic Semtex. When, not if, he perfects them, he could sell the formula, and any country could use it against us in unimaginable ways. I must get my hands on his notebooks, I must.