"You think those were private conversations between you and your 'beloved'?" Jack scoffed. "Those were the same lines 'Greenbird' used on Tara in the park today. He repeats the same words to every girl he manipulates."
Jack's tone turned sharp. "Maybe you don't care that he's stringing along other 'brides,' or maybe you think your connection with him is somehow special. But sorry to break it to you—the reality is that you're no different from any of those other foolish girls."
"Enough! You liar!" Nita Kayali's face twisted in anger. She bit her lip so hard that blood trickled down, but she didn't lash out again.
Jack's smug grin only seemed to infuriate her more. "What's the point of lying to you? What could you offer in exchange? We found the chat software on your computer, so you and 'Greenbird' only ever communicated online, right? You know nothing of his real identity—no address, no phone number. You don't even have leverage to negotiate with us."
Leaning in close, Jack wiped the blood from her lip with a mocking gentleness, then suddenly grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Do you know what's really interesting here? You're going to get exactly what you wanted—to take all the blame and be labeled a terrorist.
"Terrorists in this country don't get trials or appeals. You'll be shipped straight to Guantanamo Bay, where you'll stay locked up for life."
He withdrew his hand, lightly brushing her cheek. "What a shame, though. You're such a beautiful young woman, just in your prime."
Then, with a dark smile, Jack continued, "If I were you, I'd start thinking about how to stay 'chaste' for your 'beloved' in that prison. There aren't separate cells for men and women there, you know. A pretty girl like you? You'll be very popular. Good luck trying to uphold your purity—maybe it'll count spiritually, at least."
Jack strolled out of the interrogation room, chuckling to himself. Once he was in the adjacent observation room, he scrubbed his face with his hands, feeling like he'd gone a bit overboard with his performance, channeling every corrupt villain he'd seen in spy films.
Hannah, who had watched the entire twisted performance through the one-way glass, took an instinctive step back as he approached, her wary expression making Jack feel like he'd taken a blow to the chest.
"Impressive acting," Dana Moyer said with a slow clap, her eyes still on Nita Kayali, who had been reduced to tears by Jack's intimidation. "How long do you think it'll take before she talks?"
"Give her twenty minutes. If she doesn't crack, we can always put on another show," Jack said with a wry grin, rubbing his cheeks as if to shake off the role he'd just played.
---
"Click!" The door to the interrogation room suddenly swung open. Nita Kayali, who had been crying quietly, jerked up in alarm as Hannah entered, keys in hand, ready to unlock the cuffs bolting her to the table.
"What are you doing?" Nita asked, panic in her voice.
"Taking you to your new home," Hannah said flatly, her gaze as cold as if she were looking at a corpse.
"No, please don't! I don't want to go to Guantanamo. I'll tell you everything!" Nita clung desperately to the table, her terrified pleas filling the room. "There are three other girls. They already have the poison. I know what they look like—I know their names!"
---
"All brothers and sisters, join the 'Dark Jihad.' Together we will bask in glory, together we will find happiness…"
Everyone in the operations center watched the video on the main screen, their faces solemn.
"When did this video start circulating?" Dana Moyer asked, having been summoned by Jubal to the command center because of this sudden development.
"Just now," Jubal replied. "It looks like a response to Nita Kayali's arrest. The 'Dark Jihad' website went offline right after, and this video has started spreading rapidly across various networks."
Onscreen, the video continued, "You cannot stop what has begun. You will perish by your own children's hands."
The message was composed of fragmented clips from news broadcasts, each word pieced together from different sources, creating a chaotic yet chilling effect.
This was a clear declaration of intent: a warning that they intended to use manipulated minors to carry out poison attacks—a terror threat, and likely a preview of future attacks.
"It's getting serious. Should we issue a citywide warning through the NYPD?" Jack suggested.
Jack and Dana had both been called to the command center by Jubal, while Hannah remained in the interrogation room, verifying the list of girls Nita had mentioned. According to Nita, she'd recently met three other girls in Lighthouse Park. Though she didn't know when the attacks would happen, she could recall their appearances and names.
Hannah had extracted all the photos from Nita's computer and was cross-referencing them with the city's school databases. Results were expected soon.
Dana thought for a moment, then shook her head. "We can't have New Yorkers afraid to eat. That would just cause mass panic without really helping."
"Can anyone here speak Arabic?" asked the NSA liaison officer, a woman Jack had met once before. She entered the command center with a USB drive in hand.
"What's on that?" Jubal asked.
"We've located the creator of the 'Dark Jihad' website—a Libyan named Ali Kala. We tapped his phone and intercepted a call made to him from a Manhattan-based prepaid phone shortly after Nita Kayali's arrest. It's a recording," the NSA agent explained, handing the USB to Jubal.
"Play it," Jubal instructed, handing the drive to an analyst nearby.
Arabic filled the room as the recording played. An analyst immediately stepped forward to translate.
"The academy has been compromised."
"Shut down the academy. Send out the warning."
"Understood. Do you need me to set up a new one?"
"No, wait for my signal. I'll contact you after I reach the next city."
The exchange was brief but revealing. "Academy" likely referred to the "Dark Jihad" website, and the "warning" was clearly the video they'd just seen. The conversation also hinted that the individual intended to leave New York to start operations in another city.
"It's likely that the one giving the orders is 'Greenbird.' Run a voiceprint analysis. I want to know exactly who this is," Jubal ordered.
"Understood. Analysis is underway and should take about ten minutes," an analyst replied.
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Voiceprint analysis in ten minutes?"
Dana seemed unfazed. "It's not that advanced. We're just comparing it against voice data for known terrorists under surveillance."
Ten minutes passed swiftly, and then a familiar profile appeared on the main screen. Jubal's voice rose with intensity.
"Didn't we confirm that Khalid Baram was still in Syria as of early this year?"
"That information was based on secondhand intel, which seems to have been faulty," replied the NSA liaison.
"Well, it's good we caught it now," Dana Moyer sighed. "If he's here, we can't let him slip out of New York. Attention, everyone—I want this face distributed to every NYPD officer."
The operations center buzzed with activity as liaison officers from various agencies began picking up their phones.
"Don't we have a clearer photo?" one officer grumbled.
"That's the best we've got. The man is highly elusive," Jubal replied, quickly making his way over to the NYPD liaison's desk.
"We need every bridge, airport, train station, and harbor covered. NYPD must secure every possible exit to make sure he doesn't get away."