by Bob Blanton
“Isn’t that a bit dangerous?” Lt. Bennett asked. “She could panic and set the vest off. Standard procedure is to establish contact on the phone first.”
“Yes, I know what standard procedure is. I have assurances that the vest is disabled.”
“Then why don’t we just go in and take her?”
“Because we need to know who is behind this. We have other potential bombs out here; we need her cooperation to identify who is behind this attack. Now can you do that?” Capt. Mustafa was almost shouting.
“Yes, sir.”
“Keep your comm open and we’ll feed you any new information we get.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go!”
Capt. Mustafa turned to his assistant, “Now let’s follow standard procedure and call.”
◆ ◆ ◆
“Answer the phone and hang up,” shouted the woman in the bomb vest.
Matthew watched as Lt. Bennett eased her way through the back office and into the teller area. She tapped the teller who was standing there white knuckled, flashed her badge, and told the teller to sit on the floor.
Several of the hostages noticed the movement but couldn’t see what was actually happening; the other teller had seen the badge, so she just kept standing as she had been instructed earlier.
“I told you not to move,” the woman in the vest shouted. “Wait, you’re not …“
“I know,” Lt. Bennett said, as she showed her badge. “I’m here to help. Please don’t panic; we wouldn’t want anything to happen.”
“I can’t help it,” the woman cried. She looked at the dead-man switch in her hand as though trying to decide if she should release it.
“Now why don’t you tell me your name?” Lt. Bennett asked. “Let me try and help you.”
“I’m Haala Taheri,” the woman said. “But I have to …”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Lt. Bennett said. “Just stay calm and act like everything is the same as it was earlier.”
“Okay,” Haala said. She shifted herself and looked at the clock.
“I see you looked at the clock. Is time important?”
“Yes, I’m not supposed answer the phone until two,” Haala stammered.
“What happens then?”
“I have demands to read.”
“Lt. Bennett, we have confirmation that the bomb vest is disarmed.”
“Why don’t you walk around a bit, we don’t want anyone thinking we’re having a conversation. Nobody is going to be able to set your vest off.”
“What?”
“You had a guardian angel watching out for you; the cellphone was turned off before you put the vest on.”
“Oh thanks to the Prophet,” Haala said. “But what about my children?”
“What about them, are they in danger?”
“They had pictures of my children. They said if I didn’t do what they said, they would kill them.”
“What about your husband?” Lt. Bennett asked.
“He’s serving in Iraq,” Haala said. She was starting to cry.
“Okay, Haala, you’re doing fine. Now where are your children?”
“They should be in school, Thomas Jefferson Elementary.”
“And their names and ages?”
“Aalia is my daughter, she is in third grade. Habil is my son, he’s in first grade.”
“Okay, we’ll have someone check on them right away. Now tell me what happened to bring you here.”
Haala walked to the over to the desk and back, looking around at all of the hostages.
“They grabbed me when I was getting off the bus for work.”
“Where was that?”
“Montgomery and Pitt.”
“Who grabbed you?”
“Two men. I’ve never seen them before. They showed me a picture of my children and told me to get into their car if I wanted to keep them safe. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Can you describe them?”
“Yes, tall, Arab, one very dark with full beard, the other lighter skin and not much of a beard.”
“How old were they?”
“The tall one was thirties. The other, early twenties.”
“How tall was the tall one?”
“Six feet, maybe a little taller. Same as my husband.”
“And the other?”
“Shorter, maybe five-eight, five-nine. Just about two inches taller than me.”
“What were they wearing?”
“The tall one had on a business suit. Brown. The other one was wearing jeans and a black hoodie.”
“What kind of vehicle did they use?”
Haala stopped moving and thought hard. “It was dark, blue I think. Four doors.”
“What make?”
“American made. A Chevy. Yes I remember the emblem on the side.”
“Anything else?”
“No, that’s all I remember.”
“Ask her how she got to the bank,” Capt. Mustafa said into the comm.
“How did you get to the bank?”
“They dropped me off two blocks east. Then I walked.”
“Good, very good.”
◆ ◆ ◆
Matthew called Capt. Mustafa. “Anything on the bombs?”
“Yes, we’ve identified one other bomb. We have one of the bomb squad dressed as a homeless person. He says given your description of the bomb, he’s confident he can disarm it,” Capt. Mustafa said.
“Okay, sounds like you guys have it under control now. I’ll try and keep tabs on things in case I can help.”
“Now exactly who are you and where are you? How did you get wind of this?”
“Sorry, can’t help you. Good luck.” Matthew typed and turned the phone off. “Okay, are you ready for the beach?” he asked Emily.
“That’s it?”
“All I can do,” Matthew said. “I’ll take my stuff with me just in case.”
“Crazy.”
As they drove to the beach, Matthew kept tabs on the situation. It didn’t take the police long to find a dark blue Chevy parked on a side street. One man was behind the wheel, another man was in the park where he had a view of the bank. They matched the descriptions and were signaling to each other.
“Sir, bomb squad says the bomb is disarmed.”
“Good,” Capt. Mustafa said. “What’s up with our two friends?”
“They’re just sitting.”
“Jones, what is the status of the children?” Capt. Mustafa asked.
“Protective services just picked them up from school.”
“Good. Then let’s see if we can get these bad guys to make a move.” Captain Mustafa keyed his mic, “Lt. Bennett, we’ve disarmed all the bombs and we have her children with protective services. I want to force the perpetrators to call the number. Can you arrange that?”
“Yes sir. Haala, all the bombs are disarmed and we picked your children up from school. We know they’re watching you. We’d like them to act now. So can you make a show of surrendering?”
“Yes,” Haala said, and removed the scarf from her head. “I never wear one of these unless I’m in the mosque. They told me to put it on so I would better fit the image of a suicide bomber.”
Haala walked to the door of the bank, stepped outside and held her hands up.
The phone on the table beside Capt. Mustafa rang. “Got them. Move, move, move.”
Matthew saw several bystanders suddenly move to take the man sitting on the park bench to the ground, shouting, “Police.” Then a police car raced up and pinned the Chevy in. A couple of ‘street bums’ produced guns and covered the man behind the wheel.
“They got it all taken care of,” Matthew said to Emily.
“Great. Matt, how come you always seem to know what to do?”
“I don’t know, probably all the reading I do. There’s always a story that’s similar that I think of, or something that has parallelism to what’s happening. They say genius is the ability to correlate two situ
ations, drawing on one to solve the other.”
“Hmmm… Anyway this means we can enjoy our day on the beach?”
“I hope so.”
◆ ◆ ◆
“Dinner’s ready,” Mrs. Stevenson called out.
“What are we having?” Jason asked.
“Don’t ask that,” Emily said. “You sound like you’re going to decide if you want to eat or not.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just curious.”
“We’re having coconut shrimp, mahi-mahi, pineapple rice and a salad,” Mrs. Winthrop said. “Does that meet with your approval?”
“Of course.”
“We just got back from the golf course an hour ago,” Mr. Stevenson said. “How did you manage all this?”
“I made the salad,” Emily boasted.
“And I ordered the rice and shrimp from the local restaurant. I just made the mahi-mahi and uncorked the wine,” Mrs. Stevenson said.
“It looks delicious.”
“Walter, did you hear about the terrorist thing in D.C.?” asked Tyler.
“We caught it on a news recap coming back from the golf course. It’s fortunate that no one was injured,” Mr. Stevenson said.
“Well they should hang the woman,” Tyler said. “I can’t believe these people come to our country and then attack us.”
“I’m sure the Justice Department will come up with the appropriate punishment,” Mr. Stevenson said.
“I just don’t get these suicide bombers,” Jason said.
“Well a lot of them are being coerced through threats to their families,” Mr. Stevenson said. “Others have so little regard for their own lives that they’re susceptible to the terrorist narrative.”
“What do you mean, Daddy?” Emily asked.
“Well, if you think your life is meaningless and are depressed, you’re looking for something to give it meaning. The terrorists prey on that, building a narrative of victimization that these people fall into. Then they give them an opportunity to make one last statement.”
“You’d think they would run out of recruits,” Tyler said.
“Unfortunately the war against terrorism generates more recruits. Every time there are civilian casualties, the family and friends of those people become ripe for recruitment. And it’s impossible to conduct a war without civilian casualties, especially when the fighting is inside cities. Even our drone strikes against terrorist leaders result in as many or more civilian casualties as enemy casualties.”
“But if they’re with them, then they’re enemies too,” Tyler injected.
“Not always, the house next door, or the other car on the street. Plus it’s difficult to say that the women and children in the house were aiding and abetting the enemy; it sounds callous. And with bombing and drone strikes, the enemy controls the narrative on the ground.”
“Walter, can we change the subject?” Mrs. Stevenson pleaded.
“Suffice it to say, it’s very complicated and all sides share part of the blame in spreading the problem,” Mr. Stevenson said. “Now how was your day on the beach?”
◆ ◆ ◆
“Hi, Matt, are you having tea?” Emily asked, as she came into the kitchen.
“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep. I thought this might help.”
“Have you checked in with Sayid after this morning?”
“Yes. I try to do a quick check anytime I think of it. I caught him on the phone; I’m sure he was talking about the D.C. thing. What was funny was it sounded like he said that the bank thing had served its purpose. He was definitely pleased with himself.”
“That is weird. Why would he be happy when the police thwarted it and nobody was killed?”
“Right, and they caught the guy in charge,” Matthew said. “You have to assume that all he cares about is the authorities knowing about it. That doesn’t sound like a terrorist plot; more like a distraction.”
“You’re just going to have to keep track of him.”
“I’m hoping Caruthers does that. He tossed the phone he was using into the harbor.”
“So? That’s been his pattern; he uses the phone once then tosses it.”
“Well I caught this one before it got wet. I checked out the number he called and alerted Caruthers to it, it was a different number than the last one. Hopefully she can find the guy on the other end. I put the phone in the attic of one of the warehouses around there, I’m thinking it might come in handy.”
“Won’t the guy he called toss his phone, too?”
“Sayid has to be able to call him, so I think Sayid tosses his phone so if they catch the other guy, they can’t trace it back to him. Sayid has a whole box of burner phones with him. I’m thinking I need to get all those phone numbers to Caruthers.”
“How will you do that?”
“I just have to turn them on to find out the numbers. Then I can send the list to Caruthers. I just need to find a convenient time.”
That night Matthew managed to get all the numbers of the phones in Sayid’s box. Using his portal to turn each of them on, record the numbers then turn them off. He texted them to Agent Caruthers the next morning before everyone else woke up.
◆ ◆ ◆
“Brea, you need to hurry and get ready, the boat should be picking us up in twenty minutes,” Mrs. Stevenson said.
“Plenty of time,” Brianna said. “I don’t have to do my hair.”
“Who won?”
“She beat me 6-4,” Brianna said. “She was ready for me this time.”
“Well it sounds like you did fine, now scoot.”
“Hi, Mom. Where’s Daddy?” Emily asked.
“Your father decided to play golf at the last minute.”
“Oh, what a spoilsport.”
“My thoughts exactly. He said he’d wave to us from the Kapalua Golf Course. It’s right above one of the snorkeling spots.”
◆ ◆ ◆
“Boat’s here,” Jeffrey yelled.
“Eleven o’clock, right on time,” Tyler said. “We should get in some great snorkeling. We’re just a few miles from Kapalua Bay.”
“Emily, do you have the sunscreen?”
“Yes, Mother. Two bottles right here.”
“Good, you have to reapply it every time you get out of the water.”
“You told us that at breakfast.”
Everyone trouped down to the large catamaran at the end of the small pier shared by the group of houses they were staying in.
“There’s plenty of room down here and it’s sheltered. The upper deck gives you a better view but it’s windier,” the crewman said, as he helped everyone on board.
“I’m staying down here where it’s warm,” Alex said.
After the boat got moving on the water, Tyler and Jeffrey, who had been the only ones to go to the upper deck, came back down to huddle with the rest.
“Too cold for you?” Matthew asked. Emily discreetly poked Matthew in the ribs. “It’ll probably be nice and warm on the way back.”
“Would you two gentlemen like some coffee, decaf or tea?” the steward asked.
“Coffee,” Tyler said. Jeffrey held up two fingers indicating that the steward should bring two cups.
“I hope we get to see some sea turtles,” Jennifer said.
“Me too,” Emily said. “They’re supposed to hang around Kapalua bay.”
“They’re protected,” Mrs. Stevenson said, “so make sure you don’t harass them.”
“We won’t, we just want to get some good pictures,” Jason said, as he held up an elaborate underwater camera.
“Wow, nice camera,” Matthew said.
“It sure is,” Jason said. “It’s a Leica XU. Expensive, but it takes the best pictures ever. Dad got it when we were in the Bahamas two years ago.”
“Well you watch, my little Nikon will take better pictures,” Alex said. “And it cost one tenth of what that one cost.”
“You’re on, the one with the best picture of a turtle gets to pick the next m
ovie.”
“It’s going to be a chick flick,” Alex said. “You’d better prepare yourself.”
“I think you’re the one who has to be prepared. Commandos on the left, commandos on the right, yeah.”
“Look, dolphins,” Brianna shouted. “There are so many of them!”
Everyone ran up the side deck to get a better look at the dolphins.
“They love to play in the boat’s wake,” Tyler said.
“That’s because they love to surf,” Emily said.
“Yes, I’ve seen them surfing in the waves off the beach in front of the house,” Matthew added.
“Why didn’t you call us?” Brianna asked.
“At seven o’clock in the morning?”
“Oh, smart man.”
The dolphins left after about fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes later the boat was slowing down to enter Kapalua Bay.
“Okay, you guys want to go ahead and gear up. The captain will be cruising for a few minutes to find the best spot on the reef.”
The girls removed the kaftans they were wearing. “Wait, where are the bikinis,” Tyler complained, as he saw that the girls were wearing short-sleeved wetsuits.
“Bikinis are for the beach, we’re going snorkeling,” Emily said.
“Yes, and the water is kind of cold, or haven’t you noticed?” Alex said.
The catamaran anchored and the crewman told everyone it was safe to dive in. The kids divided into couples and dove in.
“I told you the water was cold,” Emily said.
“They said it was seventy-five,” Tyler said.
“That’s cold.”
Everyone drifted to various parts of the reef to explore. After an hour they started to reconvene at the catamaran for a rest. They all exchanged comments about the various fish they had seen while they warmed up in the sun.
“No turtles yet,” Alex complained, looking to see if anyone had seen any sign of one.
“Not yet, but you have to give it time. They might be out in deep water right now,” the crewman said.
“Well we won’t be seeing any turtles here on deck,” Jason said, as he gathered his gear to head back to the reef. Jeffery and Tyler were right behind him. It wasn’t until Matthew got up a few minutes later that the girls grabbed their gear.
“What’s up?” Matthew asked.
