Warn Me When It's Time

by Cheryl A Head

  “I think that’s very well thought out,” Tom Cortez said. “Don’t you think so, Walt?”

  “Yes. But his analysis doesn’t solve our problem. If our goal is a serious wake-up call to those in power about the issues facing our city, region, and country, we’ll need a significant demonstration,” he said passionately. “Our immigration policies affect every man at this table. We want to focus on a church with a substantial congregation of Hispanics, and one that isn’t so small that the whole affair will be forgotten in a few months.”

  “I think that leaves us with three churches to consider,” another strike force member said rising from the table. “These three.”

  He wrote the names of the churches on an easel pad. Don’s heart sank. He had been married in one of those churches. When they heard a whoosh and felt a gust of air, everyone turned toward the door. Robbie stepped in out of breath and still wearing his bike helmet.

  “I’m, I’m sorry I’m late. We had a network crash at work, and I had to stay to get the system up again.”

  “It’s okay, Robbie,” Cortez said with obvious irritation at the disruption. “You’re here now, so take a seat. We were just discussing the possible church locations. Don here has provided a very helpful analysis of the costs and challenges of each job.”

  “Oh, of course, yes, Don,” Robbie said, ripping off his helmet and taking a seat.

  Robbie looked at Don wide-eyed, then his face reddened and he quickly looked away. Don was pretty sure Walt had seen the whole thing.

  “Don, how soon could you get an estimate on the cost of the explosives you’ll need?” Cortez asked.

  “I can give you a rough estimate now. I used to be a patrolman with the Detroit Police Department, and I’m familiar with the three churches,” Don said, standing. “I’ll rank them from highest to lowest in terms of expenses.” He marked a 1 next to St. Anne’s, a 2 next to Holy Redeemer, and a 3 next to Juan Diego.

  “We’re talking about twenty grand for number one, five for the second, and probably three to five for the smallest church,” Don said. When he turned to the group, he saw Walt staring at Robbie.

  “That’s fine,” Walt said slowly, switching his gaze to Don. “Now we have just one more piece of business. No offense to you, Curtis, but we have only your word for your experience with explosives . . .”

  “And you want a demonstration of my skills,” Don said. “I’m happy to answer any questions you have now. I could even return another time with the materials I need to assemble a simple explosive device for you.”

  “Oh, no. We don’t think that would be a good idea,” Cortez said. “No, no, we don’t want you to bring explosives here.”

  “We had something else in mind,” Walt said.

  They met for another hour. Don grew anxious as the men outlined a plan to use a Memorial Day event as the opportunity to inflict violence and destruction against an area Black community. It was as much a test of Don’s commitment to the cause, as it was proof of his bomb-making experience. He needed to get a message to James.

  # # #

  When the meeting finally adjourned, Robbie rushed over to Don to shake hands.

  “Hi, kid, glad to meet you in person,” Don said loudly.

  Walt walked up behind Robbie and Don, and then stepped closer. “I though perhaps you two already knew each other.”

  “No, no,” Robbie began in a flustered state.

  “It only feels like we know each other,” Don said, interrupting. “We’ve had many online conversations. We have a couple of groups in common.”

  “Oh? Which ones?”

  “Besides this one, a group called Stormfront,” Don said, remembering the name.

  “They’re based in Europe,” Robbie added.

  “Yes. I’ve heard of them.”

  “Well, it’s been good to meet you both,” Don said, trying to get away before Robbie said something stupid. “I’ve had a long day and I’m heading home. I look forward to our chat tomorrow, Walt. Will it just be the two of us?”

  “No, of course not. Our treasurer will be there. We’ll want to give you the funds you need for our little test project and get your ideas on the best way to implement it.”

  “I’ll do some thinking about the task,” Don said. “Will we meet here?”

  “No. We’ll meet in my office. Tom has your contact information?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’ll get you the address and time. Good to meet you.” Walt turned away from them.

  “You okay, kid?” Don asked in a low voice.

  “Yes. Sorry to be late.”

  “That’s okay. Just be cool. Listen more than talk. Oh, and watch out for that Walt guy.”

  # # #

  Don needed an immediate conversation with James. He turned on the lights and the TV of his fourth-floor apartment, then walked to the window. He looked out and flashed the blinds once before closing them. In five minutes there was a knock at the door.

  “There’s a call for you,” the tall man said.

  Don followed him down the hall. The agent was barefoot and wore suit pants and a T-shirt. They arrived at an apartment, and the man unlocked the door and held it open for Don. It was a studio but with no bed. There were four sleeping bags on the floor, one chair, a TV, and three desks—all with computers blinking from various web pages.

  “I’m agent Schlitz. The phones are over there,” he said, pointing to one of the desks.

  Don found a landline phone plugged into the wall, the receiver resting on the desktop.

  “Hello,” Don said.

  “Hi, Don. You called?” James’s voice rang out.

  “I need to talk to you, Saleh. They threw a monkey wrench into the works tonight.”

  “What happened?”

  “They want a demonstration to show I know what I’m doing with the explosives.”

  “We expected that. We’ll set up something. How soon does it need to happen?”

  “It’s already scheduled.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It means they already have a test job planned for me on Monday. They want me to set off a bomb at the Memorial Day parade in Inkster.

  “Shit.”

  “Exactly. What do I do?”

  “Come to the construction trailer at nine. I’ll be there, and I’ll bring Charlie with me.”

  Chapter 19

  “I’ve got nothing but bad news to report,” Don said when James and Charlie had taken seats in the Donovan Construction trailer. Agents Riley and K were also on hand, and Commander Coleman was expected. “First, the Turks are targeting a Catholic church with a large Mexican congregation for their big event. They’ve asked me to do the estimates on materials and other expenses. Charlie, one of the churches is Holy Redeemer.”

  “Oh my god,” Charlie said. James looked between them quizzically. “Don was married at Redeemer.”

  James nodded. “When are they planning the church attack?”

  “They’re talking a week from Sunday.”

  “What about this parade bombing you mentioned?” James asked.

  “That’s supposed to be a test of my abilities and nerves, I guess. The city of Inkster has one of the oldest Memorial Day parades in the state. They want me to plant bombs along the route.”

  “They want you to blow up a bunch of kids at a parade?” Charlie asked incredulously.

  “They specifically want to blow up Black people at a parade.”

  “Who’s blowing up Black people?” Coleman asked, entering the makeshift conference room. She was dressed in plainclothes.

  “The Turks,” James explained. “They want Don to disrupt the Inkster Memorial Day parade.”

  “There were five guys at the meeting, and they debated for a while about which parade they wanted me to do,” Don said. “In the end it came down to the one that would do the most damage to a Black community.”

  “I really hate these guys,” Charlie said.

  “Me too,” Coleman agreed
.

  “I’m meeting with one of the bigwigs in the group, and his money man, at three o’clock. I’m supposed to bring them the final plan.”

  “Who’s this bigwig?” James asked.

  “I’m not sure, but he’s got some juice. Here’s his address. We’re meeting at his office.”

  James jotted the information from Don’s phone and passed it to Agent Riley who moved over to a laptop.

  “I am not doing this test if it’ll hurt anybody,” Don announced.

  “No, of course not,” James agreed. “We’ll brainstorm something plausible to fake an attack.”

  They talked and planned for almost three hours, looking at maps, calling trusted contacts at the Inkster Police and Fire Departments, pulling up diagrams of IEDs and identifying personnel for the day of the staged incident. The Turks would have observers at the parade, so the bombing would have to appear real. The execution of this plan would require a lot of coordination, money, and manpower.

  “I can build a few small-load bombs that will make a lot of noise, and flames, but won’t do much damage,” Agent K announced. “We can place two or three of these devices, maybe in waste containers, tree boxes, or Porta-Johns, and have each guarded by an officer.”

  “Good thinking,” James said.

  “How do we convince the Turks of injuries—bodies, blood?” Charlie asked.

  James answered, “We can have our people use dye pellets. We should make sure we have five or so people near each device posing as parade viewers.”

  “We should have EMTs standing by, and fire personnel too,” Coleman added.

  “Don, what you’ll tell them is this is the kind of job better suited to IEDs,” Agent K advised. “You’ll only need about five hundred dollars for materials and supplies.”

  “Okay,” Don said, jotting notes.

  “The city website says the parade starts at noon and travels up Michigan Avenue toward City Hall,” Agent Riley said, handing James a diagram of the parade route and a note. “Maybe Don and I can go out tomorrow and scout the route.”

  “They may be watching me, Riley, and you still look like a G-man.”

  “I’ll go,” Agent K said.

  “I thought you didn’t like field assignments?” Don asked.

  “I don’t. But it’ll help me figure out the best way to construct the bombs if I can see the location.”

  “I think the Turks will suggest you plant the bomb at Inkster City Hall,” Charlie said. “If they want loss of life, that’s where the crowds will gather at the end of the parade.”

  “You have a point, Mack,” Don said, running a hand across his growing whiskers. “I think I’ll tell them if you really want to incite terror, you put a bomb where people go all the time. Some people have never set foot in City Hall, but everybody in Inkster has been on Michigan Avenue at one time or another. They drive it every day. The school buses take that road. People ride their bikes and walk their dogs on Michigan Avenue.”

  The truth of Don’s statement held the people in the trailer momentarily transfixed. Charlie felt a shiver pulse up her spine.

  “You should say it just like that, Don.”

  “Okay, so we have a game plan,” James said. “Go to your meeting, Don. I don’t think we should get together again today. I’m still worried about you being watched. We know you were followed to the warehouse last night. Instead of coming here tomorrow, stay in your apartment until late morning, spend a little time on social media playing the role, and then meet Agent K.”

  “This test might be a godsend,” Charlie said.

  “How do you figure that, Mack?”

  “Maybe with this event we can identify all the leaders, key members, and funders of the Turks. Draw them out into the open now so we don’t have to worry about an even bigger attack.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Commander Coleman said.

  Coleman and the agents left the trailer to get the operation rolling. Don asked Charlie and James to hang around.

  “I’m worried about Barrett.”

  “What’s the worry?” James asked.

  “He got to last night’s meeting late. He was flustered. Talked too much. Looked at me like he was waiting for me to give him orders. That Walt guy noticed.”

  “Oh, by the way, that Walt is a bigwig. The address you gave us is for the law offices of Walthrop J. Croft. He’s a commissioner for the Airport Authority, and on the governor’s Economic Development Committee,” James said.

  “He’s no fool,” Don said, “and I can tell he’s on the fence about me. I think this whole test is his idea to see if I am who I say I am.”

  “We’re already running a check on him,” James said. “I’ll also reach out to Robbie. Maybe give him another hacker assignment. Keep him busy. The guy’s really good at that stuff.”

  “Whatever you say, but the kid’s already acting like he’s FBI. You might have to release some of the helium in his head. Oh, and the other night after meeting that Chuck guy, I did have the feeling a car was following me. You think it’s the same one who followed me last night?”

  James and Charlie looked at each other. Charlie examined her nails. After her homeless performance, she’d gotten a manicure.

  “Uh, that was me,” Charlie finally said. “I was worried you were walking into a trap at the pub. I won’t be doing that anymore as you already have enough protection. I’ll just stick to our rendezvous schedule.”

  Don shrugged. “I thought I taught you better, Mack. You know you’re supposed to stay at least three car lengths behind.”

  Chapter 20

  Robbie was excited about his second face-to-face with Spader. This time it was during his lunch break at a McDonald’s close to his job. The restaurant was a short bike ride from his office building, and he spotted the green Cherokee in the parking lot as soon as he arrived. He put his lock on his bike, tucked his helmet under his arm, and was about to enter the restaurant when he heard his name called. He turned to find Spader leaning against the Jeep.

  “Hi. Sorry to be a few minutes late. You ready to go in?” Robbie asked.

  “No. Look, I’m going to have to skip lunch. I just got called to a meeting downtown, but I wanted to check in with you. See how you’re doing. See if you’re still interested in Stormfront because we sure are interested in you.”

  “Yes,” Robbie hesitated. “I’m still interested.”

  “You don’t sound so sure. I’ve looked for you on the message boards, and you haven’t been around.”

  “I just been kinda busy. Our network went down the other day, and I’m still trying to weed out all the malware and Trojans.”

  “See, that’s what I mean. You have impressive knowledge and skills. We need a guy like you.”

  Robbie felt the blood rushing to his face. He liked the attention. Everybody wanted him now. The White Turks, the FBI, Stormfront. He shifted his shoulders back and shrugged nonchalantly.

  “Yeah, thanks, I try to keep up with stuff.”

  Robbie and Spader traded a smile and a nod.

  “I see from the rooms the Turks have a big job coming up. Anything you can talk about?”

  Robbie thought about what Don had said: listen more than talk.

  “Well, I, uh, can’t really say.” Robbie shifted his helmet to the other hand.

  “Aww. Come on. I bet you’re on the inside. For a big job they’d be fools not to pull you in.”

  “I am on the inside.”

  “So?”

  “We want to make a dramatic statement about these immigrants coming over the border.”

  “Outstanding. How long do we have to wait?”

  “Not much longer. We’re going to end the month with a bang.”

  “June is busting out all over, huh?”

  Robbie’s face went blank, then cracked open with a smile. “Hey. I like that. I’m gonna use that.”

  “Well, I gotta go,” Spader said, reaching out his hand. “Your application is still working its way up the
ladder.”

  “Thank you,” Robbie said, shaking hands.

  # # #

  “How’s the kid doing?”

  “He’s okay,” Spader said, staring through the windshield at the restaurant. “I buttered him up. He’s feeling pretty good about himself.”

  “You still think we can use him?”

  “He’s got mad computer skills. I don’t think he has any idea how much he could make working in the private sector. He’s being underpaid at some insurance company right now. I put a virus into their network with an email, and I’ve watched him systematically trace the bug. He’s really good.”

  “So you think we can bring him in?”

  “I do, but I want to check him out a little more. I put a tracer on his bike. I don’t think he’ll find it, at least not for a couple of days.”

  “Okay. Let me know.”

  “Will do. Now I’m off to a meeting with Croft.”

  # # #

  Don’s instructions were to park in the rear of the building and use the service entrance. He casually noted the six vehicles tucked into the narrow lot and looked disdainfully at his borrowed truck. He poked the doorbell at the iron door and pushed it again after thirty seconds.

  “Can I help you?” the male voice asked from the combined camera/speaker.

  “I’m here to see Walt,” Don said. He heard a buzzer.

  “Take the stairs. Fifth floor.”

  On the second-floor landing, Don passed a tall guy with short-cropped hair and wearing sun glasses. He was moving quickly down the stairs. Damn, don’t they have elevators in these old buildings? He was panting a bit by the time he got to the door marked 5. He paused to slow his breathing before stepping through. A young man with wavy hair and round glasses sat at a desk a few yards from the door. He was looking Don’s way. He rose slowly, gathering a notebook and a handful of pink message slips before approaching Don.