A tap on the shoulder interrupted his thoughts. One of the ship’s crew was telling him that a message had come in for him at the bridge and he should come as soon as was convenient. When he arrived at the bridge, he was given a thumb drive. He went to his cabin and plugged the drive into his laptop and waited a few minutes for the file to be decrypted. It was a message from someone he had never met, the man or woman who helped him plan the current mission and helped him acquire the weapon. It was a short message, a slight change of plans.
Rendezvous with private yacht King’s Ransom at 24.3604 lat., -89.8952 long. at 22:00 on June 30 and transfer package before proceeding to port. More secure route for delivery of package.
27
Saturday, June 24
Parkland, FL
Fareeq Hamada made a low approach, lined up on the two poles sticking out of the ground, and decreased the throttle. He kept the plane level and hooked the line on the first try, then increased the throttle and began to climb. He hardly ever needed a second pass to hook the banner, not like the first time he tried when he needed to come around two more times before he hooked it. It was now second nature, as simple as landing. Just get the approach right, get your speed right, and let the hook dangling from the tail hook the line before increasing speed and climbing.
As he climbed, the banner unfurled behind the plane and he turned south and headed toward Marlins Park, a short flight of roughly 40 miles. The client wanted several passes over the ballpark during the first two innings, but not starting until after the National Anthem was sung. The start time of the game was 4:10 and it was now 3:45. At his current airspeed, he should arrive over the stadium at 4:10, which should do just fine.
Fareeq started training on the Cessna 172 a year ago when his cousin Mahmoud arranged for him to come to the United States to attend the University of Miami. Fareeq was attending the University, taking a couple classes each semester to satisfy the student visa, and spending all his free time and a good deal of his cousin’s money learning to fly. Mahmoud owned three aircraft and had started a banner advertising company serving a good part of the southern U.S. When Fareeq became qualified on the Cessna, he was hired immediately and began learning how to tow the banners. Once he got it down, it was easy enough. Hook the banner, fly to whatever venue he was instructed to, fly the banner around for a prescribed amount of time, and return to the airport. Not difficult work and the money wasn’t bad either.
He was scheduled to do this game and two more in the following week and then he would have a few days off. The next job would be on July 11, and that would be his last, not only his last flying job, but his last task on earth if all went as planned. He was nervous about it, but it wasn’t the fear of death but the fear of failure that gnawed at him. Mahmoud assured him that he would do fine. The hard work was being taken care of by others. He would get his plane like any other day, would hook the banner like any other day, and would fly to the stadium. There was only one difference. He would make a few passes over the stadium and then put the plane into a dive straight into the ballpark. A moment later, Allah would welcome him into paradise as a martyr.
A few miles to the south, Richard and Martha King sat in the owner’s box at Marlins Park awaiting the first pitch and discussing their plans for the evening. Richard was living the dream. Still a year shy of his fiftieth birthday and he was already a billionaire and the new owner of the team, completing the purchase during the offseason, not bad for a poor kid from Detroit. He made his first million in real estate and branched out from there. Real estate was still his main focus, but he owned two media outlets and a brokerage firm in south Florida as well. The fact that the Marlins were playing well was the icing on the cake. He had achieved all of his life goals and he was still fairly young.
He was also, as of yesterday, the owner of a new Soraya 46 yacht. It was not nearly as ostentatious as some of his peers owned, but it was perfect for him and it had a helipad. It was the perfect vessel for sightseeing or for entertaining friends.
“You’re hoping to take the boat out today?” Martha asked.
“Of course.”
“You’re like a kid with a new toy. It can’t wait until tomorrow?”
“Come on, just a short little cruise. We can go down to Key West for a couple days, have dinner at that place you like.”
“I guess you’ve already thought this over .”
“Of course. George will pick us up here right after the 7th inning and take us straight down. She’s already fueled and ready to go.”
“What about dinner with the Russell’s?”
“Put off until next week. Chris is sick.”
“I didn’t know that…Oh Richard, look. How romantic.”
Richard looked up where she was pointing and saw the plane flying over with the banner that read Lisa, will you marry me? Love, Troy
“Well, I wish the young man luck,” he said as he raised his glass, “Here’s to love.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Martha said as she touched her glass to his, “Here’s to love.”
“And to the maiden voyage of the King’s Ransom,” Richard said as he took a sip.
Ahmed set the cup of tea down on Miriam’s desk and sat down in his chair.
“Thank you, Ahmed.”
“You’re welcome. See anything unusual while I was gone?”
“Nothing at all. It’s been a quiet day. No trace of that ship either.”
“Quiet few weeks, and we knew finding the ship was a long shot. We’ll have Casey and Ken in Mexico before it gets there.”
“I was hoping we could find it before then.”
“And exactly how would we be expected to deal with it at sea?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Jenny or Avi would have thought of something.”
“I’m not sure…wait a second…you getting this alert?”
“Yeah, looks like the computer’s flagged something.”
Ten minutes later they had translated most of what the computer had flagged, phone conversations and emails in Arabic, detailing another attack.
“I think we found the diversion,” Ahmed said.
“You think so?”
“Sure, looks like it. This was pretty sloppy. Whole phone conversations clear as a bell and these emails detailing the attack, like someone wanted us to find it.”
Ahmed sent a quick message to Jenny and started browsing ticket sites. Five minutes later Jenny and Rachel showed up at his desk.
“You like the Zac Brown Band?” he asked Rachel.
“Country’s not really my thing, but they’re okay, why?”
“Got you a ticket. On the printer over there. July 1 in Milwaukee.”
“Okay…and what does this have to do with anything?” Jenny asked.
“Take a look at what we found. I think it’s the diversion we were looking for.”
“That’s rather bold. That place will have pretty tight security. How do you figure they’d get in there with weapons?”
“The park’s on the lake. If it were me, I’d slip the weapons in by boat and stash them somewhere along the lakeshore.”
“Okay, Rachel, put that ticket with your things and have Avi help you pack your bags, especially certain items.”
“I have a valid conceal carry. I don’t have to hide it.”
“He’s probably got you a different ID.”
“Or I could drive up the day before. It’s not that far.”
“I’ll leave that up to you and Avi. This is an all- day festival. You’ll want to go when it opens and familiarize yourself with the layout. If you can find the weapon stash before the terrorist does, much the better. You can go back to your training. If you see Casey out there, send him in.”
Richard and Martha sat on the deck as the King’s Ransom moved along at a comfortable 12 knots. They could have gone faster, but he saw no use in hurrying. They would turn in before they reached Key West. George would make anchor and they would wake in the morning and go ashore. It was a p
erfect evening to be on the water and they both sat in companionable silence and looked out over the water. The bottle of wine they had shared an hour ago was working its usual magic and they were both feeling mellow. Richard was hoping the wine would have its usual effect on Martha. Maybe in another hour they could go below and…what the hell was that?
He thought he heard the sound of an outboard motor close by, but he could be mistaken. Then he heard a few muffled thumps and when he turned there were two black clad figures running across the deck from the starboard rail. One of the figures raised something in his hands and Martha let out a gasp as two holes appeared in her chest. She stared at him in disbelief for a couple seconds before her eyes went blank and she pitched over. He barely had time to register his wife’s death before he heard another muffled spit and he was kicked hard in the chest. He looked down at the two holes in his chest and never had the time to wonder who would want him dead before he (,too)was gone.
Two men also came over the port rail and were on the bridge before George knew what was going on. He suffered the same fate, two quick rounds to the chest before he saw it coming. In less than a minute the attackers had killed the two crew members in the engine room and had complete control of the yacht. They steered out toward the open ocean, dropped the weighted bodies overboard, and sent an encrypted message that everything was on schedule.
Langley, VA
The mole waited by the phone, but it never rang. Instead, an email came over the secure server they had set up for urgent communication. The message was complete gibberish, but the opening sequence of characters indicated which one- time pad was to be used to decrypt the message. One- time pads had been around almost as long as mankind had taken a notion to spy on his fellow man and they were the most secure method of encryption, since the encryption key was only used once and discarded. Anyone without the key would have an extremely difficult time deciphering the message. After applying the key, the mole read the message.
The yacht is secure and will be at the assigned rendezvous on the 30th. Khalid will transfer the package to the yacht and will proceed to port. The diversion is scheduled for the 1st when Khalid is expected to arrive in port. If there is more than one operative, Veracruz will be a dead end as well. More instructions will follow. Our work is almost done.
“Now this is a weird one,” Ahmed said
“What’s weird about it?” Miriam asked.
“Just intercepted an email but the computer can’t make heads or tails out of it.”
Miriam took a look at the file and called Jenny, who arrived a moment later.
“We just got this email, but the computer can’t seem to decrypt it. It’s total nonsense,” Ahmed told Jenny.
“The computer should be able to decipher it eventually, but who knows how much time we have,” Jenny said, “Is Rachel around?”
“Probably outside training. Should I call her?”
“Yes, please. She might know something about this.”
Rachel arrived short of breath and soaked in perspiration a moment later.
“What do you have?” she asked.
“Take a look at this,” Ahmed said, “We found this email on a server in Langley and we can’t make anything of it. Obviously encrypted, but it appears to be a good old- fashioned code.”
“Probably a one- time pad.”
“A what?”
“You never read that many spy novels?”
“Not exactly. Care to bring me up to speed?”
“They’re old fashioned, but still used. You have keys that are referenced somehow, either by a number or by a particular sequence of characters. Sometimes the opening characters of the message might indicate which pad to use. The pads are only used once and destroyed. Only the sender and the recipient have the pads and once the message is read the pad is most likely burned.”
“So, you think this message was deciphered that way?”
“It’s a good chance. Dad told me all about them. Your computer might be able to crack it eventually, but if these people used a pad, this message was urgent and time sensitive.”
“It’s probably our mole, getting wiser and not wanting to risk us intercepting the message,” Jenny said.
“Does this change our plans?” Ahmed asked.
“Not one bit for now. Casey and Ken are headed to Mexico and Rachel is headed to Milwaukee. If the computer makes any progress on that file, we can cross that bridge when we come to it. Have you and Casey had any luck narrowing down a possible target?”
“I took the suggestion of baseball parks and I’ve been searching anything I could find in the cities that have teams. I’ve only found one item of interest, but it might not even be connected. Still, it’s interesting. Look.”
Jenny looked at the web site he had pulled up, Aero Ads of South Florida.
“They’ve only been in business for a little over a year,” Ahmed said, “I did some digging. The proprietor is Mahmoud Hussein. Mr. Hussein immigrated from Syria twenty years ago and has operated several businesses over the years. all completely legit, including this one.”
“Why do you think that’s of interest?”
“Just a hunch. It’s a new business and they specialize in those banner advertisements flown behind airplanes. He opened this business, bought some cheap acreage in Parkland, FL, and put in an airstrip. They have three planes and they’ve been servicing outdoor events in south Florida since then.”
“And you think that could be suspicious?”
“Well, Miami is one of the cities that could be a possible target. The Marlins have home games during that time frame and Miami is hosting the All- Star Game this year. We already figured that the bomb can’t be planted ahead of time for security reasons, but what better way to deliver it than an advertising plane? There will be several of them flying over the park during the games. Nobody would suspect anything.”
“And if they close the roof? Doesn’t that stadium have one of those retractable roofs?”
“They still fly over, for the TV cameras and for other folks around the city.”
“You could have something there, but we can’t exactly show up there looking for a bomb in the hangar.”
“Why can’t we? If Casey can’t intercept it in Mexico, that might be our only option.”
“Okay, you keep digging and see if you can come up with anything else. In the meantime, our plans remain the same.”
28
June 30
Gulf of Mexico
Hasan Khalid was on the bridge of the Qadira watching out the window. The rendezvous time wasn’t for another twenty minutes, but he was hoping the yacht would be early so he could get this part over with. This was the part of every operation he dreaded. He was a hands- on person and was always uneasy about delegating duties to others, but he knew an operation of this magnitude would require just that. He understood that, but he wasn’t comfortable with it. He thought the initial plan was solid enough, but his contact thought there was a more secure way of getting the bomb into the U.S. and this contact had never been wrong about anything yet.
If all went well, his part in the operation would be finished in a few minutes and he could deliver his cargo and make his way back to Iraq. No, forget Iraq. He’d need to lay low for a while and that wouldn’t be the best place. The ship would need to be gotten rid of. Shame. This ship had been a good source of legitimate income, but after everything went down, it would only be a matter of time before the Americans pieced things together and the Qadira would be at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean by then.
His men had brought the bomb up from the hold and it was sitting on the deck ready to go, still in a shielded crate. He didn’t know how good the shielding was, so he kept his distance. How much distance he needed to keep he wasn’t sure, but hopefully the shielding on the case and the shielding of the ship’s hold was enough to protect him. He looked up and saw the lights of the approaching yacht, still early, and then the yacht stopped and didn’t come any closer. He
wondered why when he heard the whump whump whump of rotors and saw the helicopter descend to the deck. The yacht must have a helipad. That would make things easier.
When the helicopter touched down, two men got out and motioned to his men who were on the deck and they loaded the crate onto the helicopter. A moment later, it lifted off and flew toward the yacht. He felt a certain apprehension that the next part of the operation was out of his hands, but at the same time he felt a relief that the device was off his ship. He trusted those who worked for him and he believed they would do their jobs and everything would go as planned. He spoke briefly to the man at the helm and retired to his cabin, where he prayed for Allah’s continued blessing on the mission before drifting off to an uneasy sleep.
Rachel drove up to Milwaukee two days early and attended the festival, partly to get the lay of the land and partly to try to get some r and r. It had been non- stop since her parents had been killed and she had come to Ohio with Casey. She was training constantly, on the computer system and physically, and was probably in better shape than at any other time in her life, including the years she had spent as a college athlete.
As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t completely shut it off. She wandered the festival grounds enjoying the music and too much food of questionable nutritional value, but she was taking in everything the way her father had taught her, analyzing the flow of the crowds and looking for ways she could make a quick exit if things went south. She didn’t like what she saw. The crowd was as diverse as it gets. There was no way she could pick one Arab out of a crowd of thousands, many of whom were Arabs. She knew the target venue, but the ground in front of that stage was vast. The attacker could be anywhere in that crowd when the show started .
Wolf Trap (Casey Reddick Book 1) Page 21
