by James Hunt
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Burke said.
Angela stayed out of it. They continued down a narrow windy road as an orange hue flickered far in the distance behind them. The fires were still burning from the power plant. To their side, downtown was a madhouse, and according to reports, they would face checkpoints at every turn. They needed a place to regroup. Some place safe, isolated, and away from all the madness. Her finger trailed the map to the nearest route west along Interstate 30.
“Closest city over is Irving. Lots of farm country out there,” she said.
“Sounds like a plan,” Burke said.
Martinez leaned forward, more collected after his brief conversation with his wife. “What do you think Asgar is going to do after learning that his attack failed?”
Angela hadn’t considered that question yet. Her prime focus had been in stopping the attack. Now that the job was done, there was no telling what Asgar would do next.
Burke thought to himself. “I’m guessing he has a backup plan. Something hasty no doubt. He’s losing and he knows it.”
“He may be desperate, but he’s absolutely committed to his cause,” Angela said.
A highway exit came into view and they could already see both the east and west bound lanes, bumper to bumper. They would have to look for alternative routes out of the city. Irving seemed like their best bet. Martinez called Hendrickson to let him know of their plans and as he talked, Angela closed her eyes, just for a moment, and imagined the time when everything was over and her daughters were back in her arms. Once that time came, she would never let them go again.
***
At a crowded table, under the low light of a hanging bulb, Asgar suddenly flipped the table over, tossing papers all over the room. His lieutenants looked down nervously as Asgar shouted in Arabic to no one in particular.
What had happened?
Who had interfered with their plans?
How could his men have failed him?
They had lost contact with the strike team an hour prior. The attack, presumably, had been unsuccessful, and over twenty of his men were feared dead or captured. They heard reports of an attack prevented at the Dallas power plant. The news had infuriated Asgar and pushed his need for vengeance. Documents floated down, landing at the men’s sandaled feet as they waited for their leader’s rage to subside.
Bosra, Asgar’s loyal guard, stood in the corner silent and observant. The tension in the air had escalated, with the premonition of things to come. The men knew of the bomb and of their leader’s plan. He could kill them all and millions more with the push of a button. Many of them had accepted martyrdom, but the timing seemed much too sudden. Perhaps their leader would hold off for the time being.
Asgar clutched the chair in front of him, breathing heavily with his head hung low. He spoke slowly as gray hair hung down, covering his face. “We made several calls throughout the city. Over fifty anonymous threats. How were the authorities able to stop us at the power plant? How did they have the manpower?” He raised his head snarling, and stared holes through his men.
Tarik, one of the head lieutenants, raised his hand to speak. “Perhaps, my leader, they have more resources than we believed.”
“More than we believed?” Asgar snapped. He held out his palm, counting on each finger. “Only a small percentage of Americans work in law enforcement. Even less serve in the military. The FBI employs an estimated five thousand agents. One and a half million serve in their entire military! ISIS has two hundred thousand trained fighters throughout the world, and our numbers are growing. There is no excuse!”
Asgar spun around, grabbed a chair, and hurled it over his men as they ducked down. The chair crashed against the concrete wall, splitting in two, the noise echoing in the air.
Tarik folded his hands together, pleading. “We’ve accomplished so much, my leader. Now is not the time to get discouraged. As you’ve said before. It is Allah’s will.”
His words seemed to resonate with their leader. Asgar took a step back and after a few moments, calmed down. “You are correct, Tarik. This latest obstacle changes nothing. The caliphate continues as planned. The Americans will die regardless.” He took a deep breath, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the remote detonator, to the awe of his men—some of whom feared the inevitable move Asgar was proposing. “Brothers. Once I push this button, we will achieve true martyrdom.” He then lowered the remote and placed it back into the pocket of his thin robe. “But we must first send one final message to the Americans, claiming our acts in the name of Allah and the Islamic State.”
The lieutenants nodded along, eager to hear their leader’s plan in detail.
“We will do this tonight. And once our message is broadcast, we will send them into hellfire.”
Wasim, a brooding, muscular man, stepped forward to interject. “Perhaps, my leader, there is another way.”
The room went silent with shock. Few dared to publicly question or contradict their leader, but Wasim seemed fearless, despite his timid tone.
Asgar turned to him, skeptical. “Another way? What is this about another way?”
All eyes turned to Wasim as he elaborated. “With all that we’ve accomplished so far, why should we end it here and now? There’s still much work to be done. An entire country at our mercy. Is there no other way?”
Asgar scratched his beard with a smile. “I understand where you are coming from, my Brother Wasim. So many of our brothers’ lives have been in this conquest. Is it necessary, as you ask, that we perish too?” He then stepped forward with resolute fortitude. “Paradise awaits all those who die in the name of Allah. We have to strike at the right moment. The Americans are closing in.” He raised his arms to address the entire group as one. “If we die tonight, my brothers, we die as one. Everything we do together. Everything we do under the guidance of Allah.”
Bosra shifted from his position in the corner of the room, rifle in hand, as though he was prepared to end the meeting at Asgar’s behest. The men noticed and shuffled to the door.
“That is all for now,” Asgar said. “Go among yourselves and pray. There is much still to be done.”
He then lifted the small table and turned it back on its legs. As the men exited the room, Asgar turned his head toward them to offer his parting words. “Do not fear what is coming, my brothers. Do not fear anything at all. Put your trust in Allah. He will guide the way.”
***
It was close to nine when they reached the outskirts of Irving, a safe distance from the chaos in Dallas. Burke led their convoy through the rural town as Angela looked around for a spot where they could stop. Old homes on acres of land thinned out, giving way to endless forest and brush. Angela pointed to a dirt trail on their right, where a faded rusty sign said Moss Lake.
“Looks like a good spot to me,” she said.
Burke nodded in agreement and turned off the road as the Outlaws followed, headlights flickering in the rearview mirror along the bumpy dirt road. They emerged from a narrow path among a cluster of redwoods and could see the vast, still water of the lake with the moon reflected on its surface. A silhouetted line of trees overlooked the lake, peaceful and serene. With such natural beauty surrounding them, it was hard to believe that the world was in so much trouble.
The plan was clear enough. They needed time to extract information on Asgar’s whereabouts. Their main link was a man they had captured. The militant driver who had so far told them nothing. It was a long shot, but it was the best chance they had, given the prospect of Asgar’s persistence in attacking Americans. The lake looked isolated and free of any onlookers. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around, only them, and it was time to get some answers.
Burke parked his car beside a dock that ran far out into the lake. The Outlaws parked behind him and shut off their engines.
Burke turned to Angela, satisfied with the location. “Let’s find out what this guy knows.” He put his gloves on and opened the door. Angela knew
the chilling routine by now. Whenever the gloves went on, someone usually died.
She didn’t like to see a person suffer, regardless of his affiliation, but whenever she thought of Doug and his brutal murder at the hands of ISIS, she was less inclined to object to whatever Burke had in mind.
“My legs are killing me,” Martinez said from the back seat. “Whatever you have to do, go at it. I couldn’t walk if I wanted to.”
She turned to him with a sympathetic look. “That’s fine,” she said with a sense of relief. “Just take it easy.”
He looked barely able to crack a smile, but he tried anyway. “Quite a scene back there…”
“It was, but it will be all over soon,” Angela said. She then gently touched his leg. “Thank you for helping us. We couldn’t have done this without you.”
Martinez waved her off. “Ah. I just made some phone calls. You guys are doing most of the work.”
Burke’s shadow passed behind the car as Angela opened her door and stepped out. The Outlaws exited their vehicles, stretching, and then gathered near the dock as Hendrickson pushed along their disheveled captive. The man’s hands were tied behind his back, his sweat-soaked face stricken with fear.
Hendrickson gave him another push as the Outlaws circled around him. Unseen crickets droned on in the background as the lake quietly rippled. Burke pushed his way through and got within inches of the man, staring him down.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
The man’s eyes shifted downward, but he didn’t answer. Burke then asked the same question in Arabic.
“Ibrahim,” the frightened driver said.
Burke asked the man if he spoke English. At first Ibrahim hesitated, shaking his head. Burke suddenly put the barrel of his pistol against the man’s forehead.
“Are you sure?” Burke asked.
“Okay! I know English. What do you want from me!” he shouted in a shaky voice.
Burke turned to the crowd. “Excellent. That should make this easier for us all.” He lowered his pistol and got within inches of Ibrahim’s face. “Your boss. We want to know where he is, and you’re going to tell us.” Burke made it sound as though their captive had no choice. That was, of course, part of his tactic, but if Ibrahim refused, it would only be a matter of time before his resistance was tested in unimaginable ways.
Angela stood cautiously to the side, hoping that whatever they did would garner the proper results quickly and in time. Each jihadi they had encountered was stubborn and proud up to a point. It was no satisfaction to her, seeing them break.
“Where is Asgar?” Burke asked pointblank, amid murmurs from the crowd. “You tell us where we can find him, and you will live. Don’t tell us, and my friends here will rip you to shreds.”
Ibrahim looked around nervously. He was a short man with a long, thick beard that reached down to his chest. He spoke softly and with an air of politeness. “I do not know. We got our orders and acted on them accordingly. Mr. Asgar is a secretive man. I’ve never met him, nor has he ever given us any knowledge of his location.”
Burke stared their captive down, amused. “Really, now?” He took a step back and scanned the hardened faces of the Outlaws surrounding them. “My friends and I don’t have a lot of time here. We’ve already taken out twenty or so of you bastards. What’s one more? So let me make this clear… You tell us where we can find your boss, or I step aside and let them have at it.”
Ibrahim darted his head around trying to mask his terror. Hendrickson stepped forward and smacked him on the back of the head, to the cheers of the other Outlaws. “Better speak up, Ibrahim.”
The group started chanting, all riled up. Angela stepped forward and put a hand on Burke’s shoulder. He turned, surprised to see her. “Let me talk to him,” she said.
Burke hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “You have something special in mind?” he asked.
“Just a few words,” she said. Burke moved aside as she stepped inches from Ibrahim, studying him. He was clearly frightened, bottled up even. She understood his predicament. If he talked, the terrorists would kill him. If he didn’t, the Outlaws would. The important thing was to try to reach him somehow, convince him that Asgar’s cause was lost. That there was still hope for Ibrahim’s life if he would only cooperate. Though she knew any such approach held extreme challenges when dealing with the mind of a jihadist.
“Listen to me, Ibrahim,” she said. “Everyone here wants you dead, despite what you may or may not know. Your leader had my husband murdered. The very man you pledge allegiance to cut his throat for no reason.” She paused and took a step even closer as his nervous eyes shifted. “Maybe you were there. Maybe you saw it yourself. Doug didn’t know Salah Asgar. He wasn’t a part of any cause, but Asgar killed him, nonetheless.”
She placed both hands on Ibrahim’s shoulders to the confusion of the surrounding group. “Let me avenge my husband’s death. It’s all I want. Does that not sound fair? I just want the chance. If Asgar wins, so be it. Can we not just let Allah’s will decide?”
She removed her hands and stepped back. “Asgar wants this fight. We’ve caused so much trouble for him, that I can’t think he’d want more than anything to face us.” She paused, waiting for Ibrahim to respond.
He looked at the ground, trying to gather his words. “I don’t know where he is,” he said. “Kill me if you must. There is nothing I can do to change that.”
A roar rippled through the crowd as the Outlaws geared up to pulverize their captive, but Angela wasn’t done yet. “It will not be an easy death. You will suffer for hours on end.” She stopped and then leaned closer, getting right in his face. “I can only hold them back for so long. These people want to tear you apart. And for what? Salah Asgar? Would he do the same for you? For any of your men?”
Ibrahim nodded and then launched into a diatribe all his own. “You really think you can scare me into talking?” He rotated his head, examining the crowd of vengeful faces surrounding him. “You think you have all the answers. I’m not concerned with this life. I serve Allah’s will so that I can go on to the next. That is my duty, and it is our duty as Muslims to deliver the caliphate to our enemies.”
His conviction seemed impenetrable, but Angela persisted. “If that’s the case, take us to Asgar and let us be slaughtered like the infidels we are.”
Ibrahim bowed his head, thinking to himself as Angela waited, both anxious and fearful of what he might say. After a long pause, he looked up and spoke, much to her relief. “He is not close. I can tell you that, and you are too late to stop him. He has a bomb so large that it will wipe out half of the country.”
Gasps of disbelief surged through the group. Burke nearly leapt forward to try to pound the details out of him, but Angela held him back. She listened intently as Ibrahim told them where they could find Asgar. He had taken refuge in a factory in Wichita, a good hundred miles away from their current location. She only hoped that he was telling the truth.
“Tell me more about this bomb,” she said. “Where did he get it?”
Ibrahim shrugged. “Same way they get everything else into the country. We smuggled it right across your border.”
“When does he plan to detonate this bomb?” Burke said, eyes wild. The fearful reality of their situation took control of the entire group. The power plant was worrisome enough. The bomb was a danger of apocalyptic proportions.
“In the event of an unsuccessful power plant attack, Asgar will detonate the bomb in its current location,” Ibrahim said. He then looked down and glanced at his digital wristwatch, continuing in a mocking tone. “Looks like it’s about that time.”
After a brief shocked pause, an enraged Hendrickson jumped forward and yanked Ibrahim back, pummeling him in the face as the other Outlaws cheered. Angela moved swiftly to intervene, trying to pull Hendrickson away, but his fists kept flying.
“You rotten son of a bitch!” he shouted, delivering blow after blow to Ibrahim’s face. “I’ll kill you right her
e!”
“No!” Angela shouted. From behind him, she swung her arms around Hendrickson’s back and pulled her hardest, but it did no good. When she let go, he was laughing.
Burke suddenly swooped in and locked his arm around Hendrickson’s throat in a chokehold. He pulled the gasping beast of a man away as the Outlaws murmured in disapproval. Angela dropped to her knees to help their battered captive as he groaned from the wet sand at the lake’s edge. She helped him up just as Burke released Hendrickson—who was dangerously irate.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Burke shouted to Hendrickson. “Did he give us an address yet? No he didn’t! You go beating on him, we get squat, and everyone dies!”
Hendrickson leaned down against his knees, gasping for air. “Fuck you…” he said in a raspy voice. He rose and walked out of the circle just as some Outlaws parted for him to pass. “Fuck all of you.”
Burke walked over to Angela and helped her lift Ibrahim up on his feet. “Is he okay?” he said.
“A bit dazed. Pretty banged up, but he should be okay,” she answered.
“He rides with us from now on,” Burke said. He then turned to the Outlaws, their eyes narrowed and fists balled. “Are we going to fight over this shit now, or are we going to stop this madman before he commits the greatest mass murder in American history?”
They didn’t respond, but Burke’s biting words seemed to simmer them down. “We go to Wichita tonight. Now. And we take this man down once and for all. It’s the only way.”
Angela continued to hold Ibrahim up with an arm around his shoulder as he wobbled and groaned.
“Who’s with us?” Burke said, looking around at the silent faces. “Damn it! Who’s with us?”
“I am,” Hendrickson said, reentering the circle. “We all are. So let’s move.”
