All Eyez on Gunz

by Warren Holloway

  After the call, the governor called for his head of secret service. He came to his room within seconds.

  “How can I help you, sir?” the agent asked.

  “The FBI director just called. We’re on high terror alert. I need you and your men to do a sweep of the parameter. Anything that doesn’t look right, I want to know about it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  At 12:15 a.m. the governor’s secret service did as he had requested them by taking out the men and dogs. The dogs were barking loud and echoing through the silent streets.

  As they were walking up the side street approaching 2nd Street, the dogs continued barking loud as they closed in on the white cargo van, awaking the Arab man inside. He was one of Rakman’s soldiers.

  He opened his eyes and realized the sound of dogs meant someone else was also there, meaning secret service. They hadn’t paid him any attention before because the van had fake government tags and decals. He was lying there with his 9mm in one hand and the detonator in the other hand. There was enough C-4 to level the mansion if he were closer, which he planned on doing when given the orders from Rakman.

  “Allah u Akbar,” he whispered, now feeling the end coming with each barking sound coming from the dogs.

  His heart was racing fast until he realized they were passing by as the sounds of dogs barking dissipated. He closed his eyes and drifted back off to sleep for now.

  At 12:45 a.m. the FBI agents were preparing to take Amir to York County Prison to be held without bail and high-level supervision, and with no phone calls or visitors. He was now a risk to national security. So, there was no chance he would contact anyone else to make any moves that would terrorize the country. That mistake was made with other acts of terror, and they wouldn’t make the same mistake.

  By 1:00 a.m., after a long day and even longer time interrogating Tommy Guns, the agents were bringing the show to an end, until Agent Johnson came back into the room with pictures of Rakman Hussein. Seeing the pictures alerted Tommy. His eyes widened a little, which was enough to let them know he recognized him.

  “I take it he looks familiar to you?”

  “I don’t know that muthafucka either. So y’all done here or what?”

  “We know there is a connection between you and them. He’s Amir’s cousin. So, you know they’re planning an act of terror, and you’re telling us you don’t know anything. But Amir Hussein just conveniently wanted you dead?”

  “The wrong people get shot at all of the time. That’s life in the city for you,” Tommy responded.

  What else could he say? The Feds pretty much had the answers they wanted, he figured. Besides, being a rat wasn’t his style.

  The FBI already ran all known associates of Amir, which is how they found Rakman and other associates. It was also how they located all of his businesses and warehouses.

  The agents let Tommy go back to his cell at 1:15 a.m. while they prepared to raid Rakman’s properties. This was serious and needed to be taken care of.

  CHAPTER 21

  AT 1:45 A.M. A slew of FBI agents stormed Rakman’s house and warehouse on Industrial Road. His home in the Forest Hills Estates of Harrisburg was worth more than $1,000,000, boasting over seven thousand square feet. Although it was a large house to look through, these agents were looking forward to it. They started going through all of his computers looking for a trail of evidence that might give some hint as to what they were planning to terrorize. One of the agents came across a map with locations circled; the first was in Middletown while the other locations were bunched together across Harrisburg. The agent immediately got the attention of the others, who were all frantically searching.

  “Hey, guys, what do you think these circled locations represent?” Agent Smith asked.

  “The three locations in the city could be the capitol, or it also could be the mansion. That’s the only government establishments that crossed my mind,” Agent Charles said, offering up his opinion.

  “You might be right. The third circle here in Middletown could be Three Mile Island. If so, this is not good for the surrounding cities,” Agent Smith said while reaching for his cell phone to call TMI and Harrisburg International Airport (HIA).

  He made them aware of what he had discovered so they would be on alert. He also told them to keep a low profile with this info, so they wouldn’t scare anyone off.

  As they continued to look through the house, they discovered a phone number that had Dauphin County Prison written at the top of it. His heart started beating faster, realizing what had taken place with the convoy. Seeing the name on the paper also confirmed to them that there was an inside man, captain Faris Mohamad. The agent quickly made the others aware of this newfound information.

  While the agents at Rakman’s house continued to search, other agents did the same over at his warehouse on Industrial Road. It didn’t take long before they discovered bomb paraphernalia, wiring, casings, dynamite, nails, and pipes they chose not to use. Upon finding this, Agent Johnson signaled the others to make them aware of it.

  “This is obviously where everything was put together. Now we need to find out where they took it from here. Fan out and see what else we can find that’ll point in the direction they may be going.”

  “Hey, guys, over here!” the rookie agent yelled out.

  They all rushed over to where the agent’s voice came from. As they closed in, it was obvious what he was calling out for. There lay a body saturated in blood due to the bullets that riddled his body. Agent Johnson recognized his face. It was captain Faris Mohamad from the prison.

  “Continue searching while I call Agent Smith.”

  “Agent Smith here.”

  “Smith, this is Johnson. I have your boy Faris Mohamad here.”

  “Good, hold him until I get there.”

  “I don’t think he’s in any hurry to meet you. Someone filled him up with bullets.”

  “So, they killed him to cover their tracks because there is evidence here linking him to the prison, which clearly was our leak,” Agent Smith said. “If anything, else comes up, let me know.”

  As the call ended, another agent’s voiced boomed through the air.

  “Sir, over here! I think I got something worth looking at.”

  The agents all moved in with their guns drawn, just in case something else came at them as they approach to see what the agent discovered. Once they came into the aisle where he stood, they lowered their weapons. They found fake license plates, decals to government jobs, and more.

  “These men are going to easily pass as government officials without question. Not good,” Agent Johnson said, after realizing these explosives would be smuggled into areas full of politicians.

  He called Agent Smith and made him aware of what he had found out. They both knew that director Jack Ross would have to be informed of this.

  Jack Ross was in the midst of falling asleep again at 2:45 a.m. when his phone sounded off. He came out of the little sleep he was trying to get. At the same time, his heart was racing, knowing a call at this hour meant something else was wrong.

  “Jack Ross speaking.”

  “Sir, this is Agent Smith from the Harrisburg office again. Sorry to wake you, but we came across more intel about this terror plot.”

  Hearing this only meant Jack needed to get out of bed, because sleep was not going to happen now.

  “Tell me what you discovered,” Jack said.

  “Washington is a distraction from what they’re planning, sir. From the map we found at Rakman’s home along with the bomb leftovers we came across, it all points to this city.”

  “So the places circled on the map, have you found those locations? More important, have these places been informed?”

  “We’re handling this as we speak. The targets, to my knowledge, are TMI or HIA. There are others in the city, but we figure with the fake uniforms and government tags they’ll target our capitol here and/or the governor’s mansion.”

  Hearing this was eve
n more shocking and disturbing than Jack expected.

  “Three Mile Island is already secured unless they find a way in, and we cannot allow that to happen,” he paused while getting out of the bed and grabbing his pants. “Jesus, TMI! That would be a nuclear disaster. Thank you and your men for doing a good job. Now we have to stop this terrorist attack before it happens. Call me with any other leads or updates,” Jack said before hanging up the phone.

  His nerves were getting the best of him as he feared the worst.

  By 3:00 a.m. Agent Johnson and his men approached an office inside the warehouse to see if they could find out anything more about Rakman and his men. As the agent closed in on the door, a sudden blast of gunfire erupted. The noise alerted all agents at the same time the slugs came through the door and crashed into the agent’s chest, forcing him off his feet and thrusting him backward.

  The other agents instantly returned fire into the office where two Arab men found themselves barricaded.

  The Arab men killed Mohamad as ordered, and then they awaited further instructions. In the process they fell asleep until the voices of the agents woke them up. Now they were cornered with AK-47s, ready to die but also kill as many Americans as they could.

  The Arab goon tossed a grenade through the office window which landed by multiple agents.

  “Grenade!” the agents yelled.

  Suddenly the explosion became deafening as the blast spread fast, with shrapnel immediately killing three agents and wounding the others in close proximity. The blast turned up the heightened awareness of the agents as their adrenaline streamed through their bodies.

  The gunfire continued until the agents stopped to reload. At the same time, the Arab men flipped their clips around to have a fully stocked fifty magazine in their AK-47s.

  “Come out with your hands up!” Agent Johnson yelled. “No one else has to die. You come out now, and you don’t have to end up like your friend.”

  “You Americans are stupid! We will all be dead before the night ends, just like that piece of shit you found in the warehouse!”

  “It doesn’t have to be this way!”

  They didn’t respond; however, the agents could hear the AK-47s being loaded and slugs being chambered. Agent Johnson signaled his men to close in but keep a tight parameter. As the men closed in, a voice came out of the room.

  “I am coming out, don’t shoot!”

  No one responded because all of the agents knew something was wrong with the sudden change of heart. This only made them even more alert.

  The door cracked open as the Arab man was peeking out. “Don’t shoot; I come out.”

  There was no response from the agents as they were too focused on the Arabs’ next move.

  The door opened all the way as he stood there with his hands behind his head along with a sadistic smirk on his face. The agents still didn’t trust him, and they wouldn’t until he was in handcuffs. He took a few steps out of the room and made his way toward the agents in front of him. At that moment, the other agents on the right and left side of the door, roughly ten to fifteen feet away, noticed his hands were not interlocked behind his head. He was holding a grenade.

  “Grenade!” the agents all yelled in unison.

  At the same time the Arab was about to toss the grenade at the agents, the other Arab came charging out of the room spraying the AK-47. However, he was met with a barrage of bullets that sucked the life from him and his friend. Their bodies fell to the floor with no more hope of terrorizing anyone else in this world. The agents rushed in over the two Arab men and pumped them with more gunfire. Their faces were disfigured from the slugs that took chunks of their flesh and bones away.

  “Pieces of shit! They deserve the death that came to them!” one of the agents said while spitting on their bodies.

  CHAPTER 22

  IT WAS 4:00 A.M., and Jack Ross just finished up with all the calls he needed to make to the government officials in Washington, DC. They also needed to be informed of what was going on so they, too, could be secure in the buildings they were in.

  After the calls, he started preparing to meet up with the agents in Harrisburg, when his wife woke from all of the movement in the house.

  “Honey, how long do you think you’ll be gone for?” she asked, knowing his job took him out of town quite often.

  “I really don’t know this time; however, I will stay in touch because of the girls’ birthday,” he said, knowing his twin daughters would be upset if he couldn’t make it to their sweet sixteen.

  “Be safe and know the girls and I love you.”

  “That’s enough love to come back home to, babe,” he responded, leaning in to give her a kiss before leaving the room.

  He knew that this national security matter was urgent and needed his attention now, so he would use the FBI’s jet to get to Harrisburg. This would give him the much-needed time to think and focus, so he could approach the situation strategically.

  ~ ~ ~

  At 5:00 a.m. Rakman was preparing to make salat with his followers before they continued on with the events of the day that would get America’s attention. The mood was beyond serious. These men were mentally, emotionally, and physically committed to the end game they had planned.

  Rakman knew he couldn’t stay here long because of the surrounding events that had taken place thus far. The FBI would also target this location once they figured he was the owner.

  At 6:00 a.m. Rakman decided to make a call to the FBI Headquarters in Harrisburg using a secured phone that would scramble any attempt to trace his location. This equipment came from one of his good associates that worked in higher-level government. The phone’s signal would lead them astray by bouncing off multiple cell towers.

  “Agent Anderson speaking, how may I help you?”

  “This is Rakman Hussein. By now you may have ravished every one of the properties I have, but that is not why I am calling,” he began as Agent Anderson waved to the others in the room to get their attention to the call. “If my cousin is not released in the hour and placed on a plane by himself out of this country, I will set my first example.”

  Agent Anderson tried to negotiate, but the call ended abruptly. Rakman knew he only had two minutes tops per call.

  The FBI was now at odds at having to figure out what their next move would be, since America was not one for negotiating with anyone, let alone terrorists.

  Back at his location, Rakman was now ready to leave and move his plan forward.

  “Allah will lead you to paradise as long as you do not stray from His plans,” Rakman said to his soldier leaving him to go as discussed.

  “As-salamu alaykum, brother.”

  “Walaikum assalam, and may Allah be with you in your final moment,” Rakman said while exiting with the other soldier.

  They left in the all-black cargo van with new decals on it as they headed to their destination.

  ~ ~ ~

  At 6:45 a.m. Governor Rendell and his wife were preparing to leave the mansion to a more secure and unknown location. But first the secret service was doing a parameter check to make sure no one was waiting to take them out.

  With the newfound information of fake decals being used, the secret service called in on a van they took notice of earlier that night. After running the tags and checking the log for maintenance, nothing was on file for these fraudulent tags and decals. Right then they all became alert and closed in on the van. The first of the four secret service agents closed in on the driver’s side door, after noticing that the keys were still in the ignition, but the door was locked.

  He signaled to the others to let them know the situation. Another secret service member came up on the van’s back doors and looked through the window, where he immediately noticed that someone was inside asleep.

  “Sir, are you okay in there?” he asked while knocking on the window to wake the Arab man who was in a deep sleep.

  As the Arab man opened his eyes, he immediately felt that he was busted by th
e dogs sniffing him out since they were barking earlier. Suddenly he took hold of his 9mm and fired off shots, catching the secret service agents off guard. They instantly took cover before returning a burst of fire. In between shots being fired, they could hear the man inside the truck speaking Arabic and shouting out in between firing at the agents.

  “Come out with your hands up! There is no way out of this situation!” the agents yelled out.

  “Allah is the way out of this situation!” he sounded off, reloading his weapon to continue firing back at the agents.

  “Go around to the front to see if you can get a better shot at this guy,” the secret service agent told his partner.

  He did just that, and he ran around to the front of the van looking through the front of the window and seeing his target. He took aim and fired off two back-to-back shots that raced through the air into the van, pounding into the flesh of the Arab man and piercing his lung. The hit caused him to drop his gun as he was reaching for his chest. His eyes widened in panic from the sudden blow from the bullets sucking the air from his lungs. This was the end, he thought, so he grabbed the detonator that armed the C-4 explosives and then placed his thumb on the button as he made his final prayer to Allah.

  The agents closed in, shattering the windows on the van while unlocking the front doors. The Arab man could hear them closing in, so he closed his eyes and forced these words from his mouth, “Allah knows best.”

  At that very moment, he pressed the button which unleashed death on all of those agents present. The blast roared and erupted, engulfing everything in its path. The sound wave shattered the windows of the houses around it and shook all the vehicles within a block’s range and caused their alarms to go off. The explosion also left a hole in the ground where the van continued to burn. Fire hydrants erupted and sprayed water with force into the air. The sound of the explosion could be heard for a mile in radius.

  On the other side of the mansion, the governor and his family were being driven away in a bullet-proof limo to a secured location. As the limo drove down Front Street, the governor looked back and could see smoke in the air. At the same time, he could hear the fire trucks blaring their sirens as they rushed toward the scene.