All Eyez on Gunz

by Warren Holloway

  It was time to go to my stash house to pay these niggas for their thugged-out services.

  It didn’t take long before we made it to my spot. I jumped out of the whip and knocked on the door. Shari better answer this door, I thought as I waited. I had Turnpike Tito’s $600,000, King Jose’s 750 stacks, and product left. There were fifty kilos to be exact.

  She opened the door shocked to see me, since I wasn’t supposed to be out.

  “Tommy, what are you doing here?” she asked in disbelief.

  I walked right past her and down to the basement.

  “I can’t really explain right now, but I got to hurry up.” I moved the dryer to expose the safe in the wall. I had that shit custom built. Although that shit looked like a brick wall, it was my safe. I grabbed six vacuum-sealed bags containing $100,000 each. Then I put everything back as it was before taking a pillowcase to put the money in. I went back upstairs with Shari. She came up to me and began kissing and hugging on me.

  “I love you, Tommy.”

  “I know, but I can’t stay right now. Shit’s crazy, but I’ll call you in a few days,” I said, kissing her soft lips.

  “Be safe and know me and your sons love you.”

  “I’ll send for you. Just be patient and let me get grounded,” I said. She knows how I live.

  I ran back out to the truck and jumped in, pulling out four of the vacuum-sealed bags. They all became excited since they had never seen this amount of money before.

  “This is for you and your team. I got love and respect for all of y’all,” I said. “Take me to the bus station, so I can get out of this city,” I added.

  “Damn, we hood rich, hermanos,” Angel said, tearing open the bag of money and fanning the $100 bills. “We going to get plenty of señoritas with this cash,” he added.

  It was exactly noon when the fake agent’s cell phone rang. I knew it was Rakman, so I had Rico and his team quiet down for a second.

  “Hold up, y’all. It’s this muthafucka that tried to take me out,” I said before pressing the Accept button. “Hello, you stupid muthafucka.” He was shocked to hear my voice and tone. “Your fake-ass Fed friends are dead just like you would be if I had the time,” I said.

  “You idiot! You caused me a lot of money and disrupted what we have going on.”

  “Fuck you and your money. If I had more time, I would track you down and blow your fucking brains out. But God and bad timing are on your side right now,” I said, hanging up the phone and not allowing him to get in another word. Besides, it’s time to get out of this city before it’s too late.

  I got Rico’s info, so I could reach out to him when I got situated. Then he dropped me off, so I could leave the city. I didn’t know where to, but I needed to go somewhere and stay low for a long while.

  CHAPTER 26

  AT 12:30 P.M. RAKMAN’S Arab goons arrived on the I-83 bridge to secure Amir. Amir saw his Muslim brothers jump out of the truck and rush over to the van. Another van followed behind for back up.

  “As-salamu alaykum, Amir.”

  “May peace unto you, my brothers. Is everything going as planned?” he asked.

  “It’s going even better now that you’re in the picture. Allah is great.”

  “Good, very good. We will have all that we please and see one another in the end in paradise.”

  The cell phone chimed in, getting their attention. It was Rakman calling his soldier’s phone to check on the status of his cousin. The Arab man passed the phone to Amir.

  “It’s Rakman.”

  “Allah knows best, and I am grateful for you and him,” Amir said to his cousin.

  “I did what you would have done for me.”

  “What is our next move?” Amir asked, getting back to business, knowing that time was not on their side with the FBI probably tailing him.

  “All of our men are in place. I tried to have that black drug dealer brought to us, but to no avail. He has luck on his side.”

  “His time will come. Right now, we can’t lose focus. I’ll have these men set back up at the capitol or another location to make sure all is done,” he said upon ending the call.

  The van following Amir for backup radioed to make him aware that they were being followed by way of chopper. Amir looked up and saw the helicopter. Even though it was so high, they blew their cover. At the same time, he called his cousin back to let him know he was being followed.

  “What’s going on?” Rakman asked, knowing a return call this fast was not good news.

  “These stupid Americans have a helicopter following us. I’ll have these men take me to the airport. I have something planned,” he said, looking around to see if any vehicles were also being discrete and trying to follow. They were, but he did not notice them just yet.

  “Should we arm the explosives?” the Arab soldier asked.

  “Yes, we must stay ready to carry out this mission. Allah will lead the way.”

  As Amir and his men prepared for the end, back at the FBI headquarters, Jack Ross was stressing to his agents in the chopper not to lose sight of the van.

  “Keep that van close. We need to take him and his cousin down to bring this shit to an end,” he said before he turned to Agent Smith. “Smith, get your men ready to take down these scums.”

  “Yes, sir, we got this!” Agent Smith said as he and Agent Anderson gathered men to leave.

  There was now a total of sixteen agents in four Suburban trucks. Agent Johnson stayed back to help Director Ross track down Rakman’s cell phone signal. Jack Ross had his best guys working on the this.

  “Sir, I got it,” one of the specialists yelled out, referring to Rakman’s cell signal.

  Jack and Agent Johnson rushed over and wanted to know where he was located.

  “What do you have?” Jack asked.

  “I triangulated his position pinging off the cell towers here and here.”

  “Hold up! So, what does this tell me? I want to know his exact location,” Jack said with urgency, knowing they were up against time.

  “I got it, sir. I was getting to that,” he responded as Agent Johnson gathered his men to leave.

  Amir was approaching the airport when his cousin called.

  “We have a change of plans,” Amir said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Americans are playing their games and following us in the helicopter. Now I’m going to the airport with a new destination for the end.”

  Rakman really could feel the end coming near for him and his cousin.

  “Allah will guide us to the end. I’ll see you in paradise, Amir.”

  “Allah u Akbar.”

  The call ended as the seriousness of the end set in as the vans came onto the HIA property.

  “Go to the main terminals,” Amir directed his men.

  There, the men discussed what their intent was going to be as well as everyone’s target. Amir was now strategically thinking. As the van stopped, they were all in conversation ready to move out, until an airport officer knocked on the window. At the same time, the agents in the helicopter saw them parked by the main entrance. They realized that the van might also be equipped with explosives. They radioed Agent Smith to make him aware of their location, since he and his team were only minutes away.

  Seeing the officer at his window spiked Amir’s heart, making it race fast. Is this it? Should I kill him and everyone around? he thought, before rolling down the windows.

  “What’s the problem, officer?”

  “You can’t park here. This area is for drop-offs only.”

  “We got sidetracked. We’ll move now,” he responded.

  The officer made his way back to the other van to tell him the same thing. When he tapped on the van’s window, his eyes roamed to the back of the van where he saw some movement. An Arab man was loading a fully automatic assault rifle.

  Immediately, the officer’s mind and heart raced as he took a step back and reached for his sidearm, taking it from the holster. In
that same moment, the Arab man in the passenger seat took his Glock .40mm and fired off two rounds that spit fire and hot melting slugs into the officer’s face, twisting his head as the brains ejected through his skull. As his body was falling, everyone in the area became alerted by the roaring of the gun, which caused them to run frantically and take cover. In the same instance, the other Arab men exited the van with guns in hand at the ready, especially after seeing multiple airport police approaching fast with their guns out. Bullets slammed into the cars around them as well as the officers.

  Amir saw that officers were wearing bullet-proof vests, because he shot a few of them center mass, only for them to pop back up and shoot back at him.

  “Take all head shots. They’re wearing vests!”

  Agent Smith and his team closed in on the airport fast after hearing about the gunfight. They were practically in the middle of the situation as they came upon the property.

  Amir saw the Feds arrive, so he yelled, “Keep them at bay!”

  Amir jumped back into the van and took hold of the detonator in one hand and the steering wheel in the other. He then mashed the gas and raced to war to the airstrip where planes were loading passengers.

  The FBI knew there were enough explosives to take out a few planes if detonated, especially if they had the same amount as the previous explosion site.

  Agent Smith drove fast and ran over one of the Arab men in the process of going through the barrage of bullets. His focus was on Amir in the van. He could not let him get away or detonate the explosives. The other Arab men continued fighting with the airport police and other agents. A grenade was tossed by one of the Arab goons that slid under one of the agent’s truck, causing the truck to lift up and slam down hard from the explosion. At the same time, an agent ended up dead, with a few injured from the shrapnel.

  After the eruption from the grenade settled, the remaining agents returned fire and took out three of the Arab men with military precision, center mass, piercing their hearts and dropping them in the midst of their actions. The last of the Arab men ran toward the cargo van, where the detonator for the C-4 was inside. He figured if he could get to it, he could set it off. But those thoughts came to a halt as slugs chased him down, crashing into his legs and back while thrusting up against the van before he slid down to the ground land lay wounded on his stomach.

  The agents closed in fast when they saw the man struggling to breathe and speak at the same time. They turned him over, only to discover a grenade in his hand with the pin already out of it. As they yelled out a warning, they also tried to retreat, but it was too late. The grenade exploded, blowing the agents back with hot shards of metal and tearing away at their flesh. The explosion took their lives before their bodies even hit the ground. The Arab man’s body was in pieces because he took the brunt of the blast. His arm was on the roof of the van while the other parts of his body spread out.

  Agent Smith was hurt but knew he did not have time to stop. He needed to get Amir before any more lives were taken. The chopper kept Agent Smith updated on Amir’s location and allowed him to close in on the van he was in. Amir was parked in between two 747 Boeing passenger planes with hundreds of civilians on them.

  He held the detonator in his hand knowing the end was near.

  The FBI closed in on the van and surrounded him while the chopper’s sniper was already looking through his scope with a clean line of sight. He was ready on the orders to take out the suspect.

  “Agent Smith, I have eyes on the target. He has the detonator in his hand,” the sniper said.

  “Keep him locked in and take him out if he looks to be making any sudden moves. I’m going to try to talk him out of this,” he said as he got out of the truck with hands up and no gun, just his vest on.

  “Amir Hussein, let’s talk about what it is you and your cousin want!” he yelled out, taking steps closer and closer.

  His heart started beating fast up against his chest as he realized what he was getting himself into. This crazy son of a bitch could easily detonate the bomb, taking him out as well as the passengers on the planes. This would be bad, but Agent Smith was willing to take a chance and talk him down to get some resolve.

  Agent Smith’s forehead was sweating as he made eye contact with Amir. His dark stare was full of death. Right then he could see that this guy was not about to be talked down. As these thoughts entered his mind, Amir rolled down the window and unleashed multiple rounds into Agent Smith’s body, which thrust him back and briefly sucked the air from his lungs. His body crashed to the ground and knocked the air back into his lungs.

  At the same time, Amir got out of the van and yelled, “You Americans will feel the wrath of Allah! Allah u Akbar!”

  Before he could press the button on the detonator, the sniper squeezed the trigger and sent a .50 caliber slug through the air, crashing into his head and clearing all thoughts of terrorizing this country forever as his skull erupted and displayed a pink mist of skull and brain matter. His body was left with no reflex other than to fall to the ground lifeless. Multiple agents and airport officers rushed in to see if Agent Smith was all right.

  “You okay?” they asked as he was getting up.

  “The wind got knocked out of me, and I’ll have a few bruises to talk about, but I’m fine. We got that piece of shit and stopped him from killing anyone else,” he said, before looking up at the chopper and giving the sniper a thumbs-up for a good shot. A shot that was necessary to save many people’s lives.

  CHAPTER 27

  OVER AT FBI HEADQUARTERS, Agent Johnson was awaiting a call from Rakman. He figured he would call since the news was releasing coverage of what was going on over at the airport. It didn’t take long before he called in and wanted answers and revenge for his cousin’s demise.

  “Agent Johnson speaking, how can I help you?”

  “You can’t help, so put your boss, Jack Ross, on now!” Rakman demanded. Johnson passed over the phone quickly. He wanted to know what his next move was going be. “Ross here.”

  “Your men followed my cousin. What is wrong with you people?”

  “Nothing is wrong. No one is following your cousin, because he’s dead,” Jack said, not really wanting him to know much.

  But it slipped because of how fed up he was becoming with this terrorist scum.

  “You are so stupid to risk the lives of thousands just to capture one man. How much sense does this make to you?” Rakman yelled.

  He was beyond pissed that his cousin was unable to fulfill his destiny, but he planned on going through with his acts of terror.

  “This country will pay with the blood of thousands, and it will all be on your hands!” he threatened, before he hung up fast, ready to get things done before he too was stopped.

  “Agent Johnson, I got him! He’s at 1600 Baboli Drive. It’s the old Frito-Lay warehouse,” the tech said, excited about tracking down the cell signal.

  Agent Johnson took a team to that address. They were ready to take him down. Meanwhile, Jack Ross was standing there thinking about the agent and civilian lives that were lost today.

  “Keep track of that cell phone signal’s movement in case he leaves,” Jack Ross said.

  “I’m already on it, sir.”

  Rakman and his team were readying to leave the warehouse. He knew his time was limited. He couldn’t trust being at any of his properties or his associates’ properties because the FBI was coming hard and fast. He was not trying to stick around for that. He tossed his cell phone on the desk in the office. He had another that he had not used. It was also a burner phone.

  Rakman got into his S600 Mercedes Benz, a car he kept at the warehouse for moments like this. It was also where he kept the backup cell phone. He had to be calculated in this business, thinking ahead and having plans A through C. It was something he learned when dealing with his connected associates in powerful places.

  As he drove off, he made a call to his soldiers he had in place. He wanted them to know to carry on
with the plan if they did not hear from him. The Arab men were in a new all-black cargo van with decals on it.

  At 3:00 p.m., the city’s baseball team, the Senators, was playing in a packed stadium in City Island. There were more than five thousand fans cheering on their team. However, it was also the same place where the terrorists were, but they came to cheer in the name of Allah by way of Rakman Hussein, the face of evil and death.

  The vans fit right in with the Senators’ logos on the outside. Each van was parked close to the stadium to maximize the impact of the explosions. If they did it at the same time, it would level the stadium and kill everyone inside. A large enough explosion would perhaps even blow a deep enough hole into the island to cause the water beneath to come through.

  At 3:20 p.m. Agent Johnson and his team of agents stormed Rakman’s warehouse ready to take him down, but they found nothing. No one was in sight. He did take notice that the warehouse was outfitted to make signs and decals, so that explained how it was so easy for them to get through secured areas.

  “Be alert, men. We don’t want another incident like before,” Agent Johnson said, referring to the previous warehouse with the men inside the office.

  The agents fanned out and looked for people as well as information that would lead them to Rakman.

  Agent Johnson called it in, since no one was in sight.

  “Jack Ross here.”

  “Sir, we didn’t find anyone here. He must have left sooner than we thought.”

  “I’m looking at the screen, and it’s showing the cell signal is still coming from inside the warehouse.”

  “Be careful, men, his cell signal is still showing its presence here,” Agent Johnson made his men aware. “All right, sir, I’ll get back to you if we come across him or something leading to him,” he said, ending the call to focus on sweeping the warehouse.

  The agents closed in on an office at the back of the warehouse. They entered with caution, not wanting to be ambushed as were the previous agents at the last warehouse. There were many windows in the office, which allowed the agents to glimpse through, yet they found nothing. There was no one inside. The agents decided to go inside the office, where they found the cell phone sitting on the desk.