by Rick Jones
As Shari was being pulled away, Kimball could tell that she was being so against her will. She had her hand extended towards him the same way he reached for her, with their fingertips wiggling to touch each other from inches away.
. . . Shari! . . .
. . . Kimball! . . .
And with a power that was beyond their own, they were pulled apart.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Virginia Beach, Virginia
Najm’s watch buzzed as the alarm went off to indicate the moment of the explosion. “Congratulations, Mohammad,” he said, smiling victoriously. “It’s done. The final stroke of Allah’s sword has taken down the arena.”
Allawi simply nodded without a smile, wishing he could have been there to confirm this. But the dragnets were getting tighter and the risks were becoming greater. Though he looked in the direction hoping to see remnants of the explosion from the skiff that Najm piloted to the awaiting fishing vessel, he saw nothing, the venue obviously too far.
“You should be happy,” Najm said, reading Allawi’s stale features.
“I am, Najm. Believe me. I just wish that I was there to see this crowning achievement.”
“Allah has blessed you,” said Najm.
“He’s blessed us both.”
As the skiff continued to bounce off the crests towards the precise GPS coordinates, they discovered the fishing vessel five miles offshore.
“That’s it,” said Allawi.
Najm, making a slight maneuver, headed straight for the fishing boat. As soon as they pulled up to the vessel and moored the skiff to a cleat, a man of Cuban descent exited from underneath.
“Hola,” he said, waving. He was a small and pudgy-looking man with a heavy shadow of growth along his face, though it wasn’t quite a beard. He was wiping his hands with a rag. “You are the one sent by Aimu, yes?”
“We are,” said Allawi.
“Welcome aboard my vessel, the Mad Max.” And then: “Please, take a seat. We’ll be on our way shortly.”
“How shortly?” Allawi asked him. “It’s crucial that we leave here immediately.”
Then his eyes swept over the boat, an aged wreck by the looks of it from the chipped wood, the peeling paint, and the breakdown of equipment that looked essential. Nothing had the air of longevity to it, especially when they had a long journey to Cuba. “Is this thing even going to make it to Cuba?” he asked. “Yeah. Si. I was checking the engine. She looks fine.” Then: “Please. Sit. I’ll be back in a moment.” The small and pudgy man quickly disappeared below. Taking the seat, the deck smelled like dead fish as Allawi looked out at the sea. It was calm and balmy with caps of white froth showing along the breaking crests of the ocean’s tides. “Sometime tomorrow, Najm,” he began, “we begin a new life in a new land with the praises of new people. We will be gods amongst men who will surely be cast as the true vessels to Allah.”
“Hardly.” Two men exited from the lower cabin where the Cuban had just disappeared. In their hands were Glocks, with neither weapon suppressed. The man who made the comment was Caucasian, as was his partner, whose conservative haircuts and cleanly-shaven faces pegged them as special agents, most likely from a black-ops arm of the CIA or a deep-state organization.
When Allawi tried to stand, the first agent aimed his weapon at the terrorist and told him to remain seated. Slowly, Mohammad Allawi did as he was told and took his seat.
“Mohammad Allawi,” the agent said evenly. Then he pointed his weapon at Najm. “And the one they call Najm, the master of computer wizardry. It’s a shame you didn’t choose better. You would have been quite an asset to our agency.”
“Where’s Aimu?” Allawi asked.
“Oh, I’m afraid that he’s no longer a game player. In fact, Mr. Ababneh will not be much of a factor in anything he does . . . anymore.”
“You killed him?”
The agent remained quiet, his features stiff and unyielding as to what he was thinking.
Then the second agent said, “You failed, Allawi. I want you to know that. The explosives went off a few miles from Jackson-Hall and not a single person attending was injured. And your second run at Special Agent Cohen—well, that too was a failure. In fact, she was instrumental at defusing the operation you created. And because of her . . . Operation Herod was a complete and utter disaster. So, from President Burroughs to you . . . Checkmate.”
Leveling their pistols and taking direct aim, they pulled the triggers in quick succession. The loud reports carried over the waves of the ocean. But at five miles from the shoreline, no one would hear the gunshots.
Chapter Fifty-Six
The Oval Office, The White House
Washington, D.C.
“Thank you.” After hanging up the phone on the president’s desk after receiving a satellite call, Homeland Security Director Rupert Moncrief turned to the president, who was sitting anxiously behind the desk, and said, “It’s done. That was confirmation that Mohammad Allawi and Najm are forever out of the picture. I’ve also been assured that their bodies will never be located.”
The president nodded. “That’s good,” he said. “It’s finally over, then.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
The president turned to the people within his office. The only one missing from past conferences was FBI Director Johnston, who was apparently on scene in National Harbor. Then: “Contact the media,” he told them. “And inform them that Mohammad Allawi and his cell have been taken down. And that the country is safe. I now need to spin this storyline in any way that sounds positive.”
“Yes, Mr. President.” This came from his top and most trusted aide.
Then to the others, Burroughs added, “I will speak to the nation directly from my desk. Have the network crews here within the hour.”
When the principals left the Oval Office, President Burroughs was left alone with the information he received about the explosion. Apparently, a priest removed the cargo safely from the venue, though little else was known about what happened to him. FBI Director Johnston and Shari Cohen, as he understood it, were key players. How Shari became a part of the equation after he strictly forbade her to commit herself due to fears of compromising the project, he would take that up with the director at a later date. But for now, he felt a calm knowing that the country would begin to rise from the ashes and heal. If nothing else, he considered, Lady Liberty was resilient. It may take weeks, maybe months or years, but she will one day stand tall and erect, like she always had.
As he waited for the news crew to assemble, he couldn’t help the light smile that crept along his face.
Checkmate, he thought.
. . . Checkmate . . .
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Kimball Hayden was in the rear of the ambulance wearing an oxygen mask. And Shari was allowed by EMT staff to ride with him to keep him alert. Holding his hand, she spoke to him and made sure that his eyes kept moving. His legs had been situated in air casts. And his left arm, which was covered with third-degree burns with the charred skin cracked to show the cooked meat underneath the surface, had been stabilized.
“Stay with me,” she told him.
His eyes locked onto hers. Beneath the mask, she could see his grin.
Eye to eye, smile to smile, they connected at that moment, an umbilical tie of absolute wonderfulness.
Then Kimball’s eyes started to roll upward until they became slivers of white, the man suddenly convulsing into seizures.
“His blood pressure is dropping,” an EMT yelled. “We’re losing him!”
“Kimball!” It was Shari. “You stay with me, you hear me? Don’t you leave me! Not now! You come back!”
“. . . YOU COME BACK! . . .”
“. . . PLEEEEEEASE . . . COME BACK! . . .”
Epilogue
Kimball Hayden was standing within the hollowed Darkness of a long tunnel. At the far end was a small square of incredible brightness, perhaps a gateway that led to the Valley of Ethereal Light, or maybe i
t was simply an opening that allowed a simple splash of sunlight. In time it began to grow, the light getting as bright as a thousand suns, though it was pleasant to his eyes, it was both warm and comforting.
In its own way it seemed to call and beckon to him, the invitation filled with the everlasting promise of peace.
Behind him, in the Darkness, he could hear the voice of the woman he loved.
Kimball! . . . You stay with me, you hear me? . . . Don’t you leave me! Not now! . .
.You come back!
. . . PLEEEEEEASE . . . COME BACK! . . .
The pull of the Ethereal Light.
The voice of the woman he loved.
The pull of the Light.
The voice of the woman.
The pull.
The voice.
In the end, Kimball Hayden was good with his decision.
THE END
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Epilogue
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Epilogue
