The Watchman of Ephraim (Book Club Edition)

by Gerard de Marigny

  Ahiga stared at the parachutes hanging from all of the chairs behind the cockpit.

  “So, they’re gonna rig that thing and bail out and we’re supposed to what … be martyrs, fly it over Vegas and blow ourselves to heaven, for our 12 virgins?”

  Santappia smiled at Ahiga.

  “Something like that ...”

  “You keep saying that, Charley. Tell me some good news, would ya!”

  “Alright, take a look at this mark on the chart. It’s right on the plot to Las Vegas. I calculate it to be just about an hour away from here. I think that’s the location where they’re gonna bail out. That means we’ll have the plane to ourselves after they jump for about 30 minutes.”

  Ahiga face lit up with hope but he saw that Santappia’s didn’t.

  “Okay, so what’s the bad news, Charley?”

  “The bad news is … if my calculations are correct and if they’re planning to parachute out at that location …that’s about 100 miles southeast of Vegas … that would mean they’re probably rigging the device with a 30-minute fuse.”

  “So, isn’t that enough time for us to put down somewhere?”

  “Sure, we can put down somewhere, but what then? Even if we could get away, that bomb will go off wherever we land.”

  Ahiga’s look of hope turned back to concern.

  “Tell me you have a plan, Charley!”

  “They look like they’re gonna jump out somewhere south of Kingman, AZ. I have no idea if they’ll keep an eye on us or if they have the ability to detonate the bomb if they see us veer off course. So, if we have to maintain course, at least until we’re out of their visual contact …that would put us smack between Bullhead City and Kingman. From there to Las Vegas, it looks like there’s nowhere remote enough for us to set down. All the remote areas are too rough and hilly.”

  Santappia spent more time studying the chart.

  The only thing I can think of is that we should be able to overfly Vegas then point this plane due north. Again, if my math is right, the plane will have just enough gas and the fuse will leave just enough time at maximum speed to fly the bomb maybe 25 or 30 miles north. I’ve been that far north of Vegas … it’s all fed land … test sites … about the best place I can think of to light up a nuke without anyone getting hurt.”

  “What about us?”

  “Well, they all can’t jump through that back door at the same time. I was thinking …maybe we can shoot the last two through the door then toss their bodies out as quickly as we can. Hopefully, the ones that jumped before them will think something went wrong with their chutes. Then we’ll use their chutes and bail out right after we clear the Las Vegas metropolitan area. I’ll set the plane on autopilot and we should still end up about 10 or 15 miles south of the blast point.”

  “Is that far enough? How powerful do you think that bomb is?”

  “I have no idea, Bryan. I’ve heard of reports that say a nuke of that size could be anywhere from 10 to 25 kilotons, depending on if they increase the efficiency of the bomb using deuterium and tritium. I think the primary blast radius would be somewhere around a couple of miles in any direction… and don’t ask me about fallout. All I could say is that with the jet stream moving west to east, there’s nothing east of there for 20 or 30 miles.”

  Ahiga looked down at the chart.

  “I guess we could radio out as soon as they jump and have them picked up. Also let them know what our plan is.”

  “My thinking, too … all we can do now is to wait until we reach their drop zone.”

  Chapter 36

  Aboard Piper PA31-350 Chieftain (F-WCCY)

  At 13,000 feet south of Kingman, AZ cruising at 207 mph

  2:30p.m., Sunday, September 11, 2011

  The six Russians in the back of the plane all stood in front of the back door wearing their parachutes. Oleg, their leader gave Santappia orders to descend to 13,000 feet and reduce speed to 180 knots. Once Santappia leveled off, they popped the door open. As they did, Shadow Wolf Agent Ahiga took his M-4 automatic rifle into his lap.

  The first three men jumped, leaving the leader and two of his men. As soon as the fourth man jumped, Ahiga sprung up from his chair and shot Oleg first, and then shot his man standing closer to the opened door. Oleg fell to the ground but the other man managed to get to the door. There was nothing Ahiga could do but watch, as the mortally wounded man let himself fall from the plane.

  “Charley, one got out!”

  Santappia switched the autopilot on.

  “Quick … Bryan, help me get this gorilla out of his parachute!”

  After removing the harness, they carried the dead man to the door and pushed him out. Struggling, Santappia managed to close the hatch.

  “What are we gonna do now, Charley, with only one chute?”

  Santappia didn’t answer right away. He sat back down at the controls, put the plane into a shallow climb and increased to maximum cruising speed.

  Standing in the aisle, Ahiga shouted his question again.

  “Charley, what do we do now?”

  “We … don’t do anything, Bryan. You’re gonna put that chute on and I’m going to contact Nellis.”

  Santappia started fiddling with the radio but Ahiga stopped him.

  “Charley, what the hell are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere without you. Can we both use that chute?”

  Santappia looked at Ahiga with the glare of a Marine drill sergeant who expected his orders to be obeyed without question.

  “No, we can’t. The chute’s made for one and the landing zone could be treacherous.”

  “Well, who’s to say that I jump—“

  “Bryan, listen to me. The part of my plan where I set the autopilot, never sat right with me. There are just too many innocent lives at stake. I think there’s a chance that if I fly the plane into the ground before the bomb detonates, maybe it won’t explode. And even if it does, the blast will partially be absorbed by the ground. That should make it less destructive.”

  “Then I’ll stay with you!”

  Santappia smiled.

  “I think Pescalitis was right when he called you Cochise. You’re a brave man, Bryan, for even getting on this plane with me. We both knew we might not be getting off, but as it is, there’s one chute and I’m the only pilot.”

  Ahiga didn’t reply. Santappia switched to a radio frequency. It took a few minutes but he reached the commander at Nellis AFB, a major general. After explaining the situation and then the general checking with his superiors in Washington, it was decided that Santappia’s plan was the best one, with one exception. Two F-15 Eagles were immediately scrambled to accompany the Piper Chieftain on a course that would take them east of greater Las Vegas.

  The two men didn’t speak to each other for the rest of journey to the northern edge of the Las Vegas metropolitan area. Santappia was in contact with the F-15 pilots while Ahiga slowly got into the parachute harness. Once they reached the northern rim of the Las Vegas valley, Santappia radioed that Agent Ahiga was about to bail out. The F-15 pilots replied that they were also breaking off their escort.

  Santappia set the autopilot and walked back to Ahiga.

  “It’s time, Bryan. Remember, count to 60 then pull the cord.”

  Before Santappia opened the back door, Ahiga stopped him and grabbed him by his shoulders.

  “Charley, an old Shawnee chief once said, ‘When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death … Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.’ You are a hero, my friend … so sing your death song!”

  Santappia grinned. The two men shook hands, then he opened the hatch and handed him a note. They had to shout to each other.

  “Would you see that this gets to my wife?”

  “I will!”

  “Take care, Bryan!”

  Ahiga jumped from the aircraft and as Santappia instructed him, he counted to 60 before pulling the cord, releasing his chute. It was his first t
ime sky diving but Santappia joked that Native Americans were natural sky divers, after all he said, “that’s why sky divers yell, Geronimo!” Once his chute opened he tried his best to look north to locate the plane, but he was too disoriented to find it.

  It took over five minutes for Ahiga to land. Just before he reached the ground, he saw an intense flash of light and soon after he was down, he felt the earth quake. After unfastening himself from the chute he stood in silence looking at the mushroom cloud rising in the north, marking the place of Charley Santappia’s sacrifice.

  Agent Ahiga got down on his knees, raised his arms to heaven and said a prayer to the Great Spirit. Let all those who have done this thing, be punished!

  Chapter 37

  The Offices of Zamani Import-Export Corporation

  Lower Midtown Manhattan, New York, New York

  6:30p.m., Sunday, September 11, 2011

  The large plasma screen TV was turned to the Fox News channel inside the Iranian businessman’s plush office. Aref Zamani and Bahman Fard were watching the newscast in utter disbelief. A reporter in Las Vegas was standing on a small hill, and behind him, the familiar mushroom cloud from a nuclear explosion was visible. Fard turned up the volume.

  “… again, we have just received word that a nuclear device has apparently detonated in a barren, unpopulated desert region just outside the United States federal test site, not far from the famous Area 51, north of Las Vegas.”

  Fard listened with shock and Zamani with rage as the reporter went on.

  “… There has been speculation that the explosion was most probably an accident that occurred while our military conducted some sort of covert test. While we still wait for the official cause, it is now believed that a nuclear warhead missed its mark and detonated outside the test range. Thankfully and so far miraculously, there are no reports of anyone being hurt but cities and towns east of the explosion are being evacuated in order to minimize exposure to the fallout. The President of the United States is scheduled to address the nation within the hour …”

  Fard used a remote to lower the volume on the TV in order to answer the phone. He spoke in an urgent tone, in Farsi, then hung up and turned to Zamani.

  “Sir, your jet is fueled and ready for takeoff at Teterboro. We should leave as soon as possible.”

  Zamani sat at his desk staring at the muted TV. His face was red with rage and his nostrils flared.

  Fard switched the TV off.

  “Sir, we really need to—“

  Zamani banged his fists on his desk.

  “STUPID INFIDELS … ALL OF THEM …! The Mexicans … the Russians … all non-believers …!”

  “But the pilots were our men?” Fard replied almost to himself.

  Zamani was silent for a moment as he tried to compose himself.

  “You’re right, Bahman, they were our men … but what could have gone wrong on that plane? They had to have flown clear over the City of Las Vegas to even get to where they detonated the bomb! It doesn’t make sense. When we get back to Tehran, I want to speak to Oleg … and why haven’t we heard from our men at De Niro’s ranch?”

  “I will arrange the call with the Russian as soon as we land. As for our men, they may not have wanted to contact us until they are safely away from the Las Vegas area … but sir we should leave here now, in case the Americans find anything that can tie us to Antioch.”

  Zamani cringed at the thought that he named this failed operation after such a successful battle for people of his faith.

  He nodded.

  “Okay, call downstairs for the car while I pack my briefcase.”

  Fard picked up the phone and hit the button that should have connected him with their men at the front desk, but no one answered.

  Zamani noticed his silence as he packed his case.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Fard hung up the phone and changed the input on the plasma screen to their security cameras, so they could see the front desk.

  “No one is answering downstairs.”

  Zamani walked over to a safe located behind a painting, hanging on the wall next to his desk. He dialed the combination and opened it.

  “Sir, look, no one is at the desk!

  Both men walked closer to the screen.

  “Bring up the camera outside the front entrance!”

  Fard hit a button on the remote and the screen turned to a wide-angle view of the outside of the building. Fard panned the camera left and right but both of the bodyguards that were supposed to be standing out there were also nowhere to be seen.

  His impatience showing, Zamani grabbed the remote out of Fard’s hands and switched to the bank of elevators on the ground floor. Another two of his men were supposed to be standing there, but again, no one was in view. Frantically, he switched to the cameras inside the elevators. Both men froze in their places as one of the cameras showed the bodies of all six of their men, piled on top of one another, in one of the elevators. When they looked closer, they saw that the elevator door was opened. Zamani panned the camera as much as he could. He and Fard panicked when they saw part of the Zamani Import-Export corporate logo emblazoned in the floor tiles outside the elevator door.

  “That’s on this floor!”

  Fard pulled his pistol from a shoulder holster concealed by his suit jacket and jumped in front of Zamani. He pushed his boss down behind his desk and carefully made his way next to the opened office door. He peered out, but the hall was empty. Then the lights went out on the whole floor. Zamani’s office was now lit only by the ambiance from the plasma screen and the Manhattan city lights bleeding in through the ceiling-to-floor windows behind Zamani’s desk.

  Fard waited a few moments but he didn’t hear a sound coming from outside the office. As quietly as he could, he poked his head out again, just enough to scan the hall.

  The last thing that Bahman Fard saw was the intense beam of a laser pointing at his forehead and the muzzle flash of a suppressed Heckler - Koch Mk.23 mod.0 US SOCOM pistol complete with laser aiming device.

  Zamani heard Fard’s body slump to the floor. Into the darkness, he called to him.

  “Bahman … BAHMAN!”

  The lack of response from his subordinate made Zamani as enraged as he was frightened. He reached up and grabbed the receiver from the phone on his desk, but it was dead. He reached up again fumbling with his hand to find his cell phone. Frustrated, he decided to raise his head up just enough to see onto his desk. As soon as he did he saw the same red laser that Fard had seen, this time it was focused on his forehead.

  In an act of defiance, he stood up.

  “Who is out there? Show yourself!”

  The laser bead never moved from where it was aimed, right between his eyes as Zamani heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The first man that entered his office was wearing night-vision goggles and was the one aiming the pistol at his head. He was unfamiliar to him.

  “Who are you? What do you—“

  Before he could finish his question, Mugsy Ricci stepped aside and Zamani recognized the man behind him.

  “De Niro…!”

  “Curious meeting you here … Prince Farouk al-Hassan, was it?”

  Zamani sneered.

  “So, you discovered my deception.”

  He straightened his suit and tie.

  “I merely wanted to know your interest in the mosque. I thought you might not share that with just anyone … but perhaps with a prince.”

  De Niro walked around the desk while Mugsy confiscated Zamani’s cell phone and briefcase. Then he handed the contents of what was in the safe to De Niro.

  “It looks like there is enough here … logs of calls … itineraries … all concerning … Antioch. Would that be your name for what’s happened today out west?”

  Zamani grinned and ignored his question.

  “So is this a robbery. Is that how you made all your money, Mr. De Niro, by stealing it? I notice you are both wearing gloves. So you are … what’s the term �
� cat burglars? But look, you have murdered my assistant. I would say that you are in a lot of trouble, my friend.”

  De Niro dropped the contents of the safe and Zamani’s cell phone into the briefcase and handed it to Ricci.

  “Oh and what about my men in the elevator, did you murder them too?”

  Ricci stepped up close to Zamani, slamming his fist into the Iranian’s gut and doubling him over.

  “You messed with the wrong family.”

  Then he reached down and stood the pained man straight again.

  “Let’s go.”

  Zamani held his midsection struggling to breathe.

  “Wait, where are you taking me?” You cannot get away. My security system has already alerted the police! There’s nowhere for you to—“

  Ricci punched him in his stomach again, this time holding him up so he couldn’t double over.

  “Shut up and let’s go.”

  When they reached the roof of the 52-story building, Ricci let go of Zamani then punched him in his gut again, collapsing him to his knees in pain.

  De Niro stepped in front of him as Ricci went to work near the edge of the building. Zamani struggled to his feet.

  “Why did you bring me up here? I told you, my security system—“

  “We disabled your security system before your men could set off any alarms.”

  De Niro pushed Zamani over towards where Ricci was busy rigging something.

  Zamani’s cool demeanor disappeared replaced with a real look of fear and rage.

  “What is he doing? What are you planning to do?”

  De Niro’s silence angered him even more.

  “You think you can scare me? You Americans don’t understand us at all. We are rewarded in death, when we die as martyrs!”

  De Niro turned his back to Zamani and started walking over to his brother-in-law. As soon as he did, Zamani tried to charge him but De Niro thrashed his elbow into the Iranian’s stomach. Zamani collapsed to his knees again, this time unable to get back to his feet.