Godsend Series 1-5

by K Elliott

  Abul grimmaced as he continued to stain his pants and carpet with blood.

  Echo produced a large syringe containing 200 cc's of a light green chemical. "Your religion got you thinking you'll die and enjoy ninety-nine virgins in Heaven, all because of your jihad role. Sounds like some man-made fantasy to me. Of all the miracles in the universe you can be blessed with, somebody decided you should have a bunch of women to fuck. Virgins at that, tight pussy you got to break in."

  Abul wondered whether the gunman was a government agent.

  "You've been fooling the feds for too many years now, faking like you don't have a religion. You know what this is?" Echo showed him the syringe "Ephylvasculicide. I'm gonna push this big-ass needle in your spinal cord and deliver you from evil. It's not gonna kill you. You'll be paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of your life. Your silly ass will be in a wheelchair when you get to Heaven forty years from now, so you can't do nothing with ninety-nine fine bitches. You'll probably get assigned one bitch, and she probably done fucked everything up there."

  Abul said, "What you speak of is blasphemy. You are an infidel with no understanding of Allah and His will. If you do not subject me to the harms of your needle, I will give you the valuable information which you seek."

  "I'm hanging out with you long enough to confirm everything you tell me. When I catch your holy ass in a lie, I'mma juice that goddamn spine up."

  CHAPTER 12

  IT TOOK AN HOUR AND a half for Sheree to drive from Abul's San Diego neighborhood to her own townhouse apartment in San Bernardino. Brian was there with Norma, but now Sheree would watch over Abul's wife. Sheree filled Brian in on some matters that Echo could not discuss over the phone.

  At 11:46 p.m. Brian entered the bathroom and found Norma curled up on the floor, still chained around her waist like an animal. When she sat up he said, "It's official; your husband is a terrorist. Marriage, children with an American woman, being a successful business owner-all of that was just an elaborate front."

  "I don't believe that. I'm sure he was tortured and forced to tell your friend whatever he wanted to hear."

  Brian said, "He never filed a missing persons report about you because he doesn't care if you or your two girls die. His allegiance is with Allah and the al Qaeda movement."

  "Nothing you say can make me believe you, so why are you telling me this?"

  "Because we all have a serious problem. There are five powerful bombs in different locations in California. Abul doesn't now the locations, but the bombs can be remotely triggered using an online website and application designed by him. And even if the website is shut down, other members of his group can set each bomb off manually. Abul was in charge of programming and using his company to fund the conspiracy, but he claims he doesn't know any of the other members or how to contact them."

  She said, "Even if I were foolish enough to believe any of it, I wouldn't know what to do to help."

  "You can tell me whether your husband has any friends here from the Middle East."

  "No, he doesn't." She lowered her face to her hands. "He contacts his parents in Saudi Arabia maybe three or four times a year, but that's it. Abul's friends are American businessmen here in the U.S."

  Brian didn't know what else to ask her. Investigating terrorists and their wives was not his specialty. He knew that he and Echo needed help, but inviting the FBI could also make him and his cousin the subjects of a criminal investigation. What he and Echo were doing wasn't even close to being legal. Still, though, Abul was part of a terror plot that was initiated in the 80's. Tens of thousands of people were probably going to die. Brian left the bathroom and closed the door. He walked to the kitchen and said to Sheree, "This could be way worse than 9/11." He pulled out his cell phone and called FBI Criminal Profiler Teresa Grove, his connection in Huntington, West Virginia.

  Teresa said, "Brian, what's up?"

  "Abul is definitely a member of al Qaeda. Don't ask me how I know, just listen. There are five bombs in California, but I don't know the locations. The plan was to use a website designed by Abul to set them off at specific times. There are other al Qaeda members here, but Abul claims he doesn't know them."

  She said, "You have to let the FBI handle it from here on."

  "That's exactly why I called you. I can call your friend, Special Agent Wade Bruins, and tip him off to everything I've learned. But I want you to call him first and give him a heads up."

  She said, "I'll get on it. I'll also contact someone from Cyber Crimes."

  CHAPTER 13

  LANCASTER, CALIFORNIA, was eighty miles north of Sheree's place. Except for the pair of large satellite dishes on top and the large, red call letter on the side, the radio station of KZLX was a nondescript, 2-story building. It was AM 1620 on the dial, and Brian had been tuned in during his drive to the place, listening to Christian music that was apparently made by and for white folks.

  Brian entered the building carrying an iPad and was greeted by the co-producer.

  Erin Wheatley was an average-size white woman in her early thirties. Not bad-looking, but nothing to brag about, either. She was wearing a corny-ass, conservative dress as she remained seated behind a large desk that held a phone, computer, and other desktop materials. She said, "Welcome to KZLX. How may I help you?" She smiled pleasantly.

  Brian walked up to the desk, calmly opened his sport coat, and removed a handgun from his shoulder holster. "Get up and lock the door. Flip the sign around while you're at it."

  Erin cautiously followed orders. When she turned the lock on the all-glass door and displayed the Closed sign, she half-turned toward him and said, "Mister, we don't keep any money here. Many of our listeners make donations, and none of it is ever in cash."

  Brian waved her away from the door. "Lead the way to the studio."

  A minute later, they were upstairs and at the door of the broadcast studio. Brian said, "Open the door and get your ass inside."

  Erin entered without her usual knock while the gunman damn near walked on her heels.

  The Reverend George Dumar Ambercrombie was in his forties but looked fifty-five, though well-groomed and still fit. There was rackmount equipment stacked up to six feet, digital recorders, analog mixers, and an unimpressive window view. The Reverend turned in his swivel seat and saw Erin and a black man.

  Brian closed the door. When the Revered removed his headphones, Brian aimed the gun at him and said, "I know it's Sunday morning, but can't you play something off Ice Cube's first solo album? That shit was a classic."

  "Uh . . . Well, sure. I can quickly download a musical request from the Internet if you-"

  "Mr. Ambercrombie, this might take a while." There were two more large, swivel chairs on either side of the Revered. Brian sat on the man's left and ordered Erin to sit on the man's right. Brian placed his iPad on a workstation panel directly in front of himself then turned to the Reverend again. Other than the small sound coming from the headphones, the huge room was quiet. "I'm here to scan your fingerprints."

  "My fingerprints?"

  "That's right. And if they match the prints found on the knife that was left in the head of murder victim Allen Orcutt, you're gonna need about fifteen to twenty years to fully repent."

  The Reverend became apprehensive, and he knew he could not hide his internal panic. "If you're with some sort of law enforcement division, I believe you would need a warrant and a court order."

  Brian said, "Sounds like you been doing some research. I wonder why.". He looked down at the man's left hand, which was gripping the arm of the swivel chair. Brian calmly pressed the tip of the handgun's barrel against the back of the man's hand. "Did I say Ice Cube? I think I would rather hear some classic Public Enemy. You got five minutes to get Rebel Without A Pause on the airwaves." Then Brian pulled the trigger, sending a single round trough the man's hand.

  Erin jumped out of her seat, and her bossman hollered as if the Holy Ghost had just gotten into him.

  CHAPTER 14

/>   BRIAN HAD ALLOWED Ambercrombie to wrap the injured hand with a necktie, but the blood was still messy. The iPad contained a file with the fingerprints from the knife that killed Allen Orcutt twenty-three years ago, and it had taken the computer all of three seconds to confirm Ambercrombie's right hand prints as a match.

  Brian looked at the large desktop telephone and saw that all ten lines were lit up. Undoubtedly Public Enemy haters, and the song hadn't even gone off yet. He said to Erin, "Get us live, and let's take Caller Number 1. Turn those speakers on so I won't have to wear headphones."

  Erin got out of her seat and worked the control board. After a few seconds she said, "Each green button here answers a call; the yellow button put the caller back on hold; and the red buttons hangs up on the caller." She sat down again and glanced at her bossman, never suspecting him to be a violent man in the five years she had worked for him.

  Brian positioned the studio microphone closer to his mouth so that he wouldn't have to lean forward or get out of his swivel chair. He said, "Erin, we're gonna take these calls in order. Move your chair closer to work the phone." He cleared his throat, preparing to alter the sound of his natural voice. He gave Erin a signal.

  She put the first caller through.

  Brian deepened his voice slightly and said, "KZLX. Who's your shepherd?"

  Caller One said, "The Lord is my shepherd. Listen, that sounds like Devil's music. I'm sure it's a program error and you guys didn't know you were playing a rap song."

  "Devil's music? Brother, you're judging. Find in the Scripture what the Bible says about judging and call me back." Brian showed Erin two fingers then quickly got another caller. "KZLX. Who's your shepherd?"

  Caller Two said, "The Lord is my shepherd. I'm really surprised that Revered Ambercrombie would allow that type of music. Did he leave for the day?"

  "Sister, the Rev is using the bathroom. He said he got gas, and you know it's a sin to break wind over the airwaves." He pointed at Erin again.

  "KZLX. Who's your shepherd?"

  Caller Three said, "The Lord is my shepherd. Please let Revered Ambercrombie know that he's just lost a loyal listener and supporter. My name is Maxine Elway, and if he checks his books he'll find that I've donated ten thousand dollars a year for the past three years."

  Brian said, "Who the fuck created Public Enemy? God! Who blessed Terminator X with the skills to scratch like that? God! Who gave Chuck D that deep, Martin Luther King voice? God! So you better be careful, lady. All this could be a test. Are you suggesting that God made a mistake?"

  "No, no, no. Of course not. I didn't look at it that way. I apologize."

  "Very well, my Sister. Stay tuned because I got another test coming up for you. I'mma get my assistant to play some classic Eazy E. Listen to every word in a song of his called Still Talkin' Shit. See if you can find the hidden spiritual message." He pointed at Erin again.

  "KZLX. Who's your shepherd?"

  "Dirk Nowitzki," the caller said. "That's my German Shepherd."

  Brian laughed, knowing it was Echo.

  Echo said, "Muthafucka, you was supposed to play some old Ice Cube."

  "Hey, watch your goddamn language. You're live on the radio."

  Echo said, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

  Ambercrombie lowered his hand and began crying, and it wasn't because of the sharp pain in his left hand. He had killed a gay man for making unwelcomed advances but had decided to turn his own life over to God less than two years ago. Today, though, he was starting to believe that God hadn't taken his repentance seriously.

  CHAPTER 15

  NORMA WAS WEARING a blindfold again. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, and she was lying across the back seat of her own Audi as Echo drove. Sheree was following in the Mercedes.

  Norma said, "Where are you taking me?"

  Echo said, "To another city; then you're free to go."

  "Did you hurt my husband? Where is he?"

  "I'm told that the Feds went to your home and got him a few hours ago. And did I hurt him? Well, I shot him in the ass. I suppose that hurt at first, but it can't be bothering him now."

  "And why wouldn't it be bothering him? Did the police get medical attention for him?"

  Echo glanced at her in the rearview mirror and then continued watching the highway ahead. "I'm sure they took him to the hospital, but he's paralyzed from the neck down. They could stitch his ass wound up with a crochet needle and a shoe string; he won't feel a thing."

  She said, "Let me make sure I understand you. You think you're doing a good thing fighting terrorism when your tactics amount to terrorism against an individual?"

  Echo laughed at her. "I wouldn't call it a fight. I shot your man in the ass then stabbed him in the spine, injecting a toxin. Wasn't no fight; I simply fucked the old boy up."

  "Well, Mr. Hero. I suspect you've saved a ton of lives. Nothing will ever happen to America now."

  Echo said, "Answer this: You think America deserves another terrorist attack?"

  "American will certainly get what it deserves. What it deserves is subject to many interpretations."

  "You didn't answer the question. You have two young girls. Answer the question with them in mind."

  Norma squirmed a little for comfort in the handcuffs. "My children are irrelevant . . . Considering my children or anyone else's won't change America's fate. When God evokes tornadoes, earthquakes, and tsunamis, surely He has children in mind. They still die, don't they?"

  "Okay. Alright, if you think something bad is gonna happen to America, why haven't you packed your shit up and moved to some other damn country? And take your rat-ass kids with you?"

  "That's a fair question." She thought about it a few more seconds. "Maybe America won't fall in my lifetime. Besides, I was born here and am not familiar with other parts of the world."

  "Woman, you're thirty-six with a fuckin' college education. You had plenty of time to learn about Jerusalem and Guatemala. Why stay here if you hate the country?"

  "I never said I hate the country; I said it will get what it deserves."

  Echo glanced at her again, flipped on his signal, and changed lanes. "Obviously you believe in God, but what's your religion? You don't go to church, but you sound like you're closer to God than the rest of us."

  "My religion is none of your business. That's a private matter for me."

  Echo said, "I'll tell you what's a private matter. How about I get off this highway, find a wooded area, and get some head from you like you promised? You ever gave Abul some head?"

  She didn't respond.

  "When the Feds find at least one of the bombs by tracing his website . . . or following the web links, will you invite me over so I can put you in my favorite position? It's called the swingset."

  She said, "What happens when you're proven to be wrong about my husband?"

  "I see your point, and I ain't got no problem licking pussy. You win either way."

  CHAPTER 16

  IT WAS ALMOST NOON when Norma stopped at a gas station in Temecula, California. She still had her checkbook, cash and credit cards in her handbag, and she wondered why Echo hadn't taken anything. After refueling, she sat in the driver's seat of her Audi and used her Blackberry to make a call. With her husband in jail now, the most important matters would fall in her lap. There was a certain businessman on whom she could count, though she'd only met him once.

  Echo was on the phone with Brian while driving back to Sheree's apartment. Echo said, "I like how you made Ambercrombie confess to the murder on the air. All of his listeners know how phony he is now."

  "Yeah, I made his co-producer call and report it to the cops, and then I got missing."

  Echo said, "Did Teresa get back with you?"

  "Twenty minutes ago. Special Agent Bruins is notifying some agents from a Los Angeles field office. Abul's web app can trigger five different cell phones, and the Feds believe those phones will set off the bombs. The phones are prepaid, so they're rushing to f
igure out who bought them from a Wal-Mart in San Francisco."

  Echo glanced at Sheree in the passenger's seat then said to Brian, "The stupid muthafuckas ought be tracking down the phones instead of trying to find out who bought them."

  "Can't track the phones unless they're in use, and they're probably all on standby."

  Echo said, "In other words, the Feds are waiting until some shit blows up and some people get killed?"

  Brian laughed. "Hell no. FBI Cybercrimes and the Department of Homeland Security are monitoring Abul's website, the one that will trigger the phones. When someone visits the site it's gonna freeze-up, and the Feds will track whoever is trying to access that site. It's out of our hands now, all the way out of our field of expertise."

  "I gotta call my wife and daughter," Echo said. "Christmas is almost a month away, so we should probably spend more time at home. We need a Christmas break then get back to skull bashing after New Year's Day."

  "That reminds me: Me and Janelle looked at an apartment in Pasadena. I'm bringing my daughter out here next week, so I'm abandoning Tennessee. You wanna take a month off and, coincidentally, I told Janelle that I would take a month off to get used to living with her."

  Echo said, "That's good. I'm glad you found a woman that you like and can live with, but I hate that I can't jump in my car and stop by in ten minutes."

  "Yeah, well, there's something else. After we clear our cases, that's it for me. Six more cases to go, and then Godsend is all yours. I want an Internet company."

  "All mine?" Echo shook his head. "I'm not working this shit without you. When you're done, I'm done."

  "I thought you wanted a promotion. You get to be owner and CEO."

  "When you pulled me in, I was working at McDonald's and couldn't even help my wife out. I'll have three hundred grand in cash by the time you quit, so now she can self-publish and promote all of her book manuscripts."