The Angels of Destiny

by Haydn Jones

  Hunter didn't answer the question, he just tapped his fingers on his desk for a moment.

  "What's the latest on Domaradzki?” asked McPherson.

  "We believe he's still in Mexico. Officer Wayne has been sent there to eliminate him. I spoke to Wayne this morning and he's currently in Mexico City. He's got no leads at the moment so he's about to move to the East coast, Cancun, I believe, why there I don't know. Wayne is good Rob, if that evil bastard is there he'll find him don't worry."

  "I'm not that worried, Colin, I don't think he'll come back anyway. He's just a religious madman. Now that he's alone he has no focus anymore."

  "I hope you're right, Rob, but we can't take any chances, you know that. I will arrange for your security during your visit to the Bay. Don't worry it will be discreet." Hunter quickly stressed.

  “Yes, I know, thank you."

  "I notice that you're carrying a gun these days, Rob."

  “Yes, I am. I feel more comfortable in the current climate."

  Hunter knew that McPherson was a fine shot."What's your schedule today?"

  "We're still working on this damn alien signal we picked up in Houston, trying to understand it. I'm in room D303 with the code busters until later today. Then I fly back to Houston tonight.”

  "Okay, I'll catch up with you in Houston tomorrow afternoon. I've got more fucking meetings here today and late into the night.”

  Rob McPherson was sitting in room D303 alone. It was lunchtime and everyone else was taking a break. He was intently studying the signal structure that still eluded him and some of the best brains in the States. He felt a presence in the room. Turning around he scanned the large windowless room but there was nobody there. Nervously he turned back and continued studying the computer screen information. Then in his peripheral vision he noticed some movement in the reflection from a glass partition. Looking up he could see two figures standing right behind him. Quickly, he turned around but once again the room was empty. He slipped his right hand into his jacket and unbuckled his Smith and Wesson 686P.........I think I'm losing the plot.

  Later that day, people were arriving at the White House for a meeting of national security. Black government limousines flying the Stars and Stripes were bringing senior military personnel, the Defense Secretary, Secretary of State and numerous senior CIA staff to meet up with the President. Disturbing intelligence reports from Pakistan had prompted the defense chiefs to request this extraordinary presidential debrief.

  Twenty-Seven

  Band-e Amir, Afghanistan

  For millions of years Carbon Dioxide rich water, oozing from the fractures and faults in this remote area of mountainous land had sculptured vast caves and caverns deep below the five lakes west of Kabul. Places ideal for people like Ahmed-Shah intent on destroying the Western World. He was a highly trained killer and disciple of Jihad. His hatred of the infidels was a driving force that fueled his obsession and inspired his master plan.

  The cold winter air outside the caves carried large snowflakes that the cutting wind piled into large drifts making access into this remote mountainous region almost impossible to outsiders. Inside the main cave fires burned and illuminated the yellow and red ochre mineral laden walls. A smoke canopy from the fires hung close to the ceiling of the cave and wavered slowly, juxtaposed to the rigid walls of the stone cave. It was a perfect natural screen against the United States’ spy satellites.

  Four men were sitting around the warming flames of one of the crackling wood fires, smoking opium and drinking tea. The flickering flames illuminated their craggy faces and dark eyes while thick black beards hid most of their facial features. The deep scar across their leader’s right eye identified him clearly from the others. They were in good spirits and their mood was expectant. All four men were trained killers, learning their trade in the desserts of Yemen and mountains of Afghanistan over a period of four years. They feared no one and were prepared to die for their extreme fundamentalist beliefs.

  "Khalifa, we have received good news from North Korea." Ahmed-Shah paused before continuing, breathing in deeply... "They are prepared to meet us."

  Great excitement and cheers followed the announcement. Each member stood up and in turn hugged their illustrious leader.

  He then continued. "The satellite photographs showing the American nuclear warheads being transported through Israel are of the highest quality and we leave with them for Pyongyang within seven days, inshallah. The meeting in Pakistan has been set up for two days time and our papers and passports have been arranged with the help of Ramazan-Ali. The North Koreans are arranging the flights, through our intermediaries in Pakistan. They have fallen for this one my brothers, just as we hoped they would and they are happy to pay a lot of money for the privilege. We have almost convinced the Americans that they are about to be annihilated by their perceived number one enemy and soon the second stage of the plan will be complete."

  The smell of opium was strong and heady in the enclosed air of the cave but the good news from North Korea was a far more powerful stimulant than any drug they'd ever smuggled. A quantum leap in fact, like the buzz they got from killing an infidel.

  Twenty-Eight

  Cancun, Mexico

  The early evening flight from Mexico City approached the runway at Cancun airport from the sea and as it banked Wayne had a clear view of the lights of the city from his righthand window seat. If you are down there you bastard, I'll find you and I will kill you. That's a promise.

  After a good night’s sleep and a breakfast of steak and eggs Wayne was ready to spend the next few days in the area asking questions, taking photographs and more importantly observing what was going on. His visit to Mexico City had uncovered absolutely nothing and he knew that finding Adam Domaradzki was not going to be easy. He would need a stroke of luck.

  As he left the Hotel Ibis he donned a pair of sunglasses and strode purposefully towards the first of a row of taxis waiting for business.

  "Take me to the port." Wayne said abruptly to the Mexican driver, who was sitting on the hood of his white Mercedes, smoking a cigarette.

  "Puerto Juarez?"

  "Whatever," retorted Wayne, with lethargy in his tone.

  Adam Domaradzki was sitting under a large 'Modelo Especial' parasol at his favorite beach-bar, away from the burning heat of the Mexican sun. He was wearing a Panama hat, white shirt, denim shorts and sandals and enjoying a cool beer and the welcoming breeze coming off the sea. Revenge was very much on his mind. Now he had the fake US passport from the priest he could get back into the US in the name of Christian Hansen, from New York City. He grabbed a Marlboro red protruding from the crushed pack next to his Ray Ban's and lit it with his Zippo. Breathing the smoke deep into his lungs he continued to scribble notes into a small black leather book on the table.

  Domaradzki noticed the stranger approach the bar and sit at one of the stools. He watched surreptitiously as he ordered a coffee from the bartender. There was something odd about the man but he didn't know what it was. He's no tourist. Instinctively he put on his sunglasses and sipped his beer. He tried to hear what the stranger was saying but the music from the bar stereo drowned out his words.

  "I'm looking for this guy. Have you seen him or do you know him?" Wayne asked the young suntanned bartender, pushing a photo of Adam Domaradzki across the bar. The bartender looked at the photo of a white haired man with a beard for a few seconds and shrugged his shoulders. " Sorry, can't help you."

  "He's probably changed his appearance now. I doubt if he's got a beard anymore." Wayne said disinterestedly.

  "Sorry, can't help you. Sugar with your coffee?"

  “Yeah... Any new arrivals around here in the last few weeks?"

  "Who are you, mister? Some kind of detective or something? Asking all these questions."

  "Something like that, yeah," replied Wayne. "I'm trying to find a very dangerous serial killer and if he's here it won’t be long before he kills another poor innocent victim. Someone just like
you."

  The bartender looked shocked and nervously started cleaning a beer glass with a cloth.

  "You're a copper, yeah?"

  "Something like that, yeah."

  Domaradzki downed his beer, pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes and briskly walked away.

  Wayne looked around at the beach views and breathed in the fresh salty sea air through his nostrils. Picking up his coffee and the photo from the bar, he walked over to a shaded table and pulled out a slatted wooden seat to sit down, exposing a small black leather book on the floor next to a cactus bed. A small lizard stood quite still next to the book, guarding it.

  Hours later under the cover of darkness, Domaradzki returned to the bar with a flashlight. He walked over to the table where he'd been sitting earlier in the day and shone the beam of light on to it. Fuck. Nervously he flicked the torch beam around the immediate area in search of the book. Then behind one of the chairs next to a cactus bed he noticed something. For a few seconds he stared in amazement at the book before eventually bending down and retrieving it. Domaradzki looked around to see if anyone was about, but at three o'clock in the morning he wasn't expecting to see anyone.

  Officer Wayne's night vision camera caught his subjects image in perfect focus and the shutter clicked in multi-frame mode, but the sound was too far away to alert Domaradzki to his presence. Wayne looked at the LCD display on the back of the special Nikon DSLR and smiled at the image. Got you, you evil bastard. Thank you, Lady Luck.

  The phone in Hunter's office rang and he picked up the receiver. “Yes, Linda?”

  "I have Officer Wayne on the line sir."

  "Put him on please — Good morning, Colin Williams speaking.” For over a minute he sat in silence with a smile that gradually broadened, listening intently with the phone to his ear.

  "Okay, so you have confirmed it’s him?...So what do you need?...When do you need it?…Okay, you've got it, leave it to me. Well done, Officer Wayne." Hunter put down the phone and walked out of the office.

  Domaradzki woke at six o'clock from a short disturbed sleep, walked into the kitchen and made a cup of strong instant coffee. His mind was racing and his hands trembled from the adrenalin pumping inside his body. Everything was packed ready to go so it was only a case of driving to the boat some ten minutes away. Opening the double doors onto the veranda he lit a cigarette and looked out towards the ocean and the moored cruiser he'd leased some two weeks earlier. The time had come to go back to the US, much earlier than he'd originally planned but present circumstances dictated.

  At eight o’clock, Domaradzki arrived at the mooring, and clambered aboard the Chaparral 290 Signature Cruiser carrying two large bags of designer luggage. The weather was fine and the sea peacefully calm. The diesel tanks were full and he'd calculated on sailing back to the US around the East coastline keeping Cuba to his right, rather than the direct route through all of the oil rigs, shrimping boats and commercial stuff, spending some time in Florida before coast hopping to Galveston. The experience gained on Richard Stark's boat was going to prove to be time well spent.

  Once on board Domaradzki dropped the luggage and made his way down to the hold. He unlocked the door, switched on the light and looked in at the range of armory he'd collected together since arriving in Mexico. Hand guns, automatic and semi automatic rifles, hand grenades and a stash of plastic explosive. In Mexico money can get you anything you want.

  Officer Wayne, aboard an unmarked government boat some two hundred yards out to sea, was watching with interest through high powered binoculars.

  “Mr. Williams, I think he's about to make a move," said Wayne into a cell phone. He then listened intently to the instructions that Hunter gave him. “Yes, sir, I fully understand. I will need you to confirm with me as soon as he enters US waters. I've got four armed officers with me so I'm not expecting too much trouble sir. Okay, thank you, sir. I'll speak to you soon." Wayne put down the phone and then instructed the other armed crew members on board as to what was going to happen once they got the green light from Hunter.

  Standing at the helm, Domaradzki turned a key and pressed a button marked start engines. Without delay the Volvo Diesel engines responded with a deep lion like roar, reverberating the boat into life. He then untied the mooring ropes at the back of the boat and scanned the quay before carefully climbing up to the helm again and maneuvering the boat out into open water. The navigation system was set for Florida and the journey commenced as he pulled down on the boats throttle. Once at sea he steered the boat until the compass turned and steadied at a north northeast direction. God will keep me safe.

  The Ellington Building, Houston.

  "Hello, Rob McPherson speaking."

  “Rob, it's Hunter here. I've got good news for you, we've located Domaradzki. Can you come over to my office please, we need to talk."

  McPherson could hardly believe what he'd heard. Putting the phone down, he walked briskly to Hunter's office. The door was open when he arrived and Hunter was on the phone. He gestured for him to come in and pointed to the chair in front of his desk. McPherson sat in silence while Hunter continued his conversation.

  “Yes, we'll be leaving in about an hour." Hunter continued. "Myself and Rob McPherson; make sure it's ready and the armory is as I requested...That's good. See you at the airbase.”

  McPherson just looked in disbelief at Hunter.

  “Rob, we've got the evil bastard in our sights," Hunter said enthusiastically.

  "What the hells going on, Colin?" McPherson asked in confusion.

  “Domaradzki has left Mexico by boat and is heading for US waters. We're going to meet him."

  "We?" responded McPherson.

  "That's right, you and I. I'm taking you with me to witness this bastard’s capture, it's the least I can do after he tried to kill you and your family with that car bomb."

  "Just how do you plan to do that, Colin?"

  "You and I Rob are taking an AH-64 Apache to the action off the Florida coast. Don't worry, I'm a fully qualified military pilot and I've seen quite a bit of action you know."

  McPherson felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up from the sudden excitement. "I didn't know you were a pilot, Colin."

  "Yes I am, just like you Rob, but then...there's a lot you don't know about me." Hunter said, smiling.

  "But the Apache is an attack helicopter" McPherson said with a confused frown.

  "That's right, it is. I always believe it's a good idea to be prepared for anything, don't you? After all this man almost killed one of my top men."

  The compliment made McPherson smile...I can't help but like this guy.

  Twenty-Nine

  The White House, Washington DC

  Mark Quail was a tall man, uncompromising and confident. When he spoke, people listened. An attribute necessary when you held the position of Defense Secretary and Chief Executive Officer of the Department of Defense for the United States of America.

  "In summary Mr. President we are taking this threat extremely seriously. The intelligence coming in from Pakistan suggests that North Korea is planning some kind of nuclear attack in the near future on the US or possibly Israeli soil. We cannot allow that to happen of course and it may be necessary for us to pre-empt their actions.”

  The President was sitting at the head of the table deliberating and looking over the rim of his glasses at the sixteen other members seated at the oval table. There was silence in the room which made some people uncomfortable. They scribbled meaningless notes on paper, coughed unnecessarily and avoided eye contact at all costs. The President’s face was stern and he appeared agitated by Quail's summary. Finally he broke the silence. "Why are they doing this?" He asked, to no one in particular.

  "We don't know the answer to that yet, sir,” Quail responded. "We can make a guess from three possible scenarios. One, they believe we are about to attack them. Two, they have decided to attack us anyway. And three...”

  The President interrupted Quail in mid sente
nce. "Let's not deal with scenarios, let’s deal with facts shall we. When you say we will have to pre-empt their actions, what do you mean?"

  Quail tapped the table with his pen before answering. "I mean it might be necessary for us to bomb North Korea first."

  "With nuclear warheads?" The President asked solemnly.

  “Yes, sir.” Quail replied. His eyes quickly scanned the others around the table as he consciously looked for support. Stone faced, they gave him no clues at all.

  "Then you need to give me a real good reason gentlemen. If I'm to press the red button I need to know that it is the only solution left to me and the people of the US. Show me evidence of what North Korea is doing. Prove to me without a shadow of a doubt that we are under imminent danger of attack. Don't talk to me about scenarios…I want to reconvene in one week for intelligence updates and facts, unless of course the situation worsens in the meantime." The President stood up, quickly followed by the other members around the table.

  "Good-day ladies and gentlemen and thank you for your time today." He turned and left the room, clearly agitated by the worsening situation.

  Thirty

  The Gulf of Mexico

  Domaradzki's cruiser had just entered US waters when on the horizon to the North a US coastguard boat, carrying Officer Wayne and four other armed men, came into view traveling at high speed. Minutes later the boat had pulled up thirty feet from Domaradzki's cruiser. Wayne held a megaphone in his hand and then lifted it to his mouth.