by James Hunt
“Homeland is dragging their feet with giving us anything. Moringer’s been on the phone with Perry, trying to keep the lines of dialogue open, but at this point we know about as much as you.”
“What about the city? Has the news given anything to what’s been hit?”
“Utilities mostly, and communications. There were some blasts at the port, but it was mainly structural damage to the docks themselves. No real damage to any of the ships.”
“Is he available?”
“For you? Yeah, he’ll make time.” Jimmy placed her on hold, and her attention returned to the ER. The nurse who’d taken the folders had returned and given her a passive-aggressive glare, which only lasted as long as the next patient took to start screaming at her for help.
“Agent Cooper, it’s good to know you’re alive,” Moringer said. “Jimmy just told me about Diaz. Make sure you give him my regards.”
“I will, sir. Listen, I need you to get in contact with the nearest unit and have them meet me at Boston General. I’ve got a lead in the case, but with the amount of firepower I’ve seen so far, I know I won’t be able to go in alone.”
“I have Sanchez and his men heading over from Philadelphia. Cooper, we need to get a handle on this, and quickly. Homeland isn’t giving me much, but I think that’s because they don’t have anything. Whoever these people are, they caught them off guard.”
“Yeah,” Cooper said, her voice drifting as she took a look at the crowded hospital around her. “Boss, my lead that I have here was the boat captain that got pulled into this. He has kids that we need to get into witness protection. And I’d prefer if it were our guys.”
“You think Homeland’s hiding something?”
“I think that we’ll start sharing information when they do.”
“Risky, but I’ll tell Sanchez. He shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes from you now, pending the roads haven’t been destroyed on his route.”
“Copy that, sir.” Cooper hung up the phone, and before she went looking for Dylan, she made her way to the operating room where Diaz was being treated. The doctor had already administered anesthesia and was digging into the shoulder to remove the slug.
Dylan snuck up behind Cooper and placed his hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump. “I’m sorry.”
“He’ll pull through,” Cooper said. “He’s been shot before, although I’m sure he’d preferred it not to have happened again.” The risks of the job were always prevalent, and the moment that she thought she was comfortable, ahead of the curve, in control of the world around her, incidents like this cast her back into the realm of uncertainty. “We have a unit of men coming over from Philly. My boss sent for them the moment I called all of this in, just in case. They should be here in less than thirty minutes.”
Dylan exhaled, his body seemingly deflating within himself. “Thank you.”
The doctor pulled the slug out of Diaz’s shoulder and dropped the bloody piece of lead into a bucket then began the process of stitching him up. “I wouldn’t thank me yet.”
***
News coverage of the events put a smile on everyone’s face except Kasaika’s. He sat in the corner, watching from a distance as the rest of the group smiled with delight, jeering at the reporters, cursing and spitting at the mention of other terrorist groups taking credit for their work.
The mangled bodies of those at the hospital seeking medical treatment caused Kasaika’s stomach to turn. He closed his eyes and remembered why he was there, why he was inflicting this pain on those people. They will know our pain.
A hand slapped his shoulder, and he looked up to see a smiling Sefkh looking down on him. “Brother, we are one step closer to our final act.”
Kasaika nodded. “Allah willing.”
“Do not fret, Kasaika.” Sefkh sat down beside him, holding a plate of food in his hand. “My people here are very reliable. They want the same thing we do. Justice.”
“I do not enjoy bringing outsiders into our fold.” Kasaika shook his head and spit on the ground. “And to tell them so much? It’s foolish. They should not know the intricacies of our plans.”
Sefkh frowned, setting his plate down with some force. “Do you doubt what you sent me here to do? Do you think I would put us at risk? Put my family at risk?” Sefkh kicked the plate, sending its contents across the floor and diverting everyone’s attention from the television to the two of them. “Your patronizing is becoming tiresome, brother.”
Kasaika rose to his feet, and Sefkh with him. The two men were nose to nose, and the crowd circled around them. Kasaika knew that he didn’t have any friends here, at least not as many as Sefkh. “And your arrogance has been irritable since I arrived. You do not think farther than your own needs.”
Sefkh shoved his hands into Kasaika’s chest, sending him backward and into the arms of the circle of men, who tossed him back. “I am married to your blood! I have given everything I have to this! And I do not need you to come here and undermine my plans.”
Hands gripped the butts of rifles and pistols. Kasaika looked to his own men, outnumbered three to one. He knew they were better trained and willing to do whatever it took, but this was not the way. Not now. “I speak out of turn, brother.” Kasaika gave a light bow. “It has been a long journey, full of struggles that you no doubt have experienced. I forget the burdens we all bear and the difficulties of keeping them lifted above our heads.”
Sefkh’s face softened. “No.” The group of men loosened their grips on their rifles and pistols. “I have not forgotten your burdens, brother.” Sefkh reached for Kasaika, and the two men embraced each other.
“How sweet.”
The voice triggered every man in the room to reach for their weapons and turn around. Kasaika was one of the last to reach for his rifle, and when he aimed it, he could see the man who spoke with both his hands up at his chest.
Sefkh waved them down. “Brothers, please, there is no reason for alarm.” Sefkh shook the man’s hand but ignored the two men with him then turned to introduce him. “This is Deputy Director Perry from Homeland Security. He’s been helping us gather intelligence against the Americans.”
“This is your man?” Kasaika asked, keeping his rifle pointed at Perry while the others had lowered their weapons. “You have told this man our plans? Our secrets?” The closer Kasaika moved toward Perry, his men started to reach for their pistols. “He works for the very agency that’s trying to kill us!”
Perry held up his hand. “I can understand your hesitation, Kasaika. I would do the same in your position. Jazaka Allahu Khairan.”
The man’s Arabic was impressive. Kasaika had never heard the dialect spoken with such authenticity from an American, but still, it did not mean he could be trusted. “Allah will reward only who he sees fit.”
“Enough!” Sefkh stepped between them with his hands thrust into the air. All it took was the look on his face to make his men lower their weapons. When Kasaika was the only one left standing with his rifle raised, Sefkh walked to him and gripped the barrel of the weapon then forced it down by hand.
“I thank you for your audience, Sefkh,” Perry said, giving a light bow. “Now, I believe we have business to discuss?”
“Yes.” Sefkh motioned to Kasaika, and the three stepped into a back room, where they could speak alone, leaving their weapons, and their men, outside.
The only thing Perry carried with him was a briefcase, which he set on the small table. “I trust your trip over went smoothly, Kasaika?” Perry unlatched the briefcase’s latches and spread the documents on the table.
“Yes, everything went according to plan,” Kasiaka answered, picking up a few of the papers.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Agent Perry has granted us much of the access that allowed us to get you here, Kasaika,” Sefkh said. “If it were not for him, I don’t believe your arrival would have been successful.”
“It hasn’t been easy,” Perry replied. “The state department still
has terrorism listed as its number one priority. There are hundreds, thousands really, of government agents looking for a chance to score big on locating some type of threat. It’s a career booster for those looking to climb the rungs of the government ladder quickly.”
“People like you?” Kasaika asked, looking up from the documents.
“Do you see what you’re looking at? These schematics have only been viewed by a handful of individuals with the clearance to see them. You’ve been planning this trip for what? A decade? What you see before you has taken a life’s work. My life’s work. You may not trust me, but at least have the respect for what I’ve done!” Perry’s face had flushed red, and his head tremored from rage. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, slowly, the color of his cheeks returning to normal. “My apologies, Sefkh. Kasaika. The events over the past twenty-four hours in preparation have been stressful.”
Sefkh placed his hand on Perry’s shoulder. “It has been stressful on all of us, my friend.”
Kasaika looked over the documents carefully, examining them the best he could. All of them had red stamps over them marked “classified” or “top secret.” If these schematics were truly real, if this man was not trying to fool them into some type of trap, then everything that Kasaika had dreamed of, all of the suffering, all of the pain, would not have been for nothing. “These are impressive.” Kasaika pressed the corner of one of the papers into his finger. “But the drawings are only half of what we need. How do you expect us to move all of this?”
Perry pressed his hands against the front of his lapel, running his fingers down the soft fabric. “The boat captain.”
“I don’t understand.” Kasaika looked to Sefkh. “The captain was working for you? For us?” Kasaika slammed his fist into the table. “He killed our men!”
“Calm yourself, Kasaika,” Sefkh replied. “He was not working for us. Knowingly, at least.”
“That man, the captain you let slip through your fingers, did you ever ask yourself why Sefkh wanted you to keep him alive?” Perry leisurely walked around the table. Kasaika didn’t appreciate the manner in which the man carried himself so casually, like nothing could touch him. Kasaika could touch him. He could kill him now.
“The United States has warehouses with thousands of acres of servers, all containing and processing information on citizens, foreigners, religious organizations, anyone and everyone that could have an impact on this country’s interests. And do you know who is highly targeted once all those terabytes of data are processed?” Perry pressed his finger into Kasaika’s chest and locked his eyes with his own. “You. Your name, your family’s name with its radical Egyptian heritage, all of them are red flags for anyone working in this business, but I made sure your sister wasn’t hauled off to some cell fifty feet underground when she arrived in this country because of who you were. But do you know who the government doesn’t care about? Captain Dylan Turk.”
Perry separated himself and returned to his briefcase. He pulled out a cluster of pictures and tossed them on the table, where they skidded to the edge next to Kasaika. “And that is Dylan Turk’s family. Aside from his job, it’s the one thing he loves more than anything. So what are we going to do? Use that love and twist it into whatever we want.”
Chapter 9 – Saturday 10:30 a.m.
The number of smoke plumes grew with every mile they drove. They dotted the city like a plague, each of them a festering wound. It wasn’t like anything Dylan had ever seen in his lifetime. The streets were clogged with traffic, people, police vehicles, ambulances. The peaceful Saturday morning so many Boston citizens had planned was immediately halted and thrown into chaos.
Rumblings from the streets, the cries, the people running on stores and the local police doing their best to stop them. Cooper tapped the glass of her passenger-side window. “That’s what people are. That’s what we turn into when our backs are against the wall. It’s amazing we’ve lasted as long as we have.”
The car was packed full with DEA agents, with Dylan sitting in the middle row of seats in the large SUV. They all murmured similar thoughts, watching the events they passed. The fear, the chaos, the ruthlessness that embodied everything that they tried to prevent had erupted from the city all at once.
“Our demons always reveal themselves during moments of trial,” Dylan said. Every agent in the car looked at him, and he watched a few of their expressions through the reflection of the window. It was a phrase he repeated to himself often, whenever he felt himself tempted, tested. It was something he wished he could forget, but the truth of the matter was there was a piece of him that hungered for the pain that came with those words. The moments of release, the moments when he couldn’t control that pain, that’s when he felt it—a deep, burning desire for more. More hate, more vengeance, more power.
Dylan gave his head a light shake. Sweat rolled down his temple and neck. The inside of the vehicle suddenly felt cramped, and the seatbelt across his chest felt like it was choking him. All that matters is getting my family to safety. Focus on that. Dylan’s heart rate lowered, and his muscles loosened their vice-like hold.
Once out of the city and into the suburbs, the chaos and violence was less prevalent. Screaming and looting was replaced with neighbors on their front lawns, talking to one another, no doubt trying to figure out what was going on now that most of the cell towers and communication channels were lost.
The security guard at the front gate of his ex-wife’s community was nowhere to be seen, so Cooper and her agents let themselves in. This neighborhood was more or less the same as the others they passed. A few families were packing up their belongings and anything they could fit in their car. Most of these people probably had second homes somewhere, and that’s where they would wait it out until whatever was happening ended.
No doubt that Peter would be in that same category. The man had money to burn. No matter how many times he tried to rationalize it, Dylan couldn’t rid himself of the gnawing perception that the only reason Evelyn had married that man was because of the money. Not that he blamed her. With everything that Dylan had put her through, she deserved some comfort. Dylan wasn’t a poor man, but the size of his operation never made him rich either.
“What now?” Cooper asked.
The caravan came to a stop on the side of the street right next to Evelyn’s house. She was outside, screaming at her neighbors, screaming at Peter. Her face was a bright red and her eyes and cheeks puffed from crying.
Dylan ripped his seatbelt off and rushed past the rest of the agents and toward Evelyn. She gripped him by the shoulders, hysterical, her nails digging through the fabric of his shirt. “He’s gone!”
“What? Who’s gone, Evelyn? What happened?”
Her voice quivered, and her hands trembled. “Sean. He was here, and then after we heard those explosions, we stepped outside, and when I tried to find him he was gone. I don’t know where he is or if he’s okay, or… or…” Evelyn’s face scrunched up, and she let go of Dylan and used both hands to cover her mouth, muffling moans creeping through the spaces of her fingers.
“Mrs. Harth, when was the last time you saw your son?” Agent Cooper asked. She held a notepad, and some of her men were already out, scanning the house’s perimeter.
“Um, an-an hour ago?” Evelyn shrugged, her lips still quivering. She wrapped herself with her own arms, and Peter walked up behind her and kissed her cheek.
“What about you, Mr. Harth?” Cooper asked. “When did you last see your son?”
“Stepson,” Dylan interjected. He didn’t care how good of a man Evelyn made Peter out to be. Those were his children. This was his son that had gone missing. And it would be Dylan who found him, not that man. That was his blood out there, not Peter’s.
“It was just before we heard the blasts in the city,” Peter answered, giving Dylan a side-eye. “Which was about an hour ago, like my wife said.”
“Anything go missing? Clothes, toys, food, his bike?”
“His ro
om’s a mess.” Evelyn breathed big gulps between words, almost to the point of hyperventilating, but she held it together despite the random shakes from her body. “But I didn’t see anything.”
“I can check the garage for the bike,” Peter replied.
Cooper put a hand on Evelyn’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m sure he just went for a ride around the block, probably hanging out with some friends, trying to explore and figure out what happened. He’ll come back when he’s hungry. They always do.”
Evelyn gave a ghostly nod. Peter jogged back over and shook his head. “His bike’s gone.” The words set off another shriek from Evelyn.
“Does he have any friends nearby?” Cooper asked. “Someplace he likes to go when he feels scared or he’s in trouble?”
“No. He doesn’t have any friends close by,” Evelyn answered.
“He keeps to himself most of the time,” Peter said. “He doesn’t have a lot of friends.”
Dylan noticed the flicker of Peter’s eyes toward him when he said the words. It was true that Sean didn’t like crowds, and it wasn’t a secret that his father wasn’t a fan either. Some genetics stick more than others. “Where’s Mary?”
“She’s inside,” Evelyn answered, wiping her nose on Peter’s sleeve.
Dylan found his daughter upstairs in her room, coloring on the floor, circled by her stuffed animals. She didn’t look up when he entered, a habit she formed when her brother convinced her to keep a secret from her parents. “Hey, honey, what are you doing?”
“Drawing.” Mary switched out one of her crayons and continued the picture.
Dylan placed his hand on the top of Mary’s head, stroking her hair. “Mary, I need you to tell me where your brother went.”
“Sean said I wasn’t supposed to tell Mom or Peter.” Mary looked up at him, batting her eyes, her small cheeks round and puffy. “He made me promise.”
