Day of Reckoning

by G. Michael Hopf

  Captain Arnold looked down the table and asked, “Can I interject here?”

  “Sure,” the naval officer said.

  “Sergeant Brennan, when this inquiry was first called, we had something else in mind, but as more information became available and when the intelligence the raid acquired bore fruit, we shifted the rationale for having you here. You’re a good NCO and a great squad leader, but I think you have a greater purpose now. Alpha Company is going to miss you.”

  Brennan was completely confused as to where this was leading, but it clearly was going in a direction of him leaving First Battalion Fifth Marines.

  The unknown naval commander jumped back in. “The intelligence gathered yesterday has led us to a huge facility in Mexico. We’re putting together a special team to tackle this and we’d like you to be a part of that team.”

  Brennan nodded, unsure of what to say.

  “We’d like you to pick members from your squad that you think will be assets to this team. You’ll work under Senior Chief Petty Officer Owens. Once the final elements of the team are assembled, you’ll depart the MEU and head to Mombasa, Kenya. There you’ll be taking a transport to Diego Garcia to deliver the specimen to a team from the CDC. After that your team will head to Coronado.”

  “Sir, I have a few questions,” Brennan asked. A look of confusion was written all over his face.

  “I’m sure you do. Proceed.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because you’ve proven you’re the kind of man we need. You’re deliberate and thoughtful in your actions.”

  “There’s a lot of men out there more qualified for these types of missions than me, sir.”

  “Don’t undercut yourself too much. Yes, we have highly trained teams for this sort of action but…” The naval officer paused and looked at the other officers.

  Several nodded for him to continue.

  “What I’m about to tell you comes all the way down from the president. We need to keep this under wraps. The fewer that know about these droolers, the better. That’s until we know for sure what we’re dealing with.”

  Brennan shook his head.

  “Is there something wrong, Sergeant?”

  “That can’t be all of it.”

  “All of what, Sergeant?”

  “The truth.”

  The officer recoiled from Brennan’s sharp response.

  “I asked for you and your squad,” Owens said from the side of the room.

  Brennan turned and looked at Owens. “Why?”

  “It’s true they want as few people to know as possible. But to be quite honest, you showed me right away you know how to fight whatever these things are. I need someone like you. Someone who will act and not be sorry for it. And let me be clear, we’re not going to make you go. If you don’t want this, just say so.”

  Thoughts of Jenna came to Brennan. He had no doubt this new assignment could delay his return, but his nation was calling on him personally. If he turned down the assignment, he’d be home and holding his new baby soon, but what was this new threat? Would there be a home to return to if it got out? This was a chance for him to keep his family safe. He would be on the frontlines of stopping this and that was where he needed to be.

  He gave Owens a nod, turned to the officers seated and said confidently, “I’m in.”

  London, United Kingdom

  Jorge paced the room with the phone to his ear. It rang until it disconnected. “Son of a bitch!”

  “Sir, do you want me to try another number?” his assistant asked.

  He tossed the phone onto a leather couch and said, “They tell me the time to call and then they never pick up. I hate waiting. I hate, hate, hate it!”

  Just as he finished complaining, the phone rang.

  Jorge marched to the couch and picked up the phone. He looked at the screen and saw it read UNKNOWN CALLER. “Must be them,” he said and answered. “Yes.”

  “Sorry, I’m late calling. I’ve been tied up.” It was the same voice from the other day.

  “I wanted to make sure you received the cash,” Jorge said.

  “We did.”

  “And to let you know I have a judge that’s ready to place an injunction on President Shade’s executive order the day it comes out.”

  “Good.”

  Jorge walked to a massive window that looked out over the River Thames. “Are we on schedule still?”

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “Soon.”

  “You’re a man of few words today. I would like to speak with Israfil, not now but can you make it happen?” Jorge asked.

  “Soon, you’ll see Israfil, I promise.”

  “I’ve cancelled all my travel to the States. I can assume that’s wise?”

  “You assumed correctly.”

  “Can you give me something, a date, time?”

  “You’ll know when it happens, trust me.”

  Jorge paused. He hated being the anxious one, but he couldn’t help it. He had invested so much into this endeavor and soon it would pay off. Soon, his dream of crushing the capitalist regimes in the United States and Europe would be complete. It had been a lifelong vision and now he was close.

  “The reports we’re seeing of the protests are good, but we need more. We need your people to be violent, extremely violent.”

  “I’ve deployed my people. They’ve hired as many as possible to hit the streets.”

  “We need more. We need every major freeway in every major city in the United States shut down. We need to bring the United States to a crawl. This needs to happen over the next few days, culminating in a historic show of violence and civil disobedience May 1.”

  “I’ll redouble our efforts, but you must promise me that I’ll get to meet Israfil.”

  “You will, that I can guarantee. If that is all, I need to go.”

  “You will set up a meeting, a face-to-face with Israfil?” Jorge again pressed, anxious to meet this mystery man.

  “Yes. There is something else I need of you.”

  “Something else?”

  “Yes. We know you have contacts in DC, contact them. There’s a military unit that’s gathered information from one of our sites. We need to know what they know, and if you can, shut them down. Do whatever you can to stifle their efforts.”

  “Does this have to do with Somalia?”

  “If you wish to see our endeavor succeed, you’ll do what I ask.”

  Jorge fumed. He hated being told what to do. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Good.”

  “May 1, is that the day?” Jorge asked.

  “We’ll let you know soon enough, I swear. Now if that is all, goodbye, Mr. Sorossi.”

  “That is all,” Jorge replied.

  The phone clicked dead.

  Jorge tossed the phone, stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared out at the boats cruising along the river. The pedestrians strolling its banks and the cars zooming past on the streets above would soon come to a halt and it would all be because of him. A smile slowly stretched across his face as that fact hit home. He had become so rich and powerful that he alone would stop the world from moving. He would end the world as he knew it and usher in a new one.

  Ankara, Turkey

  David looked at his watch and grunted in frustration. Joram was running hours late. He began to wonder if he had been caught by his former compatriots and at this very moment was being tortured or was possibly dead.

  Even if Joram didn’t show, the trip wasn’t a waste of time. Max had rescheduled his interviews with various networks via Skype and phone. And he also had the opportunity to chat with Dylan Grim, an old friend and intelligence source who worked at the United States Consulate. He informed Grim that he was meeting with someone who could potentially provide critical information and that he’d be back in contact soon.

  In the far corner above the bar, a television news flash appeared.

  Breaking news. President Shade has officially signe
d his controversial executive order banning all travel from any nation on the United States terror list, any passport holder from those nations, and has increased the vetting on all non- US passport holders coming from anywhere. He said and I quote, ‘Today, I fulfilled a campaign promise. America will be safer for this increased vetting and ban. We will reevaluate the situation in six months.’

  David watched the remaining segment and smirked and said, “Good luck with that.”

  The waiter approached him but before he could speak, David interrupted.

  “No more, thank you.”

  “Sir, is your name David?” the middle-aged man asked, his arms folded behind his back, his Turkish accent delicately hidden.

  David looked around nervously to see if anyone was watching him but the small café in the Saffron Ankara Hotel was nearly empty save for two old men huddled in the corner. He studied them but from all appearances they looked like two fellow Americans.

  “Sir, is your name David?” the waiter repeated.

  Wary, David lifted his head and replied, “Yes.”

  The waiter unfolded his arms and in his right hand held a small white envelope. “This is for you.”

  Nervously, David took the envelope and examined it. “Who gave this to you?”

  “The gentleman at the bar,” he replied.

  David looked past him towards the ornate wooden bar, but no one was there and he hadn’t noticed anyone there earlier.

  “Can I get you anything else or just the check?” the waiter asked.

  His curiosity piqued, David ripped the envelope open and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, the hotel letterhead crowned it.

  Seeing that David was distracted, the waiter walked off without an answer to his question.

  David quickly read the note. As his eyes passed over each word, his eyes widened more with excitement. He folded the note, pulled some coins from his pocket, put them on the table and raced out of the café.

  San Diego, California

  The weekend hunting trip had been just what Cassidy needed. He hated to see it end but all good things must.

  He had prepped all his responses for the hypothetical questions he was certain he’d receive concerning the Facebook post. His bravado on Saturday was now gone. He wanted to keep his job and was ready to give a mea culpa.

  Over and over he ran different scenarios until he pulled into the parking lot of the school. Even as he made the two-hundred-yard walk from his car to the front office, he played out what he imagined would happen. He practiced the various ways he’d apologize and kept reminding himself to make sure his facial expressions matched.

  He strolled into the front office.

  There he was greeted by Amy, the principal’s assistant. “Hi, Trevor.”

  The other two women in the office looked up briefly then tore their gazes away.

  Oh, shit, it must be bad, Cassidy thought.

  “Kathy’s waiting for you. Go ahead,” Amy said, pointing at the principal’s closed door.

  Cassidy went up and knocked.

  “Come in,” Kathy said.

  He opened the door. The first thing he saw was a uniformed police officer from the San Diego Police Department. Maybe they were having another meeting. Then he saw the man, the Muslim-looking man he had referred to the police, sitting next to the police officer.

  “Trevor, please, come take a seat,” Kathy said with a smug grin.

  She and the other two were sitting at a small circular table in her office.

  Now his being summoned made sense.

  Cassidy took a seat opposite the man.

  “Trevor, you’re probably wondering why I called you in early,” Kathy said, her hands clasped in front of her on the table and on top of a manila folder.

  He looked at her then the other two. “I think I have a good idea.”

  “Then I’ll just get down to it. Did you send this letter to Sergeant Haggen?” Kathy said opening the folder and handing him a copy of the very letter he did send.

  “Yes.”

  “After you came to me with your unfounded suspicions and after I told you to drop it, as we don’t practice racial profiling, you took it upon yourself, as a representative of the school, to go and do just what I forbade you to do.”

  “Yes,” Cassidy answered, his stomach knotting up.

  “Why? Why would you do that?”

  “Because I saw this man here observing the school for two weeks,” he answered.

  “Have you taken it upon yourself to report everyone you see drive past the school and park near it?” Kathy asked rhetorically.

  “He is a single man who is constantly around the campus. I’ve seen him six times parked in clear view of the front of the school. I’ve watched him watch us,” Cassidy said, defending himself.

  “I ask you again, have you reported others? Or just him because of his ethnicity?” she asked.

  Cassidy clenched his jaw.

  Kathy sighed and looked at the man. “Mr. Basher was confronted at his place of work and humiliated on Friday by San Diego police officers because of your letter implicating him as a potential terrorist. After the fine officers talked with him, they concluded that Mr. Basher is no such thing. He works nearby and happens to park so he can enjoy a cigarette before arriving at work.”

  Cassidy just wanted to yell what kind of bullshit answer is that?

  “The police did run a background, and Mr. Basher is clean, no records, not even a traffic ticket.”

  “You see, I told my coworkers I quit, but I just can’t seem to be able to. I’m embarrassed.”

  “Please, Mr. Basher, no need to justify your actions. It’s Mr. Cassidy here that does,” Kathy said warmly.

  “I’m sure he’s just doing what he feels best,” Basher said.

  “Please accept my apologies,” Kathy said. She looked at Cassidy and said, “Trevor, you also owe Mr. Basher an apology.”

  “Where are you from?” Cassidy asked.

  Kathy’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in shock.

  “Yemen.”

  Cassidy grinned.

  “That’s enough, just apologize to Mr. Basher,” Kathy snapped.

  “I’m not sure if I can apologize for protecting this school and all the kids here. I see something that looks suspicious and I say something. Aren’t we supposed to be doing that, see something, say something?”

  “Yes,” the police officer replied.

  “That’s not what this is. You racial profiled Mr. Basher for no other reason than because he looked Muslim,” Kathy snarled.

  “Correct and I’ll do it again,” Cassidy said defiantly.

  Kathy clasped her hands again and squeezed them tight. “Mr. Basher, again, please accept the apologies of Hacienda Elementary.”

  “Thank you,” Basher said, a slight grin on his face.

  “Thank you for coming down, Lieutenant Holden. I’m sure you could be doing more productive things,” Kathy said.

  Basher and Holden stood.

  “Good day to you,” Kathy said, shaking their hands.

  The two men left.

  Cassidy got up to leave but was stopped.

  “Trevor, close the door,” Kathy ordered.

  He did as she said and turned around.

  “Trevor, I’m afraid I have to let you go, effective immediately. Your actions are inexcusable, downright outrageous and offensive to the diversity we’re trying to instill in the children here. We don’t tolerate bigotry and refuse to manifest a culture of fearmongering. Go empty out your office and leave campus.”

  Anger welled up inside him. He wanted to scream but he knew that would only lead to him being arrested and that was the last thing he needed. He nodded and said, “Okay.” He turned around and exited her office.

  Outside, he caught sight of Basher getting into his car.

  Basher looked up and saw Cassidy staring. He began to nod slowly as a grin began to stretch across his face. He lifted his hand and waved.

  C
assidy scowled. He knew Basher was mocking him.

  As Basher drove off, Cassidy swore he’d find a way to prove he was right.

  Rancho Bernardo, California

  Malik ran up to Mo. “Big news, big fucking news!”

  Mo looked at the passing students all rushing towards homeroom so they could make it before the bell. “I haven’t seen you this happy since you got laid.”

  “This is better.” Malik smiled.

  “Better than getting laid? This must be good,” Mo joked.

  “Kareem likes you. He wants to bring you in!” Malik said enthusiastically.

  Mo looked around, nervous that others might hear. “Ssh, don’t tell the whole school.”

  “We’re having another meeting tonight. I hear things are moving up and that they’ve identified a target,” Malik said.

  Nervous, Mo pulled Malik aside and said, “You need to be quiet.”

  Malik laughed. “Fuck them, they won’t do anything. Cowards all of them.” Malik raised his hand and gave people walking by the middle finger.

  Lowering Malik’s arm, Mo warned, “Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

  “Can you believe it, brother? Soon we’ll strike at the heart of the fucking infidels. If we’re lucky, we’ll die a glorious death and be taken to heaven.”

  “I can’t go,” Mo said.

  “But you must go. Either you’re in or not,” Malik said.

  “My dad is home,” Mo said.

  “Fuck him. Plus, I heard your mom supports this, right?”

  “I’m still freaked out about that. I just never imagined my mom would say, ‘Hey, son, go join a terror cell and become a martyr.’ So fucking weird.”

  “Who knew our mothers would be the ones with balls.” Malik laughed.

  Mo chewed on his lip nervously. His eyes darted over his shoulder to ensure no one was eavesdropping. “I’ll be there, but if I’m late, you’ll know my dad busted me.”

  “You’ll be fine. Gotta run. Be there, okay?” Malik said pushing Mo out of the way. He raced down the hall and turned around. “Just think about fucking all those virgins in heaven!” he hollered as he moved his hips back and forth.