Day of Reckoning

by G. Michael Hopf

  She thought for a moment and replied, “Good idea. Let’s do that.”

  He picked up the rose and placed it again between his teeth. He leaned in and rubbed her nose with it.

  She giggled, looked over his shoulder, then back into his eyes and asked, “Are you trying to get some?”

  “Let me think…ahh, hell yes.”

  “Go lock the door. We don’t want the boys to walk in on us,” she said.

  He jumped up, shut the door and locked it and climbed back into bed. “So where were we?”

  “You were telling me how sorry you are, now show me,” she said, tossing off the sheets.

  Paris, France

  David rubbed his eyes and stretched. He couldn’t believe he had slept this late.

  Sirens blasted in the distance. A lot of them.

  Curious, he turned on the television. There he saw the news concerning the bombing in Notre Dame. Was this Joram’s doing? Is it a coincidence? Joram is in Paris and now a bombing here too?

  He fell into his cushioned chair and watched the scenes of police and EMS surrounding the iconic cathedral. Memories of Copenhagen came to him. He shook them off. There was a story to document and he was still in his underwear. He bolted for his bedroom and changed.

  With his pack loaded with cameras and all the tech he’d need, he made for the front door. He stopped when he saw the envelope on the floor. He picked it up. There was nothing written on the front. He tore it open, pulled out the single folded paper and read it.

  Meet me at the Carrousel du Louvre, in front of the Golden Arches, tomorrow at 1745. Leave your apartment via the basement laundry room. There’s an emergency exit. Follow it all the way to the end. It exits into the adjacent building. Go through the restaurant and take a cab. Don’t be late. I don’t have much time. I’m being pursued. – Joram

  PS: Backup my interview. Everything you have on me. Put it on a thumb drive and bring it with you. That will be your payment for the final exclusive access. All will be revealed then. If you don’t bring it, don’t bother coming.

  David frantically fumbled trying to unlock his door. He dropped his bag but finally succeeded in getting it open. He stuck his head out and looked in both directions.

  When did he drop this off? Was he seen by Grim?

  He stepped back inside his apartment and closed the door. He reread the note. Emergency exit in laundry room? He’d never heard of it or seen it. He was going to see where this room was. He grabbed his bag and headed out.

  The elevator doors slowly opened. The bright white lights of the basement were almost blinding. He followed the hall until he reached the laundry room. On the wall, a sign was posted with an arrow, EMERGENCY EXIT.

  He followed the signs until it led to a single door. He opened it. A passageway led him to another elevator and a narrow stairwell. Wary of riding the unknown elevator, he climbed.

  At the first level, he found himself in the kitchen of the Café Jardin, a swanky eatery next door to his apartment building.

  “Who are you?” a sous chef asked.

  “Sorry, made a wrong turn. Where’s the exit?” David asked sheepishly.

  The man pointed.

  David went in that direction and soon found himself on the street in front of the café. He looked around. He was a half block from his apartment building and out of sight of anyone possibly watching it.

  A smile creased his face. “You tricky bastard. Always one step ahead.” He saw a cab and hailed it.

  The cab pulled over.

  David jumped in the back.

  “Where to?”

  “Notre Dame.”

  The driver gave him an odd look and mumbled under his breath, “Crazy Americans.”

  Del Mar, California

  The cool ocean air felt good. Brett closed his eyes and faced the crashing waves. “I love the smell of the ocean. Good call on coming to the beach.”

  “Me too, and how awesome that it’s not too packed,” Madison said, taking his hand in hers.

  “Hey, I promise I’ll find balance with my concerns—”

  “Paranoia,” she interrupted.

  “Whatever, and make sure I don’t do what I did the other night,” he finished.

  “I told you the other night, I can understand your paranoia, cough , concerns. Just don’t be so consumed by them,” Madison said softly.

  “Are you afraid to die?” Brett asked.

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “I am, I wasn’t before, I mean, not until they came along,” he said, pointing at the boys playing in the sand.

  “I guess, if I really think about it, I’d be afraid of what would happen to them without a mother,” she said.

  “You said it perfectly. That’s what scares me most of all. Not my own death, but their lives without me in it.”

  “Daddy, let’s go swimming!” Will called out, running towards the surf.

  “Be careful,” Madison hollered.

  Eddie walked up. “Do you have gum in your car?”

  “Yeah, it’s on the top of the console,” Brett answered.

  Before she could say a word, Eddie ran off. “Make sure you get a piece for your brother.”

  “I will,” Eddie cried out.

  “That kid has good ears.” Brett laughed.

  Will jumped around in the crashing waves, laughing and squealing with joy.

  Eddie walked up and said, “Dad, why do you have this in your console?”

  Madison looked and gasped. “Dear God, put that down, now!”

  “What?” Brett looked around and saw Eddie holding a pistol.

  Afraid, Eddie dropped the gun in the sand.

  “Where did you get that?” Madison scolded.

  “It was inside the console,” Eddie whimpered.

  “Brett, Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with you? You had that in the car? You said you were going to lock it up,” Madison barked.

  “I did. I had it in a case, locked in the console,” Brett said defensively.

  “Then how did he get it?” Madison asked. “Eddie, how did you get this?”

  “I saw the box and opened it.”

  Brett grew angry. “That’s impossible, the case was locked.”

  “How dare you have a gun in the car, unlocked.”

  “It was locked.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I was looking for gum and couldn’t find any, so I opened up the console. I saw the box; the lock was just hanging on it, unlocked. I opened it up and found it.”

  “Is it loaded?” Madison hollered.

  “Keep your voice down, Maddy,” Brett snapped, carefully picking up the pistol and hiding it in a beach towel. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Why do you have it, Dad?” Eddie asked.

  “No questions. Go play in the water with your brother,” Madison ordered.

  Eddie stormed off.

  Madison gave Brett a deathly stare as he walked away.

  Back at the car, Brett found the case sitting on the car seat. He put the pistol back in and locked the case. This time he put the case in the trunk. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he mumbled to himself. He knew he left that case locked, he just knew it. He glanced over the trunk and could see Madison still leering at him.

  If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Ever since that damn attack in Copenhagen, the wheels had come off his relationship and his nerves. In just a little over a week’s time he had managed to make Madison angry multiple times and had even gotten himself barred from the school campus. He was not doing well these days and he was sure to hear about this the rest of the day. He slammed the trunk and said, “Looks like it’s the couch again tonight.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Monday, May 1

  San Diego, California

  To avoid the highway shutdowns and gridlock. Mo and the others had left well before dawn.

  Lateef found a quiet place to park the van, nowhere anyone would find it suspicious.

  Mo hated not being able to see out
, something in him wanted to know where he was, which school it was. Not that it mattered because knowing the name wouldn’t prevent the attack. In fact, it would only make it more personal to him, but he didn’t care, he wanted to know.

  How can the others sleep? he asked himself. He glared at each snoring and slobbering face and just wanted to shoot them. Yes, those thoughts entered his mind. What if he just killed them all? He could prevent the attack, but his survival would only highlight to The Bloody Hand who had done it and would most assuredly get his family killed. Not one scenario where he played the hero did he and his family survive. Maybe they should die? Maybe his family, including himself, should sacrifice themselves to save hundreds of innocent children. His thoughts spun and twisted, but each time he settled back to his fate and his life ending at the school.

  Lateef’s alarm on his phone began to beep. He reached out and stopped it. Yawning, he turned around and barked, “Wake up. It’s show time.”

  The others stirred.

  Malik opened his eyes, smiled and said, “Good morning, Mohammed.”

  “Good morning,” Mo replied, his head low.

  “Go over your gear,” Lateef ordered. He had been given the title of cell team leader and took it seriously.

  Everyone, including Mo, did as he said. They counted their magazines, checked the wiring on their explosives, ensuring not to arm them until they exited the van. Each bomber was equipped with a dead man’s trigger. Once armed, the bomber would depress the trigger and hold it; if he released the pressure, the bomb would detonate. This ensured the bomb would go off regardless if the bomber was shot dead.

  “All good?” Lateef asked.

  Everyone acknowledged they were ready.

  “It’s eight forty-five. Let’s get in line for school,” Lateef joked and drove off.

  Paris, France

  David pushed past several slow-walking tourists. “Sorry, in a hurry.”

  He glanced at his watch. It was seventeen forty-five and he was late but not by much. He could see the McDonald’s, or as Joram had referred to it, the Golden Arches. Out of breath and out of time, he made it to the entrance, but looking around, he didn’t see Joram. He walked inside the restaurant, but Joram wasn’t there either. Frantic, he exited and almost ran into him.

  “You’re late,” Joram said.

  “I’m sorry, um, not by much, seconds,” David pleaded.

  “Come, let’s sit,” Joram said and walked to a bench.

  The two sat down.

  Joram cocked his head and asked, “Did you bring what I asked?”

  David reached into his pocket and pulled out the blue thumb drive. He handed it over. “Here. Everything is on there. All the recordings, my notes, everything.”

  Joram held the thumb drive and marveled, “Isn’t it funny how something so small can contain so much information?”

  “Technology.”

  “I love technology. It can be used for good and bad, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, it can.”

  “Look at the splitting of the atom. It can be used to blow up entire cities, killing hundreds of thousands, or it can be used to provide much-needed energy to hundreds of thousands.”

  “It all depends on whose hands it’s in, technology, that is,” David said.

  “Same goes for money. In some hands, it can be used to feed the hungry; in other hands it can be used to murder those same people.”

  David opened his pack and pulled out his digital recorder. He looked around and asked, “Are you sure this is a good place to conduct this interview?”

  Joram smiled. “This is perfect.”

  “Aren’t you afraid you’ll be seen?”

  “No, not really. Soon, they’ll have their hands full.” Joram laughed.

  David clicked the record button and asked, “What do you mean by having their hands full?”

  “Soon a dream that started many years ago will be realized.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “The end of the United States.”

  David recoiled slightly and said, “That’s a big statement.”

  “Oh, it is and it wasn’t easy, but using technology and money, we have devised a weapon so beautiful in its design that once unleashed will spread around the world like one of your teenybopper videos.”

  “You mean go viral?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You sound different. You’re not the same man I met years ago, and you’re not the same man I first encountered in Ankara.”

  “You’ve said that before.”

  “Because it’s true. When I first met you three years ago, you were an idealistic young man, not evil, just misguided. When I again met you in Ankara, you seemed like a hunted man seeking redemption. I felt sympathy for you. Now, I see…” David said but paused.

  “You see what?”

  “You are part of a diabolic scheme to kill many people and you seem happy about it, euphoric.”

  “All of us have schemes; I’m no different.”

  “Yes, you are. Yours is to kill people.”

  “And what are you doing but aiding and abetting me, purely for selfish reasons. You’re willing to risk lives so you can get a scoop, a story that you hope to sell to make millions and receive praise from your friends in the media. And let’s discuss the media, they’re not journalists, they’re propagandists who peddle agenda-driven stories. Do they care about people dying? They say they do, but when U.S. bombs kill our children by the thousands, it’s never reported, but you know what is? Overhyped and outright fake stories so they can drive false narratives to perpetuate whatever the agenda is of their political and corporate overlords. You see, David, none are without sin. They just package it better and smile.”

  “Bravo, that was awesome.”

  “You’re mocking me?”

  David thought for second and defiantly replied, “Yes, I am.”

  “You said I was different, I am different. I was reborn when I went and joined the Islamic State. I was shown the true Islam. And soon, Islam will conquer the Earth.”

  “What the Islamic State preaches is not Islam.”

  Joram laughed. “So blind by your need to be politically correct. I have to say it has helped us, your willingness to look the other way and find excuses. While we killed in the name of Allah, many like you would say we weren’t Islamic and that we were extremists. Do you know how much we have enjoyed watching many of you contort yourselves, doing back bends to make sure what we were doing wasn’t associated with Islam. David, you helped us. You gave us cover. You allowed us to spread.”

  “Stop right there. I did nothing to help you spread, nothing. This is ridiculous.”

  “Is it? Every time we’d attack and kill, many like you would defend Islam, and to prove you weren’t bigoted, you worked against your very own national security interests to allow us to come in, to live among you. David, we didn’t need to sneak into your country, you rolled out the red carpet for us.”

  “What you preach is not Islam.”

  “David, you’re a fool. We follow Mohammed’s teachings and lessons to the letter. You’re so blinded that you don’t even know history. Let me ask you, how did Mohammed spread the word of Allah? Do you know?”

  “Let’s move on.”

  “Answer the question if you know.”

  “This is silly now. Let’s move on to what you have planned.”

  “He spread Islam through conquest. He converted people by the sword and so shall we, although the sword has changed.”

  “Who is Israfil?” David asked.

  “You will meet him very soon,” Joram said, looking at his watch. “David, we don’t have much time. Ask me anything, I will answer.”

  “Are you Israfil?”

  “No.”

  “Are you the twelfth imam?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you planning, is The Bloody Hand planning a major terror attack?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”
r />   “Everywhere.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “Let me go back to the beginning…”

  “Again?”

  “You said I was a different man than you met three years ago and even different than last week. It’s true. Three years ago, you did meet an idealistic man. I was looking for a meaning to my life. I found it in Raqqa. I was reborn there. Allah showed me my path and I chose to take it. Since then I have been working hard to fulfill the dream of a one world caliphate, a world under Allah. Soon, in minutes, in fact, the first strike in a series of strikes will begin. By the end of the day tomorrow, the United States will be on its heels, bleeding out. Within a week’s time, the United States will collapse,” Joram said calmly with a slight grin plastered on his face. “Last week you met a fake me. I needed you to believe I was in need, a hunted man; I needed you to believe I was a victim. It was the only way I thought you’d help me. I was right but I was also bolstered by your own greed and selfishness. I played your sensibilities. Multiple times you have been approached, warned and given specific details that I was up to no good and part of a conspiracy to attack the West. It was all true. If I had shown you the man I have become, would you have been so warm, so inviting? I doubt it. Deep down the political correctness you espouse daily fought with your better judgment, as did your greed. It was a perfect cocktail for you to sit and listen to the ramblings of a terror leader who in mere minutes will launch an attack against the West never seen before.”

  In shock, David stood. “I won’t sit and listen any longer.”

  “Yes, you will. Now sit down. I’m just about to get to the best part.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Oh, but you will, don’t you want to know how I did it? How I beat your system; how I concocted the most lethal bioweapon ever known?”

  David internally struggled. He was disgusted by Joram, but the tease of the big reveal would make for a great story. He relented and sat back down.

  “I told you you’d stay.”