The Secret Service was compromised along with the local FBI, Police and CIA. It was apparent that Stewart, myself, and the small group of people he had assembled, must take the necessary actions to prevent this disaster.
There was a printer beside the computer on the desk. I made copies of the documents, folded them, and placed them in my pocket.
I carefully replaced the items in the safe exactly as they were, locked it, and hung the picture on the wall over the safe.
After looking through the peephole in the front door and seeing no one in the hall, I opened the door and moved the cleaning cart into the hallway. I quietly closed the door, making sure it was locked. It was urgent that I get to my vehicle and call Agent Stewart.
I moved quickly to the elevator and pushed down. A few agonizing moments later, the door opened. I entered the empty elevator and pushed lobby.
The elevator dinged and the door opened. Speaker of the House Gilbert Herbert Stockman stood in front of the door. He stared at me and squinted his eyes. I looked down and said, “Excuse me Sir.”
“Wait,” he said, and grabbed my arm. “Do I know you?”
Gus yelled from the reception desk, “Clean the bathrooms. I don’t want anymore complaints from visitors.”
Stockman released my arm. I nodded and walked away. He stared at me again, and got on the elevator.
I knew that I couldn’t raise suspicion, so I cleaned the bathrooms on the lobby level and swept the floors. That took about forty-five minutes. Bernie dosed off again. I replaced the cleaning cart in the closet and left the building.
I drove the van around the block and parked at the back of the same McDonalds. When I unlocked the back of the van and got in, Bernie was lying still. At first I thought he had passed out, but when I touched his shoulder, his eyes flew open.
I ripped the tape from his mouth. “Okay Bernie, we’ve got to work this out.”
“Do what you want, I quit this damn job,” he said.
I grabbed a box cutter from the toolbox and cut his hands loose. I pulled the pistol from my back pocket and handed him the box cutter. “Cut your feet loose,” I ordered. He obeyed.
I reached into my wallet, fished out another two hundred dollars and handed it to him.
“You’ve been good so here’s a bonus. Remember what I said. If you mention what happened to anyone, you’ll be dead within twenty four hours and so will your family.”
“I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing,” Bernie replied in a quivering voice. “Just let me go and you’ll never hear from me again. Take the damn van. Just let me out of here.”
“Okay, go Bernie.” He opened the back door of the van and got out. The last I saw of Bernie was him running as fast as he could down the street. I left the van in the lot, locked it up, and threw the keys in the weeds behind the restaurant parking lot.
I walked around the block, got into my Lexus and drove back to the hotel. As soon as I got back into the room, I pulled the papers out of my pocket, grabbed my cell phone and punched in Agent Stewart’s number.
All hell was breaking loose and I was in the middle of it. The situation looks out of control and impossible to contain.
“Stewart here,” he answered.
Chapter 63
The Controller was still thinking about the man with the cleaning cart as he punched in the code and entered his condo. He had an uncanny feeling that he knew the man, not the face, but the eyes looked very familiar.
When he stepped into the condo the first thing that caught his attention were wheel tracks on the carpet at the door. He stood there for a moment, and then rushed to the study. Everything appeared just as he had left it. He removed the picture and opened the safe. Everything was perfectly in place. He quickly checked the papers, money and the diamonds. Nothing was out of order, but that didn’t explain the wheel tracks at the door.
He though about going to the lobby to confront the cleaning fellow, but his secured cell phone rang. “Code 4387,” the familiar voice said, and hung up. The Controller knew that was Aalim’s code. He punched in the number of The Chosen One.
“Yes my son.”
“I have one special request my Leader. I know that all of the explosive devices, the van, and the nuclear weapon are secured at the Aberly, 16th street Washington mosque. Abdul Moham Islick has requested to pick up the van on the 18th and keep it at his home. He will drive it to the Pentagon as scheduled. The van cannot be secured inside the mosque, and he’s concerned that it may appear conspicuous parked outside the mosque for several days.”
“He is a trusted friend and I approve the request,” the Controller responded. “What is his address so I can make note of it in the event something happens.”
“239 South Windsor Avenue, apartment 3A. He has a private parking place just outside his door.”
The Controller wrote a note, Van bomb to 239 South Windsor Avenue, apartment 3A for Pentagon from the Aberly mosque. He momentarily left the note on the desk in the study to later be placed in the folder in the safe.
He hung up, proceeded to the bar and mixed a double vodka martini. He sat down and sipped it. He had come to the condo to have his last tryst with Rita prior to the Magnificent Event. He needed the relaxation. He glanced at his watch. She should arrive at any minute. The final meeting with the Leaders was less than eighteen hours away.
He called the desk and told Gus that when Ms. Stennis arrived to send her up.
Rita arrived about ten minutes later. He prepared her a drink and they retired to the bedroom. He didn’t notice the look of stark fear in her eyes.
He was totally focused on rough sex.
Chapter 64
After placing the phone call to inform Senator Roberts of the new information acquired from the female Informant, Agent Stewart went back to the hospital room of Director Stancil. Agent Garcia and the other agents were in the waiting area outside the door. Stancil was on the phone and waved Stewart in.
When he hung up, he turned to Stewart. “That call was from Ms. Harris, my informant. She’s on the way to Stockman’s condo. He demanded her company immediately. She’s afraid he’s on to her and that this unexpected call is to confront her. I tried to calm her, but to no avail. She’s afraid for her life. If we send anyone over there we could blow the deal and maybe cause the terrorist to act earlier than planned. They could detonate that nuclear weapon anywhere.”
Before he could respond, Stewart’s cell phone rang. The caller ID informed him that the call was from Michael Roberts. “Excuse me Director, this is from Roberts.”
He walked to the far side of the waiting room.
“Yes Michael.” He stood motionless for ten minutes listening to the information that Roberts secured from the Controller’s safe. He was astonished when Roberts read the names of the participants and attendees of the January 18th planned meeting. His face drained of blood as he heard the terror attack locations. Stewart jerked out a note pad and made furious notes.
“Michael, take a picture of each document with your phone and email them to me immediately. I need to cover the information with the Director and plan our course of action.”
Roberts reply was, “Will do right away.”
“Michael, we have another problem. The informant is on her way to Stockman’s condo. She thinks that he’s figured out that she’s been selling information and is going to kill her. She is our primary witness against him. We can’t send police or Agents there for fear of causing the immediate detonation of the bombs, especially the nuclear device.”
He listened to Robert’s reply. “No Sir, that’s too dangerous. I don’t know how you can get by the guard at the desk anyway.”
He listened again, “Okay let me know immediately what happens. With the information you’ve provided, my Agents and I need to locate the mosque where the devices are located. There are five mosque’s in Washington DC and another eighteen in the general area. We don’t have much time to narrow it down. If we attempt to search each on
e, the word would be out after the first search, and the attacks may be executed immediately. We need more information or we’re dead.” Roberts said something else and hung up. Stewart rushed to the Director’s bedside with the stunning report.
Just as he finished the update, his cell phone rang.
“Gerry, this is Ethan Tyler. Just wanted to update you. Alexander and Maria Debue just boarded a United flight to DC. I’ll be in the plane with them. By the way, Maria is not his daughter, she’s his wife.”
“Ethan, I know where they’re going. There’s a meeting here in DC for the evening of January 18th. I’m sure they’ll be attending. Stay with them and I’ll be in touch.”
Chapter 65
I hung up the phone and thought about the situation. Stewart thought it was too dangerous to go back to Stockman’s condo. He had no way of knowing my contempt for the man who probably ordered the murder of my wife, who put my daughter and I through mortal hell, and is attempting to take down the government of the USA.
Three things I need to accomplish. One is to definitely determine that he in fact ordered the death of my wife, and make him pay with my bare hands.
Two is save the life of the Informant who will be needed to nail the bastard and his cohorts.
The last and most important thing is to get from him the location of the mosque, which is housing the explosive devices that are to be used in the terror attacks. Stewart made it clear that any movement on his part to search mosques could result in early implementation of the terror plot.
As I see it now, everything is up to me.
I dressed in the cleaning coverall’s, and stuck the gun in the back pocket. I checked my disguise . . . put on the glasses, and straightened the fake mustache. I grabbed the cane and left the hotel room.
When I arrived at the Hampton Row Condo Condo building, I parked across the street. The cleaning van was still parked in the reserved space in front of the building.
I called information and got the lobby phone number, exited the Lexus and walked to the corner of the building to the left of the front door. I punched in the number and it rang three times.
“Hampton Row, this is Gus.”
“Hi Gus, this is Jack Scott of Capital Cleaning Services. I just wanted to check with you to see if my man got there and completed the job.”
“Yea he showed up but left without vacuuming and mopping the lobby. This guy said Bernie was ill. Jack, he was a strange dude.”
“Gus, he hasn’t returned with the cleaning van.”
“The van is still in the reserved area and it needs to be moved Jack.”
“If you can do me a favor, I’ll make it worth your while,” I replied.
“How much and what?” Gus asked.
“I’ll spot you a twenty if you’ll check the van for me. He was supposed to make a deposit at the bank, and it hasn’t been done. Can you check to see if the bank bag is in the van? If so, hold it for me and lock the van. I’ll personally pick it up in a couple of hours and pay you.”
I was hoping Gus would buy this flimsy story.
“No problem,” Gus said. “I’ll check it right now. Just sweeten the pot and stop by and bring me a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts.”
“No problem,” I said, and watched the front door. Gus came out immediately and went to the van. As soon as he was facing away from me, I sprinted to the door and went in. I ran to the stairway and up to the third floor.
The hallway was empty. I stood in front of the Controller’s door, listening. I could hear the faint sounds of music. I punched in the code and slowly opened the door, not knowing what to expect.
The living area was empty. The music was coming from the back of the condo, probably the bedroom area. Carefully closing the door and keeping my eyes on the area from where the music was coming, I stepped forward. Something turned beneath my foot causing me to lurch forward and fall to the floor. I broke the fall with my hands, but still made noise. I looked back at the object that tripped me. A pair of red high heel shoes lay askew on the floor. The informant must have taken off her shoes when she arrived.
I got up and knelt behind the couch. No one entered the room and the only sound was the soft music. Maybe he was occupied and didn’t hear me, I thought. I grabbed the revolver from my back pocket and crept forward. The door in the back left side of the condo stood half open. I knew that was the bedroom from my trip earlier. I proceeded to the wall beside the door and peered inside through the crack.
A half naked red-headed woman lay on the bed. From my vantage point I couldn’t see what was beside her. I assumed that Stockman was there.
“Time to roll,” I murmured beneath my breath, and burst into the room, pointing the gun toward the bed. The woman screamed. She was alone on the bed. I felt the pressure of cold steel against my neck.
“Drop the gun,” Stockman demanded.
I obeyed. “Turn around,” he rasped.
I turned to face him. He stood there dressed in a robe holding a .45 caliber Smith and Wesson with a silencer attached.
“Who in the hell are you and what are you doing here?”
If I said the wrong thing I would be dead, so I remained silent.
Stockman looked closer at me. He reached over and jerked off my glasses. “Those eyes look familiar to me,” he said.
“Listen Stockman, people know I’m here. If you shoot me the FBI will arrive within minutes.”
He looked confused, and took a deep breath. “I would recognize that voice anywhere. I heard you go on and on with your speeches on the Senate floor and in your campaign ads. You son of a bitch Roberts, you survived one time but you won’t survive this.”
“Did you order my wife’s murder?”
“Collateral damage,” he snickered. “In the scope of things, her life was like a grain of sand on the beach.”
A gasp came from the other side of the room. The red-haired lady was standing there motionless, staring at us.
“Wait a minute,” Stockman barked. “The only other person who knew the front door lock combination was you Rita. This bastard used the combination to get in. Are you with him?”
“Of course not honey,” she murmured. “I don’t know him.”
“You slimy little bitch,” he said, pointing the gun toward her.
In that instant, while he was looking at her, I kicked him in the groin. He grunted and bent over. I chopped his wrist, and the gun fell to the floor.
I followed with a left uppercut to the midsection and a straight right hand to the temple. As he fell backwards, his head crashed against the corner of the dresser with a sickening thud. Blood spirited from his scalp as he crumpled to the floor with his neck at an abnormal angle.
I ran over to check on the Redhead. She was breathless.
“Is he dead?” she whispered.
I moved to his body. As soon as I got there I knew he was dead. There was a deep wound on his scalp with blood seeping out of it, and his neck was broken. I checked, but no pulse.
I looked down at the lifeless body of the man who ordered my wife murdered. He had destroyed my daughter’s life and mine. He also was in the process of destroying the country that I loved so dearly. I felt no remorse, and was glad that the world was rid of this evil monster.
I shook my head, and looked over at the woman.
“Lady, you need to get dressed and get out of here. If you mention this to anyone, you’ll be an accessory to murder. I know you’re an Informant. Don’t call anyone, just go home.”
She grabbed her clothes, quickly dressed and left without saying a word. Her face was drained of blood as she darted out the door.
I looked around the bedroom wondering what to do next. My plans had been to subdue Stockman and get answers from him by any means possible. Without that possibility, I began to search the condo for any additional information. I grabbed a plastic trash bag and a dishcloth from the kitchen, and returned to the body. He wore nothing but the robe.
I picked up the pistol from the fl
oor beside him; made sure the safety was engaged, and dropped it in the bag. His cell phone was on the end table beside the bed along with a key ring full of keys and his wallet.
I checked the wallet and found nothing useful. I dumped it and the other items into the bag. I wiped my fingerprints from everything I touched with the cloth.
Nothing else of interest was in the bedroom. I proceeded to the living area and kitchen. Nothing helpful was there either.
Next was the study. My first inclination was to open the safe again to see if he had added anything. I put the plastic bag on the desk to do exactly that, when I spotted a note. It was hastily written but clearly legible, “Van bomb to 239 South Windsor Avenue, apartment 3A for Pentagon from the Aberly 16th street mosque.”
I read it over and over again. The only possible interpretation was that a van containing explosives was being moved to the address listed from the Aberly 16th street mosque.
My mind raced, is it possible that the other devises for the terror attack, including the nuclear bomb, are at the Aberly 16th street mosque?
I carefully folded the note and put it in my wallet. I removed the picture on the wall and opened the safe. I removed all the files and dropped them in the bag. I had made copies before, but the originals would be required for court proceedings.
With only hours away from the meeting of all the co-conspirators, I knew I must get this new information to Agent Stewart. I had no way of removing the body or hiding it.
I put the plastic bag in front of the door and walked to the bar. Using the cloth to protect my fingerprints, I filled up a glass with bourbon and water and walked back to the body. I splashed some of the liquid on Stockman’s robe and laid the glass beside his outstretched hand. Maybe when he was discovered, the initial thought would be that he had been drinking and fell, striking his head on the corner of the dresser. Flimsy, but the assumption is entirely plausible.
I engaged the lock on the bedroom door and closed it. Odds are that he cleared his calendar and would not be in touch with anyone prior to the big meeting of his band of cronies at the warehouse.
Lost in the Maze Page 34
