“Mike,” said Buster, “I can’t tell you how important this is for our country. Welcome to the modern world, my fellow patriot.”
“As I said at the start of this meeting, Buster, I’ve fucking had it.”
Chapter 71
After Bushariff left, we stayed in the conference room to debrief the meeting with our new friend.
“Well, Bennie,” I said, “did our guest make it past your bullshit detector okay?”
“The guy’s for real. He’s one of those people who suddenly got enlightened and had an epiphany. I think we have an important player on our side. All he has to do is keep his ears and eyes open, and tip us off when he learns something.”
“And keeping our new friend Mike from getting whacked is a high priority,” I said.
“Yes, and let’s move carefully,” said Buster. “He seems honestly passionate about helping us, but he’s not a trained spy. I’d like to use him to feed our database with information from around the country. Like you, Rick, I don’t want to see this guy’s passion get him into trouble. He’s too valuable. He’s also a good guy. Let’s hope that Mike can lead us to some more Mikes.”
“I wonder if he knows anything about the safe house in Tenafly,” I said.
“I doubt it,” said Buster. “Imam Mike is an observer, not a management insider.”
Chapter 72
Siddiqi knocked on my door.
“Madam Bellamy, it’s time for another video message.”
Siddiqi was nothing if not polite. I guessed it was because he was on our side.
“I wonder when the temperature will get warmer,” he said, code for, ‘the time will come soon.’
I supposed that should have made me happy, but it gave me a knot in my stomach. Things would soon get violent, and the closest I ever came to combat was when I kicked a nasty little dog that tried to bite my ankle.
Siddiqi led me down the hallway to the small room where I had found the gun. It seemed the jihadi production company decided to use that room as the new studio for making our videos. The room, I noticed last time, had no listening or viewing devices on the walls or the ceiling. It was bug free as best I could tell.
Siddiqi opened the door and led me in. The video cam was set up on the tripod, but the operator wasn’t in the room yet.
Siddiqi leaned over to me and said in a soft voice, “You can call me Smitty. Everyone else does – well everyone on our side.” He then whispered, “They’re planning an attack soon. It will be handled by Navy SEALs. There may be a lot of gunfire. Make sure you and the MacPherson ladies lay low when I give you the word. I’ll let you know as soon as it’s firmed up. The only thing that can slow it down at this point is snow, which is forecast for the next few days.”
The video operator came into the room. I expected him to hand me my script in the normal hilarious English. But apparently the script writer found a new job, maybe spraying graffiti on subway cars.
“You will talk in your own voice,” said the producer, who spoke decent English. “I remind you not to say anything out of the ordinary. Just say hello and tell your husband how well you are being treated.”
I was ready for my close up and began.
“Hello, Rick. I miss you. Everything is okay here. I am being treated well. It’s a beautiful day here in Yemen. I saw on the news that they’re expecting an early snow in the New York area. I know how much you hate snow because it slows you down. But I remember that time in Central Park when it was snowing and you and I watched the seals in the pond. We were amazed at how tough the seals were, frolicking in the snow. But cheer up, honey, it will eventually melt and you can go forward with your plans.[AB32] I still miss my dog Fiddles. He’s such a loyal dog, always willing to help me. Well, bye for now, Rick. I’m wide awake after my nap[AB33], so I think I’ll get some exercise. Love you.”
My producer moved his finger across his throat, which I interpreted as a signal to wrap up my broadcast. How apt for him to use a symbol of violence, I thought.
The producer folded up the tripod, hung the camera around his neck and left the room. He yelled something in Arabic to Smitty, who came back into the room to escort me back to my apartment.
“Be careful, Mrs. Bellamy,” Smitty whispered.
“You too, Smitty.”
I had a feeling that something was going to happen soon. I think Smitty felt the same way.
Chapter 73
I called Buster and Bennie to my office as soon as I downloaded Ellen’s latest video to my iPad.
“I want you guys to see this as I’m seeing it. I didn’t want to give it an editorial spin. Here goes.”
I propped up my iPad so Buster and Bennie could see it and hit play.
“Hello, Rick. I miss you. Everything is okay here. I am being treated well. It’s a beautiful day here in Yemen. I hope it doesn’t snow where you are. I know how much you hate snow because it slows you down. But I remember that time in Central Park when it was snowing, and you and I watched the seals in the pond. We were amazed at how tough the seals were, frolicking in the snow. But cheer up, honey, it will eventually melt and you can go forward with your plans.[AB34] I still miss my dog Fiddles. He’s such a loyal dog, always willing to help me. Well, bye for now, Rick. I’m wide awake after my nap, so I think I’ll get some exercise. Love you.”
Buster looked at me. “That’s one tough broad you married, Rick.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Bennie.
“Okay, let’s dissect this,” I said as I wiped sweat off my forehead.
“First thing I noticed is that she talked about snow and how it can slow down plans. She’s letting us know that she gets it.”
“And her comment about the seals and how tough they were frolicking in the snow,” said Buster. She’s telling us that she knows the plan involves SEALs – and she doesn’t give a fuck whether it snows or not.”
“And notice that she said she was wide awake after her nap,” I said. “That’s code from our novel, meaning, ‘I’m ready.’ And her comment about her imaginary dog Fiddles blew my mind. Remember, Fiddles is an AK-47. She commented that ‘Fiddles’ is such a loyal dog, always ready to help—always ready to help.”
“Rick,” said Bennie, “your lovely wife just told us that she’s good to go.”
Chapter 74
At 7 p.m. on December 14, we all met at Colonel Drury’s house for what would be our final planning meeting before the raid on the safe house. I sipped milk, about the only substance I seemed able to keep down. I like to think of myself as a tough guy, a guy who can take a hit and hit back harder. I’m a former Marine, combat tested, and I’m an FBI agent with a caseload of rough stuff. Bullshit. I was a fucking wreck. Ellen is the most important person in my life, and she’d soon to be involved in a gun fight. I thought it was time for some leadership and guts, and the person who needed it most was me.
All of us, including Bennie who served as a combat physician with the Army, are former military men. I think Leo is happy with that. I know Colonel Drury likes it. I noticed that we’d been addressing one another by our former military titles, or present title in the case of Lt. Leo. At first I thought this was kind of dumb, but then I realized it was a way to remind ourselves about what would soon happen – a violent military confrontation, one that required strict discipline.
“Gentlemen,” said Lt. Leo, “today is Monday, 12 December. I want to launch the raid on Tuesday of next week, 20 December. The moon phase will give us maximum darkness. But we may have a problem. The weather forecast is for moderate to heavy snow on Tuesday night. If that happens, I’m going to put off the raid.”
“But the long-term forecast calls for possible snow almost every day for the next six days,” said Colonel Drury. “It’s also supposed to be unseasonably cold for the next few weeks. If that stuff starts to pile up, we’re looking at a steadily degrading situation. You’re the boss of this operation, lieutenant, but I just wanted to share some of my thoughts.”
�
�Colonel, I hear you, and believe me I’m listening. I’m not only listening, I’m open for suggestions. Let’s talk about it.”
“Here’s one way of looking at it,” I said, sipping my milk, “if they’re suspecting a possible attack, and according to Smitty they’re not, they wouldn’t expect it under bad weather conditions. Remember Eisenhower agonizing about D-Day. The weather was bad, but he knew that one thing on his side was surprise. Don’t SEALs have white camouflage uniforms?”
“Yes, we do have white uniforms, specifically for snow operations. As I said, I’ve checked the moon for December 20 and it will be a new moon, meaning that it will be as dark as possible. When Smitty turns off the lights, we’ll have plenty of darkness, except for the snow.”
“Another thing to consider,” said Buster, “if we go on Tuesday and it does snow, the stuff will be powdery, not caked with ice. If the long-term forecast holds true, the situation will worsen rather than improve for the next few weeks.”
I almost felt sorry for the young lieutenant. The guy couldn’t be much over 32 years old, and his shoulders carried more weight than they should for a man of his age. But he was the commander of the operation and the decision was his. He walked over to the pot of coffee, obviously trying to buy some time. He filled his cup and came back to the gathering. He set his cup down and put his hands on his hips.
“Okay, it’s a go. Next Tuesday at 0230, snow or no snow.”
We all stood and applauded, fist pumped the air, and cheered. My stomach wasn’t in complete agreement, but I knew that it was the right choice. Lt. Leo smiled and let out a long breath.
The raid would begin soon. And my Ellen would be in the middle of a firefight.
Chapter 75
I’ve got to stop saying to myself that I can’t believe this. I really have to stop thinking that I’m a just a peaceful architect and I don’t need this crap. It’s time to channel some of my husband’s courage. A raid is going to happen, and it’s going to happen soon.
I also realized that it was time to bring Margo and Jane into the loop. They didn’t understand my code, like Smitty, so I had to communicate with them in writing, lest the camera and microphone bugs suspect something.
I walked into the living room of our suite. Margo and Jane were reading and chatting. I held a Scrabble game under my arm that I found in the closet of my room.
“How about a game of Scrabble?” I asked.
“I’d love to, hon, but I’m trying to finish this book,” said Margo. “Maybe tomorrow.”
I walked over to Margo, bent over and drilled my eyes into hers. I really didn’t have any idea how to “drill eyes,” but I’d seen Meryl Streep do it in a movie, so I figured I’d try being an actress. It worked. Margo realized, apparently, that it was important to play Scrabble – now. She and Jane stood up and walked over to the card table in the middle of the room.
“This is going to be a different kind of Scrabble game,” I said, making it up as I went along. “It’s called Cheater’s Scrabble,” whatever the hell that is, I thought. “Each of us will spy on the person to our left, and pass a written note to the person on our right, saying what we think the next word will be. It’s a lot of fun.” (Even though I never heard of it before.)
We all drew our tiles.
“Looks like I go first.” I didn’t draw the high tile, but Margo and Jane were starting to get what I was up to.
I passed the first note to Margo on my right.
“A Navy SEAL platoon is going to raid this place any day now. The plan is for us to remain in this room when the shooting starts. Siddiqi is an inside operative and he’s on our side. I call him Smitty. He’ll alert me and I’ll tell you two.”
“Oh, I’ve got a great word,” I said, for the benefit of the wall bugs.
“Do we have a weapon of any kind?” Margo wrote, slipping the note to me.
“Yes, I have an assault rifle under my bed. It’s called an AK-47, also known as a Kalashnikov. I’ve been trained how to use it.”
“I’m quite familiar with the AK-47, dear. Do you have an extra clip?” wrote Margo.
Wow, I thought. This lady isn’t afraid to mix it up.
“Yes, I do,” I wrote. “When the raid starts, I’ll keep the rifle trained on the door, and I’ll blast anybody who walks through, except for Smitty or a SEAL.”
“I have to visit the ladies room,” I said, gathering up the notes to flush down the toilet[AB35].
When I returned, Margo wrote, in her patrician way of communicating, “And what weapon shall I use? A Stern Look of Disapproval?”
“There’s a baseball bat over there in the corner,” wrote Jane. “I was captain of the women’s softball team at Princeton. I can swing a mean bat.”
“Stay crouched behind furniture, Jane,” I wrote. “A bat isn’t much good against bullets.”
“I assume the raid will be at night,” wrote Margo.
“Yes, it will be in the wee hours of the morning. I suggest that you do like I’ve been doing, and practice sleeping during the day.”
“I must have had too much coffee this morning. I have to pee again,” I said, gathering up the notes[AB36].
When I returned to the table, Margo wrote, “Is my husband aware of this?”
“I have no idea. All I know is that it’s going to happen.”
“Is there anything we can do to help,” wrote Margo. “We have one gun and one baseball bat among the three of us. Surely we can do something.”
“What we have to do,” I wrote in all caps, “is follow orders from Smitty or the SEALs. They know how to pull off something like this. We don’t.”
“I notice you two have strong bladders,” I said. Just me bouncing up and down to visit the ladies could look suspicious, I thought.
“Thanks for reminding me, dear. I think I shall pee,” Margo said as she gathered up the latest notes.
We finished the Scrabble game. Jane won, or so I announced to the sensing devices.
“I’m tired,” said Margo. “I think I shall retire.”
“Hey, it’s only midnight,” I said. “How about another game?” I gave Margo my newly- discovered Meryl Streep eye drill.
“You’re right, Ellen. Late night is a wonderful time for games,” said Margo. “I’ll keep score.”
Although I didn’t know it at the time, our game playing would soon come to an abrupt end.
Chapter 76
Imam Muhammed Bushariff, our new friend Mike, called this morning on a secure line we provided him, and asked to meet me in a small cafe in lower Manhattan. We had agreed that it was a bad idea for him to visit any of us at FBI headquarters. He said he had something urgent to tell me.
I walked into the cafe and looked around for Mike. He wasn’t there. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man wave to me. The guy was wearing a Yankees cap backwards, along with a Yankees jacket over a jogging suit, and a pair of wraparound sunglasses. Holy shit. It was Mike. This guy would make a good spook, I thought.
“Rick,” said Mike in a soft voice, “there’s a guy I have to tell you about. I didn’t think he was in the United States, but he is. The name is Ali Bashara, but he now goes by the name he was born with, Phillip Murphy. He’s one of the homegrown radicals you guys worry about. Not only is he homegrown, but he’s in charge of handling all the native terrorists in the country. He’s the reason your database is starved for information. From what people have told me, he’s with al-Qaeda, but his roots are in ISIS. I last heard about him a few years ago, but now he’s surfaced big time.”
“What more can you tell me about this guy?”
“Rick, he’s a ruthless killer, as bad as they come. Even radical turds that I talk to from time to time are afraid of this guy. From what I’ve heard, he kills for the thrill of it, not for any religious or ideological reason. He just loves to kill, and he’s good at it. His specialty, from what people have told me, is beating and killing women. I heard a story, confirmed by two people, that he once beheaded a woman in fr
ont of her family because her hair wasn’t covered. This guy is bad. And now he’s back here in the States.”
“Do you have any idea where this woman-killer is located, Mike?”
“All I know is that he’s somewhere in Tenafly, New Jersey.”
“Excuse me, Mike. I have to visit the men’s room.”
I barfed until I thought my body would run out of fluid. A notorious woman murderer is holed up in the same house as my Ellen and the MacPherson women. I splashed cold water on my face and dried it off. I smacked myself a few times to try to get some color back into my face before I returned to our booth.
“Anything else, Mike?”
“Yes, but I have no idea what this is about. I’ve heard snippets of conversations that Bashara, aka Phillip Murphy, has something to do with a plot involving shopping malls. That’s all I can tell you. I’ll let you know when I hear more.”
As we walked to the door after our meeting, Mike turned to me and said, “Be careful, Rick, and be careful with your family. This scumbag would love to chop off your head.”
We shook hands, after which I returned to the bathroom to throw up again.
Chapter 77
“Brother Ali, you wish to see me, sir?” said Smitty.
“Yes, and do not call me brother Ali, or even Ali. My name is Phillip Murphy, and you are to remember that. Do I make myself understood?”
“Yes, br…I mean Phil.”
“I have noticed,” said Bashara/Murphy, “twice in the past week alone, that two of our women guests have been seen with their heads uncovered by their veils. On one occasion, the Bellamy woman was seen wearing Western clothing, not even covered by her burqa. This must stop immediately. The next report that I hear about this immodesty, a severe beating will be in the offing and I shall personally handle the chore. They’re too valuable to kill, but if I deliver a beating, they will wish they were dead. I want this warning to come from you, not me. As one of their handlers, you will be the one to deliver the message. I am serious, Siddiqi, deadly serious.”
The Shadows of Terror Page 14
