On the Heels of Evil
Page 26
When they got to Room 867, Heggler tried the door and it was locked. Dickens figured that since it was nighttime, the maids weren’t working, and he couldn’t find one to loan him a passkey. He was going to have to go to the front desk to get the spare key. Heggler made a fatal mistake and knocked. For a few seconds he heard scuffling, then without warning, a fusillade of bullets came through the door and wall. The Colonel saw Heggler hit in the throat and chest and go down, felt a sharp pain in his own shoulder – everything went blank.
* * * *
When Kelly got off on the eighth floor, there was a commotion. Several guests were milling around, plus a couple of hotel security guards. “What happened?” Kelly asked. The guards pointed to the man on the floor and the younger one replied, “Someone reported a shooting and we were sent up to check it out.”
“I assume you called 911?” Kelly asked.
The older guard responded, “Yes sir, an ambulance is on the way.” Kelly looked at the crowd and said, “This is national security. The men that did this may be terrorists. Did anyone see anything?”
One man, probably in his late fifties said, “I didn’t see the shooting, but I opened the door a crack and saw the ‘perps.’ Is that what they’re called?” Kelly nodded, and he continued, “They were running toward the stairs.”
Kelly interrupted, “How many?”
“I’m not sure. Seven or eight, maybe.”
“Could you identify them?”
“I think so.”
Fawler came up to Kelly and whispered in his ear. “Heggler is dead, and the Colonel has lost a lot of blood. They’ve called the hospital, they have an O.R. ready. A helicopter will be picking up the Colonel and the medics shortly. I called Mr. Crenshaw and brought him up to date. He’s on his way over here. He wants everyone to wait for him.”
“Fine,” Kelly whispered back. “Is the Colonel awake?”
“Barely. He keeps saying he’s sorry. He asked about the women, and I told him they were okay.”
“I’ll talk to him in a minute. Did you happen to find the pictures we have of the terrorists?”
Fawler dug into his jacket pocket, pulled out the photos, and handed them to Kelly. “One more thing,” Fawler said, “Heggler’s firearm was unfired, but the Colonel had apparently fired at least one and up to four rounds, depending on how many cartridges were in the nine-shot clip. Haman found some blood on the wall near the entrance to the stairs, and from about the next floor down the blood trails down the stairs.”
“So, it appears that the Colonel fired some shots off before he passed out, with the probability that he wounded one or more of his assailants.”
“That’s the way I see it, boss.”
“Well, if they havea wounded member that should slow them down. Get Hayden on the phone for me will you, Rubin? Thanks.”
Kelly went back to his witness and showed him the photos. He asked him if he noticed if any of the men were wounded. No, he didn’t, but he did hear three separate reports after all the shooting appeared to cease. Fawler came over and handed his phone to Kelly. “Listen, Chief, our bombers are making a run for it. One of them is apparently wounded, and I want to start a pursuit.”
“Saleem, this shootout should never have happened, and if it did, we should have outnumbered them first. That’s screw-up number one! Jane and your wife should never have gone up to that hotel room with one of the perps. Or was it two of the perps? We’re not sure yet. That’s screw-up number two! We have a major American city in danger of being annihilated in a little over forty-eight hours, so we can’t screw up again! Is that clear?”
“Hayden, you’re absolutely right, but we can’t sit tight while these would-be bombers are making a run for it.”
“Saleem, shut up and let me finish. Jimmy has come up with the probable vehicles the bombers drove to Vegas. Grab the men you have and get down to the parking garage. I’ll send four cars around to the back for you and your men. There are a couple of nuclear bomb experts here, so I’ll send them along as well. Give this phone back to Fawler so he can get you, Santani, and Haman all on conference call. Get going!”
Santani had shown up, Kelly grabbed him and Fawler. He yelled to Haman, who was about thirty feet ahead, to get going, and they all started running down the stairs. About halfway down the eight flights of stairs, Kelly’s phone rang. It was Hayden setting up the conference call. Kelly noticed that the blood drips on the stairs were increasing in size and quantity as they went down. Haman, who was a couple steps ahead of Kelly, slowed down and indicated to Kelly that there seemed to some kind of disorder in the middle access road to the parking garage, which included a couple of Metro Police cars.
The sun was just beginning to rise three days before Memorial Day. Kelly glanced at his watch and was surprised to discover that it was five in the morning. When they arrived at ground level and exited the building’s emergency staircase, their rides had not yet arrived. The trail of blood seemed to aim straight for the group of people and the two official cars Kelly and Haman had noticed. He told Hayden he was going to see what the uproar was. Hayden said, “Fine, just make sure you don’t break the communication link.”
When they were a few hundred feet away, an ambulance pulled up. Kelly approached the nearest deputy. “Who’s in charge?”
Chapter 7
The Chase
Shayan was bleeding badly. From what Colin had heard, gut shots were painful and usually fatal, especially without quick treatment. Shayan’s odds of surviving were nil, but he could not just leave him. The enemy could question him, and he could not kill a comrade, even though he was sent here to die anyway. No, he would wait for Shayan to die and then drop him off along the side of the highway. What a mess. How did he, a naturalized citizen from Nigeria, get involved with these crazies? At first it was a fellowship in the mosque and then a new imam started preaching against Christians and Jews. Then the real radicals, Ali and Yosef, joined the fellowship. I wonder where they are? How did things get so out of control? America isn’t such a bad country. It’s certainly better than Nigeria. Why do my comrades hate it so much? Why are they my comrades? Here I am alone with Shayan, who is dying, running for my life in a panel truck! What am I supposed to do?
Abu is already dead, left beside that parking garage. Then that lunatic white boy, Rhasheed Amati, shot the elderly man and woman because they saw us. After that, everybody split in two other cars, leaving me with the truck and Shayan. Nobody came with me, probably because I’m black.
He was heading south on Interstate 15 toward home, wondering whether he should just keep going toward Long Beach. They certainly would be watching for him.
* * * *
After Fawler and Santani flashed I.D., one of the officers answered. “I’m Sergeant Reilly. What can I do for you?”
“This is a national security issue,” Kelly said. “I need to know what went down here.”
“You know, we’re not sure. It seems quite peculiar. We have three homicides, an older white male, an older female, and a young Hispanic male. After the shooting, a witness saw seven other males, one white, one black, and five more Hispanics take off in three vehicles. We think they may have been ‘coyotes,’ you know, the gangs that smuggle illegals across the Mexican border. They sometimes get in gunfights with each other.”
“A good guess, Sergeant, but these Hispanics are really Arabs. Did you get descriptions of the perps and vehicles and which way they went?”
Reilly appearing perplexed and scratched his head. “Arabs, huh? I’ll be damned. I didn’t get that far with the descriptions yet. I do know the shooter was the white person, who left, along with two others, in a late-model blue Mustang with California plates. The second car, also with California plates, was older and tan. The last vehicle was a panel truck with a company logo painted on the side. It said Coastal Roto Rooter.”
“Thanks, did your witness see which direction they went?”
“He said they left the parking lot heading west
on Tropicana toward Interstate 15. He thinks the two cars headed north on the interstate but the van either went straight or turned south. He couldn’t be sure.”
Kelly spoke into his phone, “Did you hear that?”
“Yes. Ask him if an APB has been issued and if so, do not try to intercept, just report and keep under surveillance.”
“Is there an APB out, Sergeant?”
“Absolutely, these are dangerous criminals.”
“You don’t how dangerous! We need your department to be passive on this. If you spot them, report their position and keep them under surveillance until we can join you.”
“I can’t issue an order like that. It has to come from my superior.”
Kelly went back to Hayden, “You hear that?”
“Yeah, I’ll take care of it. Have your rides showed up yet? Time’s a wasting.”
“Yes, they arrived a couple of minutes ago, but there’s only three.”
“One had a flat, but since there are only three fleeing vehicles, you’ll be fine. You stay with the panel truck and take your bodyguard with you. Send Fawler after the loose cannon in the Mustang and Santani after the other. I have a helicopter coming, so I’ll be in the air in ten minutes. I’ll be looking for the van also. Oh – one more thing. Take the SUV and one of the bomb experts with you.”
Chapter 8
What a clusterfuck, thought Rasheed Amati, the former Benny Weatherly. Yosef and Ali went gambling and disappeared. One of our men dead, another dying and our group dispersed, out of contact, with no way of getting back together. And worse the cops are on our asses. Man, this is just like Hudson said in the ‘Aliens’ movie, “That's it man, game over man, game over!” I wonder how they found out?
* * * *
Hayden spoke, “Okay, everybody, here’s what we know so far. The now-deceased Yosef Hamadi brought nine associates with him to Vegas. You have photos of all of them. The dead terrorist just outside the parking garage was Abu Adami, known as double-A, a Saudi national on a student visa. It looks like a second terrorist was wounded, one of the Arabs, which one we don’t know for sure. We think it might be another Saudi named Shayan, last name unknown at this time. Yosef’s lieutenant, also now deceased, was named Ali Kafka, an Egyptian, apparently related to Hamadi, who was also an Egyptian. Kafka is wanted in Egypt for questioning in a series of murders and dismemberment. He was killed by a flat instrument beating his broken nose bones into his brain.”
“Wait a minute, Chief. I was there. There were only four people in that room. One had a bullet hole in his head, the two women who didn’t have use of their hands, and Ali himself.”
“Yes, I know. I got the story from Mariam. Jane is unbelievable. I wish we had a thousand like her. She’s out of the O.R. and is resting in the recovery room, expected to make a full quick recovery.”
“That’s fantastic.”
“You know about the Mustang already, being driven by Rasheed Amati. He’s an Anglo convert to Islam. He converted in prison. Lompoc to be exact. He has either one or two passengers, whom we now know, because we caught the two perps who drove off in a ’67 Chevy. Their car broke down on Las Vegas Boulevard North, right across the street from the entrance to Nellis Air Force Base. We had alerted the base thinking they might try something there. They were spotted and arrested. Presently they’re in the brig at Nellis awaiting interrogation. They are Aaqid Safah, a Jordanian and Gilla Khan, a Pakistani. The remaining culprits are Wasim Nihal and Barad Raza, both Saudis. Obviously, the bomb is in the van, and there is no sign of it on Interstate 15, either north or south of Vegas. I’m going to fly to Nellis to interview our captives to see what they know that we don’t.”
“By the way, you didn’t tell me how Jane killed Ali.”
“Sorry. You noticed his mangled arm?”
“Yes I did,” answered Kelly,
“Well, according to our prime witness, your wife, Ali was going to use a garrote to cut off Mariam’s breasts, but Jane kept goading him until he switched his attention to her, whereupon she insulted his manhood by saying that if he tried that on her he was as good as dead. And by God, she did it. He is dead. She got the pervert to try to garrote off her left breast and she bit down on his forearm with everything she had. He cut into her breast all right and almost succeeded, but to use a garrote you have to use both hands. She had a grip on his arm that would make a Gila monster proud, ripping out and gnashing tendons, veins, arteries, and whatever. Finally, he dropped the garrote and started to strangle her with his free right hand. He was getting to her, but she just banged her head straight back into his face and broke his hold on her throat. Then she stood up, still attached to the chair, and swung around counterclockwise as fast and as strong as she could. This knocked Ali down. She kept bouncing the chair legs down repeatedly on his abdomen. You probably didn’t notice, but his entire abdomen was a bloody mess. Then, the ‘coup de grace.’ She fell upon him, chair and all, like a WWF member and proceeded to pound him repeatedly in the face, with the only weapon she had – her forehead. You saw the result.”
Kelly said, “Wow! That’s amazing! What do you want me to do, Chief?”
“Fawler is still chasing Amati, so I’m going to send Santani to back up you and Haman. If I find out anything from my trip to Nellis, I’ll give you a heads up.”
“Okay Chief, sounds good, but we’re after a guy with an A-bomb. It seems like we should have more bodies out than our two cars and your helicopter.”
“Don’t worry about it. I have it handled? All local police departments including Highway Patrol, Henderson, North Las Vegas, and Boulder City are on red alert. We have six choppers going over the entire valley. I also have Jimmy and Sally studying live satellite images of Clark County. We did have a report from the Highway Patrol, that an officer spotted a Coastal Roto Rooter truck on the interstate, near the Blue Diamond cutoff, so you’re heading in the right direction.”
“Sorry, I should have known you were on top of everything. Have you heard anything about the Colonel?”
“Last I heard he was still in the O.R.”
“Thanks for the info, Chief, especially on Jane. It gives me an idea of what she went through.”
“We’re just landing at Nellis. I’ll be back in touch as soon as I have anything. Why don’t you use Haman’s phone to call Jimmy and see if he’s found anything since I last talked to him?”
“Jimmy, it’s Saleem.”
“Glad you called. I was just about to call Mr. Crenshaw. We just received word through the Nevada Highway Patrol that one of their men spotted our suspects on Interstate 15, heading southwest. He couldn’t follow him because he was arresting someone for a speeding and DUI. I guess the state coffers are more important than WMD.”
“Yeah well, speed kills. Do you know whereabouts on I-15? I’m approaching a place called Primm with a turnoff to some place called Goodsprings and Sandy Valley. Where is that in relation to where the van was spotted?”
“The van was spotted near Stateline, which is about another thirty miles down the interstate.”
“Do you have any idea where the perps could be headed?”
“Not really. There aren’t really any turnoffs from I -15 until he gets to Barstow, which is another eighty miles or so. Obviously, if he stays on the interstate, he’ll eventually get spotted. The closer he gets to L.A. the traffic is heavier, the more likely he will be noticed.”
Big deal. He’ll be harder to find and enlarge his kill zone. “Yeah, but don’t forget that he’s heading into a metropolitan area of about twelve million people with a live nuclear bomb. I would have preferred that they stayed in Vegas. Looking for that truck in L.A. will be like looking for a lost diamond in a landfill.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” admitted Jimmy.
“Okay, Jimmy, I just passed through Primm, and I’m on my way to Stateline. How long ago did that truck go through Stateline?”
“About 5:30, so they have thirty miles and thirty minutes on you.”
“You bet.”
“Let me know if anything comes up or changes.”
* * * *
Rasheed glanced in the rearview mirror. “Shit! I knew it. We’re being tailed,” They were nearing Mesquite, Nevada, the last town before the border with Arizona. Then, Utah. What they needed was the Mexican Border. Then they might be able to make a run for it. Rasheed stepped on it, and the following car matched him. “Barad, see if you can slow them down. Roll down your window and take a few shots at them.”