by Mark Donovan
As Ahmad waited for sunset, and began saying his prayers to Muhammad and Allah, he thought about his wife Aaila again and how much he missed her, the smell of her hair, her warm smile, and her soft and gentle voice. Oh, how much he missed her, the simple holding of her hand, the feel of her lips against his, the comfort and peace she brought to him when they lay together. A combination of sadness and anger boiled up from within him as he reflected on their life together, and how the United States government had stolen her from him in a flash. Tonight they would pay he thought to himself, as he looked across the road at the water station. They would pay for the death of Aaila and her family. They would pay for the horrible pain that they had caused him. They would pay for all the pain that they had inflicted on his Muslim community over the past century. And this evening would only be the start of the pain that they would endure. He was Allah’s instrument, Muhammad’s sword. Tonight he would begin to unleash their wrath on the United States, a rage and fury that it had never experienced before.
Chapter 49 (April 18, Monday 9:00pm, Dallas, Texas)
Dave and Fenton stood outside their SUV at the North-Central Water Utility Station talking to one of Fenton’s men. Thirty minutes earlier the man had reported a breach in the station’s perimeter fence, but it turned out to be a false alarm. A meth addict had attempted to climb the fence in a crazed state of mind. He had gotten hung up on the barbed wire that topped the fence and was screaming insanely from his injuries when the police had found him. Other than a meth pipe he had nothing else on him.
At the same time, about ten kilometers west of them, at the North-West facility, Ahmad stepped out of the Ford Escape, walked to the back of the vehicle, and opened up its rear hatch. He proceeded to put on the wet-suit boots he had purchased at the sporting goods store. Next, he placed several steel canisters into his knapsack, which already contained a 9mm handgun, bolt cutters, a crowbar and several other small items. He then placed the knapsack into the dry sack and made sure the watertight seal on it was fully closed. Finally, he hefted up the dry sack by its rugged rope handle and took one final quick survey of the sports field and the strip mall parking lot as he closed the Escape’s rear hatch. There were only a few cars left in the parking lot and the field was empty. He had not seen anyone in the park for over an hour.
Ahmad walked across the road, through the sports field park, and directly towards the water’s edge of Lake Lewisville. He made sure to keep at least a hundred meters distance from the water station’s perimeter fence as he walked through the park. The further he proceeded from the road and into the park, the darker it became as the street lights faded behind him.
When Ahmad made it to the water’s edge he took advantage of the near pitch darkness to walk in the direction of the water utility station’s perimeter fence. He saw no reason to have to extend his time in the lake water. It would only drain additional energy from him to swim or wade further through the water, and provide no additional cover of protection.
When he got to within a couple of meters of the perimeter fence he turned and began to walk into the lake. As he waded out into the water he noticed that the lake bottom felt muddy and thick with silt. With every step he took he had to break the suction of the lake bottom soil from his feet. He also noticed that the water was getting deeper than he had anticipated. Twenty five meters out, the water was already up to his waist and getting deeper with each step. He was beginning to realize he would probably need to swim to make it out and around the perimeter fence that ended about twenty five meters from where he currently was. No real problem for him since he could swim. However, he had been hoping to avoid fully submersing the dry sack for the off chance it wasn’t as leak proof as its packaging information promoted it to be. Though the canisters were sealed, he still had a touch of fear about swimming in water with cholera in it, albeit in a sealed container. He knew the terrible effects of cholera on the human body from both clinical and personal experience levels. While visiting India once he had passed through a small village that had had a recent outbreak of cholera. The sickness and death in the village caused from the disease was overwhelming. He had also just witnessed the same effects of it again when he was in Germany.
Ahmad continued wading his way out into the lake, towards the end of the fence. When he was within five meters of reaching it, the depth of the water had risen to his neck. He had begun to pray to Allah asking Him for the water not to get any deeper. The wet sack had already become fully submerged and it required both his hands to tug and slide it through the water a meter below his neck. He had come to the conclusion that there was no way he would be able to swim with the sack. There was not enough air in the dry sack to provide sufficient buoyancy in it to compensate for the weight of the heavy items that he had placed in it. So he just kept praying to Allah that the water depth would stop increasing as he continued to press forward, towards the end of the fence.
A couple of minutes later, and with Allah’s blessings, Ahmad finally reached the end of the fence and began to negotiate his turn around it. The water had risen up to his chin, and with the slight wave action in the water he had already swallowed a few gulps of it. He actually had to push off the lake bottom with his feet to raise his head and mouth enough above the water to catch breaths of air. The effort took all of his strength due to the weight of the dry sack and its contents. With this bouncing action he slowly made his way around the end of the fence and began working himself back towards the lake shoreline, inside the perimeter of the water utility station fence. Five minutes later the lake water had receded to only a meter in depth. Nevertheless, he had decided to keep only his head above the water to minimize being seen. At this point, he figured the dry sack had either done its job and kept the contents dry, or if not, it wouldn’t matter if the items remained wet for a few additional minutes.
As Ahmad finally pulled himself up and out of the water, near the perimeter fence, he scanned the water utility station grounds for any signs of life. Though it was dark out, he had seen no sign of movement. No flashlight beams. No sounds of voices. No dark shadows moving along the grounds. This was looking too easy thought Ahmad.
Ron continued to stare at the tablet computer in front of him, monitoring individual Hunter-Falcon camera feeds to see if he could observe any type of anomaly or target on his own. Since Dave had called him about the Meth addict incident at the North-Central Water Utility Station, he had been on heightened alert and proactive in his monitoring of the Hunter-Falcons. He had concluded that if a man nearly one hundred percent mentally and physically impaired could just about make it over a two and a half meter high perimeter fence, a trained terrorist intent on killing thousands of people would have no issues scaling the fence, even with the three rows of barbed wire that topped it.
He had completed the transition of all of the drones’ visual sensors over to night vision sensing mode a couple of hours earlier, and so far there had been no sign of intruders attempting to enter the North-West Utility Water Station. Suddenly, as he was staring at the tablet display and flipping through the camera feeds, one of the sensors began to report a possible target.
Ron glided his index finger over the tablet screen and tapped a couple of radial buttons. A sensor on the two hundred meter radial arc with a current magnetic compass reading of three hundred and fifty degrees had indicated a sudden moving hot spot, and potentially a target threat. Ron tapped the tablet screen once again. A grid map of the North-West Utility Water Station became superimposed over the track of the Hunter-Falcon sensors, with the hot spot highlighted in red. The hot spot was near the lake shoreline, and adjacent to the perimeter fence. What was most alarming to Ron was the fact that the hot spot was within the confines of the fence. But there was also something else odd with it. The hot spot was blotchy in appearance, as if it might be two small targets instead of one large one.
Ron adjusted the flight path of the Hunter-Falcon sensor that had detected the possible target and that had continued to fly t
he two hundred meter radial arc. He sent a command to have it fly in a reverse direction on the arc, back towards the target hot spot, and then to have it hover over it. He also dropped its altitude by five meters so that he could direct it to another radial arc ring without interfering with the flight paths of any of the other Hunter-Falcons.
As the drone retraced its flight path along the arc, it began to report the hot spot again. However, it had shifted in position from just a moment earlier. The spot had moved away from the perimeter fence and in the direction of the water filtration building. The hot spot had also morphed into a singular spot and was slightly larger.
While keeping his eyes fixated on the tablet, Ron pulled out his smartphone from his pants pocket and dialed Dave. As he waited for Dave to answer, he adjusted the Hunter-Falcon’s flight path to follow the hot spot. He noticed that it was moving at a snail’s pace of only two kilometers per hour, as if it was on high alert and proceeding cautiously.
“What’s up Ron?” asked Dave on the other end of the line.
“Dave, I am looking on my screen at a suspicious target approaching the water filtration building at this station. I suggest you and Fenton get over here quickly.”
“Roger that. We are on our way.” The other end of the phone went dead.
Ron yelled to the guard who was standing outside the guard shack. “Ivan, can you call one of your colleagues to check out the western side entrance of the filtration building? It looks like we may have an unwanted guest approaching it.”
“Will do,” said the guard as he lifted the radio that was clipped to his belt and made a call to the facilities main security office.
Two minutes later a water utility station guard walked lazily around to the western side of the water filtration building, sweeping a Maglite flashlight back and forth in front of him as he slowly made his way to the side entrance. He was walking about twenty meters away from the edge of the building itself. Occasionally he aimed the flashlight in the direction of the perimeter fence which was nearly one hundred meters from where he was walking. He could only vaguely make out the shape of it in the distance and didn’t see anything of interest.
Since Ron’s call to Dave, Ahmad had already made his way to within thirty meters of the building. He was staying low and moving slowly to help avoid setting off any motion sensors that might be on the grounds. He saw the guard turn the corner of the building and froze. The guard was moving in his direction and based upon the sweeps of his flashlight, he knew his cover would soon be blown. He had to do something and do it fast. He reversed his steps ten meters to avoid being caught under the glare of the flashlight beam. He then sat still, waiting for the guard to pass him. After the guard had moved beyond him, Ahmad pulled a hunting knife from its sheath that was strapped to his belt, and made his way in the direction of the guard, approaching him silently from behind. Fortunately for Ahmad, the water lapping on the shoreline helped to muffle his sound as he crept up behind the guard.
Just as Ahmad got to within a meter of the guard, the guard stopped to listen, as if some silent noise had signaled a warning message in his mind. He slowly turned his head to see if something was behind him. As he did, Ahmad rushed forward and with one horizontal sweep of his knife, slit the guard’s throat wide open from ear to ear. There was only the faint sound of a gurgle before the guard fell to Ahmad’s feet. Ahmad picked up the side arm that had dropped from the guard’s hand and put it into his waistband behind his back. He also removed the radio from the guard’s belt and his identification badge. With the flashlight, he briefly examined the badge, and then smiled. It had a magnetic strip on the back of it. Ahmad took one final look around to see if all was dark and still, and then proceeded to move forward, towards the side entrance of the water filtration building.
The guard may have just made his work easier thought Ahmad. Hopefully the guard’s badge would make his task a little simpler in gaining entry into the building. As he made his way to the entrance Ahmad wondered if the guard was just making his rounds or had he been sent out for a particular reason. He hoped it was the former.
The SUV screeched to a halt outside the main entrance guard shack. Ron, along with the guard manning the entrance, rushed out of the shack just as Dave and Fenton jumped out of the vehicle. Ron and the guard had been monitoring Ron’s tablet computer and trying to contact the guard who had been sent out to check the west side of the filtration building.
“What’s the situation?” asked Dave as Fenton and him approached Ron.
“The guard who was sent out to check the possible breach in the security fence is not responding to his radio. I’m also seeing an unmoving target near the vicinity of where the guard was last walking. The heat signature is also fading.”
“We also just received word from the facility’s main security office,” said the guard. “The west side entrance of the building was opened using the missing guard’s ID.”
Without hesitation Fenton slipped the radio off his belt and called the other FBI Fly Team members. He directed them to leave their posts and to report immediately to the North-West water utility station for assistance.
“Alright Dave, you and I are going to go check out the filtration building,” ordered Fenton. “Ron, remain here and direct the other fly team members to the building as they arrive. Also, keep watching your drones for any sign of movement away from the building.”
Fenton walked to the back of the SUV and opened up its rear hatch. He reached into a leather bag and pulled out a 9mm Glock. He walked back over to Dave and handed it to him. “Here’s a little protection. I assume you know how to use it?”
“Definitely.”
Fenton and Dave jumped back into the SUV and drove the half kilometer to the filtration building. They parked right out in front of the main entrance to it.
From the outside, Dave observed that the building was a large, nondescript rectangular building made from a combination of brick and steel. However, as soon as they stepped inside of it, the view changed dramatically. The building was a labyrinth of huge machinery that hummed loudly, with massive plumbing pipes that crisscrossed upwards through the entire three stories of the structure. A network of metal catwalks and staircases separated the massive volume into the three quasi floors. Several office areas, or more like large painted white boxes with a large window in each, were interspersed between the floors and piping. They must have been quiet spaces to enable a person to think without having to leave the building thought Dave.
“So how do you want to proceed?” Dave yelled.
Fenton swept his eyes from left to right across the tangle of giant plumbing in front of him.
“Let’s head in that direction,” yelled Fenton over the din of the machinery as he pointed to the left. “The outflow pipes from this building that flow to the large outdoor water storage tanks are over there. Those pipes, and their related access points, are where Mr. Williams will most likely try to introduce the cholera toxin.
Dave looked in the direction that Fenton was pointing and agreed with his assessment. “Alright, I’ll follow your lead.”
With side arms drawn Fenton led the way towards the left. As they walked Dave began to fully appreciate the massive size of the building. It was about half the size of a football field, but instead of a wide open area it was a massive grid of huge pipes. It was going to be hard to find Spencer in this web of metal, he concluded.
As they made their way towards a flight of metal stairs Fenton suggested they split up and radio each other if either of them saw any signs of Spencer. Dave agreed, so Fenton took the metal staircase to the second floor while Dave stayed on the first.
Dave proceeded to slowly work his way into the maze of plumbing and machinery, walking down the four foot wide walkway corridor outlined by yellow and black hazard lines painted on the concrete floor. As he began to enter into what looked like a web of metal spaghetti he was amazed by the sheer size of the plumbing pipes and the loud sound of the pumps that were forci
ng thousands of gallons of water per minute through them. Occasionally, as he made his way further into the building, he noticed inspection ports and large metal hoppers for apparently sampling the water or adding chemicals to it.
After making his way about halfway back into the building Dave decided to work his way to the left and head over to the far western edge of the building, where the side entrance was located, and where the missing guard’s badge was used to enter it. He looked up as he walked in the direction of the side entrance and saw a portion of the second story catwalk above him. No sign of Spencer or Fenton.
He continued on and finally made it to the western edge of the building. He walked in a northerly direction for a couple of minutes before he came to the west side entrance. The door was locked shut. However, he noticed the floor around it was wet. Not huge puddles of water, but as if someone had just stepped out of a full bathtub and walked across the bathroom floor. As a matter of fact, Dave soon realized that they were indeed footprints. He could see that the wet footprint marks worked their way further into the building heading in a northerly direction, and getting smaller with each step.
Dave followed the path of the fading footprints. Finally, as he neared the rear of the building, he came upon another metal staircase. He could have moved further inward into the building and made another pass towards the south, but he suddenly had a gut feeling that going up a level was the right choice.
Just as Dave began to work his way up the staircase he heard Fenton yell out, “Stop where you are. Don’t move.”
Fenton’s command was followed by the immediate sound of a firearm being discharged multiple times. No sounds of distress or cry for help followed. Just the constant roar of the machinery in the building was all that Dave heard as he listened intently for a few seconds.
Dave took the metal staircase two steps at a time, yelling for Fenton in the process, but getting no response. The top of the metal stairs landed onto an industrial catwalk that branched out in two directions, one path directly ahead, and the other to the left. For no specific reason he chose the left branch and started running down it yelling for Fenton, the 9mm Glock extended outwards in his right hand. The catwalk took a long circuitous route through the filtration building’s maze of plumbing, turning left, then right, and then left again. Along the course, Dave passed small stubbed offshoots of the catwalk that ended in front of large metal panels of gauges, valves, knobs and light indicators. He also passed by a number of massive steel industrial looking hoppers. But he had yet to find Fenton or see any signs of Spencer.
