“And what of the material? How costly will the delay be?” The material had to be rerouted due to the discovery of Salaam and the ship. But more importantly, despite losing one container in the blast, there was still enough raw material with which to operate effectively. A deadly warning shot would be fired before the true threat his scientist Abul was creating would ever be unveiled.
“It is on its way, Sayid. It won’t be long now. Are you sure you do not want to target the great city, Sayid?”
“Yes, I’m certain. We cannot be too careful. The Americans have their forces concentrated in the area now, and I do not wish to risk exposure. They somehow found our Mustafah, and I do not know how. There are forces still at work which we do not understand. We cannot take a chance”
It was clear Ra’ed wanted to avoid New York City for fear of Kelly and his intelligence apparatus in the area. Nevertheless, the Sayf Udeen operations chief was irked – it was New York or Washington, the holy grails of urban concentration in the Western world, which were the targets he had dreamed of for so long.
“But what kind of a message do we then send? That we fear this Bill Kelly and the infidel government he represents?” The questions, which held a cutting edge to them, did not sit well with the Sayf Udeen chieftain.
“I fear no one!” Ra’ed barked. The intelligence chief took a step back and lowered his eyes, unable to maintain his composure. Noticing the man’s retreat, and fully understanding the nature of his qualms with redirecting the material to less vital epicenters, Ra’ed added in a softer tone “New York will burn if it has to, believe me. Remember the work Abul is doing. This is but a pinprick compared to that. There is a psychological victory to be had here. It has always been the big cities that were attacked in the past. Suddenly they will learn that no place is safe. That both coasts are targets; that even the heart of their country is not immune. They will learn this in a painful way. But we must still approach our adversary with caution – with some restraint.
So while the destruction will be less, my brother, the fear will be magnified. This is the best way. They will fear us, and for good reason, do not worry. I have already assigned the targets – they are perfect.”
The intelligence man acceded with a nod, at which time Ra’ed moved to the next subject on his agenda.
“And what of the GI?” He was quite curious what they had learned from the captured soldier.
“We have no news about the Kafir [infidel]. Azeez says he does not seem to know much.”
“Perhaps Azeez is just not able applying the right techniques!” Ra’ed exclaimed in an aggravated tone. “You tell Azeez he is not to kill that man. I want him interrogated by our people, here, understand? I want to meet this man, this Kafir CIA agent.”
“Yes, Sayid, I will see to it Azeez gets this message”
“Good. Anything else?” Ra’ed asked somewhat impatiently.
“Yes, Sayid. We have word from Faarooq. He will be on his way soon.”
“Here!” Ra’ed could not conceal his excitement. He had not seen the man for years. They would prepare a worthy homecoming for the brave soldier. They had projected much power through this single individual, and now, finally, he could return to his roots, to where he belonged.
“Did he say when he will be arriving?”
“No, he did not… Sayid, how will we know him? I worry our people will think him an imposter. Few have seen the Faarooq, and even those who have can barely remember him.”
“Do not worry, he will arrive unharmed; I will see to that. Those of us who know the Faarooq are not worried about his safety. His presence here will mark a new beginning for our people, and it will be as if he never left – you will see. Besides, who better than Faarooq to speak to our American guest? He will decide what to make of this GI we have captured.”
It was all coming together nicely, Ra’ed surmised. Abul was making heady progress with the weapon, raw materials were already planted on enemy soil for subsequent deployment, and an American GI with potentially sensitive information was in their custody. The United States CIA seems to have successfully detected the radioactive contamination, and were scrambling to evaluate the situation, but it would be hopeless. Even if they could surmise what they were up against, it was highly unlikely their radiation detection system, the so-called RDS, could be upgraded to detect the new material. As an added measure, they had learned of the scientist enlisted by the CIA to evaluate the contamination from the scene, and were taking steps to determine what, if anything, the man had learned. The information this scientist might uncover could even prove useful to his own scientists. But most importantly, he had the means to intercede, ensuring any relevant findings did not reach Bill Kelly and his intelligence apparatus. Yes, thought Ra’ed, everything was falling into place just fine.
Bill Kelly raced down the Long Island Expressway, driving East as fast as traffic would permit. His navigational system was directing him to get off the highway at Exit 36 - Port Washington. It was just past midday, but already the roads were becoming congested. Kelly could not fathom how anybody could commute on a regular basis on the overcrowded strip of land due East of New York City, but that was the least of his concerns. At his current pace, Kelly estimated he was still approximately 20 minutes from his destination. The local authorities had already arrived on the scene and secured the area. Mack and a forensics team were preparing to make the drive out to the island, but Kelly wanted to proceed before their team was ready, eager to oversee the abandoned ship as soon as possible. The last thing he wanted was the local authorities disrupting any clues that might be on board. He just hoped they had found the correct boat this time. A patrol had come across an illegally anchored ship not more than two hours prior, in a narrow waterway just off the coast in Manhasset Bay. The agency had alerted all the local maritime authorities about the dimensions and specifications of the yacht they sought, and the Agency was appropriately contacted. The description was a dead match, and Kelly decided to make the long trip out to inspect first hand. He had been holed up in an office mulling over the Sea patrol debacle nearly around the clock, and was glad for a break from the routine.
After driving for nearly 10 minutes through the seaside towns that dotted the North Shore of Long Island, his GPS navigator signaled that he had arrived at the appropriate location. He made a left turn into a parking lot situated adjacent to several boat slips, shocked at what the sign before him read – "Town Dock". Kelly was amazed at the stupidity of bringing the ship to such a public location, in full view of a busy pedestrian and vehicular thoroughfare. As he approached the ship, a tall mustached man in his early thirties addressed the approaching counter-terrorism chief.
"You Kelly?" the man asked.
"Sure am", Kelly responded. He wanted to make sure his demeanor was calm, not to raise any heightened suspicion in the charming, picturesque town. All around him people of all ages, from young to old, filled the benches overlooking the water. Some were eating ice cream, others walking their dog. The contrast was striking; if this was indeed their missing ship, the juxtaposition of the vessel harboring, not more than 48 hours earlier, some of the most wanted men in the world in this quaint setting was remarkable.
"May I see some identification?" the guard asked.
“Certainly”. Kelly removed his credentials from his jacket pocket and held them in full view.
"Well, I sure am glad to meet you". The man with the mustache held out his hand, which Kelly promptly shook.
"Likewise. Now what do we have here?" Kelly asked innocently.
"Not something we see too often around town. A perfectly good boat floating abandoned, no identifying markings whatsoever; real strange. But when we put her in the computer, your number came up, so here we are."
Kelly walked to the rear of the sixty-foot cruising vessel and noticed the markings on the stern had been torn off. All that could be seen was the grayish residue of the glue that had at one time cemented the name and destination of origin of th
e boat. Whoever had removed the information had done so in a hurry. That bode well, he figured, for there were sure to be other clues left behind if the perpetrators indeed disembarked with haste.
"Has anyone been on board?" Kelly asked.
"Just the patrol crew that found her. But they took a quick walk through, found she was empty – stripped bare, in fact – and called us."
"I’ll need to know exactly who it was that found this ship. I’ll need to talk to them."
"Yes sir."
The guard had no idea who the man before him really was, his identification falsely identifying him as a lowly field agent, but much to his relief, Kelly received the requisite level of cooperation.
"Have you been on board?"
"No sir. Only JP – he got on board to tow the boat here and tie her up. But that’s it. Never even went below deck."
"JP?"
"Yea, he’ll be back Mr. Kelly. Just went off to fetch a snack."
"Okay, good. I’m going on board now. I’ll be expecting some company."
"Okay. Uh, sir, can I ask you what this is all about?"
"No, you can’t", Kelly replied abruptly, a grin on his face. The mustached man let out a visceral laugh, after which he said "well, you can tell me, but then you’ll have to kill me, right."
"Absolutely. Thanks – I didn’t catch your name?"
"Melvin. My friends call me Mel."
"Well thanks, Mel." And with that, Kelly climbed aboard the boat and surveyed the deck. The guard had mentioned the boat was stripped bare, but Kelly now realized this was no exaggeration. Virtually nothing was left behind. The white of the fiberglass glistened from a recent cleaning, although the crevices remained filthy – it spoke of a hurried, cursory touch-up, nothing more. Below deck, a similar pattern could be found. Specks of dust and debris dotted the superficial cleansing the quarters received. Moreover, it seemed as though nothing had been done to erase the stale stench in the air, an odor that spoke of a long journey.
As Kelly worked his way through the cabins, he came upon a small enclosure at the ship’s bow. The walls narrowed sharply, and the ceiling was not even high enough for Kelly to stand erect. Like the deck above, somewhat greater care was taken to wipe down the grime in this room. But again, the job had been done in haste. Above him, Kelly was surprised to find the outline of what had been a round reddish stain. It did not take a trained eye to identify splattered blood. Kelly looked more closely now, saw someone had wiped a long stream of what was likely a fine spray of the substance. An arterial bleeder, Kelly thought. He had seen enough crime scenes to figure that one out. When sliced, arteries, which pumped blood out from the heart, tend to discharge blood under pressure; their venous counterparts, on the other hand, are low pressure conduits which tend to emit more of an oozing effect when transected. A sharp blade must have sliced through a large vessel in this room. Kelly suddenly feared the worst. Had his man been executed?
The man whose blood stained this room was, in all likelihood, dead right now. Kelly felt as if he was jumping out of his skin, as he inspected the faint red splotches more closely. There was plenty here for analysis, that much was certain. With a heavy heart, Kelly continued to inspect the chamber. If there was blood on the ceiling, then perhaps…yep, there it was. Kelly, examining the floor, took note of the fact the ground had been scrubbed much more thoroughly than the rest of the space; but the cracks and crevices were another matter. Kelly took out a pocket knife and scraped the region between the wooden floorings; dried red flakes appeared on the blade. Now why would they have taken such care with the floor and not the ceiling? Kelly wondered. Just sloppy, he figured, but the inconsistency bothered him. There was no point in speculating – the lab would have an answer soon enough.
Kelly next moved to examine the furnishings. He picked up the wooden chair in the center of the room. It seemed out of place, a sturdy, relatively bulky piece in these cramped quarters. His examination was interrupted prematurely by voices and footsteps approaching in his direction. Kelly dropped what he was doing, and peered behind him, over his shoulder, where he saw Mack approaching. As the large man reached the entryway, the deep bass of his voice began to rumble:
"Hi Bill. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Sorry we’re a bit late – goddam traffic. Anything interesting?"
"Actually, yes." And Kelly looked towards the ceiling, indicating the stains above them.
"Is that what I think it is?" Mack immediately called in the forensics expert he had brought with him to inspect the room and obtain the requisite samples.
"Check out the grating on the floor too", Kelly instructed.
"Hey, what have we got here?" Mack blurted. In his gloved hand Mack prominently displayed a coarse brown thread, not much larger in diameter than a human hair.
"It’s a woven, multi-filamentous synthetic fiber", the forensic specialist interjected. Kelly and Mack both stared up at the woman. "A component of heavy rope", she added, misinterpreting the wide-eyed glances for confusion.
"Yeah, we know", Mack noted.
"Oh, sorry, I just thought…" the specialist’s voice trailed off as Kelly began to think out loud:
"Okay, makes sense now. The rope was for restraint. So that explains the chair – substantial enough to hold down a man with the proper binding. No chance of escape really. So they tied my boy up to this chair, and just cut him up", Kelly added with disgust as he looked up at the ceiling again."
Mack had recreated a similar picture, and nodded slowly in agreement. "Let’s hope we’re wrong", the ops chief added.
"Yes, let’s", Kelly said with finality as he moved to examine the chair once more. Mack had continued to inspect the ground for more clues with his female counterpart, when Kelly beckoned him with great haste.
“Mack”, Kelly said through clenched teeth. He did not want to alarm the woman accompanying them as he implored Mack to inspect the bottom of the chair.
The large operations chief walked over to Kelly and complied. After inspecting the chair, he looked back at the CT chief visibly shaken. Through a face pale and tremulous voice, Mack mouthed almost reflexively at no one in particular three terrifying words: “God help us”. For scratched into the wood on the undersurface of the armrest of the chair were the letters "UWN" followed by the number "3". In what may have been his last hours alive, their man had delivered a crucial piece of intelligence with the movement of the fingernail of an otherwise restrained limb. The message was straightforward – Unconventional Weapons, of the N or nuclear type. Three nuclear devices had made their way onto sovereign U.S. soil.
"Good morning, nice of you to make it", Leo Koval exclaimed as Nina made her way into the lab. The technicians turned to look at her, a smirk on most of their faces as she arrived over an hour late. She did her best to cover up her fatigue. If they only knew how late she had been up. Leo hadn't left the god dam building until close to midnight nearly every night for the past week. It was beginning to wreak havoc on her concentration. And that was dangerous.
She played a pivotal role in the operation, and upholding this double life while not raising any suspicion at work was becoming ever more difficult.
"My pleasure", she answered sarcastically. She was a diligent worker, but known within the lab as not much of a morning person, which helped. Her late arrival didn't really surprise anyone.
Whatever was in the package a few days ago had surely captured Koval's attention. That was an understatement actually; the man worked like a person obsessed.
"Need a hand with this one", she had offered innocently. What an intelligence-gathering coup that would have been, had she gotten herself assigned to the project. But Leo rebuffed her and most everyone else in the lab, choosing to work on the project alone.
"You've all got too much to do", Koval had said. "Stay focused on your own projects. I can handle one little experiment on my own".
Leo was a rarity within academics, still willing to do "wet work", the hands-on research often delegated to sub
ordinates when one attained his stature. What Nina did not realize until much later was that Alan had already implored Leo to take on the project himself. Alan Brody was the chair of the department and technically Leo's boss. Technically was the operative word; Leo was self-funded and could really call his own shots. He brought money and prestige to the department, and his future was therefore secure. But the good-natured physicist appeased his Chair anyhow, agreeing to run the requisite analysis himself.
"Leo, tell me something. What's gotten into you lately? Have you slept more than four hours a night this week? What's so damn important about this analysis you're doing”? It couldn't hurt to ask, Nina thought
"It's quite puzzling, that's what", Leo said mysteriously
"Puzzling?" Had the man figured anything out then, Nina wondered. "What exactly do you mean?"
"I'm not quite sure", Leo responded, still vague about his findings. "You'll find out in due time, don't worry", he added, feeling he had to appease his curious young assistant.
He was right. Nina would find out, but not in any manner that Leo expected.
"Okay then", Nina responded, and turned her attention back to her work. She decided not to press the issue; surely they would have no problem obtaining the information by other means. But they would have to get a hold of his notes, and fast. Her superiors were growing impatient. And her measure of the man told her he had already made significant headway. The time to act was fast approaching.
Nina was not the "muscle" end of the operation, and would need assistance. She casually excused herself and hurried down the hall. When no one was within earshot, she picked up her cellular and placed the call.
"Yeah, it’s me…Yes, he’s got it alright. Been working on it all goddamn week…Well, I can’t say for sure, but I think you had better send someone down here now….No no, just a hunch, but I think he’s figured something…Listen, I know the man!" Nina quickly glanced around as she raised her voice. After confirming the coast was clear, she resumed her conversation. "Listen, I think…Good. Yes, that’ll be fine." Satisfied, Nina put the phone in her pocket and made her way back towards the laboratory. She hoped her intuition was right. They would get Leo that evening.
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