Enemy Among Us-A Jordan Wright Thriller

by Randy Reardon

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Aziz and Akmed finished their supper. They enjoyed the meal and both seemed happy to be back in each other’s company. They cleaned the dishes together and then Aziz excused himself to do his homework in his room.

  As he left the kitchen, the phone rang and Aziz went into the living room and picked it up. “Hello.”

  “Yes, Uncle Mustafa, it is good to hear your voice.

  “Yes, my father is here. We just finished dinner.

  “Yes. One moment.” Aziz took the receiver from his ear and held it out to his father. “It’s Uncle Mustafa. He wishs to speak with you.”

  Akmed hoped that he’d hidden his sudden anguish and apprehension from his son. He knew there would be a confrontation with Mustafa, but he’d hoped it wouldn’t have been so soon. He walked out of the kitchen and reached for the receiver.

  Aziz cupped his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “It will be okay, father. He isn’t upset. It will be okay.”

  Akmed smiled at his son as he took the phone from Aziz and placed it to his ear. “Mustafa, it is good to hear from you. My sincerest apologizes for being away.”

  “I don’t have time for that now. You and I’ll talk later. It is important for me to get into your warehouse this evening. I need to pick up my boxes and I may need a few more things out of the store. Would this be a problem?”

  Akmed knew he wasn’t really concerned about it being a problem. “No. No. When will you be here?”

  “Within the next half hour and, I’ll have some men with me. We will come in through the alley. Please have the door unlocked, as well as the rear fence. Is that understood?”

  “Yes. Yes. Not a problem. I’ll be there to greet you.”

  “No, you won’t. I only need you to do what I just asked. I’ll require no other assistance. I ask that you and Aziz stay in your apartment, with the blinds closed and the lights on.”

  “Yes, Mustafa.”

  “Please, also tell Aziz that I want him to be ready to come with me, beginning tomorrow night. I’ll pick him up after school.”

  “Yes, Mustafa. He’ll be ready. How long will he be gone?”

  “You weren’t concerned with telling us how long you were to be gone. I don’t see why you should be concerned with how long Aziz will be with me.” It was clear Mustafa was frustrated and did not want to be questioned.

  “You are right.” Akmed heard the phone click from the other end. He hung it up and went to tell Aziz to prepare to be with his uncle. He’d hoped everything had been heard across the street. It seemed like events were going to take place fairly quickly.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Jordan and Kate had been in the backroom of the apartment with William and Max, briefing them on the storeroom reconnaissance. Jordan was walking them through what his theories were regarding the small quantities of some items and larger supplies of others.

  “I thinking there are going to be several teams focused on numerous targets. My guess would be that only the leaders will have guns and two-way radios. The rest of the team will be carrying the backpacks. There was nothing there to give us any insight into exact targets.”

  “We also know that money is not an issue,” Kate began. “Going through the business records, it’s obvious that Akmed runs a successful business. He has good cost controls and has negotiated favorable terms for buying his merchandise.” Kate went on, explaining what she’d found in Akmed’s office, focusing specifically on what had come from the computer’s hard drive. “He has Mustafa believing he turns all of the profits over to him but, the reality is that Akmed keeps about twenty percent for himself. The eighty percent is a large enough sum that Mustafa would probably never question it. We figure they would have had in excess of three million dollars. We’re also assuming that other members of the family have businesses with similar arrangements. Mustafa has no shortage of financial resources.”

  “That would explain the high quality of the guns and radios. They want for nothing, to pick up on Kate’s point. We don’t yet know what these other businesses might be so, in addition to providing cash, they might also be able to purchase other needed equipment and supplies. Think about it,” Jordan said, sighing. “They never have to deal with anyone or any entity outside the family to get what they need in order to pull off their mission. Think about how many times we have gotten a break because of information originating from a sale, with some clerk or storeowner feeling that something just wasn’t right and calling. We don’t have that possibility. They have gone to the next level, becoming totally integrated.”

  Max stood up. “Their vulnerability is their size. There are a lot of people involved, beyond the kids, and there could be other parents like Akmed, parents who want out. They see that what is going to take place could destroy everything they’ve worked for here.”

  “Yes, but do we have the time to find them and make a contact.” Jordan was thinking as he spoke, causing him to pause. “I think things are going to move quickly. I really believe we’re talking days, not weeks.”

  There was a knock at the door. One of the agents stuck his head in. “Mustafa is calling the apartment. Bounding out of the room, all four were trying to get through the door at once, with William and Jordan finally falling back to let Kate and Max go first. To someone not realizing the gravity of the situation facing them, it would have seemed humorous.

  Everyone in the main room was situated around the speakers, hearing the voices of Mustafa and Aziz. Aziz was getting his father to the phone.

  Jordan was processing the information as Akmed and Mustafa spoke. Twenty minutes did not give them a lot of time. Even knowing they had the alley and the back of the store under video surveillance, Jordan felt the need to have human assets in place, to gather additional information. Unfortunately, the alley and the back of the store didn’t provide many observation points and someone couldn’t just be hanging out in the area.

  “Where’s Mustafa now?” Jordan broke the silence of the room. Several stared at him as if he would be overheard on the call.

  “He’s at his house.”

  “Anyone with him?” Jordan continued.

  “No. Mustafa came home from work and hasn’t had any visitors.”

  “Well, we know he’s only ten minutes away. So, if he leaves right after the call, he’s got a stop to make before he comes here. Let’s get the teams following Mustafa up to speed on this call and tell them we know he’s coming here in the next half hour.” Jordan ordered.

  “On it!” one of the agents called as he moved to an unoccupied desk and pulled out a cell phone.

  “Let’s put our heads together on what the best approach would be to have surveillance in the alley. I know we have the cameras, but is there any way to have some eyes close by?” Jordan inquired.

  There was a plat of survey, a map of the entire neighborhood. Similar to a blueprint, it showed all of the dwellings, both houses and outbuildings, in a several blocks radius of Akmed’s store. Almost every home or building with property bordering the alley had a shed or garage with alley access. While several would provide adequate viewing posts, none had an easy, undetectable entrance.

  Since timing would not allow them to gain permission from the owner, they needed to be able to sneak in, watch what happened and get back out unseen. It was unlikely any crime was going to be committed, so protecting the surveillance with a warrant was unnecessary.

  Jordan was perplexed by one thing on the map. “What does the red “D” stand for?” He’d noticed several of the properties had a circled red “D.”

  One of the agents chuckled and several looked at each other. “It means there’s a dog on the property. We’ve found that to be helpful in these situations.”

  Jordan laughed. “No shit. ‘Once bitten, twice shy,’ huh? Yeah, I would have liked to have had that information in the past. Nothing worse than jumping a fence or coming around the corner and you’re facing a growling, snarling pooch.”

  �
�Yes, sir — and I’ve got the bite marks to prove it,” the same agent agreed. “Of course, if we need to gain access we have the same approach we used at Mustafa’s.”

  Jordan nodded, looking once again at the map. “This garage here is two stories tall. If we could get someone upstairs with a camera, that would be a great observation point. I would also like a person at each end of the alley, just to monitor. They could station themselves here and here.” Jordan pointed to sheds at the entrance to the alley from the two streets. “I don’t anticipate the need for any action tonight. They’re moving more or less legitimately purchased merchandise. But, just in case, let’s have a tactical response on stand by a couple of blocks away.”

  Three agents stepped up to volunteer. Jordan gave each an assignment and they moved out.

  “The surveillance team with Mustafa just called in. He left the house and is headed toward Center City.”

  “Okay, everyone! We’re a go. Let’s be sharp and see if we can’t come up with several more pieces of the puzzle tonight.” Jordan waved them out and on their way.

  The agents who had volunteered for the various postings gathered up their gear and left, the remaining agents manning the various communication and computer stations. Max, Kate, William and Jordan went to the back room.

  “With what we know from the call, Mustafa is gathering the supplies tonight and pulling the kids together tomorrow. I think we have to assume they are moving forward.” Max started the conversation after closing the door.

  Jordan jumped in. “I agree, but we still don’t have any idea on what or where the target is.”

  “You don’t think it’s somewhere in Philly?”

  “My gut tells me it is; but, in reality, in two-three hours they could be in New York, Baltimore or even D.C. I don’t think we can take anything off the table at this point. Now that we know their funds are fairly substantial, he could put the kids on the train and be in the heart of Times Square in a little over ninety minutes. If you think about it, this is a great base to operate from.”

  “Location, location, location,” William chimed in, reciting the real estate mantra. “I have to agree with Jordan. Think about dropping these kids in any major city. They carry out the attack and, if any of them survive, they can just blend in. If they’re injured, they are taken to the hospitals and treated as a victim. No one’s going to think of them as suspects, even if someone was close enough to see something. They probably aren’t going to be in any condition to file a witness account.”

  “We’ve got to give them credit,” Jordan observed. “This is well planned. I don’t think we’ve ever come across a group with the resources to take this much time in planning and prep prior to execution.”

  “You know what it really is. It’s patience,” Max told them. “Most of these groups are so rabid, they can’t wait to strike and, that’s when they make mistakes. The patience this cell has displayed is what could allow it to pull off the biggest surprise we’ve known.”

  They all stared at each other; there was so much to do, but not enough information to do anything. Their hope would have to lie in the moving of the supplies, that it would get them somehow closer to understanding the target.

  One of the agents stepped into the room. “Everyone is in place. Mustafa picked up three men and it looks like they‘re headed in this direction.”

  “Okay. We’ll be out in a second. Thanks,” Max nodded to the agent to shut the door. “This may be our opportunity. Let’s not let anything get by us. The smallest detail might be the one that begins to pull this all together.” Max led the way out of the room.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Mustafa had jumped into his van, intent on what he must do, but still puzzled over Akmed. As he drove, he reviewed his conversation with Akmed for the tenth time or more and still couldn’t tell if the man was a threat or not to the operation. On the phone, Akmed didn’t seem any more nervous than usual. All the parents exhibited a level of nervousness around him and he used it to his advantage. None of them ever questioned him and they always responded to his demands. He felt it worked best that way, even though he’d never been instructed to be a threat to his people.

  Akmed had seemed like himself – or, at least, like his recent self, since Mahasin had passed away. There wasn’t anything Mustafa could put his finger on that made him feel he needed to eliminate Akmed, since getting rid of him could cause issues with Aziz. Aziz was too important to the mission and Mustafa could not afford to have him distracted by the death or disappearance of his father. Of all the children, Aziz was the best. He was a natural born leader and he could rally the other children to do almost anything and, even if they weren’t totally successful in the task, Aziz would have inspired everyone to have done their best. In another place or time Aziz, would have been a leader in industry or politics. He would have had a bright and successful future — but there were other plans for him. Aziz would achieve success but in that success, more than likely would come death and, that was the way it had to be. He would play a key role on the day of the mission and its success or failure would lie on how well Aziz carried out his part of the mission and how he would lead the others. Mustafa had all the confidence in the world about Aziz. A smile crossed his face as he thought about Aziz and the role the boy would play.

  He’d driven through Center City, to an area knows as the “Northern Liberties.” He would pick up the newest employees of the City of Brotherly Love Cleaning Service and they would go with him to Akmed’s and help load up all of the supplies. He’d already asked one of the men to pick up an additional van from the local rental agency to also be used this night and over the next several days. After going around the block twice, he looked for any sign of a tail, Mustafa pulled to the curb, next to an old apartment building. While the golden sheen of lights glowed from several of the apartments, one could also peer inside and see that the units were old and poorly maintained. The Northern Liberties was one of those neighborhoods in transformation where many of the young professionals of Philly had moved into the area, followed by trendy nightclubs and restaurants. They would buy up the apartment buildings and old factories and turn them into condos at prices too high for the original residents, these people forced to leave the only neighborhood in which they had ever lived. Rumor had it that a Whole Foods Market would be building in the next block. Mustafa never understood the name. What was a whole food? It just seemed like a grocery store at which people were willing to pay more than necessary for the same products one could purchase at the local Acme. Americans, he thought, always willing to pay more just to pay more, they were never satisfied with what they had and always wanted more, while neglecting those who had less.

  He saw two of the men exit the building and come down the stairs. They turned and headed toward the truck. One of them opened the side cargo door and both piled in. They seated themselves on the rugs Mustafa had placed on the van’s floor. At the same moment, an almost identical van pulled up behind them. Mustafa recognized his third man as the driver and slipped his vehicle into gear, headed to Akmed’s store.

  Mustafa faulted himself for not having already secured two of the radios so he could be in communication with the other van. He hoped nothing would cause the driver to become separated from him in traffic. He knew the driver only had a rudimentary understanding of the streets of Philadelphia and Mustafa hadn’t wanted to give them a map or written directions, in case the police stopped them. Mustafa would just have to place his fate in the hands of Allah that they would be able to stay together in the traffic. Mustafa was careful to time the traffic lights at the intersections they needed to pass through, so he’d instructed the other driver not to be right behind him, but rather remain a few cars back, with other vehicles between them, so it wouldn’t be obvious they were in a caravan.

  On several occasions, Mustafa stopped his vehicle as the light turned yellow, versus going quickly through, as the traffic around him did. This caused several of the cars behind them t
o honk their horns and, on one occasion, a car skidded to stop just inches from the rear bumper of the van. Mustafa could see the woman in the car was upset and making obscene gestures through the windshield. Mustafa found the people of Philadelphia to lack patience. They were always in a hurry, and so critical of what went on in their city. If their beloved Eagles didn’t win, they were instantly ready to fire the coach and the quarterback, only to love them the next week, when they had a big win. Mustafa just did not understand.

  They were successful in their negotiation through the Center City traffic and soon pulled into the back alley behind the hardware store. The two vans were parked against the fence, attempting to keep the alley passable. They wouldn’t be parked there long, but Mustafa didn’t want to stop their loading in order to move the vans because another resident needed to get through to get in or out of the alley.

  As the men jumped out, they opened the fence and found the door to the storeroom unlocked. They headed in and Mustafa found the switch for the lights. He quickly surveyed the room and found the area with the numerous boxes of their supplies. He directed the men there and assigned each one a certain box to take out to the vans, since Mustafa wanted certain boxes in a certain van, while ensuring everything was loaded that needed to go.

  In less than an hour, the vans were loaded and headed back to the Northern Liberties. The second van contained the book bags, radios and some of the other items. Driving directly home, Mustafa had the guns and explosive materials in his van. He backed into the driveway, up against the garage door. He didn’t want anyone to break in and steal the guns. He headed into the house to turn on the news, because he was interested in one particular news item.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight