“Kate,” Jordan said quietly.
“Yes, Jordan?”
“Did you just see what this mad man did at the toll plaza?”
“No, I was on the floor. Why? What happened?”
Jordan looked at Patterson. Patterson had a wide smile on his face.
“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you. Anything else?”
“Yes. Patterson’s men confirm the engravers are not at the Mint. The inventory will be complete in about fifteen minutes, but you were right, Captain, a significant number of dies are gone.”
“Let’s just keep looking for a white van. We need to find them.” The smile had left Patterson’s face. He was back to business.
Chapter Seventy-Six
They continued to search in the area where Interstate Highways 676 and 295 converged. Max and William had arrived in the area five minutes ago, so they divided the area between them. But, time was not on their side. As each minute passed, Mustafa put more miles between himself and his pursuers.
Jordan felt Mustafa and his men weren’t purposelessly running, but more than likely moving to a predetermined location. He had bet the plan Mustafa had done so far included backup locations in case their primary destination had been compromised. Jordan figured Belle had said something to Mustafa, which made him feel he couldn’t go back to his home. Jordan bet Mustafa had a backup somewhere in the immediate vicinity of the search area, since it was an excellent location with several major north-south roads, allowing for numerous escape options.
“Hey, stop! There’s one in there!” Kate yelled from the back seat.
Patterson slammed on the brakes as he pulled to the curb.
“What are you talking about?” Jordan turned to look at her in the backseat.
“At the Wawa. There’s a City of Brotherly Love van parked on the side of the building.”
“Are you certain?” Jordan surveyed the parking lot of the regional convenience store found throughout the Philadelphia area.
“I stared at the vans long enough when they were parked at Mustafa’s. I’d know them anywhere.”
Patterson had already spun the car around. There was an empty lot across the street from the convenience store where, indeed, a van was parked.
“Let’s just hope its one of the ones we need to find,” Jordan observed as all three of them focused their attention on the van.
“That may be our guy coming out now.” A good-sized man of apparent Middle Eastern descent walked out of the market with a large soft drink cup and the straw up to his mouth. The other hand held a bag which had the shape of a hoagie.
“I guess moving all those dies and engravers causes you to work up an appetite. What do you think, Kate? You saw these guys the longest. Is that one of them?”
Kate had retrieved a miniature pair of binoculars out of her bag. Not the best, but good enough to get a slightly better view of the man. “Yep, that’s one of them.”
Jordan grabbed the radio. “Max, we’ve got one of the men and a van at the Wawa at six-o-two Blackhorse Pike. He’s just getting ready to leave.”
“We’ll move toward you. Keep us posted.”
“10-4”
Patterson pulled away as the van turned out of the parking lot and onto the road going northeast. Patterson, Jordan and Kate stayed three car lengths back on the heavily trafficked road.
Twenty minutes later, Patterson pulled the car to the curb in a modest but decaying residential neighborhood as the van pulled into the driveway of a home in the next block. Max and William positioned themselves a block to the other side of the house, while additional units would cover the back.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Choufani looked hard at Stan. “Are you sure that’s our best option? I’m not sure I completely buy the father’s story — so far, anyway.”
“I think it’s the best we’ve got. Give me some slack on this. I think it could work.”
Choufani nodded, exhaled loudly, “You haven’t let me down yet.”
Stan grinned, walked to the door and opened it. “Akmed? Can you join us, please?”
Akmed tentatively entered the room, quickly glancing back and forth between Stan and Choufani. He took the seat that was offered.
“Akmed, I’ve played it straight with you since the beginning. I haven’t lied to you or promised you anything I haven’t delivered.” Stan was bent over the table and looked directly at Akmed, their faces less than a yard apart.
Akmed nodded in agreement.
“Now we need your help. Aziz and his group are the only holdouts. We can end this two ways. First way is to go in with our tactical squads. It will be quick and decisive, but I got to tell you I don’t like Aziz’s chances in that scenario. Here’s what I want to do. I want to get you and your son on the phone and give you a chance to talk him out of taking this any further.”
Akmed’s head slumped down and his body began to shake. “I wish I could help. I want my son safe, but I don’t think he will talk to me. That man he had to call uncle has taken him away from me.” His voice sounded strained, as he choked back tears. “I just don’t know if Aziz isn’t too far gone.”
Stan came around the table and put his arm on Akmed’s shoulder as Choufani sat down beside Akmed.
“Look, ahh, it’s worth a try, huh? He may be finding out that his uncle led them down the garden path and isn’t even with them. We think Aziz is vulnerable and you might be able to use that vulnerability to re-establish a relationship. Can you at least try?”
Akmed was quiet for several minutes before he raised his head up, brushed a tear from his cheek and spoke. “For the honor of my wife, I must do this. I will talk to Aziz.”
Stan and Choufani glanced at one another and Choufani quickly exited the room. Stan turned back to Akmed. “You will do your wife and yourself proud, Akmed. I have a feeling this will work. It will take us a couple of minutes to set up and then we make the call.”
Akmed nodded. If he could get his son back, then all would not be lost. Akmed found his mind filled with images of Aziz as a little boy, growing toward strong manhood, folding the woman he’d thought was his mother into his arms to give her a hug. How she had loved Aziz.
A technician entered the room – Akmed didn’t know how long he’d been lost in memories. He installed the phone and fitted Akmed with the headset. Stan and Akmed were alone in the room.
“When you hit the red button on the phone, it will call the phone at the Liberty Bell Center where Aziz and his group are located. Every time we’ve called, he’s answered; so, I anticipate he’ll be picking up the phone on this call, too. We’re ready whenever you are.”
Akmed took a deep breath and slowly and audibly exhaled, as if he were in a yoga lesson. He’d seen it on television. He looked at Stan and then pressed the button.
He waited. He could hear the phone ringing on the other end.
“Yes. What do you want?”
It was Aziz. Akmed momentarily couldn’t respond. Words would not form in his mouth; his throat went completely dry. He was sure Stan could hear his heart pounding. Hanging up seemed like the best option.
Stan patted him on the shoulder and whispered, “You can do this.”
Akmed straightened up in his chair. “Aziz, it is me — your father. We need to talk, you and I.”
The reply came quickly. “I have nothing to say to you. You raised me for this mission and I must complete it.”
“Aziz, listen to me. This mission is not what was planned. Your Uncle has misled you and the others. You cannot be successful today.”
“I don’t believe you. We will prevail and our demands will be met.”
“Aziz – son. Listen to me. When was the last time you spoke to Mustafa?”
There was silence from the other end.
“Please, Aziz. Answer my question?”
“When he told us to begin taking the buildings and hostages,” Aziz blurted out.
“And nothing since?”
“No.
”
“Was that the plan?”
“He was supposed to call every hour.” The words seemed to race from the boy.
“And, he hasn’t?”
“No. We haven’t heard anything from him. We’ve had questions he could have answered. We’ve had things happen we hadn’t planned for. He hasn’t helped us at all.” Aziz was sounding more like the teenager he was and not the terrorist he attempted to be.
“Okay. Okay. It’s all right, Aziz. I’m here to help you. I can give you the direction you need. Your Uncle misled you. He misled me and the other families. He even tried to have Bennie kill me in the store, today.”
“What father? What did you say? Bennie tried to kill you?.”
“Yes, at the direction of Mustafa. Mustafa is not what he seems. He is running from the police as we speak. He won’t be helping you today, Aziz, so please allow me to help you.”
“I don’t know who I can trust. I couldn’t even trust my own cousins today!”
“Trust me. For the sake of your mother, give me a chance? Give us a chance?”
“Father, what is going to happen to me?”
Akmed wasn’t sure how to respond. He looked at Stan.
Stan reached over and hit the mute button. “Akmed, you have to understand. I mean, yeah, he’s a kid, but he’s been involved in a crime and people have gotten hurt. But, given the circumstances and what we know has happened, if we can get him to surrender, I’ll be able to go to bat for him with the prosecutors, to make sure they have the full story and understand.”
Akmed returned to the call. “Aziz, listen. Bad things have happened today, but they were not your fault. There will be some punishment; but, eventually, we will be together. We will have each other. Does that mean anything to you.”
Again there was silence – and it was followed by the sounds of sobbing.
“Mother would be so ashamed of me for what I have done.” Aziz said, his voice little over a whisper.
“Your mother will be proud if you can make all of this end right now. She loves you Aziz. I love you —.son.”
“Yes, father, I know. I, ahh, I love you. Tell me what I need to do? I want to go home.”
“Bless you, my son. I am so proud of you. I am going to let you talk to a man named Stan. He has been of tremendous help to me, Aziz. He will tell you what you need to do. I will see you soon.” Akmed gave the headset to Stan and fell back in his chair, his eyes filling with tears.
Akmed didn’t have any grasp of time. It could have been ten, twenty minutes or a half hour or longer that Akmed found himself standing outside the Liberty Bell Center. Uniformed Philadelphia policemen were leading the children out and Aziz was brought over – no handcuffs – and Akmed was able to hug his son and the words “I love you” spilled from each of them as they held one another. Then Aziz was led away to a waiting car by two Federal agents.
Stan put his arm around Akmed’s shoulder and they turned and walked in the opposite direction.
“You’ll be able to see him tomorrow.” That was all Stan could think to say.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
CHERRY HILL, NEW JERSEY
Jerome pressed “End” on his cell phone and laid it in the console between the seats in the front of the car. A glance at his visage in the rearview mirror and the look of satisfaction was obvious. Mustafa had both surprised and impressed him. When they first created this plan and Mustafa discussed his role, Jerome, without telling Mustafa, had given it less than a fifty percent chance of success. But, Mustafa had informed him that he not only had the dies, but was also successful in getting the engravers out of the Mint. The seven people who were the only ones who knew how to create and engrave the markings for all U.S. coinage were now under his control. This was better than he ever imagined.
It was wise, occasionally, to reflect on one’s past in order to move with surety to one’s future, one’s destiny. Jerome Fernandez-Medina was born in London of an American mother and Mexican father. His father was a senior diplomat, serving as an Ambassador in the capitals of Europe. Jerome spent the first sixteen years of his life living in Embassies, with only infrequent visits to Mexico. When his family did return permanently, Jerome was appalled by the poverty — and the concentration of wealth. While his family enjoyed privilege and affluence, Jerome felt they didn’t do enough to heal the relentlessly growing rift between those who had and those who did not, a schism which would someday engulf his country.
He found kindred spirits in his cousins; they decided the political process was too corrupt and slow moving to ever affect change. Their approach was to join the other side, the criminal side. They targeted the central states of Mexico, Veracruz and its large expanse of land along the Gulf of Mexico, Guerrero and Oaxaca, which bordered on the Pacific, and Puebla, which provided an additional connection between Veracruz and Guerrero. Strategically, this gave them the ability to move various goods, both legal and illegal, from one port to the other. These States also were home to many of Mexico’s most famous resorts and soon, Jerome and his cousins controlled many of them. With the cash flow, they were able to invest in other not so legal businesses and as these businesses turned large profits, they were able to launder the money back through the resorts. Different in approach from the other crime families was their sponsorship of job training and social welfare programs, to help the poor in the States they controlled. While it developed skills in the population they could use for both their legal and illegal enterprises, it also built loyalty and allegiances among the people.
As their dominance grew, they observed a larger problem that was impacting Mexico’s ability to grow as a country. It was Mexico’s neighbor to the north. They came to believe the policies and politics of the United States were directly responsible for a whole host of their country’s problems.
Jerome took the lead, to bring the battle to the interior of their enemy. Since he spoke flawless English and his features were more Anglo than Mexican, it was easy for him to move in the political and social circles of the United States. With dual citizenship, he had no problems traveling back and forth and, through his family, he had numerous high level contacts from which he could readily glean information.
While many of their contemporaries were enjoying the profits from flooding the U.S. with drugs, Jerome felt there were other efforts which would bring about greater results. The answer for Jerome and his cousins was to bring about economic catastrophe.
Jerome’s plan was to utilize the great number of people who moved between the U.S. and Mexico, both legally and illegally, to flood the country with U.S. coinage. With the dies from the mint and the imprinting machines he’d been able to obtain, they could put an enormous amount of money into the system in a short period of time. The beauty of the plan was that, from a technical standpoint, it wouldn’t be counterfeit and, until the Mint could change all of their dies, it would be months — more than likely years — before America could change out all of the coinage. It seemed far-fetched when they first started, but now Jerome realized that, in less than seventy-two hours, he would be sending money back to the U.S.A. — in his efforts to bring the country to its knees.
He cut the wheel and avoided a maroon Mustang which had ignored a stop sign. Jerome resisted giving the driver the finger.
Picking up his phone, he speed dialed. It wasn’t as easy with the driving gloves as if he had been bare-handed; but, gloves were a necessity. The call was picked up on the second ring. “Please be ready to go in a half-hour. We will be heading south as I discussed.” He disconnected. He had the address to which he was headed in the anonymously rented car’s navigation system and it showed he should arrive in ten minutes. He hoped Mustafa would have everything ready. He wanted to be quickly on his way, since any time waiting around was time for the authorities to catch up with them.
After a series of turns the navigation system had advised he make, he found himself pulling up to a small ranch house with three white vans in front. Jerome was hap
py to see that white magnetic pieces had been placed over the signage painted on two of the vans, so they couldn’t be identified. He would be leaving in a van that was in the garage, one that he’d left there the previous evening, abandoning the rental car. He had never touched it with his bare hands, nor combed his hair nor worn anything while driving it but commonly available Levi jeans and knit shirts from J.C. Penney.
Slowly, Jerome stepped out of his car, looked around to see if anything seemed out of place. The neighborhood was quiet, with a considerable number of cars parked on the street as well as in the driveways. But, nothing showed signs of not fitting. He walked to the side door of the house and quietly knocked.
Mustafa appeared and let Jerome in. They had only met in person twice before.
Jerome held out his hand. “You have done a great job. As I promised, you will be rewarded.”
“Thank you. It worked better than I planned.” Mustafa didn’t want to jeopardize his payoff and future by telling Jerome about the incident as they left the Mint. He’d watched the neighborhood since they arrived and hadn’t seen anything which led him to believe they had been followed or were being watched.
“Where are they?” Jerome inquired.
Enemy Among Us-A Jordan Wright Thriller Page 26
