by Henry Hack
“Everyone but the bad guys,” Harry said. “Here’s our long sought after murderer of Richie Winston. I guess we can finally close the case.”
“Yes, we can,” Pop agreed. He got on the radio and filled in Walt. Lieutenant Campbell broke in and said, “We have to keep this under wraps for now. Get all the bodies and the wounded over to Kings County Hospital. Don’t talk to the press. After you search the place, put some uniformed cops on it and lock it down tight. Nobody goes in until I say so. Then bring everything you find back here right away. Take his computer, papers, everything. Got all that?”
“We got it, Boss,” John responded.
Back at headquarters a fast review of all Ramzi’s computer files, after the FBI Intelligence Unit cracked the password, revealed the names and addresses of his four cell leaders, now all dead in the morgue. “Let’s hit those addresses now,” Campbell said. “We may get lucky if their cell members are assembled there awaiting word from their leaders. If not, we may be able to find their locations from any records we pick up.”
The hit at Ahmed’s place, where Abu was waiting for his return, went smoothly. The Emergency Services Bureau team made its entry quietly and quickly, and Abu surrendered meekly. The hits at the other three cell leader’s locations went just as well, and fifteen more cell members, as well as all their weapons, were now in custody. Not one shot was fired by a JTTF member, but when one cell member had foolishly tried to flee and jump through a window, he got a gun butt across his head from Jerry Campora for that stupid move. By 8:30, all the arrestees were being interviewed by teams of detectives, and Lieutenant Campbell assembled his team in the conference room for a de-briefing. “We hope we put them on hold for awhile with the death of Ramzi,” he said. “We’re going to publicize our actions on the eleven o’clock news tonight, and maybe buy some time.”
“You know,” Pop said, “I should get over to Kings County Hospital and see if Ziad will talk to us before he lawyers up. He should be out of surgery by now.”
“Good idea,” Campbell said.
“I’d like to go with you,” Harry said.
“Me, too,” Nick said.
“I think Ziad will tell us everything,” Harry said. “He shot those guys for a reason.”
The police officer on guard duty outside the room told them Ziad was awake and cuffed to the bed by one ankle.
“How are you doing, Ziad? Harry asked.
“I…I do not know your name.”
“Harry Cassidy. Are you going to fully recover?”
“Yes, I think so. They took two bullets out of my body, and I lost a lot of blood.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Did I kill them all?”
“Yes, you did.”
“Praise Be to Allah. I am avenged.”
“Avenged for what?” Pop asked.
“They wanted to kill me and threatened to kill my parents.”
“Why?”
“Because of all the wanted posters. They figured if the police got me first I would tell of their plans.”
“Was that poster accurate? Did you stab that bartender?” Pop asked.
“Yes. Satam and Ahmed were with me. We were close friends then.”
“Ziad,” Harry said. “We need your help. We think we may have temporarily derailed OBL-911’s attack this coming weekend. What do you know of their other plans?”
“Very little. I have been in hiding.”
“Do you know the names, or locations, of the other section chiefs besides Ramzi?”
“No, even Ahmed did not know them, but he told me of Ramzi’s superior.”
“The area leader?” Pop said. “Do you know his name?”
“It is Muhammed Fayez Boussara, and he is the eastern area leader.”
“How many more area leaders are there?” Nick asked.
“I do not know.”
“Can you tell us anything else about OBL-911?” Pop asked. “Anything that might help us stop them?”
“No, but do not only stop them, kill them. And Officer Cassidy, thank you for being kind that night in front of the bar.”
“Yeah, but then you guys went too far. A good beating would have been sufficient, but doing what you did caused a lot of grief to you, me and a lot of others. In spite of that, I hope you get better soon.”
“Thanks. When those guys in the bar threw me through the glass door and you came by you looked at me with real concern in your eyes, and I knew you wanted to help me. But I had to run away. I had two guns and a silencer in my boots.”
“No wonder you booked. You know I always wondered why those assholes destroyed their own door. Why not just throw you out the normal way?”
“They meant to, but when the one guy opened the door he pushed it too hard. It hit the wall and ended up swinging back closed again just as the others heaved me out.”
“Those morons couldn’t do anything right.”
“Do you think it is safe for my parents to come back?”
“Where are they?” Pop asked.
“Saudi Arabia. I convinced them they had to leave the country for awhile.”
“With Ramzi and Ahmed dead I don’t think that is a problem,” Pop said.
“Would you help me contact them?”
“What can we do?” Nick asked.
“Take these keys,” he said, reaching into the nightstand drawer. “Take them to my home, go inside, and look for a telephone book in the desk which is in the corner of the parlor. If you can bring it to me, I can find the number of the relatives where my parents are staying.”
“We can do that for you,” Pop said.
“You are most kind. I wish I could help you more.”
“Try to remember anything that could assist us in getting Boussara and the chiefs still out there.”
“Can’t you use methods to make those who you arrested talk to you?”
“Like put their nuts in a vise and squeeze?” Nick asked.
“Something like that.”
“We don’t, and can’t use torture in this country,” Pop said.
“Too bad, because I assure you, that is the only way you will ever get them to talk.”
That evening, as they watched TV in Rita’s apartment, the story topped the opening five minutes of the news as the excited anchors broadcast the details. The release from the NYMPD and the JTTF said, the agents came upon a suspicious situation in a home in the Fort Greene section of the boro, and before they could enter the premises, a gun battle erupted among six suspected terrorists, leaving five dead and one seriously wounded. Papers found at the scene indicated they belonged to a terrorist organization called OBL-911 and they were planning attacks in the New York City area this up-coming weekend. The scope and nature of the attacks were not disclosed by police spokesmen, nor was the reason for the internal dispute among the alleged terrorists. Leads developed afer the shootout have led to the arrests of sixteen suspected members of OBL-911 and they are being interviewed, and held in custody, pending arraignment on a variety of charges. We hope to have more details later in the broadcast.
“I sure hope Mr. Boussara saw that,” Harry said. “That should get him in an uproar.”
The newscaster continued with the regular gory events of the day and Harry started to drift off. Rita said, “I’ll let you sleep now. I know it has been a long day.”
“Yes, but a good one for a change. I guess the only downside with Ahmed and Ramzi dead is our informant, Ali, has no more connections to get in with them.”
“Maybe you won’t need him anymore. Maybe this is all over.”
“Or maybe we just pissed them off,” Harry said.
Muhammed Fayez Boussara faithfully watched the eleven o’clock news. He had prepared a cup of tea and was taking his first sip when the broadcast came on. He listened in disbelief and his cup clattered in the saucer as he dropped it down. What went wrong? How could this be? How would bin Yousef react? He had better think hard about his options before he dared speak to the le
ader of al-Qaida and OBL-911, but now he had to call his four other section chiefs and call off the attacks until he could accurately assess the damage done. They would all have to re-locate, and he would have to leave his Newark headquarters. OBL-911 had taken an unexpected hit, but he would re-group—and he would attack soon.
6
It had been four days since the shootout at 362-A Clinton Avenue and the ensuing round-up of all sixteen cell members of the group led by section chief, Ramzi al-Midhar. Lieutenant Campbell looked at his men and said, “Well guys, where do we go from here? Can any of you come up with something—anything—to further the investigation? All I can think of myself is to try to get some of those cell members sprung from jail and maintain surveillance on them. Does anyone have a better idea?”
“Lieutenant,” Harry asked, “how good do we have these guys anyway?”
“Not good at all. They had no written plans or weapons on their persons. The best we have is a low-level conspiracy, maybe two to five years if we’re lucky.”
The phone rang and Campbell picked it up and spoke for several minutes. It was obvious he was not happy with the conversation. He hung up and said, “Wait’ll you hear this shit. That was the assistant U.S attorney handling the case. All the charges we filed on the sixteen cell members, except the one resisting arrest charge, were just dismissed.”
They all shook their heads in disbelief and John said, “What the hell happened?”
“Their lawyer, Faysal Pervez, argued we hadn’t established a prima-facie case for a conspiracy charge, since there was no overt act committed by any of them in furtherance of a crime. He also said the ‘innocent young men’ were merely gathered at a location where weapons were hidden, and no connection between them, and those weapons, had been shown by us.”
“And the judge bought that line of lawyer crap, and dropped the charges?” Nick asked.
“Yeah, and they are now once more walking the street free as birds.”
“Should we attempt to follow them?” Harry asked.
“Follow sixteen guys with the seven of us?” John said. “I don’t think so.”
“We could just follow Abu and one from each of the other three cells,” Nick said.
“I like that idea,” Campbell said. “I’ll get some help for you guys to partner up with because I know how much you love long, lonely surveillance jobs.”
“A few hot female agents and detectives would make those long, lonely nights just fly right by, Boss,” Nick said with a big grin.
Three days after the weekend attacks had failed, Eastern Area Leader Muhammed Fayez Boussara, was contacted by Fasiym ali Hassan, the chief aide to al-Qaida leader Khalid al-Habib bin Yousef. Ali Hassan conveyed bin Yousef’s extreme displeasure the planned attacks had not occurred. He said bin Yousef wanted a complete accounting of the reasons for failure, and of all monies expended. He then asked, “Where are you now, Boussara?”
“I am at al-Rahim’s headquarters in Washington while I decide on a new headquarters location in New York.”
“Remain there; our great leader will contact you shortly. I hope you have the right answers to assuage his anger.”
“What will you say to bin Yousef when he calls?” Zacarias al-Rahim, Boussara’s trusted deputy and munitions provider asked.
“I will remind him I have fought, and won, many battles in the past. Bin Yousef knows my value to OBL-911, and to al-Qaida.”
“I hope his memory is good, Muhammad, but even if it is, this one failure may wipe out all your past successes.”
“I share your fears, my friend, but I have to try to convince him all is not lost.”
Ten minutes later the phone rang and bin Yousef wasted no words. “Explain your failure, Boussara.”
“We failed in our mission for two reasons my great leader. A member of one of Ramzi’s cells, Ziad Sugami, was not properly trained in Islamic fundamental behavior. His indulgence in alcohol resulted in a violent confrontation with a bartender. Ziad returned to the bar with another cell member and his cell leader to exact revenge. They stabbed and shot the bartender who died some weeks later. The resulting attention from the authorities in their search for Ziad opened the door to our activities.”
“What was the second reason for your failure?”
“I underestimated the abilities of the authorities, in particular the members of the New York/FBI Joint Terrorist Task Force.”
“And what do propose to do now?”
Boussara drew in a breath and said, “Attack.”
“I’m listening.”
“I still have four section chiefs, sixteen cell leaders and eighty jihad warriors under my command. And Faysal Pervez recently informed me he has gained the release of all of the arrested cell members, but one, and that one will be bailed out in a few days.”
“When do you plan to attack?”
“I have not chosen the date, but it will not be too far off. I would like to select a new section chief to replace Ramzi, and also re-constitute his section with new cell leaders and new recruits.”
“No, do not recruit any new members. What if you choose another Ziad? And apportion those who got released from jail among your remaining four sections.”
“Yes, my leader, you are wise. In fact, I will have the section chiefs personally screen all their current members for any weaknesses, and eliminate them if necessary.”
“As you should have eliminated Ziad and Ahmed long ago, Muhammed.”
“Yes, Khalid.”
“All right, you have another chance. If you fail again may Allah protect you from my retribution. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, my great leader.”
“Good. Advise me when your plans are finalized. And have Ziad and his family killed as an example to the others in your area. Do it quickly before they decide to cooperate with the authorities.”
“It will be done as you say. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to lead the attack. I will not fail you this time.”
After he disconnected from bin Yousef, Boussara took a few deep breaths. He looked at Zacarias and said, “Will you still be able to supply the planes?”
“Yes, they will be ready when you want them.”
“Excellent. I must get back to New York immediately. I have much work to do, but I am optimistic we will be ready to strike soon, just as I promised bin Yousef.”
“I know you did not commit to a date, but may I suggest one to you?”
“Of course.”
“Wednesday, July third. With the holiday the next day there should be an early and heavy rush hour to get out of Manhattan. If we cannot be ready by then we will have to wait until Labor Day, in September, to have the same effect.”
“I was thinking it would take us about a month to get ready again, so that day would be a good goal to strive for. July third it will be then—Allah willing.”
Boussara wasted no time in implementing his plans. A few days after his conversation with bin Yousef, he found a new location in Newark He placed a call to Faysal Pervez and said, “Faysal do you have any clients lodged in the Nassau County Jail?”
“Several, Muhammed.”
“Select two of those most dedicated to our jihad and pay them a visit. Instruct them to locate, and kill, a traitor to our cause—Ziad Sugami. If he is not there yet, he will be shortly upon his release from the hospital. And Faysal, immediacy is of the essence. Our great leader, bin Yousef himself, has ordered this death. Ziad could do great harm to our cause if he speaks out. Let us both not suffer his anger if we fail to carry out his edict.”
“I assure you, Boussara, it will be done as you ask.”
Boussara placed another call to one of his section chiefs who he had put in charge of Ramzi’s territory. The assignment he gave him was the murder of Ziad’s parents, Omar and Wafa Sugami. Again he stressed the importance and expediency of the mission and bin Yousef’s involvement in ordering the kill. The section chief assured his area leader the job would be carried out immedia
tely, praise Allah, as directed.
Five days after Boussara issued his order to Pervez, John McKee received a call from Detective Tara Brown in Nassau Homicide. “We just got a notification from the Nassau County lockup,” she said. “Ziad Sugami is dead. I know he was involved with your investigation of OBL-911, so I figured I’d give you a shout. I’m on my way to the jail now. I’ll get back to you as soon as I get the straight scoop on this.”
When Tara arrived, the warden took her to Ziad’s cell where he was lying on his bunk having been cut down from the overhead bars. “I doubt Ziad’s death was a suicide,” she said. “It’s obvious he was beaten badly before his death. Can you give me any help on this?”
“I’m afraid not, Detective. No one has yet come forward with any information. I guess you have your work cut out for you.”
“I sure do, and I’m not too optimistic about solving it anytime soon.”
Tara called John to give him the details of the murder and he said, “OBL-911 probably ordered the killing for revenge, or for a warning to others, or to silence him before he decided to talk. But he did talk to us already, and we believe he told us all he knew, which wasn’t much.”
“Okay, let me see what I can do,” she said. “I’ll keep you up to date.”
John turned to Pop and said, “I wonder if Ziad’s parents are also in danger.”
“Good thinking. Let’s get right over there.”
Thirty minutes later Walt pulled the car to a stop in front of the Sugami’s house and he, John and Pop jumped out and raced to the side door. It was locked, and the house looked unoccupied. They rang the bell and waited with hands on their guns. After two minutes they kicked in the door and went inside. Omar and Wafa Sugami were sprawled on the living room floor, each with multiple gunshot wounds to their bodies. They notified Queens Homicide and Walt said, “We’re not finished with these guys. Not by a long shot.”
“Jesus,” Pop said, “This is all my fault. I told Ziad to tell his parents it was safe to come home. They’re dead because of me.”
