The Consultant

by TJ O'Connor

  What?

  “Jon Hunter, are you to be okay?” The woman jumped forward and began cutting my bonds and freeing me from the chair. “They used electric gun on you many times. Then stick needle in your arm. But this has passed, I think. Can you stand?”

  I grabbed her hand and pulled the knife from it. “Who are you?”

  “I am Gianna Nazari.” She stepped back beneath the single light that hung from the beamed ceiling. “It means, ‘Allah is Merciful.’ Kevin just called me ‘G.’”

  CHAPTER 75

  Day 7: May 21, 0030 Hours, Daylight Saving Time

  Sandy Creek—Sand Town—Rural Frederick County, Virginia

  “WHERE IS SAEED Mansouri?” Caine asked the mechanic standing on a ladder and inspecting the bus’s engine. “Where is the other bus?”

  “He left a while ago,” the mechanic said. “He said he will meet you at the resting place. This bus would not start. I fix it now. You may go soon.”

  Caine looked around the garage at the bus. Seats had been ripped out and tossed about the garage. Three or four of Saeed’s best mechanics worked feverishly outside the bus. Just walking off the bus were two men wearing gray, baggy biohazard suits complete with respirators. They moved sluggishly as they climbed down the stairs onto the garage floor. Sitting across the garage floor, eyeing Caine, were two of Saeed’s men. Both held AK-74 assault rifles and lazily guarded the group of mechanics around the shop.

  A young man, perhaps twenty, walked from a rear storage area carrying a heavy wooden crate that had the top open. Caine stopped him and glanced inside.

  There were dull, grayish bricks wrapped in opaque plastic.

  “Plastic explosives?” Caine asked the mechanic. “Where’d you get this?”

  The man shrugged. “I do not know. Saeed had us place them inside the other bus. Now we must do the same to this one.” He gestured to one of the biohazard-suited men to retrieve the box from him.

  “Why was I not told about this?” Caine moved closer to the bus as the mechanic closed the bus hood and descended the ladder. “How long ago did Saeed leave?”

  “Maybe an hour?” He wiped his hands on a rag from his pocket. “Is everything all right? I do what he say. Can I go home now? Will he release my wife?”

  “I hope so.” Caine threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Go now. All of you. Go to the old theatre building at the edge of town. Your families will be there. There are four dead men. Saeed Mansouri’s men. Say nothing. All of you, stay in the theatre with your families until I come for you.”

  The mechanic’s eyes got big and the other workers surrounded him. “What is this you tell us, Caine? Is this a trick?”

  One of the armed guards spoke to his partner, and they both stood and approached Caine. The first guard said, “They stay. Their work is not done. Saeed ordered—”

  Caine slid the silenced .22 from the small of his back and shot both guards where they stood. He turned to the group of garage workers and eyed them one at a time.

  “Go. Saeed won’t be back tonight. I’ll come for you all in the morning. Go now. Stay there. No one will harm you or your families any longer.”

  * * *

  Caine waited until the men were well down the road and gone into the darkness. He quickly inspected the mechanics’ progress on the bus. They were all but finished. Only the explosives were left to be connected. The sarin cylinders had been connected to Doc’s makeshift spray system beneath the bus and readied to be primed using the air tanks mounted inside the rear of the bus. With the plastic explosives in place, the bus would have been capable of killing thousands more.

  He looked around to make sure he’d not missed any of Saeed’s men on the streets. Satisfied he was still undetected, he carefully checked the cylinders inside the bus. He found the three notches he’d scrapped into the cylinders and breathed easier. Then he retreated from the bus.

  Taking one last survey of the street outside the old garage, he tossed an M-67 fragmentation grenade into the open bus door and ran full flank for cover.

  Five seconds later, the bus and garage erupted. The ball of flames lit the night sky like a ravenous thunderstorm and the explosion split the air with deafening percussion.

  Operation Maya was nearly through.

  CHAPTER 76

  Day 7: May 21, 0030 Hours, Daylight Saving Time

  Sandy Creek—Sand Town—Rural Frederick County, Virginia

  “YOU’RE ‘G’?” It had taken me a while to get my feet under me and shake off the beating and drugs Saeed Mansouri’s men used to control me. But soon, I was able to move about. In a pile in the corner of the room were my running shoes, wallet, and even my .45 with my spare magazines. These guys were so confident I was done, they didn’t bother to take them away. Unfortunately, they were cautious with my cell phone. They had smashed it to bits.

  I checked my .45’s chamber and slipped it into my jeans. “You worked for Kevin?”

  “Baleh.” Gianna searched Khaled and pulled a .32 Derringer out of his pants. She tucked it deep into the front of her jeans. Then she pulled her dull blue work shirt out and hung it over the almost unnoticeable bulge from the handgun. “He pay me to tell him things about Saeed and Caine. Things he could not find himself.”

  “I understand. Did you send Ghali to meet me at the library?”

  She nodded. “Baleh. I think maybe you help me after Kevin killed. But you did not stop Saeed’s attack on the mall, so I was not sure. Ghali say he help me. Now, Ghali dead, too.”

  “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t my fault.”

  She looked down, pulled her hajib off her head, and nodded. “Nah. It was my fault.”

  As I moved slowly around trying to get my muscles to fully awaken, I watched her. She watched me, too. Finally, I asked the million-dollar questions.

  “Gianna, do you know who killed my brother?”

  “Baleh.” She looked down. “Kevin was a good man. At first, yes. Kevin ask my help and we make a deal. Later, he change very much. He demanded more and more until I tell him I no help him anymore. He was a different man.”

  Whatever happened to Kevin was more than I knew. “What happened? Do you know what changed him?”

  “No.” She looked away. “But he not the same man. Must be something very bad. Then I find out about Khalifah’s plans from Saeed Mansouri’s men. I tell Kevin. He very scared. He very angry. I try to find out more but then he killed.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me sooner, Gianna?” I found my Mark 1 injection kit jammed into one of my running shoes as I slipped them on. “You could have talked to me at the café or the cemetery.”

  “No, but Ghali and I tried to reach you after.” She watched me. “We did not do well.”

  I went to her and took her arm gently. “Gianna, who killed Kevin?”

  “Khalifah.” She turned and walked to the stairs leading up to wherever. “Now, we must go. You must stop the buses.”

  The buses? “What buses, Gianna?”

  She looked toward the stairs. “Khalifah’s big attack. Maya. Saeed make the town men fix two buses. They steal them from somewhere I do not know. The men put strange pipes and things on these buses. I hear one of Saeed’s close men say the pipes will spray gas and germs. The town men very afraid to work there, but Saeed has the families. Early today, the buses are ready.”

  I’d seen the buses. I’d been within twenty feet of them just yesterday. Khalifah had the sarin and it was loaded on those very buses. Operation Maya was about to launch, and I’d been right there and failed to know it.

  She inched to the stairs and stopped to listen. “We must hurry.”

  I moved beside her. “Where are we?”

  “You call this place Sand Town.”

  Of course. “Have you seen others? Kevin’s wife and son?”

  “Baleh, Noor and Sameh. Khalifah, he bring them here. Now, I think they with Saeed. They are in much danger. We hurry.”

  “Where are they now?”

  She shrugg
ed. “I do not know. I think Saeed take them and leave.”

  “Let’s go.” I started up the stairs following my gunsights. “Do you know where Khalifah is going to attack next?”

  “No, I do not. I am sorry. Saeed already left in one bus. The gas they put on the buses is very bad. I have seen gas used in my country. It is horrible. Khalifah will use it soon with two buses.”

  There were two attacks? “How many of Saeed’s men are around here?”

  “Maybe six.” Gianna tried to smile but couldn’t. Her face was stone and her eyes cold and intense. “You kill them or they kill us. Noor and Sam Mallory, too. You kill Saeed’s men first. Kill them all.”

  I liked Gianna. I liked her plan even more.

  CHAPTER 77

  Day 7: May 21, 0100 Hours, Daylight Saving Time

  Sandy Creek—Sand Town—Rural Frederick County, Virginia

  GIANNA AND I emerged from the basement of an abandoned shop on the outskirts of Sand Town. Hiding behind some overgrown shrubs outside, we scanned the streets and surrounding homes looking for any sign of Saeed Mansouri’s men.

  Nothing.

  No, that wasn’t true. Behind the row of buildings, two blocks away, smoke and flames billowed a couple hundred feet above the rooftops.

  Careful to stay in the shadows, we moved along the street to a side road and found our way toward the huge blazing structure.

  “What’s that, Gianna?”

  “The town garage. It where Saeed’s men were working on the buses. I think they make a mistake. This is bad for them.”

  “It’s good for us,” I said. “But we have to stay away from the smoke. There could be dangerous particles in it.”

  Oddly, there was no one around. No workmen, no mechanics, none of Saeed’s men. For as far as we could see along the dark streets, Sand Town was abandoned.

  The empty streets unnerved me.

  Rule five of mortal combat—know where your enemy is. I did not.

  As we got closer to the garage, we saw a school bus buried beneath the collapsing roof. The bus looked like it had exploded from within and caused the blaze. Perhaps an exploding gas tank or other mishap. Whatever the cause, the garage and bus were lost to the fire. That was a good thing. If Saeed had started his operation with two school buses, he was now down to only one.

  One bus down. One to go.

  Surveying the area, I saw something that made my heart stop. A half-block from the burning garage, parked beneath a broad oak tree along the sidewalk, was Kevin’s custom trike motorcycle.

  “Gianna, what’s Kevin’s motorcycle doing here?”

  She was grim. “Maybe Saeed’s men bring it here. But, Sameh, he come here sometimes, too. I do not know why. I never speak to him. He does not know me. I tell Kevin Sameh come here and Kevin got very upset. I think it was a bad thing for them both.”

  “Do you have any idea where Saeed took Sameh and Noor?”

  “I not know where.” She thought a moment while watching the garage finish collapsing onto the destroyed bus carcass. “Some of Saeed’s men do buildings. Construction? They work near the big road—495?”

  “Interstate 495 around DC? Do you think that’s where they went?”

  She thought and her face brightened. “Baleh. I hear Saeed Mansouri say to park between the houses. There is much construction where they go. Many buildings. I bring them once when their car break down. I do not know the address but I show you.”

  A large construction site was a great place to hide an army in the early morning hours. If it was near the Beltway, that made sense. From there, they could hit I-495 and be in Baltimore in forty-five minutes. A school bus making that trip wouldn’t draw attention.

  “Do you have a car?”

  She shook her head and gestured to Kevin’s custom trike. “If you can ride a motorcycle, that looks very fast.”

  CHAPTER 78

  Day 7: May 21, 0355 Hours, Daylight Saving Time

  Ellie’s Wood Development, McLean, Virginia

  I WOULDN’T HAVE found Saeed Mansouri’s staging area without Gianna. It took us nearly two hours to reach the Beltway, and the ride was interesting. I’d ridden my share of motorcycles and mopeds over the years, but the custom trike was very different. Gianna loved it. While she knew we were heading into danger, she giggled a few times as we roared down the highway and over town roads. Her fun didn’t last, though. The closer we got to the Capital Beltway, the less she enjoyed the ride.

  Once we reached I-495, we had to explore several construction sites looking for the right one. We were west of the Capital Beltway, just a couple miles south of the Potomac River. After two false stops at the wrong sites, we found the right one, and Gianna pointed out the entrance. Then, without a cell phone of my own, I was forced to retreat to an all-night convenience store to call LaRue. He was groggy from the hour, and I had to explain things twice before he understood why I was briefing him from the convenience store counter. He was not impressed to say the least.

  My last warning to him was simple. “I’m going in, Oscar. I have no idea if they’re in there or not. If not, we’re screwed. If they are and you’re late to the party, I’m screwed.”

  He grumbled at me and hung up. I’m sure he meant to tell me to be very careful and not take any unnecessary chances. But he was just tired and forgot.

  A few minutes later, we weaved our way back to the development and into a woods where the development’s upscale homes were under construction. Upscale meaning seven thousand square feet and a couple million bucks.

  I parked the trike off the development’s access road and made ready. I had my .45 and three magazines of ammo. Gianna had the Derringer she’d taken off Khaled during our escape. I felt wholly under-armed given the firepower Saeed’s men had used before.

  Hopefully, Oscar would balance the books sooner rather than later.

  “Gianna,” I said, peering around the darkness. “Wait here for LaRue’s people. They should be along soon.”

  She looked at me with a strange face. “Jon Hunter, I help. I know how to use a gun.”

  “I’m sure you do. But I’m going in alone.” I reached over and touched her arm. “Wait for my people. I have to get in there before sunrise. You’ll have to show them where I am.”

  She turned away. “As you say. But later, you wish I come.”

  * * *

  By the time I crept through the woods to the site, the sun had begun to rise and the darkness had started to ebb.

  The construction site had dozens of new home-skeletons all in different phases of completion. Unlike most constructions sites, though, there wasn’t a home being built in this site that was under a couple million bucks. A few were nearly finished with shingled roofs and glassed windows. Others were just frames of wood and pallets of stone, brick, framing materials waiting nearby.

  If there was a safe place to hide a small army and a bus laden with sarin nerve agent, this was it.

  I’d made it to the south side of the site and began a careful house-to-house reconnoiter. After the first partially constructed street, I found Saeed’s lair at the end of a cul-de-sac where five new homes were in various skeletal stages. The entrance was partially paved and the rest dirt and gravel with the enormous structures surrounding the cul-de-sac. Several backhoes, bulldozers, and tool shacks were scattered around the site amidst pallets of redbrick and other building materials. To my benefit, the builder had taken care to leave as much of the surrounding woods intact so it would give the area an immediate mature-neighborhood feel once completed. It also gave me cover. I could move in close without being observed. Hopefully without being observed.

  Four vehicles lined the cul-de-sac entrance on both sides. Behind them were an old pickup truck and a large cargo van. Backed in between two homes in the rear of the cul-de-sac was the school bus. St. Somebody’s Bus 219.

  The entrance was guarded by two sentries positioned on an unfinished veranda on the right side of the road. Both were asleep. There seemed to b
e no one else around, but there had to be more of Saeed’s IRGC commandos somewhere. He wouldn’t leave a major operation like this, nor his bus full of sarin, protected by only two men. Perhaps they were in the vehicles out of view, sleeping. Perhaps they were asleep inside the buildings. Perhaps they were lying in wait for me to step into the open so they could kill me in a hail of bullets.

  Perhaps.

  It took me a solid half hour to find them. They were asleep throughout the buildings and vehicles parked around the site. Saeed wasn’t among them. Neither were Noor and Sam, Caine, or anyone who might be Khalifah.

  The sun began to chase the darkness away, and a faint morning glow filtered over the trees. Sometime soon, Khalifah would give the order, and Saeed would send Bus 219 to kill thousands in Baltimore.

  Since only movie heroes and fools rush in, I slunk through the darkness to Bus 219.

  CHAPTER 79

  Day 7: May 21, 0415 Hours, Daylight Saving Time

  Ellie’s Wood Development, McLean, Virginia

  NONE OF SAEED’S men were guarding Bus 219 close up. Either Saeed was confident that he’d escaped any detection, or he’d put too much faith into his men. Well, there was another option—it was a trap.

  It didn’t matter. I had to take out Bus 219. Trap or not, that bus wasn’t leaving this site.

  The two garages that flanked the bus gave me cover to move from the trees and up close to examine the bus’s exterior. Having not been gunned down yet, I crawled underneath its chassis.

  My heart stopped.

  Tubular steel arteries, perhaps a half-inch in diameter, were fastened along the undercarriage. They led to several small spray nozzles crudely mounted on the bus’s frame. The piping merged in the center of the bus and disappeared up inside the cabin. I crawled out and sneaked aboard, crawling on my hands and knees to continue my inspection.

  Halfway down the aisle, I realized I might already be dead.

  Six stainless-steel cylinders, two feet long and six inches in diameter, were mounted under the center three seats on each side. The cylinders looked like giant whipped cream cans. Strange comparison, I know, but I like whipped cream. Well, not anymore. Each cylinder had metal tubes that connected to some kind of control unit in the rear of the bus along with a larger cylinder marked “Compressed Air.” The control unit and connecting tubes formed an octopus that fed the spray nozzles beneath the bus. The cylinders had strange markings in Arabic. While I didn’t read much Arabic, I didn’t have to. The international symbol for Armageddon was multilingual—a circle around a skull and crossbones.