by Rafael Hines
“Don’t let anything happen to that young man.”
“Yes sir.”
Cell phones around the room went off simultaneously.
“Mr. President, there’s been another bombing in New York.”
“God damn it! Where?”
“The terrorists went after Sergeant Bishop and his cousin directly. They blew up a bar in downtown Manhattan where they were having drinks. The entire building was destroyed. The number of casualties is still unknown sir. We had surveillance teams on site and video is coming in now,” Terry Hall said.
They all looked over at the giant wall monitor. The video was shot from the roof of a surveillance van parked across the street from Still Bar. It showed a cab pulling up in front and a man exiting the back door with a large explosive device wrapped around his torso. Before the terrorist reached the bar’s front door two men ran towards him and shot him multiple times. Badly wounded, he still managed to stagger inside. As the first of the gunmen put his hand on the door handle he disappeared in the bright light of the huge explosion that blew outwards and across the street directly towards the camera.
In the aftermath the two-story building was completely demolished. Cars were smashed and burning, and even the street itself was ripped up. The camera panned to show the wide path of destruction. The adjoining buildings were on fire and debris floated in the smoke-filled air.
“Son of a bitch!” the president shouted. After a brief pause he asked, “Terry, were those your men caught in the blast? The ones shooting?”
“No sir. We believe the uncle had his own security team watching them.”
“So even with FBI agents and a private security team for protection these terrorists can’t be stopped. They’re executing our citizens while we watch and take pictures.”
“Mr. President, although your trip to New York is still a secret, I strongly recommend that you postpone it until after we get these guys.”
“I think my surprise visit to the U.N. will show the world that we won’t be intimidated. I’ll be there tomorrow, Terry, but I still want it kept under wraps until my arrival.”
“Very well, sir. If you’ll excuse me I need to get up there. I’m going back to New York to be on scene,” Terry said and stood up to leave.
“Gloves off, Terry. The Patriot Act enables you to execute no knock warrants on any persons of interest. Use it. We all know what’s at stake here, gentleman. They’ve brought the war home to us. These terrorists must be stopped immediately. Killed or captured I don’t care which. Do you have all the resources that you need?”
“I could use a hundred more agents.”
“Done. Now let me be clear. We’ve all seen the movie ‘Siege’ with Denzel. I’d hate to have life imitate art here; however, we will declare Martial Law in New York if we don’t get some quick results. Understood?”
“Yes, Mr. President. I will give you an assessment once I get there, sir.
“Very well.”
“Special Ops teams, Terry?” General Palmer asked.
“On standby, so I can use them if I need them, General.”
“Keep me updated regardless of the time.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Terry said as he rushed out of the room with General Palmer at his side. They were both on their cell phones giving terse commands as they headed towards the FBI helo that was revved and waiting.
Chapter 19
We’re On Our Way
Brooklyn, NY
The Valdez brothers and Antonio were watching the news reports about John, Felix, and Gonzalo.
“We expected their names to be released, but this? What is this mierda they are saying about them?” asked Fiero.
“This must be Meecham,” Gonzalo said. “They even gave out John’s address.”
From across the river a huge fire ball rose above the skyline. They all stared at Manhattan in silence, fearing the worst.
Antonio saw the call on the cell phone that was only used for the most extreme emergencies. He didn’t bother to leave the room this time and knew it was bad news before he picked it up. The breach in security protocol alerted all the brothers that something was indeed very wrong. Antonio’s face was ashen as he listened to Benji. Then he simply said, “We’re on our way,” and hung up.
He turned to his father and his uncles.
“A bomber got out of a cab in front of the bar where John, Felix and Chris were. My men shot him in the street… but he… he got inside and detonated. The building was destroyed,” Antonio said, trying to keep hold of his emotions.
Carlos and Macho exploded out of their seats and ran out of the room to get to their sons. The others raced close behind. Antonio stumbled after them, but Gonzalo pulled him aside.
“Whatever has happened is not your fault, Antonio. We all approved your security measures.”
“But Tio I should have…” Antonio said helplessly, his eyes welling up with tears.
Gonzalo cut him off with a crisp slap to the face and said, “No tears and no weakness. We are at war. Learn from this moment, Antonio. Let us pray they are alive, but whatever the outcome, make sure this night has made you stronger. To be the head of a family, to lead this family, you have to be stronger than everyone else. Even when you don’t want to be. Learn from this and remember, we still must find and kill our enemies.”
They quickly embraced each other and then hurried out of the room, racing to the city to discover the fate of the three cousins.
Queens, NY
Kev, Ed and Danny were all watching the CNN reports about John, Felix and Gonzalo while they continued their research. All three stopped multitasking and stiffened when they heard the first reports of another bombing. Kevin’s cell phone rang. The only people who had the new number were his partners sitting next to him, the soldiers upstairs, and the Valdez brothers.
“This is bad news, fellas,” he said before answering. He picked up and listened to the steely, heavily accented voice on the other end.
“We’re on our way, Fiero,” was his only response.
“They blew up John, Felix, and young Chris at a bar downtown in front of the FBI and Antonio’s security team.”
“Motherfuckers,” Danny said.
“Chris… isn’t he Macho’s son?” Ed asked.
“Yep.”
“We went to his baptism.”
“Yep.”
“Are they all gone for sure?” asked Danny.
“No confirmation, but it don’t look good. Let’s mount up. Grab the gear. I’ll brief our soldiers and get the van started,” Kevin said. He ran up the stairs shouting to Christmas and his men.
They all knew that their mission intensity level was now off the charts. The three of them had to do what all the branches of law enforcement were trying to accomplish with the government’s unlimited resources: find every person involved in the bombings. The catch was that Kevin, Ed and Danny had to find them first.
Upper East Side, Manhattan
Maria was printing out the travel itineraries for her and John’s weeklong trip. She was sitting at her father’s desk when she heard a groan and dishes breaking in the living room. She rushed in to see what happened and saw her mother on her knees sobbing in front of the television. The cup of tea and the plate of cookies she had been holding lay broken and scattered across the wood floor.
Maria didn’t comprehend what she was seeing at first. Her vision was blurry as she stared at the images of the collapsed and burning buildings. From someplace far away she barely heard the voice of the reporter repeatedly saying the name John Bishop. Then her father ran in and put his arms around her. The fog cleared in her head and Maria let out a primal scream.
“Nooooooooo!”
The phone rang and Maria’s father passed her to her mother before he took the call. He stared into his little girl’s fearful eyes as he listened to the voice on the other end.
“We’re on our way,” he said softly.
“That was Antonio. A suicide bomber blew
up the bar where the boys were drinking.”
“He’s not dead, Daddy. Johnny can’t be dead. Not now.”
“I know, baby. I know. Get dressed. We’re all going down there.”
LES
The boys were known by everyone and word traveled fast through the neighborhood.
“What up fellas?”
“Yo dog, you heard what happened to Chris?
“Nah, what?”
“Those jihad motherfuckers blew him up. Him and his cousins.”
“Chris? You serious?
“Dead serious.”
“Those motherfuckas.”
“When?”
“’Bout half an hour ago.”
“Where at?”
“At that bar up on Third Ave. We’re on our way up there now. See if we can help.”
“And find out who needs to get got.”
“You packin’?”
“Fo sho. Locked and loaded.”
“Wait up, lemme get mine. Call the rest of the fellas. Tell ‘em to tool up and meet us there.”
“I’m on it.”
Hundreds of people, both family and friends rushed to the scene in cars, on bikes and on foot.
Atlantic Ocean, 75 miles off the East coast of the United States
They were headed to Andrews Air Force base in Maryland when the pilot patched the call through. Bear was stone faced. He listened without saying a word.
“We’re on our way, sir,” Bear said and hung up the phone. The Air Force transport made a sharp turn northwards.
“Listen up.”
“What’s up, Chief?”
Bear’s voice was monotone. Each sentence short and flat. “A suicide bomber blew up Johnny and his family. Leave is cancelled. We’re changing flight plans. We fly into New York and meet General Palmer at the scene.”
There was a long stunned silence as each man reflected on what he’d just heard.
“This is unreal. Johnny gets wasted by an Afghan terrorist a week after he left the army and stopped fighting Afghan terrorists,” Able said.
“This is one cruel and twisted world,” Bobby said.
“Someone’s gonna find out just how cruel real soon,” Mace said.
“We’re burning these fuckers down,” Bear said.
JFK International Airport, Queens, NY
The flight attendants uniform was the perfect cover and the trip through customs was quick and easy. Gliding casually through the airport as every screen displayed CNN’s coverage of the latest bombing, right away Omar knew that this had to be a direct attack on the soldier. Amir wouldn’t waste his resources on such a small target after the failure in the park. Omar decided the bar was a good place to start the search and directed the cab towards downtown Manhattan.
“We’re on our way,” said the friendly driver as they pulled away from the curb.
“Excuse me?”
“I said here we go, we’re on our way.”
“Yes. Yes we are, aren’t we,” said Omar the Blade.
Chapter 20
Ghosts
The crowd, filled with spectators, friends, and family, continued to swell and was running out of patience as they watched fire fighters pound water onto the smoldering mass of rubble that had once been Still Bar.
“I need you all to back up!” said one of the cops straining to control what was quickly turning into an angry mob.
“You back the fuck up!”
“That’s our people in there!”
“What’s taking so long!?”
“How come they’re not going in?”
“If they won’t I will!”
“We all will!”
“Who’s in charge?”
“Those dudes over there drinking coffee.”
Captain Ryan, along with FBI, Bomb Squad, ATF, and ESU team leaders were getting an update from the Fire Chief when Special Agent in Charge Terry Hall jogged over.
“Where are we with this mess?”
“The fires are pretty well contained. The main problem now is the structural integrity of the two adjacent buildings. I don’t want my people or yours digging around for bodies and then have one or both of those six story monsters come down on top of them.”
“Can’t we shore them up?”
“Yeah we can, but we need cranes and braces.”
“Do it. How much time?”
“It’ll take at least an hour, maybe two to get all the equipment here from the Bronx and probably another four hours after that to make it safe. Its 2AM now, so by 8 we can start digging.”
“Make it happen. Jimmy, can your guys give the cranes a police escort and clear the streets so we can save some time?”
“Can do Terry.”
“Now, everything on this goes through me. Everything. And I want everyone sharing what they’ve got, whether it’s hard evidence or just a hunch. We clear?”
Heads nodded in agreement all around the circle that had formed on Terry.
“I’m reporting directly to the president on this so let’s not screw this up. The other thing is no one, and I mean no one, talks to the press. Get the word out to the rank and file. Anyone talks, they lose their badge on the spot. I’ll make a short statement now and we’ll give a full press conference in the morning after we start digging. All right, let’s get to work,” he said as he walked towards the screaming reporters.
“That’s Terry Hall from the FBI,” Gonzalo said.
“You know him?” Fiero asked.
“Met him once.”
“Turn the TV on so we can hear his statement.”
Calixto picked up the remote and pointed it at the wall mounted flat screen. They were looking down on the scene from a third floor apartment directly across the street. Benji Medina kept his head after the bombing. He acquired their new HQ by knocking on doors until he found the young couple willing to take twenty grand cash to vacate their home so Gonzalo and his brothers could see without being seen.
They all listened to the Terry Hall give his public statement on the TV behind them, but their eyes stayed glued to the smoking pile of twisted metal, split beams and crumbled bricks across the street. The boys were somewhere in that wreckage.
Carlos was nervously hitting his thigh with his fist. “This is taking too long,” he said.
“They’re worried about the side buildings coming down.”
“We can’t sit here for six or eight hours. They’re in there! They need help now!” Macho shouted.
Antonio burst through the front door with Benji. “You remember Manolo? He works for us and knows the back building. His sister lives there. We can go through her side window and it’s about twenty, maybe twenty-five feet down to the alley that connects to the back of the bar.”
“I’m going,” Carlos and Macho said at the same time.
“One of my guys was a medic in Iraq and I’ve got another who was an EMT,” said Benji. “I’ll get some of the kids to jack an ambo for supplies and load it into backpacks. I already ordered the rope ladders so give me ten minutes and we can go in.”
As Benji ran out of the room with Carlos and Macho, Antonio made another announcement.
“There’s someone downstairs in the lobby waiting to see you, Tio.”
“Who knows we’re here?’
Antonio handed him the business card that read CIA with the title of Deputy Director under the name.
“Ah. Bring him up. He is an old friend.”
Clayton Unser entered the room a minute later and Gonzalo directed him to the bedroom so they could speak privately.
“I’m very sorry about your nephews.”
“Is that why you are here? To tell me the CIA is sorry for my family’s suffering?”
“No. CIA doesn’t care about your family, but I do. The sorry is from me, Don Valdez.”
“Then thank you, old friend. Now what does CIA want?”
“Help.” Clayton handed over a thick manila folder. It was a complete dossier on Aziz Khan, his history, known associat
es, and all the intel that had been gathered so far on the attacks in New York.
“You understand this is personal for me. When I find anyone involved they stay alive only long enough to tell me who else is involved.”
“You’ll have no interference from us. Just do what you do best.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes… oh, there is one more thing,” Unser said. He handed Gonzalo a second folder.
“There always is.” Gonzalo opened the folder and smiled for the first time. “Now I know you need something from me in return.”
“Yes I do.”
“What?”
“Don’t kill them all. Get what you need, but save a few for us and fill me in on any information that can help us in the war on terror.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it my friend. Will your people need assistance with international travel arrangements?”
“Yes. I will let you know when.”
“Good hunting, Gonzalo.”
“Thank you, Clayton.”
He walked Unser to the front door and turned to Fiero.
“Send them in.”
Kevin, Ed and Danny were working from their van parked a block away when they were ordered to come up. The mood in the room was tense and somber so other than head nods all around there were no formal greetings. Gonzalo handed over the folder on Aziz.
“This is the man responsible. Find him.”
“Aziz Khan? A lot of people have been trying to kill this guy for years.”
“You have a much shorter time line.”
“Yes, Don Valdez. We understand,” Kevin said uneasily.
“While you’re working on that you must first help us eliminate his entire local organization led by the nephew.”
“Anything else?” Kevin asked, as Danny began carefully taking pictures of each page with a high speed digital camera so they could upload them into their own system and leave the originals.
“Yes. This,” Gonzalo said. He dropped the second folder on the glass coffee table.
