Box Set - The Time Magnet Series

by Russell Moran

  Chapter 63

  The CIA van, with the inscription “Higby Electric Contractors” on the side of its dented and faded white panel, pulled into the driveway of a home down the block from the al Qaeda safe house. Buster's people had rented the place at an exorbitant price that morning, saying they were from Paramount Pictures and needed the house for a movie scene, on the condition that the occupants vacate immediately. The driver pulled it around back so the van couldn't be seen from the street. Two other vans, both with the Higby Electric magnetic signs on their sides, pulled in behind the first. Joe Monahan was in one of the vehicles with Ben Weinberg sitting next to him.

  The occupants of the vans, 18 armed agents in all, assembled behind the rented house. Buster addressed the group.

  “Okay, folks, we've been through this drill countless times. It's a hostage situation, and the hostage is Navy Admiral Frank Thompson. Our objective is to take him with us safely. There's an interesting twist that's just been announced to me by Director Carlini. We have a prisoner to trade. As soon as the swap is completed, select your targets and open fire on my command. As the only one here who speaks Arabic, I will be the lead negotiator. Any questions?”

  The group fanned out around the house in preselected positions. One of the vans was heavily armored, and Buster rode it to the front of the safe house. He spoke into a microphone and his words were transmitted by a powerful speaker on the other side of the van. Movie scenes usually feature an actor with a megaphone. After years of losing hostage negotiators with megaphones, modern law enforcement demanded a safer means of communication.

  Buster began with the standard hostage negotiation conversation starter.

  “The house is surrounded,” said Buster in Arabic. “Lay down your arms and exit the building with your hands up and nobody will get hurt.”

  Silence. Buster repeated his demand.

  A console operator in the van whispered to Buster that the tracking device indicated that Frank Thompson was on the move. Buster asked for the microphone so he could communicate with Thompson.

  “Admiral, this is Buster. We are going to attempt a prisoner swap. Joe Monahan has volunteered. As soon as the swap is complete and you're in our custody, hit the dirt because all hell is going to break loose. If you understand me, just grunt twice.”

  Thompson indicated that he understood.

  Buster then grabbed the loudspeaker microphone again and offered something more substantive than an order to lay down arms.

  “We have in our custody Joseph Monahan, known to you as Abu Hussein. We propose to surrender Hussein to you in exchange for Admiral Thompson.”

  The front storm door of the house opened, the door banging against the wall as it was kicked open from inside.

  Admiral Thompson appeared on the front porch, his face barely recognizable it was so bruised and swollen. Behind him was a man holding an AK-47 to Thompson's head.

  Chapter 64

  What have they done to my Frankie? I thought as I looked at his beaten face. No, no, no. Stop the shit. This is just a mission, nothing more, nothing less. My job is to hit a target, a small target but bigger than thousands I've shot before. This is simply a task, and I have a Sig P210 to help me accomplish it. No anger, no hatred, no fear. Just hit the target.

  I crouched with my Sig extended across the van's engine hood. I could see Frank's face clearly in my site.

  “Buster,” I said softly, “please tell Frank to move his head to the left, his left.”

  “Janice,” Buster whispered loudly, “are you crazy?”

  “Buster, Hon, you've seen me shoot before. I've got it. I've got the shot. I own this shot. Please ask Frank to move his head.”

  Buster talked into the microphone to Frank, asking him to move his head to his left.

  It's just a mission, just a task, that's all it is. Hit the target, simple as that.

  Frank moved his head slowly to his left. In a moment his captor's face was exposed.

  I squeezed the trigger. The bullet screamed from the muzzle of the Sig, barely giving the gun a kick, which is why Sigs are so great for accuracy.

  My bullet hit the middle of the target. The man fell, as did Frank.

  Buster yelled a command into his microphone. The sound of at least twelve concussion grenades shook the neighborhood.

  I looked at Frank's crumpled body and decided to go rogue. I ran to his side, almost tripping over Buster’s high top sneakers. I unholstered my Glock G42. I was inclined to drop down and hold Frank, but the better part of my brain ordered me to crouch and hold my weapon in front of me. This is a mission, a simple fucking mission. I'm not angry, I'm not full of hate, and I'VE ABSOLUTELY TOTALLY GOT MY SHIT TOGETHER! Stop, stop, calm down, focus.

  Out of the corner of my left eye I saw a short man in a helmet charging toward me. Charging me! The man lowered his shoulder and collided with my upper left arm, sending me flying about three feet to the dirt. I spun my head to see who this nut was, and there was Bennie, crouched next to Frank and emptying a clip from his Glock at the roof of the house. Two men fell to the yard.

  “Secure the building and report,” yelled Buster into his mike. The concussion grenades, not to mention Bennie, had done their work. All of the occupants, including Abbas Haddad, were dead.

  I holstered my Glock, ran to Frank, and held his head in my hands. I kissed him on the only part of his face that wasn't bathed in blood.

  “Ah buh vu,” said Frank.

  “Sorry, Frank, what was that?”

  “AH...BUH...VU,” he repeated through his broken jaw and swollen lips.

  “I love you too, Honey.”

  Chapter 65

  Bennie and three paramedics came to Frank's side.

  “Shove over, Kiddo,” Bennie said to me.

  I had forgotten that Bennie is not only a shrink but a medical doctor. While making notes on a voice recorder, Bennie went through a quick diagnosis of Frank's condition.

  “Vitals look good, amazingly good. Jaw is cracked in at least two places. Nose is fractured. At least two fractured ribs. Heavy abrasions and facial tissue edema. No apparent fracturing to the orbital sockets. Frank, I need to go through some neurological stuff. Can you wiggle your toes? Great. Now squeeze my hand. Super. Now I'm going to check your limbs. Let me know when you feel pain.”

  Bennie continued to squeeze and poke every part of Frank's body. He then grabbed one of Frank's hands and one of mine.

  “I'll take my miracles when I can get them,” said Bennie. “Frank's in excellent shape even though he looks like shit.”

  He looked around to make sure the paramedics were out of earshot. Bennie winked and said, “You two should be ready to hop into the sack in two weeks, three max.”

  I could see Frank trying to wink at me, but it didn't work. So I winked at him.

  ***

  As Frank's gurney was wheeled to the ambulance, I walked over to Buster.

  “I'm sorry, Buster. I know I shouldn't have run to Frank after I popped that guy.”

  “Janice, under the circumstances I would have done the same thing. You are one tough civilian broad. I can't believe you put that bullet right through the middle of the target. You owe me no apologies. I'll serve with you anytime and anywhere. Which reminds me, be in the Director's office at 4 PM sharp for a meeting.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Chapter 66

  The hospital where Frank was headed was near CIA headquarters. Ben and I were in the ambulance with Frank. It felt good just to sit and take a breather, if only for a few minutes. I rested my feet on a trunk, admiring my double-sized high top Converse All Star sneakers.

  “Bennie, I have a request.”

  “What is it, Kiddo?”

  “The next time you save my life, please be a little more gentle.”

  Bennie laughed and delivered a good natured buddy punch to my left arm. I winced in pain.

  “Ouch, sorry Kiddo.”

  After we got to the hospital, Bennie convinced me th
at our hanging around didn't make sense because Frank would be heavily sedated and in need of rest.

  “I have a 4 PM meeting with Buster and Carlini,” I said, “about two hours from now. I assume you'll be there, yes?”

  “Yes. I think Buster got some interesting news from Carlini while we were securing the safe house. He seemed really excited.”

  “Buster's always excited about something,” I said.

  Chapter 67

  This morning was the second time I've killed a person. The first time was in Yemen, when I shot a crazy gunman who was about to mow down a restaurant full of people. Killing him was completely justified, but it still bothers me. This morning was different. When I put a bullet through that scumbag's head it felt good. It still feels good. I know that sounds heartless, but the man I shot was heartless. He tortured the man I love. The guy put himself in harm's way and I brought him harm. Frank taught me to focus on a mission and I did just that. If you ever point a gun at Frankie in my presence, make sure I'm unarmed.

  There's something about a day full of gunfire, dirt, blood, and death that makes a shower feel extra good. I could really use a workout, but I can't be late for the meeting. The clock says I only have 20 minutes. Damn, no time to dry my hair. Maybe I'll wear my helmet to the meeting.

  ***

  Bill Carlini called the meeting to order promptly at 4 PM. Buster's obsessiveness was starting to wear off on him.

  Besides myself and Bennie, present at the meeting was Buster, Carlini, and, to my surprise, Joe Monahan.

  “Bennie, I never realized you were such a masterful negotiator,” said Buster, chuckling.

  “A Glock with a full clip can be an excellent negotiating tool,” said Bennie

  “Okay, folks, things appear to be coming together,” said Carlini. “This morning's rescue operation was an amazing display of courage and efficiency. It was also a typical Buster operation. We've got a lot to be happy about, not the least of which is that our friend Admiral Frank is okay and on the mend. Also, Abbas Haddad, probably the most evil sadistic terrorist on the planet, is dead, thanks to sharp-shooting Janice over here.”

  I lifted my towel covered head and said, “What?”

  “I forgot to tell you, Janice,” said Buster. “The guy you shot was Haddad himself.”

  Strange, but I felt like a prom queen as everyone politely applauded me. “Hey, let's hear it for the killer.” Maybe I can have Haddad's head mounted and hung over my fireplace. I've got to stop this shit. I'm getting weird.

  “I've asked Joe Monahan to join us for a couple of reasons,” said Carlini. “First I want to thank Joe for his courage by offering himself as a prisoner swap for Frank. It didn't have to happen, as we all know, but Joe showed bravery that probably would have gotten him killed. I also want Joe's input on a matter I'll discuss next.”

  ***

  “So here's some great news, folks,” Carlini said. “A New York City cop positively identified the Ajax Plumbing Supply van this morning in lower Manhattan. He planted a bug, and it's under surveillance. The van hasn't moved since he found it. Here are some photos the cop took. Any recollection of it now, Joe?”

  “Not a clue. But I'm glad Doctor Ben's hypnosis helped drag it out of me.”

  “So here's where we are,” continued the Director. “We're making assumptions, but they're based on solid facts. We know the bombs were transferred from a freighter to a yacht named Andiamo. We first spotted Andiamo off northern Manhattan near the George Washington Bridge, so we assumed it had dropped off one of the bombs before that. Thanks to Bennie and Joe Monahan's subconscious recollection, we narrowed the first bomb to a plumbing supply van, which we've located. That makes five bombs, and we know where they are. It's now a question of disabling the bombs before anybody sets a timer. We're already working on the logistics of that operation. Does anybody have any thoughts or questions?”

  I raised my hand, because I had a big question.

  “Sheik Janice?” said Carlini.

  Everybody laughed at Carlini's crack.

  “I guess you're referring to my stylish head gear,” I said. “Sorry, guys, it's been a busy day and I had no time to dry my hair. But I do have a question, Mr. Director, a big one. Because Sheik Haddad and his pals are presumably frolicking with their allocation of 72 virgins each, it seems that we've decapitated al Qaeda, or at least the leadership of this operation. Do we have any idea who the replacement management is, and more importantly, is there something sacred about the exact timing of the bombs, is there something immoveable about Thanksgiving day?”

  “I'm in love with this woman,” shouted Buster as he slammed his hands on the table. “If I weren't happily married and if Janice wasn't in love with Frank I'd offer her my hand in marriage right now.”

  We all laughed at Buster's charming compliment.

  “Janice has nailed it. When will the attacks occur? That's not only a question, it's the question. We've got to attack and neutralize the bombs now. Joe Monahan, do you have any thoughts on the subject?”

  “Symbolism is important to terrorism, the whole idea of which is to instill fear and also to change people's activities. Think of how the world's behavior changed after 9/11. Metal detectors, suitcase searches, full body scans. All that came about from a series of attacks on one day. The upcoming Thanksgiving Attacks are no different. The day of Thanksgiving has a huge symbolic meaning in the United States as a day of family and friendship. Al Qaeda's goal is to change that. But after this morning's operation I think that Thanksgiving may be a moveable feast, not to pun. Al Qaeda knows that the wraps are off this operation. Setting the bombs off on Thanksgiving Day would be a public relations coup, but I don't think it's critical to the operation. Buster's right, in my opinion. We've got to move now.”

  ***

  “Buster,” said Carlini, “any operational thoughts?”

  “Yes sir, and here they are. First the van in lower Manhattan. We need to get radiological detection equipment next to it as soon as possible to make sure the bomb's actually in the vehicle. We can assume that the van is booby trapped, so once we determine if the bomb is there we need to get in without an explosion.”

  “How soon can that happen, Buster?” asked Carlini.

  “The detection device will be there in about 15 minutes. An ordnance disposal team from the NYPD is on alert and ready to move once they get instructions. We don't know where the bad guys are, so we have to be sensitive about messing with the van. If we determine that it's safe, we don't want some guy shooting a rocket-propelled grenade at it from a window.”

  “If I may,” said Joe Monahan. “A nuclear trigger is always a traditional explosive that's used to start the chain reaction. But I know for certain that these bombs are set to go off with timers that will trip the first explosion. You may want to check what I'm saying with a nuclear engineer, but I don't think that there can be a nuclear explosion without the timing device; otherwise the bombs would be too sensitive for moving around. I agree that the van is probably booby trapped, but I don't think that it could trigger a nuclear explosion. Also, consider the possibility that the van is not booby trapped. Why would al Qaeda risk an entire operation just because some kid tried to carjack the vehicle?”

  “Excellent points, Joe,” said Buster. “The NYPD had some of the best experts in the world for detecting explosives. I'm confident that we'll know if it's booby trapped before we try to break into it. We'll know soon.”

  “Next,” continued Buster, “let's address the yacht Andiamo. Right now it's cruising near Ossining, New York. I've checked and found out that the boat is equipped with excellent radar. That means that a drone would trigger an alarm if it got too close. The yacht is moving slowly. Our guess is that it's trying to conserve fuel and avoid a refueling stop. Our current thinking is that we use an aircraft, maybe a good old A-10 Warthog. They can fly slow or fast and they carry the punch of an army tank. We can use the A-10 to shoot tear gas canisters through an upper window. Because tear gas i
s heavier than air, the gas will seep below to all compartments and immobilize whoever's on board. We then board the yacht and stabilize it, shooting whoever we need to. SEALs are great at securing vessels both large and small. I'm in communication with the commanding officer of the SEAL team in Little Creek, Virginia. They're already on the move.”

  “With your permission, Sir, I'll make these plans operational right now,” Buster said to Carlini.

  “Buster, I long ago abandoned any idea of slowing you down. Go for it, my friend.”

  Chapter 68

  Bennie Weinberg here.

  What a fucking day this has been, if you’ll pardon my bluntness. Me, Bennie the Shrink – in combat! I've written a few books, but now I have enough book material that I don't think I'll live long enough to write them all. I'm surrounded by amazing people, really great people, most especially Buster the spook and the brave and gutsy Janice Monahan. I feel good about today. I never shot a man before, but today I shot two. I don't feel bad about it because they were about to kill my friend Janice, not to mention her wounded boyfriend, Admiral Frank. Come to think of it, they were probably targeting yours truly as well. If there's one thing I'm glad I've done over the years, it was maintaining my proficiency on the shooting range.

  But tonight, I get to relax for a few short hours in the beautiful cafeteria of the Central Intelligence Agency. I even have a date, my former girlfriend Maggie Cohen, a woman I'm planning on making my current girlfriend.