Life Liberty and the Pursuit of a Honeybun

by Red Rose Publishing

  He stood on the stage and looked around. Several floors rose above them, ending in a stunning octagonal ceiling high above their heads. He sent security personnel to each floor above his head. He found his gaze rising, time and again, to the ceiling above the Rotunda. Something was bothering him. But he couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

  Omar reached into the dresser drawer and pulled out a lump of explosive clay. He carried it to the small table in the corner of the room and carefully placed it down next to a handful of detonator caps. The caps were sound activated, color-coded, and geared toward a certain musical pitch.

  Omar drew a sleeve across his brow and settled to work. The explosives would be placed at each of the mall’s entrances to keep people from escaping the building once the main charges had been detonated. They’d be set off by the CD lying next to them on the table, played at high volume in a car speeding by each entrance.

  He smiled as he worked; it was a beautiful plan.

  His cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he jumped, swearing. Pulling it out he punched a button. “Salam!”

  Omar listened for a few moments, frowning. “I’m coming now.”

  He glanced at the array on the table, reluctant to put it all back into the dresser for just the few moments it would take him to run his errand. He finally decided to leave it. He would just put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door. It wasn’t worth the danger of moving the stuff again.

  Omar exited room 210 and slipped the sign over the door handle. Then, he hurried toward the elevators down the hall. He flicked dark, disinterested eyes over the pretty maid bending over her cart a few doors down. American women didn’t interest him. There were no virgins left in America.

  As the elevator doors slid shut, the maid disappeared into room 212 next door, and a group of kids came around the corner from the vending area. The ten year old boys were part of a soccer team in town for a huge, annual soccer tournament nearby. They’d been running the halls all morning, pulling signs off doors, and moving them to other rooms or switching them around.

  They grabbed the sign on room 210 and flipped it so that it read, Please Makeup Room, and ran off giggling.

  Ten minutes later, the maid entered room 210.

  Three minutes after that she was calling 911.

  Brita sat at a conference table with paper spread out all around her. It was a bit overwhelming, the number of reports and requests that were generated in a single week in an entity like the Mall of America.

  She looked up as the young security officer she’d been working with came in carrying another armful of paper. Brita must have looked panicked because the girl apologized. “This should be the last batch, Detective.”

  Brita forced herself to smile. “Thanks, Candice. You can pile them on that far corner there.”

  Candice shoved a couple of other piles toward the center of the table to make room for the new stack. She sat down across from Brita. “Which pile do you want me to look at first?”

  Brita pointed to the pile closest to the young, mall employee. “That pile represents Monday of this week. I’m doing last week’s.”

  Candice nodded and pulled the pile closer. “What exactly am I looking for?”

  “Anything that seems out of the ordinary from day-to-day business. Even things that are done only a few times a year. We need to isolate activities that might have provided an opportunity for someone to compromise security in the mall.”

  Candice bit her bottom lip and nodded. She looked through the first few sheets of paper on the pile and then gave a sigh.

  Brita glanced at her. “Is something wrong?”

  The young woman looked up and Brita saw unshed tears in her eyes. “Are we in danger being here, Detective?”

  Brita was torn. She wanted to tell Candice that she was safe, so she’d stop looking so terrified, but she didn’t want to lie to the young woman either. She settled for honesty, softened slightly. “There is a possibility that terrorists are targeting the mall because of the rally today. But we believe they’ll attack during the rally. If possible, we’ll evacuate you and the rest of mall security before that, Candice.”

  The woman chewed her bottom lip and swiped at tears on her cheeks. She sniffed and nodded. “Okay. Thanks for being honest with me, Detective Muldane.”

  Brita nodded and returned to the pile of paper in front of her. The top sheet was for Mylar balloons with Jiles Green’s face on them. She shook her head and set that one aside. Death by Mylar balloon? Not bloody likely. But it certainly fit within the parameters she’d set for getting a closer look.

  Her ‘closer look’ pile was almost as tall as her ‘weeded out’ pile.

  Sighing, she picked up the next sheet of paper on the pile.

  “They’ve instructed us not to let cars into the lot.”

  “Ignore that instruction. By the time they figure out whose fault it was you’ll be long gone.”

  The young cop grimaced as he hung up. He didn’t share Omar’s low opinion of the Americans’ intelligence. But he figured every car full of rally goers he could allow into the building was a plus. And he’d just plead ignorance if anybody questioned him.

  It would be good enough.

  It would have to be. He just hoped the cop on the other side would be willing to ignore instructions too. Hopefully that would keep the heat off him for a while.

  “Where are all these people coming from?” Alfric watched as dozens of people flooded into the Rotunda from the north side of the mall. They all held signs touting anti-terrorist rhetoric and had an air of celebration around them.

  He picked up his radio and hailed Clovis with it. “Clovis! People are coming into the mall in waves. I thought we were going to turn cars away.”

  The radio crackled and Clovis’ voice came through. “Damn! I’ll check into it.”

  Alfric called out to cops who stood around the perimeter of the Rotunda. “You need to get these people out of here!”

  They signaled their understanding and moved toward the growing crowd of people heading their way.

  “Alfric!” Pleasance tugged on his sleeve, something that sounded like awe in her voice.

  He turned in the direction she was looking and frowned. “Well just shit!”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was like something out of a movie. Six men moved toward them in a single file line. They moved like large cats, with the same ground eating, King of the Jungle stride. Pleasance envisioned one of those scenes in a movie where the line of warriors moved through a deep mist, in dramatic slow motion, long limbs bulging with power and eyes sparking with hostile intent. She nearly sighed at the rampant sexuality of the scene in front of her.

  All six men looked as if they were fully capable of taking over the place. Not one of them glanced to either side. They were all focused like a laser on Alfric and Pleasance, intense looks transforming their handsome faces.

  They were men on a mission.

  As they drew near, Alf looked at Godric. “I guess I don’t need to ask where you’ve been.”

  Godric’s longish, curly red hair looked as if he’d been running his fingers through it. The customary stubble on his square jaw was thicker than usual. His deep-set grey eyes looked tired. He shrugged. “They called and threatened me with bodily harm if I didn’t come back for them. I couldn’t exactly say no, since you and I were here.”

  “And Clovis,” Warwicke added. He was standing with his long legs spread wide, his arms crossed over his chest as if he were ready to do battle for the right to be there.

  Edric, Alastair, and Heathcliffe looked equally belligerent.

  Percy was looking around with a grin on his face. “Cool place. Frickin’ nightmare to secure though.”

  Alfric sighed. “Succinct and correct as always, bro.”

  There was a commotion behind them and they turned around to find Brick and Jiles Green moving toward them at the center of a large group of security. Clovis led the pack, with a radio all but a
ttached to his lips. When he spotted his brothers he stopped dead, nearly causing a comic collision behind him as Brick, intent on his conversation with Jiles, almost plowed into the back of him.

  Clovis frowned, shook his head, and then chuckled. “I guess I should have known you dunderheads wouldn’t be able to stay away.

  Heathcliffe stepped forward, his dark blue eyes intense. “You peckerheads should have brought us along in the first place.” He shook his head, displacing newly long, wavy hair of a rich auburn color from his shoulders. He was in his bohemian artist phase. “If Brick is in danger we should have been the first people you told about it, Clovis.”

  “Yeah!” Percy interjected with a grin. “All for one and one for all!”

  Clovis scowled at his youngest brother. Heathcliffe scowled right back. “I have a job to do and I don’t have time to babysit your tender feelings.”

  As Heathcliffe’s fists clenched and he stepped toward Clovis, Alfric decided it was time to step in. “Okay, this is not the time to fight among ourselves, we have a much more interesting enemy to fight. I certainly didn’t expect to see you idiots here, but since you are you might as well make yourselves useful.” He looked at Percy. “Brita could probably use some help going over documentation.”

  Percy’s grin faded quickly. “Where is she?”

  Alfric instructed a nearby cop to escort Percy to Brita.

  Then, he turned to the rest of his brothers. “I want one of you at each of the main entrances. I’m not sure which direction the trouble’s gonna come from, but when it hits, I’ll need your help stopping it.” He lifted a hand and signaled a nearby security officer over. “Take these men and get them radios.”

  The mall cop nodded and started walking; the Honeybun brothers followed him toward the security hub.

  Alf turned to Clovis. “Any luck figuring out where all these people are coming from?”

  They turned and looked at the quickly growing crowd. A couple hundred people were now milling around in front of the stage.

  Clovis frowned. “Some idiot let two buses full of people into the parking lot. I’ve sent someone to replace the cop there, with instructions to send him my way for questioning.”

  Alfric nodded.

  Jiles Green stepped forward. “It’s almost time for the rally to start.” He jerked his head toward a small knot of people standing off to the side. A couple of them had large cameras on their shoulders. “I’ve allowed the media in. They were willing to risk it to cover the rally. I’m going to go ahead and give my speech, with or without a crowd.”

  Alfric looked at Brick and he shrugged. “I tried to talk him out of it…”

  Jiles frowned. “I make my own decisions, Alfric, and I’ve made this one. You can get all of these people out of the building if you want to but I’m not leaving until I’ve said my piece. So you can just save your breath.”

  Alfric shook his head. “We’ll do our best to protect you, sir.” Unspoken was the implication that it wouldn’t be easy.

  Jiles Green simply nodded and headed for the stage to prepare his notes.

  Sam Cooper had been a cop in St. Paul, Minnesota for twenty-three years. At forty-five years old he was still strong, if not quite as agile as he used to be. Sam was six foot three inches tall, with close cropped grey-brown hair, dense muscles in his arms and legs, and intense hazel eyes. He was smart enough to have climbed the ranks in the department and assumed a political spot years ago, but he wasn’t interested in being a mouthpiece. He wanted to be where the action was. And he liked to think he was a good cop. But what was going on in that mall was giving him the serious willies. His gut was telling him all hell was about to break loose and they were just dancing around the edges of the trouble to come.

  He pushed through the glass doors and was dismayed to see dozens of cars filled with people pulling into parking spots around the entrance. He frowned and headed toward a young, heavyset cop who was ushering the cars into the lot at the Bloomingdale’s entrance.

  The cop turned as Sam approached and fixed him with a dark, hostile gaze. “Hey, you’re supposed to be stopping this traffic from coming in here. Didn’t you get the instruction?”

  The young cop shrugged and turned away, ignoring him.

  “Hey!” Sam reached a hand toward the cop, grabbing his shoulder.

  The cop turned his back to the approaching traffic and, before Sam knew what had happened, he had an eight inch blade buried in his stomach. Pain burst through his torso, radiating from the ice-cold center of the wound and pulling all the strength from his limbs. He doubled over, gasping for breath.

  He was dimly aware of the young cop speaking to someone. He heard the words. “Not feeling well. Too much to drink last night.” A cold laugh. “Just follow the rest of the traffic toward the open parking area.” And then he felt himself being ‘helped’ away from the entrance.

  He was dumped onto something cool and soft and his radio was stripped from him.

  He opened his eyes a moment later and he was alone. He lay on the grass at the perimeter of the parking lot and settled into a niche made by a copse of large evergreen trees. He realized he’d be invisible to the parking lot.

  The cop, or whatever he was, had left him to die.

  But Sam wasn’t ready to die. And at that moment, he was seriously pissed off. So he took a deep breath and grabbed the handle of the knife in his belly. He gritted his teeth and pulled, unable to stop himself from crying out as the knife slid free.

  He lay there for a few minutes, panting, and prayed the cop didn’t come back to finish the job. His vision started to blur and he thought he might pass out.

  But as footsteps sounded on the pavement nearby he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself awake and aware. He wasn’t gonna just lie there and let some punk take him out. If he was going, he was sure as hell gonna take that little asshole with him.

  Omar waited in the pickup area outside baggage. He’d had to circle around the airport several times already and hoped he wouldn’t need to do it again. Apparently, Tamarat had been delayed somehow.

  Finally, the glass doors slid open and Tamarat strode out. He carried a small bag and nothing else. Sliding into the rental van he jerked his chin. “Let’s go. My flight was late, we’re going to miss the rally if we don’t hurry.”

  “I need to stop by the hotel and pick up the explosives.”

  Qamar nodded. “I’ll come in with you. I need to use the restroom anyway.”

  They’d selected the hotel based on its proximity to both the airport and the mall. They were pulling into the parking lot within five minutes and heading up to the room in seven. As Omar slipped his key card into the slot he noticed that the sign was missing from the outside of the door. His heart rate picked up and all the blood left his face. He turned to Tamarat.

  “We need to get out of here!”

  “Hands up! Don’t turn around. Put your hands on the wall in front of you and spread your legs. Do it NOW!”

  Tamarat felt a gun against the back of his head and saw Omar being thrown forward against the wall, barely catching himself with his hands.

  As his arms were wrenched painfully behind his back, he looked around. Cops cut off their escape at both ends of the hallway. And behind them, suits. At least five of them. Government thugs. Probably Homeland Security.

  Omar was arguing with one of them, pleading innocence and demanding a lawyer. Tamarat wanted to tell him to shut up.

  One fed jerked Tamarat roughly away from the wall after searching him. “You have the right to remain silent…”

  The words drifted through the back of Tamarat’s mind as he quickly considered his options. The first thing he needed to do was make a phone call. As the words droned to a close he fixed an unwavering stare on the suit who’d read him his American rights. Yes, he understood the words of Miranda. But they weren’t going to do the cops any good. He was a victim of racial profiling. That was all. He’d be out on bail in no time.

  Than
k Allah for the American Civil Liberties Union.

  Brita glanced up when the door to the conference room opened. She squelched the initial joy at seeing him there and frowned. “What the hell are you doing here, Percival?”

  Percy shook his head. So that was how it was gonna be. Okay, he’d deal with it. “Hi beautiful. Alf sent me to help.”

  She continued to glare at him. “There was nobody else he could send?”

  Knowing that anything he said to her at that moment could…and would…be used against him, Percy just shrugged.

  Finally, she looked back down at the stack of papers in front of her and sighed. The young security guard who’d been helping her had been called away to help out in the mall almost an hour earlier. She had a stack as high as her forearm in front of her. She could use help wading through it. She lifted the top half off the pile and slid it across the table toward him. “This is your half.”

  Percy sat down and pulled the pile close. “What are we looking for?”

  Brita fought back a wave of anger at his question. She had to get a grip. Their personal history had no place in the current mess. People could die if she didn’t manage to hold it together. Taking a deep, careful breath, Brita looked up. A wave of feeling hit her in the chest. His dark blue eyes were filled with pain.

  It sliced through her like a knife.

  She loved him. The last thing she wanted was to cause him pain.

  Also, because he’d hurt her, the first thing she wanted to do was cause him pain.

  The anger was so much safer.

  “We believe the terrorists have something planned for today. We’re looking for something out of the ordinary that might have happened this week to give us a clue as to what they might be planning. Unusual repairs, strange requests, out of the ordinary purchases…”

  Percy nodded. His dark blue gaze stayed locked on her face. “I love you.”

  Brita’s heart split in two. The pain nearly made her pass out. Her breath clogged in her lungs and, for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. “Don’t!”