“Yeah, and we don’t even know what the target may be,” the chief interjected.
“While we know what he will use, we do not know where or when he will use it, and the two people who could’ve helped chose to die in a twisted blaze of glory. By the way, that type of bomb is popularly known as ‘The Mother of Satan.’”
Chapter 14
The flight out of Gatwick left the gate right on time. Flying westbound, Joann and Nick knew the flight was slightly longer than the trip to London, but were comfortable with the thought of returning to the US. They were anxious to get home; ten days was a long time to be away.
“Nicky, I really miss the kids, and that was a long vacation—a long vacation for me, that is. You didn’t have much of a respite.”
“I miss the kids, too. When do you go back to work?”
“I have to start a teaching project next week at the college, but for the upcoming semester I will be working part time. What will your schedule be like?”
“Beginning tomorrow, it is going to be intense. I can’t tell you much about it right now, but Joann, if I ever suggest you and the kids go up to Great Barrington for a few days, please don’t ask any questions and just go, okay?”
“That’s a deal.”
****
In New York, Kristin Roberts had continually contacted immigration and customs people throughout the Northeastern US in an effort to uncover how Aaffia Khan had gotten into the US and where Bhiren al Mohammed might be presently. She knew she was running out of options.
“Jack, I think Khan came through from Canada. At first I agreed with the conventional wisdom: Rouses Point, New York, or the Peace Bridge in Buffalo. Now I’m not so sure,” Roberts told Mason with a slight frown on her face.
“Why the change? Something new?”
“At either point of entry there would be a record: an entrance and exit, an entrance and no exit—something—a visa or a false name or a false passport number. Nothing. We never found any transit papers in Khan’s apartment or in the clubroom. I think she used false papers to get into Canada, got rid of them, and then crossed without inspection into the US.”
“Well, you have good company Nick Brennan believes that is how al Mohammed got here. He thinks he got into Canada through Montreal and now just crosses back and forth near Stanstead, Quebec Province. There are backyards in Derby Line, Vermont that are in both countries. The woods and yards have many trails that cross the boundary. Hell, the Haskell Free Library in Derby is basically in both places. The border is porous.”
“I am going to contact the RCMP and the Canadian Security Intelligence Service, CSIS, again and see if they can delve more deeply into their immigration records and perhaps come up with something.”
“Keep me informed.”
Nick and Bob Phillips began collaborating on analyzing what they had.
“Nick, the voice message from Bhiren to Tanweer is too subjective to be able to break it out with certainty. It is like the old one-time pads we used in the NSA.”
“Yeah, we used them in ASA. You can’t break them if it is just a purely random letter for a letter or a number for a number or any combination based on a conversion book that you have one copy of and I have the other.” Nick stopped for a moment, reflected, then added, “But I’m not sure that is the situation here. It takes some skill to create a one-time pad.”
“I guess by now Bhiren knows Tanweer and Patel are dead, don’t you think?”
“Well, the Brits didn’t release the names of the dead right away, but the press was hot on the story, and at the location in Finsbury they even collected automobile plate numbers, so the police finally released pretty much all of it. If al Mohammed follows European news, he knows for sure.”
“Nick, suppose Bhiren is in Vermont or Stanstead. He’ll no doubt be disguised. What can we do with that information?”
“Well, let’s think about it. He can’t walk from Stanstead to Newport—it is more than ten miles. He isn’t using a car to cross the international boundary regularly. So that means he has a car and he parks it on the Vermont side, probably in Derby Line, and walks to it to drive to Newport. In Newport he goes to the Internet café to connect with the others, or at least he did.”
“That’s right. He has to have a car just to move all the explosive material.”
“Bob, Aaffia had to have a car, too. She bought a 1992 Acura, it was light blue, I think, but she never registered it. That’s probably the car Bhiren is using. Khan left it here somewhere before the attempt at Grand Terminus Plaza. She probably did the same thing to get here: she entered through Canada and walked into the US. I bet she took the train from Saint Albans, Vermont to New York and bought the car. I’m going to call Kristin.”
When Kristin came into the SCIF, both Nick and Bob Phillips had their heads down, thinking and writing about the likely methods used by their enemies. They figured Bhiren al Mohammed and Aaffia Khan used the same tricks.
“Kristin, Bob and I have been working on Bhiren’s location or perhaps former location. We think Bhiren is using the light blue 1992 Acura that Kevin Cleary discovered in the DMV records purchased under Khan’s alias ‘Abdel Feil.’ He probably parks it in Derby Line and walks over the border somewhere.”
“Why the hell didn’t we think of that before?”
“I don’t know, we should have figured that out. We also have to find out if the Internet café in Newport has VoIP service available.”
“Nicky, it does. One of our analysts from the Burlington Resident Agency Office called me this morning an hour ago. He and an agent were there yesterday. The service is available, and we are getting all the records. It looks like that is the place Bhiren used to communicate with Tanweer.”
“Kristin, can we get the Border Patrol an advisory regarding a 1992 light blue Acura with an unknown registration parked in the vicinity of Derby Line and maybe the RCMP can keep watch on the Canada side. It is an old car but it is high quality and a little distinctive.”
“No problem, I know who to call. I made some contacts trying to get records on Bhiren and Khan coming into Canada. I’ll clear it with Jack and get out a teletype right away.”
While it was likely al Mohammed had moved out of the area, Team 1 couldn’t make that assumption. They had the car year, make and model with the VIN. Jack Mason spoke to the ASAC and a general alarm was broadcast for recovery of the car and the investigation of the operator. The FBI agents and analysts did not want to overreact, knowing that computer records involving vehicles were often faulty and the automobile could be in the hands of an innocent buyer, but at the same time they knew Bhiren al Mohammed was a ruthless killer and capable of anything. There was a “use caution” advisory attached to the message.
****
About twelve miles west of Derby Line and Newport in Jay, Vermont, was a secluded yet active ski resort, Jay Peak. Named after John Jay, the mountain retreat included a hotel, condominiums, restaurants, a ski shop and a large parking lot filled all day and night during the winter months with the cars and trucks of employees, visitors, shoppers and skiers.
The northern boundary of the preserve within which the ski slopes were located ran almost to the border with Canada. On the other side of the international line, the 45th parallel, was the Canadian town of Potton in Quebec Province. Within the township were several small communities, the largest being Mansonville. Through the preserve and ski area ran “Long Trail,” America’s oldest long-distance hiking path crossing into the US from the international boundary.
The US Border Patrol often passed through the parking area and up Jay Road closer to Canada to keep a careful lookout for illegal crossings. Part of the protocol required watching Long Trail, since it could easily accommodate a hiker who wanted to evade a port of entry. Patrol officers were especially suspicious of late-night movement.
As Border Patrol Agent Roger Lambert made an easterly pass near Long Trail in the late darkness he thought he saw the silhouette of a man in a large
dark hooded jacket walking down the trail from far above. The agent took up a position at the bottom of the trail and radioed in his position. He didn’t request any assistance “at this time,” he said in the transmission to his base headquarters. He knew his backup would have to leave a sector more than ten miles away, and unless he actually saw someone he didn’t want to upend the evening’s patrol plan.
After thirty minutes, Lambert, using a night scope, saw nothing more and resumed patrol. An hour later he drove through Jay Peak’s parking area again. As he began to leave through the exit roadway onto Jay Road he saw a man in a heavy gray hooded insulated winter overcoat wearing dark mittens. While it was certainly a cold night, the man was wearing exceptionally heavy clothing for a visitor to the resort shops or restaurants, he thought. It was apparent the man did not see the patrolman off in the darkness. Lambert was becoming slightly suspicious. Using his night scope, he looked through the long lenses and studied the character again.
The man walked briskly across the parking lot and got into a black Acura. Lambert wasn’t sure it was the same man from earlier and if he had a car in the lot. It wasn’t very likely he was an illegal immigrant, he thought. Still watching, Lambert pulled forward and flipped on his blue and red roof lights. His interest piqued, he decided to pull the car over. The black Acura pulled quickly to the side of the road and the driver hurriedly got out.
“Officer, what is the problem?” the dark-skinned man asked with a sharp British accent.
Lambert opened his car door and said, “Get back in the car and take your hands out of your pockets now!”
The man hesitated for a moment and put his head down. Now looking at the ground, he suddenly looked up and pulled an automatic pistol from his right pocket, raised it quickly in a single fluid motion and fired at the officer’s head. Lambert fell backward with a wound to his lower left neck near his throat. With the officer lying wounded, probably dead or dying in the darkness, the man went inside the patrol vehicle and turned off the flashing roof lights and the headlights and fired one round into the radio. Then the motorist calmly walked back to the black car and drove away in a westerly direction towards Burlington.
It was almost an hour before a husband and wife got into their car after dinner and drove to the exit of the parking lot. Casually looking out of the passenger side window, the woman was suddenly stunned and said to her husband as they slowly approached the cruiser, “Craig, stop the car! I think the cop is lying on the ground. Pull over!” The two hurriedly got out of their automobile with the headlights cast forward upon the wounded officer’s vehicle and ran to assist. There, bleeding from the neck, was the US Border officer. The man went down on his knees and took his wife’s scarf and placed pressure on Lambert’s bleeding throat “Quick, pick up the police radio microphone over there and call an ambulance. This guy is badly hurt!”
“Craig, the radio is dead and my cell phone has no service. I’m going to run to the restaurant to get help.” Inside the dining room at the bar having a drink with a colleague was an emergency medical technician who heard the woman’s frantic call to 911 and ran out to the lot to offer his assistance. Careful not to cause hypoxia by placing pressure on the carotid artery, the technician placed pressure directly on the wound while he examined the officer. Convinced it wasn’t arterial bleeding, usually characterized by spurting and bright red or yellowish blood flow, he used his fist and the scarf to slow the loss of precious blood. The ambulance arrived within ten minutes, followed closely by Border Patrol units and Vermont State police officers. Lambert, the father of three children all under the age of five years, was quickly transported to North Country Hospital in Newport where he was admitted unconscious in critical condition suffering from an enormous loss of blood. Doctors determined later that the bullet had missed the carotid artery by an inch and he would probably survive.
The investigating officers at the scene of the shooting had no idea who they were looking for. Roger Lambert hadn’t transmitted a traffic stop, and no witnesses were discovered who may have seen or even heard something. The parking lot and connecting roads were covered with a variety of tire tracks. The shooter could be on foot or in a vehicle, and no comprehensive police radio message was possible until Lambert was conscious and could be interviewed. A general advisory was broadcast and a broad-based search was initiated, but it was mostly random in its approach.
****
Team 1 in New York took note of the shooting but reserved judgment. There were many possibilities; the gunman could have been a wanted criminal, he or she may have been transporting drugs or running away from another crime, or perhaps he or she was just psychotic. The shooting had occurred many miles from Stanstead and Derby Line, there was no description of the car or the shooter, and perhaps it was merely a coincidence. But Nick Brennan always thought critically. If the car had been stored in the parking lot, near the international trail, and the border agent had pulled the suspect over in connection with that action, it may have been Bhiren. Though troubled by the fact that the gunman didn’t shoot the agent again, Nicky had considered the tendency of terrorists to shoot at the head or face as they were trained to do to avoid protective vests worn by adversaries. “Jack, I think it was al Mohammed,” Brennan said to his boss.
****
Kristin Roberts’s Canadian partners got back to her in short order, but it wasn’t much help. An RCMP corporal assigned to assist the FBI reported, “Kristin, we have had many crossings from the UK and Europe that are especially suspicious. Our customs people report several possibilities. Bhiren al Mohammed and Aaffia Khan both could have travelled into Canada from the UK with false papers that were professionally prepared. It would’ve required a forger with a background in science, but it can be done. The trek through Stanstead and Potton into the states undetected is certainly doable, and the walk with the right gear even from Mansonville in Potton Town to Jay Peak on the Long Trail would only take a few hours at most, even in the winter.”
****
Jack Mason convened a meeting of Team 1 looking for a new approach to the problem. “Who has any new ideas?” he asked.
“Jack, the Border agent is still unable to speak, so until he can tell us something we are stuck, I think,” said Larry Ford.
Nick offered a slightly different point of view. “Jack, I think that was al Mohammed in Jay, Vermont. I think he is in New York right now. I think the car is around here somewhere and I think he is going to strike soon. We need our resident agents to be ready as soon as Lambert is able to talk.”
Kevin Cleary agreed and added another thought, “Look I know we don’t have a plate number, but you can’t come into Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens or Staten Island from the North Country without crossing a bridge or using a tunnel. We are looking for a 1992 Acura light blue in color. Can’t we have the photo unit go over the MTA and Port Authority tapes for the last few days? If Nick is right and the guy even went through the Bronx or New Jersey into Manhattan on his way down, he probably got recorded.”
Bob Phillips chimed in, “Hundreds of thousands of cars have passed into the city. I know we do not have the technology to sort by color, but maybe we can do better anyway. He certainly didn’t use the Easy Pass payment system; he went through a cash payment lane. So I think he was coming from the north, probably the Bronx but maybe New Jersey using the Lincoln Tunnel, Holland Tunnel or the George Washington Bridge.”
Kristin Roberts had her turn. “He’s not going to go into Jersey. He has to get to his safe place. The more he travels the more risk he takes. The car isn’t legally registered; that’s the ticket. The plate reader will describe the car that conforms to the registration. Look, the registration bar code on the windshield won’t match the plate. Okay, so we are looking for a 1992 Acura with an improper registration in the cash aisle coming from the Bronx.” She stopped to think for a moment and went on, “He will either take the Cross Bronx Expressway and perhaps the Triboro Bridge or he’ll cross the Throgs Neck Bridge or Whitest
one Bridge into Queens and up into Brooklyn. It depends on his destination.”
“What else could he do?” Jack asked.
”He may try to avoid the toll plazas altogether, but then he must get off the Cross Bronx before the George Washington and contend with all that southbound traffic in Manhattan. Too risky,” Kristin concluded.
Al Franks offered his opinion, “I agree he is probably headed for Manhattan.”
“Let me be a contrarian. I bet on Brooklyn with easy access into Manhattan,” Nick added with a smile.
Jack, suddenly refreshed again and satisfied with the session, began to issue orders, “Nicky get out a subpoena for MTA Bronx and Queens bridge crossings with older Acuras in the cash lane with improper plates. Kristin, you do the same with Bronx and Manhattan crossings. Kevin, check out the George Washington and Holland and Lincoln, and Larry, work on the Jersey crossings into Staten Island. Bob, go over abandoned vehicles with the NYPD. It’s a big order, but maybe we can find an abandoned or impounded 1992 Acura. If you need help, go to Kristin. Al, you and I will coordinate the data. Let’s get to work.”
That afternoon, Nick got a call on the secure line from John Planner. “Nicky, I want to keep you up to date on the emailed formula that Tanweer sent al Mohammed.”
“Thanks, John. What do you have?”
“We reviewed the attached document with the instructions for the construction of the bomb. Tanweer made a few critical errors.”
“In what way?”
“Nick, there is a thing called ‘metadata,’ basically data about data. If I create a document and I make changes or someone adds comments, depending on how the document is stored, those changes can be viewed by someone who receives the document later.”
“Okay, I think I follow you so far.”
Once a Noble Endeavor Page 24
