by Hawk, Nate
***
The blue BMW five series was a good driver. It accelerated smoothly and braked effortlessly. Despite the wet roads, the all-wheel drive continued grabbing at the road like racing slicks on clean, dry pavement. It was as if the driver only needed to envision the direction that he wanted to drive the car. Then the car would do as it was told. Maybe through telepathic prompting. The car hugged the turns in the foothills of the Alps like it was made to do so; which it was. The two men were driving the car as if it was stolen; which it was.
“I bet we got him,” the passenger said.
“Yes, hopefully. Doesn’t really matter, though. Either way he’ll be busy for a while,” Niko surmised.
“Yeah. I guess you’re right. It will give us enough time to complete our task. Praise be to Allah.”
“Allah Akbar!” Niko said, more for the passenger than himself.
The car leaned slightly from side to side as they cornered around the hilly terrain. Then the front of the expensive car raised slightly as the driver gave the motor a direct command, pressing the entirety of the gas pedal.
“We need to get the job in Munich done. This train incident is going to bring us way too much heat from the police.”
“Yeah. And we need to get rid of this stolen car,” the passenger said nervously.
“No doubt,” Niko said. “But the bombing had to be done. This Kelly has already caused our organization an enormous amount of trouble. We can’t have him getting in our way now.”
“You are right but now we must move on.”
“How soon?” Niko asked.
“Right away. In fact, I will call the team and tell them to be ready to go in fifteen minutes.”
***
Chapter 56
The weather was awful. Precipitation had inundated the rivers that year. It had been an intense and ongoing offensive on the dendritic drainage systems of the region. In fact, it had started with record snowfall levels the previous winter. That had not been an issue until the spring temperatures turned the snow into snow melt, complementing the record rainfall to raise water levels to epic proportions. Rivers were encroaching on the upward limits of effective containment. Some areas in the country had even begun to spill over the riverbanks into the lower lying areas.
Stan was used to pulling the short straw. He had been left behind for surveillance and currently found himself eying the only mosque in Homburg. The mosque, as Kelly had heard it called. It had been a wet proposition that morning. Fortunately, Stan was more adaptive than he was a complainer. He had entered a cafe that offered large exterior windows on one side of a brick building, which overlooked his objective. He was wearing a flat cap and sunglasses that helped alter his appearance some. He was being extra careful since Niko had seen him in Hamburg but surely it wasn’t too risky doing surveillance from afar.
As he glanced at himself in the reflective window, he couldn’t decide if he looked more like an overweight golfer or an underweight New York cabbie. Either way, the outfit masked his face and his curious eyes from the town. The Al Quds Mosque had been linked to European terror cells going back decades. The mosque had not been closed down though because they were never caught with quite enough of their finger in the pie. The PAG team’s aim was to change that.
He had been in the area performing surveillance, all morning. Amongst other seemingly uneventful occurrences that morning, he had seen Niko and a passenger leaving in a blue BMW. The car had returned in a much more dramatic fashion. It was zipping down the street and then Niko took the turn into the parking lot as if he was one lap into Le Mans.
Despite the dreary skies, the wet blue paint sparkled in the downpour. Niko parked the sleek vehicle and its two occupants exited. They were speaking rapidly and using pronounced hand movements as they dashed through the storm to the protection of the medieval mosque. The building was open to the public so there was other traffic that afternoon. Stan was watching carefully, hoping he wouldn’t miss anything. As quickly as the two men ran inside, they returned to the portico of the stone building. Over the next couple of minutes, other men began to join them one at a time. They weren’t chatting or smoking and no one was telling jokes.
In fact, they weren’t doing much of anything. They were standing there with what appeared to be travel bags and golf cases. The cases appeared to Stan to be something other than clubs. The men carrying them looked more like mountain men than PGA champions. Stan was pretty sure he knew what was in the hard sided golf cases. He picked up his phone and dialed his old friend.
“Angelo, we’ve got some movement.”
“Where are they going?”
“Not sure. Looks like they have rifles in hard sided golf cases.”
“How many are there?” Angelo asked.
“So far I count seven.”
“They’re like cockroaches… multiply the number you see by ten!”
“Man, I hope not. We’re thirty minutes out. Keep eyes on them but keep yourself safe. Don’t forget Niko may remember your face.”
Thanks for the reminder, Stan thought to himself.
“You got it,” he promised. “It’s just how it worked out this time. I’ll be fine.”
The men began walking towards the town’s main station in ones and twos. It was obvious to Stan that some type of plan had been implemented. The men walked with a determination, their minds clearly on something else. That part of the group now counted ten. Niko and a man that seemed to be the leader did not walk to the station. Instead, they headed back inside.
With a plan seemingly in action, Stan knew he should follow the larger group. He pulled his hat down, exited the cafe and began his trek to the station. He walked from veranda to veranda in an effort to stay out of the elements and to remain unnoticed.
Eventually, Stan made his way under the protection of the atrium in the main station. His view bottlenecked down as the men had entered into the facility. As he approached he could see the train side of the station had four platforms and seven tracks. There were armed guards and blockades around the terminals. Clearly the government had shut down the trains until some sense could be made out of the derailment and explosion that had just happened.
The ten men did not congregate together but rather stayed separated in an effort to remain unnoticed. They purchased bus tickets one at a time, just like the other customers. Stan wasn’t sure which bus they would take, though. They were clearly going to board at the very last minute to avoid telegraphing their movements. Stan eyeballed the upcoming bus schedule. There were only three buses leaving in the next thirty-five minutes.
Just like he had watched Niko do on tape, Stan purchased a separate ticket for each bus and waited.
***
Chapter 57
The white van arrived moments later. The town was small enough that the men could see the vehicle coming. They stood up and walked to the gas station. The driver pushed a button and the van door opened automatically. It was a convenient feature that could be used when every second counted. It clearly wasn’t necessary at the moment, though. It had been used more out of habit than anything else. Owen, Angelo and Kelly had sat in silence at the cafe and they continued on in silence as they walked towards the gas station. As they stood at the van, it seemed appropriate to get everyone on the same page.
“Call me Tiny,” Owen said as he extended a hand to Kelly.
“Angelo,” the other man said.
“Well, I guess you know who I am,” Kelly said. “Pleasure, gentlemen, under the circumstances.”
“Yeah,” Owen said although his mind had clearly moved past the introductions. “Here’s the deal. What happens next, you never tell a soul. Nobody,” he paused. “Ever. Are we clear?”
“Who would I tell?” Kelly asked rhetorically. But without further prompting, he quickly replied, “Yes, we’re clear.”
“Alright. Let’s go over your Intel and what you can bring to the table,” Owen suggested.
“First, tell me how I came o
n your radar,” Kelly said. “I assume Steven Lynch called you?”
“We’re not getting into that, right now,” Owen asserted.
Kelly sure wanted to know who had informed the group of his arrival in Germany. But, he knew it was best not to push it. He began his story at the Boston Marathon. Kelly didn’t mention that he was sure Niko had tricked Bekhan into intentionally killing Jen and Brady. It sounded too far-fetched to be true. Plus, Kelly would have to bring up Jen’s past to explain that angle fully. Better if I just keep it simple, he told himself. Kelly told them about Niko’s possible Syrian connections and rumors that he was good with explosives. His information coincided with what the team knew since Owen had been part of the HIG interrogation team that had worked over the younger brother.
The three men were still standing outside the gas station, on the hidden side of the van. They were protected from roaming eyes that may have travelled by on the road through town. The rain began picking up again so they moved inside the van and closed the door. Kelly continued on about his involvement in the Jamaat Al Fuqra compound attack in Virginia and how he figured out that Abbas Zaki was one of the FBI’s Top Ten. He mentioned that he had help penetrating the compound but he refused to mention the names of Brooke or Steven.
The biggest fear of Owen and Angelo was that Kelly would talk later for his own personal gain. However, the story that Kelly had told had several instances where he had deflected any personal career gain from the work that he was doing. The info meshed well with what the CIA knew, so Kelly didn’t come off as a bullshitter. Lastly, he had bared his soul in an operative and legal sense and had given the two men enough felonious admissions that they could convince a court of law to put him away for life. He had handled himself well and he had done it silently. That was the type of skill set that Owen, Angelo and Stan needed. The situation was moving rapidly and decisions had to be made. The group was down a member with the death of Laura Banks so, almost out of necessity, they brought Kelly into the fold as an unplanned field expediency.
“Alright, Kelly,” Owen said. “Here is what we’ve got. There is a team of international terrorists that were staying at the Al Quds Mosque here in Homburg. We think they are planning a Mumbai-style commando attack in Germany.”
Kelly thought back to the “A” and the “L” that he had seen scribbled on Niko’s notepad from the GMC. Al Quds Mosque, he thought to himself. It’s got to be.
Owen continued on, uninterrupted.
“We followed Niko Plotnikov during a murderous rampage through the red-light district in Hamburg. We were closing in on him but he slipped away at the last minute. Additionally, new Intel indicates that Niko was driving the car that you saw leaving the train site today.
So we think he has been attached to their group for his knowledge and connections regarding explosives. We haven’t pinned down their ultimate target yet, though. One of our other agents has confirmed that a large ISIS group is at the main station in Homburg and seems to be moving into action.”
Owen paused briefly as to sum up the whole of what he was saying.
“So, the attraction to us of working with you is in part your own knowledge of explosives. We are currently outnumbered three to one by this ISIS group but we consider our tools and training as a significant force multiplier. Our Intel suggests that the train attack was Minor League compared to what they are planning next. In fact, our biggest unchecked concern is determining their target for the explosives. Of course, stopping the plot and eliminating them is our ultimate goal here. We won’t be taking any prisoners. Our lives depend on us pulling this off as do the lives of perhaps hundreds or thousands of innocent victims. If we don’t curtail their plans then we will have another situation like what just happened on the train but likely on a much bigger scale. Think of September 11, 2001 all over again.”
Kelly was processing the information that had just been presented. He found himself thinking about how motivated Owen was. It was like the man had taken the events personally, deciding to double down and fight back twice as hard. Kelly sure wanted to take out Niko himself. For that matter, he had planned on taking the whole group out himself, unless one of them killed him first. But this current arrangement offered Kelly a much higher probability of success.
“Are you in or out?” Angelo prompted, trying to read Kelly’s mind.
He was clearly upset about Laura. His expression told Kelly most of the story. Kelly recognized that there was only one answer here. He didn’t care to see where an “I’m out” vote would land him.
“I’m in,” he said. “You have my full dedication to the effort. But, I’d strongly prefer to deal with Niko Plotnikov myself.”
“Listen Kelly, we can’t make any promises at this point. If it is practical at the time, I’m in agreement. How about you, Angelo?”
“Yeah, me too. Stan is gonna shit, though, when he hears this. Last he knew we were scaring you off. Now we’ve lost a great agent and brought you in. Don’t even get me started on what Quinn will have to say about it!”
“No shit,” Owen said sardonically. “If we fuck this up we are going to get restationed in northern Sweden someplace!”
Kelly was thinking back to his own plan. It had sure evolved. He had hoped to take out Niko and anybody directly working with him: alone. Now he was shoulder to shoulder with some mysterious but connected men who shared the same goal as him.
“I’ve got a package that should have arrived at the Kloster Hornbach by now. I understand we’re moving on but I still need the box, if possible,” Kelly said.
“OK. Let’s get something to eat and get cleaned up,” Owen suggested.
He turned his attention to Angelo.
“Man! You’ve gotta get the rest of that blood cleaned off.”
Kelly gave the driver the address of the hotel Kloster Hornbach. They eventually arrived, driving down a rural driveway that was made of crushed stone. The drive was lined with a well-maintained stone fence that Kelly figured had been there for centuries. The building itself had clearly been built in a few different stages along the way. The oldest part of the building had a Gothic German look to it but the details didn’t seem overdone. There was a simple authenticity to it. Kelly went to check in and wondered if the other men would just leave him there. He was beginning to trust them though and it seemed that they really did need his help. The building was four stories tall but the roof on the top two stories was slanted at a forty-five degree angle. The roof itself was made of red clay tiles. Kelly entered through rounded-top, heavy-metal doors that opened inward like a set of saloon doors might back home. There was a reception desk with a friendly girl who asked him his name.
“Kelly Maclean, here to checkin.”
“Ah, so you’re Kelly Maclean,” she said understandingly. “A package just arrived for you, Sir.”
“Hmm. Must be my hiking gear from home,” he said.
She gave him a quick glance. “Looks like you’ve already been out hiking,” she said.
Kelly looked down at his clothes. He hadn’t realized how dirty he had gotten when he climbed out of the train. He just smiled and shook his head in agreement. She pushed the box over the counter to him.
“It’s heavy! Overnight,” she added.
He was given a room key as he had been in other places, probably a hundred times before. He asked if there was an entrance closer to his room where he could bring things in from his vehicle. She gave him an understanding nod and explained where it was, in excellent English with a homely German accent. So he exited back through the medieval door and walked out-of-sight, back towards the van. He looked through the tinted window and spun his index finger through the air as if to say, let’s move.
Angelo was the only one who exited the van. Must be some security precaution, Kelly thought. He set the large box into the van. Angelo tossed Kelly a pair of pants with a belt as he grabbed a backpack for himself.
“Owen’s pants. I can give you a shirt to change into. I doubt my
pants would fit you.”
“Thanks,” Kelly said. “I appreciate it.”
Kelly didn’t want to feel like he owed anyone any favors so he came up with a way to balance the gesture.
“I’ll go change and then I’ll get everyone something to eat.”
They found the room and Kelly opened the door. Angelo didn’t say anything as he went in and closed the bathroom door. Kelly removed his dirty clothes. He wasn’t worried about a shower, yet. In fact, he’d gone for periods of weeks without showering in Iraq. When he was lucky, he got cleaned up as needed with the water from two one-liter bottles, one to soap up and one to rinse off. Just the way things go in the field.
Once his clothes were removed, he put the fresh ones on. Fresh proved to be a relative term. Angelo’s shirt smelled like it’d had a woman hanging all over it. In fact, he’d noticed a brief scent of the same smell coming from the dead woman that Angelo had been carrying. Kelly put it on. It was a bit tight but it would do. Owen’s pants were large on Kelly but the belt did its job. Kelly walked down the maze of hallways until he found the restaurant. He ordered four sandwiches with extra meat and four waters. By the time Kelly got back to the room, Angelo was finishing up. Kelly used the head and then they both headed back to the van, eating hot ham and real Swiss cheese sandwiches. Owen and the driver took their sandwiches and ate them on their way to Kelly’s room. All of the men appreciated being able to clean up when they could.
