by Roger Hayden
She stared out into the quiet parking lot below trying to reach a decision. A steady pace of vehicles passed by in the two-lane street beyond the hotel. Everything seemed so calm and at peace, she didn’t want to change that by making a very difficult call to the station.
She called Burke again, hoping he’d pick up, but the call went immediately to voice mail. His phone must have died some time ago. “Damn it, Burke,” she said after the beep.
She set the phone down on the railing of the balcony as a gust of wind blew her hair into her face. She brushed it back with one hand and sighed. There was no stalling any longer. Chief Drake had to know what was happening. She wasn’t going to tell him everything. That was for sure, but he would endlessly probe her for details. He was good at that, and she had to be ready. She brought his office number up on the screen and pressed “Call.”
“Here we go,” she said under her breath. It seemed ages since she had last talked to him, when in actuality, it had been little over twenty-four hours.
After three rings, he picked up, voice urgent as always, but sounding distracted. “Del Rio Border Patrol… Chief Drake speaking.”
“Sir, this is Agent Gannon.”
A predictable pause, then Drake again, this time sounding rushed. “Gannon? What is it?”
There were other voices audible in the background. She pictured his office, packed with officials and full of commotion. It had been that way the past couple of days. Like her, Drake never seemed to sleep.
“And where the hell have you been?” he asked in an angrier tone.
Ah. Now we get to the good stuff.
“I’m sorry I missed your calls. I’ve been busy,” she answered.
“Oh, I bet,” he shot back. “Pulled a complete disappearing act. Now what is it? We’re dealing with a hell of a crisis here.”
She could only imagine what he was referring to. “I’m…” she began, unsure of where to start. She had it all rehearsed, but his tone had thrown her off. “I have some information I need to share with you.”
“Bring it in. The FBI has been asking about you. Special Agent Burke, too. Just where the hell have you been? Have you seen him? The two of you…” He paused. “I don’t know what to do with either of you.”
She could have told him everything then and there. That she had gone outside government channels and rescued her daughters. That Burke had killed more than a dozen terrorists. That their British insider, who called himself Graves, was long dead. That they had discovered a compound and killed every terrorist standing in their way. That Salah Asgar may have escaped, ready to launch a series of deadly attacks.
She could have said all that, but instead told him, “The ISIS cells are ramping up their attacks. I have detailed times and locations.”
“Well, damn it, Agent Gannon, what did I tell you? Get in here now.”
He had said nothing about her daughters. Had he forgotten already? His demands and lack of concern were signs for Angela that she had done the right thing in going on her own, but there would be consequences. That, she was sure of.
“I’m not going anywhere near that station, understand?” she said, anger rising. “The entire state of Texas is in grave danger from these attacks. Now, do you want to help stop them or not?”
Another pause, a sign that the chief was clearly taken aback. “What are you talking about? What attacks? Where?” he said, and then his voice drifted off as he turned away from the phone to say something to someone else in his office.
“My daughters,” Angela said loudly, still incensed. “Are you listening? Do you remember them? Whatever happened with that?”
“Gannon, you’re all over the place,” Drake said. It was clear she didn’t have his whole attention. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you the past twelve hours. Burke has disappeared too. Now you call me with this doomsday stuff.”
“They’re going after the Dallas power plant,” Angela said, tiring of the back and forth and getting nowhere. “We’ve got only a matter of hours to stop them.”
“I’m tracking that,” Drake said, surprising her. “All power plants, water plants, and potential terror targets are on high alert. Especially after this latest incident.”
Angela was immediately concerned. “What incident?”
“The mosque shooting. What else would I be talking about?”
“I’m sorry, mosque shooting?” Angela asked, stunned.
“Yeah. Over fourteen Muslims dead during a prayer session. Retaliation against ISIS.”
“I don’t understand… Where? Who?”
“Garland mosque. Some nut job. There’s a huge manhunt for him now. He’s still on the loose.”
Angela felt a familiar sickness in the pit of her stomach. The news came out of nowhere and threw her completely off track.
“I can’t believe it. Retaliation for what?”
“From what the news reports say, it was a response to the ISIS video. The one with your husband…” Drake suddenly paused, realizing, it seemed, the images his words would trigger. “I’m sorry, Agent Gannon. Look, it’s a madhouse here. A real crisis. Terror alert is at its highest. We’re still working on finding your daughters, but Burke… he was spearheading that, and he’s since disappeared.”
“They’re looking for soft targets,” she told him. “Open venues and such.” It had just occurred to her that it was Memorial Day. A Monday. What a terrible time for the country to be under attack. “I can send you all the information I have. These attacks will happen soon. There’s no doubt in my mind.”
“Where are you?” Drake asked, sounding suspicious.
Above all, Angela wasn’t prepared to tell him. If the terrorists could find her family once, she was certain that they’d try again. The only person she trusted was Burke, and he had fallen even more off the radar. “I can’t say,” she said matter-of-factly. “There’s a lot I can’t say right now, but these attacks need to be stopped, or millions could die.”
Drake sighed as the cross-chatter in his office continued. “Agent Gannon, I’m ordering you to come into the station. Not in the mood for games right now.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t do that.”
Yet another pause, a long one. In regard to her job, she had officially reached the point of no return.
“I’m not sure I’m following,” Drake said.
Angela felt she was in the midst of a hopeless battle. Something was going to have to give. “I’m safe where I’m at for now. The entire area is too dangerous. That’s how serious this is.” She could envision him shaking his head in frustration.
“What is your source for this information, exactly?” Drake asked.
She was prepared for the question but still unsure of how to answer it. “I’ve been doing some investigating myself,” she replied. “And I came across some official plans.”
Drake, it seemed, was putting together the pieces. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with Burke’s disappearance also, would it? Captain Reynolds said that she saw you two leave together yesterday.”
Her response was simple. “Burke is not with me.”
Some more cross-chatter filled Drake’s office. Eager to get off the call, he continued. “Look. I expect to see you here within an hour. Those are your orders, and you can disregard them at your peril. Rest assured, all targets, soft and hard, are on high alert. Now would be the absolute worst time for ISIS to try something.” Somehow his certainty had failed to convince her.
“Yes, sir,” she said, knowing that she would soon be out of a job or worse.
He said, “I have to go now. I’ll see you soon.” With that he hung up before she could say anything more.
She felt as though she hadn’t accomplished anything. There had to be other people at the station she could call. People who would take her seriously. But who? She had only been a Border Patrol agent for a year. The closest relationship she had was with Captain Martinez. Then it dawned on her what she had to do. Martinez could help her.
That was, if she could get in contact with him.
He and his family had been placed under the protective watch of the FBI. The same service hadn’t been provided to her own family in time. As a result, her husband was dead. The FBI had lost her trust, and she didn’t want them involved. Martinez, however, was the key.
She called him immediately while glancing at a fried chicken place across the street. The girls were fast asleep, but they would be hungry in the morning. As the line rang, Angela faced concerns over her whereabouts being discovered. Martinez’s phone was obviously on the NSA’s radar, along with any conversations that transpired.
His phone, like Burke’s, went immediately to voice mail. Just an automated message repeating the number and saying it was not available. “Damn…” she said to herself.
There was little to do but sit on the information she had hidden in a desk drawer inside the hotel room. Perhaps she was overreacting. She then dismissed the idea. With Salah Asgar on the loose, anything was possible. She searched the news on her phone and saw everything Drake had told her as the lead story. The headlines made this clear enough.
Massacre at Garland Mosque
Assailant Described as “Young White Male”
Over 14 Dead in Horrific Shooting
She read whatever details she could about the incident but found them to be scant. As horrific as the shooting was, she feared more terrible news to come, more mayhem than she could even comprehend, and she felt completely unable to do anything about it. She stuck her cell phone in her pocket and went inside to lie with her girls.
***
Travis Durant’s vehicle was surrounded by flashing police cars assembled in the derelict parking lot of a vacant mattress warehouse. To Durant’s way of thinking, he had fought the good fight, and expected at some point soon to be caught, though he had given the authorities quite a chase. Several of the police were outside their cars and positioned behind their open drivers’ doors with pistols drawn. They weren’t taking any chances.
One officer was shouting at him to get out of the car. He wasn’t surprised that his time on the road had been cut short. People must have seen him leave the parking lot of the mosque. They had a good description of him and his vehicle—a black Honda Accord. It was strange, surreal even, to hear the news on the radio of a crime he himself had committed.
Soon his face would be all over television. They would look into his past and find multiple posts and comments on websites of all kinds, decrying Muslims in the U.S. and how he was going to “do something about it.” His family—they would never understand. Part of him felt for them. All the pain they would surely experience in the days, weeks, and months ahead. He would be vilified as a monster, and the media would be right to do so. It was all part of the plan. He’d had to put aside his personal feelings and concerns for others to do what was right. He was part of something larger than himself. And he was prepared and ready to achieve the final step toward martyrdom.
A thin haze of smoke from his engine passed over the windshield. Skid marks ran across the parking lot, ending at this vehicle. He’d pushed his car as fast as it would go. End of the line. The phone call to the 9-1-1 operator had bought him some time. He told her that his car was rigged to explode and if the police came any closer, he would detonate it. The police were forced to stand there and shout at him to exit. He imagined it wouldn’t be long before they got one of their sharpshooters to take a shot at him. In fact, he was counting on it.
He called his mother and told her that he loved her. She begged and pleaded with him to turn himself in. He turned the conversation to his younger siblings. “Tell Elise and Darren that I love them too. This was all me. I wanted to do this. Now I can achieve true peace.” Fearing that he was running out of time, he ended the call, despite his mother’s anguished sobs.
An officer crouched low to the ground was steadily approaching Travis’s car from the front, and he could see two others zeroing in on him from behind. Their vehicles formed a complete circle around him. It was pretty clear what needed to be done.
He would be lying to himself to say that he wasn’t nervous or scared. He feared death as much as anyone else. Part of him wanted to live. All he had to do was surrender. He flipped through his cell phone and quickly made another call, pressing the phone tightly against his ear. Sweat dripped down his forehead even with the air conditioner running. His body was burning up, true fear beginning to settle. Would he be able to do the right thing?
“Hello?” he said, near frantic, as soon as the call went through.
“Where are you?” a man’s voice said immediately.
“I’m sorry, my leader. The police have me surrounded and there’s no escape.”
“That was indeed a possibility. Now you know what you must do.”
“That’s correct. But, Mr. Asgar. What if the cops don’t shoot me? What if they use non-lethal measures? Then I’ll be caught and they’ll force me to say everything.”
The man turned strict and demanding. “Then you will take those measures in your own hand. I assume there are plenty of rounds left, correct?”
“Yes, but suicide. Isn’t that against Allah’s will?”
The man nearly laughed on the other end but contained himself. “Death in the service of his cause is greatly rewarded, regardless. Those Shia Muslims you killed were worse than the infidels with their false interpretation of our Prophet’s message. He commands their slaughter. Even better, it will keep the Americans preoccupied. Our attacks will come as a response to the mosque shooting, and the cycle will continue until it destroys them all.”
Travis nodded his head and looked onward nervously as the police officers continued their careful approach. “I’m scared, Salah. I’m scared.
“Of course you are. But the time is now. Our hideout was attacked earlier. Many men killed. I barely managed to escape.”
Travis gasped. “What? How?”
“The Americans are closing in. All attacks have been pushed up. The infidels won’t know what hit them.”
Travis swallowed. His throat felt like sandpaper. He wiped more sweat from his eyes while glancing at the pistol on the seat next to him. “I just… I don’t know if I’m ready. If they caught me, I wouldn’t tell them a thing. They’d never find out about you… about this.”
“I’m sorry, Travis. It would compromise the mission.”
The police officer in the front of the car was getting dangerously close. “Get out of the car!” he shouted. Travis was running out of time.
“Your service is crucial to our cause,” the man said.
“Okay,” Travis said, clenching his eyes shut. “I’m ready.”
“As-salamu alaykum,” Asgar said. “Paradise awaits you, brother.”
Travis took a deep breath and said goodbye. There was no one left to call and no one else to talk to. Asgar was right. He had to speed things up before he changed his mind. He had been a weak boy once, and the boy he had been before being recruited by ISIS would most definitely have leapt from the car, pleading with the police not to shoot. But he was a man now. An eternity of paradise in exchange for a few seconds of pain. He said an Arabic prayer under his breath and reached for his pistol as the police approached his car from all sides. If they weren’t going to shoot him then, he was prepared to change their minds.
“Last chance!” the officer shouted.
Travis opened his eyes and went for his pistol. “Allah, give me the strength.”
He raised the pistol and fired through the windshield. The crew-cut police officer hit the ground, but Travis didn’t know if he had shot him or not. The fresh cracks in his windshield blurred any views ahead. Mere seconds later, a barrage of gunshots came from behind him, blasting through his windows and tearing his car apart. He felt the bullets’ sting in his shoulder, back, and side, but they had not killed him yet. The sound was deafening and relentless. His mind and body were going. More shots came, vicious and violent, and then everything went black.
&
nbsp; Restless
Angela was in bed with her daughters, when her cell phone vibrated on the nearby nightstand. An infomercial flickered on the television screen in the otherwise dark room. She sat up, dazed and trying not to disturb her two sleeping daughters who lay on both sides of her. She reached over Lisa and grabbed the phone, eager to see who it was. The number was clear, and she felt her heart race. It was Burke. She nearly fell off the bed in relief and swiped the screen as fast as she could to avoid any chance of missing his call.
“Burke?” she said quietly. “Is that really you?”
She could hear traffic over the line. A loud, blaring horn, and the roar of a semi-truck passing by.
“Yeah! I’m here. Hold on!” he said, shouting.
She carefully lifted one bare leg over Lisa and climbed out of the bed in a T-shirt and underwear. The bright light from the muted television had her shielding her eyes as she hobbled to the bathroom in the corner of the room. Fortunately, she hadn’t woken the girls. They had been soundly sleeping for a while, and that was fine with her. Once inside the bathroom, she flipped the light switch on and quietly closed the door. She sat on the toilet lid, listening, but hearing only static over the phone, but no Burke.
“You still there?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, now with a clearer signal. It would seem that they both had adjustments to make.
“Where have you been?” Angela asked. “I’ve been worried sick.”
“Don’t be. You know I can handle myself.”
“I heard gunshots before we left. What happened?”
“Found a guy hiding under a cot in one of the rooms I was clearing. Sent him to join his friends, when another guy comes out of nowhere and fires at me. Took him out too.”
“What about Salah Asgar?”
“I can only assume he got away. Remember that trap door we found? There’s simply no opening it.”
Angela felt a rush of panic overtake her. The impending attacks were still in the works, and she hadn’t been able to do anything to stop them. “I called the Border Patrol and tried to warn the chief of what we found. He wasn’t very… convinced. He says all targets, soft and hard, are at their highest alert anyway.”
