by R. A. Lamb
Mohan Suk Alkobar sneered, “You got me all upset, Fed, see me shakin’.” Alkobar rattled the chain attached to his leg irons and laughed, “You got no proof, Gov. I’ll be sipping a brew at my favorite pub before the sun sets.”
“Thanks for reminding me. Stand up, Suky boy”
“What in bloody hell for?”
“Stand up and pull your pant legs up to your knees.”
“I think you lost your bloody mind.”
Wham. Hank slammed his fist on the metal table, “Do what I tell you punk or I’ll have it done for you.”
“Okay Gov’na don’t get um’ wadded.”
Mohan Suk Alkobar pushed back his chair and slowly drew a pant leg to his knee. There above his dirty sneaker was a white ankle and wrapped around his leg from ankle to knee was a tattoo. Blue barbed wire.
Hank glanced at the one way mirror. I nodded to Marty and he tapped twice on the glass.
“Lock him up,” Hank said to the patrolman. “The charge is espionage, terrorist’s acts against the United States by a foreign national. We’ll transfer him to a federal prison as soon as I get the paperwork.”
The police officer moved toward Alkobar. Mohan Suk Alkobar dropped his pant leg, pointed at the mirror with one hand and with the other drew a finger across his throat. The message was clear.
My mouth was dry as I whispered to Marty, “That’s him, I swear it.”
“That’s all we need now. I want to get you back to the safe house.”
Hank stayed at the station while Marty and another FBI Agent took me to the parking lot. The weather looked bad again. Moisture hung in the air. I glanced around as I got in the car and wondered why a plumbing repair van was parked partially in a no parking zone. His boss will be pissed when he gets a ticket, I thought.
We pulled out with an escort who played tag with us as we had before. Forty-five minutes later both vehicles pulled into the high rise parking garage and Marty, the FBI agent and I made our way to the apartment.
Inside Darvin sat at the desk and checked the monitors. Marty got a soda out of the fridge and I sank onto the sofa, picked up the TV remote and began to surf when I heard Darvin say, “That’s strange.”
“What’s that?” Marty said.
“A repair van just pulled into the garage.”
“What’s strange about that?”
“Services have their own parking area and their own service entrance.”
Marty and the FBI agent walked into the study and watched the screen. I followed. Three men in repairmen’s uniforms got out of a plumbing repair van and made their way to the elevators. One carried a tool box.
Marty leaned over Darvin’s shoulder, “See what their up to.”
Darvin hit a few keys. The monitor switched from the garage to the elevator. As soon as the door closed the repairman put the tool box down and opened it. He lifted off the top tray and took out three automatic weapons.
Marty murmured, “Uzis.”
I couldn’t see their faces from the camera angle. I didn’t have to.
“God damn,” the FBI agent said as he leaned forward to get a better view. The elevator stopped at six.
Darvin, raised his voice and pressed a button under the desk, “The safe room.” Immediately a portion of the bookcase slid forward. Behind it was a steel door. Darvin got up and pressed a combination on its key pad. “Get in there Todd and don’t come out until we give you the all clear.”
I saw Marty and the agent draw their weapons. Darvin closed the door behind me and I heard the bookcase snap into place. Chills ran up my arms. The room was totally dark. I ran my hands along the wall and touched a switch. A florescent light flickered then illuminated the room. It was about eight feet by ten and had a small table and chair at one end. There was a computer monitor, phone and a set of speakers on the table. Along a wall were two footlockers and a mini refrigerator. A sleeping bag and air mattress were rolled up on one of the lockers and a gas mask hung on a hook on the wall. I switched on the monitor. It came to life and I could see the study and part of the living area. I adjusted the speakers.
Crash. I heard the front door splinter and shouting but I couldn’t make out the words. Tat Tat Tat Tat, echoed through the speakers.
The monitors on the study desk exploded and several books were blown off the shelf. Bits of paper floated through the air and settled to the floor.
Crack. Crack.
I saw one of the terrorists stumble.
Crack. Crack. One of the intruders was blown backward against the wall and left a red streak on it as he slid to the floor. Shouting and gunshots filled the air; then it was quiet.
One of the intruders walked over to the terrorist slumped against the wall. He lifted the injured man’s head and shouted something in a foreign language to someone in the other room. The injured terrorist moved his lips: a trickle of blood ran down his chin. The third man came into view and raised his Uzi.
Tat. Tat. The injured man’s body jerked at the impact. The shooter walked toward the bookcase and out of the view of the camera. I heard books being knocked from the shelves.
The other terrorist searched the room. He opened the desk drawers and scattered files and papers on the floor. He bent down on one knee and examined the area under the middle drawer and the sides of the knee well. He must have found the button because the bookshelf swung away and came into camera view. I sat frozen, staring at the monitor.
The terrorists approached the steel door and tried to open it. There was scraping and a string of angry words.
The air conditioning system in the safe room clicked on and I jumped. I felt clammy. Cold sweat ran down my chest. Then I heard sirens. They got louder.
The men with Uzis walked to the door of the study. I saw one level his weapon at the safe room. Tat. Tat. Tat. Tat. I heard the pings as the bullets ricocheted off the steel door.
The other fired a burst into the living area. There was a crash of falling glass. They moved toward the front door and out of view.
Their dark Mediterranean skin and black eyes burned into my memory. One had a scar which ran from his right eye, along his cheek, to his earlobe. They hadn’t bothered to wear masks. I guess they weren’t worried about witnesses.
I wondered how I was going to get help. I picked up the phone by the monitor and dialed 911. No dial tone. I reached for my cell. No signal. My stomach churned and thought I was going to lose it.
Moments later men in flak jackets with automatic weapons appeared on the screen. In bold letters the jackets read FBI. One shouted, “Clear. Send for the medics, we have men down.”
It was like watching Law and Order SVU. Then I saw Hank. I pounded on the safe room door and shouted to the camera above it.
I guess he heard the noise. “The digital pad has been damaged, Todd. There‘s a handle on the side of the door, like on a walk-in freezer. Push it.”
Hank led me out of the study. It looked like a war zone. Two medics were bending over Darvin. On the floor a blood pool circled his head.
Another medic was unzipping a long black plastic bag beside Marty.
My voice trembled, “Are Marty and Darvin…? The rest of my words were too hard to get out.
Hank didn’t answer. We walked into the living area. The TV screen was shattered. A breeze gently blew the drapes where the front window had been and a pile of broken glass lay on the floor.
“Todd, I want agents Adams and Blakely to take you out of here. They know where to go. I’ll join you as soon as I finish.”
Chapter 5
Two agents in body armor escorted me to the garage. I got into the back of a black suburban. The agents sat up front. Our tires squealed. We headed west out of town on Interstate 66 and drove for half an hour. We passed a shopping center in Manassas, pulled into a park-and-ride and changed cars then circled through some residential areas not unlike the one I grew up in back in Texas. The houses were small. Some brick, some frame. We pulled into a driveway and went inside a house with
white siding.
It was an older home with a living room, small kitchen and three small bedrooms. Modestly furnished and had a 25 inch TV. I walked to the front window and took hold of the pull cord to the venetian blinds.
“Leave the blinds down and don’t stand in front of the windows. Do you like Chinese,” agent Blakely reached for the phone?
I didn’t have much appetite although I do like Chinese. After dinner I watched TV while the agents played cards at the kitchen table. I turned it off just before the late night news. I didn’t want to know what the world was doing. Mine was crazy enough.
“I’m going to turn in. See you in the morning.” I turned toward a bedroom.
Agent Adams tossed in his cards, “I’ll flip to see who takes the first watch.”
Agent Blakely lost.
It was a tough night. I kept seeing bullets tear apart the apartment and the terrorist’s body leaving a red streak on the wall. The next morning the phone rang as we were having scrambled eggs and bacon. Agent Adams put down his coffee, “Hello.”
He listened then hung up, “Holland wants us to move to location Green Tree. This site may be compromised.”
I wondered how in the world could it be compromised and if it was, how in the world was it done? I knew DC was all about security, metal scanners, badges and… And crap, how did Hank know?
Agent Blakely scooted out his chair, “Leave the dishes; let’s get to the car.”
We were in the yard and I had opened the rear door of the suburban when from our left a maroon Honda Accord raced down the quiet street. The rear window was down.
Tat. Tat. Tat. Tat.
Both agents drew their weapons at the sound of the first shot. Agent Blakely got off two rounds before a second burst from the car spun him around. His gun fell from his hand; he crumpled to the ground on top of it.
At the second burst I ducked for cover behind the rear tire of the SUV. The Accord screeched to a halt. The driver threw it in reverse, burning rubber. They were making another pass. I saw Agent Adams sprawled on the grass about four steps away. I scrambled over to him. It was obvious he was dead. His head was… Anyway I scooped up his gun.
Two car doors slammed, more burning rubber. Whoever they were, they were now after me. I ran around the side of the house.
Tat. Tat. Tat. Tat. I saw a line of ugly holes form in the wall of the neighbor’s house as I ran to the back yard. I dove over the fence, tucked and rolled. Then was on my feet running again. I jumped and pulled myself over the wooden fence in the back of the yard and dropped to the ground as a spray of bullets tore the fence above my head sending chunks of wood through the air. I crawled on my knees a few feet, got up and ran for all I was worth.
A dozen houses ahead was an open garage door; I ducked inside and hit the automatic door button.
It lowered and closed with a thud. A few seconds later I heard someone run past. The man was shouting. I couldn’t make out what he said. My brain was fried. I pulled out Agent Adam’s gun, held it in a death grip pointing it at the closed garage door. Seconds dragged by. There were no more sounds.
I glanced around. It was a two car garage with an old Ford 150 pickup parked on one side. My side was empty, except for an oil spot on the floor. Shelves filled with boxes, paint cans and some empty bottles filled one wall. The automatic garage door light clicked off and I was in total darkness again.
I waited until I couldn’t take it any longer and found a light switch. The pickup was unlocked but I didn’t know how to wire it. I slid behind the wheel and opened the glove box, nothing but receipts, an operations manual and an air pressure gauge. I pulled the visor down and felt a rush of adrenalin. Held by a wide rubber band next to the garage door opener were two keys on a ring. One fit the ignition and I started the truck. The gauge registered half a tank.
I began to cough as the garage filled with exhaust fumes and pushed the opener button. The door slowly rose. I drove out before it was completely up. The street was quiet. I glanced at the gun lying on the seat beside me and laid my hand over it. It helped my confidence.
I drove toward the safe house. The street was blocked off by police and unmarked cars, lights flashing. I slowed to a crawl. Yellow tape was strung around the yard and driveway. The suburban was still there only its windows were missing and ugly holes pocked the side panel.
There were two sets of tread marks on the street and a crowd of curiosity seekers were gathered. An ambulance slowly pulled away and so did I.
I passed the shopping center and got on the highway for downtown DC. My mind raced. How did they know where we were? Why do they want me dead?
I entered downtown and found my way to 14th Street and Constitution NW, pulled into a parking garage across the street from the Department of Commerce Building and called a cell number. It was answered on the first ring. “Todd where are you?”
“Kathy, just listen, I need your help.”
I heard her voice tremble. “You were on NBC News. They said you are the witness in the Capitol Hill espionage case.”
“What else did they say,” my heart began racing?
“That informed sources reported you can identify the terrorist who bombed the tunnels. Is that true, Todd?”
“Ah, yes but I’ll explain later. Anything else?”
“Today someone with your security badge tried to get in our office building. The security guard was able to stop him.”
“What did the guy look like? Did the guard catch him?”
“He got away. The guard said he was young, probably from the Middle East, dark skin, curly hair and a scar on his face. He stabbed the guard in the arm. Extra security was posted at the entrances and in the hallway outside the Congressman’s office.”
“Are you and the Congressman okay, Kathy?”
“Everyone’s fine. And your parents called. They’re worried and are flying to Washington tomorrow.”
I cleared my throat, “I can’t believe this is happening to me and I need your help. Things happened today that prove I can’t trust anyone right now at the FBI or DC police. There’s got to be a leak. You’re the only one I trust. Will you help me?”
“Of course, what do you want me to do?”
“You remember the place you told me your parents took you when you were in grade school and you wanted to show me?”
“You mean the National--?”
“Don’t say it. I want you to meet me there. I’ll tell you everything when I see you. And Kathy?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
I hung up, left the truck and looked around the parking garage until I found a place to stash the gun. I knew there would be a security check where I was meeting Kathy.
I waited nearly an hour then walked to the garage exit. Rain was falling again, a gentle cleansing rain. I ran across the street to an entrance in the basement level of the Department of Commerce building. A small sign read National Aquarium. A strange location to keep fish but it seemed like a safe meeting place.
Inside were two security guards sitting beside a metal detector. I dumped my keys and change into a tray, walked through and paid my entry fee. I picked up a brochure and starting reading it just to kill time. The Aquarium had been there since the 1870’s. A diagram showed the layout, a gift shop, a few lecture rooms and rows of fish tanks built into the walls along wide hallways.
I pretended to continue to read but kept an eye on the entrance. I felt out of place standing there so I made my way to the first exhibit which contained two small alligators in an everglades setting. It reminded me of the nature trail at the park Mom and Dad stopped at just over the Louisiana border from Beaumont. Again I glanced toward the entrance. No sign of Kathy.
I slowly made my way down the dimly lit corridor stopping at each exhibit. I passed angel fish, turtles and sea bass tanks and was approaching the sand sharks when I saw her walking toward me carrying a small umbrella and a conc
erned look.
“Hi.”
“Hey, thanks for coming, Kathy.”
“You okay?”
“Sorry to miss the run to the Lincoln Memorial. I was looking forward to a prize. What was it anyway?”
Kathy gave me a grin and hit me in the arm, “Now you’ll never know.”
We held hands and quickly made our way through the rest of the exhibits. We paused in a secluded corner of the gift shop. “What’s going on Todd?”
I looked around before answering, “The police picked up a suspect from the tunnel bombing based on the description I gave them. I saw him in an interrogation room where he was being questioned. It was him, Kathy, one of the terrorists.”
“Oh my God.”
Kathy put her arm around my waist and hugged me to her. I looked down into her blue green eyes, “Its okay, I mean he’s in custody. He can’t hurt me now. It’s the other terrorists in his cell I’m worried about.”
Some passersby’s stared at us and smiled. I guessed they thought, well I didn’t know what they thought. Kathy saw them too and withdrew her arm. She nodded for me to continue.
“The FBI took me to a safe house for protection but somehow the terrorists found us and shot them. They’re dead, Kathy. Shot them dead. I was lucky to get away.”
“How could they find you?”
“I don’t know for sure but somehow they knew. I hid in a vacant garage and when I got back to the safe house there were police everywhere.”
Oh, Todd I can’t believe it.”
“I stole a pickup. I’ll have to leave it here. I mean in the garage across the street.”
Kathy whispered, “Do you think the terrorists have someone on the force?”
“I think they have. How else could they find me so easily? I can’t trust the DC Police or the FBI right now.”
“What are you going to do? You need a place to hide.”
“I was thinking --”
Kathy interrupted, “Mmm, my apartment’s no good. Listen my Aunt is on a cruise for another five days and I promised to check her house and water her plants. The key’s at my place.”
