“You will all go inside the larger truck and come out when the time comes. You will follow instructions. Then, you will perform your final act of jihad for Allah.”
The two men who had brought in the boxes came and grabbed Ahmed, and hauled him up onto the side of the bomb inside the ambulance. They took out two large nylon straps with ratchets and wrapped them around him and the bomb, tightening them to the point where he could barely breathe. They slammed the doors shut and bolted them.
The ambulance started up, and they backed it up inside. Then the other boys filed in and took their positions.
They shut the door, and they all sat silently in the pitch dark. A couple were sniffling and crying, afraid to say anything, lest they be seen as cowards. The only light coming in was from cracks in the frame and screw holes. It was very, very hot. They all sat, scared and sweating. The truck fired up, and it pulled out. Behind, a white van followed with three Moon God assassins inside, keeping watch with major weaponry at the ready.
67
At one hour before first pitch, the crowds outside were getting huge. The place held thirty-five thousand. Aaron was struggling to keep eyes on everyone as the masses were weaving in and out. He hoped everyone on the cameras upstairs were on their game. Amazing, how in a world of ‘smart’ technology, so many were still comfortably numb to the realities of the dangers in the world.
“Baxter, checking in. Anything going on?”
“Negative, Baxter. Keep eyes open.”
He began pacing around the front entry gates and decided to step up on a wide concrete post to get a better viewing station. People were walking by, hooting and hollering at him, obviously enjoying some of the beverages readily available everywhere.
A white van pulled up down the block that piqued his interest. The side door slid open and two men got out. They pulled out two bicycles and mounted them. They looked odd. He pulled up his binoculars and sighted them in. They were wearing heavy-looking outer clothing, though it was near eighty degrees.
“Baxter, here. I have eyes on some suspicious characters who just exited a van on fourth. They are on bikes, wearing odd-looking jackets. Bulky.”
“Roger.”
“See if you can get a cam on them.”
“Roger.”
He walked into the tide of incoming people, trying to keep track of them.
“Baxter, we got them, but they disappeared down into the vendor area,” they said over the radio.
“I am on my way over there,” Baxter responded back.
Just then, a very drunk group came stumbling up. A young girl tripped and fell into him.
“Ohhhh. Sssorry, maaan,” she slurred.
Just then, she keeled over and vomited all over him and the ground.
“Oh, my God.” He tried to jump back, but the crowds were too large. He was hit with everything.
He looked down at the mess all over him. He wiped much of it off with his hand and bent down to help the girl.
“Here, let me help you up.” He lifted her up and all her friends were laughing and carrying on, making fun of her. She was in a near stupor.
“Ohhhhh, I mushta drankk tooo mush,” she mumbled.
“That's an understatement.” He looked over to the friends. “I have to go, please take her to the medics inside the front door. They will help her.”
He radioed in.
“Just got hit with a puke bomb by a drunk girl. Where are they now?” he asked.
“We haven't seen them since. Head to vendor row and take a look,” security radioed back.
There were a lot of unusual looking things going on everywhere, being the World Series. Uncle Sam on stilts, mimes, jugglers, and the like; every crazy from here to Yuma was in town.
He made his way to the row and found a bathroom. He went in and cleaned off the best he could.
He walked down one side and eyeballed inside every tent. Mostly drunks and revelers buying food, booze, and souvenirs. He made it all the way to the end and then turned around and came up the other side. Same thing.
“Damn. I lost them. Any luck up there?” he radioed in.
“Negative,” came the response.
“It may have been nothing, but it sure seemed weird,” he replied back.
“We'll keep an eye out. We are going back over the vid to see if we can see what they look like,” security came back.
He headed back to the front of the stadium, smelling awful. He took his position back up and waited.
68
The truck was stifling hot as they made their way to the stadium. Everyone was feeling ill. Some were crying openly. Ahmed was coming around as they rocked down the road.
“Hey! Someone help me here! Please get me off of this thing! Please!” he was pleading inside the ambulance.
One of the boys, the bully ringleader, pounded on the ambulance door and shouted, “Shut up, pussy! We are all going to our destiny!”
The other boys were afraid to say anything and sat stone silent.
He sat and prayed in the back of the ambulance. “God, if you can hear me. Please stop this thing. Help me now. I will believe in you,” he said out loud.
The truck slowed and made a long turn on an exit ramp and came to a stop. There was much traffic around outside. Horns were honking. People were shouting. Life was out there.
69
Three hours earlier
Jackson and Adam rechecked their gear and hopped into the UAV.
Adam called his wife and told her they were on their way. He told her he loved her and everything would be OK.
When he had finished, he gave the phone to Jackson.
“Hi, Sam. How are the kids?” he asked.
“They are fine, Jim. You’d better come back to us. We are counting on you,” Sam was choking back tears.
“You know I will, Sam. Please kiss them both for me and say a prayer. Come hell or high water, we are going to figure this out.”
“I know you will, Jim. I’m not worried. There is someone bigger than all of us at work here. Have faith.”
Here he was calling to reassure her, but she was reassuring him.
“Bye, Sam. I'll talk to you soon. Just in case I don't get back, I still love you,” Jackson said.
“You'll be back,” she replied.
He clicked off.
They kept the a.m. radio on the whole way down. Barry hadn’t warned anyone going to game, so Jackson pulled up Tracey Brent's web page and Twitter feed on the dash-mounted iPad. She had sent out a warning, but who knew if anyone was heeding it.
It was three hours before first pitch. When they arrived downtown, they were met with about a fifty-fifty split of cars coming in and leaving. They pulled up across the street from the large truck entry at Chase Field and saw row after row of media satellite trucks. There were vendor tents lining both Third Street and Fourth street.
Chase Field was located right in the middle of downtown Phoenix. It encompassed an area of almost two city blocks. It was also directly under the flight path of PHX International Airport. Built in 1998, it was the first stadium of its kind with a fully retractable roof. Although they kept it shut most of the time during summer, they would open it before and after games in the fall. There were also huge window-like doors that swung open on the back side by the scoreboard, so it could essentially be an outdoor stadium while still enclosed.
They put on the APS jackets and helmets that Tom had given them for cover and clipped on badges. They put orange street cones around the Sequoia and stuck magnetic APS signs on the sides. They grabbed a manhole tool and walked over to open the one next to the truck, making it look like they were running cables for the Arizona Public Service.
Jackson took off on foot to see if he could catch sight of the ambulance, and Adam stayed behind.
He walked around the block and saw rows of semis parked, offloading supplies. There were people strolling everywhere. Families and couples. Large groups of tourists with cameras. There were sports and ne
ws people scurrying around, with camera teams following them, looking for interviews.
Local, national, and international media was everywhere, as could be expected for a World Series, but even more than usual following the threat rumors.
Jackson knew there was no way to check behind every tent to see if an ambulance was around, there were many all over the place. Plus, what if the right one wasn't even down here yet?
Adam clicked the comms and talked to Ryan. He gave him their location and let him know that they were in place. Ryan told him that the guys had taken off about forty-five minutes earlier and were sitting at Deer Valley Airport, north of downtown. “I’ve been doing some checking and cross-referencing parts of the files that mention this Al-Rafsanjani character, and we were right. He is a real dude. At the State Patrol, but I don’t think he works for the state. His name is Baldwin. I deep-searched all his social media and cellphones, and it is definitely him. No doubt.”
Adam erupted with fury. “Baldwin! That freaking piece of shit! I knew he was no good. He was at my house, too! I’ll kill that bastard!”
Jackson came back around the block and hopped back into the UAV, and Adam told him what Ryan had discovered about Baldwin.
“And who could be surprised about any of that? I wouldn’t be shocked if he was the one that set me up that night to get me thrown out of the Spook House. These bastards will do anything to protect and grow their power,” Jackson said.
“Well, now we know who has been orchestrating things on the inside,” Adam said. “Did you get eyes on anything?”
“No sight of anything yet. Who knows? Maybe they won't show until right before the game? Maybe not even until the game has already started.”
They had asked Ryan to hack into the stadium's playlist of announcements and guests to see if there was anything about a truck entering and circling the field. He forwarded it to the iPad in the truck, and it looked like there was to be a crew of Junior Rangers to enter after the introductions of both teams. They were to circle the field before the national anthem. The stands should be mostly full and cameras would be running in all the press boxes. The ambulance was to circle the outer edges of the field on the warning track and turn around and head back, while an announcement about staying safe on the trails was played.
“We're gonna need to keep eyes on everything coming in and out of that gate. They may have changed delivery tactics, too,” Jackson said.
There was a very heavy police presence in the area, but they left them alone. They had the strobe brake and front lights going on the UAV, so they looked official. How many were actually there to defend the place and not to help facilitate the attack? No one was to be trusted.
Back at the ranch, Ryan was busy looking at Earthsat and traffic cameras in real time, watching for an ambulance heading toward the downtown area. He was scanning everything within a mile of the stadium, and he was also watching the cams on the north end of town, heading west on I-10 and northwest on Highway 93, towards Sedona and north.
"Anything yet?" Tom asked him.
"Nope. There are a ton of trucks, but no ambulance, and nothing that I can tell heading north either."
The chopper was waiting on the tarmac about five minutes north of downtown by air. They were sitting with nearly full tanks, figuring they could get about three hours flying time at three-quarter throttle. Brad hoped that would be enough.
They needed to stay on the ground as long as possible to preserve every drop.
Tom radioed the UAV. "Anything yet?"
"Negative. We are static here, watching the rear gate."
Jackson had gotten out and walked around the perimeter one more time. When he came back, they had gotten harassed by a cop, but he had gone away when they’d flashed their APS badges.
People were streaming in, and some were just getting word on their phones and were leaving.
Ryan had the local TV newsfeed pulled up on a screen at the office. The reporters were interviewing people, asking questions like, “Are you worried about an attack?” and “What will you do if there is terrorism?” They were keeping everyone calm in typical idiot news media fashion.
There were lots of drunks around, whooping and hollering, acting as if nothing fazed them. He was sure nothing did. They all looked well-primed, as most did in the modern era of sports events. A few families were leaving with bummed-out kids in tow, saying they were just being cautious, what with the rumors. There was a weird mix of nerves and excitement.
Baldwin had headed over to the stadium at the invite from the Mayor to sit up in the Owners’ Suite. He was excited and nervous to see the fruition of his years-long infiltration finally come to pass. He entered the stadium about forty minutes before game time, took the private elevator up to the Suite Level, and headed to the proper door. He tapped and one of the Mayor’s aides looked through the peephole and opened the door.
“Welcome, Mr. Baldwin! It is a pleasure to have you join us all tonight.”
He was escorted over to the Mayor and his entourage, and the Mayor lit up when he saw him.
“Captain Baldwin! Thank you for coming tonight! Everyone, this is Captain Baldwin of Homeland Security from Washington. He has been doing fine work with our State Patrol, coordinating important issues with the administration in Washington.”
Everyone smiled and nodded, shaking his hand.
“Captain, please let everyone in Washington know how much we appreciate yours, and their fine work here in the Valley. We couldn’t possibly do the things we do without all your efforts.”
The Mayor was big buddies with the President, and had his sights set on the US Senate and higher.
He was laying it on thick, knowing he had been hand-selected to oversee the State Intel Department by his good friend in the White House.
“It’s truly our pleasure to assist,” Baldwin said, schmoozing back.
“Would you like a cocktail, Captain?” one of the aides offered.
He turned up his nose and said, “I don’t drink.”
“Oh, of course, I am so sorry… I didn’t realize.” The aide was a little stunned.
“I have never touched alcohol in my life. I find it… abhorrent,” he said scathingly.
“Sure, sure, Captain. We understand.” He had said it so forcefully that it had shocked everyone, and they turned to continue their small talk from before he had arrived.
He walked over and took a seat by himself, watching the spectacle unfolding below, smiling to himself. He checked his watch and sat patiently, waiting for things to begin.
70
The semi slowed and pulled to a stop. The driver came out and hit a button as the back gate lifted down. They all blinked and took deep breaths. They saw the field and all the people milling around.
The bigger boy leapt to his feet. “Now, we all go! Get out.”
The boys walked down the ramp and out of the truck gasping in the fresh air - the last breaths they would ever take.
“Keep walking!” he shouted, making sure no one ran.
They made their way out of the tunnel as the ambulance started up and came down the ramp behind them.
Ahmed was trapped inside. He had managed to get one arm free from the nylon strap and was struggling to get the other one out. He was pounding on the back door with his one free hand and shouting. The bigger boy banged on the door. “Shut up in there, pussy! Time's up. Now we all die!”
The boys walked forward, and the ambulance rolled out onto the diamond's dirt warning track.
At precisely the moment he was expecting, Baldwin saw the ambulance pull into the back area of the field and the young men filing in.
He pulled out his phone, looking at the screen.
He stood and said, “If you will excuse me, I have an urgent call to attend to. I will be back shortly.”
“Of course, Captain! Please hurry back. We’ll save your seat for you,” the mayor said. “And tell the President how much we appreciate all he is doing.” He winked.
<
br /> Baldwin looked at him blankly, knowing they would all be incinerated into hell in a few minutes.
He turned and hurriedly went out the door and down the hallway, leading the stairs.
He bolted through the door and practically flew down them to the ground floor. He burst out and bolted for the entrance. Pushing people out of the way that were still entering and ran out onto the sidewalk in front.
He hustled quickly towards the VIP parking area on the other side of the vendor row.
71
The guys in the UAV were getting jumpy as the time was fast approaching. Where the hell was the ambulance? Their plan was to intercept it as it pulled up, take it over, and drive it out as fast as possible and, if needs be, all the way out into the desert before it detonated. For all they knew, it was on a remote. They assumed as much, as the timing would need to be perfect for maximum damage. Couldn't trust it to some kid to set it off. A device of this complexity would require more than a cell phone detonation. Thankfully, the stadium was only about one-third full. Restaurants and bars were full of people hanging out and waiting to see if anything would happen, and then maybe they would go in later.
At 4:30, they radioed in to the chopper and told them to get up in the air. There was nothing to report, but it would be best if they were moving.
At 4:41, a semi pulled up to the back gate. It was a closed-back, car-hauler style vehicle. The gate opened, and it backed inside the stadium. The rear door came down, and a group of young men in uniform streamed out of the back, along with the ambulance.
They were waving at the crowds. Everyone was waving back.
“Damn! They got it through in the back of that semi!” Adam shouted.
They jumped out and ran headlong to the gate just as it closed up.
They banged on the gate and one of the Moon Gods glared and told them to go away. He spat at them. “Kaffir, you will soon die.” He thumbed his pistol. He had a blood drop tattoo and a crescent moon on his upper neck. Adam pulled out his Desert Eagle and blew a hole right through his forehead.
Black Flag Rising: A James Jackson Thriller Page 25
