The Ticking Clock

by Daniel Roland Banks

  “No, he’s burned through a lot of money, probably family money, but he isn’t wealthy at all. I think he’s running low on cash.” I said.

  “Well then, he must have some sort of plan we don’t know about.” She replied.

  “Yes, I imagine he does. Thanks, Christine. You’re on the right track to finding him. Please make it your first priority.”

  “It already is, John. You’ve made that very clear. Besides, I’m pretty curious about this guy myself.”

  I’d a thought.

  “Christine, you follow the local music scene, have you ever heard of a local band called the Honky Tonk Broncs?”

  “You’re kidding, right? Did you read this morning’s paper? The Broncs are becoming the best known band in the Ark-La-Tex. They’re supposed to be the opening act for Kyle Coltrane, this weekend.”

  “How is that newsworthy?”

  “Obviously you didn’t read the paper. Jeff Tolbert, the lead guitarist for the Broncs, just committed suicide.”

  What an interesting turn of events. Some would say a coincidence. I don’t believe in coincidence. This would require further investigation.

  “Christine, do you know anyone connected with the band?”

  “No, but I can make some inquiries. All the members live here in the area. They’re expected to break out and start touring, maybe with Kyle Coltrane. This is a lousy time to lose their lead guitarist. What do you want to know?”

  “Nothing, right now, let it go. I was just curious.”

  “Uh uhh, I know you better than that. You’re never just curious.” She narrowed her eyes at me.

  I shrugged in response.

  “Ok, out with it. Why are you asking?” She demanded.

  “Well, I was thinking about taking Hafsah to the concert on Saturday, and wanted to maybe, you know, get good tickets and maybe a back stage pass…”

  Christine lit up like the Eiffel Tower at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve, all smiles and twinkling eyes.

  “Wahoo! I knew it! You bet, John. I don’t know anybody connected with the Broncs, but I know the concert promoters. I’ll make it happen.”

  “Really, you can do that?”

  “Leave it to me. We could double date. Tony and I were planning to go Saturday night, anyway.”

  “Yeah? I think Hafsah would like that.”

  “You should give Tony a call, and tell him about your plans.”

  “OK, I’ll do it. It’s not exactly a slow news day, huh?” I observed.

  Christine just shook her head.

  I called Tony.

  “Hey J.W., what’s the buzz?” He asked, by way of greeting.

  “Nothing new, how’s the fuzz?”

  “Ouch, was that a derogatory reference to my employment in public service as a peace officer? I’ll have you run in and we’ll take the rubber hose to you.”

  “What if I give you donuts?”

  “…Donuts? Yeah, cops like donuts.”

  We both laughed.

  “Listen, Christine and I were talking. She tells me you and she are planning to go to the Kyle Coltrane concert on Saturday. I was wondering if I could join you, and bring a date.”

  “Yeah, Christine has an in with the concert promoters, so…Wait a minute. Did you say ‘bring a date’?”

  “Yep.”

  “You? You have an interest in a girl?”

  “Woman, Tony. It’s socially unacceptable and politically incorrect to say ‘girl’. Besides, why act so surprised?”

  “Who’s acting?”

  “So, I take it you have no objections.”

  Tony laughed.

  “No, of course not, it should be a really good time.”

  “Listen, the opening act is a band called the “Honky Tonk Broncs. I understand the lead guitar player for the band is recently deceased…”

  “…Oh boy, here we go.” Tony said.”

  “The paper says it was an apparent suicide. Has the coroner confirmed it?”

  Tony was quiet for a moment. Finally he spoke up, his voice subdued.

  “You always do this. I swear, I should expect it, but I never do.”

  “Do what?”

  “I have the report in front of me, right this minute.”

  “…And?”

  “And, the cause of death was strangulation with asphyxiation.”

  “…Strangulation with asphyxiation, by what means?”

  “He was found hanging in his garage. There was a length of rope tied to a rafter. He was hanging by the neck from that rope.”

  “So, it was a suicide?”

  Tony was quiet again. Sometimes he still struggles with how much he can tell me and what he should withhold. He cleared his throat before he spoke.

  “This department will be conducting an investigation of a possible homicide.”

  “Ok, why?”

  “You do know what I just told you is known to no one outside this department?”

  “Yeah, I get it. I understand, you’re the detective Lieutenant of the Robbery/Homicide division. Come on Tony, I’m not a reporter. There’s a tie-in to a case I’m working on.”

  “What a surprise.” He said.

  “So, there is some sort of evidence leading you to suspect foul play?”

  “Of course, Sherlock. What a brilliant deduction. However did you work it out?”

  “Clues, Inspector Clouseau, it’s all about the clues.”

  “So I’ve heard.” He growled.

  20

  I’d just gotten off the phone with Tony, when Jack called.

  “Can you meet me in thirty minutes, in the same place we met last time?” There wasn’t a real sense of urgency. He asked the question as though he were inviting me to have a cup of coffee.

  “No, I have an appointment at Olympic Plaza. I’ll meet you for lunch though.”

  “OK, when and where?”

  “Let’s say noon, at ‘Currents’. Do you know where that is?”

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  “OK, see you then.”

  The whole conversation had been a subterfuge. He set the time. I verified the location. The bit about lunch at Currents was a red herring. There was always a possibility someone could be listening in. In this case it was pretty much a certainty. It was all I could do to avoid giving a big, warm Texas ‘howdy’ to the NSA or whoever Jack had monitoring my phone calls.

  I would keep the meeting with Jack in thirty minutes at Olympic Plaza.

  When I arrived at Olympic Plaza, Jack was already parked on the roof of the parking garage. He met me on foot, as I stepped out of my truck.

  “Let’s walk around and enjoy the view.” He suggested.

  Jack’s suggestions are always just thinly veiled orders. This time I was not annoyed. It was a beautiful fall day in East Texas. A cold front had blown through, lowering the temperature to a more autumnal normal level. The sun was shining, but even up here on the roof of the parking garage the temperature was only about eighty degrees. I was already enjoying the breeze. The view out over the city was that of a dense green forest, with only the tallest buildings rising above it. The trees wouldn’t begin to change color till the end of October.

  As we walked, we were both constantly looking for observers or eavesdroppers. We saw only a few people coming or going from the medical complex. The top of the garage was reserved for docs and other employees but not many needed, and fewer wanted, to drive all the way up onto the roof. We were virtually alone up there.

  “I understand you spent a couple of hours in the room of a visiting Mossad agent, last night.” Jack informed me.

  “No, it must have been some other guy your agents were following.” I said. “Did you listen in on our conversation as well?”

  “Now, John, don’t go getting all bent out of shape. I have to keep tabs on everyone involved in this situation. No, I wasn’t able to listen in on your… interactions, with the Mossad agent. I expect you to bring me up to speed, now. It’s just part of
the job. You remember how that works, right?”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Good. Now, what is the latest development?”

  “We’d a really great lead. Hakim, using the name Nat Baha, bought an electric guitar from a local pawnshop, three days ago. He was looking for some additional equipment. We were going to provide it and lure him to the pawnshop. Our plan to pick him up at the pawn shop fell through, because he’d already found the equipment.”

  “So, he really is a musician. Damn! That was a good lead. What about Hafsah, did she have any luck with Aaron Parviz?”

  “You tell me. Clearly, you know she met him.”

  “Stop being so petulant, of course we have Parviz under surveillance. I recognized Hafsah from the photos our agents took at the convenience store yesterday. No one knows who she is, but me. Her hijab was covering most of her face.”

  “I’m not being petulant. I just like my privacy. It used to be a right. Now privacy is more like a memory. There isn’t anywhere you can go in any town where you aren’t being photographed at some point, by someone. You never know who’s watching you. I know you have somebody watching my every move, probably listening in on all my phone conversations as well. I don’t like it.”

  “Paranoid much?” He asked.

  “Even if I am paranoid, it doesn’t mean federal agents aren’t watching me.”

  “That’s what they all say. Besides, if we are, it’s a matter of national security,” Jack reminded me, with the usual lack of emotion.

  “In this case, yes. I accept that. But, when will it end?”

  “Not until we’ve eliminated the threat. Did Hafsah make any progress with Parviz?”

  I considered my response.

  “Yes, she did. He’s taken an intensely keen interest in her. We plan to leverage it. You should also know that Nat Baha has contacted some of the local recording studios. He’s shopping prices, but I don’t think he can afford to cut a demo record himself. I think he has other plans.”

  “I don’t care about his recording plans. Do you have any idea what target they have in mind?”

  “Not yet. If you have people watching the other suspects, they should be able to determine if and when they start doing target assessment.”

  “Locally, they’ve attended movies, gone to sporting events and shopped at the mall. They’ve all done pretty much the same things, at a whole host of places in Dallas. Dallas is a much more target rich environment. The AT&T stadium alone holds tens of thousands of people. They may have already chosen the first target.”

  “Yes, I imagine they have.” I agreed.

  “But, you have no idea?”

  “There’s a big concert coming up in Tyler. Be a lot of people there for that.”

  “Which one, are you referring to the Tyler Symphony, Slippery G the rapper, or the Kyle Coltrane concert?” Jack asked.

  “You’ve done your homework.”

  “Eternal vigilance is the price of freedom.”

  “Now you tell me.”

  “So, which one were you referring to?”

  “Aaron Parviz will be playing drums with his band the Honky Tonk Broncs, as the opening act for Kyle Coltrane.” I informed him.

  “That’s something to consider.”

  “I imagine you already have. I figure since you have people watching Parviz, you already knew about the concert and you have that angle covered.”

  “I’ve arranged to have the venue swept for explosives. You know, when a jihadist decides it’s time to go to paradise, they kill as many infidels as they can in the process.”

  I was watching Jack carefully. He was avoiding eye contact with me. He was playing me in some way. It was as if he were talking in generalities, trying to skirt the real issue.

  “I don’t see that as being particularly likely. I don’t think they’re planning to go out with a big bang. You told me you thought this group planned to hit several targets in succession. Shoot up one place and move on to another, spreading as much terror around as they can, for as long as they can, before they get caught or killed.”

  “I still think so. I don’t believe this group wants to go out in a single event. We believe they’re planning to attack random and diverse public venues, like restaurants, sporting events, movie theaters and shopping malls. There’s intelligence suggesting they’re the first of several cells planning for a bigger offensive, randomly killing people without any apparent warning or provocation in several different towns and cities all over the country. It’s not even a real network. The Islamic State has compartmented each cell, communicating with them independently. Other than Nat Baha, these are all self-radicalized American citizens. They want to make their fellow citizens afraid to go to any place where people are gathered. Their goal is to terrorize the populace so much; they effectively shut down our economy.”

  “It’s barbaric and primitive. In this digital age, far more economic damage could be done through cyber warfare. Attacking and killing people as a means of geopolitical economic manipulation is a crude step backward in time.

  Jack shook his head.

  “At present, these jihadists don’t have the sophistication, the capability, or the resources for effective cyber warfare. They have to rely on tried and true terror techniques. They seem bent on turning the world back about fourteen hundred years. Human beings are readily available and completely disposable to them. They’ll do more than enough damage to our society by killing people at random.”

  “You don’t think the Kyle Coltrane concert will be the big debut? It looks like most of the other suspects are going to be at that concert.”

  “How would I know?”

  “The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.” I said.

  Jack nodded.

  “So I’ve heard.”

  21

  Christine had come up with another idea. I was standing in the reception area, in front of Christine’s desk.

  “John, think about this. If Nat Baha is really a hot guitar man, he’ll want several guitars. I could contact the local pawn shops and music stores again and dangle a worm. What if we’d one of Stevie Ray Vaughan’s guitars for sale? Most axe men would crawl across cut glass for one of those. You know how those guys are.”

  Actually, I wasn’t even sure I understood what she’d just said.

  “Which guys?”

  “Musicians, you know…electric guitar players.”

  “I don’t think I understand you. Are you saying you can get a guitar that was played by Stevie Ray Vaughan?”

  “No… Well, maybe. The point is we can say we have it, and …No, it won’t work. We’d have to actually have the guitar, show pictures of it, and someone would have to be able to document that it was, in fact, one of Stevie’s guitars. It would take too much time.” Christine was chewing her lower lip. “Did you just roll your eyes?” she snapped at me.

  I chuckled. “I’m sorry. I do understand your thinking, Christine. If we could come up with the right enticement, we could lure him out in the open.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What about an audition? Could we find a way to create a fake audition? I’m already fronting as a music producer looking for new talent?”

  “Brilliant! That’s it, John! I’ll get started on it right away. We could rent a local recording studio for a day or two. It’ll be expensive though.”

  “Set it up. Our client can afford it.

  “Honestly, John, you surprise me sometimes.”

  “God’s mercies are new every morning.”

  Christine smiled at me.

  “Yes, they certainly are. Speaking of which, what is Hafsah doing today?”

  I knew Hafsah was attempting to make contact with a man by the name of Abdul Suliman. He was another of the suspects included in the file Jack had given me. Mr. Suliman owned a machine shop. Hafsah was going to approach him pretending to be an interior designer. She would ask him if he would be able to convert several large ceramic vases and some oddly shap
ed copper vessels into table lamps. In the process, she hoped to have a look at his shop and whoever might be there.

  I also knew Christine didn’t want to know about these things.

  “What does Ms. Bashir have to do with God’s mercies?” I asked her.

  “If sending that woman into your life is not an example of God’s mercy…”

  I saw the humor in her comment, but I also saw the truth of it. I was stunned.

  “I think Hafsah was planning to do some shopping today.” I said, as I headed for my office. “Let me know how the audition idea progresses.”

  Christine wasn’t having it. She followed me into my office.

  “John, I’m sorry. I was just kidding. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  I sat down at my desk.

  “You didn’t hurt my feelings, Christine. You actually just helped me realize how true your statement is.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a good looking, eligible bachelor. Any single lady would be proud to have you taking an interest in her. Remember, I’ve seen women practically throwing themselves at you.”

  There was so much Christine didn’t know about me. She didn’t know my service on earth as a Shepherd had made it …impractical, for me to have a wife and family. My appointment as an ambassador of heaven had provided me with certain special gifts and abilities, but my mission had also prevented me from experiencing some of the comforts and joys ordinary men might appreciate.

  Now things had changed. I was certain God had sent Hafsah in to my life. What did this mean? Why now, after all these years? Did this mean an end to my mission on earth? If not, was I completely wrong in my attraction and emotional response to Hahsah? Had I succumbed to the weakness of the flesh, and been overwhelmed by earthly temptation?

  Maybe I was over analyzing the situation. One thing was clear. I’d never been so unsure of what I should do at any time in all the decades since I’d become a Shepherd.

  I was shaken by this revelation.

  “Sometime, I’ll discuss the matter with you in more detail. Don’t worry I saw the humor in your comment. Right now, I’m OK. I just have a lot on my mind. I need to be working.”