As we discussed it, we agreed the only thing we actually knew or could tell the authorities was who and what we suspected. We had the names of some people we suspected. It was information the feds already had. In fact, we got our information from the DHS through Jack. The various federal agencies probably had more information than we did. We’d no idea where any of the suspects were, or if they were even actually involved in this diabolical nightmare. Mossad made it very clear any information provided to the federal authorities was to come from Israel through diplomatic channels, and not from any of us. Evidently, they assumed I was somehow answerable to Mossad.
As the afternoon wore on, it became apparent there were multiple fatalities and countless wounded. We learned both hospitals had been overwhelmed with wounded, many of whom were flown to Dallas.
There were several dozen police officers on the scene from several different agencies. As the lead investigator and the senior officer of the Robbery/Homicide division of the Tyler police department, Tony would be coordinating all of the various departments and agencies involved. A tactical team would have to be sent into the mall. Every nook and cranny had to be searched for the gunmen, the dead and wounded, and those who had hidden themselves from the gunmen. This seemed to take hours. Eventually it was reported the mall was secured.
The news media became inundated with new information, rumors and witnesses. They reported there were at least three gunmen who opened fire inside the mall as they raced from one end to the other. A general panic ensued as people tried to run away or hide. It was possible there had been armed citizens in the mall exchanging gunfire with the shooters. Consequently, there were widely varied descriptions of the number of shooters and what they looked like. From the wide-ranging descriptions, about all that could be learned was that the witnesses seemed to agree the gunmen had been males of medium height, wearing dark colored pants and a variety of outerwear. They wore ski masks, so no one saw their faces. The entire shooting rampage had lasted less than four minutes from the time the first shots were fired. Most of the casualties had occurred at the south end of the mall, where the shooting started. As they ran north, the gunmen hadn’t taken the time to enter any of the stores, only firing into them when they saw targets as they ran past. They shot anyone they encountered in the central walkway or attempting to escape into the stores. It was already estimated that hundreds of rounds had been fired. The mall was a disaster area. Several witnesses reported hearing the men screaming “Allahu Akbar” as they sprayed the mall with gunfire. The gunmen had escaped and were at large.
The city was in shock.
The investigation of the shooting itself would go on for days. Every frame of video from the security cameras would be enhanced and analyzed. All cell phone images that might have recorded anything useful would undergo the same scrutiny. Every inch of the interior of the mall would be examined for evidence. Each shell casing would be collected and analyzed. All shots fired and bullet trajectories would be recreated. Every person in the mall that day and witnesses outside would undergo skilled interrogation, including those victims who survived. The entire event would be re-enacted moment by moment, shot by shot.
A simultaneous investigation to identify and find the shooters would take an unknown amount of time. Time the shooters would use to their advantage, time to disappear, time to prepare the next attack.
The clock was ticking.
It was a mercy the shooting had happened on a Sunday after noon. Had it been a Saturday or during a holiday shopping season, the death toll would have been much higher.
I was reminded of the purpose of this terrorist act. Terror was the goal. The number of people killed or wounded was not the goal. Killing was simply necessary to terrorize the population. Terrorizing the entire region had been achieved with a little over three minutes of gunfire, on a Sunday afternoon. This was just the first act of many to follow and other jihadists were out there somewhere, watching and planning their own assaults in their own regions of the country.
If we didn’t stop it here, we wouldn’t stop it anywhere.
By suppertime, we learned that among the dead were two Tyler police officers who had been on duty at the sub-station. An off duty cop had been killed outside the Victoria’s Secret shop. A security guard, three children and more than a dozen other people had been shot to death. There would be others who would die in hospital. From previous experience we knew that eventually the whole world would learn the names and stories of each person who’d fallen.
Somewhere near the center of all that havoc was a man with credentials that said United States Department of Homeland Security. Jack had his hands full now.
If only I could trust him.
Based on witness statements and video imagery, the public was told to be on the lookout for a silver colored or possibly grey, Toyota minivan of indeterminate age, a blue Chevrolet sedan, a white SUV, A white, four door Dodge pickup, etc. No license numbers were given. It was clear the police didn’t know for sure what the escaped gunmen may have been driving. At any given time on a typical Sunday afternoon, a dozen or more different vehicles could be leaving the mall, any of which could’ve held one or all of the gunmen. The shooting prompted a mass exodus form the parking lots surrounding the mall. Witness accounts were conflicting and generally unreliable. Eventually it would be narrowed down and more clearly stated. Eventually would be far too late. The escape vehicles would be found abandoned and burned. The gunmen would have disappeared out in the piney woods somewhere, into the secure hideout previously prepared. Maybe even the very place Nat Baha had been living and training the gunmen since he arrived in East Texas.
We all understood there was very little chance we would ever see any of the gunmen until they struck again.
Only one hope remained. It was the thinnest of possibilities.
Would Nat Baha and the Honky Tonk Broncs band take the bait and show up at the recording studio?
Could he be that egotistical?
42
As usual, things had not gone exactly as planned.
Driving the stolen minivan, Nat Baha dropped the three men off at the south end of the mall. He drove around to the north end and parked. Leaving the engine running he checked his watch. It had taken him nearly two and a half minutes to drive the distance. That left about two minutes for the men to emerge from Penny’s and jump into the minivan. He rolled down the windows and immediately heard the sounds of muffled gunfire.
In front of him people began running out of the store, a woman could be heard screaming. He saw people running out into the car park area on the east side of the mall. From where he was parked he couldn’t see anything on the west side, but he figured it would be the same way, panic and chaos, as people fled for their lives.
He checked his watch again. One minute to go. Just then he saw Jahander Khalid stumble out of Penny’s. He was clearly wounded, perhaps badly so. A second later, Aaron Parviz limped out. It was evident he was wounded as well. Abdul Suliman backed out the doors, spraying bullets back into the building. He spun around and helped Aaron Parviz catch Khalid as he fell.
Gunning the engine Baha brought the car up in front of the men. Suliman opened the sliding door and shoved Khalid onto the floor board. Parviz clamored painfully inside. Suliman leapt in and slid the door closed as Nat Baha pulled away from the front of the store.
There were already other cars trying to leave the parking lot. More people were running through the lot trying to get to their cars. The terror and panic spreading outward from the mall in waves. Baha pulled in behind a couple of vehicles and prayed for them to get out of the way.
“What happened? Is Khalid alright?”
“Shit! It all went to shit.” Suliman said, trying to help Khalid. “It started exactly as we planned. We shot a bunch of people on the south side, and kept moving north. We shot cops and civilians alike. They were like sitting ducks. By the time we got to the central courtyard, some people were already escaping through the front ent
rance. We let them go and continued north past all those little kiosks, firing into the stores. That’s where we ran into trouble. By then some armed men had found cover and opened up on us as we went past them. We had to make a running fight. We took out more people… Shit! He’s dead. I think Khalid’s dead, man.” He tore off his ski mask.
“Calm down.” Nat Baha said, focused on getting on the road, he made a right turn out onto South Broadway. “Aaron, how badly are you injured?”
“I don’t know. I think I’ll be OK. I took one in the leg and another through my side. I’m just afraid I’ll bleed to death. Is Jahander really dead?”
Cars were now streaming out of all the parking lots. Sirens could be heard coming from every direction.
“Our brother has given his life in the cause of jihad. His place in Paradise is assured. Allahu Akbar! You have all performed well, Aaron. You have proven yourselves warriors of Islam.”
Suliman turned his attentions to Aaron’s injuries. “You’ll be OK. The leg wound still has a bullet in it. It’s not bleeding too badly. The wound in your side missed anything vital, but it’s a bleeder. I need to get some pressure on the exit wound. This is going to hurt.”
After about ten minutes of crawling along with the traffic headed south on Broadway, it began to flow more normally. Five minutes later they were headed out into the country side. They had seen a lot of emergency vehicles headed for the mall, but none had shown any interest in them.
Nat Baha pulled into a church parking lot where a four- door pickup was parked. Sam Jones and Mohammad Hussien were waiting for them in the stolen vehicle. The two men helped move Aaron into the backseat of the pickup while Nat Baha shifted the assault rifles to the bed of the truck. He took a five-gallon container of a diesel and gasoline mixture from the truck and poured most of it over Jahander Khalid’s body inside the minivan. He splashed the rest around liberally inside the vehicle, saving only enough to make a long trailing puddle away from the minivan. Lighting the puddle, he jumped into the pickup as it drove away. Seconds later the minivan erupted in a ball of flames.
43
“It’s not too late for him. He can still repent and choose redemption.” I said.
Hafsah and I were sitting in her hotel room discussing the possibilities for the next day.
“My cousin is a murderer of the innocent. Their blood is on his hands. He is not fit to live.” Hafsah replied.
“I agree, Hafsah. The thing is, you and I are not innocent of bloodshed either. We’ve done things for which we can be neither proud or happy. We may not be murderers, but Jesus said whatever a person thinks and feels in his heart, is the sin of which he’s guilty. Hate, lust, envy, murder, we have done all these sins in our hearts and minds. Even if we haven’t committed the act, we are guilty of the attitude. God is rich in mercy. He has extended His mercy toward us ‘in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’ I know it doesn’t seem fair, but if your cousin will repent and call upon the name of the Lord, he can be saved.”
“Where is the justice in that?” She asked.
“God is the Judge, Hafsah. He sets the rules and determines the final judgment. His justice does not negate His mercy, nor does His mercy negate His justice. There are consequences for the choices and actions we make and those your cousin has made. We all have to deal with those consequences. He will have to face those consequences, but his ultimate fate rests with God.”
“I will not hesitate to kill him.”
“If he must be killed to stop him from doing further harm, neither will I. But you must understand, I can’t kill him if there is any chance, he will repent.”
“If you hesitate, he will kill you.”
“We’ve talked about this. My fate, like his, rests in the hands of God. I desire mercy for him, but I’m prepared to do justice. I must ask the same of you.”
“Inch’ Allah.” Hafsah replied.
“Yes, if it is God’s will. Will you pray with me about that?”
She nodded her head in silent agreement.
Later, as I was driving home, I considered what God might be doing in my life. Sometimes, He speaks so clearly, I know exactly what I must do. Often, trying to see His plan is like to trying to follow a trail of breadcrumbs in a snowstorm. The trail is there, but it is not easy to follow and any distraction can throw you off. The good news is that eventually the snow will melt and the trail will be more clearly seen. Sometimes it requires waiting for the weather to improve, even while we want to push on faster. Some start on the trail but give up when the going gets hard. Others wander around, going down whatever path they happen to find, hoping to stumble back on the correct trail at some later time. Only the person who has chosen to follow the appointed trail and stays committed to the journey will arrive at the intended destination. I’ve made my share of mistakes, following the wrong trails.
On this occasion, my relationship with Hafsah could alter the entire course of my mission on this planet. I couldn’t afford to misinterpret the message. I was starting to have difficulty imagining my life without Hafsah by my side. Could that be the plan? Why would God put her in my life, only to take her away again?
Hafsah would be leaving soon. If we were able to capture or kill Nat Baha and his band of butchers, her assignment would be over. If we failed and they escaped, her assignment would take her somewhere else.
I didn’t want her to ever go away. I was struggling with that knowledge. What did it mean? What could I do about it? Could I ask her to stay? If I did ask her, would she stay? Could she?
I would have to play the hand I was dealt.
The first order of business was setting the trap for Nat Baha. The plan was to capture him and whoever was with him, when and if they showed up at the studio the next morning.
The studio was an ideal place to trap the killers. We’d determined there was only the main entrance and a single back door as routes of ingress and egress. Off the back hallway there was an office room with windows down one side and two restrooms with high narrow windows. The only other exterior windows in the building were the big picture windows that flanked the front doors. Most of the building was dedicated to recording and there were no exterior windows in those areas. The primary recording studio are had no exterior windows and it was sound proof.
We’d enough manpower to cover all avenues of escape. Once the band entered the recording area, it would be easy to prevent them from leaving, at least leaving alive.
Christine and Anke would welcome them to the studio, and once the band was inside, they would guard the doorway to the front exit of the building, with weapons ready. Benjamin and David would be in the control room overlooking the recording studio. From there they could guard the hallway leading to the back door. That left Hafsah and me to confront Baha and the band in the recording studio proper. Surrounded, outnumbered and out gunned, Baha and his band would have to surrender. If it became a gunfight, Christine, Anke, Benjamin and David could catch them in crossfire from the doorways.
This was as good a plan as we could hope for. We would have them in a time and place of our choosing. A place where there would be no innocent bystanders endangered. A place designed to contain noise. Even fully automatic gunfire would not be heard outside the building.
It was the best we could do and it was out of our hands. Nat Baha and the boys would show up, or they wouldn’t.
As the six of us had discussed the matter, we were generally agreed it would be highly unlikely the terrorists would abandon their hidey hole and venture back into Tyler. On the other hand, there was just the slightest chance they would think they had gotten away clean and no one suspected them.
It all came down to what Nat Baha believed. If he believed it was safe, he was pretty committed to getting a demo record cut, he might take the risk. If he believed it wasn’t safe, he would have already headed for greener pastures, leaving the loca
ls to take their chances in additional future raids.
I’d an idea forming at the back of my mind.
Daylight would reveal all.
44
In the darkness Nat Baha walked around the safe house with only his thoughts for company. He and the others had spent the last hours of daylight patching up Aaron Parviz and discussing the attack, as they watched the local news coverage on an old boxy television. While cleaning their weapons, they had discussed what might happen next. His little band of musicians and fighters were all asleep now. He’d chosen to take the first watch.
The mission had been a success. He and his mujahidin had brought the city to its knees. The entire world was learning what they had done. He’d advanced jihad on America, and he’d lost only one man in this first strike. Fortunately it was not one of the musicians. The television coverage suggested the government and police agencies had no idea who had committed the raid. In a day or two, he would declare victory on behalf of the Islamic State.
As he walked, he was considering his options. Initially, the plan was to hide out at the training camp until it was time to strike again. Recent events had altered that plan. The game warden stumbling on the property had been unexpected, but not unanticipated. Over the years, the angel had taught him to prepare for any eventuality. As soon as he arrived in this horribly humid place, he’d put the locals to work finding suitable back up facilities and other secure locations. This modular house on five acres surrounded by dense forest was one of them.
It was so easy to do in America. No one cared who rented their property, as long as they weren’t too seedy looking and had the required deposit. People didn’t pay much attention to their neighbors. This was even more convenient in the deep woods. America truly was a land of liberty, including incredibly trouble-free traveling without any restriction. Transportation was abundant and the roads were excellent.
The Ticking Clock Page 17
