Wrong Town: A Mark Landry Novel

by Miller, Randall H

  “The Islamic State is taking credit, but we haven’t corroborated their claim, and it wouldn’t be the first time they tried to piggyback off an attack they had nothing to do with. JTTF says a bomb went off followed by at least three gunmen with AK-47s, but they haven’t ruled out the possibility that more people were involved. Thanks to your lead about the men in the truck, they checked out the public works area and found one of their drivers in a dumpster, strangled.”

  “They weren’t AKs, Doc. But I imagine some of the people giving the briefings don’t know the difference anyway. What else?”

  “All three gunmen have supposedly been preliminarily identified, but their identities won’t be released until the forensic and biometric evidence has been verified and investigators seize any assets and property. Identification was quick because all three already had prints or DNA in the national database. Two of the three had violent criminal records, and the other had managed to serve in the Air Force for about two weeks before being chaptered out for mental illness. What’s interesting is they’re all from different places: one from Massachusetts, one from New Hampshire, and one from Connecticut. It’s unclear whether they knew each other beforehand and planned this together or if they are just three lone wolves put together by a facilitator. ATF has the weapons and is trying to trace them. FBI has the surveillance tapes from the hospital bombing, but I heard something about the blast coming from a blind spot in the corner of the ER. The rest is still unfolding. Me, Max, and Billy need to get to Washington ASAP. Our analysts say there’s been lots of chatter about targeted assassinations, and Dunbar wants us around just in case we get actionable intelligence.”

  “Sounds like business as usual.”

  “Not exactly. Our top analyst says the typical chatter recently turned into a full-throated scream. Regardless, I need you to stay put for a while, okay?”

  “Got it.”

  “Mark, things are changing pretty rapidly in our world and it wasn’t as easy to extract you from this situation as it would have been in the past. There are a lot more moving parts these days. At one point I was doubtful we’d be able to do it at all.”

  “I understand that, Doc. And I appreciate the risk you took by coming to get me personally. How can I repay the favor?” he asked.

  “All I want you to do right now is sit tight where you are until I’m convinced you’re out of the woods. Once you are, I’ll send Sadie over to give you a lift home. If you want to return the favor, there is something you can do for me once you get home.”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  There was a brief pause on the line as Doc cleared his throat before speaking. “Start planning the next phase of your life, Mark. I already told you I think you’re making the right choice by getting out now. The Family’s days are numbered, and I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire if things get as ugly as I think they might. Get out and start the family you said you wanted. Then be there for them.”

  Mark had never heard Doc sound so despondent and was briefly taken aback by his remarks.

  “I will,” he answered.

  “Good. We’ll meet up in D.C. in a week or two to formalize your retirement. Until then, stay safe and keep a low profile.”

  One hundred six

  “Give me your phone,” Amir demanded.

  “Why do you want to see my phone? I told you I haven’t had any contact with anybody since you left the cabin.”

  “Do not question me!” screamed Amir as he stepped forward and struck Yasir on the side of his face with an open hand. The young man’s knees buckled and he fell to the hardwood floor with a thud. Amir pulled the cell phone from Yasir’s back pocket and scrolled through the call and text history. Satisfied, he tossed the phone onto the kitchen counter. “Get up.”

  Yasir scrambled to his knees and held his hands up in front of him. “Please, I am telling you the truth!” he pleaded.

  Amir grabbed a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator, entered the main room of Ghassan’s cabin, and sat in the big leather chair facing the television.

  “Get in here,” he commanded.

  Yasir struggled to his feet and scurried to a seat on the sofa against the far wall.

  “I did not tell you to sit down! Stand in front of the fireplace and face me!”

  The blond terrorist took a long, slow sip of water and cleared his throat.

  “Have you left the cabin today?”

  “No. Not since returning from the rest area this morning. When the girl left the car and entered the building, I put the backpack on the floor in front of the passenger seat, just as you instructed.”

  “Has anybody else been here since you returned? Neighbors? Friends? Deliveries? Anything?”

  “No, I swear it! I have had no contact with anybody. I have followed your directions to the word. I have kept up my end of the deal, but I have not received any confirmation that my sisters have been freed. You must have contact with your brothers in Syria. Can you please find out for me?”

  “No,” Amir answered abruptly.

  Yasir breathed deeply and chose his words carefully. He did not want to be beaten again—or worse.

  “Please. I have done everything the Caliphate has asked of me, and more. I have fulfilled my part of the deal. Now I beg of you. Please confirm my sisters have been freed.”

  “Ah, yes. I do remember something about a deal, but I can’t seem to remember the details. Can you refresh my memory, Yasir?” asked Amir with a smile.

  Yasir felt an impending sense of doom. The knot in his stomach started to grow. He began to sweat profusely and struggled to speak.

  “Sir, as you are aware, both of my younger sisters were imprisoned by the Caliphate. In exchange for their freedom, I agreed to provide temporary safe haven for a group of holy warriors while my uncle was away. I have provided that service. I also delivered the backpack as you instructed. I swear to you on my sisters’ souls that I will never speak a word of this to anybody—including them.” He paused to breathe deeply. “Would you please find out if they have been freed?”

  “No.”

  “Sir, I beg of you to find out!”

  “There is no need. I already know the answer. Yasir, you are so stupid I almost feel bad for you,” Amir said with a sarcastic grin.

  “No. No. Please do not say that. We had a deal! We had a deal and I fulfilled my obligations!” Yasir cried out as the tears began to stream down his face. To hide the shame, he turned away and rested his head on the mantle next to the framed picture of Ghassan’s wife. “Where are my sisters? What have you done with my innocent little sisters?” he sobbed.

  Amir spat a mouthful of water onto the floor in disgust and rose to his feet.

  “Look at yourself! What a pathetic excuse for a man,” he scolded. “There was never any deal, Yasir. I have no idea where your sisters are, but I can promise you will never see them again. More than likely they were sold as slaves long ago. Or perhaps they have already outlived their usefulness and have been executed. In which case, may their souls rot in hell.”

  Yasir screamed out in anguish and held his hands over his ears. “No! No! That was not what you promised! I helped you! I helped you kill innocent people in exchange for my sisters’ lives! You will not get away with this!”

  Yasir flung the framed photo of Ghassan’s deceased wife out of the way and grabbed the loaded .357 revolver his uncle kept hidden behind it. He gripped it tightly with his trembling hands and spun around to face his target. Instead, he found himself staring into the barrel of a gun, mere inches from his face.

  Amir quickly squeezed the trigger. The .45 caliber hollow-point bullet pierced the bridge of Yasir’s nose, tore through his brain, and exited through the back of his skull. Blood gushed from the exit wound and his lifeless body fell to the hardwood floor.

  One hundred seven

  “Doc says he’s going to have the intel guys send you some watch list pictures to look at. Maybe the fourth gunman was on the list,
” said Sadie as she backed into the driveway just before sunrise.

  “Good idea. Okay, I’m just going to run in and grab a few things. Then you can drop me at Luci’s. You can wait here, or you’re more than welcome to come in. It’s up to you.”

  “I’ve been stuck inside the JTTF a little too long. I’ll wait out here and get some air. But take this before I forget. Doc asked me to give it to you,” she said.

  “What is it?”

  “Federal law enforcement credentials of some sort. I’m not really sure,” she answered as she exited the vehicle. “I was there when he was working his magic trying to erase you from everyone’s radar. The fact that you lacked a gun permit seemed to bother some folks more than anything else that happened. That’s when he got madder than I’ve ever seen. Heads rolled and he had someone from Justice take care of it.”

  “Ok. Thanks. I’ll be right out.”

  Twenty minutes later, Sadie backed the car into Luci’s driveway. When Mark entered the house, he found Luci sleeping on the sofa in full uniform. She had managed only to kick off her tactical boots before crashing from exhaustion. He had to shake her gently several times before she awoke.

  “Luci? Luci? I’m here. Are you okay? Luci?”

  When she opened her eyes, she wrapped her arms around Mark’s neck and squeezed tightly. “Mark! I’m so happy you’re okay. They wouldn’t tell me a word at the station. Like they had never heard your name. What happened? Where have you been? I want to hear everything you can tell me.”

  “I will. But first, tell me how you’re doing. I’m not surprised you went up there to help. Are you okay?” he asked, gently stroking the side of her face.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m tired as hell but okay.”

  “Get out of that uniform and take a shower while I cook. I imagine you haven’t eaten all day, right?”

  “Not a bite.”

  “We can talk more over breakfast.”

  Mark’s mind was racing as he did his best to prepare a quick meal.

  Who was the man on the roof? Where is he now? Is anyone even looking for him?

  Mark Landry had debriefed enough missions to know how important it was for participants to talk afterwards, so he mostly listened as Luci spoke about the horrors she had seen on the field. He nodded his head and placed his hand on hers as she recounted several races against the clock to stop the bleeding. She had won the race more than she lost, but she seemed to remember the losses in much greater detail.

  “You’re extraordinary. You know that, right? I’m so proud of you, Luci. You showed up. You did your job under the worst of circumstances and you saved a lot of people.”

  “Thankfully, a lot of people really stepped up and helped each other out, especially Andy.”

  Mark put down his fork and straightened up. “Oh my God, Andy. I’ve been so preoccupied thinking about the fourth gunman, I haven’t even stopped to think about him. Tell me what happened. Is he okay?”

  “He will be. Witnesses say he and his star fullback ran through the gunfire and charged one of the shooters. A round caught him somewhere on the edge of his arm, but he just wrapped a t-shirt around it and started helping people. He was still going when I got there. You should have seen him, Mark.”

  “I can only imagine. Thank God for the two of you. Very few people have what it takes to do what you guys did.”

  She wiped the tears from her eyes and forced a smile. “I know, but there’s a part of me that feels a little … guilty. I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s part survivor’s guilt, but there’s something else too.”

  “That’s a very common reaction, Luci. Try not to think too much into it. You’ve seen the absolute worst thing possible today. Our minds don’t know what to do with all that.”

  “When you first got home, we talked a little bit about your experiences. I asked you about combat and you mentioned the same thing, Mark. You said you sometimes felt elation and that it scared you. Well, that didn’t make any sense to me until today, because I felt it too. It was the most horrendous thing I have ever been a part of, and I would have preferred that it had never happened, but I felt a jolt of something I never knew I had in me. I came alive. I felt needed, useful. But that makes me feel awful, because people had to suffer for me to feel it. Is this making any sense?”

  Mark finished the last sip of his coffee, grasped both of Luci’s hands, and leaned forward. “You just said what I’ve been feeling for twenty years but haven’t been able to explain. I understand you perfectly, Luci. And now I finally understand myself. Thank you.”

  Luci’s phone vibrated and he kissed her on the forehead as she read a text message. “Wendy is getting off in an hour or so and is going to crash here for a few hours before we both go back on duty tonight,” she said.

  “Good, I don’t want you to be alone. I slept a few hours at the safe house, so I’m good for now. But I need to go back to the house and grab a bunch of things so I don’t have to keep going back and forth. I also need to do a little bit of work while I’m there. Listen, Wendy definitely did the right thing by making the call for me, but don’t tell her anything else, okay? It’s for her own good.”

  “Got it. Please be safe, Mark. We still don’t know if this whole thing is over yet. There could be more to come when we least expect it.”

  One hundred eight

  Frank Tagala held the blinds of the window open with one hand and held a tall glass of straight vodka with the other. After watching Mark exit the car and enter the house, he chugged the rest of his drink, marched confidently across both lawns, and knocked twice on the side door.

  “Mark, it’s Frank from next door,” he announced.

  “Hi Frank. What’s up?” asked Mark after opening the door.

  “Can I come in? I’d like to talk to you?”

  “I’m pretty busy but, yeah, I have a few minutes. Come on in.”

  Both men walked to the center of the kitchen and looked at each other awkwardly.

  “Listen, I’m sorry to just come by like this, but I was just wondering if you had anything new about yesterday that you could share with me.”

  Mark stuffed his hands in his front pockets and frowned curiously. “Uh, no. Not really. You probably know more than me.”

  Frank scanned the kitchen from left to right and cleared his throat. “Okay, listen. The young broad who dropped you off this morning—I’ve seen her before.”

  “You mean my cousin?”

  “Yeah, your cousin, whatever. Listen, I’ve seen her at the JTTF a lot lately, including yesterday. She’s always with an older guy about my age. The same guy I saw you talking to in Boston a few weeks ago. My guess is you work in the same business. Normally, out of professional courtesy, I wouldn’t ask. But seeing that there was just a terrorist attack a stone’s throw from my house, I’m dispensing with all that bullshit. What can you tell me?”

  Mark slowly paced to the refrigerator. He grabbed two bottles of water, placed one on the counter in front of Frank, and took a long, slow sip from his own. Besides the occasional neighborly wave, the only other interaction he had had with Frank Tagala included a gun. And he could smell the booze from across the kitchen.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Frank. I probably know about as much as you do. Honestly, I don’t think anybody knows very much right now, judging by the news.”

  Frank knew the deal. Landry was rightfully playing it safe. “Were you there when it happened? Were you at the scene?” he asked.

  Mark thought for a moment. “I happened to be running by at the tail end of the attack after the explosion, yes.”

  “And did you see three gunmen open fire on our town with AK47s?”

  “Just like a lot of other people, I saw the gunmen, but they weren’t using AK47s. And that’s all I know about the whole thing. Listen, I hate to be rude, but I have a bunch of work I need to get done. Can we talk some other time?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll get out of your hair. So, how do you know th
ey weren’t using Kalashnikovs?” he asked as both men moved toward the door.

  “Because I saw them. And I know the difference between Kalashnikovs and Sig Sauer rifles.”

  Frank froze in his steps and turned around with a stunned expression.

  “Did you say Sig Sauer?” asked Frank.

  “Yeah.”

  “Everyone else keeps saying AKs and shotguns and all kinds of other shit. This is the first time I’m hearing Sig. How sure are you? Any chance you’re confused?”

  Mark opened the side door and looked directly into Frank’s eyes. “I am one hundred percent sure. And there is zero chance I’m mistaken. I know what they look like. And I know what they feel like. I had one in my hands, Frank. It was a Sig Sauer M400.”

  Frank halted in the door and started thinking out loud. “That’s interesting. AK47s and shotguns are a dime a dozen on the black market. But Sig Sauer rifles are very rare. They’re also next to impossible to sterilize of serial numbers, so we should have tracing information by now. That can be done in just a few hours. I wonder …” Frank turned to face Mark but couldn’t finish his sentence. His face became ashen and he ran his fingers through his thick gray hair.

  “You okay, Frank? You look like you need to sit down.”

  “No, I’m good. Listen, I just realized something. I brought in a bunch of Sig Sauer M400s in a sting just a few weeks ago. But they disappeared from the evidence lockup and I never thought twice about it. Something stinks here, Mark. I’m going to the office and I’m not coming back until I know exactly where they went. And if those guns somehow fell into the wrong hands and ended up being used for this, I’m going to crack some fucking skulls.”

  Mark followed Frank down the steps. “Listen, Frank. I don’t know much about all this stuff, but—”

  Frank waved his hand and cut Mark off in mid-sentence. “Cut the bullshit, kid. Now you’re just insulting my intelligence.”

  “Fine,” said Mark. “Here’s a bit of advice. If you do find anything out, you may want to be very careful who you share that information with at JTTF.”