by Gavin Reese
Having finished the preliminary assembly of the last IED only hours beforehand, Duke’s irritability and anxiety grew with each additional minute he had to suffer inside the recently purchased Alero. As the cruise control maintained its exact, programmed speed, Duke’s mind wandered and examined his surroundings, rather than intently focusing on avoiding a traffic stop. He watched the ever-present heat waves ripple up from the ground ahead of him and impede his long-distance vision. The Oldsmobile’s air conditioning had proved itself incapable of keeping the Alero’s cabin cool and comfortable; it could, at best, only make the interior environment less inhospitable than the late summer temperatures outside, which the car’s digital thermostat proclaimed to be 117 degrees. Duke felt grateful at least some of those normally commuting around the metro area had heeded the excessive heat warning and stayed home under their own air conditioners. It’s a double-edged sword, he thought, the heat reduced my risk of a traffic accident and delays, but has become pretty goddamned unbearable considering the physical nature of today’s business.
Duke planned to use a slightly different route on each of his four round trips that day, and each route included a brief, preplanned stop while en route to American Bank Tower. He’d picked a convenience store with alley access on each route that allowed him a few moments of isolated privacy to don a brown mullet wig, which he hoped both protected his identity and assigned blame to a specific, easy mark: Joe “Rocky” Degliani. While investigators reviewed hours of American Bank Tower surveillance footage after the planned bombing, he intended to lead them to initially identify the white male who made suspicious, repeated trips to the 23rd floor during the twenty-four hours preceding the attack as “Rocky,” and waste critical hours interrogating him while Duke safely fled the state.
Duke activated his right blinker for the first time since he entered the freeway, merged right into the exit-only lane for 7th Street, and cautiously slowed the Alero well in advance of any potential contact with the surrounding vehicles and environment. Amazing how much more cautious you are while driving around with I-E-Ds in the car. At the top of the ramp, the traffic light turned green and soon allowed Duke to follow a half-dozen vehicles south onto 7th Street. He quickly made another right turn into the convenience store parking lot, drove into its back alley, and expertly donned his wig without even stopping the car. In less than twenty seconds, Duke piloted the Alero back out onto 7th Street, once again en route to his objective. Sweat began accumulating under the wig almost immediately, and Duke thought about the hundreds of floors he still had to climb and descend before the day ended. This rug’s gonna be a goddamned wet mop by the end of the day. Maybe I could at least take the elevators down to save time. Lots of risk in having someone question me, though. No one takes the stairs anymore, they’re basically abandoned, and so much safer. Gotta make up minutes somewhere.
Despite his access to the freight and construction elevators at American Bank Tower, Duke felt he assumed too much risk in trying to move all the devices in together. Between the risks of early, accidental detonation, he believed the opportunity for a single person to interfere with the operation rose exponentially. His chosen path of least perceived resistance allowed him to transport only two ANFO-filled IEDs at a time in the large backpack, which meant a total of five round trips. That’s it, I can push the last delivery until I come back tomorrow morning. Goddamned brilliant.
As he drew near American Bank Tower and parked on a block he knew had no reliable surveillance cameras, Duke thought about how fortunate today had turned out to be for him. The only security guard he deemed a threat, Tom, the maniacal, brainwashed Marine, had called off sick; none of the other security employees even counted as a competent adversary. Duke felt no threat that their patrols might reveal his presence there tonight, or risk discovery of his IEDs. If Tom had been here, I’d have to come up with more creative ways to do all of this so far in advance of tomorrow’s national reformation. Whoever said one man can’t make a difference never met me.
Duke used his security company keyring to open an exterior, ground floor stairwell access on the northeast side of American Bank Tower and begrudgingly began climbing the stairs. For the second time today. Only 45 flights to go. Small price to pay for one man to effect global change of his own design. As he climbed, Duke scrolled through his mental checklist to review the last necessary steps required of him during these final twenty hours of this operational phase. I still have to gather my clothes and disguises for tomorrow, get the cash hidden in that rented storage unit, gas up both cars, what else? I know I’m missing something…oh, goddamn, that’s right! I need to make one final trip to the library. Gotta leave the biggest and sweetest bread crumbs for the stupid fuckin’ feds tonight. Duke smiled and thought about that particular task. If they have any doubts that Abba Dabba set this whole thing up, everything tonight will take care of that. Duke briefly paused at the 15th floor landing. He wanted to shout with joy about what the next twenty-four hours meant, but decided to maintain his discipline until he returned to the privacy of a closed vehicle.
Tomorrow was going to be a big day, in fact, a brand new day for a brand new America.
Sixty-Seven
Ocotillo Library & Workforce Literacy Center. Phoenix, Arizona.
Immediately after leaving American Bank Tower for the fourth time that day, and with less than fifteen hours until his planned detonation, Duke drove the Alero to the Ocotillo branch of the Phoenix Public Library. He purposefully strode through the right side of the Ocotillo public library’s double glass doors just as a City of Phoenix librarian locked the interior push-latch handle of the left door beside him. Despite fifteen minutes remaining for service inside the library, Duke knew the employees locked the front doors early to limit further ingress that invariably delayed the library's actual closing. He felt initially dismayed that the main entry area and computers were much busier than normal, but then realized he had never been at the branch that late in the day. Walking straight toward his preferred computer terminal bank, Duke soon realized only two computer terminals remained open, and neither of them allowed him the absolute privacy he sought. The closest available terminal would have allowed anyone walking on the main aisle to look over his shoulder, so Duke chose the one farther from the main walkways and with only limited access for someone to see what he typed. It'll have to do, there's no time for any other option.
Impatient and feeling the stress of falling further behind schedule on one of the most critical days of his life, Duke logged into the terminal’s generic public profile. Come on, come on, he wanted to yell, I had to get the slowest fuckin’ one here! And the previous asshole had to shut down instead of just logging off! Fuck!!
As the computer finally loaded the desktop and began responding to his input, Duke retrieved a folded piece of paper from his left cargo pocket that contained his intended posts and usernames. He saw no reason to take time and effort for further creativity, particularly at this late hour. As such, he had printed a few of his previous jihadi posts and wished, simply, to recycle them. Although, he thought and smiled, this is sure to get a much more enthusiastic reaction. Rather than logging into the open Islamic and jihadi forums, as he had previously done, Duke visited his favorite anonymous white supremacist site, the White Pages.
Duke smirked as he created the first username. No fuckin' way these are taken, I won't have to add extra numbers or anything. Immediately after creating the first username, AmericanJihad911, he started a new thread and stumbled briefly, as he sat at the keyboard unsure of what to identify as the thread's subject. Why get fancy, he thought, I'm running out of time. After typing the subject, "Imminent Death in America! Allah ahkbar!", Duke pressed Enter and the site created the thread and awaited his first question or statement. Pressing the folded paper a bit flatter to make it easier to read and transcribe, Duke looked at the upper right corner and saw 156 active users logged in at that time. Sorry, brothers, you're about to lose your minds, but I
need your help to point the American people in the right direction. I just hope the site admins don't kill this thread before it becomes useful.
After entering the first statement, “Falling towers 2 beautiful 2 b forgotten. We WILL see such beauty again soon!”, Duke hit the Enter key and anxiously waited for his anonymous brethren to respond to the provocation. Come on, come on, don't let me down now. Ten seconds passed, then fifteen. He imagined that many of the 156 users were simultaneously uttering something akin to “What the fuck?!” at that very moment. Nearly thirty seconds elapsed before anyone responded to the thread, the first of which user KintuckyWindage posted.
bing
Duke wanted to laugh aloud as he read the response: "FUCK YOU sand nigger GOATFUCK! You better not evr come dwn my holler er your gonna b deadr n a fuckin doornale!!!!" Duke began typing a public reply, and saw three, five, then ten other responses to the thread before he could even complete his first reply. Thank you, brothers, he thought, it's gonna work beautifully! The repeated audible post notifications caught the attention of a woman using an adjacent computer, and Duke saw the recurring electronic chime clearly disturbed her. He returned her annoyed glare and maintained eye contact until she looked away; only then did he return to his work.
Quickly reviewing the responses, another caught his eye, in which user AyZeeHillBillee took his turn to threaten AmericanJihad911: “I’ll treat you like you treat us Infidels, by raping your dirty wives before I murder your family in front of your eyes!!” Duke decided to make a few posts that personally threatened a few respondents to ensure they stayed engaged. I’ll go back to the scripted posts in a minute, Duke rationalized, it shouldn’t take much to whip them into a frenzy.
"No, KintuckyWindage, you stay in holler and keep fucking your dirty pig INFIDEL daughters!! Inshallah, If you come to my village, I will gut you like a fish and praise Allah for your spilled blood!!!"
“No, AyZeeHillBillee, I will assrape your wife! Your filthy pig daughter will suffocate on my bloody cock! Then, I will remove your eyes with a spoon and let you live with those images for the rest of your short life! Allah commands retribution on the Infidels, and I pray to soon dull my blade by beheading all of you!”
In less than two minutes of posting the thread and his original statement, Duke saw more than fifty responses, all of them filled with hate and vitriol, and most of them begging the anonymous jihadist for a face-to-face meet. Sudden, unexpected movement from his left caught Duke’s eye.
A tall white male, whom Duke estimated to be about thirty and, based on his movement and body mechanics, capable of handling himself, had leapt up from a computer terminal and seemed clearly enraged. Duke scanned the area around them, saw nothing of concern, and wondered to what the man had reacted. Wait…that’s gotta be a coincidence. The man quickly dropped back into the computer chair and began furiously typing, the keystrokes audible as Duke sat almost fifteen feet away.
bing
Duke looked at his monitor and saw AyZeeHillBillee had sent him a personal message. He opened the electronic note and read the response: “Don’t think you can scare me, sand nigger, you don’t get to threaten my family in public and talk about my women like that. There’s justice comin to you, and I’m gonna make sure it comes swift. Keep my family outta your rants, terrorist. I aint scared of you and neithers anyone else!! You’re a dead man walking!!”
Duke immediately knew he could further rile the man and his cohorts by disrespecting the man’s family and his private demand to leave his family alone. He copied the private message and posted it as a public response in the original thread, and then added further insult: “AyZeeHillBillee, your familys demise will be live on youtube, so this public thread is nothing! The whole unbelieving Infidel world will witness Allah’s glory when I slowly behead yoru wife and skullfuck your daughter!! Allah ahkbar!!!”
Duke struck the Enter key, looked to the angry white man seated nearby, and waited. Only a few seconds passed before he again jumped up, this time knocking his chair over backwards in doing so.
“RRRRrrrrr!” Duke watched the man slightly hunch over at his waist, clench his fists, and bend his arms in front of his chest while growling through gritted teeth. He desperately wanted to laugh at the man, at how easily he had manipulated him, and at how perfect his plan had been to enlist men like this to lay blame on foreign terrorists. Until the man glanced up and made eye contact with Duke, he hadn’t realized how broadly he had been smiling and unabashedly staring at the accosted man.
Thankfully, the man looked around at the other nearby library patrons and saw many of them watching him as well, with reactions that varied from laughter to fright. The man wilted before the concerned stares, slowly righted his fallen chair, and sat back down in front of his terminal. Duke again recognized anger on the man’s face as his attention returned to the monitor’s display, and he almost immediately resumed intense, audible keystrokes.
bing
Duke looked to his monitor and saw AyZeeHillBillee had already replied: “You better hope the feds find you first. Gitmo wil be a vacation compared to what im gonna do to you.” As he began typing a response, Duke decided he no longer had time to engage in this back-and-forth. I can't wait any longer, he thought, I have to get the important part out before any site admins kill the thread. The site’s administrators would certainly remove this thread as soon as they discovered it, and he still wanted to get his previous postings into the thread to ensure the FBI would connect this thread with the same postings on the jihadi sites. Typing quickly while ignoring the now incessant bings that indicated new responses to the thread, Duke transcribed additional posts in the main thread body.
“Mujahid’s Notes, Age of the Arizona Assassins. Hidden bomb check car bomb check pressure cooker pending no longer. Allah ahkbar”
“Whoever intends Lone Jihad faces a fearful mountain of ice before him. Fear not, ur burning truthful resolute destroys such ice”
“Americas defeat+Da’Awah+defense=establish Khilafa”
Reading carefully from the folded paper and desperate to ensure his most critical statement got onto The White Pages servers, Duke quickly transcribed the final statement he wrote several days ago, back when he’d had time to think about such details:
"Inshallah, you will ALL witness the power and glory of Allah and his prophet Mohammed. Before tomorrow's sun sets, every INFIDEL and AMERICAN ABOMINATION will know and fear the consequences of further insult to ISLAM and interference in Muslim affairs. You will all soon see that 9-11 was a prelude to the coming WAR on your soil, and AMERICAN efforts to supplant a righteous caliphate will end!! By tomorrow night, you will all fear the explosive power of Inspired Jihad! There is no place you are safe from us! Not at work, not at home, not at school, not in Phoenix...or San Diego...or Seattle...or Las Vegas...or Los Angeles...or San Francisco. By tomorrow’s sunset, you'll be begging for Sharia or death! We're happy to give you either, there is no other choice! Submit to Allah or die a pig INFIDEL's death!!"
Duke’s ominous threat of immediate terrorist action had its desired effect; he could no longer keep up with the new responses to his posts, and the woman seated next to him left in disgust as she could apparently no longer tolerate the constant audible barrage emanating from his terminal. He hoped the thread would contain enough keywords that Big Brother would soon find it on their own, maybe even within the next few hours. Even if that failed, Duke felt certain he could count on his brethren to call the feds and local cops as soon as the bombs detonated tomorrow morning. If they have an ounce of red American blood flowing in their veins, they're gonna wanna make sure the cops know who to go after. He hoped they would also start spreading the word through their organizations, maybe even the media, if the feds or the White House tried to say anything, or anyone, other than Islamic terrorists are again responsible for attacking American civilians. Don't let me down, this is one of the most important parts of my entire operation. Duke would have been happy to have
one of The Chosen Few report these posts, just to ensure they became public, but that would require admitting their beliefs and plausibly denying any other criminal activity. Whoever did make this public would certainly face their own scrutiny from the feds and those faggot Jews from Southern Poverty Law Center.
Ksshhk "Thank you for visiting the Ocotillo Branch of the Phoenix Public Library and Workforce Literacy Center today." Duke had never heard the library's public address system before, and slight panic set in. What if the cops are onto me, and they're gonna try to evacuate the building and flush me out?! "The library will be closing in five minutes. Please make your final selections and proceed to the registers or check-out desk. Thank you for your patronage and cooperation." Checking his watch, a wave of relief washed over Duke and he chuckled at his growing, but not unrealistic, paranoia.
Returning his focus to the site and his chat thread, he reviewed his efforts one final time. Deciding he had successfully gained 156 new, unwitting conspirators who would take action against AmericanJihad911 the following day, Duke logged off the terminal. He knew his sympathizers would most likely call their local Sheriff’s Office, rather than the municipal police, which only further worked in his favor. Unlike city police chiefs, whom he knew to be beholden to their mayor’s office and, too often it seemed, liberal national political figures, county sheriffs were beholden only to the public they directly served. They’ll tell it straight, Duke thought, they won’t be afraid to say things like ‘radical Islamic terrorists’ when they informed the news media who was responsible for the latest and most devastating terrorism on American soil. Duke surmised that his kindred spirits, many of whom had likely swore an oath to an organization similar to The Chosen Few, would certainly be willing to go directly to the media in the event that the cops and FBI refused to actually name Muslim terrorists as the initial suspects in these investigations.
