American Justice

by J K Ellem

  For three years Rasul had toiled in the heat and dust of Syria, time well spent under the tutelage of a master bomb-maker in order to graduate as a master himself. It had always been his dream to one day return to his adopted homeland and rain terror down upon them. And Adam Tanner, his benefactor, had given him that opportunity.

  While he was away learning his lethal skills, his twin brother, Ashidi took his place, assumed his identity, his life, his idiosyncrasies. He lived in his apartment and sought gainful employment at the chosen airport. That way there would be no suspicions, no way to tell that the real Abasi was in Syria learning his deadly trade.

  As Rasul checked and recalibrated the detonation sequence one more time, his thoughts drifted back to his brother.

  “Soon my brother,” Rasul uttered to himself. “Soon we will be reunited.”

  So lost in his work and his thoughts of a beautiful paradise to enjoy arm in arm with his brother, he didn’t notice the ghost loom out of the darkness, a ghost from his past, a ghost who never forgot a face, and a ghost that held a gun now pointed at the base of Rasul’s skull.

  Then the ghost uttered the words, “Not soon enough.”

  Rasul turned and looked into his past.

  “Put it down, Rasul.” Shaw’s words were calm but had a certain menace to them.

  Rasul’s eyes went wide with recognition. “You!” he hissed.

  “Where have you been all these years, Rasul?” Shaw asked, gripping the handgun a little tighter, imagining it was Rasul’s throat.

  Rasul said nothing, just stood and stared at the man from his past, an agent of a government he despised.

  “I didn’t know you had a twin brother, but I’m glad he’s dead,” Shaw said then added, “I just wished I’d killed him myself, knowing what I now know.” Shaw had thought it strange Abasi Rasul had not recognized him in the gas station. The real Abasi Rasul would have. Now Shaw knew the truth.

  “You will never understand,” Rasul hissed.

  “I understand you killed hundreds of innocent people on that plane,” Shaw countered. “But I will never understand why.” Shaw looked at the tablet device in Rasul’s hands. “I said, put that down.”

  Rasul glanced toward the small portable building. It was about a hundred yards away. Guards were milling around there, but he had insisted he be left undisturbed while he checked the bomb. He could call out to them. But Shaw would kill him, an unfitting death at the hands of another oaf. It was an option Rasul found extremely distasteful. His life was precious, and Shaw was not worthy of taking it.

  Shaw watched Rasul’s lips and throat very carefully for that slight inhalation of breath before he’d yell out. “You make so much as a squeak and I’ll make sure you die in shame.”

  Rasul turned back to Shaw, his mind made up. His fate would be of his own choosing, not from the hands of this pig. Soon others like Shaw would be arriving. Good. With an imperceptible stroke of his thumb, Rasul took the first step along the path to paradise to join his brother.

  Carefully, with his eyes still on Shaw, Rasul placed the tablet on the ground and stepped away, raising his hands in the air. It was a gesture he hated. He would never give up the fight. But in sixty seconds he would be with his brother again and that was all that mattered. What had been set in motion could not be reversed.

  There were plenty of other foot soldiers to take up the cause, to tread the dry and dusty path of this world, as he and his brother walked through the lush gardens of paradise, watching down from above while others like Shaw died.

  “You can’t kill me, I’m an American,” Rasul said almost mockingly. Shaw was going to die with him, and that gave Rasul much joy.

  Shaw cocked his head. “You are a mass-murderer, nothing else. A killer of innocents.”

  “I’m an American; I’m entitled to justice, American justice. It says so in the constitution. It is my democratic right, as you say.” The contempt in Rasul’s voice was palpable.

  Shaw glanced down and noticed the tiny clock in the top corner of the screen of the tablet. A clock was counting backwards.

  Thirty seconds.

  “Turn whatever it is off,” Shaw snarled.

  “I can’t.” Rasul smiled. “Like my fate, like your fate, it’s now irreversible.”

  Shaw thought about the innocent women and children on the plane, the plane Rasul had brought down, lives he had ended so brutally and so abruptly. Shaw thought about the precious time Rasul had stolen from the victims and their families, the same families that were now condemned to alifetime of grieving and loss.

  Twenty seconds.

  A red speck settled on the side of the bus. It hovered for a moment before moving toward the back of Shaw’s head.

  “Here is your justice,” Shaw whispered before rapidly emptying the entire magazine of the handgun, all ten rounds, into Rasul’s face. Then he ran.

  The swarm of red dots flew through the cavern, spreading, searching. Six of the red dots broke free from the rest of the flock, stopped in flight, settled for a millisecond on the foreheads of the six men with rifles who were standing near a portable building in the cavern.

  They all died within a second.

  And then it happened and everything else inside the cavern died as well.

  In the aftermath, those who survived, those standing outside the cavern, would describe it as a blinding white light that bleached your memories clean. Not unlike the glare of a nuclear bomb detonating under the earth’s crust, it felt like the explosion had sent a billion holes tearing through the core of the planet, making the world flat, as it was once thought to have been. The reinforced concrete walls of the cavern absorbed the blast, shielding everything beyond. But everything within was obliterated.

  Beth remembered exactly where she was standing, in that exact moment when the planet seemed to get ripped off its axis.

  Miller was standing right next to her, outside the cavern opening, at a safe distance, watching the flock of red dots as they went hunting deep into the cavern.

  Later, Miller could only recall the world in front of him being shredded to pieces and the fact that he’d just lost his Hostage Rescue Team, all of them, gone in a millisecond. Brave men—fathers, brothers, and sons who ran in, with no regard for their own safety, where mere mortals would fear to tread.

  Servare Vitas, To save lives.

  63

  Wherever he touched her, she ached. But she wanted him to touch her more, everywhere, until the pain became unbearable.

  Darkness lingered over them, candlelight flickered off the walls and ceiling, casting a golden hue around the bedroom of Jessie’s apartment, two shadows melding into one.

  She liked the feel of fresh cotton sheets under her, and the sensation of him pressing over her, his body taut, covering her, his chest brushing her nipples, her breasts so swollen she felt like they would burst.

  It was slow; there was no rush.

  For a long time she held him inside her, not moving, just content to be this close to him sharing the same breath, their faces inches apart, their bodies interlocked.

  Jessie said nothing, just a subtle smile on her lips, her thighs and legs wrapped around Shaw, drawing him deeper, not letting him go.

  “You’re blushing again,” she teased.

  “How long are you going to keep me like this,” Shaw asked, a mild look of amusement on his face.

  Jessie gave him a thoughtful look. “Hmm, I’m not sure. I like the feel of you inside me. I don’t want it to end.” Then she felt a tinge of sadness. It would have to end. He was going, leaving her, moving on. She understood. It was just how he was.

  Strangely, it made him even more attractive to her, a scarce resource that would eventually disappear. But until then she wanted him all for herself, for as long as possible. She wanted to freeze this precious moment, to stop time.

  Shaw ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her slowly, carefully, gently, like she was glass.

  The kiss made the ache Jessie f
elt in her loins ripple in waves. There was something respectful, considerate, about how he touched her, moved over her, like she was the only woman in the entire world.

  Jessie moved her hips slightly, digging her heels into the back of his thighs. Enough of staying still, she thought. It’s time to get this thoroughbred galloping. Jessie nudged his flanks, encouraging him. He responded instantly and shifted up several gears.

  Shaw cradled her head, powerful arms cocooning her, and pushed her thighs back, tilting her pelvis up, opening to his thrusts. Steeper, deeper, the downward angle more acute, more abrasive over her sensitive areas.

  Jessie pulled him down, biting his neck, his throat, anything she could sink her teeth into to vanquish the delicious pain. She was melting inside, the lower half of her body dissolving away, turning to liquid, sticky and molten, slick and musky, her own scent flowing and mixing with the smell of sandalwood and apple spice candles.

  Her flame grew into a furnace that tore through her, burning her up. The sheen of her sweat beaded into drops that converged into rivulets down her skin. Her breath shortened, then she came in a screaming wave, every muscle and nerve wrenching apart.

  Grabbing her hair, he pulled her head back then kissed her hard, his teeth gritted against her lips in the pain of his own release.

  Their eyes met through the haze, two bodies contorted in sweet, simultaneous release, a moment frozen in time, a snapshot for her memory that Jessie would never forget.

  Years from now, a much older Jessie, married with a family of her own, would relive this exact moment in her mind for the millionth time, as though it was just yesterday. As a married woman, she would feel no guilt, no shame, just contentment in the warm glow of reliving what once was, with a man she hardly knew, who had done for her what no other had.

  An intimate moment stored in the private recesses of her mind, to be shared with no one but herself when she needed to.

  A moment that would never die.

  Sometime later, Shaw walked alone along the busy streets, his collar turned up against a cool evening breeze, a rucksack over his shoulder.

  The bars and restaurants were filling as people spilled out onto the street, celebrating the start of the weekend. It was good to see so many smiling faces, Shaw thought as he passed them by.

  The bus terminal came into view and he crossed the street. At the ticket kiosk he selected “one-way” then scrolled through a list of destinations, unable to make up his mind. One caught his eye but he dismissed it. Each scroll of his finger took him farther west of here. He paused, thought for a moment, then scrolled back to the destination he had briefly contemplated.

  He gave a shrug of indifference. “What the hell.”

  A young attractive woman lined up behind Shaw, purse in hand, her heeled shoe tapping impatiently on the concrete floor. Her eyes dropped to Shaw’s butt, and her tapping foot stopped. The nice view of his ass provided some consolation for the wait.

  Shaw punched a few more buttons, swiped his card, and moments later a thermal bus ticket curled out of the machine.

  Picking up the ticket, he turned and immediately faced the young woman.

  Their eyes met.

  He smiled apologetically.

  She smiled with curiosity.

  “Ma’am.” Shaw nodded politely then walked away.

  The woman tilted her head and watched the tall handsome stranger leave, biting her lip in silent contemplation. After a moment she turned back to the ticket machine. On the display was the last destination selected.

  The woman smiled. “What the hell,” she said. She had no real travel plans other than getting as far away from this place as possible. She punched a few buttons, grateful there were still a few seats left on the same bus.

  She collected her ticket, turned, and froze.

  A sleek luxury German sedan, with black tinted windows, silver-gray like a shark, glided slowly past the front of the bus terminal. The woman quickly ducked behind a concrete column. With her eyes peeking around the edge of the column she intently watched the sedan, her heart thumping fearfully in her chest.

  The sedan slowed to a crawl, as though it was going to stop, before pulling out into the main flow of traffic again and accelerating away effortlessly with a deep throaty purr.

  Certain that the sedan was gone, the woman emerged from behind the concrete column and followed after the tall handsome stranger at a discrete distance, determined to get the seat next to him.

  64

  The beer was cold, and the music was loud. So they found a quiet table against the window, looking out onto the street, away from the glare of the pool table, and the noise of the band playing Luke Bryan songs, where they could reminisce about some of the pain they had endured, and share some of the good things they had done.

  Ryder placed her crutch in the corner, undid her ponytail, and shook out her hair. It unfurled around her shoulders and for the first time since Beth had set eyes on Ryder, she looked completely different. Maybe it was the relaxed atmosphere.

  Or maybe it was because Adam Tanner was in custody, and they had unearthed the largest terrorist network on American soil, run by a senator of the United States for his own political gain. Tanner’s true ambition was the highest office in the land, and to that end he had formed an alliance with an ISIS Syrian terrorist cell whereby he was given access to any number of young angry men like Abasi Rasul and his brother, all willing to be Tanner’s tools of martyrdom if it meant anarchy and terror on American soil. In return, Tanner promised when he became president, he’d pull all US troops out of the Middle East. But like all politicians, what is promised during an election campaign is seldom delivered once they attain power.

  During the past weeks since the incident, the FBI had also discovered a web of hidden offshore trusts and companies that Tanner controlled. He had significant investments in armament companies all over the world. While he may have promised to scale back America’s commitment overseas, his greed after he ascended to the White House would have made it impossible for him to keep that promise.

  Tanner’s plan involved having the school bus driven down the Las Vegas Strip during a major sporting event, and detonating it. Thousands of people would have been killed.

  The downing of the jetliner, and the now foiled larger terrorist attack using a school bus in Las Vegas, were all part of Tanner’s planned “shock and awe” political campaign. It was meant to shock Americans, and awaken them to the real terror threat that existed right in their own backyard rather than in some distant foreign land. The voters would be in awe of Tanner’s rhetoric about the current president who was weak on the domestic threat front, and who was more concerned about appeasing the Arabs and Israelis, the same president who was spending billions of US dollars fighting multiple wars overseas that most Americans didn’t care for, nor understand.

  Senator Adam Tanner of Utah wasn’t going to the White House. He was going instead to ADX Florence, a supermax prison located in Fremont County, Colorado, where he was destined to spend the rest of this life.

  Ryder and Beth sat for a moment, drinking beer, no words needed, content just to watch as people mingled, laughed, danced, argued, and lived their lives. It had been three weeks since Ryder had been shot. Her wound was healing nicely but she still needed the crutch to get around.

  Beth finally broke the silence. “I’m getting out of Dodge. Moving on.”

  Ryder looked puzzled for a moment then raised her beer bottle as a toast. She understood why. Too many bad memories here now.

  Beth looked around. “I can’t live here anymore. I need a break. Move to another place.”

  “What about Frank?” Ryder asked. Beth had explained the situation, how Frank had gambled away all their life savings, and the life she once had.

  “I told him to man-up, to accept responsibility. He’s going to stay here and get himself sorted out. His sister will move in to help.” Beth needed a fresh start. ”I’m quitting the force, moving back to Florida.”
Beth couldn’t believe those words were coming out of her mouth. But she had changed. All this had affected her. What she had endured over the last few years tracking Pritchard, then confronting him, had an effect on her psychologically.

  “We could use someone with your tenacity at the Bureau,” Ryder offered.

  Beth smiled and took a swig of beer. She leaned forward and Ryder could see it in her eyes. “Part of me died in that mine, Carolyn. I’ve been one of Pritchard’s victims all these years but didn’t know it. He was slowly killing me.” Beth looked despondent.

  Ryder reached across the table and took hold of her hand. “It’s all right,” she said. “We will catch him, Beth, I promise you.”

  Beth didn’t nod because she didn’t believe it. Pritchard was gone, vanished. He was never going to be found. The only trace was a blood trail leading out of the tunnel where they had confronted him together. Either Beth or Ryder had managed to hit him, but the FBI found no body. The blood trail led to the outside via a small, almost hidden, air shaft. Pritchard knew the mine layout all too well.

  Beth could have caught up to him, killed him, finally put her demons to rest. Yet thinking back now and looking at Ryder sitting opposite her, she would have made the same decision again if she had to. Saving Ryder was all that mattered in that one moment. “I can’t do it anymore, Carolyn. I’ve seen too much pain and suffering. I’m going to move back east for a while.”

  “You’re a good person, Beth. You deserve better.”

  “You deserve the credit. It was you who busted the terrorist cell.”

  Ryder waved Beth away, “Rubbish. You were with us all the way.” In the aftermath, while recovering, Ryder tried to run the investigation from her hospital bed. She instructed Miller that in every news interview Beth Rimes was to be standing right next to him and that he was to say it was a joint effort, the FBI working together with the local police. It put a few noses out of joint with her fellow FBI colleagues, but Ryder didn’t care.