by Camden Mays
Al-Himyari placed the muzzle of the gun against the door, calculating the aim required to shoot her in the head. His heart raced, realizing the potential demise of his plans if she saw the material. If he shot her, he would need to move fast.
“Where is Hasim? I’ve been trying to reach him, and he is not answering? If you don’t let me in, I will call the police. Hasim!” she yelled louder.
“Please, I am undressed,” al-Himyari said. “I am Hasim’s Khal uncle visiting, please go away, I will tell Hasim you came by.”
“I’m not leaving. He is not answering his phone, and now I find a stranger in his apartment.”
“This is no way for a Muslim woman to behave.”
“I am or was his girlfriend. Please let me in, or I will call the police.”
“Miss, please, as I said, I am undressed. Where are your manners? His cell phone is not working. It is dead. I was sleeping when you knocked as I traveled a long distance to visit my nephew.
“Hasim is at the University. He left this morning for a lecture he was required to attend. Please, Miss, this is embarrassing. I’ll have him call you when he returns.”
“You have not told me your name.”
“My name is Mohammed. Now please go!”
“Uncle Mohammed, I have class in an hour, if I don’t hear from Hasim by four o’clock, I’ll be back with the police.”
Reen left the doorway toward her car and sent off a text to her roommate. Some older guy is in Hasim’s apartment. Says he’s his Uncle. Acting weird. Reen’s roommate, also studying chemical engineering, had introduced the two. Reen sent a follow-up text. Is Hassim in class with you?
She paused hoping for a response when she heard the door behind her open.
“Miss, please I am dressed now, I have Hasim on the phone inside.”
“That’s OK.” Reen was reevaluating her previous stance. She started walking away when her text message popped up. Yes, he is here. Says his uncle is visiting. A wave of relief swept over Reen.
“Miss, please he’s on the phone inside. I insist. I feel terrible about the way I responded. I had been sleeping. Hasim said he wants to speak to you.”
Reen grinned and bowed her head in deference.
“I’m sorry about making a scene earlier.”
She followed al-Himyari back into the apartment to take the call. As they entered, he closed the door behind them, and Reen’s eyes grew wide as she saw all of the materials. She turned to leave, but al-Himyari leveled the butt of the handgun over her forehead, knocking her out cold to the floor.
A few hours later Hasim entered the apartment and immediately noticed the fresh carpet lines and the scent of ammonia from the full cleaning al-Himyari had given the place.
“Khal,” Hasim called out.
Al-Himyari emerged from the bedroom drying his hands with a towel.
“Uncle, you did not need to clean up, I could have done it.”
“Ibnu Al-Ukht my nephew, it seems the apartment is not the only thing I had to clean up after you.”
Hasim’s eyes widened, “What have you done? Where is Reen?”
“You did not tell me you had a girlfriend. She was quite disrespectful you know. My sister, your mother, would not have tolerated that sort of behavior.”
“Where is she?”
He rushed into the bedroom, seeing Reen lying on the bed with her hands and feet tied with duct tape, her mouth stuffed with a cloth wrapped in more duct tape.
Blood had dried in her hair and along her face. Her right eye was swollen shut and the side of her face red and swollen. The sight horrified Hasim. He searched for a pulse and felt the beat on her wrist.
“Reen,” he sobbed.
“Nephew, it is time for you to be a man and correct your own mistakes.” Al-Himyari had taken his anger for Hasim’s carelessness out on Reen. Beating her twice when she made noise. Now she lied unconscious and subdued.
“What happened?”
She was not supposed to be here. She had gone home to San Francisco for her sister’s wedding taking an extra week with the upcoming spring break to give her a little extra time. They had fought as she expected Hasim to join her. But he refused. He had things he needed to do and was falling behind on assignments. Hasim knew the break up was for the best. When his uncle arrived, he made him change cell phones out. Unable to reach him, she had returned.
“You got careless, that’s what happened. Now she must pay for your carelessness. Carry her to the bathtub.”
“Uncle!” Hasim cried, “No, please.”
“Hasim, do it now!”
Hasim reluctantly lifted Reen. As she flopped in his arms, she began to awake. Her eyes rolled back and forth as if her mind was trying to make sense of what was happening to her. She began to mutter “Hasim” as he laid her in the tub.
As she became more fully aware, the horror of what was happening to her settled in, and Hasim could see the sheer panic in her eyes. She attempted screams through the duct tape gag and began kicking against the tub.
Al-Himyari handed his nephew the knife that he had used to slay the Border Patrol agent.
“Make it quick.”
He left the bathroom.
✽✽✽
Counterterrorism Center - Langley (Tuesday)
Cole Cameron entered the parking garage at Langley at 05:15 and sighed realizing he had just vacated the spot a few short hours earlier. It was dark, cold and wet. As he stepped out of the car, he took in a deep breath of the brisk damp air attempting to draw energy for the day ahead.
He was exhausted, and his sore and aching body reminded him of his limitations. He knew scores of analysts and team members from the various agency were working long hard hours as well, but he and his core team of Hannah, Amy, Jason, and Raymond were wearing down. He could sense it. Well maybe not Raymond, he thought.
Inside their designated war room at CTC, a handful of analysts sat scattered at various workstations. The techies had the room dark and quiet, just the way they liked it. Cameron surveyed the room to see who was there, recognizing none of the core team had arrived yet he was glad, hoping they were getting much-needed rest. He also noticed Sinha working over in the corner. It was apparent he had never left.
Sinha turned, seeing Cameron at the back of the room, he pulled out his ear buds and walked back to meet him.
“Morning,” Cameron said extending his hand for the analyst to shake. It was a habit from his business days he tried to break. The custom didn’t seem to fit in this environment. Sinha seemed surprised by the gesture but shook Cameron's hand.
“Good morning. Hey, I wanted to say sorry about not pushing harder on the facial recognition with the NSA.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, the thing is I just heard back.”
“And?”
“And…there is a possible match.”
With what degree of probability?”
“Fifty-two percent. But also, they have pings on al-Himyari flying from Cairo to Mexico City, and then Mochis Airport in Mexico. So, he likely worked his way up to the Sonora desert area for the crossing.”
“Shit!”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Hey, you didn’t have this until a few days ago. He had already gotten here. Let’s focus on getting him now. Get the information over to the FBI and JTTF in Phoenix.”
“I’m on it.”
Cameron patted him on the back as he left. It was going to be a long ass day, and now he wished the rest of the team was in to get the ball rolling. He logged into the nearest open workstation in the large room and began researching everything he could find on al-Himyari. Yes, indeed it was going to be another long ass day.
He looked at the refreshment table in the rear of the room. He needed caffeine. Cameron never acquired the taste for coffee. Instead, he thought maybe hot tea will do the trick. He placed the tea bag in the paper cup and pressed the button on the hot water, nothing. It’s going to be a very long ass day.
Over the next few hours, the war room steadily began to fill up. Cameron had been in contact with McCune, filling her in on findings as she was scheduled for other off-site meetings. When Hernandez showed up, he inquired about the shoulder and sling, wanting to know details. Cameron diverted his attention, by thanking him for the sketch and sharing what they had uncovered. Hernandez ate up the praise.
At 07:45 Cameron was about ready to gather everyone around for a quick run-down meeting when he received a text from Hannah stating that she would be tied up at her office with a debriefing related to the New York City bombing. It was going to be a long day.
CHAPTER 18
INTERSTATE 40 – California
Al-Himyari double checked his rear-view mirror to make sure he wasn’t being followed as he exited from Interstate 40 on Keebler Road. He followed the signs for Granite Peak in the Mojave Desert. He needed to dispose of Reen’s body quickly before daylight.
They had taken her car to the oil fields in Inglewood, hiding it behind an old shed before going separate ways. Hasim had his part to do and al-Himyari his. The sooner he could get rid of the body the better. He needed to buy time for his nephew.
After a few minutes, he followed a turn off on a dusty road and searched for a spot. Fearing he would lose his way back he stopped, turned off the engine, listened and looked for any signs of activity. Satisfied that he was in the clear, he removed the army surplus tote bag stuffed with Reen’s petite body.
He saw a large rock about twelve feet high and just as wide. Perfect spot. He dragged the heavy tote along the sand to the other side of the large mass of stone. The girl made him think of his daughter that he had lost. The thought of coyotes and other creatures ravaging her lifeless body did not sit well with him, but he had no time to bury her. He needed to get back on the road and fulfill his commitment to Hasni and Allah.
Al-Himyari dumped her out of the tote and walked back to the car. Then he had a change of mind and searched for something to use for digging. Nearly thirty minutes later as the sun started to peek over the desert mountain, a mound of sand sat butted against the rock. He felt better now.
Al-Himyari turned on the air conditioner of his car. He had worked up a sweat, his hands were grimy from digging in the sand, and his shirt was a mess. He needed to blend in, not stand out. A few minutes later he saw a sign, ‘Essex Rest area’ and pulled over to clean up in the bathroom. As he hastily entered the men’s room, he bumped into a heavy-set trucker.
“Easy, partner,” the trucker said in his country drawl, turning his head as he caught a whiff of al-Himyari’s body odor.
“Sorry, excuse me, please.”
“No problem. You OK?”
He noticed the trucker eyeballing his appearance.
“Please, sir no problem. I had to fix a flat.”
“Uh-huh.”
The trucker shifted his Caterpillar trademarked cap and nodded. He gave a yank at his camo cargo pants and limped his way to his rig and climbed in for the long drive ahead. He cranked the engine and prepared to release the air brakes when his curiosity got the best of him.
He sat in the rumbling cab watching the bathroom entrance and then gazed up to a photo pinned in his visor. It was the picture of an Army Ranger, with a chest full of medals, his deceased son.
“Well son, if he heads east, he’s going our direction, and we’ll just trail him for a while.”
“OK, OK,“ he said to the imaginary presence, “if he goes west, I’ll leave it be.”
Al-Himyari finally emerged from the bathroom, cleaned up and wearing a fresh shirt. The trucker watched as he got in the older model Toyota and pulled out to exit the rest area. The trucker released the air brakes and shifted the big rig in gear. The power of the diesel engine rolled the truck and its heavy trailer forward.
The Toyota turned right and headed onto the ramp for Interstate 40 eastbound. The trucker pushed his rig forward, the driver not wanting to get too far behind.
“I know, I know,” the lonely trucker said to the photo. “We’ll be alright, if he stays at the speed limit, we’ll be able to keep up. Don’t you worry, Johnny.”
✽✽✽
Los Angeles, CA
Hasim checked into the Los Angeles JW Marriott with the fake credentials and credit card his uncle had given him, courtesy of the Russians.
“I understand you have two separate rooms reserved?” The clerk verified.
“Yes, I have other family members coming but they will be joining later, and I am paying for both rooms.”
“Would you like me to see if I can get adjoining rooms?”
“No, that will not be necessary. Separate floors are fine. Let me give you their names for when they arrive.”
“Certainly.”
“Also, I would like a key to the extra room as well. I have a gift basket prepared for them, and I want to leave it in the room.”
“That’s very thoughtful.”
The clerk ran the cards in the machine, wrote the room number on the holder and handed the additional key card to Hasim.
“Enjoy your stay.”
He rehearsed in his mind the details of the plan he had to execute. He had disappointed his uncle and taken his eyes off of the prize. Reen had died by his own hands, at first, he felt great sorrow but then came great resolve.
After all, it was the infidels who killed his father when he was eight and caused his mother’s death after more than a year of living in the refugee camp when he was but ten years old. If it had not been for the infidels, they would never have been in that horrible camp.
A group of men had taken him under their wings at the refugee camp. They told him they knew his uncle, Abu al-Himyari and that Allah had grand plans for him. They fostered, protected, and provided for him until the wealthy family in Turkey adopted him.
The men told him that the new family would take good care of him, he was blessed with great opportunities and afforded the best available education. But these blessings meant that Allah would expect great things in return.
He asked forgiveness from his Uncle for allowing the distraction to come close to interfering with Allah’s plans.
He had to come through now. His uncle depended on him for this critical role. Tomorrow four of his brothers would arrive for the conference. They would attend meetings, lectures and visit the booths of various groups represented, but first, they would each visit the guest room at the Marriott at separate designated times and leave with a different suitcase than the one they brought.
He was unaware of the specific details of the targets, and he understood why. But he knew the plan would be similar to his.
Cell members would use their maintenance or service positions at highly populated venues to bring in the C02 canisters for soda fountain machines. Only they would gain access to the air ventilation system, attach the assembly al-Himyari had built, open the value so that once triggered by a remote frequency the secondary valve would open dispersing the deadly gas for maximum reach through the air ducts.
Hasim opened the curtains and looked out the window of the twenty-third floor. The 110 freeway was to his right with a logjam of traffic. Staples Center was on the ground directly in front of his view and further up was the Los Angeles Convention Center only a five to ten-minute walk away. His thoughts drifted to Reen.
✽✽✽
Counterterrorism Center - Langley (Tuesday Afternoon)
Cameron arranged for lunch sandwiches and salads to be brought to the war room, allowing the team to work but reminding them to take breaks if they needed.
He noticed several of the analysts used the Pomodoro technique for focus and productivity. It was interesting to watch them as they broke their work day into twenty-five-minute chunks separated by five-minute breaks. After about four of these intervals, they usually took a long break of about fifteen to twenty minutes. From his observation, it appeared every effective.
Hannah Jacobs arrived while Cameron was out and when he returned, he saw sh
e had pulled up near Albright’s workstation reviewing screen images while working her way through an Asian salad.
She always dressed well, but today she looked even better. She wore a dark blue suit and a white blouse, and her hair seemed to have a little more of a wave to it. She pulled her hair over her ear and jotted down some notes and then turned and smiled at Cameron. He nodded and walked over noticing she had taken the bandage off of her hand.
“Hi, welcome back. Has Jason filled you in?”
“We were just working on that,” she said in between bites.
“Well, McCune is on her way over for an update, so you’ll get caught up. She’s been out all day as well. I think you’re going to like what you hear.”
“What is there to like? A terrorist in the U.S.” she said, sarcastically.
“Well, I mean…like the breakthroughs in the leads,” Cameron said unsure of how to take her.
She laughed. “I’m just messing with you.”
McCune entered the room and stood at the back with Cameron.
“What do we have?”
“Ma’am, we’ve had a couple of developments, I’ll let the team share their findings.” Cameron motioned to everyone.
A volley of information came from what Cameron had called ‘the pit’ where the analysts arranged their workstations.
Albright gave an update from the field surveillance on suspected AIJB members and the FBI’s cyber team had uncovered that four suspected members were registered for the Islamic conference in LA set to begin tomorrow, and all four were members of an online group set up for discussions around the upcoming conference, hosted by a UCLA student, Hasim Rajar.
“Do we believe the student is connected with the AIJB?”
“He was not on our radar until, now.”
“He could be a sleeper. If he is connected it would be a very deep plant,” Cameron offered.
“FBI counterterrorism has nothing on him. No radical online posts or downloads, nothing to suggest he has any strong political leanings. And Amy and I’ve been working AIJB for nearly four years and we’ve never seen anything cross the wire from the middle east. So, he seems clean. But we’re digging. Bridgette,” Cameron said handing off the discussion.
