Chapter 44
It was the best surveillance point and it was the worst surveillance point Murad had ever set up in. The Energy Lab allowed for clear unobstructed views for miles in every direction and with only one road in or out, it was easy to see who came and went. Murad had narrowed it down to two buildings he suspected they might be holding Sally and Jarrard in; one or the other — he really had no idea. It was like the pea under three cups game. SUVs and tactical vehicles came and went but Murad never knew who they brought in or out with them so he had to cover all the cups.
Murad had told the two men he had sent to watch Ben’s road to hike in after the SUVs left. “Go through the cane, no one will spot you, too risky to come up the road,” he told them. “Find who is still there. If it is either of the two we seek, take them and hide them. Then call me at once!”
Murad settled in for the pitch-black night as the lava absorbed any and all light from the stars above. He had parked the motor-scooter he had borrowed from one of the others along the road near Wawaloli State Park, from which point he could also see much of Kona International Airport. He had picked up a cheap, one-person tent at K-Mart and set it up pretending he was camping. They had a very liberal rule for homeless in Hawaii. You could camp for free on any state beaches, but only for three nights, then you had to move to another. This would be his first, and he wished they would find Sally or Jarrard before he was forced to move. He had two others maintaining watch at helicopter tour sites in case they needed to move fast; he knew one was a licensed pilot.
He sat up on a ridge across from his campsite and as the night sky darkened, he switched to night vision optics and watched closely as cars and delivery vans were turned away by the soldiers guarding the lab. Every so often, one or two individuals would move between the secondary buildings, but most of the activity was at the main facility. Two ambulances sat the entrance to the second largest structure, but they had not moved since first arriving that afternoon.
Then, almost at midnight, the strangest commotion broke out, centered on the east side of the laboratory. He could hear and see explosions and gunfire, but except for the soldiers running to and firing from protected positions, there was no indication of anyone outside the fences or coming in from above. That is, until he spotted the smallest of aircraft, then dozens of them, hovering, diving and circling thirty to forty feet above the fence line. He switched back to normal optics and then saw little rockets shooting out from beneath the drones. Even in Afghanistan he had never seen drones used in such effective unison. Only the U.S. military has technology like this, so why would they be firing on their own people? Murad wondered. He made quick calls to his brothers up north and put them all on alert. One of them asked him a question.
“Shut up you fool, just be ready for whatever I tell you!” Murad commanded.
Refocusing his attention, something larger with brighter red lights came from over the ocean and circled around the opposite side of the area, closer to the ambulances. He increased magnification and sensitivity and saw a nearby door swing open and two male figures, not soldiers, move out towards the ocean and freeze in place. They too had seen the large craft fire above.
The fighting increased on the other side of the Energy Lab. The night vision goggles made any visible light very bright so he was careful not to look towards the nearby airport tower beacon or runway lighting. Each explosion hurt his eyes but he needed to see where the two men went. It was then the craft landed and the two climbed underneath and appeared to lie down between its legs. Murad changed over to traditional binoculars just at the aircraft lifted, turned away from the Energy Lab and came swooping over in his direction towards the sea. As it neared, he could see exactly what it was. Flying overhead was a massive, unmanned drone, unlike anything he had ever seen. Besides the red eyes, only a small, white square emanated light, but shut off before it went over water. It then came around north in the direction of the airport where it slowed to land again, coming down beside what Murad recognized as the helicopter the Navy Seals used to attack their training bases in Afghanistan.
The helicopter’s lights were off but when the little square light came on again under the drone, he saw the rotors were turning, ready for flight. He could just make out the logo of a wave with the words Deep Surf across the tail fuselage. The men sat up from underneath, worked on some straps holding them in, then ran to the helicopter and climbed aboard through the rear doors. As fast as they had come in they were up again, but now in a very fast and capable aircraft. The enormous drone along with the dozens of little ones which had attacked the Energy Lab, evaporated into the night sky.
It was an escape! Someone created and used a diversion to get away, but who? Murad thought. They were two males, both too young to be Jarrard, who would never dress that way anyway. Certainly not Dr. Evans, but who? He did understand one thing though, if the agents wanted them, and they wanted to get away from the agents, and there was someone with enough resources to help them get away the way they just did, he probably wanted them too; especially if they were related to the Sentient Project.
Meanwhile, his men kept watch at the home on the north side of the island. They had crept closer and reported only one bearded man they did not recognize remaining in the home. They said something violent had happened there as they could see one structure was riddled with bullet holes. Other than this knowledge, they confirmed to Murad, all was quiet.
“Leave now,” Murad told them. “Meet me as we planned to do in case we needed to leave the island. It is time, we will go soon. Kill everyone there, yes, tourists too, you idiot, and take control of the helicopter. I will be there in one hour, or I will advise where to pick up.”
Murad hung up and settled back to wait to see what happened next. The sun was rising to the east and soon it would be easier to see. Slowly the military personnel and other vehicles moved off the Energy Lab grounds and made their way towards the airport where a military transport plane awaited, but the ambulances were still there and this was a research facility, not a hospital. Whoever is still inside may be injured and of value to them. I must find out their identity! Murad concluded.
He picked up the regular binoculars and saw the two remaining SUVs drive up to the front gate to stop and wait. Peering through the high-powered lenses with the light slowly improving, the entrance doors opened. First to come out was Jarrard with agents on both sides. Then, hung as if a beast, it was El Sharrad! How could it be? Look at him, he is mangled and deformed and his face contorted and swollen. What a wretched living thing he now is! What have they done to the servant of the Prophet Mohammed? El Sharrad has taught me everything I know. He is like a father to me.
Murad wished he had his rifle, he would end his misery, but no, if he did, they would be alerted to his location. He knew he must stay true to the cause and decide now on the best course of action.
Leaving the tent, he threw his leg over the scooter and chugged up the incline to the main road. From the looks of El Sharrad, even from that distance, he would soon be dead and besides, he would want Murad to continue the fight. So Murad decided his best course of action was to follow the vehicle with Jarrard inside. He would know, for the coward would tell him, about the other two captives and Dr. Evans’ whereabouts.
He sputtered into the gas station at the top of the hill along the Queen K Hawaii. There were runners and cyclists everywhere. These triathletes were something he just could not understand.
Hiding the scooter behind a row of porta-toilets along the highway, he pulled his bag from the compartment on the side of the scooter. He reached in to find his knife and sat down, his back against the toilets. As it was early morning, the station personnel had not arrived, but the gas pumps were running and he knew someone would come in soon to fill their tanks. In less than a minute a young man in a Jetta parked at one of the pumps to get some gas. Fastened to a rack on top was an expensive-looking bike and the driver, when he got out, was dressed in colorful, tight cycli
ng clothes. The young man could not have been more than twenty years of age. This, this sinner against Allah, his life consumed in self-decadence, sport and making a beautiful body — I will have no problem taking his life.
With loud music blaring from the Jetta’s speakers, and the lyrics, you can’t always get what you want heard above the music; Murad crept up behind his victim. Then in one efficient motion, he sliced his throat from ear to ear, almost removing his head with the effort. His body collapsed and Murad grabbed both ankles and dragged him to the back of the toilets. Murad looked at him pitifully, thinking, this athlete, he is a male, yet he has shaved his legs. It is disgusting!
Fortune smiled down upon Murad because the very moment he climbed behind the wheel of the stolen Jetta and started it, both SUVs with the ambulance behind came onto the main highway headed north. He knew the first one carried the Professor and he followed in pursuit. When they reached the airport the second SUV and ambulance turned on the second entrance marked for Air Freight Deliveries. Very good, Murad thought. When they stop I will only have to deal with a few to grab Jarrard.
He followed for ten miles, doing his best to avoid the dozens of cyclists already out on the road for a training session. When they saw the bike on his roof most gave him a small wave. He returned the greeting with his middle finger. Coming up on an entrance to a hotel and golf course complex, the driver ahead turned on his blinkers and turned left onto the grounds of the five-star resort. The SUV passed straight through the guard gate when he recognized the government plates. Murad slowed and the guard put up his hand, but when he too saw the pro bike on top, he waved Murad right through. With satisfaction with his deception, Murad imagined that the athletes must be a privileged class in America.
The SUV bypassed the hotel and parked in front of a standalone luxury suite adjoining a lush green golf course. A hotel representative stood waiting and handed the agent who emerged from the passenger side the keys to the suite. The hotel clerk sped away on his golf cart and the driver opened the rear of the SUV and helped Jarrard, who was in handcuffs, out of the vehicle and up the steps into the entranceway. The first agent remained outside to stand guard.
This will be very simple. Murad reached back in his bag to take out his pistol and fastened a silencer to the end. Although he may not have been dressed in appropriate clothing, he felt the bike gave him some credibility with others, so it may help him now. Murad dumped the workout gear from the dead cyclist’s Ironman bag and placed his own gear inside. He then clumsily figured out how to remove the bike from the roof-top rack. Once he brought the bike down, he tucked the gun in his waist strap, picked up the Ironman bag and with his left hand rolled the bike towards the suite.
As he approached he felt the agent on guard checking him out, so he lifted his index finger on the hand holding the bag as a greeting as the other cyclists on the road had extended to him. It must be a sign of respect from one triathlete to another. The agent responded in kind and satisfied Murad was just another cyclist, he turned to look in the other direction. With one swift motion, Murad tossed the bike into the grass, reached for his Glock, and with one steady shot, hit the agent just behind and below his left ear. The agent crumbled where he stood.
Murad picked up the bag and moved alongside the side of the suite with Jarrard and the other agent inside. Behind him, early morning golfers where teeing up, but there was a row of low palms which kept the downed agent hidden from their view. Murad was confident the agent inside had no idea they had been followed or had heard any noise outside, so he felt if he knocked lightly on the door, he might open it without much suspicion. He was right. Murad knocked three times and the latch came off and the door opened wide. To the surprise and instant dismay of the agent, Murad already had his weapon raised to head-height and with one shot; a crisp bullet penetrated the skull directly between his eyes. To Murad’s satisfaction, the back of the infidel’s head erupted with hair and blood splattering across the room, hitting Jarrard who sat with his head on the sofa. The scientist shot up and with a look of disbelief and recognition yelled “It’s you! I know you, from the pizza place! How could you, you killed that man!”
Murad put away his gun, grabbed the legs of the dead agent outside the door and dragged his body up and over that of the agent inside. Locking the door securely, he turned and said, “Mr. Jarrard, I do not deliver pizza, and today, you will wish I did!” He thrust Jarrard backwards across the coffee table in the center of the room. Stumbling, Jarrard fell and his head came down hard against the edge of the dining room table. Blood gushed from his forehead, but before he could cry out, Murad wrapped duct tape over his mouth and around his head. He then bound Jarrards’ arms and legs. “You will now tell me all about those held captive at the Energy Lab and where they may have gone. Today there is no pizza for you!”
Unleashed Page 55
