Between Destiny and Duty: A Chuck McCain Novel- Book Two

by David Spell

  He used his right hand to reach over to his left side, finding the sharp, double-edge dagger still in place. That was a plus, he thought, unclipping the sheath and refitting it on his right side, the exertion exhausting him. The wounded man slowly lowered himself back to the ground to think, his back against the tree.

  Musa immediately prioritized what he needed. First-aid was at the top of the list. Then, I need a better weapon, transportation, and dry clothes. After that, I need a safe place where I can rest and recover. A few minutes later, the terrorist took a deep breath, pain still coursing through his body as he stood, and started walking.

  RIDLEY PARK, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY, 1515 HOURS

  “What’s happening, Terry?” Tu asked into his phone. “I’ve got you on speaker so Chuck can hear, too.”

  The team had relocated to an Agency safe house in the quiet borough of Ridley Park near the airport.

  “He’s gonna be fine, Boss. That round nicked his femoral artery, but the tourniquet held and they just wheeled him out of surgery. The doc says he’ll make a full recovery. That’s the good news.”

  “I can only imagine the bad news,” Donaldson answered, shaking his head.

  “Yeah, when someone comes into the ER with a gunshot wound, the police are getting called. The uniform that showed up realized pretty quick that this was more than a drug deal gone bad or a gang shooting. For the moment, I’m still sticking with the accidental shooting story, but they aren’t buying it. I haven’t even told them where it took place.

  “LeMarcus is going to be here a while. They can’t take a chance on that artery opening back up. I figure they’ll take me in for further questioning. Since you grabbed our guns before I drove him to the hospital, they really don’t have any charges on me. Yet. We’ll see how those fake IDs hold up in the US. Did we get the bastard?”

  “No,” Tu sighed. “There was a lot of blood in the car so you guys hit him. Chuck shot him again as he ran away but he still managed to get to the river and went for a swim. In a perfect world, he drowned and his body will wash up in a couple of days. Keep me posted. Directors Clark and the big boss, Director Purvis are in the loop. You know we’ll take care of you guys.”

  “Never doubted it for a second, Tu.”

  After they disconnected, McCain spoke up.

  “He’s not dead. This guy’s a trained operative and is showing why he’s been so hard to catch. He’s one slippery bastard.”

  After losing the terrorist in the river, they had watched for several minutes, hoping to catch a glimpse of him popping up out of the water. Chloe had radioed that the infra-red camera on the drone was not picking up the suspect’s heat signal in the cold river. She also said that the battery was low and she was going to bring it in before it crashed.

  The three men had met Andy and Scotty as they returned to their vehicle.

  “Damn, guys, you smell like shit!” Jimmy said.

  “Good to see you, too,” Andy grunted. “It was bad enough in that dumpster, but whatever Smith ate for breakfast produced some nasty gas that he shared the entire time we were in that little slice of hell.”

  McCain briefed them and they related what had happened during the shootout at the warehouse. Donaldson stepped off to the side and activated his radio.

  “Alpha One to Alpha Three. I’m going to have Hollywood bring you a vehicle and I want you to drive Wade to the hospital. We’re on our way back to you now.”

  After hearing from Tu, Estrada had hurriedly helped the two women get the drone and computers packed up. Within three minutes, the two Sequoias were roaring towards Khan’s warehouse. Soon, everyone was gathered around their wounded comrade. They carefully helped him into the backseat of one of the Toyota SUVs.

  Before climbing into the driver’s seat, Terry checked the tourniquet again, pleased that the flow of blood had been stopped.

  “Hey, Smith, can you check this for me? I’d like another set of eyes before I head to the hospital.”

  The former Ranger/paramedic leaned in and winked at the former Marine.

  “Just a flesh wound, buddy,” he told his friend, examining the tourniquet, and satisfied with what he saw.

  “You smell like shit,” Wade said, with a weak voice. “What’ve you been rolling in?”

  “Hey, be nice, Jarhead. You know what a sensitive guy I am. It looks good, Terry. Not bad at all for the Air Force.”

  Chuck had collected the two men’s weapons and body armor, tossing everything into the rear of Tu’s Yukon, not wanting to give the police any reason to investigate them. In less than five minutes, Terry was speeding away from the scene with LeMarcus, enroute to the Roxborough Memorial Hospital.

  After they were gone, the sound of rotors filled the air, a helicopter materializing over their heads.

  “Alpha One, I’ve got a delivery from Director Clark,” Joey Anderson’s voice transmitted.

  “Alpha One clear. The scene is secure and there are no obstructions,” Donaldson answered back.

  The Sikorsky made a perfect landing in the wide parking area between the two warehouses. A minute later, two figures emerged from the aircraft and it was quickly airborne again. Joe O’Reilly, and an unidentified black man approached McCain and the others.

  O’Reilly took in the scene, noticing the cracked windshield and bullet holes in the black Yukon.

  Chuck spoke up, offering his hand to Joe. “Good to see you, Agent O’Reilly.”

  “This is Special Agent Jerome Louis,” the senior G-Man grunted. “We weren’t given much of a briefing, only that this was related to the recent terrorist attacks. Agent Louis was responsible for taking down that cell in Brooklyn. My boss just said that the CIA was requesting help and that we needed to get up here ASAP. Your boss arranged for the helicopter. You want to tell us what’s going on?”

  McCain nodded, pointing at Donaldson, standing off to the side, his phone to his ear as he briefed Director Clark.

  “That’s Tu Donaldson. He’s one of the team leaders for Kevin Clark at the Agency and running the show on this op. We’ve been tracking Musa Khan. He managed to get away after getting into a shootout and wounding one of Tu’s guys. Khan was hit pretty good himself before going swimming.”

  O’Reilly and Louis exchanged a surprised look.

  “How did you guys find him and why weren’t we notified?” Joe asked, irritation in his voice. “He killed one of our agents and we want to bag this scumbag.”

  “He’s also responsible for the terror attacks in DC and Trenton that costs many more lives,” Donaldson answered, joining the men, and locking eyes with O’Reilly. “The president has made it clear that there had better not be any more terrorist incidents. The reason you weren’t notified is that we do things differently. The intel we obtained would not be admissible as evidence in court.”

  “Where is he now?” Joe asked.

  Tu related what had transpired inside the Schuylkill Business Center.

  “Hopefully, this bastard’s dead body will wash up somewhere down river. In the meantime, we’ve got explosives, weapons, and ammo in this warehouse. He was in the process of building another car bomb. If you can get some of your people in here to secure this scene that would be great. Khan’s vehicle is around the corner, shot to pieces with a lot of blood in it. We recovered his laptop and some documents that may help us crack another couple of cells. If you’ll help us, we’ll share all the intel with the FBI.”

  Joe stood expressionless for almost a minute before looking at Jerome.

  “Agent Louis, I don’t know Agent Donaldson here but I’ve worked with McCain. He’s a bit unorthodox but he and his people get shit done. I’m not sure how all this is going to play out when a federal DA gets ahold of it, but if the president says there had better not be any more attacks, I’m willing to do whatever we need to do. You ready to get to work?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jerome answered, looking at Tu. “Where do you want us to start?”

  When they arrived at the safe hous
e, Scotty and Andy had bagged their soiled clothes in plastic trash bags, took long showers, and dressed in fresh jeans and t-shirts. After Tu had spoken with Terry and Kevin, updating him on the situation, the team gathered in the living room. “So, what’s next, Tu?” Chuck asked.

  “Gabby, can you monitor Philadelphia PD’s 911 calls? I want to know about any suspicious person or activity calls that come in from that area around the river.”

  The young woman tapped her ear, showing the ear bud.

  “Already on it, Boss. Nothing yet.”

  Donaldson nodded.

  “Good deal. I think the next thing that we need to do is get eyes on that house in Wynnewood. Chloe, can you get go online and rent us two more cars? Get a couple of big SUVs or vans delivered here ASAP. I’ll give you my credit card.

  “For now, Chuck, why don’t you take Andy, Scotty, and Chloe in the Sequoia? Jimmy, Hollywood, and Jennifer can join you whenever Jay’s team gets here and we get another vehicle. Check the sat maps and figure out how you want to do it. Gabby and I can monitor things from here. There’s always the possibility that Khan might show up somewhere else.”

  Now that they had a plan, everyone started moving. The disappointment at losing Musa Khan had to be suppressed, knowing that they could be facing another dangerous situation at this new target location. Everyone checked their equipment and prepared to leave. Chuck, Andy, and Tu studied the satellite maps of the new target location. Within an hour their rentals had been delivered and the first vehicle was enroute to the neighborhood in Wynnewood.

  The two FBI agents had stayed at the business center, calling in reinforcements from the Philadelphia office. An EOD expert was brought in, along with a CSI team. After more personnel were on the scene and had brought a loaner vehicle for O’Reilly and Louis, the agents located and freed the restrained security guard.

  Officer Feely was shaken by his ordeal and wanted to press charges on the rogue federal cops who had tased and bound him.

  “The problem with that,” Agent O’Reilly had gently explained, “is that those guys are so deep undercover, no one knows who they are. We don’t even know. We were just told to come out here and help secure a crime scene.”

  The hefty security officer pointed a beefy finger at Joe. “You’re the FBI! You better find them! They can’t get away with this!”

  O’Reilly gave a slight nod to Louis. Jerome stepped closer and spoke softly to Feely.

  “I’ll tell you what we can do, Officer Feely, and that is make sure that you get full credit for helping take down a terrorist plot. I’m sure you had your suspicions about the last warehouse on the left? Did you know they were storing weapons and explosives there? Had you ever seen anyone there?”

  The security guard’s eyes grew wide. “I knew it. I’d suspected that something was going on in that building.”

  “Have you ever seen anyone there?”

  “Oh yeah,” he nodded, “a couple of times. It was a little terrorist looking guy with a dark beard. He was definitely from somewhere over there in the Middle East where all the terrorists come from. I was keeping my eye on him, waiting for the right moment to call it in.”

  Joe rolled his eyes, letting Jerome do the talking.

  “Well, you were right and that’s exactly what was going on. If we can count on your cooperation in the investigation, I’ll make sure that you get the credit you deserve.”

  “But I still want to press charges on that son-of-a-bitch who tased me and beat me up.”

  “Good luck with that, Officer Feely. It was nice talking with you,” Agent Louis said, as he and O”Reilly turned towards their borrowed Durango.

  “Wait, wait, I thought you wanted my help?”

  “We’ll manage without you,” Joe said, opening the driver’s door.

  A look of understanding crossed Feely’s face. “Oh, I get it. You want me to forget about what happened earlier?”

  “That’s up to you,” Jerome answered, “but we can’t help you and you certainly can’t help us if you if you’re going to try and push a story that can’t be proven. If you want to forget about it and help us, though, you could come out of this as a hero.”

  The Chris Farley look-a-like swallowed hard. “Sure, sounds good. You guys just tell me what I need to do and I’ll cooperate fully.”

  “I was hoping we could count on you,” Louis smiled. “Grab your truck and follow us down to the warehouse. We need to get a statement from you.”

  WYNNEWOOD, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY, 2015 HOURS

  Before Chuck’s team left the safe house, they had familiarized themselves with the area they were enroute to utilizing Google Maps. A check through a real estate data base revealed several vacant homes for sale in the neighborhood. The closest one to the target location was on the street behind it.

  The terrorist had picked his safe house well. There was a minimum of a hundred feet between homes, each sitting on large, shady lots. The surveillance team was pleased to find that the vacant residence sat well off the road, hidden from any prying eyes. Within two minutes, Andy had picked the lock on the rear door and opened the garage, letting Smith pull their vehicle inside.

  Unfortunately, the team could not see the suspect house from their vantage spot. Fleming had taken a stroll into the wood line to get the lay of the land. Twenty minutes later, they all sat in a circle on the floor of one of the upstairs bedrooms.

  “It’s over two hundred feet to the back of that house from here,” the former MARSOC Marine related. “There’s good brush and tree cover between here and there. I would recommend setting up a OP in the woods when the other team gets here.”

  “Could you see anything inside?” Chuck asked.

  “No, they’ve got heavy drapes over the windows. I did hear voices coming from the basement. I didn’t get close enough to pick it up, but a male voice was doing a lot of talking.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Andy. Figure out how you want to set up the surveillance. It looks like we’re going to be here a while. I’ll call Jimmy and tell him to stop and pick up some food. Chloe, can you call Gabby to see if she can work her magic in the real estate data base? We don’t need to be bothered by any prospective home buyers. See if she can unlist it or something?”

  RIVERSIDE APARTMENTS, PHILDELPHIA, SATURDAY, 2030 HOURS

  The Asian couple stared at their tormentor with fear-filled eyes. They were in their early thirties, both seated on the blue cloth couch, the petite woman holding their two-year old daughter, asleep in her arms. The man was restrained, both his hands and feet tightly bound. Musa had only gagged the husband, simply telling the wife he would kill them and their little girl if she attempted to alert anyone. On the other hand, if they helped him, he would allow them to live. Of course, he had no intention of leaving any witnesses behind but they needed to believe they could survive their ordeal.

  After walking away from the river, the Pakistani had stumbled a short distance to where the tree line opened up to reveal the back of a three-story apartment building. The apartments all had a sliding door that opened onto a small enclosed patio, the trees and the sound of the nearby Schuylkill River giving the illusion that the resident lived in the country and not in the big city.

  The blinds were closed on the first two apartments he faced. The terrorist kept moving to his right, fighting the pain that every step brought. The third apartment was a gift from Allah. The sliding glass door stood open and a small Asian girl played with a doll on the patio. Khan drew his knife, looking around to make sure no one was watching.

  He slipped out of the trees, rushing up to where the child sat, holding a toy bottle and feeding her plastic baby, various other toys scattered around her enclosed play area. Inside, he could hear the sounds of someone working in the kitchen: plates, pots, and pans clinking as the dishwasher was emptied.

  Musa attempted to keep his left arm motionless against his body as he pulled on the screen door. It was locked but a quick slash of his dagger created a hole he could rea
ch through to open the door. The child looked up in surprise at the bloody man standing in front of her. Before she could cry out, Khan had grabbed her, covering her mouth with his right hand, his almost useless left holding the knife.

  He stepped into the apartment, the little girl now struggling to get away. The mother was suddenly running towards him, screaming in Korean. Khan placed the point of the double-edged blade against the child’s neck, a slight cut causing the child to resist even more.

  “Shut up or I kill her!”

  The woman stopped, raising her hands in surrender, tears pouring down her face.

  “No, please. I give you anything. Don’t hurt her.”

  “Shut and lock the door and close the drapes. Now!” Musa ordered.

  The woman quickly complied.

  “Is there anyone else here?”

  “No, just my baby and me.”

  “Where’s your husband?” The wounded man had seen her wedding band.

  “He go to store.”

  The husband showed up half an hour later. Even in his weakened state, Khan had controlled the situation, using the threat of slicing the throats of his wife and daughter to gain his compliance. Musa had the woman tie her husband’s ankles and hands with twine he had found in a closet. The terrorist made her redo it twice until he was satisfied the knots were tight enough. Khan put a sock in the man’s mouth before wrapping black electrical tape around his head to hold the gag in place.

  Musa then had the wife help him get his jacket and shirt off. The pain was excruciating and the Pakistani used all of his willpower not to pass out. Khan continued to hold the child, using her as leverage to get her mother to follow his orders. The little girl had cried for twenty minutes but was silent now, fear evident in her young eyes.

  Shirtless, the terrorist ordered the mother to retrieve a first-aid kit. Sadly, all they had was a basic pouch of band-aids, gauze bandages, and anti-biotic cream. He directed the woman to apply the cream to each of his wounds and then cover them with one of the bandages. The only pain pills that she had was a bottle of Tylenol. He took five, downing them with a glass of water.