by David Spell
“Bummer. What did you tell him?”
“I told him to go and do something physically impossible. I’ll probably get in trouble for it, but watching his face turn red before he started yelling made it all worthwhile,” O’Reilly said, a smile creeping across his face.
“Is he not coming to the party?” Donaldson asked.
“No and he pulled all his people, too. It’s gonna be a long day if my team has to do everything. On the plus side, I figure by Monday, Director Pickard will have issued Ward’s new orders, sending him to one of our field offices in Alaska.”
“Nice. That sounds like a good place for him.”
The remainder of the FBI taskforce were parked at the now closed Kitty Club, waiting for the all clear message over their radios. The agents all wore khakis, polo shirts over soft body armor, and their navy windbreakers with ‘FBI’ on the back. These men and women would help HRT remove the suspects, placing them all in different vehicles. The agents would then move into their role as investigators looking for the evidence described on the search warrant.
“HRT One to all units,” Toney’s voice transmitted, “ETA less than a minute.”
A dark SUV came from the opposite end of Chase Road with its lights off, turning down the alley behind the Center for Islamic Studies. This vehicle would pull alongside the metal door that exited into the alley to block any suspects from fleeing out the back. Two of Toney’s tactical agents exited the Durango, training their Colt M4 rifles at the rear windows of the facility.
The next vehicle down the block was a large box truck. It continued to the front corner of the mosque where it stopped. The rear rolling door was already up, the HRT team snaking out of the back, hurrying over to stack next to the double-glass doors. Eight tactical members would make entry, with four waiting just outside in case they were needed.
Tu watched the point man insert a pry bar into the space between the double doors and tugging on it. In seconds, both doors popped open and the next two team members tossed objects inside the opening and quickly pulling back. Even from almost five hundred feet away, the explosions were loud and the flash from the stun grenades lit up the windows of the mosque.
The tactical unit rushed inside, out of view as lights in neighboring homes flipped on, the residents awakened by the noise. Donaldson saw the four backup team members waiting by the door, the muzzles of their weapons pointed at the ground. After what seemed like an eternity but, in reality was only a little over a minute, a voice transmitted over the radio.
“Location secure. Eight suspects in custody. We need someone from EOD to come deal with these explosive vests.”
“Task Force Leader is clear,” O’Reilly spoke into his own transmitter. “Let’s move in, team.”
The FBI agents spent the next three hours collecting evidence from the mosque. After that, the suspects all had to be interviewed. As expected, Imam Mawdudi and several of the martyrs-to-be had refused to talk. The two women, however, faced with the reality of long prison sentences, broke during their interrogations, offering to cooperate in exchange for a possible plea deal. By 1630 hours, all of the suspects were in the Detroit Detention Center where they would remain until their arraignments on Monday.
At 1700 hours, O’Reilly wearily looked around the conference table at the equally exhausted agents.
“Great work. Everybody go get some sleep and we’ll meet back here at 0800 in the morning to wrap up our reports. I’m going to ask Director Morris to send one of the Bureau’s Gulfstreams to get us back to DC.”
That was a big deal. No one flew on the Gulfstream jets but the directors. Everyone’s eyes lit up with anticipation at not having to fly commercial.
As the team filed out, Jerome nodded at Joe.
“Great job, Boss. I’m ready to get home.”
“Not so fast, Agent Louis. You and I have another stop before we get to go home.”
ROXBOROUGH MEMORIAL HOSPITAL, PHILADELPHIA, SATURDAY, 1725 HOURS
Both agents were operating on fumes as they wearily trudged into the hospital. Now, it was time to have one last conversation with Musa Khan before the two agents flew back to Washington. Lieutenant Harrison was waiting for them in the lobby.
“I saw the news. Were you guys just in Detroit?” the Philadelphia police detective asked.
Joe nodded. “We were. That was another one of Khan’s cells, his last one we think. Now, it’s time to take the gloves off and let this piece of shit know what he’s facing.”
The two uniformed officers outside Khan’s room recognized the lieutenant, letting the three men walk right in without knocking. The terrorist stared at a plate of bland food on the tray in front of him, his left hand secured to the bed so that he could use his right to eat.
“Did we catch you at a bad time, Musa?”
O’Reilly saw the surprise in the terrorist’s eyes as Khan stared at the three men. During previous visits, the two FBI agents had allowed Lieutenant Harrison do the talking.
“I’m Agent O’Reilly and this is Agent Louis. We’re with the FBI and have known who you are for a while but we wanted to wait until we took down your cells in Philadelphia and Detroit. Today, I have the pleasure of letting you know that you’re being charged with eighty-five counts of murder, one count of murder of a federal agent, a hundred and forty-one counts of attempted murder, and a whole list of weapons, explosives, and terrorism-related charges. The federal government is going to be seeking the death penalty against you. This is an on-going investigation and the number of charges will likely go up. The good news is that we can only kill you once. Any questions?”
“Aren’t you going to read me my rights, Agent O’Reilly?” Musa asked with a smirk.
The big G-Man laughed. “No. I have no desire to talk with you and you’re going to be in the hospital for a while. Enjoy your dinner. That looks really good.”
“I remember you now, Agent Louis,” Musa commented, as the three men turned for the door.
Jerome locked eyes with the murderer, not liking what he saw.
“Yes,” Khan said, softly, with the hint of a smile. “Allah has a very special reward for traitors. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
“The only place I’m gonna see you is at your trial,” Louis retorted. “Maybe they’ll let me attend your execution.”
With that, the three cops left the room, reconvening in the nearby waiting room.
“Lieutenant, thanks for all your help,” Joe said, sticking out his hand. “We’ll send some agents to try and interview him in the next week or two. I doubt he’ll talk but I don’t want to give any slick defense attorney the argument that we interrogated him right after his surgery while he was drugged up.”
Harrison shook hands with both agents. “I guess when the media gets hold of the fact that we have the most wanted terrorist in the world in custody, it could turn into a circus for the next few weeks while he heals up.”
“Maybe,” Joe spoke up, “but for the moment, we’re not going to announce his arrest. We’ll keep the dogs at bay as long as we can. Just remember, this clown is slippery. Make sure your uniforms keep a close watch on him.”
The lieutenant shrugged. “We’ll do the best we can with what we have. Agent Louis, what was he talking about at the end there about knowing you?”
Jerome hesitated before answering. “I managed to infiltrate the cell in Brooklyn and had some contact with Khan there.”
“Agent Louis is being modest,” O’Reilly interjected. “He was undercover for over a year, building a case against that cell. If it wasn’t for his work, there’s no telling how many people might’ve died in New York.”
The Philadelphia detective looked at the young agent with new respect.
“That’s great work, Agent Louis. Congratulations. I look forward to seeing you guys again soon.”
“Now, we can go home,” Joe told Jerome, as they moved towards the parking lot.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON, D
.C., TUESDAY, 1010 HOURS
Chinese Ambassador to the United States, Wang Yesui, had never been summoned to the White House during the two years that he had occupied the post. He had visited the American president’s home three times. The first had been after taking over for his predecessor. He had asked for and been granted a short meeting with President Benjamin Asher to introduce himself and to express his desire to work with the Americans for the mutual benefit of both nations. The next two visits were for social functions in which ambassadors of key nations had been invited to mingle with American dignitaries.
At sixty-two years of age, Yesui had prepared his entire life for this role. He had received a degree in international economics at England’s famous Oxford College. From there, he had served in a variety of posts, both in China and abroad, earning the trust of the communist government. The current president of the People's Republic of China, Liu Xin, had honored Wang by appointing him to this important position in the United States.
President Asher’s chief-of-staff, Tony Perazzo, greeted the ambassador and guided him towards the Oval Office, asking Yesui to have a seat in the waiting area. Perazzo then disappeared into the office, presumably to let the president know he was there. Wang had asked his staff to try and find out any reason for this meeting. Of course, America had suffered two devastating terrorist attacks in the last month, but relations between China and the United States seemed to be solid.
One of the reasons that Yesui had been selected for this post was his background in economics. The Chinese president had made it clear that he hoped the ambassador would be able to get the Americans back to the negotiating table to discuss the hard line that Asher’s administration had taken on Chinese goods. President Xin expected his ambassador to work to tip the scales back in China’s favor.
As Wang continued to ponder the reason for his presence at the White House, the door opened and Perazzo poked his head out.
“Mr. Ambassador, please come in. President Asher will meet with you now.”
A grim-faced President Asher stood in front of his desk, reading from several sheets of paper. Wang walked over and extended his hand. The president ignored the other man, continuing to study the documents. After several awkward seconds, the visitor dropped his hand.
“Thank you for coming, Ambassador Yesui. This won’t take long,” Asher finally said, handing the papers to Wang. “This is the summary of an investigation in which my government has found indisputable evidence of China’s involvement in the recent terrorist attacks in two of our cities. There is also evidence of your government’s material support for other groups who were taken down before they could act. These documents include the steps that we’re asking China to take as a show of good faith to right the wrongs that have been done.”
The ambassador was too shocked at the allegations to protest, accepting the documents as President Asher continued.
“After you review the summary of our investigation and the evidence that we’ve uncovered and after you’ve shared that information with your government, I’d like to have a conversation with President Xin within twenty-four hours, here in my office, with you present. While I said that we’re asking for certain things from China, these aren’t open to negotiation.
“My chief-of-staff, Mr. Perazzo will reach out to you later this afternoon about scheduling that call with your president. Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr. Ambassador. I hope to see you again tomorrow.”
With that, Asher turned and walked behind his desk.
“Mr. Ambassador, if you’ll come with me, I’ll show you out,” the chief-of-staff said.
Yesui allowed himself to be led out of the Oval Office and to the side entrance of the White House where his limousine awaited him. As the vehicle pulled out of the secure compound, the ambassador realized that he had not uttered a word during his meeting with the American president.
Wang shook his head, turning his attention to the papers in his hands. By the time the limousine entered the grounds for the Chinese embassy twenty minutes later, the ambassador realized that it was just as well that he not spoken in his meeting with the president. If these allegations were only partially true, the Chinese government was about to be exposed to the world.
THE CHINESE EMBASSY, WASHINGTON, D.C., WEDNESDAY, 0645 HOURS
Wang Yesui hung up the phone, forcing himself to gently replace it in the cradle instead of slamming it down as he wanted to do. President Xian, while not admitting to any of Asher’s charges did not deny them, either. Wang was a committed member of the communist party and held tenaciously to the values of his government. At the same time, the ambassador was a pragmatist. Capitalism, or at least a form of it, had been good for his nation.
He himself was a recipient of working with the Americans instead of against them. Yesui’s family had a good life in the United States. One of his sons was studying at MIT in Boston, while the other had just completed a master’s degree at Georgia Tech in Atlanta. Why would his president support terrorist attacks against their biggest trading partner?
Wang knew that China was heavily involved in espionage in the U.S. Captain Huang headed up a team of Ministry of State Security agents and PLA soldiers who specialized in intelligence gathering. There was a big difference, however, in recruiting assets in the United States to steal military or technological secrets versus funding terrorists or supplying them with weapons.
The Chinese president had agreed to speak with President Asher the following morning, although he vowed to Yesui that he would not be bullied by the American leader. Wang had appealed to the Chinese leader to carefully consider the concessions and reparations the Americans were asking for. If Asher was telling the truth, in Wang’s opinion, this was not the time for China to flex or push back. The ambassador had already called and spoken with his wife, alerting her to the fact that they may very well be kicked out of America within the next forty-eight hours.
If Xian tried to play hardball with Asher, Yesui expected the American president to expel the entire Chinese delegation and to break off diplomatic relations. This would be the first step towards war and Wang did not want to see the two nations in a shooting conflict. No one would win in what could easily become an exchange of nuclear weapons.
Yesui wasn’t sure if he was truly an atheist or merely an agnostic. At this point, however, the diplomat found himself wishing that he had someone to pray to. If he had a god, he would pray for President Xian to listen to the voice of reason, he would ask for peace, and he would pray that President Asher’s legendary temper would not cause him do something that he could not undo.
THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON, D.C., WEDNESDAY, 0920 HOURS
The ambassador was again ushered into the President’s office. As before, he was not offered a seat, standing in front of the imposing mahogany desk as Asher leaned against the front of it, waiting for the call. It was only two minutes later that Wang realized someone else was in the room with them. A plain looking, middle-aged man sat on one of the couches in the sitting area of the room.
The larger of the two phones on the desk beeped and the president pressed the speaker button.
“Yes?”
“Mr. President, I have President Xian on the line.”
“Thank you, please put him on.”
After a series of clicks, Asher spoke up.
“President Xian? I have you on speaker. Ambassador Yesui is with us along with my CIA Director, Larry Purvis.”
“Yes, Mr. President, it is very nice to speak with you,” the voice spoke in heavily-accented English.
“Unfortunately, I can’t say the same,” Asher replied. “Have you reviewed the intelligence summary that I provided to your ambassador?”
“I have reviewed the documents. These are egregious accusations and have no basis in fact. How do you say in English? This seems like a fairytale.”
Wang saw Asher’s eyes narrow as he glanced over at the other man. The president took a deep breath.
“Si
r, this is no fairy tale. The American intelligence community is the best in the world and this intelligence is backed up by documented evidence. In fact, Mr. President, I’m so convinced of the veracity of this report that I’ve ordered three of our aircraft carrier groups to start towards the China Sea. I’ve also placed our military at DEFCON Two. No sir, this not a fairy tale.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the call.
“Mr. President, China will not be bullied by America. You would not dare go to war against my nation! We will respond in force to any aggression by the United States military.”
Yesui did not like where this was heading, his own pulse quickening. Were China and America really about to go to war?
Asher made momentary eye-contact with the ambassador before glancing at the CIA Director and giving him a slight smile.
“President Xian, I assure you that the last thing America or China needs is a war. That’s why none of this material about China’s duplicity in terrorism has been made public. Yet. I’m even prepared to publicly state that I believe you if you were to acknowledge that a radical, fringe group in your government was responsible for providing weapons and finances to these terror cells. Of course, those responsible would need to be brought to justice.
“If we were to release this entire report through our media outlets, I’m sure you can imagine the outrage that the American people will feel. They’ll be angry and want war. They’ll want retribution and revenge.
“A minute ago, you said that I wouldn’t dare go to war against your nation. Mr. President, most of my political opponents and even some of my allies think I’m crazy. You also said that China would not be bullied by America. Just remember, Mr. President, that it wasn’t the United States supporting terrorism against Chinese cities but the other way around. So, what will it be, sir? I was certainly hoping that we could work this out politically.
