by David Spell
The hot shower refreshed him, although having to shave his beard off left him feeling naked. Staring at himself in the mirror, he was pleased with how his wounds had healed. He ran his right hand over the new pink scar tissue on his repaired left shoulder and right side where a bullet had been removed. He didn’t have a full range of motion in his arm but at least he could use it. If he had been a regular patient, the medical staff would have prescribed physical therapy. As a prisoner, however, he was not entitled to any more than the minimum. In his case, the vile Jewish doctor who seemed to smirk every time he came to check on Khan’s recovery, was probably the least skilled surgeon in the hospital. Thanks be to Allah that his other wounds had also healed without any complications, the scars merely signs of his sacrifice for the jihad.
Musa had placed a similar backpack in lockers in each of the cities where he had a cell. They all contained a pistol, knife, a change of clothes, toiletries, cash, a small tool kit, a prepaid cell phone, four MREs, and two liters of water. It was just enough supplies to sustain him until he could resupply himself.
He used the knife to slice open the plastic package of a meal-ready-to-eat. The chicken burrito was better than any of the hospital meals that he had consumed over the last two months. What’s next? he wondered, taking another bite, his eyes suddenly heavy. Weariness descended upon him, the adrenaline dump of the last several hours, leaving his weakened body drained and ready for sleep. The clock beside the bed showed 10:25am. I’ll just lay down for a little while, he thought. I have so much to think about and plan.
Khan awoke with a start, disoriented as his eyes darted around, shadows filling the room. He grabbed the pistol from off the nightstand before remembering where he was. The clock showed 7:10pm. I slept almost nine hours? I must’ve been much more exhausted than I realized.
His stomach growled and he finished the MRE that he had opened earlier. Having been handcuffed to the hospital bed for the last two months, he had suffered the humiliation of having a nurse bathe him. I think I’ll take another shower, he thought, and then I’ll get to work.
As Musa stood, he felt light-headed and faint, quickly sitting back down on the edge of the bed. Khan’s escape and trip to Baltimore had been fueled by adrenaline and desperation, but now he was getting a feel for his true physical state. His legs were weak from a lack of exercise, as well as the fact that he was recovering from several serious injuries.
After a few minutes, the terrorist realized that he would not be going anywhere that evening. He picked up the prepaid smartphone from the bedside table and turned it on. A sudden fear filled his mind as he struggled to remember the phone number. Musa closed his eyes, asking Allah for help. Yes, that’s it, he thought, punching in a number and then typing his text message.
“Hello, brother. I’m staying at the same place I stayed the last time that we visited. I know it has been a while, but I would like to see you. Are you available tonight? Room 212.”
The Pakistani punched the send key and waited. The phone vibrated two minutes later.
“I’m on my way.”
Lawrence Evans had thought that he would never hear from Khan again as he parked his car a block from the Hometown Inn. In fact, it had been over six months since Musa’s last visit and the last time that they had spoken. Evans had been disappointed that he couldn’t provide any suitable volunteers for a jihad in Baltimore. In the past two months, however, the lay leader had been cultivating three young men who seemed to have the commitment to become true soldiers of Allah.
It was the start of a cell and he had been wanting to alert Khan to his progress, but had to wait until Musa contacted him. Lawrence suspected that the small, intense man had been behind the attacks in D.C. and Trenton, thrilled at the amount of devastation those brothers and sisters had accomplished through their sacrifice. Evans wanted to participate as well, having converted to Islam as a teenager after 9/11. The attacks on the twin towers in New York and the Pentagon, resonated with him as a young African-American male.
As he had grown in his new-found faith, Lawrence found himself leaning more and more towards the radical side of Islam. Even if Musa had not recontacted him, he was planning on following in his mentor’s steps to create a group of true believers, willing to strike back against the many injustices that they perceived in American society. Khan’s vision of attacking police officers and courthouses was especially appealing.
Evans’ older brother had been murdered during a drug deal turned robbery. The Baltimore Police Department had never located the murderer, proving to Lawrence that the cops didn’t care about black people. His other brother was serving a life sentence for killing a white man in an attempted carjacking. The system was clearly rigged and Evans was looking forward to the time when his team would be ready to right some wrongs.
The lay leader took a walk around the block as Khan had taught him, looking for any signs of a tail or police surveillance. This was not the best part of town, but the Taurus .40 cal under his shirt reassured him that he could handle anyone who might want to rob him. After satisfying himself that no one was following him or watching the motel, Lawrence knocked on the door for room 212.
Musa peered through the peephole, relieved to see Lawrence. He hoped that he was still a true believer, having had no contact with him in many months. Khan opened the door, his pistol in hand but out of sight, alert for any sign of a double-cross.
Evans hurried inside, not wishing to attract any attention. Musa was surprised by the hug and the other man’s show of emotion.
“Brother! It’s so good to see you!” Lawrence said, stepping back, surprised at Khan’s thinner than usual frame and hollow eyes. “Man, are you OK? Have you been sick or something?”
“Please, let’s sit down,” Musa said, settling on the side of the bed, pointing to the only chair in the small room. “We have much to catch up on.”
When Evans left at 2250 hours, the two men had a plan. The first stage involved Musa recovering completely and getting his strength back. Lawrence had been shocked to hear what his friend had been through over the last couple of months. Musa was surprised at the fact that his face wasn’t being blasted on the nightly news. He’d had no access to television or internet since his shooting and did not understand why there was no news of his arrest and subsequent escape. What were the American police up to?
Khan was thrilled to hear of his protege’s progress in creating a team of martyrs. Surely, Allah was giving them another opportunity to continue the fight against the Great Satan. Musa had seen the concern on his friend’s face and agreed to focus on resting and recuperating for the next couple of weeks. Lawrence would pick him up in the morning and whisk him away from the city to a safe location.
The terrorist would have preferred to get to work immediately, but the dizziness and weakness needed to be dealt with first. Evans explained that one of the brothers in the mosque was a successful real estate agent in the city and owned a second home on the Back River in the community of Edgemere, about an hour away. This was where he had been taking his three recruits once a month to begin preparing them for their role in the current jihad.
Musa could stay there for free while he recuperated. Lawrence would schedule to bring the new cell members out in the next week for Khan to meet them and gauge their commitment. For the first time in months, Musa felt that he could relax, at least a little. Truly, Allah was watching out for him and blessing his plans and Khan was thankful that he had chosen to contact Evans. For now, Musa would get a good night’s sleep, arise early to pray, and then be ready for his friend to drive him to Edgemere.
RESTON, VIRGINIA, WEDNESDAY, 1620 HOURS
Since baby Ray did not need to be picked up from preschool for at least another hour, Elizabeth had decided to go for a run, leaving the three men sitting around the kitchen table, each holding an ice-cold beer. Clark took a long pull from his bottle after finishing his synopsis of the terrorist’s escape from police custody.
“When d
id you hear about this?” Chuck asked Kevin.
The CIA ops director shook his head in disgust.
“Security cameras in the hospital showed him making his escape around 0300. After the cop realized that Khan was gone, he didn’t let anyone know for almost half an hour, running up and down the halls like a madman looking for him. Hospital security got involved but by that time, Musa was long gone. One of the security guards even spoke with him when Khan tried to get out through the closed lobby. The guard didn’t know who he was and directed him to use the ER exit.
“To make matters worse, after the cop notified his supervisor, the police department waited another three hours before alerting the Bureau. Phillie brought in their canines, put their helicopter in the air, and scoured the area but came up empty.”
“I can’t say that I blame them,” Andy commented. “Would you want to be known as the police department that let the worst terrorist since Osama bin Laden escape?”
Kevin shrugged. “The FBI finally got involved in the search. They found where Khan stole some clothes from one of the nurses’ dressing rooms so they know what he was wearing when he escaped. Phillie PD got a stolen car report from a convenience store a couple of blocks away. No one saw anything but the timeline matches up. As far as the PD and the FBI know, Musa Khan has disappeared again.”
After letting that sink in, they sat in silence for several minutes. Finally, Clark spoke up, this time with a smile.
“So that’s the bad news. The good news is two-fold. First, the Bureau has done a good job of keeping a lid on this. They had decided weeks ago not announce Khan’s arrest until his arraignment, which would’ve been this morning. The feeling in the FBI was that there still might be some of Musa’s recruits running around who might try to free him or attack the courthouse during his hearing. I can’t even begin to imagine the public outcry if it became known that they had the man responsible for murdering and injuring so many Americans in custody and let him get away.”
Kevin paused to drain the rest of his beer. He walked over to Chuck’s refrigerator and helped himself to another, unscrewing the top and taking his seat again.
“What was the second part of the good news?” McCain asked.
“Oh, yeah,” the ops director answered with a grin. “This is where you guys come in. We know where he’s at. Or, more specifically, we will know where he’s at very soon.”
“How do you know that?” Fleming challenged, pointing with his beer bottle.
Clark leaned in. “Don’t forget, as contractors that confidentiality agreement you signed with the Agency is still in effect.”
“Kevin, you know us better than that,” McCain said, irritation in his voice.
“I know, but this is a bit unorthodox and we sure don’t need this intel to leak out,” he answered, taking another drink and weighing his words. “I had the doctor who performed his surgery insert a GPS tracking chip into his shoulder. Come to find out, Dr. Weinstein is a retired major in the IDF and did some work for the Mossad whenever one of their operatives had been injured and needed some reconstructive surgery.”
“That’s a bit futuristic,” Chuck commented. “I didn’t even know that technology existed.”
Kevin shrugged. “The doc had to use some screws to repair Khan’s shoulder and simply attached the chip to one of the screws. Science and Technology told me that this is the first time one of their chips has been used like this. It’s new tech and the biggest drawback is the power source. The one that S&T designed utilizes a small lithium battery. Once we send the signal and turn it on, we’ll know where the asshole is at, but we’ll only have twenty-four to thirty-six hours before the battery runs out.”
“Are you sending Jay and Tu after him?” Andy asked.
“They’ll be on standby. If he’s left the US, they’ll be primary. Analysis, however, has worked up a personality profile and they’re saying that Khan still has a mission to complete and he isn’t leaving until he’s finished or he’s dead. Director Purvis and I met with the president this morning before I called you. President Asher wants you guys to go find him and deal with him. Permanently.”
Chuck and Andy locked eyes, both men knowing that there was no way that they would turn down this mission. They had given up hope on the idea of settling their account with the terrorist once he was in custody. Instead, they would have to draw satisfaction from seeing him convicted and eventually executed.
Now, Kevin was giving them the opportunity to get some payback for Josh, Special Agent Towers, Sandra Dunning, LeMarcus Wade, and all the victims from the terrorist attacks that Khan had organized.
“We’re in,” McCain said. “When were you planning on activating the tracker?”
“Can you have your team ready to go by noon tomorrow? I can forward the info to Gabby and she can activate the chip whenever you give the word. I’ve already got Joey enroute with his helicopter. The Agency will provide whatever support we can, but obviously we need to keep it under the radar. O’Reilly told me that we might get some blowback for helping take down that cell in Detroit. The DSAC at the field office there is evidently a first-class dickhead and recognized Tu. He told Joe that he’s filing a complaint against him with their internal affairs.”
Fleming shook his head in disgust.
“Sounds like a great guy. Any parameters, Kevin?”
The CIA ops director shook his head. “The FBI would love to have him alive to stand trial to showcase their investigative skills. They had their chance. All I need are photos and DNA samples. The main thing is that none of you guys get hurt. Let’s end this right here. And, of course, try not to get caught.”
”So Chuck, I guess we need to start making some phone calls,” Andy said. “Who do you want to take?”
“Everybody. You, me, Scotty, Jimmy, Hollywood, Chloe, and Gabby. If Musa is stupid enough to have stayed in America, we’ll bury him here.”
CENTURY TACTICAL SOLUTIONS, LEESBURG, VIRGINIA, THURSDAY, 1210 HOURS
Anticipation filled the conference room as the team gathered around the large table staring at Gabby. She typed in the information that Kevin had provided into her computer, just waiting for Chuck to give the OK to activate the GPS tracker inside of Musa Khan. McCain and Andy had prepped as best they could. Joey Anderson was waiting with his helicopter fifteen minutes away at the Leesburg Executive Airport. Hollywood and Chloe had picked up two rental vehicles earlier, not wanting to leave a trail by using their own transportation. All of their weapons and equipment was loaded and they could be on the road in minutes.
“You ready, Gabby?” Chuck asked.
“Just say when and we’ll see if this actually works.”
“Hit it.”
Vargas pressed the enter key. A progress bar popped up on the top of the screen with “Initializing” appearing over the bar. Less than a minute later, a map opened with a flashing dot in the center of it. A set of coordinates appeared at the bottom of the screen. Gabby adjusted the picture as everyone crowded around to see the map.
“He’s stationary, east of Baltimore,” she commented, zooming in even closer. “Edgemere, Maryland. It looks like he’s in a house on the Back River which flows into the Chesapeake Bay.”
Leaving the map up on one of her screens, she typed furiously onto the keypad, another map coming up on her second screen, giving them driving directions to the target location. She brought up a street view of the house, a white, two-story structure parked at the end of a narrow street, the rear of the residence just yards from the mile-wide body of water.
“Looks like an hour and a half from here.”
“Let’s zoom it in as much as you can and print out those maps so we can study the area. We’ll drive over so let’s plan on being on the road by 1300 hours. Is there any kind of an airport near there, Gabby?”
“Hang on,” she answered, doing a quick search. “The Essex Skypark Airport is close but it’s across the bay. I’m guessing maybe two miles by air.”
“That
’s good. I’ll have Joey fly over there and stage in case we get into trouble or need a quick extraction. Let’s study these maps and start putting a plan together. While we’re doing that, Gabby, can you check the tax records for that address? Let’s find out who owns the house. If there are innocents inside, that’ll affect the way we handle it.
“Chloe, we have no idea what the floor plan is. Can you see if there are any building plans on file? I don’t want to go in dark if we can help it.”
As the team discussed different options, Vargas’ investigation of the owner of the house indicated that it belonged to the Syed Ahmad Realty Group. A little digging into Syed Ahmad by the world-class hacker revealed him to be a multi-millionaire and a founding member of the Masjid Hasbuna Allahu in 2002. While there were many Islamic worship centers in the Baltimore area, Hasbuna Allahu leaned much farther towards fundamentalism and radical Islam than any of the others.
Vargas also hacked into Ahmad’s work email and poked around in his social media accounts. From what she saw, he spent most of his time in the city. His wife was active in several Islamic charities and their three children attended the most expensive private school in Baltimore. Gabby knew that Chuck was depending on her to give them as much intelligence as she could develop to help them make the best tactical choices so she kept probing.
Twenty minutes later, Gabby summarized her discoveries for the team.
“The power, gas, and water bills indicate that the house sits empty most of the year. I ran it back for twelve months and there were some spikes when someone is there for a few days or a week at a time. Syed Ahmad’s wife posted a picture of the two of them at a charity event last night on her Instagram so it looks like Musa is the only one at the lake house.”
“Thanks, Gabby. So, unless we get out there and need to make an adjustment, we’re going to take the direct approach. We don’t have time to wait him out, so we’re going in to get him. Chloe, what’d you find out?”
