The Bombmaker: A Michael Thomas Thriller

by Gavin Reese

  Abdel paused and prayed the next directive wasn’t necessary. By 10:15, if I have not arrived, evacuate and flee according to the previous orders. You will not hear from me again. Prepare to ascend.

  The blue bubble again appeared.

  We understand. God is great! Peace be unto you.

  Peace be unto you, as well. Abdel closed the dialogue, deleted it from the account, and uninstalled the software from his laptop. He glanced to the right side of the writing desk, nearest his half-open windows, and beamed at the two flyers that had inspired his precise timing to conclude the operation. Although he had wanted the attacks to coincide with Friday prayers, the two public notices he’d found only an hour ago changed his mind. This way, all the imposters will pay for their sins while this arrogant nation again recoils at the necrotic sting of God’s true servants.

  Abdel stood from the desk, strode to the apartment’s only door, and donned his slip-on sandals. Now, the first team must be notified, as well. Time is short, and I have much to do in these final days and hours.

  May 9, 01:03am

  8 Rue du Corbillon. Seine-Saint-Denis, France.

  After successfully presenting himself as a local beggar, Michael had camped out atop the fire escape of a tall building due north of his target. Once he’d parted ways with Gerard last evening, he purchased a worn, mismatched ensemble at a used clothing store and proceeded to the encampment at Canal Saint-Martin. A homeless man living there accepted €100 for his faded, ripped, and threadbare military fatigue jacket. Although he’d thanked Michael profusely for the exchange and offered to sell more of his belongings, Michael had only thanked him and encouraged the man to buy food and another jacket. The priest in me wants to believe that money will change the direction or temporary comfort of his life, but the cop in me knows better. I’d be a fool to bet against that cash going to drugs and alcohol, but I will always hope I’m wrong.

  Using an instant aging process he’d learned at his former police department, Michael scrubbed enough motor oil and dirt from an asphalt parking lot to make his clean second-hand clothes match the jacket’s authenticity. After acquiring and preparing the rest of his homeless kit, he returned to The Oremus for a nap and the gear he needed that night. With the shift in activity during Ramadan, Michael had to remain cautious and prepared to have any chance of survival or success. The homeless are a vulnerable segment of society commonly targeted for harassment, random violence, and deliberate, premeditated assaults from within their own population. I’m offering myself up for an unknown portion of that whole experience by stepping out tonight, but there’s no other way to get what we need. Through a conspiracy of circumstance and intent, Abrini’s kept the most critical intel components hidden from me and Gerard. Neither of us have enough information to move forward, even with the vast difference in our objectives and methods.

  To avoid unwanted attention from the staff and local police, Michael had waited to emerge from his room until most guests at The Oremus had turned in for the night. At 1am, he hurried from room 144 and left out the nearest exit. The trains and Metro still ran at that hour, so he easily returned to Seine-Saint-Denis, although at a much slower pace than normal to keep himself in character.

  By 2:15am, Michael plodded up the steps from a Metro station and meandered toward his nearby targets. Most of the streets were empty, and only a few vehicles and pedestrians were out. As he expected, no one paid attention to another homeless beggar. The handful of people he passed watched him from the corners of their eyes as a personal safety measure, but no one stopped or engaged with him. Perfect.

  As he trudged along the wide Boulevard Carnot toward its intersection with the much narrower and familiar one-way Rue de Corbillon, Michael flopped down with his plastic shopping bags and backpack to take up temporary residence in the doorway of a closed business. From that ground level perch on the north side of the street, he watched for movement, security, and pedestrians across the boulevard. The building opposite him, at the southeast corner of the intersection, was his first target that night.

  The sign out in front displayed the business name in Arabic and what Michael assumed was French: الاستيلاء على عدن, Institut Alaistila' Ealaa ‘usul Eadn. He’d spent about an hour researching the business and the building to avoid unexpected danger, but Michael had only learned it was an Islamic school whose name didn’t have an obvious, direct translation into English. Probably local slang or lesser-known vocabulary. Another reason people are always better than computers.

  About a half-hour into his surveillance of the building, Michael’s curiosity over the name overcame his countersurveillance concerns. He surreptitiously retrieved his work cell, shielded its screen from the deserted street, and rechecked the name. Once he input the school’s name and identified it as Arabic, the translation app converted it to English: “seizing the assets of Eden.” That mystery solved, he put the phone away and sought any option other than ascending that particular building. Finding none, he worked to reduce his apprehension. Ominous phrasing, but I can’t disagree with the message.

  Michael waited until after 3:30am to emerge from the shop’s doorway with his backpack and plastic bags and approach the first target. I need to be in-place before the congregation stumbles down to the mosque for the 4:35 prayers. From the empty segment of boulevard, he cautiously climbed a rickety fire escape on the west side of the building to a small rusty perch on top of the fifth floor. Ignoring Abrini’s building for the moment, Michael sat still and watched the surrounding neighborhood. No one reacted to his presence, no audible alarms activated, and no police cars materialized to remove him from the structure.

  The cops, he feared, posed a greater risk to him than any of the street ruffians he’d encountered so far. Even a patrol cop might recognize the use and value of the items in his shopping bags and backpack. They’d either assume he stole them, which would end in his arrest for that crime, or they’d realize he was surveilling the Muslim population with high-tech equipment, which would likely result in his arrest for hate crimes under the nefarious and ill-conceived European laws that criminalized free speech and private thought across the continent. That’s the last thing the Church needs right now, to have one of their priests arrested and prosecuted in France for anti-Muslim hate crimes with no record of how or when he got into the country. At least two French churches are desecrated every day, and the anti-Christian reaction would only intensify after that.

  Once satisfied he’d escaped notice, Michael retrieved the first piece of equipment, a set of high-tech mil-spec binoculars that offered both thermal and infrared views. In providing the latest generation mil-spec kit, Jacques had proven the value of his position and access. Michael expected the man had serious connections in the military or criminal underworld. Maybe both.

  He first activated the binos’ thermal function and immediately understood why American cops couldn’t use the device on a private residence without a search warrant. The computer-enhanced images showed him the number of people hidden inside the walls and revealed something of their activities at that moment. Movement below his target caught Michael’s attention, and he saw the family who lived there was still awake. Two parents and three small children played some unknown game together. Good to know. Michael shifted his digital gaze another floor down and saw a couple in that apartment engaged in intercourse. His cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment and Michael cast his binos back to the target. My bad, sorry about that.

  Abrini’s apartment was darker than the others, which meant it was cooler. Some lighter areas emanated near the middle of the space but didn’t have a distinct shape. For a long time, he watched nothing change inside the apartment and thought Abrini might have gone out. If I could trust Gerard enough to have coordinated this with him, he could review the camera feeds and tell me if the man was still inside. Maybe we can get the apartment’s floorplan today. It would be helpful to know what the interior layout is supposed to be.

  He considered a
ltering his plan and moving over to Abrini’s building now. There’s no one out right now, the target looks empty, and most of the other residents inside the building are staying inside and keeping to themselves. Michael sighed and weighed his options, given the first optional daily prayer began in less than an hour. The more popular and first mandated prayer of started at 6:24, and he intended to use the gap between those to conduct his close surveillance and intel collection at Abrini’s windows. He glanced back at his watch and decided he didn’t have time to assure his success or protect his escape. No, I’ll just stick with the plan, not enough reason to change it yet.

  Michael switched the binoculars over to the infrared setting, but Abrini’s apartment was too far away to see more than the exterior wall. He set them down, retrieved an IR spotlight, and aimed it at the target’s windows. With the binoculars in his left hand and the spotlight in his right, Michael manipulated the light on and off every few seconds. The brief view into the suddenly “bright” apartment had at least assured him that no people were visible inside. Because the IR spectrum isn’t entirely invisible to the human eye, Michael didn’t want to risk leaving the torch on and attracting attention.

  He alternated between watching the neighborhood for potential trouble and watching Abrini’s apartment through the thermal binos while trying to calm his fears about what the man’s absence might mean. The early, optional prayer session came and went with no change to the empty streets. He glanced back at the family’s apartment below Abrini and found they appeared to be asleep.

  He scanned the adjacent buildings in search of a better perch. Michael disliked the idea of again ascending the Muslim-owned school during Ramadan, when much of the neighborhood stayed awake at night and might feel extraordinarily sensitive to perceived slights toward their faith. It’s a religion, a social structure, and political ideology, after all, not merely their relationship with God.

  brtbrt brtbrt brtbrt

  Michael’s wristwatch vibrated, and he turned off the alarm notification. He brought the binos back up and gave his target a final, thorough look. After nothing moved or changed inside for five minutes, he replaced the device in his backpack and rechecked his watch. 5:06. It’s time.

  Moving as fast as the still quiet morning allowed, Michael descended the fire escape with his bagged belongings, approached Abrini’s building in character, and lumbered around to the southeast corner. He paused outside the closed entrance to the makeshift mosque, confirmed he still appeared to be alone and unobserved, and set about the most difficult work of the morning. He removed the rest of his gear from the few shopping bags, stuffed the devices in his backpack, and cinched it tight against his shoulders.

  After its mandated inclusion in his covert training program, Michael had become obsessed with parkour. In his few free hours, he practiced the necessary skills and built additional strength by bouldering and rock climbing, and he needed to be perfect in all of that to succeed this morning. The eastern sky had not yet brightened with the coming sunrise as Michael scaled the building’s exterior. His backpack added a measure of difficulty and instability to his ascent. Still, Michael scampered up by the stone structure’s small ledges, occasional balconies, and stone windowsills. Although he could have circumnavigated the building to lessen the ascent, Michael had to avoid Gerard’s cameras. I don’t want him to know about this, not yet, anyway. I don’t mind sharing selected intel with the cop, but I can’t divulge our assets and capabilities. I’m already way outside the op-sec protocols just by working with him. In less than two minutes, he pulled himself up onto the roof.

  Once on top, Michael bear-crawled toward the northwest corner to reduce the weight and pressure he put on any one spot. He laid on his stomach over Abrini’s apartment, slowly leaned his head and face out over the edge of the roof, and looked down at his target’s small balcony. For a long time, Michael stayed still and listened. Curtains rustled in and out of the windows with the light, predawn breeze, but nothing else moved. He still might be out.

  Michael estimated the top of the windows stood three-to-four feet below the roofline. Too far to reach a camera over. Without a way to see inside from there, he shuffled over the edge, legs first, and dangled five stories above a concrete courtyard. No margin for error, no second chance to get it right.

  May 9, 05:12am

  8 Rue de Corbillon. Seine-Saint-Denis, France.

  Using the narrow stones around Abrini’s windows for grip and support beneath his right foot, Michael lowered himself off the five-story roof until his left toes just touched the balcony railing. He had to keep his chest and shoulders on the roof, his fingers clinging like vice grips to the thin ledge to prevent his fall. At that moment, Michael realized his body position prevented him from testing the railing by slowly adding his weight until he knew it would hold him. This backpack is putting too much weight out over the ledge!

  Michael couldn’t look down without leaning out beyond the roof and turning his potential energy into kinetic acceleration. Closing his eyes, he breathed deep and focused on his remaining senses while gravity and his body positioning conspired to shift him clockwise, away from the balcony, and beyond the questionable railing. I’m too far out to climb back up, so I have to go now, all at once, and pray for the best.

  He inhaled through his nose and let himself down the last relatively stable inches until the ball of his extended left foot touched the scant railing. Before gravity pulled him any farther over the railing to his left, Michael exhaled, slipped his right foot off the narrow windowsill while pushing back off the roof with his hands and then shoved away from the railing with his left foot. The sudden drop surged his adrenaline, even though he expected it, and he landed unsteadily on both feet with a light thud. Abrini’s balcony flexed beneath the force, and Michael fell back to the outer railing. He collapsed his legs, and the railing struck his backpack before Michael caught himself.

  creeeeak

  He lunged toward the apartment window, crouched low against the wall, and held onto the bottom of the frame to keep his weight away from the outside of the balcony. Michael realized the window was only open about two inches, and the thin curtains he’d seen blowing in the breeze hung out nearly a foot through the narrow opening. Even though the curtains were parted almost two feet, the apartment’s interior was too dark to see inside.

  As he clung to the window frame, Michael’s fear of waking or seeing Abrini replaced the concern of plunging five stories to his death. He scanned what little he could see inside the apartment and stayed there only long enough to establish faith that the concrete balcony would hold. He still heard and saw no movement, so he pivoted on his feet to the outside of the window, placed himself against the balcony railing, and rushed to gather the intel.

  Michael retrieved his binos from the backpack, dialed them to the lowest magnification, and scanned the interior with the thermal. He again saw dark colors and ambiguous shapes near the deep middle of a large open room, and the thermal vision provided no sense of depth. The bedroom must be on the other side of an interior wall. Michael recovered the IR torch, switched the binos’ viewing function, and examined the interior. He considered pushing the window open farther, but decided the risk was too great without an easy or quick escape route.

  A small, two-cushion couch sat ahead of him to his left, most of the middle of the open room was empty, and a small writing desk stood to Michael’s far right against the west wall. An interior wall ahead revealed the bedroom’s location, and he thought a small kitchen might be near the southwest corner, near the only exterior door. Not a single picture on the walls. Consistent with Islamic dogma, at least, but it doesn’t prove anything.

  A large box on the kitchen floor caught his eye, so Michael zoomed in with the binos and focused the IR torch to illuminate it. Although he didn’t have the specific vocabulary to name the glassware he saw, Michael saw enough of the items to understand they were chemical lab equipment. Never seen those shapes and clear containers in any
other setting. His chest tightened.

  Michael reached around to a small outer pocket on the backpack, replaced the binos and spotlight, and retrieved a small Wi-Fi camera. He’d adjusted its settings to maximize the battery life, which should last two or three days if Abrini didn’t stand in its field of view and do four hours of jumping jacks. In addition to the cameras and their ancillary equipment, Jacques had provided a gray outdoor spray paint that reasonably matched the stone and concrete throughout much of the city. Michael held the small device in the upper corner of the ornate wrought iron railing, just beneath the top handrail, and secured it with wire coated in gray, nonreflective plastic. It isn’t perfectly camouflaged, but it only has to be ‘good enough.’ Abrini shouldn’t see it unless he’s looking for change and anomalies. He pointed the lens toward the bulk of the living area, and then secured a second camera that looked toward the writing desk from the other side of the balcony.

  After ensuring both cameras were powered on, Michael hurried to retrieve another tech device, this one about the size and shape of a gaming console or an iPad, if the Apple product was three inches thick. Running out of time, need to move soon.

  No longer able to see inside the apartment, Michael hastened his efforts to collect the intel. The boxy device, an all-hazards field detection unit designed for military and law enforcement Hazardous Materials applications, sprung to life, began its internal calibration checks, and cast him in a lime green light. Nothing to do but hurry now.

  Michael stared into the dark apartment and scanned for movement until he noticed the screen’s green lighting dimmed. It displayed a message, Calibration confirmed. Ready for Use. He acknowledged the message and scrolled through a menu; based on the alleged delivery of chemical precursors and the lab glassware inside Abrini’s kitchen, Michael first pressed an icon to begin a Chemical Warfare Search. The device initiated a two-minute collection and test of the air, and Michael held its sensors just inside the window’s narrow opening. Whatever’s in there might be heavier or lighter than air, so it might spill out of the top or bottom of the window, and maybe not either.