Wolf Trap (Casey Reddick Book 1)

by Charles DeMaris

  “Don’t mind at all. Sit down and have a bite and we'll be off shortly.”

  “Say, is that your phone?” James asked, pointing at the satellite phone lying on the ground.

  “Oh yeah,” Casey said, “Must have fallen off the table.”

  He picked up the phone and noticed the missed call from the office. He dialed back and Jenny answered immediately.

  “Casey, change of plans.”

  “We don’t need to bring Ansari?”

  “Ken should still bring him, but we need you moving faster than that. Miriam picked something up, looks serious and imminent.”

  “You remember how I packed your bag?” Avi asked, “You’re going to need to pack it the same. We need you on the next flight to Detroit and you might need to be armed when you get there.”

  “Why Detroit?”

  “Miriam’s picked up something. She’s still translating as we speak. We don’t have everything yet, but the Palace at Auburn Hills is mentioned more than once. Seems to be a target.”

  “Are they planning on blowing…”

  “Hold on a sec. Miriam’s talking to me. I’m putting this on speaker. Go ahead Miriam.”

  “The Palace is definitely a target, but I don’t think it’s a bomb, and there’s no mention of when,” Miriam said.

  “The Pistons are in the playoffs against the Bulls. Next game’s in a couple days. Oh my…”

  “How many people will be there?”

  “NBA playoff game? Probably close to twenty thousand. Not sure how many people that place seats.”

  “I don’t think it’s a bomb this time. Looks like gas. Saw Sarin and VX come up more than once.”

  “That stuff’s not exactly legal. They must be making it somewhere.”

  “The recipes are readily available for anyone willing to search,” Avi said.

  “How would you use it at a basketball arena?” Miriam said.

  “I read a paper about this when I was in high school. Talked about how a building could be gassed using the ventilation system. That’s why a lot of new buildings have gas sensors in the ducts and the system will shut down if anything is detected.”

  “But this place isn’t that new, is it?”

  “It opened before I was born, in the 80s, I think. They might have gas detectors in the ducts, but someone would have to be in the control room to shut it down if the gas is detected. Who knows if they’ve retrofitted an old building like that with an automated system?”

  “So, the attacker would have to be in the control room to put the gas in the system, and then remain to make sure nobody shuts the system off if the gas is detected?” Jenny asked.

  “Pretty much.”

  “But security would have to be pretty tight for a playoff game. How would someone get to the control room with the gas?”

  “Stadiums I played at would be getting deliveries on game days all the time. I always saw delivery guys going in and out. Not much security there, at least not as much. That’s how I’d do it.”

  “Okay. Tell Ken his job hasn’t changed, except he’s to drop you at Kenyatta today. There’s a flight leaving in four hours and we need you on it.”

  17

  “Worst case guys,” Jenny asked, “What are we looking at if the attack is successful?”

  “The arena seats just under twenty thousand,” Miriam said.

  “Casey is probably right about the method of attack. If someone gets into the mechanical room, he could release the gas into the ventilation system and expose most of the people in the arena. Casualty estimates could vary greatly. Could be a few hundred, or a few thousand. It would all depend on how fast people realized what was going on and reacted,” Avi said.

  “Even a few hundred would be devastating. We’re already seeing the repercussions of the bus station attacks. It will be quite a while before people start riding again, and when they do it’s going to be like going to the airport with all the security.

  The public psyche is fragile, and frankly doesn’t always make the most sense. If this attack succeeds and it comes out that it was an act of terrorism, it will terrify people and attendance at sporting events will take a big hit. One of our own shoots up a movie theater and people keep going to movies like nothing happened. Both times someone attacked a public place and people died, but people react differently. This will terrify people and they will gladly turn to the government to take away more of their freedoms.”

  “Does it seem odd to you that there seems to be all of this terrorist activity all of a sudden?” Ahmed asked.

  “We haven’t been doing this that long,” Jenny said, “For all we know this could be the norm and we weren’t aware before. How many attacks have been stopped that the American people never knew about?”

  “Have you been monitoring Langley?” Avi asked.

  “Yes, and that’s the funny thing. It’s business as usual around there. Not a peep about this, and you would expect something like this to cause a stir.”

  “First the bus station attack, and now this. Do you think the evidence you sent them caught everyone by surprise? You set this whole thing up here in about four months and staff it with amateurs and you’re digging up intel the CIA didn’t know about? Maybe they miss a few, but two in a row seems questionable.”

  “You know what I think?” Miriam asked, “These attacks are a diversion.”

  “A diversion?” Jenny said.

  “Yeah. Both were probably planned well in advance to distract us from something bigger. Pull off a couple big ones like this, or a couple more in the next month, and you have all the law enforcement and intelligence agencies focusing on those and not on the big one. The end goal is the big one. Even if the little ones fail, you drain resources toward stopping those instead of stopping the big attack.”

  “That makes sense. We’ll know more when we have a chance to talk to Ansari. That could be the big one. How long do you figure it will be before he’s here?”

  “Ken’s plane isn’t that fast, so a couple days at least with the fuel stops,” Avi said.

  “So, for now, our priority is stopping Detroit. Casey is going to need schematics of the arena,” Jenny said.

  “Got that right here,” Ahmed said, “I’ll get it to him shortly. He has two options. The first is that he goes in through the service area and the other is that he has a ticket and goes in disguised as a fan. The problem with that is he goes in unarmed, but getting in the arena is easier.”

  “I don’t like that approach,” Avi said, “He gets into the public areas easy enough, but he still needs to get to the service level. There will be access doors, but they will require keys or he’s liable to be spotted going that way. He’s also going to want to be armed. The service area is the best option.”

  “He’s going to need a way in. It’s not like he can just walk in the dock area.”

  “The same goes for the attacker,” Jenny said, “What kind of deliveries might be made the day of the game and who makes those deliveries? Find that out and we’ll have a way to get him in, and we’ll have an idea how the attacker plays on getting in. Maybe he can catch him before he enters the building.”

  Ahmed looked up from his computer. “Post- game locker room food,” he said.

  “Excuse me,” Jenny said.

  “Food. Teams have food in the locker rooms for the players after the game. I used to see vans delivering food boxes at UC before basketball games, guys going in and out with dollies.”

  “Look into that. See if there are food deliveries scheduled and who does the deliveries,” and to Avi, “That credit card Casey has. Does it have a high limit?”

  “It’s about ten grand, but he has a debit card as well, and we can transfer into that account. Mr. Smith owns a business that does contract work for Fox. You have paid him handsomely. Here’s the online login for the account. He has a personal account attached that money can be transferred into,” Avi said.

  Jenny logged into the accounts and whistled at the amou
nt in the business account. “So, I can just transfer from the business account if I want him to have access to funds on that debit card? Where did all the money come from to fund this account?”

  “Check the deposits. They’re all random and believable. From various clients of Mr. Smith’s business. You’re one of the clients, but a small part on paper. Do you think he’s going to need access to funds when he lands?”

  “Depends on what Ahmed finds out. If these food deliveries are managed by third party couriers, we can get him in no problem. If not, it gets trickier.”

  “If they’re third party…”

  “We find out who the company is and Casey goes in looking like one of their people.”

  “That’s short notice. He’ll need one of their vehicles and the uniform.”

  “Depends on the company,” Ahmed said, “I drove for one of those a couple summers ago. Bought a cheap van, got it running good, and hooked up with a local company that runs Cincinnati and Dayton. Money was okay. Used my own van and they provided me with some uniform shirts, but not all companies use uniforms.”

  “Was your van marked?”

  “They just slapped a sticker on the side.”

  “Okay, let me know when you find something out.”

  Ken arrived home after dropping Casey off at the airport and found Elijah and Tariq sitting on the back- porch conversing in Arabic. They were eating mangoes and watching the animals at the lakeshore.

  Elijah switched to Swahili and addressed Ken.

  “So why did Casey have to leave so suddenly?”

  “Something about to go down in the U.S.”

  “Another attack?”

  “Think so. Something about a basketball arena and nerve gas.”

  “That would be nasty. So, what are our plans?”

  “Nothing’s changed. How much fuel does Nyangumi have?”

  “She has a full belly.”

  “That’s good. We need to contact our friends in Ireland and Canada.”

  “Already done, brother. Touch and go at each location, top the tanks and split. Only tricky part is getting into the U.S.”

  “That’s tricky, but doable. I did it twice in smaller planes. Use the mountains. Stay low and off the radar. Flight plans aren’t needed for domestic flights in America, so once we’re in the country we’re good.”

  “How about our guest? I’m surprised he hasn’t smelled something yet.”

  “He still credits us with saving his life, which is true enough, and I actually don’t think he knows who’s after him. It’s obviously not the Pakistanis, unless they hired an outside group to do their dirty work.”

  “I don’t think it’s the Pakistanis. You heard what Casey said. I think the buyer wants to cover his tracks. Eliminating the seller would take care of that.”

  “He’s bound to get suspicious once we get on the plane. Up until now, we’ve been attacked and he hasn’t had time to think. If we leave again, he’ll suspect something rather quickly.”

  “I’ve already thought about that. He loves this juice, and his glass is almost empty,” then to Tariq in Arabic, “Would you like another glass of juice?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Why don't you bring us all a glass,” he said to Ken in Swahili, “There’s a special ingredient in a jar on the top shelf of the fridge. A healthy dose in his juice will make him quite complacent for a few hours. Just be sure to keep track of whose glass is whose.”

  “How complacent?”

  “Out like a light. When he nods off, we can carry him on board and start the pre- flight.”

  Casey slept the entire flight from Nairobi to London. He was now sitting in a cafe in Heathrow eating a salad and powering up his phone. There was an email from the office. There were two food deliveries expected at the arena the day of the game and they were contracted through Rapid Relay Transport. Rapid Relay used independent contractors in cargo vans for their deliveries. Jenny gave him the address and number for a private individual selling a van that was equipped for this type of work. Payment had already been made via PayPal and all Casey had to do was meet the man and pick up the van. There was a local print shop that would have the decals he would need to put on the sides. Jenny would give him the details of the shipment in a later email.

  There was also an email from Ahmed with a file attached. The file was a detailed schematic of the arena, with the location of the mechanical control room marked. There was a kitchen between the dock area and the control room. If he made the food delivery, it was simply a matter of going farther down the hall to the mechanical room. Maybe not simply. Things were rarely that simple. There would be people in that part of the arena before game time and he would have to get where he needed to without arousing suspicion. He studied the file for a few minutes, powered down the phone, and went toward the gate to board the flight to Detroit.

  “That is certainly more than I ever cared to learn about dispatch software,” Jenny said.

  “You figured out when the shipment picks up?” Ahmed asked.

  “Better than that. Troy Smith is now a contractor with Rapid Relay Transport. He works out of their Toledo office. I have his entire driver profile and the van info set up. We also have GPS tracking tied into his driver profile. He’s in their system as a legit driver.”

  “What if someone in their office tries to dispatch him on something?”

  “That’s taken care of. I have him currently delivering a package in Detroit that he picked up in Ohio. Of course, that’s bogus. I’m updating his progress manually and I have him dispatched on one of the food deliveries. That one’s legit. He will be expected and he will need to actually make the pickup and delivery. I sent him a link to download the dispatch app to his phone. As far as Rapid is concerned, he’s one of their drivers and as long as the delivery goes off without a hitch and he enters all of the information properly, that part should be fine. Let’s just hope he gets to the control room before the attacker.”

  Casey picked the van up from the seller and made his way to the print shop, where he picked up the decals and applied them to each side of the van. His next stop was to pick up a dolly and then to the office for the company he supposedly drove for. This company used uniform shirts and he didn’t have one. He walked in and the receptionist took no notice of him. He found a driver’s break room where he purchased a can of Coke from the vending machine. A young Hispanic man approached him and stuck out his hand.

  “You new around here? Don’t think I’ve seen you before. Name’s Jorge.”

  Casey shook Jorge’s hand. “Troy. Not really new. I’m out of the Toledo office. Just stopped in to see if I could get another shirt.”

  “Why’d you forget your shirt?”

  “Last place I delivered got grease all over it. Got another delivery to make, need a clean shirt.”

  “Ah. See Mike, end of the hall. He’s got the shirts.”

  “Okay, thanks man.”

  “No problem, bro. Be safe.”

  Casey left the office with a uniform shirt and a ball cap and got in the van to head to the pickup location. He studied the app on his phone and made sure it was on and tracking. It was a simple enough app. Arrive and depart the pickup and arrive and depart the delivery, entering all the pertinent information at each leg. When he arrived at the pickup, he drove around the back of the building, saw his new- found friend Jorge driving out in a van similar to his, and parked near the shipping office and went in, stopping on the way to make sure his weapon was not visible.

  “Can I help you?” the woman at the desk said.

  “Here to pickup for the Palace.”

  “Gotta lot of stuff goin’ there, what’s your pickup number?”

  “Don’t know the pickup number.”

  “Gotta have a pickup number. Don’t know what you’re gettin’ without it. You ever pickup here before?”

  “First time, ma’am.”

  “Just get the number.”

  Casey looked in the app and f
ound a note with the number, which he gave the woman. Two minutes later she was back at the desk with three copies of the bill of lading.

  “Sign one for me, keep one, and leave the other when you deliver. Won’t be ready for an hour or so. What dock you in?”

  “I’m in a van.”

  “Just hang by the overhead door. We’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

  Jorge Chavez entered the pickup info and pulled out of the warehouse. As he was driving out, he saw a familiar black face in the van that was just arriving. He waved at his new friend. What was his name again? Troy…that was it. So, Troy was also picking up here. Probably going to the Palace as well. Maybe he’d run into him over there. Seemed like a nice guy. Jorge was hoping to run into some other people there as well. He was a huge Pistons fan. Maybe some of the players would pass by when he was making the delivery. He didn’t know how far the locker rooms were from the service area, but he could only dream. Maybe he could get an autograph for his son.

  ‘Man, I should have gone to the bathroom before I left,’ he thought to himself a few minutes later. He took the next exit and pulled into a gas station to relieve himself, not noticing the motorcycle following him and parking two spots down. He was finishing his business at the urinal when he felt a prick at the back of his neck. He zipped up and turned around in the same motion.

  “What the…?”

  He saw an olive- colored face, felt a pair of arms easing him to the floor, then darkness.

  Hassan Abdullah dragged Jorge into the stall and jammed the needle into his forearm. That should do the trick. Another junkie passing out from an overdose in a public restroom. It was hardly out of the ordinary these days. A moment later he exited the restroom wearing Jorge’s uniform shirt and hat. He purchased an energy drink, got in Jorge’s van, and pulled out.

  18

  Brendan Stewart gladly signed up for the extra shift. Most of the cops taking these shifts were the young guys, not guys with ten years on the force like Brendan, but he liked doing security at games. Getting paid to attend a game was better than buying a ticket, and sometimes he got to meet the players. His son had an impressive autograph collection at home. It was quite the sweet gig, Tigers games in the summer and Pistons and Lions games in the winter, and now the Pistons playoff games. Other officers didn’t always like these assignments and at times the chief had to assign some of the slots, but Brendan’s arm never had to be twisted.