This act of terror wouldn’t go unpunished.
CHAPTER 23
RAKMAN PLACED ANOTHER CALL to the FBI at 7:00 a.m. He wanted to know if there was an update on his cousin’s release.
“Agent Anderson speaking, how can I help you?”
“Has the FBI released my cousin yet?”
Agent Anderson was thinking about the explosion he was made aware of at the governor’s mansion. So, he knew the threat was real.
Agent Anderson was trying to speak with confidence knowing he hadn’t tried one bit to get his cousin out of jail.
“We’re working on it as we speak,” he replied.
“You fucking Americans just don’t get it, do you? You will never understand until it is too late, and the end is near, and everyone is in the fire begging to be saved!” Rakman was furious. “I gave you more than enough time. If he is not released, this city will burn!” he yelled before he hung up and left Agent Anderson to process his capability of destruction fully.
~ ~ ~
At 7:15 a.m. the town of Middletown, PA, was now on high alert. The national guard also came in to assist at the TMI area as well as the airport in order to make certain that no one would get a chance to destroy those structures.
The Arab soldiers Rakman sent to fulfill their destiny were now aware of all the security around the area, especially after the national guard arrived. The Arab man called Rakman to make him aware of the situation.
“My brother, the time has come sooner than you may have wanted it. These Americans have their national guard here.”
“Allah is the most merciful, and He knows it is time. I’ll see you in paradise. As-salamu alaykum!” Rakman said, knowing he would never speak to them again.
“Walaikum assalam,” he said, upon hanging up the phone before arming the explosives. He was ready to meet his maker.
Rakman was loading up his twin nickel-plated .45mms with the pearl handles and the inscription Allah u Akbar.
He was thinking about his next step if the FBI did not release his cousin.
The men at the capitol were also at the ready with explosives armed and detonator in hand.
~ ~ ~
Back in Middletown, the Arab goons were just finishing up their final prayer. Then one of them started up the van, revving up the gas and pressing down on the pedal to race toward the nuclear plant. The front gate was being secured by military Hummers. This didn’t stop him, since his foot was all the way down on the floor. It was the final moment closing in fast as he clenched the detonator in his hand with his thumb on the button. The national guard members saw the van approaching fast. They took aim at the van and then realized it wasn’t going to slow down, so they unleashed a barrage of bullets.
“Allah! Allah u Akbar!” the men yelled out.
They were within a few feet before impact and detonation. Suddenly, as the drive pressed the button, time seemed to slow as they came crashing into the military vehicles, followed by a brute explosion, the blinding light of fire, shrapnel, and a violent blast that tore through the air. All in its path sucked the life from anyone or anything within a fifty-yard radius. The vehicles surrounding the immediate blast became scrap as they were forced apart. The reinforced gates still stood with a slight bend in the metal. The blast sent a wave of unforgiving destruction as the ground and all around it shook. It could be heard for miles.
The remaining national guard member that wasn’t in the immediate blast area survived. They assisted one another in between calling for more backup and medical attention. As for any attempt on TMI, the silos are four to six feet of thick concrete and steel, so it would have been a feat for them to get through that, even if they did make it past security.
It didn’t take long before news crews came to tell their version of events from what they had seen and gathered from survivors.
CHAPTER 24
RAKMAN WAS ON THE phone calling the FBI once again. Only this time he had even more leverage since his soldiers took their stand in Middletown by setting off the explosives.
“Agent Smith here,” he answered.
“Mr. Smith, do I have you Americans’ attention, or need I impose more destruction on this city and country? Your partner Agent Anderson realized he’s not in the position to or even capable of filling my demands.”
“That’s neither here or there, but you now have my attention as well as the director of the bureau Jack Ross’s. He’s here to help us all get some understanding and resolve this situation,” Agent Smith responded.
As the call went on, the FBI’s counterintelligence unit was trying to trace the scrambled call, so they could zero in on Rakman’s location. The problem is he did not stay on the phone long enough for the trace to be complete.
After Rakman again demanded the release of his cousin, he hung up the phone. He was gone without a trace.
Jack Ross stood up and took control over the operation.
“Listen up, ladies and gentlemen. We have lost too many men and women because of this terrorist scum. I want him captured. We need him to believe that we’re going to release his cousin. The moment we locate his cell phone, we’ll bring him down; and both of these terrorists will be prosecuted. This is not a game. We have lives at stake, so think ahead to catch this guy.” Jack paused, scanning the faces of his agents and allowing his words to sink in. “I need a team to get his cousin from York County Prison ASAP and get him on the phone as soon as he in transit. We want to sell this to his cousin until he’s in cuffs.”
The agents all went to do their jobs as assigned to them. Rakman was on the other side of the city, where he sat and thought about his next target.
As he was collecting his thoughts, he could hear the roaring of F-16 fighter jets flying overhead. They were ready to take out any threats in the sky that came close to the state capitol or TMI, as well as in the nation’s capitol.
~ ~ ~
At exactly 10:00 a.m. the guard yelled, “York County Prison inmate Tom Anderson!” which woke me up.
I jumped up fast as shit. I was still shell-shocked and alert from all the bullshit that had been going on in my life.
“What the fuck y’all want?” I said.
“You’re getting transferred in an hour, so get your shit together.”
“Why are y’all moving me. This shit is stupid.”
“You’re a high-profile inmate, plus a lot of people want you dead from the looks of things,” the CO said, really adding his own version of why, since he really didn’t know shit.
“So, my visit is not going to happen today? These some stupid muthafuckas!” I snapped, knowing it would take thirty minutes for my mom to get down here.
“I’ll give you a two-minute call to cancel it,” the CO responded.
They gave me the call; however, in the process, I reached out to some cats I came across, to check their loyalty and gangster. After the call, I made my way back to the cell to get all my shit together before lying back and thinking about the last few weeks and the life I was living with my cousins, the Miami connect, and the New York connect. Life was good. Now I was on my own without my cousins, who were like my thugged-out homies and paper chasers.
~ ~ ~
At 10:30 a.m. Rakman was making sure his team in the black cargo made it to their location.
“Aki, are you in position?”
“Yes, brother, I’m here waiting on the final moment and your call.”
“Is the other aki in place?”
“He’s also in place, and ready to be greeted by Allah.”
“Good, I’ll call you when it is time; however, if you don’t hear from me, then go on without me, and I’ll see you in paradise. As-salamu alaykum.”
“May peace be unto you, my brother,” he responded before hanging up the phone.
Becoming impatient, Rakman called up the Feds again. The phone rang a few times before the line was picked up.
“Agent Smith here.”
“I could let the phone ring one hundred time
s and you stupid Americans wouldn’t be able to trace it, so stop wasting time that you could be getting my cousin out! Where is he?”
Agents were scrambling to get Amir on the phone to speak with his cousin.
“We’re going to have your cousin call you as soon as he exits the prison.”
“I’ll believe it when it’s done. You Americans will regret this day if you do not comply with this simple request,” Rakman said after he hung up and left the agents to think about the reality of what was going on and the lives that would end if they failed to meet his demands.
As he hung up, the agents picked up Amir and placed Agent Smith in contact with him.
“Amir, Agent Smith speaking. We’re trying to arrange that you speak with your cousin as soon as he calls back.”
“If you people try anything, I will let him know.”
“No one is going to try anything. We just want to bring an end to all of these people killing themselves and others in the process,” Agent Smith said, referring to the suicide bombers.
Agent Smith was on the phone at 10:45 a.m. as another agent signaled to make him aware that Rakman was calling again.
“Patch the call through to this line,” he said. Then he added, “Amir, we’re connecting you and your cousin now.”
“Rakman, we have your cousin on the line,” he said before he then allowed the men to speak.
“As-salamu alaykum, Amir.”
“Allah is great, and you, my cousin, not leaving me behind is a blessing in itself,” Amir said, feeling good about this possibility of freedom.
“Where are you now, Amir?”
“I’m on I-83 coming toward Harrisburg.”
“Okay! Agent Smith, have your men pull over once they get in the middle of the bridge. I know you have agents following this vehicle, so I want the agents in the truck with Amir to exit and leave my cousin alone. If anyone approaches or follows Amir, then I will have my men set off another explosion to a valuable asset to your country,” Rakman threatened before he hung up, knowing his time was running out to evade the trace.
The agents did as requested after the call. On the other hand, Jack Ross was pissed with the sudden plans.
“I didn’t see that coming. Get a chopper in the sky and tell the agents tailing to keep their distance.”
Rakman reached out to his men at the capitol building and redirected them to now go pick up Amir. They did just that, checking all of their fully automatic weapons. They were ready to protect Amir by any means. They did not want to let Rakman down. At the same time, they believed that all of this was in the name of Allah.
“It’s time for me to meet up with Amir,” Rakman said to his associate with him.
CHAPTER 25
AT 11:00 A.M. TWO all-black Yukon Denalis with dark tinted windows carrying two agents in each truck came to me up. “Inmate Tom Anderson. It’s time for your transfer.” This was a more secure and tight transfer. In fact, they were in and out, driving fast and alert.
Instinct is a muthafucka, America. There was something not right about the agents that came to get me. They didn’t even put a vest on me like they had previously done. Also, there were two trucks this time, when four were not enough the first time. Plus, the agent in the passenger seat kept looking back at me like I was the one with the gun.
The inside of the truck didn’t look anything like the other truck, and something was really up with these agents. Is this the CIA or somebody who thinks I really know something?
“Yo, where the fuck are y’all taking me?”
There was nothing but silence as they turned to each other and then ignored the shit out of me. My heart was beating a little faster now, because my hood instinct was telling me that shit was about to go south from here.
“Oh, you deaf or you need each other’s permission to speak? Is that your bitch or something?” I said, obviously pissing them off.
At the same time I leaned forward and saw that their IDs were bogus as a muthafucka. I looked down and braced myself mentally for what I was about to do, because I wasn’t about to let these fake-ass cop niggas get at me.
Suddenly it came to me. My cuffs. I raised my hands up over the passenger seat and wrapped the cuffs around this fake-ass nigga’s neck and choked him. He instantly started kicking around, feeling the air drain from his lungs.
“Shoot him! Shoot this asshole!” he managed to get out as I adjusted my grip.
“You muthafuckas is going to die for this shit!” I said while squeezing harder.
His face was showing it all, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He took his gun from the holster and tried to shoot me, but he feared the death that was coming his way fast. He started shooting recklessly. A few slugs raced through the air and slammed into the head of the driver in the front truck, killing him instantly and causing the truck to swerve violently before crashing. I squeezed harder. I wanted this nigga to die now because his wide shooting was causing slugs to fly past my head, and I was not feeling this shit. He shook violently once more as my grip tightened and the life escaped him, just as he let out a lifeless grunt. Right then his partner was reaching for his gun, so I ducked behind the driver’s seat making it hard for this nigga to take me out.
I was thinking about choking out this muthafucka, too, but that would mean crashing, and that wasn’t a good look. As those thoughts came to me, slugs pierced the driver’s door and hit him in the ribs.
“Son of a bitch!” the fake agent let out.
I looked out the window and saw that it was the little Spanish nigga I had contacted during my brief call, driving alongside the truck. His all-white Land Rover sat on 24s and had a faded mirror tint.
“Pull over, punta, ahora!” the Spanish nigga told him.
He did just that, knowing the end for him would be death if he did not. I had told the little Spanish homie I would give him one hundred stacks if he could cause a diversion or something.
With all of the fully automatic weapons pointed at this cat driving the van, he pulled over quickly. The little homie and his team jumped out and quick-rushed over to the truck, opening the back door. The other van driver, seeing that he didn’t have a chance against this crew, didn’t stop, but drove by sending a few bullets out the passenger window at us, without any collateral damage.
“Yo, Tommy Guns, you good, hermano?”
“Yeah, hurry up and get the key from this dead muthafucka right here.”
He got the key and quickly took off the cuffs. His team had guns pointing at this fake-ass cop.
Rico was the Spanish nigga I’m talking about. He was in the county with me before he made bail. The homie stood five foot eleven. He had slicked-back hair and brown eyes, and he was closely shaven and even had his eyebrows tweezed. That’s some Puerto Rican shit, but this nigga and his crew are real, and I fuck with that.
“Who put you and the rest of these fake-ass agents up to this?” I asked the fake cop.
I needed an answer quickly because we had to get the fuck out of there.
“Rakman Hussein promised us a quarter of a million each to bring you to him alive. I guess you’re that important to him?”
“That’s what his dumb ass thinks. Where the fuck is he?” I asked, wanting to kill him for the many attempts on my life.
“I don’t know where he is. He said he’d call this phone within the hour,” he responded while taking the phone from his pocket.
I snatched the phone from him and then looked back at him with murderous eyes.
“Was it worth it, you stupid muthafucka?”
Before he could respond, Rico blasted him with a headshot.
“Hermano, we don’t have time for this shit. Let’s go,” Rico said, running back to his truck.
We all jumped in ready to go. As we accelerated toward Harrisburg, Rico introduced me to his team.
“Hermano, this is my blood in/blood out crew. From right to left, my homeboy is Chino, who I’ve known since we were kids. Flaco is my little brother, a
nd Angel is my brother’s best friend. We keep a tight circle, you know.”
“Oye, that punta was scared once he seen us,” Angel said, all hyped up.
He really reminded me of a Spanish version of my cousin, Ace.
“Rico, I got y’all on the bread, too. I keep my word, you feel me?”
“I know, hermano. You connected for real, bro. Plus you about that money.”
“We going to spend that one hundred stacks on vacation, bro?” Angel said, thinking about all of the women he was going to be with while balling out of control.
“Puerto Rico is where we going with all of those crazy sexy-ass Latinas, bro,” Chino said with a smile.
Rico was merging onto the I-83 highway heading toward Harrisburg to take me to get my money, so I could look out for these niggas. I can’t lie. They really held me down, and if I could put a team together to take over a city, it would be with these cats.
As we were crossing the I-83 bridge, I noticed a truck off to the side with someone sitting in the driver’s seat. Where the truck was located was not normal, so it stood out since it was parked in the middle of the bridge. Oh shit, it’s that Arab muthafucka, Amir, I was thinking as we were passing by.
“What the fuck is he doing?” I said aloud.
“Who is that, hermano? He a problem or what?” Angel asked, with his gun at the ready.
“That’s Amir Hussein, the muthafucka that tried to kill me when the fellas came to get me from Dauphin County.”
“How is he out already? We can pull over, and back up all the way and kill him.”
“Fuck that piece of shit. We don’t have time for him. We got to get this money, and I got to get the fuck out of this city,” I said.
But it was crazy seeing this piece of shit. That’s why I knew they had different money.
“Rico, get off up there at the 13th Street exit,” I said.
All Eyez on Gunz Page 10