by Chase Austin
He looked at the assistant and asked softly. “You sure of this?”
“One hundred percent.”
“Okay. Keep me posted.”
“Yes, sir.” The man took an about-turn and with the same urgency exited the room, closing the door behind him.
Mattis waited for the door to be closed and then looked back at everyone. “We have just confirmed the IDs of the terrorists in the Philadelphia attack,” he said.
“And?” Raborn asked.
“Americans. All of them.”
Chapter 27
Time: Four and a half hours since the attack
Wick and Eddie sat in silence watching Basit’s unconscious body, held by a seat belt, lolling both ways. They had to leave Josh Fletcher, the CIA agent Wick and Eddie were tasked to extract from the Taliban stronghold in Zangabad, at the military hospital. The doctors had refused to give him permission to travel. But for Basit it was different. They had orders to take him with them, and no doctor could stop them. After tending to him with basic First Aid, they had taken the next C-17, a military aircraft, for getting out of Afghanistan.
Getting in and out of a country like Afghanistan wasn’t as simple as taking a flight from any city. To get out, US troops had to travel in a military aircraft to a nearby country and then take a chartered flight the rest of the way. The total flight duration was nearly fifteen to seventeen hours, depending on the weather and many other factors.
Wick and Eddie, after a journey of four and a half hours, had finally landed in Romania, from where a chartered flight was ready to take them to USA. All this while, they had no access to the Internet, or any other communication modes. Although they hoped to get a chance to hook onto a network at Romania’s airport, what they didn’t know was that they would not be ushered inside of the airport building but would be taken directly to their chartered plane.
The journey to Romania had been uneventful. Basit was unconscious and Wick and Eddie hoped that the interrogation team in America would be able to extract some more information from him once they get hold of him. But right now, all they wanted was some sort of network connectivity to get an update on the attack Basit had spoken about. What they didn’t know was that as soon as they had hopped on to the aircraft, the first bomb had gone off.
During their flight of four and a half hours, America was drowned in unimaginable chaos.
They had hoped that when they landed in Romania, they would learn that everything was under control, as they had relayed everything to the best-positioned person in the bureaucracy echelon, Helms. They had no idea that the tables had been turned upside down for Helms.
At Romania’s airport, they were escorted to the chartered flight that was ready to take off with its three passengers – Wick, Eddie, and Basit on a wheelchair. Wick and Eddie walked together while an airport attendant pushed the wheelchair. At the beginning of the aircraft’s stairs, four security personals stood in attention. Wick and Eddie watched them with curiosity.
“Your IDs, please.” One of the four security personnel asked of them. Wick and Eddie each took out one of their many fake passports and extended it to the security. The man checked both their IDs keenly and once satisfied, he handed them back to Wick and Eddie. “Thank you, Mr. Alex, Mr. Charlie. Please transfer any weapons that you have into this bag. We will move them to the luggage section.” He extended an open, small black bag towards them.
“Is this necessary?” Eddie asked.
“Mr. Charlie, this is only for your own safety.”
“I feel safe only with my gun by my side.”
“Sir, without this we cannot let you board this flight. Protocols are important as you yourself understand.”
Eddie wanted to say something in return, but Wick placed his right hand on his shoulder. Eddie zipped his mouth. Wick took out two guns and slowly dropped in the opened bag.
“Thank you, Mr. Alex. Magazines too.”
Wick took out five magazines and dropped them in the bag without a word. The man moved the bag in front of Eddie who did the same, with a sour face.
The man looked at unconscious Basit.
“Be my guest,” Eddie hissed with sarcasm.
“We are good.” The man said and moved aside, giving them way to board the plane. The other security personnel followed suit.
Once inside, they looked back at the men through the window. One of them was instructing the only stewardess of the plane about where to put the bag, and to hand it over to them as soon as they landed in America. Wick saw the stewardess nodding politely at the instructions. With butterflies in his stomach, he only came back to his seat once the door of the plane was shut and it started to move towards the runway.
The stewardess approached them with a short summary of the safety protocols. She was only going to serve three passengers, and it was better to tell them everything in person rather than doing the whole routine. At the end of it, she looked at Basit who was strapped to a seat belt, his head lolling.
Eddie’s fierce stare silenced any question she may have wanted to ask regarding Basit, and she only asked them if they needed anything to eat or drink. Eddie answered her without looking at Wick. He knew Wick would have said no and Eddie couldn’t stay hungry for the rest of the flight.
Wick, sitting in the next row, opened the Toughbook to check the news. While they were on the ground, he had hoped the Internet would work. So he had already plugged in the DoD designed mini device in the USB panel to connect to the Internet. As soon as the news websites started to open, the first thing that hit him was the body count. More than two thousand dead and the attacks were still continuing. He looked back at Eddie who was already gazing at him to ask if he needed anything to eat, but Wick’s expression soon mirrored on his face.
What? Eddie asked silently.
Something was wrong.
“Thank you,” he said to the stewardess, while quickly getting up from his seat to walk towards Wick. Wick shifted his gaze back at the Toughbook and Eddie followed suit.
“What the hell!” Eddie exclaimed as soon as he scanned the headlines.
Wick responded with silence. His eyes were busy scanning the news report for more details, trying to figure out the modus operandi of the terrorists. Eddie sat beside him as the stewardess came back again to ask them to buckle their seat belts, blissfully unaware what was going in the other part of the planet. Wick and Eddie absent-mindedly buckled their seat belts while slowly digesting each bit of the news report.
They then checked their emails. There were none. No one in the TF-77 except Helms knew that Wick and Eddie were on their way to USA since their return was not planned for months. Helms himself had arranged every logistics with some help from Wick’s handler, Riley. Wick decided to send a message to Riley whom he knew was obsessed with checking her email every second minute and was very prompt in her response. So, before the connection might get lost, he needed to drop her a one-liner email, which he did. “Need details of attacks; esp. Houston and Manhattan. Need a support team on standby in both cities.” Then he hit the send button. The page loaded for a few seconds before it showed the notification that the email was gone.
The plane had left the taxiway and was ready to take off. The two pilots were checking the systems one last time when they got an emergency message. Effective immediately, all USA airports are closed for any incoming or outgoing flights due to ongoing terror attacks.
The pilots did not have time to think about the why or the how. They had received the notification from the ATC and even though it was not for them specifically, there was no point in flying to a country where they could not land.
The captain looked at the first officer and said, “We need to inform our guests that they might have to spend some more time in Romania.”
“Let me give this news personally to them,” the first officer offered.
The captain nodded. “I will start turning the plane back to the hangar.”
Wick had already started trying to fig
ure out the strategy behind these attacks. ‘Why these cities and why these locations?’ He closed his eyes and imagined himself in the place of the terrorists. If he had to plan an attack like this, what would he do and why? By the looks of it, the militants had come ready for shoot and scoot. But something was amiss. Something wasn’t making sense. He jerked his head back and forth, rubbed his forehead to get it out, but nothing.
The first officer was addressing them now, “Gentlemen, we have just received an information bulletin. All the airports in USA are closed for any takeoff or landing, until further notice. We have to get back to the hangar and unfortunately you’ll have to wait in Romania till the coast is clear.”
Subconsciously, hearing the first officer speak, something clicked within Wick. The team in Houston would have to be the most prepared one. Once they got in, they would wait till the coast was clear. Using the hostages, they might get a section of media on their side. He had seen this happening in a hostage situation like this. The rest of them might come with the intention of ‘destroy and move’ but this team in the Onyx had to come with the intention to stay put. The longer this standoff continued, the more the terrorists would gain. Wick’s thoughts solidified with each passing second.
“We will head to Houston,” he spoke loudly.
The first officer was surprised. Wasn’t he clear earlier? “Sir, we cannot land in USA.”
Wick looked absentmindedly at the first officer. The stewardess stood behind him. Wick’s hand moved fast and unbuckled his seat belt. In a fluid motion, he rose from his seat and took a step forward. His right hand swiftly slid inside Basit’s coat and when it reappeared, a Berretta was shining in the reflective lighting.
He pointed the barrel at the first officer, looking into his eyes. He asked, “Can a single pilot fly this plane?”
“Sir!” The first officer had suddenly started to sweat. A shriek escaped from the stewardess. Eddie looked at her and raised his finger to his lips to signal silence.
“Can one pilot fly this thing?” Wick repeated his question.
“Yes…sir.”
“That means we don’t need one of you.” He cocked the gun.
“S…sir!” The first officer stuttered.
“Eddie, tell the captain that you will be his first officer and we are taking off for Houston now. If he says no, then you know what you have to do.”
Eddie walked towards the cockpit.
Wick tilted his head and looked at the stewardess who stood there, stunned into silence. “Ma’am, you should sit down and strap yourself. We are about to take off.”
“You too, if you don’t want to die.” Wick signaled the first officer to follow suit, and he complied too.
After a hiatus of ten excruciatingly long minutes, the plane started to move, and it meant that Eddie had done his job. But Wick had to tell someone in his team that they were heading for Houston. He grabbed his Toughbook and started typing, while keeping an eye on his two new hostages. “We are heading for Houston from Romania. Help us land safely. Need a support team outside the airport. Send the team’s details. Need weapons. Only precautionary measures. Inform Helms.” He plugged in the chartered flight’s details and pressed send. He could now only sit and hope that the attacks would probably be contained, at the least, by the time they would land.
Chapter 28
Bellevue Hospital Center, Manhattan
Forty-year-old Doctor Reid Adams was at the end of a lifesaving surgery when the OT’s lights went off. He looked at Kevin and Brian, the two doctors assisting him and Martha and Patricia, the two nurses in the OT, and they seemed confused too. No one had any idea of what was happening on the first floor of the hospital. Reid signaled Martha to go out and check if it was just the OT or the whole floor.
Martha nodded and walked towards the door. She pushed the door open. Outside, the hallway was dark and deserted.
‘It’s only afternoon,’ she thought to herself.
“Security!” she yelled, and immediately she heard footsteps in the direction, where she knew there were stairs. She closed the door behind her and impulsively turned towards the faint sound. A couple of seconds later, a man appeared at the far end of the hallway, at the edge of the stairs. In the dark, it took her a moment to realize that the man was neither a patient nor one of her colleagues. Something that looked like a gun hung from his right shoulder, its barrel pointing at the floor. The man too saw the silhouette of a petite woman standing in the hallway, unsure. Without warning, he leveled the barrel at her.
Dr. Reid had decided to follow Martha out to investigate the reason for the lights out, and he was just about to open the door when his hand froze at the doorknob. Successive gunshots in the hallway had shattered the silence. He looked at the other three, Patricia, Kevin, and Brian, and found his own fear reflected in their eyes.
“What the hell is going on?” Patricia asked no one in particular. Her tone was hushed.
“I don’t know, but we’re getting out of here. Move it! Kevin, lock the main door. We’re taking the back stairs.” Dr. Reid had involuntarily taken the responsibility of getting the four of them to safety. The three of them followed Dr. Reid to the back door of the operation theater, reserved only for the medical staff.
Every hospital had rooms, doors, and stairs, only available to the staff. The visitors or the patients had no idea about these. There were no signages either to help them identify these ‘officials only’ pathways. Dr. Reid hoped that whoever was shooting in the hallway was one of the lunatics high on TV shows and loneliness and would leave them alone if he found the rooms locked.
“This isn’t going to work...we better use the elevator,” Kevin said.
“Shh.” Dr. Reid put his right finger on his lips. “What the hell is that sound?” They all stopped in their tracks and listened hard. And then they saw it, a cat. They heaved a collective sigh of relief.
Kevin heard Brian faltering on his feet. “Brian, you okay?” he asked. Brian was getting breathless and almost collapsed on the floor, his head in his hands. No one knew what it was, could be a mild panic attack, but they had no time to find out either.
“Calm down, you’re going to be alright.” Dr. Reid spoke carefully, making sure to keep his voice down.
In the parallel corridor, they heard footsteps clanking on the floor and they looked at each other with fear. Brian heard them too. He was already trying hard to soothe his nerves, but his fear had returned with extreme ferocity.
“We’ll be fine. Now, let’s hurry.” Dr. Reid encouraged Brian, when a door not far from them opened and a hand grenade rolled over in their corridor.
Run!
Dr. Reid helped Brian get up. Kevin clutched Patricia’s arm and started to run in the opposite direction. He opened the first door he found unlocked and pushed Patricia inside. Reid and Brian entered behind her followed by Kevin who then quickly shut the door behind him. The grenade blast rocked the corridor behind, but quick thinking and the steel door had saved them by a whisker.
It was a general ward and the four of them stood in silence in the darkness. No one moved. The fear of getting caught was very real. As their eyes got accustomed to this new dark, they started to lie on their bellies and crawled underneath the beds. If they’d made no sound, they possibly would be able to get out of this nightmare, alive.
Lying on the floor, Kevin checked on the others while looking in every direction he could possibly check while keeping his head down. And then a face appeared out of nowhere in front of him. A familiar face. Mr. Quinn, a man in his seventies and suffering from dementia, was on the floor like Kevin. Quinn’s eyes rested on Kevin, maybe he was trying to recognize him, but Kevin knew that he wouldn’t be able to even if he wanted. His brain cells had already stopped giving a shit about faces a long time ago. Quinn, like Kevin, had no idea why the gunshots, but he knew that it wasn’t good. So maybe he himself thought of cowering under his own bed or maybe someone from the hospital staff had helped him. Whatever it was, Qui
nn was at least hidden. The only problem, his bed was the one nearest to the main door. Kevin signaled Quinn to crawl towards him with both hands, just to make him get away from the door, but Quinn got further confused. There was only one way to get Quinn, to crawl up to him and drag him to safety.
Kevin was mulling his options when the door near Quinn’s bed opened. A set of boots, boots that were not of the hospital staff, approached the first bed, the very bed under which Quinn was hiding. Kevin knew that the boots were not friendly, but Quinn had no idea, and he crawled towards them.
Quinn sobbed, “Doctor help me! I don’t know why I’m on the floor. Do you know where my wife is?”