by CJ Lyons
“Plus they know the territory,” Walden added. He hobbled to the Tahoe’s passenger side door, opened it, and sank down into the seat. “Could be a help when you’re from out of town. And you get to use their foot soldiers, saves bringing in too many of your own men.”
Lucy nodded. “And if you had valuable hostages, the safest place to keep them would be—”
“In the middle of territory you or your partners controlled,” David finished for her. “You think Fatima and the baby are with the Rippers?”
“If so, that’s where they’ll be taking Raziq.”
“Pretty big territory,” Walden argued.
“I can narrow it down,” Jenna chimed in. Silence as they all looked at her. Finally she had their attention. “I tracked down the threats and the letter bomb to a few blocks radius.”
“How’d you do that?” David asked. “You’ve only been on the case a week.”
Honestly, by working practically nonstop—except for the few hours she could escape Morgan’s surveillance and go out at night. She didn’t tell him that. “I combined the areas where the physical letters were mailed with CC TV and traffic cam footage, weeded out the international ISP addresses—a bunch of false trails you’d already followed—and used GIS along with a program Taylor lent me to find the ISPs that were local. They’re all unsecured wifi that center on Ruby Avenue. But the undetonated device was the jackpot. A former gang banger with a Juvie record used that exact same bomb making signature when he was active eight years ago.”
“Let me guess,” Walden said. “He lives in Homewood.”
“His grandmother does. It’s the only address we have for him. Right in the middle of the Ruby Avenue ISPs I traced.”
Haddad leaned forward. “Are you talking about Andre Stone?”
“Yeah, that’s him. You know him?”
“He was one of the Marines I worked with in Kandahar. The guy was burned in the same explosion that almost killed me and Rashid. When he came to at the hospital he said it was Raziq who’d set up the ambush that killed his squad. But of course that was impossible. I think the blast scrambled his brains.”
“Does Stone have any ties to the cartel?” Lucy asked.
Jenna shrugged. “None that I saw. But I wasn’t looking for anything as big as this.”
They all were silent for a moment as the enormity of the destruction surrounding them sank in.
Lucy nodded to herself as if making a decision. “Jenna, you take Walden in the Tahoe,” Lucy ordered. Back to normal. “Give me your car keys. Haddad and I will take the Mustang.”
“Like hell you will,” Jenna protested.
David looked up, a sullen look on his face. “You and me? Where to? I’m not heading back to the Federal Building. I don’t care if you do outrank me.”
“I’m not giving up on Fatima and the baby.” Lucy said it as if daring anyone to challenge her.
“Or Rashid,” David put in.
“Or Rashid. We’ll check out the Rippers’ headquarters on Ruby Avenue. And this alleged bomb-maker’s granny’s house.”
His mouth dropped open. Then he closed it again. “Okay, then. That’s more like it.”
Chapter 18
To Lucy’s dismay, Jenna had insisted on Haddad being the one to drive her Mustang. His driving was worse than ever. Jerky, as if his mind drifted along with the car and he needed to pull them both back on course.
Lucy rolled down her window, inhaling the fresh, cold air. Sirens provided a constant background noise, surrounding them, but none were close. Helicopters zigzagged overhead. More news copters than law enforcement, unfortunately.
Because of the roads the Zapatas had blocked around the Communication Center, they’d been forced to go through a parking lot then wind their way along narrow residential avenues. For a Friday night the roads were eerily quiet. On many blocks the only signs of life were the holiday lights and the flickering of TV screens glimpsed through windows.
Haddad turned on the car stereo. Instead of music, there was the tone of an emergency broadcast alert. “We repeat, Pittsburgh and surrounding areas are under emergency curfew. Please remain off the streets and stay in your homes until further notice. 911 calls are being handled on a priority basis. Road closings include Parkway East and West, I-79, Fort Pitt Bridge and Tunnels, both inbound and outbound…” The list went on and on followed by event cancellations.
Word was out. Pittsburgh was under siege.
Haddad turned the radio down as the message began to repeat itself. Lucy gulped in air through the window, trying to settle her stomach. Her jaws clenched, activating her TMJ, pain spiking into both ears. She had a metallic taste in her mouth she couldn’t get rid of—the aftertaste of adrenalin.
The feeling of panic reminded her of last month when Morgan’s father had taken her. He’d used a stun gun on her, knowing exactly where to aim to cause the greatest amount of pain. She’d almost surrendered. Almost given up.
That weakness haunted her. She hadn’t told anyone about what happened in the back of that van—not Nick, not the FBI counselor, certainly not her boss or anyone on her team. The official report skimmed over those moments of terror in dispassionate bureaucratic terms: Subject overpowered this agent, removed her service weapon and cellular communication device, and restrained her with handcuffs in the back of subject’s van.
Too bad she couldn’t translate her nightmares into equally dry language.
“I didn’t get his name.” She broke the silence first.
Haddad almost ran them into the curb. “Who?”
“The deputy. I couldn’t read his name. His badge was smeared with blood.”
Silence. “Someone will know.”
“Sixty families.” Despair colored her voice. “I should have listened. When you said the Zapatas would think nothing of murdering civilians. As soon as that tanker blew, I should have evacuated the Communications Center, called—”
“Called who? Zones Four and Five were down. All the rapid response teams, county, local, even our guys, were running around the city trying to put out fires and stop tunnels and bridges and hockey games from being blown up. Who were you going to call?”
He had a point. But it didn’t make her feel any better. “I’m sorry about Raziq. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
“You wanted someone to blame and he’s an easy target. I get it.” His tone was bitter. As if he’d been on the receiving end himself.
“Why take his family? Why make things so complicated?” Lucy asked. She knew the cartels used kidnapping to extort money and favors, but those were simple transactions that ended up with most of the victims dead whether the ransom was paid or not.
They didn’t need all this elaborate staging. Killing the girls first, setting an ambush timed to the bombing of the Communications Center… It felt like too much, over the top, even for a cartel trying to create shock and awe. Diversionary tactics. “Why not just take him on the quiet? What do they really want?”
Haddad’s answer was grim. “Maybe they want to make an example out of him. Victor Zapata has perfected the art of terror. You know how he disposes of bodies he doesn't want found? He takes them to a field, has his men prepare them like they're butchering a cow, then feeds them to his very own flock of vultures."
She didn't believe it for a moment. "No way. That's just what he wants you to believe. Building himself into a legend."
"Nightmare is more like it. But it's true. I saw it. All caught on a surveillance camera. They drive up and the vultures start gathering. Hundreds of them. Just watching and waiting. I have no idea how he trained them, but it's spooky to watch. His men slice open the bodies, take a sledgehammer to the skull so the birds can get to the brains, then they signal the vultures." He shuddered. It took him a moment before he continued, "Ten minutes later, there's nothing left."
Lucy hugged herself against a sudden chill but she didn't close her window. She needed all the fresh air she could get.
“That mig
ht work in Mexico, but it’s not going to work here,” she said with a bravado she didn't feel.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“You really believe that? A Mexican drug cartel could come into a US city like Pittsburgh and just, just own it?”
“Like I said before, all they need is one night, a few hours, and a little help from the media to win.” He nodded to the radio. “Which means we’ve already lost.”
She let that sink in. Exhaustion weighed her down and she struggled against it. “I guess the only question is, are we going to let them get away with it?”
For the first time since she’d met him, he smiled. “Hell no.”
They pulled onto Fifth Avenue, heading north towards Homewood. Despite the curfew, she was surprised there was no traffic on the major thoroughfare. Of course, given how widespread the cartel’s attacks were, people would have no idea which roads would be safe. But this road led past Zone Five’s station house. Surely there’d be some first responders using it.
Haddad turned to look at her. “Why didn’t you send Jenna with me? Because you don’t trust me? Or maybe you don’t trust her?”
Lucy didn’t tell him the answer to both questions was yes.
“Did you see a lot of,” she searched for words, “this kind of thing when you were in Afghanistan? Like what happened to those schoolgirls the Taliban killed?” Like sixty innocent civilians slaughtered.
He didn’t answer for a long time. “We were mainly search and seizure,” Haddad finally said, his voice distant. “The Marines took care of clearing any militants before I went in. But yeah. I saw a few IEDs go off. You don’t get used to it, not really. You just kind of block it out. Say to yourself: I’m not dead, therefore everything’s okay. Then something does happen to you or guys you know and—” He trailed off, his hand going to the scar on his forehead. “Suddenly everything’s not okay. And you wonder if it will ever be okay again.”
She blew her breath out. It was exactly how she felt after last month. It was why she'd never talked to anyone about it: talking made it real and she’d much rather deny it ever happened.
The cell lines were jammed, but she kept dialing until finally she got through to Nick’s phone. Straight to voicemail, again. She was surprised he hadn’t called or texted, asking her where she was.
“Hey, it’s me.” She hesitated. She couldn’t bring herself to let him know she was headed into the worst neighborhood in Pittsburgh searching for the leader of a violent Mexican cartel, her backup a DEA agent with a personal agenda.
“I’m sorry. I need to cancel tonight. I’m sure you saw what’s happening.” In the side view mirror flames danced behind them. “Do me a favor and stay home. I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” If she lived that long. Shit. He was going to hear the panic in her voice if she wasn’t careful. Nick was good at listening. Sometimes too good. “Love you. Bye.”
She hung up before she blurted out a warning for him to be careful. Funny, usually it was Nick telling her that.
Haddad was taking advantage of the lack of traffic and driving faster than the posted limit by a good fifteen miles an hour. They rounded a slight curve leading past the Port Authority bus garages and approached the tunnel under the railroad tracks and Busway. Too late the Mustang’s headlights caught the hulking silhouette of a dump truck stopped inside the tunnel, its lights off.
“Look out!” Lucy called out.
The truck was angled to block both lanes. Haddad slammed on the brakes. The Mustang skidded, bounced over debris in the road, ended up sideways, the edge of the truck bed scraping along Lucy’s door, metal shrieking.
“What the hell?” Haddad shouted, hitting the horn out of frustration. The noise echoed between the walls of the tunnel.
The truck was obviously deserted, left as a roadblock. Its hydraulic bed was elevated, the top edge wedged against the low hanging ceiling, its payload of broken concrete, rebar, and other construction debris emptied all over the road.
“Back up, turn around,” she ordered. The Mustang’s wheels spun as he shoved the gearshift down. “That’s neutral.”
Haddad cursed and rammed the car into reverse. Rocks pinged against the windshield as bits of brick and stone bounced against the Mustang. The wheels spun then caught, bouncing them over the debris scattered across the pavement.
“You said this was the quickest way into Homewood,” Haddad said as he finished the U-turn.
“Turn right.” She told him.
“You mean left. We need to take Meade down to Braddock.”
“Too close to the 911 Center. They’ll have it shut down.”
He slowed the car. “So where are we going?”
“You want to catch them, don’t you? Just turn. Now.” She pointed to the sign that read: No entry. Buses only.
He took the turn so fast the momentum threw her against the car door. They hugged the concrete barrier, ascending the on-ramp in a steep semicircle, and ended up on the Busway. It was a two-lane highway crossing the heart of the city—and without traffic since the buses would have been sidelined because of the emergency.
She felt sorry for all the commuters left stranded in the December night, but buses made for easy targets to carry bombs. Too risky to keep them running.
Lucy shivered and rolled up her window, not liking this change in her thinking. She grew up near here, had jumped at the chance to bring her family back here, raise her daughter here. Yet now she was thinking of the city as the enemy, its inhabitants targets or terrorists.
If you thought that way, Homewood was the perfect place for a cartel to plant roots. Only a few blocks north of where they were now, it could have been an Afghanistan war zone in comparison to the quiet street where the Raziqs lived. Homewood was already so dangerous with the rival drug gangs fighting for turf that school buses wouldn’t enter and firefighters and EMS responded only with police escorts.
She understood what Haddad meant about the main war being a psychological one. A fight for emotional dominance.
Even though she was a trained and seasoned professional, even though she’d risked her life on the job, hell, had even killed a man, even though she wouldn’t be on the front lines of the urban warfare sure to follow tonight’s events, she still wondered if she would stay in Pittsburgh. She had her family to think of—would she risk them just for her job?
If she couldn’t help thinking that, how many others would also hesitate? Pittsburgh already had a shortage of police and first responders. How many would stay to face an enemy who wouldn’t think twice about targeting them and their families?
Suddenly all the news of the bloodshed and violence in Mexico felt very close to home. She’d promised Nick she’d avoid high-risk field operations. And she’d meant to keep that promise, she really had. But who could have predicted something like this?
Haddad gunned the Mustang. He seemed to have gotten a new surge of energy now that they were getting close to Raziq—or at least to where they hoped Raziq was. “How do we get off this thing?”
“Up ahead, there’s a ramp down near Brushton Avenue.”
“Ready to go take on Pittsburgh’s nastiest gang? Along with the Zapatas?”
Lucy finished reloading their weapons and shoved all the spare ammo into her pockets or the ones on Haddad’s vest. “Sure. Nothing better to do on a Friday night.”
He gave a grunt that sounded like something from a war movie. But that’s where they were headed. Into war.
<><><>
Medcontrol 3RMC: Attention, attention. This is Three Rivers Medical Center. We have a credible bomb threat, repeat a credible bomb threat. Requesting Code Gray implementation. We need all available ambulances to transport critical patients as we evacuate. All incoming traffic both emergency and nonemergency to be diverted to Presbyterian. We are evacuating the medical center. Please advise with ETA of police and ambulances. Angels 1, 2, 3 are starting evacuation via helicopter.
Angel 1: Medcontrol, we are liftin
g off from Three Rivers, destination Presbyterian. Five souls on board.
Medcontrol 3RMC: Copy that, Angel 1. Angel 2 prepare for landing as soon as the pad is clear.
Angel 2: Roger.
NIMS Incident Command: Medcontrol we have two State Police helos headed your way to aid with the evacuation as well as their Bomb Squad.
Medcontrol: ETA?
NIMS Incident Command: Fourteen minutes out. Proceed with evacuation but if you find any suspicious objects do not approach. Repeat, do not approach.
Medcontrol: Understood.
Chapter 19
Police cars, EMS, and fire trucks choked the northbound lanes on Braddock, heading towards the 911 Center. Too little, too late.
Thankfully Jenna and Walden were headed south. All they had to worry about were a few civilian drivers dawdling as they rubbernecked, trying to figure out what all the commotion was about and which way was the safest to get home.
Some genius had turned all the traffic lights on the main streets flashing amber, leaving the secondary roads congested, but keeping traffic moving for first responders. Jenna made good use of the Tahoe's lights and siren.
Walden monitored the NIMS channel as well as the local police frequencies. Jenna figured it was a good sign that he was thinking clearly enough to help despite the blood that had saturated the pressure dressing again.
“Three Rivers is evacuating,” he told her just as she was about to turn down Penn Avenue toward the medical center. “We’ll need to go to Presby. Zone Five is still pinned down by snipers. Local SWAT is on scene. Bomb threats all over the city: hospitals, synagogues, college dorms, even a high school hockey tournament.”
“They had all spring to study our playbook on that,” Jenna replied. Right before finals, Pitt University had been plagued with bomb scares. There'd been over a hundred evacuations requiring multi-agency responses before they ended. Not her case, the FBI had taken the lead.