The Nick Lawrence Series

by Brian Shea

  Khaled had learned through information gathered by The Seven’s extensive sources that Wilks had moved to Colorado Springs after getting out of the military. Wilks had become the owner of a medicinal marijuana dispensary in the downtown area. He only had one child, a teenage boy. Wilks was divorced but from the surveillance camera installed outside of the house, it appeared that he spent a lot of time with the boy.

  Khaled called one of the two numbers in his phone. He could hear the rhythmic click of the encrypted line. Routed to its destination, ringing only once before it was answered. The person on the other end of the line waited silently for him to speak. “Is it confirmed?” Khaled asked simply.

  “Yes. Your new identification and vehicle registration will be at the apartment. The Technician has supplied the other items that you requested and they are secured in a false wall under the kitchen sink.” Khaled wondered if the man on the other end even understood what was going on or if he was just reading a script supplied by The Seven. It didn’t matter. Those details were beyond his control. And therefore, superfluous.

  “Then Saturday is a go. Everything is on schedule,” Khaled confirmed.

  Just as Khaled was about to hang up, the voice on the other end of the line said, “What was your delay to leave? You should have been on the road yesterday.”

  Khaled took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, clearing the anger from his voice. “I had something come up. It was nothing that I can’t resolve at a later date.” Click and the phone call was ended. They serve me.

  There was a cleanness to the air around him. During his first reconnaissance visit to Colorado Springs, Khaled had experienced some difficulty adjusting to the elevation and dryness. He suffered from headaches and nosebleeds but found that drinking the local tap water helped. During Khaled’s operator training, he’d learned that he was quite athletic. As an academic and later the village’s school teacher, sports had held no interest to him. But after Sonia’s death, he realized that a change was needed, and the Dust Devil was born.

  Khaled enjoyed hiking on challenging terrain and found his current location to be reminiscent of the Cheekha Dar mountain training grounds. Colorado Springs, or the Springs as the locals called it, provided some excellent trails to explore. The foothills of the Rocky Mountains were temperate, and the views were breathtaking. I will move out here when this is all done. If I can manage to survive the next few weeks.

  Khaled arrived early, but he saw that some of the event planners were already moving about the grassy expanse of Memorial Park. He hung the staff parking pass from his rearview mirror and exited his Honda. The license plates had been changed since his arrival and by DMV standards his vehicle and driver’s license were valid. The level of detail that The Seven had put into his backstory and credentials was beyond his expectations.

  The identification card encased in plastic hanging from the lanyard around his neck listed his credentials as the safety inspector. Khaled entered under the awning flapping in the light breeze of the cool mountain air. It read ”Welcome to the Labor Day Launch.” It was a Colorado Springs tradition going back forty plus years. The colorful hot air balloons were a symbolic icon of Colorado and adorned many postcards and billboards throughout the state. It was a free event that drew thousands of locals and tourists each year. An impressive sight to behold.

  “Good morning, “Khaled said as he passed by several of the behind-the-scenes personnel. They waved to him and smiled. Nice people, he thought. “Just doing a once over on the tethering lines before the crowds get in here.” One of the passing staffers responded by giving him the thumbs up.

  This morning’s launch would be an event simultaneously releasing over seventy balloons. Khaled walked over to a row of deflated balloons and began inspecting the lines. He was actually ensuring the devices that he had attached to seven of these monstrous contraptions were still in place. He’d been on location the previous night and assisted in the preparations for today’s event. Darkness still shrouded the grounds as the sun hadn’t begun its morning ascent. All in place.

  The challenge for the Technician was the effective range of the detonator. Khaled was initially told that he would need to be in one of the balloons for it to work. This was impossible. Khaled had a debilitating fear of heights and demanded an alternate solution. As always, the Technician came through. Hand-held walkie-talkies were used by several of the staff members. One of these had been converted into the detonator and the long antenna enabled the Technician to give Khaled the range he needed so that he could remain on the ground. The other challenge for the Technician was creating a container for the explosive that could withstand the heat from the balloons’ flame until detonation. That too had been accomplished by the genius of his gifted friend.

  The seven balloons targeted for destruction were intermingled with the others. It was done intentionally to add to the shock value. One of the balloons held special significance for Khaled. The Technician was aware of his side projects and did not approve. This was why Khaled had the Technician send him the needed materials in advance for his next two operations in the event that he got cold feet. Some assurances were in place to continue the Technician’s support, but Khaled believed in redundancy.

  The crowds began pouring in. Sounds of the propane supported flames roared to life with each balloon’s crew doing their part in preparation for the sunrise launch. Khaled stood back, scanning the field until he saw who he was looking for.

  “Pretty cool huh?” Wilks had asked his son.

  “Yeah,” Wilks’s son, Trevor, said nonchalantly. He had hit that cool-guy stage of his teenage years but was never disrespectful. Wilks knew that Trevor was excited because he saw his facial reaction when the invitation arrived. Wilks had assumed that it was a bullshit marketing scheme, but when he called the number on the postcard stating that he’d won a free balloon ride, he learned that it was a legit offer.

  Wilks got excited when Trevor asked if he could bring another person on the ride. The two were close, but as teenage boys and dads go they had grown a bit distant lately. Wilks asked, and the balloon people said that one guest was acceptable. Then Trevor immediately asked his best friend Adam. Wilks didn’t show it, but the blow to his heart was heavy. He had hoped that the plus one request would be used for him and was disappointed when Trevor chose to bring his friend.

  “Dude, check out that chick,” Adam mumbled to Trevor.

  “I know, right? She was totally checking me out.” The two boys pushed at each other, pretending to square off.

  Trevor didn’t lack for confidence, but neither had Wilks back in the day. He was glad to see that this quality had rubbed off on his son.

  “Alright studs, let’s get over to your balloon before you go off and get married.” Wilks said this just a bit too loud and could see that his son’s face flashed with a hint of embarrassment. He redirected them and pointed to the balloon. “There it is.”

  Trevor and Adam walked a few feet ahead of Wilks, pretending to be there on their own. Wilks laughed to himself, wondering if he had been as awkward around his parents when he was this age.

  The boys entered the large basket that fit six additional people. The teenagers stood with the group listening to a safety briefing from the pilot. Wilks noted a trace of fear on his son’s face but also observed that he hid it well. Just as Wilks had done many times before in his previous life. Like father, like son. Wilks never pressed his son to follow in his footsteps, but watching him standing there, he was confident that he could do it.

  “So, what do you think?” Izzy had just finished passing along Declan’s request to be involved in the case onto Nick.

  Nick rubbed his head and looked at his partner. “Nelson is going to throw a fit.” The thought of this brought a smile to his face. “I’m in. I’ll make the call.”

  “Well, Nelson put you in charge. It’s your show to run and in my humble opinion you should be able to pick your team.”

  “True. Hopefully, our polit
ician of a boss will see it that way.” Nick said this with a hint of optimism.

  Nick also had an ulterior motive for his decision to vouch for Declan’s assistance. He wasn’t quite ready to share his thoughts with his trusted partner just yet. Nick felt that bringing Enright into the hunt for the Translator would give him an opportunity to monitor him more closely. It wasn’t lost on him that a man of Enright’s skill happened to be a member of the recently robbed Clover Leaf Bank and that he drove a red Corolla.

  The call went as expected. Nelson had initially balked at the idea, mostly due to Declan’s recent termination as a police officer. Nick laid out the facts surrounding the shooting and the political fallout that ended Declan’s career. If anyone understood this process it would be Nelson, but Nick also knew that deep down his boss sided with the troops on the ground. Nick had also discussed the military skill set that Declan possessed without going into detail or compromising Jay’s trust in him about the Alpha One info. Nelson authorized Declan to be brought in as a consultant only, and that he was to remain clear of any fieldwork. Nick had agreed to the terms even though he wasn’t sure that he would be able to follow them.

  “He’s in. Consultant status only, but we will keep him close.” Nick looked at Izzy’s face. She seemed excited, almost happy. “You can call your new boyfriend and let him know the good news,” Nick said this jokingly but felt a note of jealousy just beneath its surface.

  “Don’t worry, he’s married.” Izzy said this with a playful batting of her eyes.

  Declan was excited when he received the call from Izzy. He had already packed two bags. One with enough clothing to get him through a week and the other duffle contained his gear. Hoisting the bags to his shoulder as he walked out to the waiting Impala, he felt like he was heading out on deployment again. He looked back at Val and his three daughters. When Abigail and Ripley had come home from school to the charred driveway and empty space where the minivan was normally parked, they were concerned, but he and Val told them that the car had malfunctioned. No need to scare them. Declan registered the look of despair on their faces when he told them about leaving to work with the FBI on a case. They were very perceptive. He did his best to quell their nerves, telling them that it was a good thing. He kissed his two eldest. He moved in to lay a gentle kiss on Laney’s forehead. She turned to the side. Maybe it was her way of showing that she understood his departure and was upset by it. He hated leaving them all, but Laney in particular. Declan told them he would be back soon. A promise he intended to keep.

  Ripley started to cry. She was the most emotional of his three girls. Declan kneeled face to face with her in a futile attempt to console her. Val intervened and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, signaling that she would deal with it. Declan stood and held Val in a tight embrace. He was single when he was in the service and now felt a new-found respect for those who deployed leaving behind their families.

  Val had told the girls that they were going on a trip to Georgia to visit their Aunt Gretchen, Val’s sister. The FBI had contacted the U.S. Marshals service and arranged for a protection detail to be assigned to Enright’s family until the Translator could be located.

  U. S. Marshal Whitney Rodgers had been tasked to Val and the girls. Declan immediately liked her when they met. Whitney had been a competition shooter long before she joined the Marshals. Beyond her resume, she was loud and outgoing and didn’t appear to take any shit from anyone. Whitney was born and raised in Augusta, Georgia, and was elated when she learned that Val’s sister lived in Martinez. Rodgers got approval for the family to go. They planned to depart shortly after Declan.

  “Jesus, what did you throw in the trunk? A small elephant?” Nick jested as Declan entered the small government vehicle.

  “Just some odds and ends.” Declan broke into a slight grin.

  “Khaled is the name of the man we are looking for,” Declan announced, adjusting himself to the confining space of the Impala’s back seat.

  “So, all we have is the first name?” Izzy asked.

  “Yes. That photograph I sent you yesterday is the only one that I could locate using my sources. Otherwise, he’s a ghost.” Declan didn’t like people that he couldn’t find. It was a disadvantage that left him feeling unbalanced.

  “I already sent it to someone I trust that may be able to provide some insight. Nelson has a copy as well and it will be circulated in law enforcement circles, but I doubt it will be released to the public. We don’t want to spook our bad guy and alert him of the manhunt,” Nick said as he looked at Declan through the rearview mirror, gauging if he agreed with this tactic. Declan nodded his approval.

  “Does the Bureau have any leads on where we think he may be hiding?” Declan wanted to find the Translator and share the contents of his heavy duffel bag with him.

  “No idea. Hopefully, my friend will get back to me soon with something for us to work with. As of right now, we are flying blind.”

  29

  The National Anthem had just finished being sung by a rising country music star that Khaled did not know of or care about. He was focused intently on the speaker’s words that followed the crowd’s cheers. “Fly high and enjoy the sky,” the announcer proclaimed over the loudspeaker, and the tethering ropes were released. The glow of the canopies lit the cloud-covered dawn. The colorful dance had begun as the massive balloons began their gentle ascent.

  He focused on one balloon. The massive rainbow-colored canopy made it impossible to miss. Inside he could see Wilks’s son giving a slight wave to his father on the ground. Unbeknownst to them this would be the last communication the two would ever have.

  Most of the hot air balloons had made their slow climb into the morning’s light. Some of the teams were still on the ground, but the seven target ones were airborne. The walkie-talkie was held up to Khaled’s ear as if he was listening to someone. He keyed the push-to-talk button on the side activating the detonator.

  Simultaneously the seven wicker baskets erupted in flames. The effect was immediate and devastating. Screams of the onlookers below rippled across the grassy expanse of the park. Cell phones recorded the tragedy that was unfolding before their eyes. Khaled watched intently—focused solely on only one bystander’s reaction to this event. Jeremiah Wilks.

  Wilks said nothing. The horror of what he was witnessing had dropped him to his knees, Khaled observed only twenty feet away, as the former SEAL crumpled on the grassy field in helpless agony as he watched his son burning alive in a slow descent to the ground. Wilks let out an animalistic yell that momentarily seemed to drown out all others.

  Khaled allowed himself a moment to absorb the broken Wilks before turning and walking back toward his car. His mind was already preparing for his next destination and the work ahead as he navigated a path through the onlookers.

  30

  Every news channel was running the same story. Nick, Izzy, and Declan sat in the second-floor conference room of the Wethersfield Police Department. The television mounted on the wall was muted. They decided that there was no need to have the background noise of an anchor reading teleprompter information that wasn’t accurate. No commentary would do the scrolling images justice. They watched as the Labor Day Launch Festival had become the next target. Multiple videos shot from the witnesses on the ground showed the devastation in raw perspective provided by the amateur filmmakers.

  The group knew without saying that this latest catastrophe was the work of the Translator. The slow descent of the falling hot air balloons looked like they were moving in slow motion making the scene even more horrific. When the canopies of the seven rigged balloons caught fire, it shifted them in the sky and rendered the controls useless, sending them crashing into other crews. Some of the desperate balloonists, facing a painful fiery death, chose to jump from their baskets hundreds of feet above the ground. It was a sickening sight.

  In their collective experiences they had seen a lot of bad things involving the untimely death of others, but what trans
pired on the screen in front of them had shocked them all into silence. The news ticker running across the bottom of the television listed the ever-growing body count to be holding now at forty-eight. No new declaration from the terrorist group called The Seven, but they knew that was only a matter of time.

  “How on God’s green earth are we going to keep ahead of this guy? First, little Wethersfield and now he’s hitting a festival in Colorado. I don’t see a pattern and there have been no sightings of Khaled by any federal, state, or local law enforcement.” Nick seethed and subconsciously gritted his teeth as he spoke.

  “I know this attack fits the profile, but I need to make a quick call to confirm my suspicion,” Declan said, and stepped to the corner of the room with his phone in hand.

  “Hook?” Declan questioned, unable to discern if the voice he heard on the other end of the line was his long-time friend and former teammate. His speech was low and barely audible. A far departure from the larger-than-life, gregarious Jeremiah “Hook” Wilks of his past.

  “Ace?” Wilks questioned despondently. “He’s gone. Gone, bro. All the shit we’ve done back in the Teams and all I could do was stand by, helpless.” Wilks’s voice cracked. He was barely keeping it together as he spoke.

  “What do you mean gone? Who are you talking about?” Declan showed genuine concern for his friend, but didn’t understand the incoherent ramblings.