by Brian Shea
“We might have a lead on him. He used a similar tactic with Wilks. Hopefully, HRT will find something soon,” Declan updated Mason Richards. He wanted to keep his former commander in the loop. Plus, he needed a little reassurance that he had made the right decision in going to Texas.
“Everything is copacetic on my end. Thanks for the update. I hope you nail this bastard. Beers on me if you vent his frontal lobe with a hollow-point. Sounds like you made the right call. Good job. Steak Sauce out.” The call ended. Declan turned his attention to Izzy.
“Anything from the cameras?” Declan asked, assuming that is who she was talking with from the small bit he’d overheard.
“Nope. They are still checking. It would be nice if we could confirm that it was Khaled who bought the tickets, then I would be more confident that we are focusing on the right target.” Concern was evident in her voice.
“Awesome. Thanks. I have a guy that may be able to help if you can send me a pic when you get a chance.” Nick slipped his cellphone back into his pocket and smiled for the first time in a week.
“What do you have? Don’t keep us waiting,” Izzy prodded.
“The bomb guy found a device. Apparently, it is attached to the fuel line of the boat. They’re not sure what they are dealing with yet. It’s possible that there may be more and so the pace is slow. Haggerty is going to send me a pic in a minute.” Nick knew that this was huge. It finally felt like they were gathering some advantage over the enemy. The next steps would be critical.
The cell phone vibrated, alerting Nick of the incoming message from Haggerty. The three put their heads together and looked down at the image.
“It doesn’t look like much,” Izzy said unimpressed.
“That’s the thing about these weapons; they seem innocuous until they go off.” Declan said this ominously and then continued, “Can you forward it to me? Mason was our tech guy and still does this kind of work on the civilian side. He may be able to give us some insight.”
“An extra set of eyes never hurt, especially in a case like this,” Nick said in agreement. “I’ve got a guy who should have a look too.”
“Hard to tell from the picture. The container looks fairly advanced, but I would need to see the components inside to give you a better feel for the maker. I disabled something similar, but that was years ago. I kept a notebook with photos, diagrams, and notations. Give me a little bit to dig it up. I will call you back if I find something. Tell whoever is on location to be careful. It’s definitely going to have a remote detonation capability, but the maker may have also put in a tamper trigger.” Mason said this with an edginess in his tone.
“The bomb tech on scene is ex-Delta so he should be good, but I will relay it. Thanks.” Declan ended the call and passed this information on to Izzy because Nick was on the phone.
“Have you seen anything like it before?” Nick asked hoping for some confirmation.
“Unfortunately, yes. Overseas we were tracking a high-value target that had been disrupting special ops teams in the area. He was known only by his nickname, the Dust Devil. Somewhere along the way, he had been given the name because of his reputation for moving in and out of an area with the speed and ferocity of those wind-whipped desert tornadoes. His devices crippled several missions and the Dust Devil had accrued a considerable body count. Only one device had been found intact. Apparently, one of the cauterized wires had detached rendering it inert. I will pull the file and let you know what I find. Whoever analyzed the bomb might have some information about your Translator or his associates.” Jay’s information hit Nick like a sledgehammer. Khaled had successfully assaulted some of the military’s best with success and managed to elude capture.
“What happened to the Dust Devil? How did he escape apprehension?” Nick was wrought with the stress of this new development.
“From what I remember, they thought he was dead. There was information that he had been killed during one of his attacks. I’ll gather what I can. This might be more difficult than pulling your friend Declan’s background. As soon as I know, you will know. This is a game changer. Be at your best.” Jay said this and hung up.
“Shit.” Nick was reeling from the blast of information from his CIA connection.
“What’s up?” Declan and Izzy asked almost in unison.
Nick was silent for a moment. He always found it important to pause and absorb new information before reacting to it. He looked up at his two partners who waited patiently for him to speak.
“Apparently these devices may be the work of a terrorist who goes by the nickname Dust Devil. My source has some personal experience with this maniac and he warned me that his skill set is as good as it gets. He is doing some more digging on it and will hit me up as soon as he gets more.” Nick scanned their reactions to his news. Declan’s eyebrow flickered momentarily before returning to its stoic norm.
Nick had learned in his extensive interrogation training that a brief physical response, like Declan’s twitch, was a subconscious reaction. The barely perceptible movement had immediately followed the information that Nick had just shared. In the world of Interview and Interrogation, it was referred to as a micro gesture. And it usually meant that a person was hiding something.
“So, it’s worse than we thought. Any ideas on how to stop this guy?” Izzy threw her hands up, feeding off Nick’s frustration.
“I don’t know. What do you think?” Nick’s question was accusatory and directed at Declan. Izzy caught this and looked back and forth between the two men like a child standing between arguing parents.
Declan was quiet this time. He seemed to be selecting his words carefully, “I know the name if that’s what you are getting at.”
“There is no time for your secret squirrel bullshit here. If you know something, then give it up or you are heading home,” Nick said, letting his anger show.
“Easy. You obviously have a little snapshot into my past, but you need to understand there are things I can’t share. Regardless of the stakes. I will tell you what I can remember about that asshole, the Dust Devil. I just won’t tell you how I know.” Declan showed restraint. No emotion was present in his voice and this seemed to soften Nick slightly.
“Sorry. There are so many things in play right now. I just need to get a feel for what this guy is capable of doing and how effective he is at doing it.”
“For starters, whoever provided you that information is probably more knowledgeable on the subject than me. It seems like you are well-connected.” Declan paused. “If it’s the same guy then we are in some serious trouble. I assume now that you may know more about me than you should which is troubling, but we will come back to that later. I don’t know what your source told you, but this guy targeted special operations teams operating in Iraq. He did this with deadly precision.”
Declan composed himself as he prepared to share some secrets with Nick and Izzy. Things that he had never even shared with Val. “Did your source tell you how he earned the name Dust Devil?”
“Yes,” Nick said plainly.
“I’ve never been up against someone like him before or after, until now. Overseas he orchestrated an attack that left four of my teammates dead.” Declan paused. He had never spoken about this to anyone except for Alex, and the raw emotion of it caught him off guard, causing his eyes to water as his throat suddenly constricted. He looked away briefly and took a deep breath before he continued. “The Dust Devil had initiated successful attacks on military convoys and small forward operating bases, referred to as FOBs. And then he turned his sights on the military elite. He actually targeted special forces groups operating in the area.” Declan shook his head and continued, “Do you realize how insane that is? He went after the best and came out on top. Time and time again.”
“Jesus.” Nick exhaled having realized the audacity to take on SEALs and SF operators willingly. It went against the mentality of most of the combatants he had faced overseas.
“Our unit operated outside of
the normal channels. We were tasked with finding and neutralizing the Dust Devil. Our operational success rate was beyond reproach. We had some good intel on him and developed a plan… We didn’t know what hit us.” Nick and Izzy could see that Declan’s mind had gone somewhere distant. The unshared recall of that memory played out in the empty look in his eyes.
“The only reason everyone else on my team isn’t dead is that the secondary explosive device he had set malfunctioned. It appears that he has worked out the kinks since that day,” Declan said gravely.
“What happened after that attack?” Nick asked curiously.
“He disappeared. We’d heard that he was killed during another engagement. A report we received had documented it, but I’m sure that paperwork has long since been destroyed. I remember seeing a picture of a blown-up body. Unrecognizable to me, but someone in the intel world identified him as Aziz Mohamed. He was part of the village council that our unit had visited from time to time.” Declan thought for a moment and then continued, “It made sense to me back then. It was the same village that Khaled, the Translator, had lived. I knew that Aziz was anti-American military prior to our attack so it seemed to match up that he would take up arms against us afterward. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.”
“So, this guy blew up another villager to throw your team off the scent?” Izzy questioned, trying to keep up with Declan’s condensed recap.
“I guess so. It worked. After Aziz was killed, the attacks on special forces operators stopped overnight. So, our unit focused on other missions until we disbanded and came home.” Declan finished detailing his past exposure to the Translator.
Declan’s phone vibrated, snapping him back to the present. It was a text message from Val. We are almost to Gretchen’s house. The kids are good. Laney too. Whitney’s awesome! We’re in good hands. Be safe. We love you. Call me later tonight if you have time. Get this bastard and come back to us! He’d been so focused on the mission that he had failed to contact Val. He shot her a quick response while the agents digested what he had just said. I’ll call tonight. Love to you and my girls.
“If what you told me holds true, then Khaled has been holding out for years developing this plan. We are trying to play catch up in a matter of days,” Nick said as Declan looked up from his phone. Whatever excitement they’d experienced when HRT located the device was quickly dissipating.
35
Khaled sat in the parking lot of the Starbucks watching the mobile application on his cellphone. The black and white images clearly displayed the FBI men and women as they moved around the boat. They had quietly evacuated the area. The agents had attempted to blend in with the cruise company’s staff. A failed effort. Amateurs.
They took precautions, moving methodically. Exactly what he’d hoped. Everything was on schedule. And why wouldn’t it be? He was smarter than these people. Sadly, they assumed that the tide had shifted. He envisioned that the senior leadership were now sitting around in their respective offices high-fiving each other in an early celebration of their hard work.
Khaled assumed that the FBI team would try to mask their retrieval of his device, building inert look-a-likes to replace the ones on the boat. They had located three bombs in total. He anticipated that it would have taken longer for the Bureau to locate the devices. Khaled was impressed with the man who found them. He was obviously experienced. Khaled had placed them all in spots that he would have used if he had actually planned to blow up the boat, but that had never been his intention.
Locating the bombs was step one for this team. He knew that they would spend several more hours ensuring that they did not miss a fourth device. They would not find one because there was none to be found.
Step two would be the removal of each device. This too would take time because an appropriate level of caution would be taken to verify that no triggers would be activated.
Step three would be to analyze each one. Khaled knew that normal protocol dictated that they destroy them on site, but he knew that there would be pressure to understand the design in the hopes that this knowledge might lead them to the maker. Hand-crafted bombs typically held structural elements that are unique. Khaled had implemented a roadblock to this step. Each device’s box was lined with lead which would block the x-ray of its contents. The bomb technicians would need to examine the devices in a blast-proof lab. The closest facility was located in San Antonio. The slow transport of the bombs would add hours to the process.
The FBI would replace the missing devices with well-made facsimiles in the event that Khaled returned to do a final check before Saturday’s cruise. The area surrounding the marina would be jam-packed with agents for the next two days.
Satisfied, he minimized the window showing the marina and tapped the screen bringing up another live-feed video. This time the camera was split screen and showed both main entrances to the football stadium.
With two days to go Khaled took a moment to relax. He reclined in his car and listened to the newscaster on the radio. He was speaking rapidly in a nasal voice about the failures of the current administration’s ability to handle this situation. The FBI was being bashed as the picture of the agent photographed on scene at the bus bombing had gone viral. Callers chimed in their two cents. Each one louder than the next. Panic had struck deep and the country was becoming unhinged.
Sound bites from the President and representatives from the FBI and Homeland Security were interspersed throughout the radio program. The messages from the country’s leadership were all hollow promises of increased law enforcement presence and recommendations for safety precautions. Each ended with the false assurance that “Every resource available is being used to bring this terrorist to justice.” Based on the flurry of responses on social media and news channels, those words were not being believed.
The law enforcement entities across the country were bleeding out overtime budgets assigning more officers to security details of listed potential targets. Some called for Congress to amend the Posse Comitatus Act, allowing U.S. Military forces to operate within the borders of the United States. The National Guard were exempt and had already been mobilized. The footage of these military units rolling into the major cities, like New York, had the desired effect. People were outraged that these troops were only being seen in places like the big cities. Small town America was angry, and this was evident from the current caller’s ramblings on the radio.
Khaled absorbed the impact of his two attacks. The Seven were pleased. The mighty United States was feeling the strain. He looked up, sipping his espresso and observed the tension in the faces of these people trying to go about their daily lives while their safety had been shattered. Khaled smiled and waved to a police officer entering the bistro. The gesture was returned without hesitation. Khaled looked nothing like the man in the picture that the media had circulated. In addition to the goatee and tight afro he also thickened his eyebrows and affixed a latex covering to his nose which widened his nostrils. The slight variations in his facial features had completely changed him. His valid Colorado license had his name listed as Darius Johnson and the picture on the government ID matched his current appearance. He drove from the parking lot with the angry shouts of a new radio caller in the backdrop.
36
With the three devices located and the trap set at the marina, Nick told the small contingent to take some downtime and recoup before the intended takedown on Saturday. The devices had been transported to the FBI’s explosive evaluation testing facility located in San Antonio. Nick told Declan that they had to wait for the technician team from Connecticut to arrive. The agency’s resources in that specialty field had been drained considerably during the events of the past two weeks.
Declan took this opportunity to meet up with Alex and take a small reprieve from the intense pressure of the manhunt. The two sat on the back porch of his best friend’s house, facing east with the setting sun at their back. The cascade of light washed over the leaves that clung to the twisted bran
ches of the Mesquite trees lining the backyard of his friend’s property. Condensation quickly formed on the cold glasses of beer in their hands.
“You’ve got a good spread here bro. I’m proud of you.” Declan said this genuinely and without the typical ball busting.
“Thanks. Life out here has been good to me, but I still miss it.”
“Yeah. Me too. There are aspects of civilian life that never really fit after serving. I think part of me stayed over there.” Declan and Alex had had this conversation repeatedly over the years since the two had left the military.
“Here now. The past should stay where it belongs.” Alex laughed a little as he said this. “Listen to me Ace. I should be writing greeting cards.”
The two spent the evening laughing about the good times and paying homage to the times that weren’t. Their friendship had weathered things most couldn’t fathom, and with that came a comfort. Night had begun to grab hold of the arid landscape before the two had shifted the conversation back to the present circumstance.
“Why is this asshole targeting our crew? Do you really think that it all goes back to that moment in the village?” Alex questioned, trying to process the hatred of the Translator.
“All things aside. What would you do if a missile attack killed someone you love?” Declan paused for effect, “I mean shit, look at me. He didn’t get a chance to complete the task with my family, and I am going to drop him the moment the opportunity presents itself. If he had succeeded I would wipe anything he valued off the face of the earth.”
Alex sat there and nodded, subconsciously agreeing with Declan’s assessment. “Those FBI guys are never going to let you close enough to take that shot and you know it. You’re here for your knowledge, not your trigger finger.”
“You never know how things will line up. If our time together proved nothing else, it definitely demonstrated that Murphy’s Law presents unique opportunities.” The two banged their glasses together and swallowed the remnants.