by Brian Shea
Nick turned and ran back into the stadium his head scanning the faces of people he passed. He had always prided himself on the ability to compartmentalize any sense of fear or panic. Not that he didn’t feel those emotions, just that he could push them aside to focus on a solution. It’s what made him so effective leading men into battle, but this looming threat had challenged his ability to do this. He pressed on into the clamor of the stadium.
Nick stopped and stood at the base of the Eagles’ bleacher section. The crowd focused on the action taking place on the artificial grass behind him, oblivious to the danger that loomed. He made eye contact with Izzy who immediately registered that something was wrong with his facial expression. She nudged Declan, getting his attention and the two stood, turning their bodies in search of the threat.
Nick grabbed a security officer who was standing by the concession stand, flirting with a woman working the register. He needed access to the announcer’s booth. Declan, Alex, and Izzy navigated the bleacher’s stairs, heading in his direction. Cassie had broken off from the group and ran toward the field. She ran toward her children.
Khaled found the American football game entertaining. Although he didn’t fully understand the rules, he liked the speed of the athletes. He had watched as Enright and Morales, two Golden Men, entered the bleacher area with the FBI agents. He assumed that they would be at the game. Actually, Khaled had planned on it. What he didn’t foresee was Agent Lawrence’s awareness of his plan. The phone call he received had alerted him. The FBI must have realized the cruise boat was a decoy.
He intended for the detonation to occur after the start of the second half of the game so that the security detail assigned to Mandy and Mitch would become somewhat complacent. Now he watched as Agent Lawrence was getting the attention of a security staff member. His timeline had been fast-forwarded. Adapt and overcome, he thought. It was ingrained in him during his sniper training, several years back.
Khaled stood nonchalantly and made his way down the bleachers and positioned himself at the concrete corner of the structure on the opposite side of the devices. He watched as Agent Lawrence was in a dead sprint for the announcer booth with the security officer lagging behind. The booth was located atop the opposing team’s bleacher area.
Enright stood only ten feet away from Khaled. Tension was present in his body as he turned and twisted, looking in every possible direction for the enemy. He felt the Golden Man’s eyes pass over his features in quick evaluation, dismissing Darius Johnson as he continued his relentless scan of the stadium’s populous.
Khaled waited until Agent Lawrence had begun his ascent up the opposing team’s stairwell in his futile effort to get to the announcer. Too late. Khaled activated the first detonator. The concussive effect was devastating.
As was the plan, the two devices on the Eagles’ side and the one located on the Hippos’ bleacher area erupted to life in sync. The shockwave from the blasts seemed more intense than he’d predicted, due in part because of the partial enclosure of the stadium’s design. The panic was palpable as screams echoed through the debris.
The flood of Eagles fans in their blue and white and those in Hutto orange began moving toward the exit like a tidal surge. Khaled allowed himself to merge into the crowd of panic-stricken families as he was shoved and slammed through the concrete arched underbelly of the bleachers. Khaled tried to keep a visual of the children, Mitch and Mandy, but the volume of people made the task difficult. Khaled needed to get ahead of the mass exodus departing from the stadium’s parking lot before the authorities began to lock it down. The police working the stadium as an overtime job had moved toward the carnage but would soon redirect their efforts to containment.
Khaled began pulling away from the stadium and as he neared the effective range of the detonator he observed Mitch and Mandy being shuttled by their mother toward the exit. He activated the secondary devices with a click of the button located on the side of the glowing blue wand.
The large trash bins bookending the exterior of each of the stadium’s exits flashed, throwing heat and fire into the tunnels filled with retreating fans. The crowd had wedged themselves inside, adding to its effect. Those not killed or injured by the fire would be trampled by the panicked onslaught of the frenzied mob.
Nick had been moving at breakneck speed, ascending the stairwell two and three steps at a time when the blast had hit him. It had taken him a moment to comprehend what happened. His brain had to connect the dots. He was running one moment and the next his body was thrown sideways onto the laps of a family who had been intently watching the game. As he righted himself the ensuing chaos was equally terrifying as the crowd reacted. The average citizen was not exposed to trauma and typically had a guttural reaction when confronted by it.
Nick changed directions, abandoning the announcer booth, and turned toward the field. He saw Cassie herding her children near the Eagles team bench area. Izzy and Alex were also running in her direction. It seemed that they all had the same thought, this was not over. Nick assumed that if there was another part to this attack that it would be directed at Mitch and Mandy.
“Are you guys alright?” Nick said this to everyone as he approached, but his eyes instinctively focused primarily on Izzy.
“Where is he? How the hell did we miss this?” Izzy was venting her frustration.
“The boat was a decoy. I got the call from Fitzgerald, but obviously, we were totally caught off guard. We have to get these kids out of here. Now!” Nick took point. Izzy and Alex each flanked Cassie and her children as they quickly made their way toward the exit. They moved like a small dignitary protection team attempting to shield the principal.
Nick moved the group toward the mass of people trying to exit. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of someone moving at them quickly. It took a second to realize that it was Declan. He was shouting something inaudible over the crowd’s frantic screams. Nick slowed as he saw Declan flailing his arms, not sure of his message.
Declan closed the gap quickly and finally, his voice was heard, “It’s a trap. He’s sending us into a fatal funnel. Move!” Declan redirected Nick and the group back toward the football field against the flow of people just as flames roared through the tunnel.
40
The people pouring back into the stadium from the engulfed tunnel looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie. Nick watched in horror as a young girl emerged from the smoke with half of her face and body charred. The shock had blocked her brain’s understanding of what had happened as she drifted in a daze into a police officer. Sirens had now replaced the previously joyous cheers of the football game.
Cassie and her children sat safely on the bristly Astroturf of the thirty-yard marker. The rest of the group took on the daunting task of attending to the wounded. Everywhere they looked there seemed to be another injured person. Within a matter of minutes, the stadium was flooded with police, fire, and EMS personnel.
The agents that were assigned to the marina had arrived to assist. This included Haggerty and the HRT guys. The massive stadium had become a combination of make-shift medical center and crime scene. Amidst the chaos, Nick heard someone calling his name and he turned to see Fitzgerald approaching.
“Nick, please tell me that somewhere in this carnage is a dead terrorist.”
“I read this wrong and a lot of innocent people got hurt.” Nick had always prided himself on owning his mistakes. He never tried to pass the buck. But under these circumstances the impact of this quality was devastating. He did not know the number of dead and wounded but looking around the field he knew that it would be bad.
“Director Jenkins is furious. That is an understatement. She is calling for your badge. As of right now you and Martinez are on administrative leave.” Fitzgerald softened a bit, “Sorry. Not my call. I went to bat for you, but you know how that goes.”
“Are you serious? This is absolute bullshit!” It was Izzy speaking up after overhearing the ASAC.
“Martinez, everyone knows you guys were doing the best you could, but the Bureau looks like fools and we have to reassure the American public that we are taking a new approach to this manhunt. To put it bluntly, your ability to predict Khaled’s movements have fallen short and more people are dead.”
“So, what the hell are we supposed to do now?” Nick suddenly felt overwhelmed.
“Take some time to reset. I’m sure that it will pass and in time the Director will focus her attention elsewhere,” Fitzgerald offered this consolation.
Declan interjected, “You’re making a huge mistake. Nick and Izzy have the best chance of tracking this guy. If you cut them loose now, then your probabilities of getting the Translator drops to zero.” He had a look of pure rage in his eyes, but his voice was calm in stark contrast. It was a scary blend.
“Listen, my hands are tied on this.” Fitzgerald paused for a moment and then turned his full attention toward Declan, “Thank you for your assistance, but your services are no longer needed. The Bureau will compensate you as discussed.”
“This guy is not done. The next attack will be on your shoulders.” Declan walked away without allowing Fitzgerald a final word.
“I’ve been advised to collect all of the intel that you have developed on Khaled. You will need to submit a formal report to my office immediately. If I had any say, it wouldn’t be this way.” Fitzgerald was the one to walk away this time.
“Son of a bitch.” Nick sat on the Eagles bench. Shoulders slumped and head down, he looked defeated. Izzy put a gentle hand on his shoulder, but he barely noticed.
“So, what’s your next move?” Declan said.
Nick looked up from his momentary lapse of self-pity to see Declan and Alex standing in front of him. “Next move? There is none. We’re done. They shut us down.”
“In our short time together, you have not struck me as someone who gives up easily.”
“This decision came from the top. Fitzgerald was just the messenger and no amount of complaining is going to change it,” Nick said through gritted teeth.
“You know that our little ragtag group of misfits are the only ones capable of finding this guy.” Declan, steely-eyed, continued, “We know how he thinks and where he is going next.”
“We have lost the resources and support of the Bureau.”
“All the good that did us trying to stop him so far,” Declan said sarcastically.
Nick looked up at his new friend and realized that he was right. All of the assets at the government’s disposal had not yielded Khaled’s capture. Nick knew that with Declan they had an advantage that none of the intelligence groups would possess. “What are you suggesting we do?”
“You have a group of four well-trained people willing to do whatever it takes to get this asshole. Maybe without all of the politics, we will be able to work faster and actually get ahead of the Translator.” Declan allowed a slight smile to break across his rigid face.
“Screw it. I’m in.” Nick stood and looked at Izzy.
“I just got freed up on a paid vacation.” Izzy returned his smile in support and followed with, “Let’s get this bastard.”
“One condition.” Declan said, halting them, “Alex is with us on this now too.”
“I assumed that was a given when you said the four of us,” Nick said as he walked toward the stadium exit adjacent to the concession stand. The only exit that had not been destroyed by fire. “We are already behind the power curve. Let’s get moving. We have a terrorist to hunt.”
41
Khaled was sitting in the cheaply furnished room of the Brookside Motel. The color of the curtains had been washed out from years of sun and replaced with a dingy yellow, contributed from past occupants’ non-compliance with the no-smoking policy. Khaled himself was now a contributor to the room’s decay as he lit a hand-rolled cigarette. He was mesmerized by the video footage from his attack on the stadium.
The quality of the footage was excellent. It had been captured by the cameras used to record the games. Football was big in Texas and even high school games were aired on local television. Khaled watched in disbelief as Enright was seen intercepting Morales’s niece and nephew seconds before the tunnel’s flames unleashed their fury. He had taken another opportunity from him and the Dust Devil was finding it incredibly difficult to suppress his rage.
Khaled had already been in contact with The Seven and they relayed their great pleasure with his latest success. The next media release had already been sent and it would be heard by the American people soon.
The media loved to share the numbers, comparing it to attacks of the past. The count was ever-growing. His mission in Texas had left more injured than dead, but the real impact was the fear imparted to small-town America. No place would feel safe anymore. Images flooded every news channel depicting men and women, standing on their porches with handguns and rifles at the ready. The false bravado of terrified people.
Khaled still had a lot of work to do before he disappeared again.
“Well, the media didn’t help your cause. No wonder the Director gave you a temporary boot,” Alex said to Nick as the four sat around the cherry wood table in Alex’s kitchen.
“I know. Jesus, the next thing the news will say is that I am the terrorist.” Nick said this as he stared at his image on the television mounted on the wall in the adjacent living room, visible because of the open floor plan of the house. The news showed a picture of him sitting in the stadium’s bleachers. Nick realized that this picture had to have been sent to the media by the Translator. He was sitting so close to them and they never saw him. The thought was equally as terrifying as it was frustrating.
The other image the news had focused on was of Nick making his run for the announcer’s booth. It felt that the media supported the agenda set forth by The Seven, implicating that the government agencies were incompetent. The profit motive of the twenty-four-hour news companies’ mandate to outdo one another had compromised a balanced and impartial approach, replacing it with sensationalized stories with unchecked facts. The general consensus of the Americans polled had listed the current President’s approval rating at an unprecedented sixteen percent. People called for his resignation. The television debates from the so-called experts explored solutions from the safety and security of their desks.
“Well, I’ve become the damned poster child for a failed agency.” Nick said the self-deprecating statement to himself.
“Screw the media. You know better than most that what they say is half-assed and way off the mark. Let’s focus that energy on finding this bastard,” Declan redirected.
“Since Izzy and I had to turn in our badge and gun to Fitzgerald until the inquiry is completed, we’re limited in weaponry.”
Declan and Alex looked at each other and exchanged cocky smiles. “Nick, you came to the right place.” He gave the come-along gesture with his hand as he walked from the table to a closed door located down the hallway. The four stood outside the seemingly benign door. The only thing that stood out as unique was the electronic keypad above the handle.
Alex punched in his code and there was an audible click of the locking device’s release. The door opened to a small eight-by-ten room. There was a sturdy table in the center and the expanse of the back wall had two very large safes. On the table, Nick observed a box of gun cleaning supplies.
“Welcome to my man cave,” Alex said laughing. “I have been preparing for this day for a long time.” Alex went over and unlocked both wall safes, exposing their contents to the rest of the group. Even Declan looked impressed.
“Are we planning on waging World War Three?” Izzy jested quietly, suddenly feeling slightly out of place among the three battle-tested men.
“The war has already begun. We just have to end it.” Izzy looked over at Nick, surprised to hear that those words had come from his mouth.
“I’m not sure what it’s going to take, but we need to be prepared if we are presented with an opportuni
ty to take out the Translator,” Declan asserted himself. “We were able to figure out his Texas plan even if we missed the target. Now he has only one place left to go. The FBI will hopefully keep a team assigned to Mason and his family, but that depends on if they trusted our intel.” Declan paused looking at the two agents and rolled his eyes, demonstrating that he understood the politics of administrators. “Best-case scenario is that they beef up visible security and send Haggerty’s HRT to assist. Worst-case is they leave a skeleton crew and move the rest of the agents off-site.”
“If our plan is to go to Virginia and provide security to Mason then we need to have a different approach than we did here,” Nick said. “We tried to move quietly here in Texas thinking that we could lure the Translator into exposing himself. We’ve learned that he is better than that and he will not be baited.”
“So you’re saying that we harden the target?” Izzy asked, following the gist of Nick’s train of thought.
“Yes. We need to centralize Mason and his family into one location so that we can set up our defenses.”
“I like it. Let’s stand toe-to-toe with this asshole and bang it out. It’s just one man and we’ve got some good toys to assist with that.” Alex’s smile reappeared as he extended his arms toward the contents of his safes, like Vanna White revealing a prize.
“I have some gear too that may be of some assistance,” Declan said.
“I figured that ridiculously heavy bag you brought didn’t contain a microwave,” Nick said, and the two chuckled softly.
“Let’s get to it. The longer we stand around here, the harder it will be to get ahead of Khaled,” Alex said as he began pulling a variety of weaponry from the safes and laying them on the table.