Wicked Intentions (Steele Secrurity Book 4)

by A. D. Justice

  “I’d love to have some help. Thanks, Tim,” he replied as he scratched behind the dog’s ear. “And thank you, Robin. I really needed that.”

  20

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Rashad watched all the commotion from inside the port while keeping a safe distance away from the blasts. A fiendish smile crawled across his face at the thought of seeing his mission come to fruition. The infidels had interfered with his country, his beliefs, and his family for long enough. His intentions were to prove how vulnerable the arrogant people really were, while bringing them to their knees. Part one of the current plan was well underway and coming together as expected.

  He’d been warned against lingering in the port after he’d detonated the bombs, but he’d decided to take his chances. For his father, his brother, and his cause, he was obligated to see it through to the end. To him, it meant the difference in dying an honorable and worthy death, and dying a shameful and irrelevant death. A job only half completed would be dishonorable and prevent him from collecting his heavenly rewards.

  The excitement that had been lacking in his life all the years he had been in the US built inside him with each explosion. With every piece of debris, shrapnel, and projectile flying from the refinery site, his elation increased from knowing he’d been instrumental in ensuring its complete destruction. Secondary explosions from the spreading fire in the fields were like a sign from Allah, praising him for his work and awarding him with a double portion for his good deeds.

  The pride he felt when the first bomb detonated in the office quickly grew to a crescendo of arrogance and superiority. The final bomb in the office building culminated in the climax of his egotism. “I will be immortal now, transcending all time. Songs will be written and sung about me for the rest of time.”

  He’d rigged the final bomb with special care and a singular purpose in mind. The first set of bombs caused widespread devastation, but C-4 made a more impactful statement, in his opinion. The enormous, heat-generating blast was easily activated with his remote detonator and would’ve created an impressive explosion on its own, but the flowing oxygen from the tanks he’d procured from the hospital helped create an even more powerful force. Watching the giant ball of fire roll through several floors at the top of the building was the greatest vision he’d ever beheld. Every news outlet in the world would carry footage of his creation, memorializing his name and his innovation forever.

  His cell phone began to ring just as the building made its final descent. “Yes.”

  “You should be well on your way to New Orleans by now. What is your current location?”

  Rashad had visions of killing the man calling all the shots and giving the orders on their mission. He obeyed because he’d been ordered by his cleric to follow every command. His cleric—his teacher—was wise and was the most knowledgeable man in Islamic law he knew. For those reasons, he’d followed the rules and allowed the interloper to meddle in matters he had no business in.

  Of course, he’d followed all orders with the exception of leaving the port immediately after the first explosion.

  “I’m in the truck, still in the Port of Houston, making sure everything goes off without a hitch.”

  The silence on the other end of the line contradicted the outrage and condemnation simmering just under the surface.

  “Get out of there right now,” he replied through gritted teeth.

  “The blasts in the second site haven’t been triggered yet. Something could be wrong, and I may need to improvise. I can’t do that from five hours away.”

  “You know as well as I do those bombs will detonate with or without you. As soon as they move the first crate, they’ll all blow. Hell, even if the cargo ship slightly rocks from a wave, that’s all it needs. Move your ass before you ruin this for both of us.”

  “As you wish,” Rashad replied coolly, waiting for the day of his revenge.

  “You’re too damn late,” he growled. “The fucking National Guard has been mobilized. They’re shutting down everything and everyone in and out of the port right now. Find somewhere to park that fucking truck, get out of it, and then stay the hell out of sight.” He then hung up before Rashad could respond.

  “Yours is coming, my friend. Very soon, you will no longer be protected,” Rashad hissed to his silent phone.

  He fired up the diesel engine of the eighteen-wheeler and pulled out of his current parking spot overlooking the devastation he’d created. Several other trucks had been rerouted away from the crime scene, so he took the opportunity to fall in line with them. When they pulled into an enormous parking lot lined with one truck after the other, he smirked to himself at the brilliance of his simple hiding spot.

  After he gathered his belongings that could potentially identify him from the cab of the truck, he took off on foot toward the waterway. Rashad knew from his research shutting down the port was no small feat, nor was the decision to prevent any ships from entering or leaving the area. With the enormous ships now stationary and the exits blocked by military personnel, he only had to find a seat and wait for the real fireworks to begin.

  “Silas Steele, CIA,” he introduced himself and extended his hand.

  “Kevin Robbins, Port Authority Officer. Good to meet you.”

  “I need your help, Kevin. I’m afraid this isn’t over, and something just isn’t adding up for me. Can you help me out?”

  “Of course. What do you need?”

  “Pull up the security tapes from just before the first explosion,” Silas directed. “Start with the refinery plant area first.”

  “You got it.”

  The multiple flat screens that covered the wall displayed varying images around the port. Kevin keyed in the coordinates of the refinery field and brought up every recording that captured any angle of it in the camera’s range of view. Together, they reviewed each frame in the few minutes prior to the initial blast. Silas memorized where every person, vehicle, and piece of equipment was located, filing it away for easy comparison when something different jumped out at him.

  An eighteen-wheeler tanker truck pulled up beside one of the large vats, and a crew of men moved toward it, gathering connectors and large hoses to begin the transfer of refined petroleum. The driver’s door opened, and a pair of legs swung out into view. The driver handed the ground crewman his orders and stepped out of the big rig. Ground crew members had begun to make the connection from the vat to the truck when the blast filled the screen.

  The instantly mangled truck became a deadly projectile, the damaged equipment and free-flowing gasoline became all the accelerant the fire needed to rage out of control instantaneously. Everyone in a fifty-yard vicinity of the blast was killed, and many more well past that range were severely injured.

  Silas paused the recording and stared at the screen in disbelief. He noted the exact time of the blast from the recording. “Kevin, can you pull up the office building security tapes and start just a few seconds before this time?”

  “Sure,” he replied, clearly shaken from the graphic scene he’d just watched. When the digital recording reached the time Silas requested, Kevin put the image on the bigger screen in the middle of the wall. He had a hunch why Silas had requested that recording. “Here it is.”

  With his gaze carefully watching both the building and the time, Silas waited for what he knew in his gut was about to happen. At precisely the same time as the truck exploded, one end of the office building disappeared in an enormous blast of energy. Both bombs were on the same detonator, and the person holding that trigger had to be nearby. He quickly stopped the recording, unwilling to watch any further at that point because it simply hit too close to home.

  “Kevin, can you trace the truck back to when it first entered the port? See if it stopped anywhere else, let anyone out, dropped anything off. Let’s get a good look at the driver, possibly tie him to others who conspired in this attack. We need to take them all down.”

  “I’ll gladly help with that. Let me kno
w if you need an alibi.”

  Kevin and Silas watched the truck in rewind as it wound through the streets of the enormous industrial area. It only stopped when required. No one got in or out. Nothing was removed or put inside it. When they reached the port gates, the camera angle switched to the one on the guard’s station, giving them a close-up view of the driver.

  “Son of a bitch.” Silas had hoped he was wrong when he saw the driver on the recording get out of the truck just before the blast. The mannerisms were the same, but he’d hoped he was wrong regardless.

  “You know him?”

  “Yeah. I know him. He was actually a pretty good kid. Just recently got a job here and was looking forward to being able to move to a better place soon. His name was Reuben Silva.” Silas rubbed his forehead and exhaled forcefully. He’d just watched one of his confidential informants get blown up, the image forever burned into his memory.

  “Hey, he said his friend Gustavo got a job here at the same time. If they’re being used as pawns, his vehicle could be rigged too. Can you link into his truck’s GPS and see where he is?”

  “Absolutely. What’s his last name?”

  “Montes.”

  With a few clicks on his computer, he had signed in to the truck monitoring system the port maintained. “His truck is currently parked in the shipping yard cargo area. We had to use it as an overflow area for trucks because of the attack—nothing moving in or out right now.”

  “Get on the radio and get everyone out of that lot right now. Don’t send any men into it, but contact anyone who’s in there and tell them to get out. They need to leave their trucks behind. I’m on my way over to check out that truck. Jot down the license plate and description of his truck for me.”

  “I’ll do ya one better than that. I’ll print a live shot picture so you can see exactly where it is and everything surrounding it, too. Take the security Jeep parked outside.” Kevin tossed the keys to Silas.

  “You’re a good man, Kevin.”

  With the picture in hand, Silas jogged out to the Jeep and squealed the tires when he pulled out of the parking lot.

  “Noah,” Silas yelled into his phone. “There may be another truck with a bomb in the port. I’m on my way over to check it out.”

  “What truck?”

  Silas gave Noah a condensed version of what he’d just learned and where he was headed. “I’ll be in touch soon. Or you’ll hear a big bang. Either way, I’ll let you know what I find.”

  When he reached the overflow lot, people were rushing away from the area in droves. He had no doubt the word was quickly spread regarding the possibility of another bomb. He skidded to a stop just behind the eighteen-wheeler assigned to Gustavo and cautiously approached it. He squatted low to the ground and frequently checked underneath the trailer for explosive devices. He moved along the side of the truck to the cab and slowly opened the driver’s door.

  He climbed up on the step and peered inside, carefully checking every possible hiding place, before moving toward the sleeping quarters. When he pulled the curtain back, Gustavo’s lifeless face stared back at him.

  “Shit!” Jerking his phone from his pocket, he called the Port Authority office.

  “Robbins.”

  “Kevin—I need your help again. Can you find when this truck pulled into the overflow lot? Can you see when someone get out of it? And if so, can you get me a picture?”

  “Based on where it’s parked, I can check some of the trucks around it and see when they came in. That’ll help narrow down a time when he pulled into that lot. Give me a sec, and I’ll call you back.”

  While he waited for Kevin’s return call, Silas walked to the back of the truck and very cautiously checked the locks before opening it. He knew with every move, he could set off another explosion, killing himself and others in the process. But if he didn’t check and it hid a bomb on a timer, the results would be just as devastating. When he was confident he could safely get in the trailer, he swung the metal doors open as far as they would go, letting the failing sunlight illuminate the inside. Then he took a step back as his breath hitched in his chest.

  His cell pinged and vibrated simultaneously with a text from a local number, startling him and making him jump. When he opened it, he found pictures from Kevin showing Rashad as he climbed out of the truck and left the parking lot on foot.

  “Fucking hell!” he roared and hit Noah’s number again. “He’s here, Noah. He’s still in the port. There’s another truck with bombs in the trailer. I’m going in to disarm them now. There are multiple bombs connected to one timer, rigged to all go off at once. He parked it and left on foot. Gus is dead in the cab.”

  “You need help disarming it? I can be there in thirty seconds.”

  “It’s a simple trigger, bro. This isn’t one of his more sophisticated ones. I got this. Keep looking for Heather. Get everyone else looking for Rashad. He’ll try to walk out of here after dark. I’m forwarding you a text with pictures of him getting out of the truck. Share it with everyone.”

  “On it. And Silas? Be careful.”

  “Always.”

  Moving slower than he’d ever moved in his life, Silas climbed into the trailer and inched toward the bomb. “These damn bomb lovers, they always make something tricky in them. They have to outsmart everyone else. Not this time, dickhead. Not this time.”

  After several harrowing minutes inside, he was able to breathe again when the timer stopped and the wires were disconnected from the explosives. When he climbed out of the trailer, he alerted the National Guard commander, and the explosives technicians took charge of the disposal.

  It was well after dark by the time he returned to the search and rescue site. Bull was taking a break and guzzling a bottle of cold water when Silas walked up.

  “Nothing on Heather yet?”

  “No, not yet. There’s just so much construction material to dig through. They have the dogs out there trying to lock on to a scent, but they haven’t hit one so far. They’re checking crevices with the heat-sensing equipment, but so far they can’t get deep enough to lock on to a heat signature. Rebel has talked to Kay a few times, keeping her in the loop since they won’t let anyone into the port area.

  “The good news is the majority of the people who have been cleared to leave have opted to stay and help search the grounds. After you found that other truck with explosives, a growing concern there are more out there started moving through the workers. They’re checking their normal work areas. If they find anything in the least bit out of the ordinary, the ordnance disposal unit will go in and check it out.”

  “They’re allowing civilians to get involved?”

  Bull shrugged. “It’s a big port, and no one knows what’s supposed to be in their area like the people actually doing the work. It’s a matter of national security now, and every patriotic Texan wants to help. An armed National Guard member is stationed close to every major area in case anyone sees Rashad lurking in the shadows. We’d flush him out if we were out there, but Heather is our top priority, especially since officially we’re off the case.”

  “She’d be our priority anyway.”

  Rebel, Roman, Tim, and Robin were still hard at work trying to find Heather, working in the general area Roman last saw her before the stairwell collapsed, when Silas joined them. Noah and Shadow were on the outer edge, working inward toward Rebel, so he slid his hands into a pair of gloves, joined Bull on the opposite side, and started moving the chunks of debris out of the search area.

  “Good job with locating that other truck, Silas,” Rebel interrupted the silence. “Listen, guys, I’ve been thinking a lot about the encrypted message I decoded, trying to keep my mind on something other than…just trying to stay focused while I keep digging through the rubble. The CIA analysts think ‘cripple the lanes’ means shutting down our interstates by cutting off our oil and gas supply. But I think their interpretation is completely wrong, and they’re looking in the wrong place.”

  Silas g
lanced over at Rebel’s bare hands, bleeding and raw from working nonstop over the past several hours. “What do you think it means?”

  “It’s pretty obvious now, isn’t it? They’re not just taking out our current access to oil and gas. They want to take out the actual shipping lanes—not the driving lanes. We’d have nothing at all coming in or out if they shut down the ports indefinitely because of a catastrophic attack. Noah and I talked about this bit earlier, before we got the call, but we didn’t get to finish. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced I’m right. Which means…”

  “It means if there are more explosives, they’re on the cargo ships floating in the waterway right now,” Shadow replied, realization setting in. “They could have them set to explode at the same time, here and in New Orleans.”

  “That’s why he’s here,” Silas muttered to himself.

  “Why who’s here?” Rebel asked, cutting his deadly gaze up to Silas. “Rashad is still in the port?”

  “He was as of a couple of hours ago. He was caught on camera walking toward the general direction of the waterway. I thought he’d try to escape on foot after the cover of darkness, but now I think you’re right.”

  “He may get out of the port tonight, but he will never escape from me. That I can guarantee.”

  21

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Bill paced back and forth, growing angrier by the second. Rashad had always followed orders, had always performed the tasks expected of him. Until now. Until it mattered the most. Until their fucking necks were on the line and any failures would fall on Bill’s shoulders.

  “That little prick is pulling this shit on purpose,” Bill spat out. “He’s double-crossing me. Just like I knew his stupid ass would do. I should’ve listened to my gut on this one.”