by Roger Hayden
Calderon was livid. “What the fuck are you doing, Davis? You wanna go to jail?”
Walker stood by, quiet and full of concern. Craig knew it was all up to him to explain.
“You can gamble with people’s lives all day if you want. You brought me in to help out, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
Roswell lashed out. “You were brought in here to gather information, not play Dirty Harry!” He turned to Calderon. “I want this loose cannon relieved of duty, immediately!”
Assistant Director Holloway, the highest-ranking official in the room, spoke up. “That’s enough, Roswell. Everyone take a breather. We have a national crisis on our hands.” He looked at Craig. “Relinquish that weapon immediately, Agent Davis. We’ll take it from here.”
Craig handed the revolver back to Walker.
“Someone get his notebook!” Roswell cried out.
“Hand it over,” Calderon said, putting his arm out.
“She’s hiding something. I know it,” Craig said.
“Well, why don’t you just shoot her, then?” Roswell quipped.
Walker went over to Husein to help him up. Husein looked at him with utter confusion.
“Here. It’s okay,” Walker said to him. He pulled a noticeably shaken Husein back on his feet as Malaka sobbed. “Have a seat,” he said calmly.
Malaka looked to Husein and spoke in her native tongue, shaken and upset.
“She believes that Agent Davis is crazy,” he said. “And that she is done talking with you and the FBI.”
Craig walked past his superiors, straight to Malaka. “If she wants political asylum, tell her we want the truth.”
Holloway sat next to her and spoke calmly. “The cat’s out of the bag, Mrs. Surkov. You told Agent Davis of these attacks, and now we need your help. If it’s asylum you want, I’m sure we can make that happen. But you have to cooperate. Can you do that?” Husein interrupted several times, repeating what Holloway said, making sure his aunt understood.
A silence came over the room as she looked at Husein.
“You can trust them, Aunt Malaka,” he said.
She nodded. “Yes. Yes, I will help.”
“Bullshit!” Craig shouted.
“That’s enough,” Calderon said. “Get him out of here.”
Two men grabbed Craig and escorted him out of the room as the rest of the officials remained inside, looking over Craig’s notes and talking with Malaka.
The FBI heads assembled in a tightly packed tactical operations room. It was filled with monitor screens, teleconference equipment, and a litany of high-tech radio gear to communicate with field teams and other agencies. There was a sense of urgency in the room, the intensity of it second to no other counter-terrorism action in recent memory.
Homeland Security, CIA officials, and the Pentagon members were brought into the loop and all information was cross-referenced with their intel. Malaka wasn’t the only one to reveal similar information. The very sleeper cell under Homeland’s watch had made the same claim. The Pentagon and CIA had verified that there were credible sources from all over citing a potential attack on the nation’s three major transit systems the next day. They had to take action, and the FBI tried to take the lead in maintaining control of the situation. There was even talk of getting the president on the line.
The FBI director, Kurt McMillian, soon showed up. He was a seasoned veteran of the department with trimmed gray hair, sunken blue eyes, and a permanent no-nonsense expression.
He seemed to be the man in charge, and he called for quiet as officials filed in, took their seats, and stood wherever there was room. Craig leaned against a wall in the back, viewing the projection screen ahead as it displayed the information he had given the FBI from his notes.
Even with his burning of bridges in the agency, they couldn’t cut him loose. He knew too much. Walker had gone to bat for him and convinced officials to let him stay on the case in an advisory role. Besides, they needed all the manpower they could muster.
Malaka and her nephew were still under close watch in the FBI holding quarters until the supposed attacks were thwarted. A conclave of agencies filled the room, ready to go.
The FBI director began. “In the next ten hours, according to our intel, we have to prepare for a series of ISIS-inspired attacks across the East Coast. This is information that has come from multiple sources, from multiple detainees. And now we hear that Mrs. Surkov, the mother of the Surkov terrorist brothers, has verified the same thing.”
Listening to the director’s words reminded Craig of how much he wanted to be back in the game. Suspended, he didn’t know what to offer them. Something didn’t add up, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He still couldn’t figure out why Malaka had requested him by name. She could have told the information to any of the FBI officials, and they would have easily bought it over him. Why him?
His cell phone buzzed, and he quietly took it out of his pocket. There was a text from Rachael asking where he was. He sent a text back.
In a meeting with the FBI now.
His fingers paused. He didn’t want to panic her or Nick, but it was time to at least warn them.
Honey, listen to me. You and Nick stay in the house. Do not go anywhere. Terror alert warning in effect.
He stopped again, trying to decide how much to tell her. He knew she would want answers.
If things get worse, I want you to take the boat to the cabin.
After he pressed send, he held his breath.
Rachael: OMG. What are you talking about? We need you here.
Please come home.
McMillian continued his briefing as Craig hovered over his phone, trying to decide how to explain the situation in a text.
Will call you as soon as this is over. Stay safe. Love you.
He pressed send once again and placed the phone back in his pocket. It soon vibrated again, but his attention was elsewhere. The officials were planning something. They had just gotten the president on the line.
“How can we be sure that this threat is real?” the president asked over the speakerphone.
“The information matches the testament of several detainees, and was recently verified by a credible source who wishes to remain anonymous. The informant had expressed concern over ISIS sympathizers in our own government,” McMillian said.
The president continued, “That’s preposterous, but if there are indeed potential attacks, I want every resource we have directed at preventing them. There should be no excuses.”
“Yes sir, understood,” McMillian said.
“What are the targets?” the president asked.
McMillian looked at the screen in front of him, which presented the details of the attack.
“The first attack is supposed to happen on the D.C. Metro at approximately oh nine hundred hours. We don’t have specifics on where exactly it’s supposed to take place. The next attack is supposed to occur on the New York City Subway at oh nine thirty hours. And then the final attack is supposed to occur on the Chicago Rapid Transit at oh nine forty-five hours. That is what we have so far.”
McMillan stopped talking. There was a pause, and then the president spoke. “How are we possibly going to cover so much ground? What is your plan?”
“Field agents at every site. Military and National Guard if needed. Alerts issued to law enforcement across the east coast. Basically we want to pull together all resources we can in a ten-hour time frame, just as you suggested. It’s the only way.”
The president sighed. “I want this done right. And I want it done quietly. Total control of the areas in question. Shut them down temporarily, but for God’s sake, keep order in the streets. Everyone on alert. Work with state governors and local law enforcement and make it happen.”
“It’s a delicate balance, sir,” McMillian said.
“What is?” the president snapped.
“Taking control of the areas, keeping people safe, and stopping these attacks without issuing a public
terror threat.”
“I don’t give a shit, just do it! We’ll implement martial law if we have to. I’m meeting with the Joint Chiefs in twenty minutes. I want an update in the next hour.”
The president hung up before McMillian could respond. The FBI director looked around the room, searching for words that would satisfy the gawking faces looking back at him.
“Well, I think he took it pretty well.”
Light laughter followed. Officials began to talk over each other as McMillian held up his hands and asked for quiet.
“You heard the president. Homeland, utilize everything you have. All thirty or so departments at your disposal. The FBI will be spread out at each location. We need FEMA standing by. We also need to inform the state governors. Each minute is valuable here, so use it wisely. We can prevent this, people, but we have to act smart. No screw ups. There’s people’s lives at stake.”
After the director spoke, the room erupted in a series of side conversations and movements. Officials pulled out their cell phones and began making calls. Craig had to push his way out of the room just to breathe. He knew it was going to be another long night. Walker approached just as he left the room.
“We’re doing the right thing, Agent Davis. We have to take these threats seriously.”
Craig shuffled around with his hands in his pockets, biting his lip. “I understand that, but think about it. The NYC Subway? Hundreds of miles? Over 400 stations? These tips are too vague. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Walker didn’t seem to follow. “Listen, we’re doing the best we can. The entire nation is going to be put on a terror alert. Not just in these areas. This is a good thing, not a waste of time. You don’t trust that Surkov woman? Fine. Neither do I. But she isn’t the only one who’s made this claim.”
Craig nodded and began to walk away. Walker grabbed his arm.
“You’re good at what you do. Just suck it up and help us out here. If all goes well, you’ll be reinstated to field work in no time.”
“Pending my investigation,” Craig said.
“Yes. But I’ve seen agents survive worse.”
Craig looked at Walker closely. “I’ll stay on as needed.”
Walker nodded and went back into the conference room. As he opened the door, Craig could hear a cacophony of commotion from inside. It was enough to give anyone a headache, and his head was splitting as it was. He pulled his cell phone out and promptly called his wife. She answered immediately and wasn’t happy.
“You need to come home.”
“Rachael, honey. There’s nothing I want more than to be with you and Nick. But I can’t do that right now. The entire country is being played right now, and I have to do something about it.”
“Where are these attacks supposed to happen? You have to give me details.”
“That’s just the thing, honey, we don’t have the details. Washington Metro is a potential target, for starters. As long as you and Nick stay indoors, you should be safe. I’ll get home as soon as I can.”
“But we have to warn people then. Why isn’t the government telling anyone?”
Craig closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “For now, we have everything under control. Please, just do this for me.”
There was a pause.
“Promise me you’ll stay safe.”
“I will,” Craig said. He turned to see Walker sticking his head out of the door, signaling him over. “I’ve got to go, honey. I love you.”
They said their goodbyes, and Craig hung up. He looked at the conference room door and thought of the mass disorder taking place inside. He thought about leaving the building then and there.
He thought of being with his family and comforting them in their time of need. Something, however, pulled him toward the room. He had to know. He wanted to do everything he could to prevent a terror attack, wherever it might occur.
Sleeper Cell: Book 1
Tuesday, July 7, 2016
The next morning was a tumult of activity, unprecedented in scope. Every federal agency had been alerted of a potential terror attack—everyone from the counter-terrorism agencies, to military departments, to the FAA, the EPA, and farther down the line. No one could accuse the government, or the president for that matter, of not taking the matter seriously.
The task of infrastructure protection placed most of the weight of preventing the attacks on the FBI. Through the night, their phones lit up with demands for more specific details by other federal agencies. But they had only Malaka Surkov’s initial information to go on. She was their confidential source.
The intended targets were in major, highly populated areas. Other federal agencies were demanding answers to their questions. What kind of attack was it going to be? Were they looking for bombs? Chemical weapons? An armed terror cell? No one had any idea.
Homeland Security prepared a hastily typed memo and distributed it among secure channels:
URGENT
MEMORANDUM FOR: Federal Agencies
SUBJECT: Terror Alert Warning—Take Immediate Action
The FBI has issued an alert warning, based on information obtained from a confidential source with close ties to the Islamic State. The source revealed that several sleeper cells plan to strike major targets in and around the United States. The president has ordered all federal agencies to utilize every resource available in helping prevent these unsubstantiated, but potential, terrorist attacks.
Based on Islamic State methods, the FBI and CIA strongly believe the attacks will be initiated by improvised explosives, but have no official information on the means of attacks. The following information is not to be shared with any outside parties under penalty of federal law.
Alert Warnings Issued for:
Washington D.C.: Metrorail Service
Potential attack to take place at 0900 hours 07072016
Plan of action: Metro Transit Police Department, local law enforcement, FBI, counterterrorism agencies, Special Forces,
SWAT will be deployed to area under high alert status Code Red. Areas to be covered: 117 miles. Stations: 91.
Service will be closed from 0600 hours to 1300 hours by order of the Federal Transportation Authority.
New York, NY: New York City Subway System
Potential attack to take place at 0930 hours 07072016
Plan of action: Metropolitan Transportation, NYPD, FBI, counterterrorism agencies, Special Forces, SWAT, National Guard will be deployed to area under high alert status Code Red.
Area to be covered: 230 miles. Stations: 468.
Service will be closed from 0600 hours to 1300 hours by order of the Federal Transportation Authority.
Chicago, IL: Chicago Elevated Rapid Transit System.
Potential attack to take place at 0945 hours 07072016
Plan of action: Chicago Transit Authority, local law enforcement, park security, FBI, counter-terrorism agencies, Special Forces, SWAT, National Guard will be deployed to area under high alert status Code Red.
Areas to be covered: 100 miles. Stations: 147.
Service will be closed from 0600 hours to 1300 hours by order of the Federal Transportation Authority.
Craig paced the busy operations room, nursing a cup of coffee and directing a field team that had set up camp in and around the D.C. Metro. Holloway, McMillian, Calderon, Walker, and other FBI officials moved past him talking via phone with federal agencies, senators, governors, mayors, city sheriffs’ deputies, and field teams on where best to set up camp.
Contingency response plans were now at the point of no return. Perimeters surrounding the suspected target areas had been put in place. An array of enforcement agencies had descended on the D.C. Metro, the New York City Subway, and the Chicago “L.” The threats repeated a pattern evident to any investigator. The targets represented the three largest and busiest rapid transit systems in the US.
If at the end of the day it was a false alarm, what did it matter? Craig, however, saw it differently. He wanted the terrorists to be expose
d. All the planning and prevention that had gone on through the night had to have a purpose.
He was asked repeatedly about his knowledge of the terror cells. It seemed they considered him the authority on the matter given his history. Through it all, Craig had two goals in his mind: to help prevent the attacks and to take down the terror cell, end of story.
“We’ve got helicopters over Chicago, now,” Calderon announced to the room.
“I’ve got foot-patrols and K-9 units covering at least a fifth of the NYC Subway, from East Brooklyn to Manhattan,” Walker said.
An LED monitor centered in the room listed the number of federal agents on the screen in each area along with the latest updates.
“Homeland confirmed that several surveillance drones have been deployed throughout the D.C. metro area,” Holloway said.
The president was on another screen via teleconference, sitting in the Situation Room surrounded by cabinet members. Everyone looked disheveled and tired after working through a very long night.
The updates kept coming in. Officials covered a sizable portion of the city in a short amount of time. But it wasn’t easy. The media fallout quickly turned into a frenzy as questions abounded on all major networks about the unprecedented shutdown of the busiest transit facilities in the country. Craig followed the news on several screens in the operation room. Most had guessed right about what was happening.
“No, just keep a field team at each station,” he said into a dispatch radio set up along with other high-tech equipment at a small communications station. “I know there are ninety-one stations. Spread out if you have to. We need eyes on the ground and eyes from above. It’s the only way we’re going to get a handle on this thing.”
It was hard for Craig to hear anything over the other conversations taking place in the room. There had to be at least thirty other people packed inside, shouting orders into their radios and cell phones. He glanced at the television news again. All major networks had postponed their normal morning coverage and were discussing the mass transit shutdown taking place before their very eyes.