Eves of Destruction

by Roy Berelowitz

  And yet he knew that despite everyone’s best efforts, meticulous planning could only go so far. If an attack happened, bombs exploding through the city as he now expected, he doubted the system could hold together with minimal casualties. A series of small seemingly random attacks were more of a concern to him than one big one. He knew from numerous studies conducted by the FBI and Homeland Security that a rapid series of sporadic violent attacks tended to be more destabilizing because panic tends to set in among the public and the authorities quickly lose control. Compounding the problem was Al Rahman’s best advantage; the women under his control would easily blend in and be difficult to identify.

  He reached for the secure phone on the console in front of him and placed a call to Lance Jessep, Special Agent in Charge or SAC at the San Francisco FBI office. He reached him on his cell phone near the Moscone Center where he was conducting another security check.

  “Listen Lance, what are we doing about the search for these women?” he asked dispensing quickly with small talk. “I mean do we have their pictures posted with the police departments in the bay area?” he asked.

  There was a slight delay before Jessep responded. “Uh no, Gordon our APB has been limited to Al Rahman. No-one has really suggested we do the same for all these women.”

  “I’m not suggesting an All Person Bulletin on each woman but I think at least we can get their pictures out there.”

  “Well that’s a lot of pictures, and some, as you know, are pretty dated, but if you think it’s a good idea I’ll do it,” Jessep responded sounding dubious about the idea.

  “Yeah, go ahead,” Gordon Lewis insisted. Limit the distribution to just San Francisco and the east bay—Berkeley, Oakland, San Jose… you know the area.”

  “OK Gordon, I’ll get on it. Anything else?”

  “No update on Al Rahman I take it?” Gordon asked, his voice conveying a lack of optimism.

  “Sorry Gordon, nothing new. I think you already heard we found Al Rahman on a couple of video surveillance recordings in the arrival terminal and then leaving the airport terminal, but the range of the cameras did not extend beyond the drop off area. We have no record of how he left the airport although I am pretty sure he did not rent a car. We have checked every rental agency at or near the airport, spoken to every rental agent on duty when his flight arrived and no one recognized him. We have also spoken to a lot of taxi and shuttle van drivers but with no luck. They are a much harder group to chase down because they tend to work irregular hours so I doubt we have spoken with more than half of them by now.”

  The two men wrapped up their conversation and Gordon Lewis glanced at his watch. He should be arriving in San Francisco within the hour. Casey Jennings and Kosnar were due in at almost the same time. Perhaps there would be more information by then. He certainly hoped so.

  * * *

  As Casey Jennings stepped out of the jet way with Vladimir Kosnar at her side, she noticed Gordon Lewis in the arrival lounge and a small group of men clustered around him. Lewis was standing with his arms folded across his chest, his face set and expressionless but he smiled briefly and dropped his arms to his sides as he saw her approaching. Casey quickly introduced Vladimir to Gordon who in turn introduced them both to the rest of his group.

  “Follow me please,” Lewis said as the group finished shaking hands.

  He lead them to a nearby small conference room where a uniformed immigration officer was seated at the conference table.

  “Take a seat please, Mr. Kosnar.” Lewis instructed.

  Kosnar sat down and faced the Special Agent in Charge who sat across from him.

  “This officer,” said Lewis indicating the immigration officer with his hand “has the necessary documents allowing you to enter the country. You and I will each sign these documents which stipulate that you are entering the country in the custody of the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation.” He paused before continuing.

  “Mr. Kosnar, you are not under arrest. However, and let me be absolutely clear here, the conditions of your stay in the United States mandate that you remain in the custody of the FBI at all times. We will assign agents to accompany you. If at any time you try to evade their company, you will be arrested and deported. Do you have any questions?”

  Kosnar shook his head.

  “Do you accept these terms and conditions?”

  “Yes I do.”

  “Very well,” Lewis responded. “Now, as soon as you and I have both signed these documents my men will escort you to the FBI station in San Francisco. I understand that you are probably tired from your trip but I am afraid we need to get started right away.”

  “I’m not tired,” Kosnar replied. “What do you need me to do?”

  “We have flown in two FBI profilers and a psychiatrist who are waiting to meet with you. I want you to help them create a profile of Abd Al Rahman, as detailed as you can. We need to get to know this man, what he thinks, how he operates. OK?”

  Vladimir nodded vigorously and quickly signed the documents placed in front of him by the immigration officer and rose to leave.

  “One more thing Mr. Kosnar, does the name Philippe Métier mean anything to you?”

  Kosnar said nothing for a moment then shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  “Well that’s the name we believe Al Rahman used to board the flight and enter the country. We’ve checked almost every passenger on his flight and except for just a couple of men who are unaccounted for, his name popped up as the most likely.”

  “Was his nationality registered as French?” Casey asked.

  “Yes, he arrived on a French passport.”

  “Any help from the French on his identity?” Casey asked.

  “They’re checking for us right now, but I don’t expect much,” Gordon replied. “We have found one former CIA officer who was stationed in Pakistan during the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan who claims to remember Abd Al Rahman. He says he never met him but he knows him by reputation. He described Al Rahman as an animal, ready to kill anyone at any time if it furthered his cause.”

  “That pretty much confirms what Vladi…uh… Mr. Kosnar has been saying,” Casey said.

  “Well, since then this guy seems to have been a ghost. He’s not on any terrorist watch list anywhere. We’ve checked and rechecked since we got his name and found absolutely nothing about Abd Al Rahman for the past twenty years. He seemed to have disappeared from Afghanistan in the late 1980’s and then just showed up in London this week,” Lewis said shaking his head as he spoke. “Now he’s arrived here and we have no idea where he is.”

  His words hung in the air for a moment and then he turned to the three agents with him.

  “Alright, let’s get moving. Mr. Kosnar you will travel with these men and Casey you ride with me.”

  CHAPTER 26

  THE MEETING WAS not going well. Special Agent in Charge, Gordon Lewis and the local SAC, Lance Jessep were seated at the table in a small conference room facing Gavin Newhouse, the mayor of San Francisco and Richard Westly, the head of the Democratic National Committee. The tone of the meeting had quickly degenerated as Lewis tried to make the two politicians understand the gravity of the risk facing the City and the convention, but the conversation was not going well.

  Rickard Westly, a large and boisterous man was getting demonstrative and red in the face as he spoke, hands gesturing almost wildly. He had personally orchestrated almost every facet of the convention from the length of each speaker’s speech to the color and number of balloons that would fall when the Democratic party nominee finished his speech. He was absolutely determined that the nomination of the Democratic candidate would be executed perfectly.

  “Look, you guys always exaggerate these threats every time we do one of these things. Personally I think it’s some kind of stupid governmental conspiracy to perpetuate yourselves. Either that or it’s just the Administration trying one more time to push us off the front pages
.” He stood up and angrily pushed his chair back against the wall with his legs and stood hovering over the two FBI agents, hands on his hips.

  Gordon Lewis responded calmly but very deliberately.

  “Mr. Westly, I can assure you we have absolutely no political bent here. We are simply trying to make you understand the nature of the threat we believe is potentially imminent. I would not be doing my job if I did not inform you that I strongly believe that we need to substantially increase the security for the convention.”

  The chairman of the DNC began to speak but the mayor cut him off. The youngest mayor in the City’s history, he had achieved enormous wealth selling an internet based business in the late 1990’s, and despite many peoples’ reservations about him, had established himself as a popular and effective city leader.

  “Mr. Lewis, I understand the kind of pressure you and your team are under and I appreciate your candor with us regarding this potential threat, but what you are asking me to do by shutting down Market Street during the convention is just not practical. Market Street is the principal thoroughfare through the heart of the city. The convention kicks off every day at three o’clock in afternoon so the important speeches coincide with prime time on the east coast. If we shut down Market Street and expand the cordon around the Moscone Center as you suggest, the City will cease to function.”

  Gordon started to respond but the mayor stopped him with a wave of his hand.

  “And if we do push back the cordon around the Moscone Center, all the protest groups that have promised to remain peaceful in exchange for our agreement to allow them to congregate within an audible distance of the convention center will come unglued. You know what this city is like. We have anarchists, pro-lifers, prochoice advocates, environmentalists, anti-globalization fanatics, hell I can’t keep up with all the groups outside the convention center demanding to be heard.”

  The four men said nothing for a moment and then Gordon Lewis turned to Lance Jessep. “Lance, will you please bring Agent Jennings and Mr. Kosnar here.”

  Jessep quickly left the room and the three men remained silent, Richard Westly leaning his large frame against the wall, a look of disdain on his face.

  A few minutes later Casey Jennings stepped through the open doorway quickly followed by Vladimir Kosnar and Lance Jessep.

  Gordon Lewis made quick introductions. “This is Special Agent Casey Jennings and Vladimir Kosnar-”

  Richard Westly cut him off before he could finish.

  “Casey Jennings,” he said as he came around the conference table with a huge smile on his face, his hand extended to shake her hand. “I read all about your exploits in Afghanistan. It’s a real honor to meet a true American hero-”

  Gordon Lewis, loud and insistent, cut him off. “We don’t have time for this now. Mr. Westly, will you please sit down and listen to what these people have to say.”

  Westly glared at Gordon Lewis but grudgingly returned to his seat.

  “Now as I was saying, Mr. Kosnar is a former Colonel in the Soviet and Russian security service. He knows a great deal about Mr. Abd Al Rahman. He personally chased him down and caught him during the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan. As I am sure you are both aware, Ms. Jennings and Mr. Kosnar were almost the victims of one of his attacks a few days ago in London that killed an FBI agent.” He glanced at both the politicians before turning to face the Russian who had taken a seat beside him at the table.

  “Mr. Kosnar, can you please provide some insight to Abd Al Rahman so these two gentlemen will understand the nature of the threat we are dealing with.”

  Vladimir sat silently for a moment as if he were collecting his thoughts. Then he leaned forward resting his forearms on the table as he began to speak, his voice was monotone, but his words were clear and distinct.

  “At some point in the late 1980’s the Mujihadin acquired some very high powered sniper rifles. They infiltrated Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan and began to methodically start shooting Soviet officers on the street, in their cars and eventually in their homes and barracks. It got so bad we had to brick up the windows in the embassy and officer’s compounds to protect them. We lost a lot of people including some senior officers, but after a few weeks, the sniping stopped and things settled down.” He paused and looked at the men opposite him before continuing.

  “The Soviet embassy in Kabul was the most secure building in the city. It had double blast walls, wire netting to catch mortars and a huge security team surrounding it at all times, something like the secure green zone today in Baghdad. Senior civilian and military officers lived at the embassy with their families and some never left. There was a school and outdoor playground for the children.” He fixed his eyes at the mayor and held his gaze as he continued speaking.

  “Al Rahman discovered a vulnerability to the compound. From a high point in the city, on the roof of a private house, the door leading to the children’s playground was exposed. He set up a sniper team and for days they watched the buildings, learning the typical schedule of the school. Finally one morning as the children came out to play, they waited until the last child came out holding the teacher’s hand and shot them both. Then as the other children tried to run back in to the building they cut them down as well.”

  “Oh my God,” the mayor said as he slumped back in his chair, his face drained of color.

  Kosnar continued speaking. “As security guards rushed in to the playground the snipers held their fire waiting for the children’s parents, mostly mothers rushing to get their children.”

  He paused before he continued. “They shot four mothers, two embassy officials and nine children.”

  The room was silent as his words hung heavily in the air. Casey glanced at the mayor and she thought the man had visibly aged since she had entered the room. He seemed to be having trouble breathing. Even the head of the DNC seemed deflated.

  Kosnar continued. “Later on we learned there were actually four snipers on the roof, but at the last minute one of them seemed to have a crisis of conscience and refused to fire at the children. Al Rahman dismissed him and the man eventually returned to his village. Six weeks later, Al Rahman showed up at the village with a truck full of Mujihadin and took the man, his two wives and all their children away. They drove them to a cliff and one by one, threw each child off the cliff, followed by their mothers. The man they left standing on the —”

  “Stop, no more please,” the mayor shouted out as he leaned forward on to the table and buried his head in his arms. He remained like that for almost a minute before he looked up and Casey could see his eyes were red and he was fighting to keep his composure.

  “Please,” he said. “no more.. no more.”

  “Well, you don’t really think that can happen here do you? I mean I just find this story incredible,” Richard Westly remarked, his voice less forceful than his earlier comments.

  The mayor jumped up pushing his seat away from the table so hard it crashed in to the wall behind him.

  “Dick, just shut up,” he shouted waving a dismissive hand at the head of the DNC.

  “But you don’t really think-”

  The mayor turned on him, his face red.

  “Shut the fuck up. You just shut up.” He took a deep breath before he continued, his voice getting softer as he gained control of his emotions. “I am the mayor of this city and I am responsible for the safety of its citizens and visitors.”

  He paused to collect himself and then turned to the Special Agent in Charge.

  “Mr. Lewis, I am very certain you have the best interests of our city at heart and I do appreciate your candor in this matter. We are going to do everything within reason you suggest. Now, I cannot shut down Market Street for three days but I am authorizing you to expand the cordon around the Moscone Center by another one hundred yards. I will also immediately contact the governor and ask him for additional resources, state police and CHP to help us maintain security and if there is an attack, to maintain order.”


  Gordon Lewis nodded at the mayor. “Thank you sir, I appreciate your cooperation.”

  “No Mr. Lewis, I appreciate what you and your team are doing to protect us. I know you are doing your best. Now if you will all excuse me, I am going to find the nearest bathroom and throw up.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “LOOK, IT SEEMS to me we are just playing defense here, waiting for something to happen.”

  Gordon Lewis was sitting in a small conference at the FBI building in San Francisco leaning forward in his seat so his face was close to the speaker phone in front of him. Seated next to him, Lance Jessep, Special Agent in Charge of the San Francisco office was leaning forward in his chair, his eyes focused on Lewis. This was the most senior meeting, or at least conference call, Jessep had ever participated in and he wanted to make sure he missed nothing. On the call was the head of Homeland Security, the President’s National Security Advisor and the Director of the FBI.

  “Well, what are you proposing Gordon?” his boss asked, his strong southern accent identifying his voice.

  “Sir, I think we need to flush him out. If Al Rahman’s target is in fact the convention, then he must be here somewhere in the bay area. My guess would be that he is not in San Francisco because all the hotels are completely sold out because of the convention, so he is probably staying either in the South Bay or East Bay somewhere. There are hundreds of hotels and motels available in those two areas and they also have the good transportation to the City.”

  He glanced over at Jessep before he continued.

  “My recommendation is twofold. One, we immediately contact every police and sheriffs department in a fifty mile radius of San Francisco and have them deploy officers publicly at transportation hubs, particularly the subway system. We distribute the pictures of all the women Kosnar gave us and we have them actively look out for these women.”