“Stick out your hand,” Ham said. She obeyed and the wolf sniffed it. He whimpered as if he was apologizing for his growling, and licked her hand. She patted him on the head and smiled.
“Ham, do I need to do the same thing?” Stewart asked, smiling.
“No Sir Agent Stewart, Lazarus knows now that you are a friend. I just wanted to make the girl more comfortable. Y’all come on in the house. Ana fixed you something to eat. You must be hungry after your long trip.”
The interior of the house was warm and welcoming. The living area was decorated in an old early colonial design. Apparently Ana and Ham loved antiques. The couch and matching chairs were oversized and had a grey pattern design. The coffee table was light oak and brass lamps set on white lace doilies on the matching oak end tables.
A thin grey haired lady wearing a black and white apron was holding a cast iron skillet in the kitchen. Ana Burris stood rail straight and smiled at them as they entered. She set the skillet on a potholder on the large oak dining table. There were four place settings at the table, and it held numerous bowls of food. The cast iron skillet was filled cornbread. A large pitcher of ice tea was in the center of the table.
“Welcome Agent Stewart and Miss Lisa,” she spoke with a distinct southern accent. Lazarus ran up to her whining. “He wants some of this fried chicken,” she said, smiling. “Just wait Lazarus, you can eat when we eat.” She patted him on the head and he quieted down and lay on the floor at her feet. “I’m sure that you’ll want to freshen up before dinner. Ham go get their bags and take that mangy wolf with you.”
Ham left to get the bags. “Very nice of you to welcome us like this,” Stewart said, and please call me Gerry.”
“Gerry, I retired from the FBI several years ago. My last assignment was on Director’s Stewart’s staff. I was very surprised when he called, but Ham and I are happy to be of assistance.”
“You have quite a reputation in the bureau to this date. You’re a legend Ana. I’m sorry I never had a chance to work with you when you were active.”
Ham and Lazarus returned with the luggage. Ana put her arm around Lisa’s shoulders. “Ham, put her luggage in Allison’s room. Put Gerry’s in the main guest room.
Honey, Ham and I had a daughter once and she was about your age when she went to heaven to be with God. Don’t you worry; we’ll take good care of you. Now you two go freshen up and I’ll have dinner ready when you come back.”
Gerry changed into pants and a golf shirt and returned to the kitchen. He wanted to talk to Ana before Lisa joined them.
“Ana, Lisa is not aware that her mother was murdered and that the press is reporting that her father is the killer. I’ve protected her from hearing that information. Senator Roberts, her father , is alive and should be here tomorrow. I think he should be the one to break the news to her. Only a few people know that he survived being thrown from the cruise ship on which he was with Lisa and his wife Susan. The Director and I are convinced that Senator Roberts was set up and his death was an important cog in a plot to overthrow the US government.” He stopped talking when Lisa came to the kitchen.
Lazarus ran up to her and whined. She knelt and petted him.
“Mr. Burris, why do you call him Lazarus,” she asked. The wolf licked her hand when hearing his name.
“Well honey, One day I was out hunting deer and came across this ravaged wolf’s den. Pups are born completely blind and deaf and depend completely on the their mother to survive. Usually four to six pups are born together. This is called a litter, and the pups in a litter are called littermates. In this case Lazarus was one of four Pups born in this litter. Pups are born inside a den. A den is sometimes a small cave or a hole dug out in the ground. In this case the litter was born in a hole that the wolves dug out. The den must be big enough for the mother and her Pups. It shelters them from the weather and protects the Pups from other animals that may want to hurt them. Wolf pups at this age may be preyed upon by Golden Eagles, and bears can also prey on young pups. There are several records of mother wolves decoying bears away from their pups’ den until they left. In this case, as far as I can surmise, a bear was trying to dig into the den. The mother attempted to decoy him away from the pups. I found her body about ten feet away from the den. The bear ravaged her. He dug out the den, killed and ate two of the pups. I found parts of their remains. He killed the third one and severely wounded Lazarus. I was astonished to find that there was breath left in him. I brought him home and Ana and I nursed him for two months before he would walk on his own. He thinks we are his parents. We named him Lazarus because he literally came back from the dead.”
“Stop it Ham,” Ana chided. “Don’t go into the gory details.” She turned to Lisa, “Ham talks too much. Let’s sit down and have dinner.”
Ham, Lisa, and Gerry took their seats while Ana prepared a plate for Lazarus. For dinner they were having collard greens cooked with ham hocks, loaded mashed potatoes, candied yams, corn on the cob, and green bean casserole for Lisa if she didn’t like the greens. The main course was southern friend chicken and fried country ham. Ana put a portion if everything except the ham on Lazarus’ plate, filled his water bowl with sweet tea, and joined them at the table. Lazarus sat still watching them, not touching the food.
Ana took Ham’s hand. “May I say grace?” They all joined hands. “Thank you God for this food we are about to partake and be with Lisa while she is with us. Amen.”
After dinner, they sat in the family room. Ana put The Sound of Music movie in the VCR for Lisa, and she and Lazarus curled up on the couch.
“Lisa while you watch this we’re going to sit on the front porch. Call me if you need anything,” Ana said.
She beckoned for Ham and Stewart to follow her. There was a bench and two rocking chairs on the porch. Ana sat on the bench with Ham and Stewart rested on the rocking chairs.
“Gerry, when the Director called us asking for help in this matter, he indicated that he didn’t know who he could trust. Apparently this plot has tentacles everywhere. What are your plans from here?” Ham asked.
“I’m on leave from the Bureau and am following the Directors directions. He instructed me to call him after I delivered Lisa to you, and he’ll give me additional orders. I need to call him momentarily and I’ll be able to answer that question. He thinks that the Russians who framed Senator Roberts will want to eliminate Lisa Roberts. She may be the only person who can identify the people who killed her mother, and this may lead to discovering who ordered them to commit that murder. We’re depending on you to keep her safe.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Ana replied. “You make your call and Ham and I will go inside and be with the girl.”
They went inside and Stewart grabbed his cell phone and punched in the Directors secure private number.
A light drizzle misted the air as Director Stancil left the Headquarters FBI building at 935 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, DC. His day of urgent meetings left him weary and anxious to get to his apartment. He needed to talk to both Agent Stewart and Agent Singh (Macy).
Stancil’s family lived in their long time home in Virginia Beach, Virginia. He didn’t want to subject them to the rigors of DC, so he took an apartment at the Watergate South Apartment building. Several members of Congress and other appointees lived there. He usually was home on the weekends but due to the situation in DC, he had not been home for three weeks.
The misty rain had subsided when he arrived at his apartment at 700 New Hampshire Avenue NW, Washington, DC. He parked the vehicle in his designated spot and was heading to the entrance of the building when his private cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and nodded. It was Agent Stewart.
As he moved to put the phone to his ear, he heard a gunshot. Before he could turn to see the origin of the shot, the bullet entered his chest. The burning sensation was familiar as he was wounded before when he was a Special Agent. The sensation didn’t last long as he fell unconscious on the sidewalk.
&n
bsp; Stewart didn’t understand what he had just heard. There was a click when the phone was answered. Then there was a pop that sounded like a gunshot. The next sound was the phone crashing on the sidewalk.
“Director Stancil,” he yelled. “Harold are you there?” There was no answer. The call had been disconnected. He punched in the number again and it went straight to voice mail. The only time that happens is if the phone is turned off or smashed. He tried again, only to get the same result. Since he was on a secret mission for the Director, there was no one else to call.
He went back in the house. Ham, Ana, and Lisa were sitting on the couch watching the movie. Lazarus was kneeling at Lisa’s feet. She was patting his head and staring at the TV screen. Maria had just left the mansion of Captain Von Trap and went back to the Convent to be with the Nuns. Steward had seen this movie several times with his wife and kids so he knew it was about half over.
Ham noticed him and Stewart motioned him over. They walked outside. “Ham I just tried to call the Director. He answered, but then I heard what sounded like a gunshot and was disconnected. Subsequent calls went directly to voice mail.”
“Gerry it’s probably nothing, but if anything happened to Harold it would be all over the news. We don’t want to alarm Lisa so let her finish watching the movie and then we’ll tune in Fox News or CNN.”
Stewart agreed and remained outside while Ham went back in. He sat in a rocking chair looking at the star filled sky. Stancil had been his mentor and one of his best friends. He called the Director’s number several additional times and got the same results.
Approximately forty-five minutes later, Ham joined him on the porch. “Come on in Gerry. Lisa wants to tell you goodnight and then we check the news.”
Lisa hugged him goodnight and thanked him again for helping her. Ana accompanied her to the bedroom to see if she needed anything. Ham flipped the channel to Fox News. Commercials were playing. After about two minutes, the Fox News Alert logo came on the screen. Bret Baier’s grim face followed.
“We continue our coverage of the shooting of FBI Director Harold Stancil. Approximately one hour ago, Director Stancil was struck with one bullet to the chest from an unknown assailant in front of The Watergate South Apartments. His body was found by a resident of a few minutes later. He was rushed to The Walter Reed National Military Medical Center where he lies in critical condition awaiting surgery. We are told that he must be stabilized before the surgery can begin. Our inside sources at the hospital tells us that it’s a miracle that he’s still alive, and his possibilities of recovering are almost non-existent.”
Stewart and Ham Burris sat in stunned silence.
Chapter 51
The Controller left a committee meeting and was back in his office when his secure cell phone rang. He punched the talk button, said “2876,” and hung up. He never took calls of this nature in his office. Too many bugs everywhere since the NSA had gone wild with surveillance.
He passed his assistant and uttered that he was going to get some fresh air and would be back within thirty minutes. The Controller took the elevator to the first floor of 1020 Longworth, walked out of the congressional office building, went to Independence Blvd., and took a left. He stopped at the corner, grabbed his secure cell phone and punched in the number for Nevsky. “1251,” he murmured
“The job is complete. He has been eliminated,” Nevsky’s course voice said.
After hanging up with Nevsky, the Controller made his required update call to the Organizer.
“We have eliminated my most dangerous adversary,” he said.
“I have additional information for you,” the Organizer said. “The gift from Allah is now back in the USA. I provided him with a phone that unknown to him; I am tracking and have the ability to trace who he talks to. We are in the position to eliminate several other individuals who may be dangerous to the plan. When it is completed, I will inform you.”
The Controller immediately hung up the phone and headed back to his office.
When he arrived his assistant rushed up to him. “Director Stancil has been shot,” he said breathlessly. “He’s in critical condition at Walter Reed. He’s not expected to live, and he is in a medically induced coma.”
The Controller was livid. Nevsky told him that the Director was dead, and now he finds out that Stancil survived. The Director must be finished off, and this time he wouldn’t trust the Russians to do the job. One of his jihadists will have to end Stancil’s life. This loose end must be handled prior to the January State of the Union Speech.
The Controller made a call to the Attorney General Eric Lovelace. “Eric, I heard about the horrible attack on Director Stancil. Who did this? Was it a terrorist attack?”
“Sir, at this point we have no idea. The FBI forensic team is at the crime scene. The shot from a high-powered rifle came from the top floor of the building across the street from the Watergate. That’s all we have at this point. It’ll be a miracle if the Director survives.”
“Thanks, and keep me up to date.”
“Yes Sir.”
“The Russians are good, but did not finish the job.” the Controller said aloud.
After several more pointless meetings in the Congressional Office Building, the Controller returned to his condo in the early evening. He was always amused that everyone in congress remained busy all the time and worked at a break neck pace, yet nothing was ever accomplished. The Congress of the United States remained the most ineffective body of government on the face of the earth.
He poured a glass bourbon on ice and sipped it. The time had come for the scheduled meeting to make final assignments and to solidify the plans with Aalim Mohammad Alam, The Chosen One, and Kazmi, the Bomb Maker. The meeting was set at a warehouse owned by Kazmi in the outskirts of Arlington, Virginia at two am. The meeting place was a mere thirty minutes from his condo.
The warehouse was a storage facility for a small furniture store owned by Kazmi. In the back, behind a simulated wall was his bomb making facility. The nuclear weapon was stored in a mosque, but all the other bombs were assembled and ready to be deployed.
In the early morning hours, Aalim was instructed to bring a van and be accompanied by Abdul Moham Islick, the older member of his terror cell. When they received the assignments, the two jihadists would load the bombs and deliver them to the designated Washington mosque. Later at the mosque, Aalim would personally deliver, individually, each bomb to the designated suicide cell member with explicit instructions of targets and the methods of inducing the destruction.
None of the men had ever seen The Controller’s face, and he planned to keep his identity a secret. The slightest misstep would doom the Master Plan.
The Controller had planned this moment in time for years. He removed one of two copies of the explicit typed instructions from his safe and reviewed them again. This packet of information not only contained the final instructions for the destruction of the US Government, but also contained the names and positions of his entire network of terrorists. The names spanned a network of Law Enforcement, Political Operatives, and General Officers in each branch of the military complex of the United States. The FBI, CIA, and Department of Homeland Security contained at least one high-ranking official who was sympathetic to his cause.
To prepare for the meeting, the Controller proceeded to apply a disguise. He was proficient with this procedure. He proceeded to the master bedroom, pulled back the rug in the corner of the closet, and opened the floor safe. The Controller removed two boxes and carried them to the bathroom vanity. He removed the content and undressed to his underwear.
The first thing he did was to darken his skin, using a dark foundation. He applied it carefully to his face, neck and arms. He then placed brown contact lens in his eyes. Using a small brush, he used a black temporary hair coloring to blacken his eyebrows. The next item required skill that he learned from Rita. He carefully applied the materials, which simulated a two-inch scar down the right side of his face. Thi
s provided a focal point and drew attention from his other facial features.
The Controller carefully wrapped a white turban around his head. Prior to dressing, he wrapped a padded eighteen-inch pad around his waste. This added the look of an extra twenty pounds to his weight.
He went to his closet and removed a long white robe. The garment was tailored like a shirt, but it was ankle-length and loose. He put it on, slipped into a pair of sandals, and donned a pair of black-rimmed glasses.
He stepped back from the mirror and observed the remarkable transformation from an American politician to a traditional Muslim man.
The Controller packed a briefcase with the copy of his plans and his fake drivers license and passport, which read Salam Fied Ali from Iran. He left the condo by the back stairs and retrieved his vehicle from the parking area. In twenty minutes he pulled into the parking lot of the warehouse and drove to the back entrance where Kazmi was waiting by the back door. An unmarked white van was parked to the left side of the door. Beside that were a black Toyota and a grey Dodge van.
“As-salamu alaykum.” The Controller greeted him.
“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam,” replied Kazmi. “Welcome to you my great leader.”
“Is everything secure?” The Controller asked.
“Yes, Aalim and Abdul are waiting inside,”
It was dark inside the warehouse as Kazmi led the Controller to the meeting area. They passed through three doorways and finally into a small empty room. The only thing on the wall was a picture of a beach with a long legged, bikini clad girl romping in the waves. Kazmi walked over to the picture, pushed it aside at an angle then pressed on the right corner. The wall slid aside about three feet.
“Follow me,” he said. They walked through the small opening. When through, he pushed on the wall and closed the opening. Inside was a large room probably, twenty feet by twenty feet.
Components were organized on shelves with instruction manuals and bomb-making equipment were neatly laid out on work surfaces in the room. He clearly used expensive equipment, including high-tech microscopes, laptops, and radiation testers while building the IEDs.
Lost in the Maze Page 26