It was so obvious that MacPherson was lying, I could have ended the interview there. Rick Bellamy said my main job was to determine if our Scottish friend was telling the truth. Well, he was lying, but I wasn’t about to let an opportunity go. I wanted to see why he was lying.
“Mr. MacPherson, you don’t have to convince me that leaving behind a legacy is important to a man such as yourself. You’re one of the best-known and revered businessmen in the country, and you’re turning yourself toward something lasting. I get it, sir. Hell, look at what Andrew Carnegie did with the New York Public Library system. He made his millions but decided it was time to make a statement for posterity. But if you could just clarify something for me, and I’m sorry to be going beyond my bounds here, but I’m just trying to make sense of this in my own head. Why not commission a famous sculptor and donate beautiful statues to parks throughout the country? Or why not hire a bunch of talented artists and rehabilitate some old dilapidated real estate? Pardon me, Mr. MacPherson, but it seems that you could do so much more with your money than sink it into an economically crippled shopping mall project.”
His demeanor changed. He looked me square in the eyes. I had a feeling he was trying to connect with me but didn’t quite know how. He picked up a set of drawings off the desk, stood up, and walked over next to me. He opened the folder, and there in front of me was a message, printed in a large font.
“This room is bugged. Meet me at my house in Scarsdale tomorrow at 2 p.m. Take a rental car, not an official vehicle. Enter under the porte cachere around back. Wear a disguise and bring agent Bellamy and his wife Ellen with you. They should also wear disguises.”
Holy shit! I had no idea that he knew Ellen and Rick were married. MacPherson then went on to talk about how beautiful the plans looked. He was obviously putting on an act for whoever was monitoring the bugs in the room.
“Well, they certainly are beautiful plans, sir. I don’t know why I’m so concerned about the design,” I lied to the bugs. “I won’t tie up any more of your day, and I thank you for taking the time to see me.”
I slipped MacPherson’s note into my pocket. As I left the office, I smiled at Magda. She looked at me as if I were a cockroach.
Chapter 41
Bennie walked into my office at noon. Ellen was already there with me. To save time, I ordered lunch for our meeting.
“So, Bennie,” I said, “is Angus MacPherson hiding something from us?”
“Yes, pure bullshit, but it gets better. He wants to see us, the three of us, at his house in Scarsdale tomorrow afternoon at 2 p.m. He specifically asked me to bring Agent Bellamy, and get this, agent Bellamy’s wife, Ellen. He knows you two are married. He knows that his architect is married to an FBI agent. What’s more, his office is bugged, and that’s why he wants to meet us at his house. Here’s a note he showed me. He wants us to wear disguises and gave specific instructions about where to enter. He doesn’t want us to use an official car. Tomorrow afternoon we’re going to learn something. Something that may turn this case upside down.”
“How do we know his house isn’t bugged?” asked Ellen.
“Whatever Angus Macpherson is, he’s not stupid. I’m sure the place is clean. He wants to open up to us.”
Chapter 42
Joseph Portman, aka Abbas Muktada met with his mentor Phillip Murphy, aka Ali Bashara.
“Congratulations Joseph. When you greeted me you didn’t call me brother Ali. You are catching on to the new rules. Today I have something important to discuss with you. An event will occur the day after the infidel Thanksgiving next year, and you will be a key to making it happen.”
“Can you give me any details, Phil?”
“Not now. As you know, the Committee discloses things only when they must, not sooner. But I can tell you this: you will be instrumental in the largest undertaking since 10/15.”
Chapter 43
I drove our rental car up the long driveway to Angus MacPherson’s house in Scarsdale, New York. It was a Victorian mansion perched on the hill of a five-acre plot. As MacPherson’s note requested, I drove around to the back of the mansion and pulled under a porte cachere. A butler opened the doors and escorted us into the enormous entry hallway. The walls were hung with original art works and antiques lined the floor. The place gushed wealth.
The butler asked us to follow him into a large den, more like a drawing room. He directed us to chairs around a large mahogany table.
After a couple of minutes, Angus MacPherson entered the room. He walked up to each of us and, with a forced smile, shook our hands.
“So, lassie, ye found yourself a secret agent man,” he said to Ellen with a pleasant smile.
“I never keep it quiet, Angus. It just never came up in conversation between you and me.”
“Pay it no mind, lass. I’m actually delighted that my charming architect married a man with a skeptical eye. So to paraphrase a classic line from an old movie, I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today.”
“Mr. MacPherson, I think you just summed up our thinking,” I said.
“Well then, let’s be perfectly open with each other. You’re all aware of the kidnapping of my wife, Margo, and my daughter, Jane. Margo and I have been married for 51 years, and to be perfectly honest with you, I’m devastated. After she graduated from Princeton, Jane went to Harvard Business School where she got an MBA. I miss her as much as Margo. She’ll eventually take over MacPherson International. Please ask me any questions about this part of the MacPherson story.”
“Mr. MacPherson,” said Bennie, “the whole idea behind a kidnapping is usually a ransom, either in money or in action. What have they demanded from you?”
“Good question, Dr. Ben. Oh yes, I know you’re a psychiatrist. They haven’t placed a demand for money on the table. But they have inserted themselves into my shopping mall project.”
“Excuse me,” I said, “but when you say ‘they,’ are you referring to al-Qaeda or ISIS or some other terrorist organization?”
“That, lad, opens up a strange tale, indeed. Shortly after the kidnapping, I was approached by a pleasant young man, maybe 35 years old or so. I fully expected some bearded bastard with a sword clenched in his teeth. His name is Ahmed Farooq, but he looked like a typical American fella. He even had blond hair. He approached me as a businessman. You folks aren’t the only ones who know how to spy, so I had my people check out Mr. Farooq. It seems he’s from Chicago, and his real name is Walter Benning. He graduated from Northwestern University where he majored in economics. I expected him to give me a number, a ransom demand. Instead, he engaged me in a lengthy conversation about my shopping mall projects. He even had drawings.”
“Did those drawings show the one-story design with the sloping steel ceilings?” asked Ellen.
“Yes, lass, the design you hate. It’s also the design that I hate. I can’t remember how many times you tried to talk me out of it. It isn’t a design meant for business. It’s a design meant for, well, I have no idea what it’s meant for. As you’ve pointed out many times, Ellen, it’s sheer stupidity from any rational business point of view. But there isn’t a hell of a lot I can do about it, is there? The charming Mr. Farooq has made it quite clear that the design of the shopping malls is their ransom. Either I capitulate and agree to the plans, or Margo and Jane will be killed. Farooq actually used the word ‘beheaded,’ the cold-blooded swine. So, Ellen, I hope that explains why I’m pressing forward with a stupid plan. I either follow the plan or I lose Margo and Jane.”
“Angus, here’s the question, the really big question,” said Ellen. “Do you have any idea what this design is all about? There has to be something more to it than a desire to lose rental income. It’s important enough for them to kidnap the family of a powerful man. What are they up to?”
“Ellen, I’ve agonized over that question for eight long months. I have absolutely no idea.”
“When will the deal be done?” asked Bennie. “Did Farooq give yo
u a date when Margo and Jane will be returned?”
“Yes, the Monday after Thanksgiving and three days after Black Friday, the biggest shopping day of the year. Part of the deal is that I open all of the malls no later than Black Friday.”
“Is part of the deal that you advertise the openings for Black Friday?” I asked.
“Yes, Rick. Not only am I required to advertise the openings, something that the retailers themselves would normally be responsible for, but they also want me to give a cash-back bonus to each tenant to help pack the shoppers in. The average number of shoppers at peak capacity should be about 15,000 per mall, or 75,000 people at any given time in all of the malls.
***
“Wait, hold everything,” I said. “This plan isn’t only stupid or bad business. It’s completely insane. Farooq must know that he can’t enter into a legally enforceable contract with you. The law says you can’t enter a binding contract under coercion. Your family being held hostage is obviously coercion. All of the properties are in your name, or MacPherson International and a few banks. It’s obvious that they can’t take you to court. Could it be that al-Qaeda’s plan is to see you stand up to your part of the deal, only to get the thrill of watching you lose money? Simple question – what’s in it for them?”
“Rick, I simply do not know.”
“Angus,” Ellen said, “can you tell us anything about MacPherson Security Corporation?”
“I was about to bring that up. I began the operation about five years ago. It seemed like a good idea to have our own security at all of our buildings. I soon realized it was a bad idea. We made a profit from renting our security forces to other businesses, but using them in-house was becoming a complicated mess. I was about to put the firm up for sale when Margo and Jane were kidnapped. Mr. Farooq put a stop to my plans to sell the business. It seems that having an in-house security operation is very attractive to Farooq and his colleagues.”
“Are you still hiring?” I asked. “My guess is that you’ll need a lot more people to patrol the five shopping malls next year.”
“Good question, lad. The answer is I have no idea. I have nothing at all to do with our security business. All hiring and firing is controlled by managers who were hired – not by me – in the past eight months.”
He could see the shocked expressions on our faces.
“A related question, Angus,” said Ellen. “Did you personally hire Magda, your assistant?”
“No, she’s one of them. Her job, apparently, is to keep an eye on me. Did you ever think I would hire such a vile creature?”
***
“Next year something is going to happen,” said Ellen, “something big. Black Friday is going to take on a new meaning.”
“But what?” I said.
Nobody came up with an answer.
Chapter 44
Zeke, Bennie, and I met with Buster in his office three days after the MacPherson meeting. Bennie and I brought Buster and Zeke up to speed on what we learned. I had hoped that Ellen could be at our meeting, but she was out of town that morning.
“So we’re stuck with a total mystery,” I said. “MacPherson’s strings are pulled by al-Qaeda, at least we think it’s al-Qaeda. He doesn’t know any more about the strange building designs than we do. All we know is it’s a puzzle that doesn’t fit together. If we can figure out what al-Qaeda can get out of this, we’ll know what to do, if not how to do it, whatever ‘it’ is.”
There was a loud knock on the door. Buster unlocked and opened it, and Ellen walked right past him. She sat down at the conference table and took a deep breath. She seemed to be bursting with something to tell us.
“It’s a blast concentrator,” said Ellen.
The four of us just stared at her.
“What are you talking about, hon?” I said.
“I just got back from West Point. I met with Jeanine Smith, a college friend of mine who’s an engineering professor at the academy. Jeanine’s an expert in designing military structures, and it just popped into my mind that she may have a clue about the design of the shopping mall plans. It turns out she had more than a clue. I didn’t discuss any names of course, but I showed her the plans and asked her if she could see any possible use for them. After looking at the plans for about a minute, she freaked out. She referred to the stainless steel sloping ceilings as ‘blast concentrators.’ ”
“What is a blast concentrator?” asked Buster. “It sounds familiar, but please explain.”
“One large bomb set off in the middle of any of the shopping centers will kill everyone there. The initial shock wave from the bomb will be reflected back by the sloped steel ceilings, pulverizing, and I do mean pulverizing, all life in the building. According to Jeanine, the only good news for anyone present is that they’ll die instantly. And remember, Angus said he expects 75,000 shoppers across all five buildings at any given time. 75,000 people who will be killed in an instant.”
None of us said anything for over a minute, our minds contemplating what Ellen had just told us.
“And remember, all security will be in-house,” I said. “Whoever controls security also controls anything that comes into the buildings.”
***
“So let’s get this straight,” I said. “Al-Qaeda, using MacPherson’s fortune and real estate assets, wants to pull off a terror spectacular the day after Thanksgiving next year by killing 75,000 people. Let’s connect a few dots.
On October 15, they hit at commuter transportation. Dot one – how people get to work.
That same day, they attacked office buildings, places where millions of Americans go every day. Dot two – what happens when people get to their jobs.
Then they sunk the Ocean Mariner and The Sovereign of the Deep. Dot three – hit the vacation and leisure industry.
Between now and next Black Friday there may be more dots, but even if not, the Black Friday event will be a huge dot – American retail trade, a gigantic part of our economy.”
“Anybody beginning to see a pattern?” said Buster.
Chapter 45
“Commuter transportation, office space, travel and leisure, and if our thinking is correct, retail trade,” said Buster. “These scumbags are systematically picking apart our economy and culture.”
“Folks, if I may suggest,” said Bennie. “Let’s look at some dots that aren’t on the map yet, some institutions or areas of commerce they haven’t hit yet.”
“Infrastructure,” said Ellen. “They could target the electrical grid. And what about bridges?”
“Agriculture,” said Buster. “They could go after large farms, or the trucks and trains that haul the produce.”
“Let’s keep in mind,” said Bennie, “that the events since 10/15 have been technically simple. Suicide bomb vests, a large bomb on a pilot boat, a jet loaded with fuel. None of these attacks were nearly as sophisticated as 9/11. If we’re right about the MacPherson shopping malls, that operation will be the only event that’s complicated.”
“But there are a lot of simple acts of terror that they can inflict,” I said. “How complicated is it to release a bag of anthrax from a small airplane? How about pouring a sack of poison into a reservoir? And, as Ellen pointed out, how difficult would it be to hit a bunch of main power supply substations? They need two things to pull any of these plans off. First, they need a person willing to commit suicide – and they seem to have an endless supply of those people. Second, they use ‘homegrown’ terrorists, people who won’t arouse suspicion. We’ve learned recently that there are plenty of locally grown jihadis around, and not just here in the States. Because they’ve learned the trick of keeping the local creeps under the radar, Buster’s algorithm is of limited use. There’s one thing worse than not knowing something. It’s not knowing what you don’t know.”
“Buster,” said Bennie, “you’re the resident spook here. Is there a way to get inside?”
“Well, we are inside,” said Buster. “I can’t go into more detail than th
at, but we have operatives under cover. Since the database has been choked off, the only data we’re feeding it comes from our inside people.”
***
“If I could make a suggestion,” said Ellen, “I think we should focus on what we intend to do about the MacPherson shopping mall plot.”
“That will be incredibly tricky,” said Buster. “MacPherson told us he’s basically cut off from the operations of his security company. We’ve got to find out how they intend to get the bombs in and when they intend to do it. The only possible way I see it is from the inside. I’m not divulging any CIA secrets here, I’m just speculating. I don’t want the outcome to be a gunfight, not in crowded shopping centers. We’ve got to find out who controls the bombs and how many bombs will be in each location. And to add to those complications, try this thought on for size. We have no idea what else the enemy has in store between now and the MacPherson plot.”
The Shadows of Terror Page 9