The Shadows of Terror

by Russell Moran

  “Let me show you a video that I received this morning, Rick.”

  He waved me over to his desk and turned on the computer monitor to play the morning’s video. Margo and Jane MacPherson appeared on the screen.

  “Hello, Angus. Jane and I are well. They are treating us gently. We’re enjoying the sunshine. I always enjoy sunshine, especially here in beautiful Yemen. We’re going to say goodbye for now. Hope to talk to you soon. We love you.”

  “Is there something in that message that I missed, Angus?”

  “Rick, a man in my position always worries about kidnapping. My advisors have always counseled me that Margo and I should have a code, a way we could communicate even if one of us can’t talk openly. You just heard Margo say that she ‘always enjoys sunshine.’ It means ‘there is danger.’ Sort of like Ellen talking about Fiddles. I know you don’t own a dog. Ellen was communicating with you by code. Am I correct?”

  It was suddenly clear to me that I had to bring MacPherson inside. He had a need to know because I needed to know what he knew.

  “Yes, Angus, it’s a code. Ellen and I invented it for a crime novel we’re writing together. When she talked about Fiddles, she was saying that she has a gun. When she said that he is a good dog, she meant that it’s an AK-47. But you just said that Margo was signaling that they’re in danger.”

  “No, lad. She didn’t say that they were in danger, just that there was danger. I believe she was referring to Ellen. Rick, I hope you people are keeping a close watch on that house in Tenafly.”

  “Yes, Angus, the house is being watched closely, more than closely. As I mentioned, we’re planning an intervention. It could be dangerous – hell, it will be dangerous. I’m deeply inside this mission, but I have no operational role because of Ellen. But trust me, my friend, I have a lot to say, and I have a big stake in this just like you.”

  “Rick, has anybody figured out what these bastards want?”

  “Yes, Angus. Ellen figured it out. She met with an engineering professor friend at West Point. The whole idea behind those sloping stainless steel ceilings on your buildings is to kill people. Ellen called them blast concentrators, designed to maximize the effect of a bomb explosion. All human beings in any of the malls will be killed instantly by simultaneous bomb detonations.”

  “Dear God, lad. I expect at least 75,000 people at all of the malls at any given time on that day. And those bastards call us heathens. When did you say you’re planning the intervention?”

  “All I can say, Angus, is that it will be soon, as soon as possible. I promise I’ll call you as soon as the operation starts.”

  Chapter 61

  Baqir Siddiqi, my newfound friend, entered our suite and knocked on the door to my apartment.

  “Mrs. Bellamy,” he said, “it is time for the MacPhersons to record a video message. You must now come with me now,” he said, speaking sternly for the benefit of the bugs on the walls.

  He led me, just like the last time, to the small room down the hall. He gestured to me to enter the room and closed the door behind me. I realized that I suddenly had an opportunity that may not show up again. The AK-47 that I stashed in the closet wouldn’t do me any good if the shit hit the fan while I was in my apartment. I had to move the gun, and I had the opportunity to do it. Thank God that Siddiqi was my handler that day.

  One of the good things about a burqa, well maybe the only good thing about a burqa, is that you can conceal a lot under it. As soon as Siddiqi closed the door, I walked over to the closet. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, hoping I’d find the gun where I hid it. There it was, right where I left it, along with the extra clip.

  I wore slacks under my burqa, so I loosened the belt and slipped the strap of the gun under it. I looked into a mirror. Just a lady in a burqa, with no bulge showing.

  A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Siddiqi opened it and said, “Another friendly little dog wagged his tail at me.” (Our code for “your friend says hello.”)

  It was weird communicating with Rick through code, but if that’s what it took I’d settle for it.

  Siddiqi led me back to the suite and started to leave.

  “Will I be making a video today?” I asked. No need for code, just a simple question.

  “No, tomorrow maybe,” said Siddiqi brusquely.

  After he left, I walked into my apartment and went for the closet. My wardrobe consisted of another burqa. I guess they figured I would like an occasional change of wardrobe, from black to black. I lifted the hanger and slung the strap of the gun around it, and then covered the strap with a fold from the burqa. I placed the extra ammunition clip under a box on the floor. I had no idea what I would do with the gun, but I felt comfortable having it closer.

  I was having a hard time believing what was going on. Being kidnapped was the most frightening thing that ever happened to me, but now that I was in the custody of these slimeballs, my mind constantly wandered back and forth about what I was supposed to do. Siddiqi, my code-talking friend, made things a little easier. He told me that help would be on the way. But when, and what would it look like? And what the hell was I supposed to do, just hide under the bed? That’s not my nature. Okay, time to stop this crap, I thought. Siddiqi was obviously a skilled agent and knew what he was doing.

  I missed Rick. I missed him like crazy. I hoped I’d live to see him again.

  Chapter 62

  “Rick,” said Buster, “I’d like to introduce you to my good friend, Lieutenant Leo Burton of the US Navy SEALs.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Rick. Please call me Leo.”

  “In technical military terms,” Buster said, “Leo is what is known as an ass kicker. We’ve worked operations together in the past, and I couldn’t be happier to have him involved. Leo’s going to lead the unit that attacks the safe house.”

  I winced at the word attack, but I knew that’s exactly what it would be.

  “Can I just get something out of the way first, guys?” said Leo.

  “Rick, I understand your wife is one of the hostages. I’m concerned about your involvement in this mission. Simply stated, an aching heart can fuck with your head.”

  “Don’t worry, Leo. I won’t have any operational involvement. That’s from orders on high. But I can help you with the planning and that’s what I’m here for.”

  “Buster’s updated me on what we know about the house and the personnel involved,” said Leo. “To be honest with you guys, any hostage situation is dangerous. Don’t worry, SEALs train for every operation as if it’s impossible, but we have a few things going for us in this one. First, Buster managed to get a man inside. I can’t tell you how much that will help. I also understand that Smitty, our inside guy, can communicate with your wife in code. That’s another plus, a big plus. Few hostage situations allow for inside communication. So Buster tells me we have nine bad guys to worry about. I’ve seen odds a lot worse than that. Just before we launch the operation, Smitty will place cameras on the walls all over the place. That will give us a big jump on knowing where to go.”

  “Leo,” I said, “I guess Buster told you that Ellen has access to a gun, an AK-47 no less. I don’t want her involved in a shootout, not that I have anything to say about it, but just be aware that Ellen is a smart, levelheaded woman. She also has guts. I mention this because I’m sure that she’ll be ready to protect herself and the MacPherson women.”

  “I want to avoid that,” said Leo, “but it’s good to know the capability is there. I won’t minimize this, Rick. Anything, and I mean anything, can go wrong in a hostage situation.”

  Chapter 63

  Tony Lombardo and George Rendell met as planned at the Morton Flying School in Phoenix, Arizona. They were early and the school had not yet opened.

  “Peace be upon you, Brother Gamal,” said Lombardo.

  “Hey, Tony, cut that crap out. Remember that Ali Bashara, I mean Phil Murphy, said we’re not to greet each other that way.”

  “I’m
still trying to adjust to the new rules. Thanks for reminding me.”

  “So how are you feeling about your flying skills, George?”

  “I’m getting better with each lesson. Soon my skills will be used for the glory of Allah.”

  “Fucking George, you’re not supposed to say that.”

  “Sorry, I’m getting as bad as you. And you don’t have to call me fucking George.”

  “Stop fucking up and I’ll stop calling you that.”

  “So what do you think our assignment will be, Tony?”

  “We won’t know until shortly before the mission, whatever the mission will be. But I overheard Bashara…, I mean Murphy’s assistant, saying we needed to be ready soon.”

  Chapter 64

  My code-talking friend Siddiqi told me that the attack would come at night. He suggested that I try to sleep as much as possible during the day and stay awake at night. If Siddiqi wasn’t there, I’d have been scared out of my mind. I was scared out of my mind anyway.

  I hung my extra burqa over the window to block as much light as possible so I could sleep, but not before transferring my AK-47 to the underside of my mattress.

  A few days ago, I was a diligent architect, minding my own business and working at a drafting table. Then I uncovered a terrorist plot, blew the whistle to my husband and his colleagues, and managed to get myself kidnapped by a bunch of jihadis. If I live [AB29]through this, I’m going to convince Rick that we need to write another novel, not to mention take a long vacation.

  If I live through this.

  It was 3 p.m. and I was trying to sleep. Siddiqi had a great idea about staying up at night. When and if the late night shooting started, I didn’t want to be yawning and stretching.

  Chapter 65

  Buster, Lt. Leo, and I continued our meeting after a short lunch break.

  “Okay, guys, let’s take a look at the safe house,” said Lt. Leo as he laid out photos on the table. “The jihadis were smart to pick this house. As you can see, it’s up on a hill, which slopes off on all four sides. Here is a night photo. Notice the bright security lights surrounding the place. Any assault under the conditions you’re looking at means running uphill in a bright light, not my idea of a good way to launch an attack. I’ve communicated with Buster’s guy Smitty, and he’ll hit the lights just before we go. We’ll attack at 2 a.m., when most of the occupants will be asleep. Surprise is always the best way to attack, and that’s exactly what we’re looking for. Smitty’s armed, and he’ll take out the guards. He’ll alert Ellen just before we storm the place, and she’ll keep her gun trained on the door to the suite. What’s missing is a dark staging area. I’m thinking we’ll have my guys dropped off a couple of blocks away, and I’ll give the order to go as soon as Smitty turns off the lights. It’s going to be tricky as hell. The road in front of the house is well travelled and there are street lights every 50 feet.”

  Buster’s phone rang. He walked out of the office to answer it. He came back within five minutes, looking like he just won the lottery.

  “Our staging problems are over,” said Buster. “The guy on the phone was a man named Mark Drury. He’s a former Marine colonel. After he retired, he started a second career with the Newark Police Department, where he most recently served as chief of detectives. And the most important thing is that he lives right next door to the safe house. He’s a widower and lives alone in a big house, and is more than happy to let us use his place as a staging area for the attack. I’ve been waiting for his call. He had to cancel some plans to help us out.”

  “Did you have to let him know the details of the operation?” I asked.

  “Of course, and I’m not worried about it. I didn’t tell him that Ellen and the MacPherson women are the hostages, only that it’s a hostage situation. The guy is like a kid who just got a pony for Christmas. He’s 70 years old and has been away from the action for a long time. When he was with the Marines he commanded a recon company in Vietnam. So we have a friendly combat veteran who also was in law enforcement. This guy is a gift from heaven.”

  “How did you find him?” I asked.

  “I checked the real estate records to see who the neighbors were. Just basic cop work. I researched Drury out and discovered his credentials. So I called him and introduced myself.”

  “What was his reaction?”

  “He began by asking me one question, ‘Is this about those scumbags next door?’ This guy has been aboard our mission before he even knew about it. He told me the lights shine constantly at all hours of the night. He also said that different cars come and go all the time. And get this, he was good friends with the former owner of the safe house. It was designed by the same architect as his house. So he contacted the architect and obtained the plans, which he’s going to happily share with us. So, guys, we have Smitty inside, a tough hombre next door, and detailed room plans.”

  “I’ve worked on a lot tougher house invasions than this,” said Leo. “But I remind you that this is a hostage operation. Anything can go wrong.”

  “When do you think it will happen?” I asked.

  “We’ll be good to go in less than a week.”

  “Do you see anything that could slow us down?” asked Buster.

  “Yes. Snow. It’s the only thing that could force a delay. SEALs own the night, but that assumes darkness. I can’t have my guys silhouetted against a white landscape making themselves targets. Even with the flood lights out, snow would be a problem.”

  “Shit,” said Buster, “even though it’s only mid-December, the forecasters are talking about a possible heavy snowstorm next week, followed by unseasonably cold weather, which means it won’t melt any time soon.”

  “Bottom line,” said Leo, “if it snows we’ll have to be patient. It’s the only thing that could screw up the operation. If we catch a break, I see next Wednesday night as an ideal time. There will be no moon, so we’ll have plenty of darkness, again, assuming no snow. And from what Buster just said, that could be a doubtful assumption.”

  Chapter 66

  Buster, Leo, and I drove in a rental car to Colonel Drury’s house in Tenafly. The colonel told us to drive up the north side of the house, which is completely obscured from the target house. It was 7:30 p.m. We wanted to arrive in darkness so we could assess the conditions for the night of the raid. I was having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that I was only a couple of hundred feet from Ellen and there was nothing I could do about it.

  Colonel Drury was a big man, about 6’2” and 225 pounds. Buster’s description of him as a little kid who just got a pony was right on. The colonel looked happy to be in action again. He even wore his old combat fatigues, which fit him a bit snugly. He walked us through a den over to a window that faced the safe house. It was next to a door leading in that direction. The window had a light curtain over it and we couldn’t be seen from the target house.

  “Lieutenant Burton, I hope you don’t mind input from an old Marine, but I have a couple of suggestions about how you and your men may want to proceed.”

  “Colonel, the day I don’t listen to a recon Marine is the day I hang up my bars. Please tell us what you have in mind.”

  “As you can see, those fucking security lights make this house look like an outdoor circus. That path in front of you is the quickest access to the house, but the bright lights would make you all easy targets.”

  Buster told him about Smitty and the plan to have him kill the lights on cue. The colonel gave Buster a thumbs up.

  Colonel Drury then walked over to a desk and withdrew a portfolio from the top drawer.

  “I know you’ve been waiting for this. Here are the architectural plans for the house, including detailed room plans. My late wife and I were good friends with the previous owners and we spent a lot of time in their house. I can tell you that the rooms look exactly like these 30-year-old drawings, except for about four feet added onto the kitchen.” He marked the addition in red.

  He then took out a top vie
w plan of the house.

  “Buster, I assume you have a satellite photo of the house as it looks now.”

  Buster took out a few satellite photos and spread them on the desk.

  “Great,” said the colonel. He looked at Leo.

  “I’m going to make a couple of suggestions, Lieutenant. You SEALs know what the hell you’re doing, so most of my input will be as a homeowner, a homeowner who’s a combat veteran. I recommend you post snipers here, here, and here,” he said, putting small circles on the photo. “This foliage is all evergreen so it will provide excellent cover. You may also want to post a couple of your men on the third floor of my house. There’s an outside terrace area, excellent for viewing the house next door and also great for sniping. See that tool shed next to the house? Good spot to take before you launch your final assault.”

  “Colonel, is it okay with you if we put video cameras at a few locations on the third floor?” asked Lt. Leo.

  “Sure. I’ve already shot a bunch of stills. Whatever you need, just let me know. My house has eight bedrooms and nine bathrooms, so we can fit your entire unit.”

  “Colonel, I hope you understand that I have a substantial budget for this kind of operation, so you’ll be well-compensated for your hospitality,” said Buster.

  The colonel waved him off.

  “Make out the check to The Wounded Warrior Project. Consider me one of your troops.”

  “If it’s okay with you, sir, I’d like to start bringing my men tomorrow. I don’t want to call attention to a bunch of people showing up at your house at one time.”

  “I’ll go you one better, lieutenant. Tell me where to pick them up and I’ll drive them here in groups in my car. I’ll pull right into the garage, and nobody will notice a thing.”

  “You’d make a great spook, colonel,” said Buster.