Make it Happen: A Vigilante Series crime thriller

by Claude Bouchard

  * * * *

  Knowlton, Quebec, 3:49 p.m.

  Having determined a break was in order following a demanding week, the Barrys had invited Jonathan, Leslie, Dave and their significant others to their lakeside home in Knowlton for what remained of the weekend. After donning swimwear, the group headed outside with drinks in hand and were just settling down by the pool when Chris’ phone chirped.

  “No rest for the weary,” he quipped, glancing at the screen and motioning Jonathan over before taking the video call. “Hey, there. What’s up?”

  “Jeez, look at you two,” Ben replied. “I’m working my ass off and you’re half naked at a pool party.”

  “We’re still working,” Chris countered, panning the phone around to show Ben the others. “We just dressed down to fit in with this crowd.”

  Ben laughed then said, “Listen, guys, I’m sorry to interrupt your party but I thought you might want to hear about what I’ve got.”

  “Not a problem,” said Jonathan. “Just don’t go too technical on me."

  “Nah, I’ll just give you the good stuff,” said Ben. “I’ve been looking into this communication app we found on that iPad, which is along the same lines as other similar apps including the one we’re using right now, pretty straightforward. Anyhow, then I started messing with the one contact we have listed on there, Mohammad. I found his identification code, equivalent to his phone number on the app and was looking to see if I could pin down his location and, guess what happened?”

  “What?” asked Chris.

  “I got a ping about fifteen minutes ago,” Ben replied, “When Mohammad got a call. He was downtown Montreal and the call came from south Manhattan.”

  “So much for a secure network,” Jonathan scoffed.

  “Trust me, it’s very secure,” Ben countered with a wink, “But I’m very good. Also, keep in mind that it’s not like I listened in on their conversation. All I have is a record of a direct peer to peer connection which lasted a bit over five minutes.”

  “Can you track anything on the caller?” asked Chris.

  “I now have his, or her ID code,” Ben replied. “I’ll know of any subsequent calls made and my programme will record all the details – time, duration, location – as well as ID codes contacted. It will then keep track of further communication from and to those ID codes as well. I’ll fine tune this a bit and give you access so you can monitor the activity on your end.”

  “Any chance they might detect you?” asked Jonathan.

  Ben shook his head then smiled. “I doubt it. They’d have to be better than me. I’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter 8 – Sunday, July 3, 2016

  Manhattan, New York, 9:58 a.m.

  Mohammad had initially been annoyed to receive the call from Al-Tashid the previous afternoon but the latter had begun the conversation by apologizing for his patronizing attitude earlier. He had then invited Mohammad to join him in New York City where together they could increase their knowledge of the Big Apple, get to know each other better and discuss plans for the future.

  Mohammad had hesitated at first but Al-Tashid had kindly urged on, assuring he would enjoy the visit much more than staying alone in Montreal, commiserating over Fawad’s unfortunate failed attempt. Perhaps, Al-Tashid had suggested, they might even find a couple of young ladies to further liven up a night or two on the town. Illicit sex of various types, even once married, had long been a weakness for Mohammad and Al-Tashid’s last proposal had swayed him to accept the invitation.

  A seasoned recreational pilot, Mohammad had contacted the Les Cèdres Aerodrome to have his Cessna Skylane readied for the trip and shortly after seven, he had landed at Teterboro Airport where a car awaited. By eight-thirty, he had been joining Al-Tashid, as well as Tonya and Gretchen, for dinner at Le Bernardin in Midtown. Following an exquisite feast and several bottles of wine, Gretchen had led him to a waiting suite at the Tower on the Park, courtesy of Al-Tashid, with promises of more fun to come. Upon their arrival, he had enquired if she might know a young man who would be willing to join them. A brief phone call and a twenty minute wait had produced Christian, a definitely young man with a slender, boyish build. What had followed was a two hour erotic extravaganza he likely would never forget.

  Gretchen and Christian had been sleeping soundly when he had gone to use the bathroom during the night but, as agreed, had been gone when he had awoken around nine-thirty, a simple note on the bed in their place, thanking him for a wonderful time. He’d risen feeling slightly groggy due to the previous evening’s various indulgences and a shorter night of sleep than his norm. However, a brisk shower had revived him somewhat and he was now enjoying a lovely room service breakfast as he waited for Al-Tashid to contact him about their plans for the day.

  * * * *

  Knowlton, Quebec, 10:09 a.m.

  “There’s been some call activity,” Chris announced, pulling his iPad closer on the patio table where they were having breakfast, “X-Man made some transmissions earlier but Ben’s programme didn’t indicate any receiving locations. I’ll follow up with Ben but I’m thinking they may have been text messages or emails rather than calls. Now he’s online with Moe and, guess what? They’re both in New York.”

  “Is that right?” said Jonathan.

  “Yep,” Chris confirmed. “Both in midtown Manhattan.”

  “Planning a July 4th attack?” Leslie suggested.

  “A definite possibility,” Jonathan replied, pushing back from the table. “I’ll go make a couple of calls.”

  “Their call just ended,” said Chris. “I’ll email you the location data, for what it’s worth. You might want to contact Nick as well to let him know Mohammad crossed the border again. We know he was in New York on Thursday so we might get a cross-match with someone who fits the bill.”

  “He was in Montreal yesterday afternoon,” Dave mentioned. “He might have driven overnight but it’s more likely he flew.”

  “Good point,” said Jonathan. “I’ll suggest Nick have his team check airlines and charters first.”

  “Is there anything that we can do?” asked Leslie. “We need to stop these bastards.”

  “I suggest we take advantage of Chris’ and Sandy’s hospitality, relax and enjoy ourselves,” Jonathan replied, “Because I have a feeling we’ll be busy as hell in the coming days.”

  * * * *

  Central Park, Manhattan, New York, 10:32 a.m.

  “Good morning, my friend,” greeted Al-Tashid as Mohammad trotted the last few steps across West 59th Street at 7th Avenue to join him. “I trust you are not too exhausted to take a walk in the park?”

  “Not at all,” Mohammad replied. “I slept quite well, thanks to the comfortable accommodation you provided.”

  Al-Tashid gestured toward West Drive into the park and continued as they began their stroll. “I also trust Gretchen proved to be satisfactory company?”

  Mohammad flushed slightly at the unexpected question. “Uh, yes, a charming young lady. I had a lovely evening.”

  Al-Tashid grinned and said, “She certainly has no inhibitions.”

  “I, uh,” Mohammad stammered, “I take it you have spent some time with her as well?”

  “I have not,” Al-Tashid replied. “I knew Tonya and asked her to bring a willing friend along.”

  “I see,” said Mohammad, hoping to move on to other topics of discussion.

  “However,” Al-Tashid persisted, “I would not be against spending some time, as you said, with her, having now witnessed her exceptional talents.”

  “Witnessed her…?” Mohammad repeated, confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “As for you, my friend,” Al-Tashid went on, “You certainly are much more, uh, adventurous than I expected. Who was that young boy?”

  Mohammad froze in place as a wave of shock left him feeling dizzy. “You watched us?”

  Al-Tashid chuckled as he withdrew a flash drive which he held out to Mohammad. “I am pleased you agreed to keep the lights
on. Here’s a souvenir to help you relive your experience as often as you wish.”

  “Y-you filmed us?” Mohammad exclaimed, aghast. “Why?”

  “One can never know too much about one’s associates,” Al-Tashid replied, still proffering the flash drive. “Go ahead and take it. I have my own copy. Now, let’s continue our walk. You can take a few minutes to compose yourself and then we can move on to something else.”

  Feeling numb, Mohammad took the flash drive and slipped it into his pocket then fell into step next to the monster he had come to despise. They walked wordlessly for a while, moving onto Center Drive and winding their way into the park, Mohammad struggling with his emotions while Al-Tashid gazed about, taking in the scenery.

  “I’ve walked in this park every day since arriving here,” said Al-Tashid, breaking the silence. “I love its serenity, a peaceful oasis in the middle of continuous chaos and, as you can see, I am not alone. Never have I seen the park deserted. There are always people and regular organized activities to attract them. One such place I have noticed is Rumsey Playfield which we are heading to. Are you familiar with it?”

  “Uh, no, I am not,” Mohammad mumbled, barely paying attention to the other man’s words.

  “I had noticed it on one of my walks,” Al-Tashid continued, “And researched it somewhat early this morning. It is a small venue for concerts where the annual SummerStage festival is held.”

  “Do you, uh, wish to attend this festival?” asked Mohammad, uninterested and confused.

  “No,” Al-Tashid replied. “However, this festival is a series of regular concerts, each attracting several hundred spectators. I have decided I would like an attack to take place while I am in the city and this SummerStage could provide target potential although other avenues could also be investigated. Since you have so clearly shown your enthusiasm to organize further attacks, I want you to help plan something in the next few days.”

  “In the next few days?” Mohammad repeated, incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m very serious,” said Al-Tashid. “I don’t intend to remain here much longer so this would have to be done quickly.”

  “One day ago, you were telling me to step back,” Mohammad argued. “Now you want this to happen this week? Time is required to properly plan. Months of preparation went into the airbase attack.”

  “How much planning time did you dedicate to your attack on Friday?” asked Al-Tashid. “Very little, I’m sure. I’m thinking of a similar type of event here which will be simple to organize.”

  “You clearly pointed out how poorly I had planned Friday’s attack,” Mohammad scoffed. “You now tell me we should do the same here?”

  Al-Tashid offered a grim smile. “I said similar, not the same. For one, I will also be involved in the planning so this will not fail.”

  “I’m not sure I have the time or interest to be involved with this,” Mohammad stated.

  Al-Tashid stopped and turned to him. “You are here until tomorrow which is all the time we will need. As for your interest, I suggest you put your anger with me aside and cooperate. I am in control and you will do as I say. You must realize you have no choice, don’t you?”

  Mohammad glared back for a moment then asked, “What do you need from me?”

  “A little help and some resources,” Al-Tashid replied as they resumed their walk onto East Drive. “You’ve mentioned you had recruits in the area. This is correct?”

  “Yes,” Mohammad confirmed. “Three who I have known for a number of months.”

  Al-Tashid nodded. “How well do you know them?”

  “As well as one can know people through electronic communication,” said Mohammad. “For my own security, I avoid meeting my recruits in person.”

  “Did you not tell me you had met those who executed the airbase attack?” Al-Tashid pointed out.

  “Yes,” Mohammad replied. “I felt it was necessary to ensure their true commitment and because of the meticulous planning involved. However, I was well disguised so there was no chance they could have subsequently recognized me.”

  “Back to the three you know locally,” said Al-Tashid. “Do you consider them dependable?”

  Mohammad shrugged. “They have shown to be willing during exchanges we have had.”

  “I do not want a repeat of Friday,” Al-Tashid warned, “And we obviously will not perform such an attack ourselves. Are you confident that one or more of them would be ready to risk sacrificing themselves for our cause?”

  “I believe so,” Mohammad replied. “I only retained those who convinced me of their dedication. We need to determine what our target will be and the best way to attain it with minimal risk. Once that is done, I should not have any trouble getting the people to carry it out. The problem we may face is obtaining whatever weapons or explosives required on short notice.”

  “That should not be a problem,” said Al-Tashid. “I had a message sent to the man who supplied what you needed last week. He is reliable and I doubt we will need anything highly sophisticated. Devices like the ones you used on Friday should be easy enough to acquire. What may be the bigger issue is getting them where we want them without detection.”

  They continued in silence for a few minutes and soon noted increasing crowds as they moved forward. While some ambled about, most stood in place or sat, chatting and laughing, seemingly in wait.

  “We are approaching Rumsey Playfield,” said Al-Tashid. “There must be an event today.”

  They moved closer to the venue’s entrance, the throng growing denser in what was clearly a lineup.

  Al-Tashid stopped by two couples in their thirties and asked, “What is today’s event?”

  “King Sunny Adé and Orlando Julius,” one man replied. “From Nigeria. Afropop.”

  “Thank you,” said Al-Tashid. “I am not familiar with them but they are attracting quite a crowd.”

  The man laughed and said, “This is nothing yet. Wait ‘til later. This place is gonna be packed.”

  “At what time does the concert start?” asked Al-Tashid.

  “Three,” said the man, glancing at his phone. “In a bit over four hours.”

  “That is a long wait,” Al-Tashid commented. “Is it like this for all concerts?”

  “Depends on the acts, I guess,” said the man, “But they always get good gigs going here so, yeah, there’s always a crowd waiting to get good spots near the stage or seats in the bleachers.”

  Al-Tashid nodded and smiled. “Thank you for the information. Enjoy the concert.”

  “No sweat, man,” the man replied before turning back to his friends.

  Al-Tashid motioned to Mohammad and they made their way through and away from the expanding crowd. They headed north then west onto Terrace Drive, two gentlemen on a leisurely stroll, as it would seem to any passersby. After five minutes, surrounding pedestrian traffic had thinned sufficiently to allow them to converse without being overheard.

  “My concern had been with security checks to get into the venue,” said Al-Tashid. “I had not realized so many people would wait for hours before an event. This will make everything much easier.”

  “I can’t disagree with you,” Mohammad admitted. “I noticed many backpacks laying around unattended. It would be simple to settle in for the wait then wander off at some point.”

  “I noticed and thought the same,” Al-Tashid agreed. “We shall return to your hotel where we can plan in privacy. I wish to see the schedule of upcoming concerts and will follow up with the arms supplier. You can contact your recruits to determine their willingness to participate. I trust they are now on our secure network?”

  Mohammad winced. “No, not yet.”

  “We will get this looked after as well,” said Al-Tashid. “It is good you joined me for the weekend. I will show you how to get things done.”

  * * * *

  Aboard the Junior III, Caribbean Sea, 10:41 a.m.

  “Morning, Chris,” said Ben from the bridge. “How’
s it going?”

  “Good, thanks,” Chris replied from Knowlton. “Looks windy where you’re at.”

  “We’re cruisin’, baby,” said Ben. “Heading to Jamaica.”

  “Good for you,” Chris approved. “You’ll have to take us for another tour of the islands someday.”

  “Any time you’re ready,” said Ben. “Tell me when and I’ll tell you where to fly to.”

  “It’s a deal,” Chris agreed. “Maybe soon, if we can get this crap wrapped up, speaking of which, I was just about to call you.”

  “Beat you to it,” said Ben. “Let me guess. You’re wondering about those two transmissions with no destination.”

  “You’re good,” Chris confirmed. “Text messages or emails, right?”

  “You ain’t too bad yourself,” Ben replied. “I can’t see where they ended up yet but there was a lot of bouncing around going on. I’m trying to see the actual messages from the source but they’re encrypted. I’m curious about one of them, maybe an upload, which has an attachment. Based on the weight, I’m guessing it’s a video.”

  “Interesting,” said Chris. “Do you think you can get to it?”

  “My machines are churning as we speak,” said Ben. “I’ve managed to extract attachments before so I don’t see why I couldn’t do it again. I’ll let you know as soon as I find something.”

  * * * *

  Manhattan, New York, 1:57 p.m.

  “Your three recruits now have the communication app,” Al-Tashid announced as he put his phone down. “I still do not understand why this was not done sooner.”

  “I am not a computer expert,” Mohammad replied. “I was not comfortable with the procedure and was concerned with transmitting the file for fear of detection.”