The Impoverished: Boxed Set

by Frances Fletcher

  Carmella ran around the back of the ambulance, towards Carson’s building. She bumped into a uniformed police officer struggling with an unconscious black male. She muttered an apology but kept moving towards the building. Matt stopped to help the officer with his human burden.

  Carmella stopped dead in her tracks when she heard Matt exclaim: “Carson, is that you?”

  Matt and the uniformed cop placed Carson onto the backseat of the police car, next to Abdul. Abdul moved over to make room for Carson.

  Matt tapped Carson on the cheek. “Wake up. Carson, wake up.”

  The uniformed cop pointed at Carson. “You know this guy? He said he was an undercover detective. I thought he was full of shit. Is he on the level?”

  Matt was shocked. If Carson gave up his cover, he must have something vital to report. “Damn straight. I know him. He’s working deep undercover, for JTTF.”

  “Son of a bitch! He was telling the truth,” groaned the cop. “He said there is another duffle bag with a bomb out there somewhere.”

  “Ibrihim,” Carson mumbled from the back seat. ”Ibrihim has the bag. We have to get to the Atlantic Avenue subway station before he blows it up.”

  He used Abdul’s shoulder to rub the lump on his forehead. Then he yelled at the burly cop, “Let’s go! What are you waiting for?”

  The cop craned his head to face Carson. “The Atlantic Avenue and Pacific Street subway stations are closed. We stopped Manhattan bound train service. Brooklyn bound trains are bypassing those stations. Only the buses are running.”

  Chapter 27

  The bus stopped at Forty-Ninth Street. Ibrihim scowled when a bunch of high school kids disembarked to transfer to the B11 bus.

  “It will be, what it will be,” he thought. Even without the high school kids, the bus was crowded. The blast would kill lots of passengers. The nail bomb alone would cause a ton of carnage.

  Ibrihim reached between his legs and unzipped the duffle bag. He reached into the bag and felt the detonator. He flipped three of the four toggle switches. A few seconds after he flipped the fourth switch, the bomb will explode.

  He began to pour sweat. All of a sudden, his body shook. What an unexpected occurrence. How can I be so scared to die when death is all I dreamed of - for years? Now that death is minutes away, I am petrified.

  He glanced out the window. The bus passed Fiftieth Street and was on its way to the Fifty-First Street bus stop. The last stop for Ibrihim.

  Ibrihim closed his eyes and prayed for the courage to carry out his mission.

  Chapter 28

  “What do you mean, the busses are running? Why are the fucking busses still running?” Carson kneed the back of the driver’s seat. “Well?”

  The burly cop turned around in his seat and gave Carson an angry look. “We found a subway map posted in the perps’ apartment. A large red X marked a spot midway in the train tunnel, under the East River where the B train runs. The Atlantic Avenue subway station was circled in red ink. So we closed both the Atlantic Avenue and Pacific Street subway stations. We even shut down the Long Island Rail Road, out of an abundance of caution.” He took a breath. “There was no evidence of a bus attack, so there was no reason to stop bus service.”

  “The busses should have been shut down!” Carson stamped his feet. He wanted to punch the back of the driver’s seat, but his hands were still cuffed. “Will someone please take these cuffs off of me?”

  Carmella reached over with her handcuff key.

  Carson leaned over so Carmella could reach his hands. “Where is Ibrihim heading?”

  Carmella gasped. “Oh my God. Ibrihim.”

  The burly cop asked, “Who is Ibrihim? We found three men in the apartment and all three are in custody.”

  Carson looked at Abdul and shoved him hard in the chest with his palms. “Abdul, tell him about Ibrihim.”

  Abdul shook his head up and down. “Ibrihim. Ibrihim bomba! Bomba!”

  Chapter 29

  A seventy something year old man, wearing the traditional garb common to members of the Hasidic Jewish sect that live in the Borough Park section of Brooklyn, held on to the chrome bar above a young Palestinian man’s head.

  The bus swayed as it pulled into the 45th Street bus stop. The old man swayed with it. He stood over the young Palestinian boy. The boy sat in the middle seat facing the rear door of the bus. His pale face dripped sweat beads onto the black duffle bag resting between his feet. The boy’s trembling right thumb and pointer finger found the metal tab on the zipper and slowly unzipped the bag.

  The boy could not have been older than nineteen, his skin clean cut and smooth. A drop of sweat rolled down his nose and hovered at the tip.

  Why didn’t the boy wipe it away?

  Samuel held a clean tissue out. “Son, use this.”

  The boy stared at the floor. Samuel stared at the boy. The boy’s right hand was deep inside the bag now. Samuel shifted his position to make room for high-school girls. As he moved over, he peeked inside the duffle bag.

  Samuel gasped. Oh, no. It cannot be!

  The bag was full of wires and bundles of dynamite! Was he in Brooklyn or on the Gaza Strip? This cannot be happening. Not here!

  The boy closed his eyes and whispered, “إلهة عظيمة”.

  Samuel heard those words before, over thirty years ago. While shopping in a marketplace in Jerusalem, a man wearing a vest pinned with grenades yelled “God is great” and dived into a crowd of shoppers. The man exploded. Arms and legs landed all around Samuel. By the grace of God, Samuel survived with just cuts.

  Would he survive this time? He glanced at the high-school girls. They were smiling and giggling, deep in hushed conversation. They were probably talking about boys. They are too young for this. They have their whole lives to live. Samuel lived his life. It was a good, long life. He buried Sadie last year and the boys were grown men with families of their own.

  These girls would not die today. Samuel will make sure of it.

  Chapter 30

  The busses were still running! Carson was aghast. The cops stopped the trains because they found the subway map. They did not stop bus service because they did not find the bus map. Where was the bus map? Not in the apartment or the cops’ would have found it by now. Ibrihim must have it! Ibrihim’s original target was the train. Now that he was hitting the bus, he needed the bus map.

  “Ibrihim is going to Borough Park to explode a bomb on the B16! We have to stop him!” Carson blurted.

  This time, the burly cop believed him without question. He slammed the gearshift in drive as Matt jumped into the front passenger seat. Carmella remained crammed in the back with Carson and Abdul.

  Less than a minute later, the police car came to a halt at the roadblock. Carmella got out and dragged Abdul with her. She told the cop that manned the roadblock to radio for a car to guard Abdul.

  When she got back in the car, Matt said, “That cop is going to hate you. Dumping our bag of shit on him like that.”

  “Yeah, he’s probably calling me all sorts of names, as we speak. But we have no choice. We can’t take Abdul with us.” Carmella shrugged her shoulders. “Now, let’s get to Borough Park.”

  Burly Cop switched on the lights and siren and sped down Fourth Avenue to Seventeenth Street. When he merged onto the Prospect Expressway he asked Carson where in Borough Park to drive.

  “Give me a minute to think.” Carson pictured the bus map. He held it for only a minute before Ibrihim grabbed it back. He remembered the red circle around the bus stops on Thirteenth Avenue. “Does anyone know if there is a train station near Thirteenth Avenue that services the B train?”

  “Yeah, there’s a train station on Fifty-Fifth Street and New Utrecht Avenue, just a few yards from the Thirteenth Avenue bus stop,” said Carmella. “When I was a kid, I caught the B train there and took it into Coney Island. It is a busy station, especially the Manhattan bound platform.” Carmella took a deep breath. “It’s a perfect target for a suicide bom
ber!”

  Carson nodded his head. “Then, that’s the place.” He looked at the driver’s seat and said to the back of Burly Cop’s head, “Take us to Fifty-fifth Street and Thirteenth Avenue.”

  “Okay. I’ll have us there in a few minutes,” he said.

  “What’s your name?” Carson asked. “I mean, I have to call you something.”

  “Tony Fusco,” he said without taking his eyes from the street.

  “I’m Richie Carson. Mel Russo is in the back with me. You are sitting next to Matt Rosen,” Carson paused. “Wow, this is the first time I introduced myself without pretense. It feels good.”

  “I can understand that,” said Tony. “I was pulled from the Academy to do some undercover work, and let me tell you, it -”

  “Hey! I hate to interrupt this secret squirrel bonding thing you two have going on, but we have a suicide bombing to stop. Jeez, and they say women yak it up.” Carmella let out a puff of air.

  Chapter 31

  Samuel Rubenstein held the handle above the boy’s head. Heat radiated from his hand to the metal handle. He must alert the bus driver about the bomb. He has to stop this terrible thing from happening.

  Sam took his burning hand off the metal handle and trekked towards the front of the crowded bus. He rode this bus every weekday morning for twenty years so he knew the bus driver. Frank drove this route for twelve years.

  During Christmas week, Frank passed out candy to all the kids. Christians, Jews and Muslims all got red and white Candy Canes. Every kid smiled when Frank handed him a candy cane.

  Sam has seen Frank leave the driver’s seat to assist an elderly person climb the stairs. He has always been pleasant. Frank was calm and sensible during emergencies.

  The time Yuri kicked out the window frames on the bus, Frank kept calm and did not call the police. Instead, he pulled the bus over and safely evacuated the passengers. Frank waited while Sam trotted the few blocks to Yuri’s house. Yuri’s son ran to the bus and took his father home. Yuri was a regular and Frank knew something was medically wrong with him. He was not a violent man.

  Frank was disciplined by the Transit Authority for loosing time and allowing the bus to become damaged. Sam overheard the dispatcher talking into a radio. He would never have known, otherwise. Frank never said a word.

  These thoughts spun around Sam’s head while he traversed to the front of the bus. He reached the driver’s seat just as the bus arrived at Fifty-Third Street.

  While Frank was braking, Sam whispered into his ear, “Listen carefully and try not to react.”

  Frank straightened up and cocked his head. “Sam, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  “A young man seated in the back of the bus has a bomb in a black duffle bag, between his legs. His hand is on the detonation switch. He is sitting across from the rear door.”

  “Oh my God.” Frank took a deep breath. He craned his head to look in the mirror over the rear door.

  “Do you see him?”

  Aside from the straphangers’ heads, Frank could see nothing. “No, the bus is too crowded.”

  “Well, I’ll go back and stop him somehow.”

  “Sam, wait. I heard on the news that almost two hundred people were injured in a bombing in Israel yesterday. If that kid has a similar bomb, everyone on this bus will die.”

  “I am not going to let that happen. I swear it.”

  Frank thought quickly. “At the next stop, I will evacuate the passengers from the front of the bus. Then I’ll tackle the kid. Sam, as soon as the bus stops, hustle out the back door and stop anyone from boarding.”

  Sam protested. “I will tackle the boy. You can—”

  Frank cut him off. “No, I am responsible for the passengers’ safety – not you.” He looked at the street sign as he passed. “Keep more people from boarding the bus. The next stop is the busiest stop on the route. Keep the death count down, in case he explodes the bomb before I get to him.”

  Samuel nodded and said a quick prayer in Hebrew. Although Frank did not understand the words Samuel prayed, he trusted that they were good words. Frank responded the only way he knew how, “Amen.”

  They needed all the help they could get.

  Frank stepped on a switch near the left floorboard. An emergency message should flash on the front of the bus.

  Samuel squeezed Frank‘s shoulder and headed to the back of the bus.

  On his way through the crowd, Samuel devised his own plan. Instead of rushing off the bus when it stops, he will tackle the suicide bomber himself. Frank will never make it to the back of the bus in time. Besides, Frank has a family waiting for him at home. Samuel’s wife passed away last year and his sons have their own families now. This suicide bomber was targeting his people. It was his duty to stop him, even if it cost him his life.

  Chapter 32

  As the police car raced west along Thirteenth Avenue, Carson briefed Tony about Ibrihim. He described the black duffle bag and guessed that the detonation device would be a simple electronic switch. He described the white wires he saw strewn around the apartment floor.

  Carmella borrowed Tony’s radio and reported the situation. She requested Emergency Services Unit, the Bomb Squad, ambulances and a police supervisor to respond one block away from the targeted location. She asked them to respond without lights or sirens. She could not risk scaring Ibrihim into triggering the bomb early.

  The radio crackled with action ever since. Once the situation was reported, the NYPD reacted immediately. Carmella was proud to be part of this blue team. Still, she was scared of how it might turn out.

  “66 Sergeant to Central,” an authoritative male voice said over the air.

  “Go ahead, Sergeant,” Central acknowledged.

  “Advise Intel that the corner of Fifty-Fifth Street and Thirteenth Avenue has been evacuated. Our uniforms are out of site from the roadway, as requested.”

  “Intel read direct, Central. Thank the sergeant.” Carmella spoke into the radio.

  Carmella took a deep breath. “So, what is the plan? We are almost there.”

  Carson answered, “Since I am the only person who knows what Ibrihim looks like, I will sneak on the bus from the back door and tackle him before he gets a chance to recognize me.”

  “Okay,” said Matt. “I will get on the front and pretend to be a passenger. He does not know what I look like or that I am a cop.”

  Carmella thought about it. “That sounds good. Except, Carson may not have time to tackle Ibrihim. He might be forced to take him out right away.”

  She unclipped her holstered Chief revolver from her waistband and held it out to Carson.

  Carson waved his hands, “No way. You may need it, yourself.”

  “I will be boarding the bus behind Matt. You need it more than I do. Richie - Just take it.”

  Carson took it. The Chief felt good in his waistband, as if he always wore a gun.

  “Ahem.” Tony seemed to have a hairball caught in his throat. “Ahem, ahem”.

  Carmella could not help but chuckle.

  “And Tony,” she said. “You will be the arresting officer. Once Ibrihim is safely disarmed, handcuff him and transport him to the Sixty-Sixth Precinct. If he is injured, handcuff him no matter his condition and get him to the hospital.”

  Tony was speechless, overwhelmed with the honor of getting the arrest. This would be the most important collar of his career.

  Chapter 33

  The bus passed Fifty-Fourth Street. Ibrihim lifted the black duffle bag from the floor as if it were a basket filled with eggs. He cradled it in his lap and wiped the sweat from his hands on his stained tee shirt. He returned his right hand into the bag and tightly gripped the detonation switches. All he had to do was flip the last switch. Click, and then – BOOM!

  Simple.

  Easy.

  Sweaty or not, nervous or not, scared shitless or not, he would flip the last switch. And he would reach paradise, where beautiful virgins waited.

  Why did Allah pr
omise wild orgies of virginal sex for martyrs in paradise? When one enters paradise he should no longer feel desire for mere matters of the flesh, to be part of the divine should be pure!

  Ibrihim remembered the moderate teachings of Islam he learned as a child. As a child, he felt serene at prayer times. The prayers of the radicalized version he adopted as a teenager were filled with anger and bitterness. He shook his head to shake his doubts away. Looking up, he stared into the face of an old Hasidic Jew.

  Sheikh Rahman, is the same age as the old man standing over him. Sheikh Rahman was locked up in a prison cell while this Jew freely rode the city bus!

  Ibrihim shook with anger. His doubts dissipated.

  * * *

  The police car took the left fork in the road and sped down Fourteenth Avenue. Tony detoured from Thirteenth Avenue to avoid passing the bus in which Ibrihim was riding. He could not take the chance of tipping him off.

  When Tony arrived at Fifty-Fifth Street, he shut off the lights and sirens. They had to take Ibrihim quickly and by surprise, so that he will not get the chance to set off the bomb.

  As the police car came to a stop, Carmella peered through the rear window. Emergency Service Unit Truck Six and an ambulance were on the scene. They were staged out of view from Thirteenth Avenue. Ibrihim would not see them from the bus.

  Tony and Carson pushed open their respective doors just as Matt and Carmella climbed out of the passenger side. They walked briskly, as a group, until they reached the building line, just south of Thirteenth Avenue.