by Rafael Hines
Beer sprayed out of Felix’s mouth when he laughed and choked at the same time and Chris and John were doubled over.
After they caught their breath and settled back down Chris finally asked, “Why’d you leave the service Bunny?”
“Got wounded. Couldn’t hop away from these rounds,” he said lifting up his shirt. Above the Heckler & Koch .45 he had tucked in his waist band with the barrel going down his butt crack there were two dime sized holes in his back on either side of his spine where the bullets went in and massive scarring across his stomach where they came out.
“Bunny should have got the medal that day. He saved my life twice. He got shot in the back cause of me and I ended up getting the DSC.”
“We’ve got to hear this,” Felix said.
“Nah. I hate talking about that stuff.”
“Come on primo, tell us,” Chris said.
The bar patrons had given the four of them their space, but those within earshot stopped their conversations and leaned in to hear what few civilians ever do: the truth about war, told by true warriors.
“Okay, okay. The Team was still in Iraq. We were on escort duty. Two senators and a congressman on a fact finding mission in a war zone. They requested a Special Forces unit for security and we got the job. We were traveling in a caravan of six SUV’s.”
“They didn’t wanna use armored Humvees because, and I quote, ‘They wanted to blend in,’” Bunny added.
“So here we are driving through Indian country looking at sand and goats with a big sign on us that says shoot me.”
“And they did,” Bunny said.
“Yeah they sure did. We entered a small vill with only one main road and that’s where they bushwhacked us. They hit the lead and tail vehicles first which blocked everyone else in. I was in the last car with three CIA operatives we worked with. All three of them were shot and killed with rounds coming in from both sides.”
“Were you hit?” Felix asked.
“I was, later, but not then. Not in the car.” A shadow came over him and John paused for a moment. “I froze. I was in that shot up car in Iraq and it was like I was nine years old again riding down Avenue D with mom and dad. I couldn’t move. I’d never let my team down or hesitated before, but I was frozen in my seat and scared to death.”
Knowing how difficult it was for John to talk about his parents, Felix gently put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder as he continued with the story.
“The car kept taking rounds, but I didn’t get a scratch.” He unconsciously touched the scar on his face, which was a constant reminder of the pain and loss he felt over his parent’s murder.
“I remember screaming at the top of my lungs and not being able to hear a thing. Just silence. I was gone man. And then the back door flies open and there’s Bunny. He was sayin’ something to me, looked like he was shouting cause I could see his mouth moving, but I couldn’t hear a word he said. I just sat there staring into space.”
“And that’s when I hit him. Really cracked him too. Found out later I broke his cheek bone,” Bunny said.
“Yeah, well he almost knocked me out, but it woke me up too. Snapped me out of it just in time. Bunny pulled me out two seconds before the gas tank blew and the SUV turned into a fireball. He was lyin’ on top of me to protect me from the blast when he took the two rounds in the back. They went right through his flak jacket, front and back and stuck wet and bloody to the front of mine.”
“The vests weren’t shit back then. No stopping power. They’re much better now though,” Bunny said, roughly clapping Chris on the back. Chris smiled back nervously.
“Even with his guts hanging out he rolls over and blasts the guy that shot him. Then he turns to me and says, ‘I’m hurt bad. I need you to kill these Hajji’s so we can all go home.’”
Bunny took over. “And that’s just what he did. Half the team was dead or wounded, the other half was pinned down, and both senators and the congressman had literally shit their pants. But then here comes Johnny Bishop to the rescue, an MP 5 in each hand mowin’ down bad guys like it’s a fuckin’ video game. He’s runnin’ back and forth shootin’ one guy off the roof with one hand and blastin’ another out of a doorway with the other. I saw him take out fifteen of ‘em before I passed out. The total body count for that day was five from our side and thirty-seven from theirs. In the after-action report the rest of the team only claimed eight kills so your cousin here did the rest all on his own. He was runnin’ down the street, chasing ‘em into houses. He was…” Bunny looked up at the ceiling fan trying to find the right words. “He was an unstoppable force. A one-man army. Still is by what he just did in the park.”
“Jesus,” Chris said.
John was lost in thought remembering the details of that bloody day. He’d been a berserker. He’d killed in every way imaginable, using his guns until he was out of ammo, then attacking with a knife and finally with just his bare hands. As much as he’d been a Special Forces Operator that day he’d also been a raging nine year old kid avenging his parents’ death by killing everything in sight.
“He was shot three times and didn’t even know it.”
“One was just a graze.”
“He saved us all. After the senators got the doo doo out of their drawers they called the president. Usually takes a year, year and a half to go through the chain of command, but they fast tracked it and they were gonna give Johnny the Medal of Honor a month later. He begged, pleaded and called in every favor not to receive our nation’s highest honor.”
“What?! You turned down the Medal of Honor?” Felix asked.
“Why?” Chris asked.
“Because they pull you outta combat. Make you an Army poster boy. Your cousin here couldn’t face life away from the front lines,” Bunny said.
“Unbelievable,” Felix said, shaking his head. “Unfucking believable.”
“Don’t listen to his shit bout how he don’t deserve it, which is what he says about all his medals. This is the motherfuckin’ man right here. The badest of the bad and the bravest of the brave.”
“Come on, Bun, knock it off. You saved my life twice that day, and it was my fault you got shot. He spent a year in the hospital and had to leave Special Forces.”
“Offered me a desk job, but just couldn’t see myself pushin’ papers around for the rest of my life.”
“I’ve sent him my DSC four times and he keeps sending it back with a new thank you letter each time.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re my hero Johnny boy,” he said, easily picking him up and squeezing him so hard John’s face started changing color.
“Mine too,” Felix added. “You saved me, bro. I was this close to picking up that bag in the park. Man I would’ve been gone.” He took a long pull straight from the Hennessy bottle.
“We both would’ve been gone Cat. We’re still here. We’re alive, so don’t waste your time thinking what might have been,” John said putting his arm around Felix’s shoulder.
They all kept talking and drinking until Felix was leaning on the bar with his head down near the hand rail. John came back from the bathroom and walked up to him.
“Johnny, that you?” Felix asked without lifting up his head, still bent over and staring down at the floor.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Thank God. I’ve been looking for your shoes.”
“Think he needs some air,” Bunny said cracking up.
John walked Felix outside to see if he was going to throw up. The cool evening breeze cleared his head and they talked for ten minutes before going back inside.
While they were out front every flat screen around the bar showed pictures of John and this time Felix as well.
“Turn the music down and the TV’s up,” Bunny said.
The cousins walked back in just as the report came on.
“The Unknown Hero of Union Square has been found! His name is John Bishop and until two weeks ago he was a sergeant in the Army’s Special Forces serving in Afgha
nistan. On Saturday he single handedly killed two suicide bombers using only a Swiss Army Knife and then shot and wounded the suspected terrorist leader after confiscating one of their weapons.”
“Former Sergeant Bishop was a highly decorated Green Beret and was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross in 2007. Beyond his military achievements he is most famous or infamous for his lineage. John Bishop is the nephew and adopted son of New York crime boss Gonzalo Valdez, also known as El Gato Negro, or The Black Cat.”
“Though never convicted, Valdez and his syndicate have been linked to countless murders, in addition to drug dealing, and gambling. It is unknown what role Mr. Bishop plays in his Uncle’s crime family. Although hailed as a hero for his actions in Union Square, Mr. Bishop, who resides at 215 E. 7th Street in Manhattan, is a person of interest and may face indictment by several law enforcement agencies.”
All the news networks had similar stories. They continued to cover the terror attack in detail, but they all insinuated that John was a career criminal rather than a war hero. One network even suggested that he had been dishonorably discharged and may have worked with the terrorists before turning on them at the last minute in order to regain his hero status. There were also pictures of Felix and reports that he assaulted responding police officers during the Union Square attack. They called him a known gangster and a street thug convicted of armed robbery and murder.
“Shit,” Felix and John said at the same time.
Brooklyn, NY
Amir was hoping his luck would change and it did in a big way. Five minutes before the news cast came on and gave him the name of his target he received a call giving him the soldier’s exact location. One of his men stopped for coffee and was sitting in his cab right outside Still Bar when John and Felix stepped out for air. Taking his time to make sure, his man confirmed it was Bishop, carefully noting the scar on the right side of his face.
Excited by this golden opportunity, Amir’s pain was gone, masked by the adrenaline rushing through him. He got his people moving and his top man Khalid Mulan was waiting downstairs in a Lincoln Town Car with darkly tinted windows. As he walked out the door he spoke to the picture on the wall.
“As Allah is my witness, I will watch you and your cousin die tonight John Bishop.”
Chapter 17
Nothing
Still Bar, Downtown Manhattan
John’s phone rang and he saw it was Captain Ryan.
“John, Jimmy here. How you holding up Sarge?”
“Pretty pissed off Cap. Our names being out there are bad enough, but they’re practically calling me a terrorist and Felix, Al Capone.”
“I checked around and this smear campaign comes directly from Meecham,” Ryan said.
“Fuck me.”
“Yeah, well that’s exactly what he’s trying to do. I told you he’d come after you and believe me he’s just getting started. I’ll bet he’s got copies of your service record with his people going over every page to see where they can hurt you.”
“Anything else?”
“Just that he’s angling to get indictments against Felix and your Uncle.”
“What are the charges?”
“He’s still fishing. Trying for assaulting an officer against Felix, combined with a RICO indictment against them both. My guess is he’ll try to convict them in the press first, then force the DA and the Justice Department to do his dirty work.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“That he is. Look, I’ve contacted friends in the press and told them this story is pure bull, but these people are sharks and they smell blood in the water.”
“But none of this is true!”
“John, I learned long ago that truth and the news are mutually exclusive. All these people do is try to sell more ad space or get higher ratings, the truth be damned.”
“Okay, thanks Jimmy, I’ll be in touch.”
“Same here. I’ll let you know if I hear more.”
The place had cleared out as it was now approaching midnight. There were only two people sitting at the front of the bar speaking with the bartender, but John still moved Felix, Chris and Bunny to the back room to talk in private. He passed on everything that Ryan had said and stopped to think for a minute.
“You know, he never asked me where I was.”
“So,” Chris said.
“I think he already knows,” he said taking off his belt. He examined it closely and found the small incision where the microphone and GPS tracker had been inserted. He found an identical device attached to the battery in his cell phone and one more in his wallet.
“These are the only items that I had with me when we were held at Homeland Security. How about you?” he asked Felix.
They only found two on Felix since he’d put on a new belt. All five devices were state of the art. They put them all in a bag and Chris took them to the front of the bar where the music was loudest.
Felix shook his head. “Who’s tracking us?”
“We can’t know for sure. Meecham maybe? Director Kolter just to keep tabs? Question is, are they using us as bait so this Amir and his guys come after us, or are they trying to get some dirt on us for an indictment?”
Having already seen their Glock 19’s when they took their belts off Bunny said, “I’m glad to see you guys are armed. Saves me the trouble of getting you outfitted, but from here on I’m on both of you night and day. Twenty-four hour security.”
“Thanks Bunny, appreciate your help.”
“What about me? I can help too,” Chris said.
“Chris, I know you want in on this, but you don’t have the training. Not yet anyway. You can be a huge help though. Get to Tio and tell him what’s going on here. Being the master planner that he is I’m sure he saw all this coming and probably has guys outside watching us. Still, make sure he knows everything,” John said.
“Okay, I’ll call dad and find Tio. Hey, before I go, can I get a picture of the three of you?”
They were posing for photos along the far wall when shots rang out in front of the bar. All three had their guns drawn when a man staggered in spitting blood with an explosive device strapped to his body. Bunny and John fired a moment ahead of Felix, and Chris reflexively pressed the button on his mini camera. They saw the terrorist falling backwards from their three head shots right before the bomb detonated. There was no place to hide and no time to move. The blast came at them like a sonic freight train… There was nothing after that.
Chapter 18
National Security
Washington D.C.
The president, along with his National Security Advisor, the Directors of the CIA, NSA, FBI, Homeland Security, the Secretaries of State and Defense and several generals, including Palmer, were all seated in the Situation Room of the White House for the late night meeting. They all listened intently to the translation of the tape recovered from the hut in Afghanistan.
“Tony, what’s your assessment?” the president asked Director Kolter.
“Mr. President, that tape has given us some valuable intelligence. We know that Aziz Khan is behind the attack in New York and is responsible for the death of our five operators in Khost Province. After debriefing Colonel Edwards and examining the timeline it is clear that General Gulam Mohammed of the Pakistani ISI is Khan’s ally and warned him that our troops were on the way. It is also clear that it was Khan’s nephew, whose alias is Amir Rashad, who planned and led the attack in New York.”
“What do we know about Khan?”
Bill Webster, the CIA Director, fielded the question. “Mr. President, Aziz Khan is a powerful warlord from eastern Afghanistan. We armed and trained him and his militia to fight the Russians. After that war ended he carved out a big piece of territory for himself and was close to taking over the whole country. We estimate he has about four thousand men under his command. He has strong tribal ties and even blood relations in Pakistan. He finances his army through heroin production and distribution, but takes nothing for himself. Repo
rts are that he lives in a network of mountain caves and gives all his wealth to his men and the local population. Khan is a devout Muslim with strong ties to both the Taliban and Al Qaeda, but he’s fiercely independent and nationalistic and takes orders from no one. Bottom line, sir, he is one tough and ruthless S.O.B. who views war as a way of life.”
“How do we catch him?”
“Sir,” said General Palmer, “we definitely missed a great opportunity to capture or kill him last week. To be candid, Mr. President, we have no idea where he is now. I would suggest we try tracking him through the Pakistani traitor, General Mohammed.”
“We are working on that now Mr. President,” Director Kolter said.
“Gentlemen, we are fighting wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. We barely survived the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression and we have just endured another terrorist attack in New York. Word will soon get out that the attack is the work of an Afghan warlord with Al Qaeda ties. Aziz Khan will be called the next Bin Laden. We need a win here. Somewhere. Where are we with the nephew Amir Khan?”
“We’re building from the ground up, Mr. President,” said Terry Hall. “We recovered a lot of evidence they didn’t expect us to find. They had military grade C4 and lots of it. We recovered three hundred pounds of it from the flower truck alone. We are tracking that with the help of ATF and we should know its origination very shortly. As to the whereabouts of Amir Khan, that information is unknown at this time, but we are using every resource including the media to track him down, sir.”
“Thank God Sergeant Bishop was taking a stroll through that park. If that truck bomb had gone off thousands would have died.”
“We’re tailing him, sir, just in case the Khan’s go after him,” Kolter said.
“We’re using him as bait?”
“Not exactly. We’ve got mikes and trackers on him and we’re following from a distance. If anything we’re protecting him. If Amir crawls out of his hole and makes a try for Bishop we’ll be there to stop and arrest him. It’s a long shot anyway, but so far our sergeant has been in the thick of things, so we’re sticking to him.”