Levels of Power

by Mike Gilmore

  “Marion, I’m about to e-mail you a photo from my cell phone. I need the language translated immediately. It might be nothing, but it might be very important.” Randy listened for a few moments. “Right. It will be there as soon as I can work the camera in my phone.”

  He disconnected the call and pressed the camera button on the side of the BlackBerry. Constance held the paper, and Randy leveled the camera in front of the page. He took the picture, pressed several more buttons on the keypad, and e-mailed the photo to Marion’s cell phone.

  Randy let out a sigh and looked at the other members of their little group. “Marion will send the photo to someone in his own Middle East department. Now we wait.”

  Chapter 40

  London

  Thursday, December 3, 2015

  3:30 p.m.

  They were ready. Each man was now wearing the uniform of the water company supplying the largest percentage of water to Central London. Mohammand Javan was unable to close the front zipper on his coveralls due to his massive waistline, but he would be inside the truck during the distraction phase of the operation at Trafalgar Square.

  The truck exteriors were now converted. No longer were the name and logo of the rug company displayed. Instead, each truck was showing the Thames Water Utilities name and logo along with the Field Service Division lettering on each side and across the two rear doors.

  Mohammad Javan Nik Khah, Iraj Malek-Mohammadi, and Gholam Reza Rasoulian would drive the first truck to Trafalgar Square. They would travel in from the east on The Strand and take Ducannon Street until it came to a dead end at Trafalgar Square. Iraj Malek-Mohammadi would exit the truck at the intersection and make his way from the northeast corner toward his target. Mohammad Javan would then drive to the second target and drop off Gholam. He would turn the van left onto The Strand, drive to the pickup location, and wait for his friends.

  Hossein Rahim Bonab looked at the panel trucks. They were older than the trucks currently in service with the Thames Water Utilities but he doubted anyone would notice with the time of the attack coordinated with the setting sun and the darkening skies from the approaching storm.

  The other panel truck was loaded with the twelve barrels of poisoned powder laced with the enhanced cryptosporidium. Loaded with the forklift, they rested on three heavy wood platforms. Plastic strapping material enclosed the barrels to prevent them from sliding off the skids during transit to the water reservoir. Hossein and Shir Mohammad Moez Ardalan would handle the real attack while the others created havoc exactly where the British authorities would be watching and had concentrated their forces.

  Hossein looked at each man; the members stood in a straight line for inspection, almost like soldiers before a battle. Indeed, they were soldiers, carrying the battle to their enemy. Their enemy outnumbered them, but surprise and diversion would be on their side.

  He stopped in front of Mohammad Javan. He was several inches taller than the massive giant was and could not wrap his arms completely around the man’s wide shoulders. Nevertheless, he gave his friend a hard slap to the right shoulder and then grabbed his shoulders with both hands. They embraced.

  Mohammad Javan’s long curly black hair stuck out several inches along the sides and back of the billed cap. Hossein smiled at his friend and reached up to remove the hat. He placed it in Mohammand Javan’s right hand. “Don’t forget to shove your hair up inside the hat. We must not have you looking like a slob. You have to look like every one of the British bastards.”

  Next in line was little Iraj Malek-Mohammadi, the bomb maker. Taller by at least three inches, Hossein towered over the youngest member. Iraj always seemed to have a small smile on his face. He was only in his late teens, and his beard pattern was not fully developed. Unlike Mohammad Javan’s hair, Iraj’s hair was styled in a close-cut butch. His outer jacket was slightly long in the sleeves. Hossein reached down and rolled each sleeve up one turn. “We don’t need you getting tangled up when you’re working with the detonators and arming the bombs.”

  Iraj’s smile turned to a full grin. His teeth, heavily stained from his smoking habit, were a dingy yellow color. He lightly punched his leader in the chest with a pointed index finger. “You remember what I taught you about how to insert the blasting caps into the block of explosive. Don’t let Shir Mohammad do it or you will both see Allah before your time.”

  Gholam Reza Rasoulian was next to be inspected by the leader. He was equal in size and shape to both Hossein and Shir. He was the quietest, but Hossein knew it was not due to nervousness or fear. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Gholam was the most deadly of the group with both the handgun and the Mini Uzi.

  Hossein gave him a simple nod and moved on to Shir Mohammad Moez Ardalan. Shir gave him both a smile and nod. “I am ready. I will not disappoint you tonight.”

  Hossein simply gave him a return nod but did not reveal his thoughts. You will not disappoint me tonight because I will kill you myself after we have accomplished our mission.

  He took two steps back from his men. “We are ready. Allah will be with us.”

  Two minutes later the vans pulled out of the steel building, leaving the dark interior filled with packing crates and hundreds of Persian rugs. The promised rain was starting to come down, softly at first, but within a few minutes, as the vans neared the end of Newby Street, it was falling hard and the wind was picking up.

  Hossein let Shir Mohammad drive their van. “This rain will help to cover our work tonight. The British authorities will be keeping their heads down and drinking their tea in some warm and dry place. They will not see us coming.”

  Chapter 41

  Richmond, VA

  Thursday, December 3, 2015

  10:30 a.m.

  The Virginia Center Commons was a large shopping mall located off exit forty-three of the I-295 outer belt in Richmond, Virginia. The shopping mall, built in a bent dogleg design, consisted of a longer leg slightly more than 1,300 feet in length and a shorter leg nearing 661 feet. As with all shopping malls, they needed large retail establishments, or anchors, to bring in the shoppers. In the case of VCC, they were fortunate to have four major outlets. JC Penny, Sears and the Sears Auto Center, Burlington Coat Factory, and Macy’s were big attractions for shoppers. Together with these well-known retail outlets, the shopping mall contained nearly seventy-five smaller retail shops. Open seven days a week, the mall provided most shoppers with whatever he or she required.

  One end of the long leg of the mall was vacant. It was large enough to attract a fifth anchor store, but the last tenant had moved out at the end of their lease. The leasing corporation for the mall ownership was in negotiations with another retail outlet. The talks, stalled over the cost per square foot of rental fees, were keeping a large section of the mall empty during the holiday shopping season. When the local general manager for the mall received a telephone call from a White House aide asking if they could rent the 89,000 square feet for a few days to set up before a speech by the president, the general manager had jumped at the opportunity.

  As with most previous renters, the recent tenants had left the space in need a lot of cleaning to prepare for a public event. The manager quickly computed the expected cost to make the space usable and then tripled the amount. To that figure, he added the actual cost for a one-day event plus the time before the event for setup and the time after the event for teardown. When he completed all the mental mathematical calculations and added his profit, the figure came to nearly four months’ worth of the normal rent he would get for the space. To his surprise, the offer was quickly accepted; the office facsimile machine returned a signed contract from the White House within a few hours.

  The bus caravan conveying Harold Miller and his entourage arrived from Alexandria exactly on schedule. Along with the bus carrying the president, his traveling staffers, and members of the media, the Secret Service had a convoy of four black sports utility vehicles lo
aded with heavily armed agents clad in black SWAT uniforms. Four Virginia State Patrol cars spearheaded the convoy in front of the bus, and another three cruisers followed behind, effectively filling the lanes of I-95 south from Alexandria. Security personnel blocked off every intersection from Alexandria to Richmond for fifteen minutes prior to the motorcade’s arrival and another ten minutes after it passed.

  The bus pulled into the parking area near the rear loading docks, and the advance team of Secret Service agents took immediate control of conveying the president and his closest staffers into the building through a walk-in door and then into an office normally used by the shipping clerk. The members of the press were escorted into the building through another entrance into the open area normally filled with displays stocked with a variety of goods for sale.

  The general manager for the building complex might not have recognized his own facility due to the miraculous transformation conducted by the president’s advance team. One thousand metal folding chairs, divided into five large V-shaped sections filled the huge open area left vacant by the previous renter. The aisles between each section started at the large entrance from the shopping mall’s common area and led up to the front of the room, where a raised platform had been constructed and covered with royal blue carpeting. The raised sides of the platform now displayed patriotic red, white, and blue plastic material. Banners hanging from the ceiling or attached to the walls displayed a variety of short slogans. Support the Fair Share Bill and Call Your Senator Today emphasized the message the president would soon deliver. The American and presidential flags stood proudly on the stage.

  An expensive portable sound system, rented by the White House, guaranteed that the huge crowd and, more importantly, the members of the media could hear and record the president’s speech. Members of the advance team had worked right up to just a few minutes before the president’s motorcade arrived to ensure every decoration provided the perfect image for the event.

  Alison Warden was the senior White House Staffer in charge of the event. She made a last-minute inspection from the top of the stage as she looked out into the portable spotlights set up to illuminate the stage when the president made his entrance. Off to the right, a local high school band was playing popular selections from Broadway musicals to keep the waiting crowd entertained until Harold Miller took the stage.

  The one thousand chairs were almost full. All the people attending had entered from the mall’s common area and passed through metal detectors under the watchful eyes of dozens of Secret Service agents. To say the senior agent in charge had been a royal pain about this hastily scheduled public event to promote the president’s Fair Share Bill was quite an understatement. To do three events in one day with less than seventy-two hours to prepare had taxed the Secret Service and Alison’s own team.

  So far, the day had gone smoothly. The bus ride from Andrews Air Force Base on I-395 to I-95 and to Alexandria had been uneventful. The reporters were delighted to get such close access to the president; he had spent nearly the entire thirty-minute ride of the first leg walking the center aisle of the bus, laughing and joking with member of the press. They might not be quite so happy after they learned the president would be flying back to Washington after the last event aboard Marine One from the Norfolk Naval Shipyard directly back to the White House.

  From Alexandria to Richmond was about ninety minutes. Miller had used the time to answer the reporters’ questions.

  From the Washington Post: “Mr. President. The polls are showing the public is starting to listen to the three senators holding the floor of the Senate, and support for your Fair Share Bill is weakening. Will the three stops today bring the support back?”

  Miller kept a full smile on his face. “We think the support has always been with us, but Americans need to take care of their everyday needs. They have jobs to go to and children to raise. If the three senators would take time to look around themselves they would find they are very alone.”

  From the Richmond Times Dispatch: “Mr. President. Why did you select Virginia for today’s three stops? Are you singling out Senator Saunders? He seems to be the leader of the three senators.”

  Miller decided honesty was the best answer to the question. With a large grin across his face, he answered the question in a loud voice. “Yes!” He got the expected laughter from the reporters. “Senator Saunders informed the members of the Senate that his supporters have voted him into office after his no-tax pledge. If we are to convince the good senator to drop his stranglehold on the Senate, then we need to convince the people of Virginia and have them tell Senator Saunders to sit down.”

  Again, the president received a mixture of laughs from the hardened reporters.

  From the Miami Herald: “Sir. Can we assume your trip tomorrow to Florida will be aimed at Senator Hanley?”

  Miller retained his smile. He was warming up to the exchange with the reporters. “Either one of the three senators can stop the filibuster. I think what they are doing is wrong and disrespectful to the Senate as a whole and to the American people. I spent many years in the Senate, and never once did I have to resort to a filibuster. Today in Virginia, we will take our message directly to the American citizens who voted to put Senator Saunders into office. Tomorrow we will go to Florida. If the filibuster is still going on, we will travel to Senator Laird’s home state. I will not give up my effort to make large American and foreign corporations pay their fair share.”

  The governor of Virginia stood off to the side with the mayor of Richmond. The mayor would shortly introduce the governor, who was ready to make his own opening remarks and then introduce the president. The governor had been traveling with them on the bus from Andrews Air Force Base and would use the same speech he had delivered in Alexandria. Alison Warden gave both of them a smile and thanked them for all their work to help bring the event off smoothly. When the final musical number was almost finished, she left the stage area and walked back to the room where the president was mentally preparing to deliver his speech. He looked up from wherever his mind had taken him as she entered the room between the squad of agents surrounding the president.

  “We’re all ready to go whenever you want to start, sir. Mayor Collins of Richmond and the governor are on stage getting them warmed up for you.”

  Miller nodded. “Good. Let’s get this started and then move on to Chesapeake.”

  Chapter 42

  London

  Thursday, December 3, 2015

  4:45 p.m.

  Any driver can attest that rain will affect traffic patterns and movement in any large city. London was no exception. The harder the rain, the more congested the traffic flow.

  With temperatures in the low forties, London drivers became more cautious of surfaces on the many bridges leading out of Central London. The surface area of any bridge can freeze quicker than typical road surfaces. The heat in the ground and below the surface will keep roads from freezing. Bridges, lacking heat from the ground, froze quicker than the roads.

  Mohammad Javan was fuming at the congested traffic and the delay in reaching Trafalgar Square. Their plan called for Iraj to detonate his bomb at the base on Nelson’s Column just before 5:00 p.m. Gholam would have entered Charing Cross Station just minutes before the first planned explosion and placed his bomb near or beneath the electric signs showing the trains’ arrivals and departures at the station.

  The bomb at the square would detonate and cause widespread panic within the entire area. Many would rush to the train station in hope of seeking shelter and escape on the trains or the underground tube station. Once in the station, the British would assume they were safe. Then the terrorists’ second deadly explosion would detonate, leaving many dead. The diversion would be complete.

  The dual explosions, along with the false information left inside the backpack and camera by Hossein and Shir Mohammad would reinforce the security services’ belief that Centra
l London was the main target. They would have no choice but to bring additional security resources into Central London, away from the outer boroughs, granting Hossein and Shir Mohammad unfettered access to the Honor Oak underground storage facility and plenty of time to pour the cryptosporidium powder into the huge tank.

  Driving northwest on The Strand, they were finally approaching their first turn. At Southampton Avenue, Mohammad Javan turned right, drove two blocks to Henrietta Street, and made a left turn. The traffic congestion was less. Many of the streets in the area were one-way and shorter.

  Henrietta Street came to a dead end at Bedford Street. He turned right, drove one block to King Street, and turned left onto New Road. After two long blocks, the street came to a dead end. He waited for the light to make the left turn onto St. Martin’s Lane. He had three long blocks to drive before they finally made it to Williams IV Street, then a left turn and a short distance to Charing Cross Road and the A-400. From there the distance to the northeast back corner of Trafalgar Square was less than three hundred and fifty feet. To their right was the National Portrait Gallery; the Church of St. Martin’s in the Fields stood on their left.

  Iraj and Gholam had kept silent throughout most of the drive from Newby Street. Occasionally one would comment on the rain when it came down harder. Both were ready to sacrifice their lives to accomplish their mission. As they slowly inched their way toward the square and the location chosen for Iraj’s drop-off point, they felt the wind picking up strength, whipping around the corners of the van. Off in the distance they could make out the lights of Trafalgar Square and see the people who were taking short cuts through the center of the square to shorten the distance they needed to walk to their homes or the underground tube station at the southeast corner.

  The tension inside the van increased as distance to the target decreased. Mohammad Javan looked at the traffic and his wristwatch. He finally broke the silence inside the van. “Iraj, you will have to delay the detonation longer until we get closer to the train station. If you blow the bomb too soon, we will miss out on killing many of the British when they gather inside the station for protection.”