The Third Cell

by Anthony D'Egidio

  Daniel shuffled the cards. “Finally I’ve had a decent night and won a few hands.”

  “Now you only need a couple of years of decent nights to win back all you lost,” quipped Howard as he looked at his cards. What, another dismal hand? I wonder if he’s dealing from the bottom of the deck.

  Daniel threw a couple of one hundred dollar chips on the green felt top table when the television broadcast was interrupted, “We have late breaking news that President Obama will be addressing the public tonight at ten thirty with an important announcement.”

  Howard checked his watch. “That’s in forty-five minutes. It’s pretty unusual that the president would be making a speech this late.”

  Jonah got up and turned on the remaining televisions. Flipping through the channels he found other stations with the same news. “Even the major broadcasters are breaking their normal programming to report the speech. It’s got to be something big. Howard, have you heard anything out of Washington?”

  “Nothing from my sources,” remarked Howard. “This card game is over as far as I’m concerned.”

  Daniel threw down his chips in disgust. “I’m finally on a roll and you’ve bailed out on me?”

  Howard raised his hand to silence Daniel. “Enough. I’ll be glad to give you a couple of thousand dollars just to shut you up. Let’s find out what’s going on.”

  As the discussion was going back and forth, one of the television news stations proclaimed, “Reliable sources have stated that Osama bin Laden has been killed. We are awaiting an official announcement from the president.”

  The three men sat in complete silence, anticipating President Obama’s announcement, listening to the speculations being forwarded by the news stations.

  It was Jonah who spoke first. “Howard, how come you didn’t know this was going down?”

  Howard didn’t answer. He just sat there shaking his head in disbelief.

  Before Jonah could continue his questioning, the television cameras switched to the White House and President Obama walked up to the podium.

  After the president’s speech, Jonah rose to his feet. “A compound in Abbottabad, Pakistan and he’s been living right next to a military complex? Elements in Pakistan have been in bed with al-Qaeda for years. It seems impossible that the Pakistani intelligent community didn’t know this and were protecting him. Now we’ll hear a bunch of denials from them, but that country is nothing more than a den of thieves and murderers. Not one Pakistani rupee has been given to the Palestinian cause in the last sixty years. It’s a good thing I don’t need Pakistan to carry out our plans.”

  Daniel interrupted Jonah’s rant. “Remember we have two Pakistani nuclear engineers who are critical to completing the mission.”

  “I’m keenly aware of that,” retorted Jonah. “That’s why we have Sergeant Navarro constantly monitoring them. So far they’ve not shown any sign of allegiance to al-Qaeda, the Taliban or radical Islamic clerics. I don’t need the mission upset by some misguided fanatic who are more concerned with their ideology than with our goal of a Palestinian homeland, free from Israeli intrusion.”

  Jonah turned to Howard his voice resonating with anger, “I rely on your network to keep us informed of everything the U.S. government is doing in counter-terrorism to protect our combatants. Is there some new government agency that you don’t know about? How could all your sources fail you? I am most concerned for Allāh’s soldiers and the mission. I want you to fly to Washington tomorrow and give me a full report.”

  “Do you really think every operation is shared?” Howard’s voice quivered. “I have provided stellar information for over thirty years and have prevented the mission from being detected. What happens in the White House situation room is beyond top secret. I can’t even find out who’s in these meetings. Only the heads of the agencies are there and they’re not saying anything to their subordinates. This policy started under Bush, when there were several leaks regarding the surge in Iraq. Obama continued the same tight lipped sessions and no one is sure what is taking place in the situation room.”

  Jonah was still not comfortable. “We are a long way from implementation of the mission. Our timetable is fixed and we don’t have a backup plan that includes a date change. We must have a complete assessment of our exposure by Wednesday.”

  “What about the combatants? Do you think they’ll become disillusioned by bin Laden’s killing and lose interest in the mission?” asked Daniel.

  “Al-Qaeda and bin Laden were never the focal point of our men,” replied Jonah. “They’ve done nothing for the Palestinian cause, and have lost the support of the vast majority in the Middle East, with their indiscriminate killings of Muslims. Let’s give Sergeant Navarro a call and get his analysis of the men’s reaction to this news. “

  Howard walked out of the media room and hit the speed dial on his cell phone as soon as there was a signal. After a couple of rings he heard a familiar voice, “Yes Howard.”

  “Sarge, get on the VHF radio.”

  Howard hung up immediately to make sure the cell phone signal couldn’t be locked on. He walked back into the media room and proceeded to where the VHF transceiver with digital encryption was mounted.

  Howard picked up the microphone and using the keypad, punched in the frequency of a predetermined channel. “Sergeant, I need an assessment of the men on the news that Osama bin Laden was killed by the Americans.”

  There was a long pause before the sergeant replied. “Most of the men are pretty subdued. Many believed bin Laden was fighting in Afghanistan with the Taliban. To find out he’s been living comfortably in a house while others are suffering under horrible conditions makes the men somewhat jaded about his true intentions. Others don’t believe he’s been killed and it’s nothing but propaganda.”

  “What about the two Pakistani nuclear engineers?” Howard asked.

  “At the end of the speech, Arshad and Faiz got up and returned to their room not saying anything.”

  “Strange they wouldn’t have any comments, especially since the killing took place in Pakistan. Keep an eye on them. We don’t need anyone screwing up the mission when we’re this close to implementation.”

  Howard turned off the VHF transmitter not waiting for a response from the sergeant.

  Turning to Jonah, Howard spoke, “You heard the conversation. Guess there’s nothing to worry about right now. But as far as I’m concerned I’m not letting anything interfere with our final goal.”

  All the men nodded in agreement. They all knew that the mission would go on as planned and the timing was imperative.

  CHAPTER 30

  IN THE NAME OF ALLĀH, MOST GRACIOUS, MOST MERCIFUL

  Cooper Farms

  Daniel took his formulation for the improvised explosive device (IED) and tested it at the shooting range. On all four sides of the bunker he placed human-size targets at a distance of eighty feet from the canisters. The first explosion brought the men in the recreation hall running to the firing range, which was a quarter mile from their residential complex. Arriving at the scene, they couldn’t believe their eyes. Every target had been hit by the Teflon ball bearings, from the ankles up to the head. If a human had been in the field of fire they would be dead.

  Daniel supervised the formulation of the ANFO explosives. The bags of ninety-nine percent pure ammonia nitrate prills were stored in the farm fertilizer shed. This was the same fertilizer used on the farm for the plantings. The diesel oil resided in a one thousand gallon tank used for the farm vehicles. Any farmer in America had the means to make an ANFO bomb mixture.

  When the time came, the one hundred pound bags of fertilizer would be opened and soaked with ten pints of diesel fuel, which was equivalent to ten pounds in weight, the ideal ratio. After half an hour of soaking, the remaining fuel oil would be drained off, resulting in a ANFO mixture with an explosive force equal to eighty percent of TNT of the same weight. Once the ANFO was created it had about a one-month shelf life. A week ahead of the schedul
ed placement they would then mix the ANFO with the Teflon ball bearings and load the mixture into the canisters. When compressed into the canisters, the ANFO mixture became highly explosive when ignited.

  Forty plastic barrels of an industrial premixed ANFO had been purchased by Jonah’s limestone quarry business. These were also being stored at Cooper Farms.

  Daniel supervised the careful mixing of the purchased ANFO with Nitromethane, an organic compound used as a racing fuel, which could increase the force of the explosion. This compound was used in the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah federal building in Oklahoma City. It took thirteen of these barrels to devastate the building, which was not in a confined space as in the nuclear reactor containment buildings. Daniel calculated that the explosion of twenty barrels of ANFO would be equivalent to eight thousand pounds of TNT, enough force to destroy any containment building. The forty barrels would be divided between the two tractor-trailers scheduled for delivery to the nuclear reactor sites.

  Both of Jonah’s former properties had signs along the perimeter warning that heavy pesticides had been used and to not enter the premises. Jonah had spoken to his key interface at Zodiac Incorporated, explaining the spraying process. The man was more than agreeable since Zodiac had no intentions of starting construction until the following March.

  Inside the empty Cooper Farms vegetable storage facility, two ten-wheel tractor-trailers had been painted with the logos of Southern Mechanics, LLC, a major construction firm who had contracts with Florida Electric Utilities to maintain the buildings and infrastructure at the Florida Ridge and Cutler Point nuclear reactor sites.

  The television broadcast vehicle had been prepared and updated with the West Palm Beach Television Station, WAVW Channel 13, logos and exterior paint. They replaced the vehicle’s front end to replicate the latest model being used by the station. It looked exactly like the WAVW vehicle from the outside, but the interior was slightly different. The vehicle looked close enough for their use and with all the confusion no one would be able to tell the difference.

  Included in the list of vehicles were eight school buses that would be used to transport the residents, six ATVs for patrolling the grounds and four-all-wheel drive pickups, each outfitted with the machine guns. The pickups would be slated for Beekman Estates along with one million rounds of ammunition. For the past year stockpiles of explosives had been moved from the limestone quarry in Dade County to the farm, right after the annual state audit.

  Food and water, along with many mechanical tools, the explosives, and assault rifles now converted to automatic weapons by the machinist, were loaded into the bogus Southern Mechanics tractor-trailers. Many of the same materials were packed into several Phoenix Lawn Maintenance trailers that were previously used for transporting equipment. Four of the single shot 50-caliber sniper rifles with scopes were sent with the Phoenix Lawn Maintenance trailers. The other two were split between the Southern Mechanics trailers.

  The German VHF transceivers and Russian Military night vision goggles with helmets were divided between the two groups. There were a total of four satellite cell phones, two of which would be at the nuclear reactor sites, one with Sergeant Navarro and the other in Howard’s possession.

  At the Beekman Estates four crews worked the previous week, uncovering the buried stainless steel irrigation pipes and setting up the firing mechanism. One of the board members who was playing golf and saw the activity by Phoenix irrigation inquired.

  “We’re upgrading the irrigation equipment as per our contract, Sir,” was the answer by the operative in charge of the work.

  The man accepted the explanation and the operation continued. Once all the pipes had been exposed and the buried wiring tested, they ran tests activating the main irrigation panel remotely from a laptop computer that could be controlled from inside the clubhouse. It all worked perfectly, just as Jonah had designed over fifteen years ago. Each canister was numbered and the information stored on the computer. Large numbers representing the location were tacked on nearby trees or taped to the perimeter wall. They wired the igniter primers into place and gently slid the ANFO canister into each of the tubes, sealing off the top with insulating foam from a pressurized canister.

  December 20th: With only four days to go, the work was at a feverish pitch. The three cell members met for a final time to review the activity and plans.

  Daniel gave his assessment. “We’ve successfully loaded the canisters into the stainless steel housings at Beekman Estates. Interestingly, no one in the community questioned the large numbers posted on the trees and the walls near each canister; they are too preoccupied with the upcoming holidays. After our test last month at Cooper Farm, I’m confident that if we set these off, we’ll take out so many of the intruders, they’ll not try another assault.”

  Daniel, knowing the other two cell members was worried that his wife could be a problem, said, “By the way, Traci is visiting with Michelle in Washington.”

  Howard hadn’t thought about Michelle in weeks, even though he was still living in the house they both had shared. His mind was filled with the plans of the mission and he had no time for personal matters. Michelle has been the end to justify the means and she’ll always be special to me, but I have to move on in my quest for Allāh and the Palestinian people.

  Howard broke out of his thoughts. “As long as Traci is there she’s safe. If Traci comes back before we strike, she’s as expendable as anyone else.”

  Daniel just nodded in agreement.

  Jonah reviewed the final plan. “We have everything ready to go at Cooper Farms. We’ll implement the assault on the afternoon of December twenty-fourth. By early Christmas morning, the world will know our intentions and we must be prepared for an assault from law enforcement and the United States Armed Forces.”

  “Yes, I agree,” replied Howard. “Being Christmas Day is going to work in our favor. The country will be lightly manned in all aspects. I’m sure that the law enforcement will be at a minimum. I can’t think of any item we haven’t addressed. The men are prepared physically and mentally. All are ready to die for the cause. Are we ourselves ready to sacrifice our own lives?”

  The three rose to reinforce their will. Jonah spoke. “Let us recite from The Holy Qur’an Al-Ikhlas. (Sincerity.)”

  Together, as if they were standing again at the Mosque of the Prophet in the city of Al-Madeenah, Saudi Arabia in front of the Tomb of Muhammad where the union of the three was first solidified, they chanted over and over again.

  “Bismi Allahi alrrahmani alrraheemi

  Qul huwa Allahu ahadun

  Allahu alssamadu

  Lam yalid walam yooladu

  Walam yakun lahu kufuwan ahadun.”

  (In the name of Allāh, Most Gracious, Most Merciful

  He is Allāh, the One and Only

  Allah, the Eternal, Absolute

  He begetteth not, nor is He begotten

  And there is none like unto Him.)

  December 24th: Nervous excitement abounded at Cooper Farms as the terrorists prepared. The teams were assigned to their respective posts. All MetroMax South guards who were not one of the clandestine operatives were given the holidays off, including those assigned to Beekman Estates. At one o’clock in the afternoon, the bogus Southern Mechanics tractor-trailers left for their respective locations. Six MetroMax South guards were on duty at each of the two FEU nuclear reactor sites and would be joined by an additional four guards at each plant. Arshad Osman Hassāni and Faiz Bilal Taqi, the two nuclear engineers from the Pakistani Kanupp Pressurized Heavy-Water Reactor, were part of the guard contingent at their assigned Florida Electrical Utilities nuclear reactor sites.

  Cutler Point Nuclear Reactor Site

  3:15 P.M.: The Southern Mechanics tractor-trailer pulled up to the front gate. After the MetroMax South guard acknowledged the driver he allowed him in. The vehicle was moved to the staging area for Southern Mechanics Construction.

  Finding a parking spot, the driver shut of
f the engine just in time to hear the construction foreman shout, “What the hell are you doing here? I wasn’t aware of any materials being delivered.”

  The driver pulled out an official-looking Southern Mechanics bill of lading and handed it to the foreman. The bill of lading was one that had been taken by a MetroMax South security guard several months earlier, scanned into a computer and altered using a graphics software program. It looked just like an original.

  The foreman gave the document a brief going over and shrugged his shoulders. “Damn it, are they stupid? I’ve got most of this material; you’ll just have to take it back.”

  The driver continued to disconnect the truck cab from the trailer. “It’s Christmas Eve and I’m going home. What you do with the contents is your business.”

  The foreman walked to the back of the truck and, using the issued key for the security lock, found it wouldn’t open the lock. “What the hell is going on? There are supposed to be five anti-theft locks using the same key on all shipments. Why is this one different? If the key isn’t here by Monday I’ll cut off the lock with a torch. I should have left an hour ago.”

  The truck driver just chuckled as he drove off the premises. “By the time the holidays are over, you nor anyone else is going to want to be near this facility.”

  The driver took the truck to a nearby shopping center in Homestead where a van that contained the other terrorists already dressed in their MetroMax South uniforms was waiting. The driver retrieved his uniform from the men and dressed in the bathroom at a local restaurant while they waited for the FEU shift change that would take place at midnight.

  Florida Ridge Nuclear Reactor Site

  3:30 P.M.: The other Southern Mechanics tractor-trailer entered the site without the hassle of the construction foreman. Everyone on the Southern Mechanics payroll had left at noon for the long holiday weekend. The rig operator parked and disconnected the trailer. He then left to meet up with the MetroMax South security van. The group headed into Fort Pierce, located a restaurant and waited for the midnight shift change.