Terror Rising: Holy War- Book 2

by Roger Hayden

  “Good,” Asgar said, rising. “I need to use your restroom. Have them ready to attack when I come back.”

  By the time Asgar returned, Dari had done well. Three inter-connected monitors on his desk were up and running with a live video chat. Four separate chat screens were open on each monitor, displaying twelve operatives in all. Young men, clean shaven and eager for news. Dari stood to the side and extended an arm for Asgar to sit.

  “I contacted them all, my leader,” he said.

  “All of them?” Asgar asked.

  Dari looked down, somewhat ashamed. “All but one. He did not answer his text and can’t be found.”

  Asgar disregarded the absent member, as time was of the essence. As he sat, Bosra immediately opened the bedroom door, a hint for Dari to leave. Dari glanced at the door and Bosra’s steely eyes, making the connection. He promptly left the room without saying a word. Bosra closed the door, and Asgar sat in front of the camera, ready to begin.

  The men on the screen, sitting at desks in their small rooms, appeared surprised to see him. Their normally unseen leader wasn’t known to take part in video chats, but the stakes had changed. The luxury of anonymity had longed passed. Too many of his men had been killed and too many of their plans diverted. It was time to strike at the beast before the Americans made more gains.

  “Brothers, I’ve called you all with an urgent directive.” He paused and took a deep breath, rubbing the temples of his forehead with both hands. His operatives waited patiently, no one saying a word. “You must remember your training. And I trust that you will continue to practice the utmost care when performing your duties. I’m sure many of you saw the attacks against innocent Muslims earlier this morning. This is just a beginning of things to come. We shall retaliate and shall do it quickly. Tomorrow, I want you in your positions. And you must be ready. Once you receive the word, you shall strike accordingly. Understood?”

  “Yes, my leader.” The men said in unison

  “The time is upon us now. And I would expect nothing less than fulfillment of your duties to Allah.”

  Conviction

  Angela found Burke right where he said she would: at a dusty rest stop a few miles past the New Mexico state line. It was the middle of the night, and she was eager to get back to her daughters when she pulled into the parking lot and stopped near the restrooms.

  Semi-trucks lined the lot behind her. A group of huddled drivers stood near a vending machine, smoking. She reached for her phone to call Burke, just as he suddenly appeared at the passenger door and tapped on the window. He didn’t have any weapons on him, and his tactical vest had been removed. She could only imagine where he had stowed it all.

  He got in the car quickly after she unlocked the door. Heads were already turning their way for whatever reason. She backed out and drove off, taking in his musky scent, like that of someone who had just run a block or two. Burke had definitely been busy. And there was still much to discuss. He seemed fidgety and distracted. As she pulled out onto the interstate, he kept looking behind them as though they were being followed.

  “How are you holding up?” she asked, wondering how exactly he had traveled so far. Perhaps he would tell her.

  He responded with a shrug. “Okay, I guess. How’re your daughters doing?”

  Angela sighed. “They’re resting, which is good.” She paused and glanced at him with sincere gratitude. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you for rescuing them. You really came through on your word.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Burke said, staring ahead. He then pointed ahead to the next exit. “Get off at 44 here. That’ll take us back into El Paso, where I have everything hidden.”

  She really didn’t like backtracking, but it was Burke’s car and his rules. Her car was still parked at the Border Patrol station in Del Rio, hundreds of miles away. It was hard to believe, but in a way, she had already abandoned her previous life.

  She thought of her house. She and Doug were still making payments on it. Now their life together was no more. The weight of the realization and the endless changes ahead hadn’t fully settled in. He would never see Chassity and Lisa grow up—their children robbed of a father. Angela robbed of a husband. Where would they possibly go from here? But she had to focus on the present. If they failed to prevent the terror attacks, there would be many more people without loved ones.

  “I think you need to reconsider your priorities,” Burke said, as if reading her mind.

  “Pardon?” she said, veering off the exit.

  Burke cleared his throat and continued. “It’s time you made a decision in the interest of your daughters. Get them to safety. Get out of the country if necessary. Leave the terrorists to me.”

  “You can’t do this on your own,” she said, fiercely objecting.

  “I’m going to find Asgar, and I’m going to kill him and anyone else who stands in my way.”

  “That’s not what this is about.”

  Burke’s voice rose. “He got away from me once. It’s not happening again!”

  “There are millions of people’s lives at stake here. This is about more than vendettas.”

  Burke turned away from her, looking out the window. She didn’t know if she had gotten through to him or not. He was a hard man to read. They continued down the four-lane road past gas stations and twenty-four-hour fast-food joints. A shadowed mountain ridge was far in the horizon.

  “You have your way of looking at it, I have mine,” he said finally.

  “There was a mosque shooting yesterday.”

  “What?” Burke said, surprised.

  “A man walked into a mosque in Garland and killed fourteen people. Shot them in cold blood. Do you see where this is going? Do you realize how dire things will become?”

  “Do you?” Burke said back.

  He took a breath and told her to take a right at the next intersection. He then pulled his cell phone out and set it on the dashboard. The power was off. She could see gauze and taped bandages covering parts of both his arms. He had gotten pretty banged up during the shootout, but like Angela, he had miraculously avoided being shot.

  They had been fortunate, and it would seem that Burke wasn’t too keen about pushing their luck any further. Angela was ready to go it alone, but part of her knew that she needed him.

  “I have a plan,” she said. “I know someone who can help us. He was investigating these sleeper cells far longer than we were.”

  Burke held both hands out. “You want to bring someone in on this, by all means, best of luck. But I already told you my plan, and it’s non-negotiable.”

  She had seen the extent of his stubbornness. He was a loner, quick to judge and unpredictably violent with whomever he considered a threat. She had learned that much in the past few days, but she believed she could win him over with the right persistence.

  “There’s no sense in us splitting up now,” she said. “Why show me those documents? You know I can’t just walk away at this point. I could never live with myself.”

  Burke scratched the side of his face and then took off his black skullcap. His wavy matted hair began to rise. “I’m looking out for your safety. We’ve been lucky, Agent Gannon, but that’s not always going to be the case. Your children need a mother.”

  “My children need a country,” Angela said forcefully. “And if those attacks happen, we’re going to lose it.”

  Burke shook his head, with a slight smile. “You really don’t like taking no for an answer, do you?”

  Angela turned to him straight-faced. “I’m not going to run and hide when lives are at stake. Of course I’m concerned, even worried, but I want in every step of the way.”

  Burke took pause, looking as though he was considering it. “What is your plan exactly?”

  “We need to find my partner, Captain Martinez,” Angela said.

  Burke tilted his head back with a scoff. “Martinez? He’s one step away from a padded room. That’s what I heard.”

  “He and his f
amily are under government protection. And his mental state is fine, thank you,” Angela snapped.

  Burke waved her off as they slowed at a stop sign. “Out of the question. If the government gets their hands on me now, I’m looking at life. Maybe worse. I’ve killed dozens of men the past couple of days, all them terrorists, but they’re not going to look at it like that.” He paused and looked around. “Take a right.”

  “We have to get to him. It’s our only option. We don’t have time to start at square one. Besides… He knows people.”

  “What people?” Burke asked, surprising her.

  “A group of people the FBI was very interested in. Vigilantes. Ex-military, most of them. They call themselves the Outlaws.”

  A police car zipped past them in the other lane, and for a moment, Angela’s heart seemed to stop.

  “I’ve heard of them,” Burke said. “Not exactly friends of the government, if I recall.”

  “We should be in good company, then,” Angela said with a faint smile.

  “So you’re suggesting we link up with your crazy partner and this rag-tag militia group to stop the terrorists?”

  “Yes,” Angela said. “It’s the only way I know to stop this.”

  Burke gave no immediate response, but he didn’t object, either. Angela hoped that she had reached him. There was really no other option in her mind. She needed Martinez, and she needed Burke to get to Martinez.

  The road stretched on, flanked mostly by dimly lit trucker joints, sad and solitary in the barren desert. A road sign indicated that they were nearing El Paso, just twenty miles ahead. Wherever Burke had hidden his weapons, he wasn’t taking any chances.

  Angela asked him if he was on board. She didn’t want to push him, but she needed to know. Every minute was critical.

  “As long as I get to put a bullet in Asgar’s head,” he responded.

  Angela took it as a yes. She felt relieved. Stubborn Burke had come around after all. He signaled to a side railing with reflectors on it, and told her to slow down. She pulled onto the shoulder and stopped, and he hopped out. He said nothing as he ran off into the darkness toward a line of sand dunes fading from her vision. She imagined him tunneling underground to retrieve his arsenal. The thought amused her.

  Peculiarities aside, Burke was her best bet to stop the terrorists. Together they would avenge her husband Doug, and all the others. Burke had proven himself in that regard. Whatever anguish he was holding inside over the death of his family at the hands of terrorists seemed to have fueled an unstoppable vengeance in him. Angela knew the feeling well.

  Burke circled back to the car a few minutes later, cradling his M240B machine gun and carrying a duffel bag over his shoulders. She popped the trunk as he made his way to the rear of the vehicle and placed the items inside.

  Where are we going to get more ammo? she wondered.

  He slammed the trunk shut and got back in the car, out of breath and wiping his face clean of sweat and dirt with a handkerchief.

  “Good to go?” Angela asked.

  “Yep,” Burke said. “Let’s go.”

  Angela circled around and drove off in the direction they had come from. The thought of getting back to her daughters filled her with anticipation, more than everything else, and yet, she was curious about what else he had stowed in the trunk.

  When he didn’t offer any information, she finally asked, “What’s in the duffel?”

  “Papers. Documents. Anything I could find. We’re going to get these bastards.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she said. “Can you help me find my partner?”

  Burke thought to himself, holding his chin up. “I can contact some people, higher-ups, and get a line on him. I’m not officially a wanted man yet.”

  “Thank you,” Angela said.

  Burke stared ahead and then grabbed his cell phone, turning it on. “My question is… will he be able to find us?”

  They raced down the empty road as the night sky blended into gray. Morning was upon them, with the New Mexico state line in the distance. The approaching day brought grave concern. Anything was possible, and Angela was convinced that her life, among the lives of countless others, was hanging in a fragile balance and quickly nearing its tipping point.

  ***

  Dallas, Texas

  Monday, 10:00 a.m.

  The beginnings of the Memorial Day outdoor festival were off to a busy start. Oak Cliff Park was packed with various vendor booths and stands. There was face painting, American flags, and barbecue pits. There was a stage set up in the middle of the field, with music featuring a local bluegrass band. A World War II veteran was scheduled to deliver the festival’s opening comments, with an introduction by the Dallas mayor himself. People had arrived from all over. Families flowed in at a steady rate, eager to take part in the festivities.

  By late morning, there were already over five hundred people gathered in the park, and their numbers were growing. A comforting breeze filled the air as the sun beamed from the blue, cloudless sky. Everything was coming together at a steady rate. People were there to enjoy themselves in defiance of terror alerts and whatever troubling developments that were taking place in the real world.

  Lines of booths offered everything from giant pretzels and beer to cotton candy and apple pie. Children gathered near the inflatable bounce house, eager to get inside, as their parents walked by hand in hand. Contestants lined up at a nearby sack race, while others gathered to compete in the tug-of-war contest. The festivities were somewhat marred by the overwhelming presence of law enforcement. Dallas authorities weren’t taking any chances. Barricades surrounded most of the park, with police dispatched in large numbers to keep watch over the crowd.

  The Oak Cliff Park Memorial Day Festival wasn’t the only event besieged by an overwhelming security presence. The terror alert reached far and wide across Texas. The mosque shooting had intensified concern from city to city, but cancelling the festivities wasn’t an option. Most believed such a drastic measure would give the terrorists far more credit than they deserved.

  Kareem al Rashid sat at the wheel of his rental van outside Oak Cliff Park, carefully eyeing the event from the parking lot. He was alone, but that wasn’t the plan. His partner, Adnan, had apparently backed out and was nowhere to be found. Adnan was supposed to be his look-out, and most importantly, he was supposed to offer a diversion. They knew that security would be tight at any public event following the terror alert. The fact that their leader, Salah Asgar, had pushed the attacks up had made things even more difficult, but Kareem agreed with the decision. The time to strike was now. The Americans had to be taught a lesson.

  He sat in the van, cool air conditioning blowing on his face while calling Adnan’s cell to no avail.

  “Coward,” Kareem said under his breath. “Traitor.”

  The problem with some recruits, Kareem believed, was that their time in America had made them too soft. They feared death, whereas Kareem was ready to embrace it. To be martyred in the eyes of Allah was an honor. Adnan, it seemed, had felt differently.

  “Where are you?” Kareem said into the phone, leaving a message. “I went to your apartment and you weren’t there. Now I sit here waiting. You’re going to mess up the entire operation.” He paused, fuming. “If you do not show up in five minutes, I will see to it that everyone knows.”

  He hung up feeling outraged and desperate. His supposed partner was avoiding him. That much was clear. Kareem stared ahead, trying to gather his thoughts as the festival continued in the distance. He felt the sting of betrayal and a growing paranoia from within. Perhaps Adnan had been apprehended. Maybe he was telling the authorities about the attack plan right now. There was no sense in waiting any longer. Kareem had to act.

  The remote trigger rested on the empty passenger seat where Adnan was supposed to be. The back of the windowless van housed fifty-five pounds of explosives—several pressure cooker bombs linked together through wiring and packed with enough nails and ball b
earings to mortally wound or maim the crowd. The sheer brutality of the attack would send panic throughout the city. But it wouldn’t stop there. Other drivers were positioned and prepared to strike at soft targets throughout the state. Ten men, five targets. That was the plan. There was Dallas, San Antonio, Austin, Houston, and El Paso. And it was the first of many strikes to come.

  Kareem knew the time was approaching, and without Adnan, he’d have to drive the van through the field without a diversion. And there would be no coming back. True martyrdom was near. He bowed his head in silent prayer, prepared to do what was necessary. All he needed was the signal. He raised his head and stared out into the park, seeing not a peaceful festival under the glow of sunshine, but a potential target.

  It wouldn’t be easy getting through the barricades. And the police officers on site were armed with rifles. They could easily take him out before he made it across the field. Kareem’s main target was center stage. From there the impact of the explosion would spread to the most people. Those who weren’t initially killed by the blast would be horribly maimed. Only a few lucky ones would make it out unscathed.

  Kareem turned on the ignition as his heart pounded with anticipation. It was best to be ready. He knew that there was no calling off the strike. Asgar had made it clear enough. The cell phone resting on his leg vibrated. He grabbed the remote trigger without even looking at the text. One swipe of the screen, and the message told him exactly what he must do: The time is now. May Allah provide you strength, brothers.

  Kareem backed the van out and idled for a moment in place, examining the obstacles ahead. There were several police officers standing in front of the barricades, searching the bags and purses of those waiting entry into the festival. He’d have to draw as little attention to himself as possible until the time was right. They could easily shoot out the tires or riddle him with bullets, but he felt strangely empowered as a vessel of Allah’s will.

  He drove ahead up the parking lane, nearing the park entrance. No one seemed to take notice of his steady approach. His hands gripped the wheel, white-knuckled, as a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. With a deep breath, he pressed down on the gas as the tires skidded on the pavement and the van barreled forward like a guided missile. Heads turned his way.