Terrorist Attack Under Capitol Hill: Murder And Mayhem In D.C. (Todd Boling Series Book 1)

by R. A. Lamb

  “Don’t touch anything, Todd.”

  Captain Tillman walked over to one of his officers and Hank climbed into the rear of the van to examine the weapon. It looked like a sniper rifle with a scope mounted on a tripod, like you see on TV shows. The difference was that a metal cap was connected to a cable covering one end of the scope and two cables attached where the trigger housing should be. I watched Hank trace the three cables which led to a small black hard sided suitcase sitting on the floor. His eyes shifted to another cable running from the case up the side of the van which disappeared into the cloth ceiling. I stepped back and saw the antenna.

  “What do you make of it, Hank?”

  “Give me another few minutes.”

  I watched Hank take out his ball point pen and put the tip in the muzzle of the rifle then move it forward until it touched the rear door of the van. He closely examined the area then put his pen away and returned to the suitcase. Carefully he released the clasp and slowly opened it.

  His eyes widened and he murmured, “Son of a bitch.” Hank climbed out and motioned to Captain Tillman. “Get the bomb squad here pronto and clear the area.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Enough Semtex to flatten half this block.”

  Captain Tillman gave the order and his men acted immediately creating a new perimeter. One of his men raised a thumb and said, “Bomb squad’s on the way, Captain.”

  Everyone moved to a safe distance and we stood behind one of the fire trucks. Within ten minutes the bomb squad truck arrived. They acted as if this were a routine exercise. Two put on padded suits; two others lowered a robot on wheels and a metal control unit about three feet square and four feet high from the rear of their vehicle. The unit had a panel full of knobs and a series of joy sticks as well as a flat screen monitor.

  An officer moved one of the joy sticks and the robot was directed toward the van. When it got to the open door the robot raised itself on its pedestal and tilted forward toward the suitcase. It rotated slowly to the left then right.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Hank.

  Captain Tillman answered for him, “We’re making a digital x-ray image of the interior of the case to see if we can cut the cables to the rifle and bring out the bomb or if we need to send someone in to disarm it.”

  The officer behind the control unit studied his monitor. Another officer beside him whispered something and tapped the control officer on the shoulder.

  A second joy stick extended one of the metal arms and the cables were cut. Then two sets of robotic pinchers clamped onto the sides of the case and lifted it a few inches off the floor. The robot immediately began to back its way out of the van and toward the bomb containment container. It lowered the suitcase inside and the lid was clamped shut.

  I took a deep breath as two officers in padded suits loaded the containment vessel, the control unit and the robot into the back of their truck and secured the doors.

  I turned toward Hank, “Damn, I can’t imagine a more dangerous job.”

  Hank nodded.

  We waited several minutes; I guessed they were working inside the truck. The area was unusually quiet; then the bomb squad vehicle came to life and slowly moved off the scene and proceeded down the road.

  One of Captain Tillman’s officers wearing a headset called to him, “The bomb has been defused and will be transported to the crime lab for examination.” We all breathed a sigh of relief.

  Captain Tillman looked at Agent Holland, “All in a day’s work.”

  Hank smiled, “If you say so, Captain.”

  The tension was broken and we walked back toward the van.

  Hank was walking beside Captain Tillman, “Tell your men they earned their pay today.”

  “I will thanks.”

  Then Hank slipped back into his operations mode, “And tell the CSI’s to start processing the site. There may be some prints on those ignition keys. You know I’ve heard about it but never saw a gun rigged like this.”

  The Captain glanced inside the van, “What do you mean?”

  “Unless I miss my guess, I’d say the rifle was aimed and fired remotely using a computer and that’s a little too sophisticated for a gang banger.”

  “Who do you think it was?”

  “This smells like terrorist activity. A rig similar to this was used in a London shooting last year.”

  “I’ll be damned. How do you want to proceed?”

  Hank paused, “I want the weapon sent to our lab for processing. We’ll send you a full report.”

  “And the van?”

  “Have your team process that and pay particular attention to the rear door. It looks like there is a sliding panel which opens and gives the shooter, wherever he may be, a way to aim and fire. I would like a copy of what you find including the autopsy reports on the two victims.”

  “You’ve got it.” Captain Tillman walked back to his group and began giving orders.

  Hank turned to me, “Let’s go we’ve got a lot on our plate.”

  On the way back to Hank’s SUV, I noticed the tarp draped mounds were gone but in their place were chalked outlines where the victims fell and the dark stains which drained their lives.

  As Hank started the car I said, “There are several things I don’t understand.”

  “Like?”

  “For one, why would terrorists’ shoot someone here? I mean it’s not like there were a flock of reporters to cover the story, in fact, just the opposite. Second, if I were them why would I leave my killing machine out here for you to examine?”

  “Good questions, Todd, maybe the investigation will turn up some answers. We’ll just have to wait.”

  “One other thing, Hank.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Where were the spectators? At the safe house shooting, there were scads of people standing around?”

  “That’s a little easier, Todd, the difference is around here shootings are not uncommon. Maybe that’s why the terrorists’ choose this site. Maybe it was their test case; a way to see if the system worked.”

  Hank and I headed toward another safe house, Hank told me it was named Angel Wings and that’s where we could talk. “It’s off the interstate near George Mason University where I met you.” Hank said.

  We were almost there when my disposable phone buzzed. “Just a sec Hank. It’s Kathy from the Congressman’s office. She’s the only one who has this number.”

  “Kathy, what’s up?”

  Chapter 7

  “A male voice said, “You sound nervous. You should be, you know. Your girl would talk but the bird, shall we say, is caged.”

  I lost my voice, stared blankly at Hank and squeezed the phone.

  Hank whispered, “Put it on speaker.” He pulled to the curb as we listened.

  “I propose a meet. You and the bird will be our guests for a while. Until our chores are done, mate, then you’ll be on your way and we vanish from your lives. All’s well that ends.”

  Hank whispered in my ear and I said, “Let me talk to her.”

  We heard a chair scoot on a floor and footsteps. The metallic sound of a door unlocked. There were some angry words in a foreign tongue which were not the same as the voice on the phone.

  “Todd?”

  “Kathy, are you hurt?”

  “No, I’m okay. They --”

  “As you hear she’s well, Gov’na, and waiting for you to join us. If you choose not to --”

  Hank’s head jerked as I said, “Don’t hurt her. What do you want me do?”

  The voice on the phone paused, “Go to the locks at the tidal basin by the Jefferson Memorial and wait for instructions. You have an hour.”

  “I need more time.”

  “You don’t have it,” the phone went dead.

  Hank looked concerned, “Todd, we’ll figure out another way. It’s crazy. He’s already tried to kill you. It’s too --”

  “What choice do I have? I know they’ll hurt Kathy. She helped me when I needed
her now I’m going with or without you.”

  Hank’s eyes narrowed, “Damn it, Todd, you’re not trained for this. Maybe I can arrange a double. I’ll have some of our agents meet us at the Tidal Basin. We can --”

  “There’s no time. I can take care of myself. I’ve got to try.”

  I could see Hank didn’t like it. Seconds seemed like hours then Hank said, “Okay we’ll go. It’s dangerous but we’ll be able to track you. Part of our original plan was to give you a wire and a homing device. Look in the glove box.”

  I opened it and took out a small leather case. In it were a high school class ring and a digital watch with a Velcro strap.

  Hank glanced at me and started the engine, “The ring has a GPS microchip, range about two miles. The watch is an audio transmitter. Activate it by pressing the reset button. Try it.”

  Hank slipped a Bluetooth headset over his ear. I pressed the button. “Testing, one, two, three, can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear, Buddy, loud and clear.”

  Traffic was heavy as we raced down Interstate 66 and across the Potomac River. The Washington Monument was on our left and we turned on Ohio Drive which runs along the river toward the Jefferson Memorial. Hank pulled to a stop a few hundred yards from the tidal basin, “You’d better get out here. Don’t want them to spot us. Hang tough Todd. I won’t be far away.”

  I glanced at the watch, opened the door and started running. Show time, I thought.

  I reached the locks and nervously looked around. There were lots of tourists walking to and from the Memorial. Parents with strollers, kids running, couples walking. Everything seemed ordinary except my heart was racing and cold sweat trickled down my back.

  It didn’t take long. A motorcycle pulled over to the curb. A dark skinned guy, maybe Middle Eastern about twenty, raised the visor on his helmet and left the cycle running. It was red with chrome fenders. The rear one had a bad scrape.

  I hope your driving skills have improved, I thought.

  He motioned me to get on the back, revved the engine and we headed back in the direction I had run. I saw Hank parked in the SUV as we sped by. “Where are you taking me?” I shouted into the wind.

  The driver didn’t hear or ignored me and kept going. We continued paralleling the Potomac until we got to 66 and headed out of town. We crossed the river and took the Washington Memorial Parkway exit, passed Arlington Cemetery and pulled off the Parkway onto a side street. I looked across the Potomac. We were opposite the locks of the tidal basin. The guy parked the cycle by a group of boat docks and led me past several boats. The terrorist pointed to a small outboard tied in one of the slips.

  He got in and motioned to the middle seat, untied the bow line and pushed us off with his foot.

  I grimaced when I saw above the sneaker a brown ankle with a tattoo spiraling upward until it disappeared under the terrorist’s pant leg. Blue barbed wire.

  We headed into the river and turned downstream. I had another crazy thought; you said you would stay close, Hank, but I don’t think your SUV floats.

  The boat headed toward the opposite bank. We continued downstream a short distance, the river branched and we took a hard left. Ahead was a marina filled with houseboats. We approached a white one with a blue roof. Standing by the railing was, Mohan Suk Alkobar waiting for us. He had a nasty smirk as I climbed the ladder and stepped on the deck.

  “Have you searched him, Jamad?”

  The man in the boat shook his head.

  “Bloody fool. Take him inside and do it.”

  Jamad climbed onboard and pushed me toward a sliding glass door which led to the main cabin and galley. Inside the same foul odor of tobacco smoke that I smelled in the van made my nose burn.

  Along one wall was a worn plaid couch and next to it a green overstuffed chair on a painted metal floor. A small screen TV was on a table under one of the two sliding glass windows on an exterior wall.

  Across the room two Mid-Eastern, men were sitting at a dining table next to the galley. One was counting a stack of money and stuffing it in a plastic pouch. The other was drinking what I guessed was coffee from a small cup which was dwarfed in his dark hand. The man picked up a pack of cigarettes with a red new moon and star on the label, shook it and grabbed one between his teeth.

  Scattered on the table were several typed pages. The one with the coffee was looking at some photos and a diagram. Beside him on the galley’s counter was a clutter of pots, canned food and an opened bag of rice. I caught my breath when I saw stamped in large black letters on a torn manila envelope:

  BETA PROJECT UPDATE

  For Congressman Bradford

  EYES ONLY

  A barefooted man stood by the door gripping a knife with a curved blade. My stomach churned when I recognized the long scar on his right cheek. All three had short dark hair, black eyes and close cropped black beards.

  “Empty your pockets on the table and take off your belt,” Jamad ordered.

  “Where’s Kathy. You said --”

  “Shut up,” Jamad shouted and he slapped me across the back of my head. “Do as you’re told.”

  Alkobar entered and under his watchful eye I put my wallet, pocket change and keys on the table. The one counting the money frisked me to make sure. I stood frozen, legs spread, arms outstretched and tried to memorize every detail of the cabin.

  There was a painted metal door at one end which I assumed led to sleeping quarters and a stairway leading to a lower deck.

  “You may drop your hands but do it slowly,” Alkobar warned. “Farod’s knife is as sharp as the claw of a cat. Sudden moves make him nervous.”

  I did as I was told and stared at the scar on Farod’s cheek. I made an effort to take slow breaths hoping my pulse would do the same.

  “And leave your belt and watch on the table. You have no need for a bloody watch.”

  I pulled on the Velcro strap and managed to press the reset button before I put the watch on the table. My gaze shifted to Alkobar and thought, Hope you’re listening, Hank.

  Alkobar turned and pointed, “Jamad, drop these things over the side. Mista. Boling will not need them.”

  I tried not to show surprise and control my voice, “Where’s Kathy?”

  “Right you are.” Alkobar pointed at the metal door, “Farod, take him.”

  Farod tucked the knife in his belt and unlocked the door.

  Kathy was sitting on a bunk. She jumped up and ran to me. We hugged as the door closed and I heard the audible click of the lock.

  “I thought you wouldn’t come. You shouldn’t have come.”

  I held her tight. “Are you kidding? And miss all this fun,” but the strain in my voice betrayed me.

  The room wasn’t much, metal walls, with two small windows on the outside wall, a floor painted a dull gray and badly scratched. There were two bunk beds, a built-in bureau and a wooden folding chair sitting beside a small sink with a cracked mirror above it. A light about eye level was attached to the wall with its cord dangling to a plug below.

  We sat on one of the bunks. “The room may be bugged,” I whispered in her ear.

  She nodded and sat closer as I whispered about the meeting with Hank, the call from Alkobar, the watch with the transmitter but I didn’t mention the ring. I thought there was no use getting her hopes up for nothing.

  “What I can’t figure out, Kathy, is why they don’t just kill us. That’s what they’ve been trying to do.”

  “I overheard them talking,” she whispered, “They read the copy of the Beta Project you were taking to Congressman Bradford. Alkobar was furious that some of their plans were uncovered and decided on a new approach.

  They are going to demand the government trade us for three prisoners who are being held at Guantanamo.”

  “Are they crazy? The US will never do that.”

  “Todd, the trade is supposed to happen at the open air pops concert at the Mall this Saturday night. When the World’s media finds out, they will blame the U
S Government for being weak and foolish.”

  “Oh, it’s propaganda but they win either way. The US gives in or we disappear. We’ve got to find a way to tell Hank,” I walked to one of the windows.

  Too small to get through but I tried to open it anyway. The sliding pane wouldn’t budge. I could see the marina parking lot maybe thirty yards away. The third car from the right was a maroon Honda Accord. Could it be the same car, I wondered? If we could signal someone in the parking lot, maybe, just maybe we could get help.

  I glanced at the cracked mirror above the sink. Kathy had a quizzical look as I walked over to it and tried to pull it loose.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’ll show you in a second.”

  Both of us heard the key turn in the lock. The door opened and Farod stood holding a tray. “Stand against wall.”

  His lips curled into a sinister grin; his eyes stayed fixed on Kathy’s body as he set the tray on the bunk then stepped back to the doorway.

  Two bowls filled with rice mixed with a little meat and a few vegetables, two spoons, two cups of black tea. I took a bite and grimaced. “This needs salt,” I put my spoon down.

  Briefly Farod’s gaze shifted to me and he laughed, showing his tobacco stained teeth as he shouted in a language I didn’t understand to someone in the other room. They laughed and threw something to him. He tossed the salt shaker onto the bunk. “Bon appetite, Americans.”

  I used it and Kathy saw me slip the shaker in my pocket. When we finished eating Farod told us to stand by the wall again while he picked up the tray and departed locking the door behind him.

  “Why did you do that?” she whispered.

  “Something from high school science. We’ll see if it works.”

  It was getting dark when Kathy and I heard the terrorists talking. I pressed my ear to the wall. I couldn’t make out the words but I thought I heard the sliding glass door. I put my finger to my lips and pointed. We went to the window. By the lights in the parking lot we watched Alkobar and three others make their way to the maroon Honda.