by Terry Keys
“Okay. Can you send it to me?”
“Sure thing.”
“Fingers find anything worth looking at?” DeLuca asked when I ended the call.
“We’ll know in one second.”
I clicked on the video and my phone buzzed again.
“Fingers, I’m putting you on speakerphone. You got me and DeLuca here.”
“I don’t think you’ll need me to spot this one, but I figured I’d call all the same.”
The forty-five-second video rolled, and DeLuca and I watched with interest. Five seconds in, a Middle Eastern man walked into the camera’s view. Another man of Middle Eastern descent appeared about fifteen yards away from the first man.
“Did you see that?” DeLuca exclaimed.
I nodded. “Yes, our guy number one dropped something on the ground as he walked by; tried to make it look like an accident. And mystery man number two helped him pick it up, but he kept it after doing so.”
“What the hell did he give him?” DeLuca asked.
“Who knows? But I do know finding out gets us one step closer to catching these guys,” I said.
“Well, I guess I’m hanging up now. Clearly you guys don’t need me,” Fingers said.
“Good work, Fingers. I’d like you to survey that area and get the videos from any other nearby businesses. Maybe we pickup guy A or B in a parking lot? Maybe we can find out what he’s driving?” I said.
“It’ll take some time, but I’m on it.”
“Also, see how good you can clean this up, and let’s see if we can get a name on either of these guys.”
Chapter 12
The hot windy air blew a cloud of dust across Hasan’s body. He closed his eyes and put a gentle hand over his face. He pointed to one of his men.
“Have you found Rael?”
“No, sir, we have not.”
“And you’ve looked everywhere? You are certain?”
The man nodded.
Abu walked in and the group gathered around him.
“We will make Rael wish he had never betrayed us. There can be no mercy shown. We are at war with America! You must not be distracted, men. We will go to Rael’s house and start with his mother, daughter, and wife. We will take everything from them before we kill them. I want their heads in a basket before the sun goes down on this day. It will be broadcast on the web. Rael must see what he has done. We set out in one half hour.”
A loud roar erupted from the group. The selected men went to their rooms and gathered their supplies.
Abu left the men and headed to his room.
A few seconds later Hasan knocked on Abu’s door.
“Enter,” Abu called.
When Hasan entered, he was shocked to see three of Abu’s kids there with him. They must have entered from the back of the compound and through Abu’s secret door, probably so any surveillance cameras that the Americans had wouldn’t pick them up.
“You seem surprised to see my sons and daughter.”
“A little, sir. I would not like to see them harmed,” Hasan said, pointing above in reference to possible drone strikes.
“Don’t be. They too need to learn the dangers of the Americans. Americans are no good and a pathetic people. They are a greedy nation full of liars and thieves. Saddam Hussein helped America during the seventies. Our brother Osama bin Laden helped America fight Russia during their cold war. Do these cowardly Americans repay our fallen brothers? No! Both are dead. America uses everyone until they no longer need them and leave countries in chaos and ruin. They destroy our families with their drone strikes. They complain about our weaponry and our military tactics. Do they forget how we came to have those weapons? They argue our bombs kill women and children, yet they do the same. Do you understand the level of hypocrisy that America displays?”
Hasan nodded but said nothing.
“After we have dealt with Rael’s family, we need to discuss our recruiting plan again. I want it ramped up by fifty percent. With Rael gone, I will need to find a new captain for that detail. And I would like to lower our target age to six. The longer we teach and train them, the more help they can be to the cause. We must protect our families, Hasan!”
Hasan scowled and his heartbeat rose. He left Abu feeling empowered and emboldened. The fire of his hatred burned stronger than ever.
Hasan walked outside. A truck approached and he climbed in. The vehicle headed for the village where Rael’s family lived. Having daughters of his own, Hasan had felt badly about being ordered to behead Rael’s mother and wife and kidnap his daughter. But now he no longer felt that way. Abu had reminded him of what animals the Americans were. Hasan remembered back to his own father and how he’d lost both of his legs in a U.S. drone strike. His dad had been a good, God-fearing man who’d never spoken in a harsh way to anyone. He thought about the countless friends he’d lost at the hands of the Americans, many of whom had been innocent bystanders and not involved in America’s so-called War on Terror. It angered him that the Americans wanted people like his dad to stand up and fight, despite the fact that they had no weapons. What would they use to defend themselves? Stones?
Hasan hated the fact that America had actually come up with a name to legitimize their hunting down of his family and friends. He too had once been what the Americans would consider a good Muslim. But he’d decided he could no longer sit back and watch his country be destroyed by the enemy. Becoming a soldier in Abu’s army gave him a purpose. He thought back to the American news programs he watched that demonized men like him. Men who killed women and children, just like the American men did. And quite frankly he was tired of America’s selective meddling in Middle Eastern affairs.
“Men, take no prisoners but the daughter,” Hasan boomed. “Only she lives. Everyone else—all traitors—must die!”
The men yelled in celebration. One of the men took out his camcorder and flipped it on. A boy no older than five wandered out of the front door of Rael’s house. The man holding the camcorder zoomed in on the boy.
Hasan had identified the boy as one of Rael’s sons. He raised his AK-47 and fired three quick rounds. The boy’s limp, bloodied body flew back and crashed to the ground. The men stormed the house. Inside, two boys played quietly on the floor. Hasan spied an elderly woman on the couch nearby. The two eyed each other. Horror filled her face.
She screamed. “Why are you here?”
“You must atone for the sins of Rael!” Hasan shouted.
A barrage of gunfire rang out. Some aimed at the boys, while Hasan and others fired at the grandmother.
“Praise Allah!” one of the men yelled.
Hasan listened as panicked villagers ran screaming in the streets. He hoped the fear of what was happening to one of their own would keep someone else from being as stupid as Rael had been.
“Find the wife and daughter and bring them to me,” Hasan ordered.
“Sir, Abu only asked that we bring back the daughter alive,” one of the men said.
Hasan pointed to a family photo on the wall. “Look at that. I said look at it!” He raised his voice. “She is a beautiful woman. We will have much fun with her. Abu will be pleased with my decision. Now go and bring her to me.”
The men scurried to the other rooms in the house. Hasan took out his cell phone and snapped a dozen pictures of the bloodbath. He sent the best ones to Abu.
Deafening screams could be heard from deep within the house. Hasan raised his weapon and started in their direction.
Finally, five feet ahead of him, he saw her and Rael’s daughter. “How old is she?” Hasan called out to the mother, nudging her with the end of his gun.
She spat on his shoes. “You should be ashamed of yourselves!”
Hasan knelt down beside her. “You are incredibly beautiful but also very stupid.” He slapped her hard. She fell over onto the floor.
Hasan sat her back up. “I ask you again, how old is your daughter?”
The woman’s head jolted backward in an effort to spit
in Hasan’s face. But before she could, he forced her onto her stomach. The woman kicked and screamed but it was no use.
“I am fifteen, please don’t hurt her,” the girl yelled.
Hasan smiled. “You with your long dark hair are very beautiful indeed. And you are of age, I will have fun with you later. Your mother I have fun with now.”
Hasan turned to the soldier with the camcorder as he unfastened his pants. “Make sure you are recording this. I want Rael to play it over and over again while he burns in hell.”
Hasan shot his hands up the woman’s dress, tore her panties to the side, and forced his way into her. The other men in the room laughed and encouraged the behavior.
“Your Rael did this to you! He knew what would happen!”
Tears poured down the woman’s face. Her daughter sat and watched, frozen by the horror of it all.
After Hasan finished, he raised up and stared into the camera. “Rael, she wasn’t even that good. I hope your daughter is better for me.” Then he pulled a handgun from his waistband and fired two rounds into the woman’s head.
Chapter 13
Hasan and his men were in route back to their camp. He flicked his fingers down his phone, reviewing the pictures and videos he’d taken.
He was angry at his friend Rael. How could he betray him after so many years? Hasan knew Rael’s phone would be off by now and probably disabled. They had already been tracking it and had turned up nothing. But maybe there was a small chance that it wasn’t.
As the caravan pulled up to the camp, Hasan typed a message to Rael and sent it, along with a picture of the man’s dead sons: “Come back and face your death like a man or your daughter will be next.” Hasan knew Rael would see the video footage that was about to be uploaded online, but he wanted to send a personal message as well. Maybe it would have more of an effect . . . at least he hoped it would.
The vehicle stopped and they all climbed out. Hasan grabbed the young prisoner himself. He wanted to be sure he presented the prize to Abu personally. Grabbing the girl by the feet, he dragged her across the hot desert ground. The girl yelled and tried to yank away from Hasan, who just laughed at her. “This is the fault of your father,” he called out to her.
Hasan opened the doors to the compound and looked around for Abu. The giant fans blew loud and hard, making hearing a challenge. Hasan thought he heard his name being called. He whirled around, trying to zero in on the voice in the crowded room.
“Hasan!” He could finally see Abu towering over the men.
“Abu.” Hasan pointed to the girl.
“So this is the daughter? You have done well. She will be extremely valuable to us.” Abu looked down at the crying girl who, despite her circumstances, still had a very determined look in her eyes.
“Do you know why you are here, girl?” Abu asked, kneeling beside her.
She turned away from him and said nothing.
“Your father betrayed you for America. He knows the fate of a traitor, yet he still chose America over you. But things will be different for you. You will not be harmed.” Abu wiped a tear from her face, and then he stood up to address his men.
“Everyone gather around. This girl is not to be harmed. And from this day we will call her Wadjet. She will be treated like my own children. She will eat with them and lay with them at night too.”
There was a sudden silence that fell over the room. A different type of silence than normal. No one dared to speak while Abu was speaking, but this was different.
“Hasan, have her bathed and put into fine clothing. Assign a man to do it then come to me.”
Hasan gave direction to his Captain Ahmet and then went to Abu’s office.
“Wadjet is being tended to, sir.”
“Close the door and have a seat, Hasan. Do you know why I have chosen not to harm the girl?”
“No, sir. I thought we were going to punish her for the sins of Rael?”
“We have been presented with an opportunity that we must use.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I do not understand. We need to teach Rael and all traitors a lesson.”
“What did you do to Hasan’s sons? What about his mother and wife?”
“They are all dead, sir.”
“Ahh . . . dead. Any of you take pleasure with the wife before she was killed?”
“Yes, sir. All of this is true.”
“When Rael learns of these things, will he not be in great pain? Will he not feel like all of these things were his fault?”
Hasan nodded. “But what will we do with the daughter? She is no better than the traitor father.”
Abu patted Hasan on the back. “You still have many things to learn, Hasan. Wadjet has the appearance of a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old girl. She is quite beautiful. We will teach her the things the Americans do to us. We will make her believe her father was evil. She will come to believe her father left their family for another in America. A white woman and a white family. We will make Wadjet hate her father and America. We will train her in the ways of intel gathering and high-level espionage. She will be trained with the best we have in weaponry. We will make a soldier of her, Hasan.”
Hasan smiled as he began to understand Abu’s altered plan. “But how will we use her? Where? How can this help us, Abu?”
“Everyone will ask the same question. Each man in time. No one outside of you and me will know the plan. No one. The only action I need from them is to teach Wadjet.”
Hasan again nodded, a frown still crossing his face.
“We will make videos showing how we have mistreated Wadjet. They will be broadcast for the world to see. America will think she is our prisoner, as will the world. After she is fully trained and ready, we will release her. She will flee—with our help and guidance, of course—and make her way to America. America will welcome her in and take care of her. She will give them intel about us—fake intel, no doubt. She will describe her captors and our operation. She will become the poster child for their War on Terror platform. They will flaunt her in the streets. She will be on every American TV show, talking about her captivity and how she survived and escaped.”
And then finally the light went off in Hasan’s head.
“No American will suspect a young, pretty, former captive who watched her mother get raped and killed would be a double agent working for us.”
“No, Hasan, they will not. She will be introduced to the president of the United States. She will apologize to Wadjet for her family’s loss. She will take pictures with her. It will be a huge spectacle. Hopefully, her father will be by her side. They will all wave and smile and condemn our actions.”
Hasan was smiling. The plan was more than perfect. A gift from Allah himself had fallen into their hands.
“Why did you change the girl’s name to Wadjet, Abu?”
“Wadjet was an Egyptian goddess of war and was thought to be a protector of her people. When Wadjet is gathered with her father and the American president, she will kill them all.”
Chapter 14
Chief Hill came through with the autopsy report, but to my dismay it was inconclusive. The closest they’d come was a heart attack. How could that be? Japan’s prime minister was dead, and the only thing we would be able to tell the world was that we don’t know how he died on our watch.
I took out my phone.
“Chief, the FBI already reviewed this autopsy?”
“Yes. I pulled a lot of strings to get my hands on it.”
“Well, it’s inconclusive. We can’t trot that out to the world; you know that. We need more.”
“It’s not ideal, no. But—”
“No buts. It can’t be presented this way. It’ll make us look that much guiltier. We don’t know how he died. Sorry we don’t have more to tell you. Oh, and it wasn’t us, but we don’t know who did it either.”
“You have a better idea?” he asked.
“I need to see that body.”
“Okay. I can arrange that.”
> I hadn’t expected to be told yes so easily.
“Did you say you can arrange that? A minute ago you told me you had to pull strings just to get me the autopsy report. Something you need to tell me?”
There was a pause. “The FBI has asked for your help. I just got off the phone with them. There was a homicide in Hiram Clarke last night that I need one of your guys on too.”
“I need my guys with me. I’m sure this Yoshida case is a lot more important, no?”
“It is, no doubt, but I want one of your guys on this. Sean Carter’s nephew was murdered last night. Which means it’ll get national coverage as well.”
“Sean Carter? You mean Jay-Z? Houston’s own Beyoncé’s Jay-Z?” In other words, major campaign donors.
“Yes, Detective, that’s exactly what I mean. Assign either Paul or Elena to the case. I’ve already promised to put my best guys on it.”
I smiled. “Okay. Where are we with my new guys, since you’re thinning my team?”
There was another five-second delay. “Well, to be honest, we’ve had a very exciting couple of days, wouldn’t you say? They are a work in progress. We’ve been working on some other extremely high priorities.”
I grinded my teeth, took a deep breathe, and told myself to be calm here. “Ms. Elena DeLuca can work the Jay-Z case. She’s going to be madder than hell. You know that, right?”
“I have faith in you, David.”
“I’m starting to regret this call. Any more bad news you need to share?”
“Well, now that you ask, there’s one more small bit of bad info.”
“I was joking. What else could you possibly have for me?”
Hill cleared his throat. “FBI wants you to work with Mullinski and another analyst by the name of Khalid Muhami.”
Hill was right. More bad news. How the hell did Mullinski pull this detail? After our first head-butt—aka my interrogation after being wrongly arrested for an old friend’s murder—I didn’t want to play nice with this guy.
“Porter, you there?”