Death Toll Rising

by Terry Keys

  She eyed me from across the table. “10-4, sir.”

  Mullinski muted his phone and turned to me. “I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “For what it’s worth, I hope I know what the hell I’m doing too.”

  Khalid nudged my leg. “So what’s your big plan?” he whispered.

  “I’ll let you know when I know,” I whispered back.

  Khalid looked dumbfounded, but I was keeping a tight lid on who would know where the dignitaries were being taken. An extremely tight lid.

  “Paul, get with Fingers. Find the Awad video, if one exists, so we can start breaking it down. Find out everything you can about the location from today to a week back. Pay close attention to anyone you might recognize,” I added, catching his eye. I’d bet we’d find our buddy Rokan had paid a visit there too.

  “If it just happened today, why would you look back a week?” Khalid asked.

  “Maybe Mullinski should’ve been asking you who you slept with to get on this case.”

  It was a rude comment, I knew, but I’d gotten frustrated with him questioning everything that came out of my mouth. Maybe the kid was just trying to learn, but it came across as arrogant and know-it-all-ish.

  “Mullinski, take Khalid here and find out everything you can about the remaining dignitaries. This is a fly-by-night detail that can’t get screwed up anymore. Do any of them have food allergies? Do any of them have special medical conditions? We need to know everything. We can’t afford to miss any details. Do any of them have ties we should have known about but might have missed? Everyone is a suspect.”

  I wanted to get back to my office and dig more into Rokan. I was certain he was more than heavily involved, and finding him would get us closer to ending this.

  Chief Hill tapped me on the shoulder and gestured for me to give him my ear. “Doing a great job. Run with it. Just don’t leave me in the dark on this one.”

  I nodded.

  Mullinski had just reached the door when he turned back to me. “Holy shit!”

  “What is it now?” I asked.

  “I just got a text. The FBI has a man in custody who says he escaped from the very camp that’s responsible for these murders. Says he can prove it, and he can tell us where they are. Flew into Washington DC today. That’s where they got him held.”

  Chief turned to Mullinski. “Call Director Burke back. Tell him I’m putting Porter on a plane now. He’ll be there to interrogate him in four hours.”

  The chief followed me to my office to get the details on where we were going to hide the world leaders and exactly who I wanted on the need-to-know list.

  “So, Porter, tell me about this plan of yours.”

  I sat down at my desk and told him my plan.

  Hill frowned for a second. “That is actually a good idea. Last place anyone will look. Might be a step down from their usual dwelling places.”

  “Well, they either want comfort, or they want to be alive. Can’t have it both ways.”

  Chapter 18

  I always kept an emergency travel bag in my truck just for times like this. There was no time to go home and pack or to say goodbye to my beautiful wife. I stared out into the clouds as the big bird soared through the air at a few hundred miles an hour. A small boy no older than ten was seated next to me. I flashed back to my childhood and my youthful fear of flying. I’d even gone so far as to tell my parents that I’d never fly. And now I had more frequent flyer miles than I had use for.

  I’d been to Washington DC several times, but this was the first time I was going to question a possible witness. My good friend and one of my trusted mentors, Alex Cross, lived in DC. A get-together was unlikely this trip. I’d sent a text to Paul and Fingers. I wanted a rundown on every drug that caused symptoms ME’s commonly mistook for heart attacks or asphyxiation. This started to become a possibility to me the more I thought about the way witnesses had described Awad’s death.

  My phone beeped, letting me know I had a new incoming email. I accessed it from my iPad. It was information on the subject who I was heading to DC to interrogate.

  His name was Rael Akami. Thirty-nine years old. Born and raised in Pakistan. No job listed, which meant he probably picked up handyman jobs here and there. Married and the father of three.

  The next thing I saw made my eyes bulge. He’d traveled to the U.S. once before, three years ago. He was detained and asked about his business in the U.S. He’d listed the name of the person he was here to visit. It was none other than Rokan Sheth.

  It had been about three years ago when the congresswoman, now President Jackie Wilson, started pitching her idea about this religious summit. She had been in direct conversation with several countries about the possibility and the agenda. The Republican Party denounced the idea, but Wilson swore if she was elected it would be first on her to-do list. And due to the growing number of terror attacks around the world, the idea of peace sounded good to a lot of people.

  Intel from the terror attacks on the Twin Towers on 9/11 had been clear. Osama bin Laden and his team had been planning the attack for well over a decade. The plan had been carried out almost to perfection. The attack was a huge boost to Jihadi recruiting efforts worldwide. There seemed to be no shortage of young, angry men who wanted to murder Americans.

  If what I was piecing together now was correct, Rokan and whoever he was working for had been planning this for at least three years. It would explain the precision at which the first two murders had been carried out and why Rokan’s travel had suddenly stopped. He didn’t want to foil the plan by continuing to make trips to the U.S., so he stayed under the radar, became a ghost. Until now.

  The bigger question I had now was how in the hell had Rael escaped? And why had his allegiance suddenly shifted? Where was his family? If he’d left them behind, they would be murdered immediately as a warning to the remaining soldiers. Why would he be sacrificing their lives? If he’d managed to get them to safety, where were they hiding?

  The plane landed, and as I walked through the terminal, I heard a voice calling my name. I looked around to find its source.

  “Special Agent Maxwell,” the man said, extending his hand. “You are Detective David Porter, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Welcome to DC.”

  “Too bad this isn’t a social visit. How far from the station are we?” I asked.

  “About fifteen minutes.”

  I followed Maxwell to his waiting cruiser, anxious as I’d ever been to get to an interrogation. In all my years of service, I had never questioned a former Islamic militant who’d decided to change allegiances.

  The FBI had informed me that one of their guys would be interrogating Akami. I hoped there was some way that I could weasel my way in and ask a few questions anyway.

  As we pulled up to the station and got out, I received a text from Fingers with a ton of information on our captive. We moved at a brisk pace to the interrogation room, and I scrolled through the notes as quickly as my eyes could read. Up ahead, I saw a group of men approaching us.

  “Detective Porter, my name is Captain Park.”

  We shook hands, and he led me into our side of the interrogation room. Park already had his guy in place; the agent wasted no time.

  “My name is Special Agent Stagg. Before we get started, would you like anything to drink? Water? Coffee?”

  The man looked nervous. He shook his head but didn’t speak. He was very small in stature. If I had to guess, no more than five foot five. His hair was matted, and his deep, brown eyes looked sad, heavy and full of burden.

  Stagg was a large man. If I were guessing, at least six foot six and two hundred fifty pounds. If he were being cast for a movie, they’d have to get The Rock to play him. It was an obvious attempt to strike some fear into Rael from the start.

  Stagg reached out and turned the recording device on. He pointed at it. “We’re going to have that on. That okay?”

  Again Rael nodded.
/>   “Please state your name for the record,” Stagg said.

  “Rael Akami.”

  “In the interest of time, I’m going to get right to it. First off, why are you doing this? Why should we believe a word you say? You have loved ones you left behind? What kind of man does that, ups and leaves a wife and kids? My gut tells me your appearance here isn’t genuine.”

  Rael smashed the table with his fists. “I am here because it is the right thing. My father is turning over in his grave at the things I have done. I have been an evil man. I have dishonored my name. I am here because I want my family brought to safety.”

  Stagg peered at Rael, trying to decide if he believed him. I had been skeptical myself, but my gut told me this man had been torn for a long time, and he’d finally reached a breaking point within himself.

  “Okay, then start by telling us what you know about these murders,” Stagg said.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know everything but rather only a little. But I promise to tell you everything that I can.”

  Stagg frowned. “We are all here because you said you had information. What exactly do you know? America doesn’t want another foreign leader dying on our watch.”

  “I can give you a few names. I can tell you how we started and what our goals were. I can even tell you where our operation was set up. But I can assure you that after I fled the group, they surely moved. Will you help me find my family, Mr. Stagg?”

  “Yes, we will. Now continue. Tell us what you know.”

  “I was raised in a Christian home in Pakistan. My parents taught me to love everyone—even Americans. As I got older, I began to question the things my father taught me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Rael moved nervously in his seat. “Mr. Stagg, have you ever served in your military?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did.”

  “Did you spend any time in the Middle East?”

  “I’m asking the questions here. But . . . no. I had a few tours to other places but never the Middle East.”

  “Let me tell you . . . when your soldiers come in, we are all enemies to them. Have you ever seen a drone strike? They kill bad men, but they kill good men too. Your soldiers make no difference between the two. Why then would a Pakistani man care about killing an innocent American? Are your American lives more valuable? It is not hard for evil men to recruit boys to fight you. You come in and kill our men and women.”

  “We need names. We need targets. We need to know how these men are being killed.”

  “I can give you names. I do not know the order of the targets. I can’t even tell you how they are being killed. That kind of information was only given to certain soldiers.”

  Stagg stared Rael down. I could tell he wasn’t buying his story of only knowing bits and pieces. After a second of contemplating, it made perfect sense to me though.

  Stagg picked up his pen and pad. “So tell us what you know, and we’ll talk about the other stuff later.”

  “The leader’s name I do not know it. But—”

  “You said you had names,” Stagg demanded, as he was quickly becoming more frustrated.

  “I know some names, yes. I can tell you many things about him—the leader. They called him El Printo or the Prince. He is a Saudi national, very rich. Lots of money to throw around.”

  “What else can you tell us about El Printo?”

  “He is very tall, over six feet easily. And he has several children who sometimes came to the camp.”

  “What else can you tell us about him? Anything stand out about him? He talk with a lisp? Any scars? Tattoos?”

  “Nothing that I can think of, no. I am sorry.”

  “Rael, you’re in a lot of trouble here. Any help that you can give me . . . .”

  “I am in trouble why? I fled my country, left my wife and children behind to help you. I came here to give you information to help you catch these evil men, and you talk about trouble. This is exactly why so many do not like you around the world.”

  I watched as Rael stood up. “I am done here. I am finished with this man!” Rael yelled into the two-way mirror.

  Stagg rose and slammed his fists into the table. “No, you are not done with me. You’re done when I say you are.” He grabbed Rael and slammed him down into the chair.

  Both fear and anger flooded Rael’s eyes. The helpful traitor had turned into the radical terrorist in front of everyone’s eyes. I’d already been told this was an observation-only mission for me, but I had to do something. Rael was way too valuable a witness to just let him get away.

  Chapter 19

  My begging, pleading, and negotiation skills had paid off. Stagg was out and I was in. I didn’t even care about the so-called short leash I’d been given.

  Stagg and I stood a few feet from each other, and I could feel the heat radiating from his eyes.

  “Like I said, I’m not here to get in anyone’s way, but I don’t want to sit back and watch a nuclear war destroy us all either.”

  “Go to hell!” Stagg yelled.

  I knew it was risky but I didn’t care; I placed a hand on Stagg’s shoulder. “Listen, big fella, if we don’t solve this case in a few days, we’ll all be in hell.”

  I turned the doorknob to enter the interrogation room, and Captain Park called out to me. “Short leash, Porter.”

  I nodded and winked. But once that door closed, Rael was my witness.

  As I walked into the room, I held up my badge for Rael to see. “Detective David Porter, HPD. I’m sorry about . . .” I pointed over my shoulder. “I believe we all want the same thing here. I mean, that’s why you came to America to begin with. We have no proof that you’ve committed any crimes, so in my mind you aren’t in any kind of trouble here.”

  Rael was still standing, eyeing me. Probably trying to decide if I was genuine or blowing smoke up his tail. I gestured for him to take a seat. “Please.”

  Slowly, Rael pulled out the chair and sat down, arms folded across his chest. Which meant I still had a bit of a wall to knock down.

  “I will sit, but I’m not talking to any of you Americans. You can leave. You are wasting everyone’s time.”

  “I understand that you’re angry. I would be too. You sacrificed a lot coming here.”

  “No, I sacrificed everything coming here.”

  I nodded. “You mentioned a wife and kids. How many daughters do you have? I have two. They can be quite the challenge at times.”

  “I have one daughter and the rest sons. Can I have some water, please?”

  I waved for someone to bring him water.

  “Family is very important. I love spending time with mine. Were you able to get your family to safety before you fled?”

  I wanted to reel him back into a pool of safety and open conversation.

  Tears formed in the corners of his eyes. “No, I was not. If they find them, they are dead.”

  “We aren’t going to let that happen. You are going to tell me what you know about these guys, and we are going to catch them and end this. Do you hear me?”

  Rael nodded.

  “Now, in addition to the questions that have already been asked, I have a few more. Is that okay?”

  Rael nodded again.

  “Let’s start with something easy. What were you guys calling yourselves?”

  “El Printo named our movement Allah Maharib.”

  “God’s . . .? Help me out here,” I said.

  “Warriors. God’s Warriors.”

  “Thank you. You began describing El Printo. There has to be something that would stand out. A face mole? A scar? Did he walk with a limp?”

  “He has a two-inch scar on his face. I can’t be certain which side.”

  “Good job, Rael. This is really good. What can you tell me about any of the other players?”

  “I do have a name for his second man. We called him Hasan. About my height. He is from Iran.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell me about Hasan? Do you
have a last name? He have any family?”

  Rael went quiet.

  “Anything, Rael?”

  “There is nothing I can think of.”

  “Okay, we can come back to that. How did you communicate? Do you know any phone numbers? I assume you gave your cell phone to command upon arrival?”

  There was a strange look in his eyes.

  “No, I do not know any of the numbers. We communicated by phone. I searched for my phone, but I cannot find it.”

  His eyes welled up and more tears began forming. “What’s wrong, Rael?”

  “My phone was the only way to communicate with my family.”

  “I’m sorry, Rael. You have been a huge help to us. We’ll find your family.”

  “Thank you. But you will not find them. Hasan is ruthless. They have been hunted and killed, I am certain. I have hope that this is not true, but my mind tells me it is so.”

  “I only have a few more questions. Outside of the names you gave me, this is equally as important. I need to know where the camp was set up, even if they may have fled. It will help us tremendously.”

  “The camp was in the mountains a few miles from the Afghan-Iranian border. There is no city named for this location.”

  “If I had a map could you point it out to me?”

  Rael nodded.

  About thirty seconds later, the door burst open and Stagg rolled out a map of the Middle East in front of us. “There. Show us,” Stagg said, jabbing his finger at the map.

  “Thank you.” I stood and stepped between Stagg and a seated Rael.

  “I will get back to my witness now.”

  Stagg eyed me. The two of us stood staring at each other face-to-face.

  I heard Park’s voice over the intercom. “Stagg, let’s let Porter finish the interview, please.”

  “Down boy,” I mouthed.

  Rael reached out and drew a line on the map with his finger. I tossed a red pen over to him. “Circle it.”

  Rael circled the area and then put the pen back on the table.