by Terry Keys
“You okay?” Mendez asked.
“I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”
If they killed my friend, I knew it’d take much longer than a minute. This was shaping up to be a terrible night.
“I shot one of them.”
“What? How do you know?” Mendez asked.
“After I made it past the fence, I emptied a clip in their direction. I heard one of them cry out. Not sure if I dropped him, but I know I hit one of them.”
I walked over to where I thought I’d seen Paul lying. I shined the flashlight around. “Here.” In front of me was a pool of blood. A big pool of blood.
“We need to take a sample of this blood. Make sure the techs get this. Paul was here. This is where I saw him. I’m sure of it.”
“Yes, sir,” an officer called back to me.
We finished scanning the area. We saw another trail of blood, which I presumed came from the man I’d shot. I ordered them to sample that as well. Maybe we’d get lucky and get a match.
Twenty minutes later, the warehouse area was crawling with HPD. A handful of FBI agents had made their way over too. I was still sitting in the back of an ambulance getting a once-over. Mullinski was twenty yards away and closing.
When he got close enough, he handed me my cell phone.
“Ran a trace on it. Found it in one of the alleys. Nice case. Doesn’t even look like it’s been dropped.”
“Thanks.”
I had twenty-nine texts and eight new voicemails.
I texted Miranda and Chief Hill to let them know I was okay.
“Sorry about Paul,” Mullinski offered up, his hand extended to shake mine.
“Thank you.”
“You hear anything we can use during all this chaos?” he asked, head cocked.
“Well, they were speaking English. Let me rephrase. Between the broken Middle Eastern dialect of English, some other language was being spoken as well.”
“We’re going to find these guys. We’re going to find Paul.”
I nodded but said nothing.
We’d get Paul back. I was certain of that. But would we get him back alive?
“What’d you find out about the guy Rokan was meeting with?”
“Dead end. Just a client. A real client. Guess the guy had to find a way to fit in. Outside of this shit, I mean.”
“We still have a tracker on Rokan’s car. They’ll sweep it and find it. His apartment—”
“What about it?” Mullinski asked.
“Paul had located it. Was going to be our next stop.”
“Text me the address, and we’ll send some boys right now.”
“Won’t do us any good. If they know we’re on to them, they’ll clean it out. They’ve got a good head start on us now. They won’t risk leaving anything behind.”
“We both know we have to try. You know these guys make mistakes too. This—tonight—none of this was planned. Maybe you guys showing up here derailed a part of their operation.”
“Showing up here tonight did two very bad things. One, it let Rokan know we’re on to him; and two, it may have cost my dear friend Paul his life.”
Chapter 30
I decided, for the first time in my career, to take the ambulance back to the station. I didn’t know why I wanted to, but I did. My mind raced as I tried to ponder what they would do with Paul. Was he even alive when they took him? Maybe my dear friend was already dead, and they took him to toy with me. If so, it was working.
“What’s wrong, sir? Are you in any pain?” one of the EMTs asked me, wiping a tear from my face.
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
When we finally reached the station, I had a whole slew of people waiting for me, including the media. As I stepped out of the ambulance, reporters shoved microphones in my face and yelled question after question.
I shoved my way through and slipped into the station.
“Porter.”
Walking toward me, right on cue, was Chief Hill.
“Let’s get you someplace where we can sit down and talk.”
I nodded and followed him back to his office.
“Close the door and have a seat.”
I pulled a chair up to his desk. I put one hand in the air. “I know we should have called in backup. There was literally no time.”
“I’m not here to bust your balls. Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Listen, we’re going to get Detective Lafitte back.”
I shook my head. “No we’re not. These guys . . . you and I both know they have to make an example out of him. Pass at the chance to spill some American blood? You kidding me? Within twenty-four hours there’ll be a video, and some asshole in a mask will be holding up Paul’s severed head. We both know that. You don’t need to sugarcoat this for me. We know what we signed up for.”
I went through the entire night step by step, sparing no detail.
“Has anyone talked to DeLuca?” I asked.
“We brought her in. Actually, she’s waiting for you in your office.”
“Great. Save the heavy lifting for me. I’m headed down to talk to her. Then I need to get with Fingers and finish what Paul and I started.”
I was not looking forward to facing DeLuca. I’d been in the position she found herself in, having your spouse suddenly yanked away from you. You play things over and over in your head—the last song you danced to together, the last fight you had, the last time you had sex. There’s nothing that can prepare you for this kind of heart-wrenching news, this kind of sudden tragedy.
When I reached my office, I stopped and peeked in through the glass. Elena sat with her face buried in her hands. I reached out to touch the doorknob and took one last, long, deep breath.
Without saying a word, I walked over to her and hugged her tight. She buried her head in my chest and sobbed. I didn’t talk or try to offer any advice. No clichés. No Hallmark moments. The only thing she needed right now was someone there in the moment that Paul was not. I’d be in her shoes when my wife Miranda was taken.
After five minutes or so, I gently sat her down in one of the two chairs at my desk.
“Listen, I want you to take a few days off. Clear you mind and come back when you’re ready.”
“You know I can’t and I won’t do that.”
“I’m not going to force you. Just some friendly advice.”
There was a new file sitting on my desk and she pointed to it. “Beyoncé’s nephew’s killer is in custody. I’m taking Paul’s place on this team. I won’t sit back and play on the sidelines. I’m going to help nail these sons of bitches.”
I admired her passion, but I knew firsthand that losing a spouse made you do crazy shit. I’d done it when Miranda disappeared. No one was immune to it, regardless of their intentions.
“Can you think it over for a few days?”
The look she gave me sent chills down my spine.
“Okay. Maybe not, then.”
“How fast can you bring me up to speed on everything?”
I smiled. Who’s the boss here? I asked myself. I was beginning to wonder.
“I need to get over and see Fingers. I can get you up to speed on the way.”
As we stood up to leave, Khalid and Mullinski knocked on the door.
“First off, I apologize for your loss,” Khalid said, very out of breathe.
“You okay? Looks like you’ve been running,” I said.
“You aren’t going to believe this,” Mullinski said.
“Actually, you may want to sit back down,” Khalid added.
Chapter 31
Hasan didn’t know why, but thinking about Wadjet being with Abu made him angry. They’d decided to use her to destroy their enemies, not for their own sexual enjoyment. But what could he do? He could rise up against Abu and take over. But just as quickly as the foolish thought entered his mind, he let it go. Abu was far too smart to be fooled.
All the men had been ordered to make prepara
tions to move. Hasan began managing that operation, which would be a massive one. Any fool could up and move, but in order to remain hidden from American troops and any local American sympathizers, it took precision. No detail could be overlooked.
The most important aspect would be communication channels. Hasan still had to be able to communicate with his soldiers worldwide without any of that traffic being traced back to them.
The moving trucks began showing up just as scheduled. Nighttime always offered the best cover for an operation of this type. And the cool wind offered some much-needed relief from the scorching-hot sun of the daytime desert.
Almost all of the equipment had been loaded into trucks when Hasan heard his name being called. He turned to find Abu and Wadjet waiting for him.
“Abu, what can I do for you?”
“It is time for our next move. Bring a new phone for recording.”
Hasan was dumbfounded. Abu hadn’t told him about another move. He sent a boy for a new phone. After he received it, he headed for Abu’s room.
When he reached the door, he stood outside of it and knocked.
“Come in, Hasan,” Abu said.
Hasan walked in. Wadjet was sitting on the floor, and Abu’s two daughters were making a mess of her hair.
They’d torn her clothes and applied makeup to her face. It had been smeared.
What the hell is going on? he thought.
“My daughters, go,” Abu ordered. “Are you ready to record, Hasan?”
“What am I recording, Abu?”
“I am going to be with Wadjet. It will appear violent. Wadjet will fight me and put on a good show. I want the world to believe we are treating her badly. I want Rael to see what we are doing to his daughter.”
Hasan finally understood Abu’s plan, and he smiled. Suddenly, the thoughts of jealousy, or whatever he’d felt earlier, had vanished. As usual, Abu was brilliant.
Hasan turned on the phone’s camera and set it to record. He gave Abu a thumbs-up and the theatrics began.
Abu dragged Wadjet around by her hair as she yelled and screamed. He slapped her in the face until blood spewed from her lips. He tore her clothes from her body until her nakedness was fully exposed. Abu touched Wadjet’s body as she flailed hopelessly at him. She spat at him, causing him to strike her again.
Abu pulled down his pants and exposed himself to the camera.
“Rael, old friend, this is for you,” he said, waving his stiffness at the camera.
Hasan made sure not to capture Abu’s face in the footage, only Wadjet’s.
Suddenly Abu gave Hasan the signal to stop the recording.
“Is everything okay, Abu?”
Abu put his clothes back on and told Wadjet to get new clothing from a bin behind her. He was extremely pleased with his work. He hoped that Allah was pleased with him.
“Everything is great, Hasan. Wadjet is a young flower. She is not to be used for pleasures. I simply want Rael and the world to believe Wadjet is being mistreated. I want Rael to lay his head down at night thinking about how I was inside of his little girl. I want him to lie in agony every day for turning his back on his family and his brothers.”
Hasan smiled. “I will get this video out before we move tonight. The world will see it. Do we finally take responsibility for the murders?”
Abu nodded. “Get the video out. And no, we do not let the world know. We continue to make them fight. How much longer do you think it will be before the military powers of a foreign country go to war with America? That country will become our ally. We will burn America to the ground, brick by brick and stone by stone. American women will grovel at our feet, and their men will become our slaves. The day is coming, Hasan. America will fall.”
Chapter 32
I looked intently at both of them. “Okay, so I’m sitting down now. What is it that you have to tell me?”
Khalid took some files from a manila folder and spread them on my desk.
“We have a computer program that checks for all sorts of random things. Well, things that appear random to humans but may indeed not be random,” Khalid said. “It creates what we call links.”
I nodded. “And what did you find? Is there a link that exists?” I asked.
“Well, so far we have two dead men. I started with them, and the computer turned up nothing. The sample size was too small. So I added all of the leaders, and I got two hits—anomalies. You must understand this program goes second, third, and fourth level with data. It can go to the millions.”
“I understand it’s a great program. So what did you find?” I asked again.
“The first hit I checked and it was nothing. However, the second produced another link, then a third and then a fourth that . . . well, how do you say? Could be the fat lady singing.”
DeLuca, finally as frustrated as I was, spoke up. “Khalid, please simply tell us what you’ve uncovered.”
“Yes, of course. The first link—all of the leaders went to the dentist within the last three months. Understand, these types of visits are on a schedule.”
“All of them? All ten?” I asked. “Okay, so?”
“I found it extremely coincidental that all ten would go within a three month period, so I pressed for another link. All ten received a crown, bottom right molar. This took some digging, but I am certain. Here is where it gets good. All ten dentists received offshore payments within two weeks of those visits for ten million dollars each. Do you see where I am going with this?”
“So you think they put some kind of tracking device in those molars? Which means that anywhere we hide them whoever is behind this will find them. Which also means they didn’t have to know travel plans ahead of time. Just follow the tracker,” I said.
“This sounds a little iffy,” DeLuca said.
“My research is clear. No way you can argue with ten-million-dollar deposits in dentists’ accounts,” Khalid said.
“He’s right. It’s the perfect way to track them. No one would suspect it. And if it wasn’t for Khalid here, we still wouldn’t know. This is really good work.”
I thought back to my conversation with Paul a few days earlier. He was wary of Khalid because of his background and his ethnicity. And now, ironically, this piece of intel put us one step closer to finding these maniacs and hopefully saving Paul’s life.
“I say we go arrest these crooked dentists,” Mullinski said.
“I second that. There are ten of them. Someone’s bound to talk,” Khalid added.
“No,” I said. “That’s the last thing we want to do right now. We make those arrests now, and El Printo goes further into hiding, which, due to Rael fleeing, may have already happened. Everyone think back to how long it took us to capture Osama bin Laden. These guys have proven that finding them on their turf is extremely difficult when they know we’re looking for them. Right now I don’t want to make waves there. Let’s see what we can find out electronically first. Before we sound the alarms.”
Chapter 33
I sent Mullinski and Khalid off to follow the money on our dentist friends. DeLuca and I were headed to meet all the leaders and tell them what we knew thus far. I’d also called a dentist friend of mine to join me.
“So, what the hell do you think these guys are going to think when you tell them their dentist put a tracking chip in their mouths?” DeLuca asked.
“I have no earthly idea. I imagine anger, fear, and a lot of uncertainty.”
My cell phone rang loudly in my truck. It was President Wilson.
“Madam President, I was going to give you a call here in the next five minutes to brief you on the latest.”
“I have news for you as well, Detective. I have reason to believe there are men on the inside that I cannot trust. We can’t discuss it now, but you need to understand that. We just received new intel. We’re working to track down the source. It’s an email telling us if we put any of the leaders on a plane, they’ll blow it to hell. And to prove to us how serious they are, coordinat
es of the leaders’ new hiding location were sent as well.”
“Actually, that’s what I was planning to call you about.”
I filled her in on the handy dentist work and how El Printo knew where the men were being held.
“I am headed there now with a dentist friend of mine. As long as I can keep the ruse up, I’m going to let them believe we haven’t moved them for as long as I can.”
“I’m having meetings hourly with these countries’ dignitaries. All hell breaking loose wouldn’t describe the global catastrophe if another of them gets killed. You know that, right?”
I ended the call as I pulled up to the Woodlands mansion where the leaders were being held. I parked and walked over to Dr. Trinidad’s car.
I shook his hand. “I presume you got the tools in here to make the extractions?”
“Good to see you, David. And yes, you’d better believe it.”
Dr. Trinidad had been my dentist since I was about fourteen years old. He was a hardworking and humble dentist who truly cared about people.
After ten minutes of weaving our way through security, we were finally in. I had never visited this house, and it was even nicer in person than the pictures portrayed. It was rumored that Elvis himself had once visited here.
I found the FBI agent in charge and gave him the arduous task of gathering everyone.
The dining room could probably seat thirty. The three of us sat down at the far end of the table and waited. One minute later, the men started entering the room.
Each of them gave us a slightly different look as they entered. For the most part, it was a look of inquisitiveness mixed with a hint of aggravation.
At the end of the table was China’s Li Chi, a man who had made it publicly known that he had doubts about America’s genuineness.
“My name is Detective David Porter. I am a Houston native, former Army Ranger and a PhD recipient in my field. First off, I would like to extend my deepest apologies to each of you. I know the last forty-eight hours have been, to put it mildly, a shit storm. The FBI, CIA, Homeland Security, and HPD have joined forces in an attempt to find out who is behind this and bring them to justice. I have flown to Washington and spoken with the president herself, who shares my sincere apologies to each of you. This is my longtime friend Dr. Phillip Trinidad,” I said, pointing to him. “He has been in dentistry all of his adult life, and, as he nears one hundred, he hasn’t developed a shake.”