Into The Shadows

by Michael Brady

  “I’ll need to run this by Commander Hunter in the morning. I suspect we will have to figure out how to support the request before someone tasks us. CIA usually gets what it wants.”

  “Does CIA call us often?” asked Olivia.

  “I have been here four years now and only aware of one time. They called about a drug shipment from Brazil last year and wanted to know the names of the crew. Apparently, one of the individual’s names we captured went missing from the initial report. They simply wanted to fill in the gap.”

  “So, this is probably important then?”

  “I imagine so. However, we only have three drones and many requirements. Commander Hunter and the CO will have to speak with J2 to figure it out. Some of our customers may be upset, but it is CIA after all. I will set up the meeting.”

  Lieutenant Commander Lance Fuller and Olivia Bell resumed their night duties. Both imagined why CIA made the rare request.

  The Black River, Eastern Caribbean Sea - November 12, 8:00 AM

  “Dayo, have you found a new location?”

  “Yes. The Grand Hotel in Port Royal. There is a Marina there and has everything you will need to finish the journey.”

  Dayo’s choice was fitting. Port Royal, a picturesque town steeped in pirate folklore used to be known as “the wickedest and most sinful city in the world.” Founded in 1518, the city was ideally located to interdict Spanish shipping lanes all the way to Panama. Infamous buccaneers ranging from Captain Henry Morgan to Captain John Davis staged their attacks from Port Royal. Booty from successful raids and assaults on Spanish settlements were spent on women and alcohol. Today, Port Royal is a thriving community ripe with tourism and eager archaeologists.

  “Will customs be an issue?” asked Foday.

  “No. I do not think so. If you refuel quickly, it probably will not come up. I will have the provisions you require and load them while you wait.”

  “Have you had the opportunity to observe their security?”

  “Yes. It appears minimal, but I have only been here one day. I will continue to assess them.”

  Foday hung up and joined Manjo in the galley. It was time to prepare the young jihadist for his mission in New York City.

  “Manjo, when the time comes I will purchase several tickets for you to ride the metro train in New York. On the first day, you will take the N metro line from Brooklyn all the way to Queens. I want you to make four stops. You will stop at Atlantic Avenue/Barclays Center/4 Avenue. Your second stop will be Canal Street, and your third will be Times Square/42nd Street station. This location will have many police officers, but I want you to find several stalls that might be useful for a bomb. I want you to find the bathroom closest to the center of Times Square. If there is no suitable bathroom, make a mental note. You will get back on the train and make your last stop at the Queensboro Plaza. Look for large gatherings of people in coffee shops and restaurants. Once again, you will return to the train and finish up in Queens. You will simply ride back to Brooklyn and meet me in Coney Island. I want you to study the map in front of you. Each station has a circle. Memorize them. We will look at the second day later.”

  “How can I remember everything, Foday?”

  “You will have to do your best, Manjo. You cannot risk being seen taking notes or looking suspicious. If you do, the police will question you which could jeopardize the mission.”

  “I will do my best, Foday.”

  “I know Manjo, I know you will. I will be back in a few hours to test you. Study well.”

  Foday returned to the deck. The cool winds from the Caribbean Ocean swayed the Black River. He turned to Fallubah.

  “We have a new port. Plot a course for Port Royal, Jamaica. The Grand Hotel there has a Marina where Dayo will meet us.”

  “Okay, Foday, but we have a possible storm approaching from the Gulf of Mexico. We may be delayed depending on the conditions.”

  “How long if the seas remain calm?”

  “Thirty-two hours, Foday.”

  With a new course plotted and entered into the ship’s navigation system, the Black River set its sights on Port Royal. Ebola was making its way to the United States.

  Trident Hotel, Port Antonio, Jamaica – November 12, 8:30 AM

  Michael sat alone at Lucky’s outdoor restaurant, a casual spot along the beach. He prepared for his day while eating his usual breakfast entailing fried eggs, bacon, and toast. Freshly chilled orange juice and local coffee added to the delicious meal. Today’s task was to search for nearby marinas. Michael anticipated Dayo would likely remain on the island, but find a nearby port within a few hours’ drive. His sudden departure would require reconnaissance and Dayo had few opportunities to travel the long distance to Jamaica’s west coast on such short notice.

  “Good morning, man. Are you Mr. Brennan?”

  “Yes, may I help you?”

  “Doug sent me. May I sit down?”

  “Doug who?”

  “Your friend from Virginia.”

  “Please, sit down.”

  “My name is Ashani Brown. A pleasure to meet you.”

  Ashani looked the part. A native of Jamaica, he wore flip-flops, baggy tan shorts, and a bright yellow t-shirt. His dreadlocks reached past his shoulders, and his accent left little doubt he was a local.

  “Hello, Ashani. So, Doug sent you?”

  “Yes, man. I have known Doug for a long time. We go back almost thirty years. I provide information from time to time.”

  “You are with the company?”

  “Oh no, man. Just a contractor.”

  “What did Doug ask you to do?”

  “To take you around the island. I believe you’re looking for a yacht?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you can forget about the maps you are looking at. There are only a few marinas on Jamaica capable of housing a yacht. How big is it?”

  “No idea. Probably forty feet at least.”

  “Then let’s go. Would you like to head east or south?”

  “What do you suggest?” asked Michael.

  “South. There are two marinas near Kingston. And I have friends at both.”

  An hour into their drive, Michael and Ashani entered the Blue Mountain State Park. The park is home to the Blue Mountains, one of the largest mountain ranges in the Caribbean. Crowded with wildlife and mysterious foliage, the mountains give off a bluish color due to constant mist along its trails.

  Ashani’s cell phone rang.

  “Hello, man. You have something for me?”

  “Maybe. A man was at the Grand Hotel Marina this morning asking questions about fuel. I’ve never seen him before, and he sounded African.”

  “Did he give his name?”

  “No. But he asked some unusual questions.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how quickly he could refuel a ship. He also asked questions about the marina’s security. He seemed a bit anxious to me, Ashani.”

  “It could be who I’m looking for. Thank you, man. Are you there now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I will see you in about two hours.”

  Ashani turned to Michael.

  “We may already have something, Michael.”

  “What did you find out?”

  “An African was at the marina in Port Royal. He asked some strange questions.”

  “That sounds like a good lead to me, Ashani.”

  Michael gazed into the thick treeline along highway B1. Who needs the NSA and satellites, he thought to himself. As usual, good old-fashioned human intelligence collection did the trick.

  Michael and Ashani arrived at the Port Royal Grand Hotel approximately two hours later. Michael marveled at its pristine location along the shoreline. They quickly made their way to the marina.

  “Hello, man. Good to see you.”<
br />
  “You too, Ashani. Who is your friend?”

  “This is Mr. Brennan. He is my guest for the next few days.”

  The young man speculated who Michael was but never asked. He was an acquaintance of Ashani and that was enough. Ashani was a trusted friend and paid well for information.

  “You say this man is African?” asked Ashani.

  “Yes. I have met many Africans here at the marina. I am certain of it.”

  “Did he say when he would be back?”

  “Today. He said sometime after lunch.”

  “Sounds like we have time to eat, Michael,” said Ashani.

  Michael and Ashani sat at the Red Jack restaurant with a superb vantage point of the marina. Both men were enjoying some local burgers and fries. Ashani proved to be an interesting man and shared his talents during the meal.

  “I’ve lived here all my life, Michael. I know the names of the harbormasters and their families.”

  “What kind of work have you done for Doug?”

  “Information. Doug and I met in Kingston when your country began its war on drugs in 1986. I became a source for him and mostly focused on street gangs and shipments of drugs into the ports and marinas. I remained his source after he left. He still calls from time to time, but not as much lately. Is your focus now on the Middle East?”

  “Yes, the Middle East. It’s very complicated there now.”

  “Have you spent much time there?”

  “No, I don’t travel much.”

  Ashani might have worked with Doug in the past, but Michael was not about to give the stranger more information.

  “What do you do for Doug?” asked Ashani, now curious.

  “I provide information, like you,” said Michael with a smile.

  Michael noticed a man walking nearby.

  “Is that someone walking toward your friend?”

  “I believe so,” said Ashani.

  “This could be our man. Please confirm with your friend after he leaves. I’ll follow him to see where he goes and return to pick you up,” said Michael.

  Dayo approached the marina’s office as his eyes scanned the surrounding area. Ashani stood up from his chair and made his way toward the small strcuture. Michael, convinced of Dayo’s unease, flipped open his wallet, placed cash on the table, and waited.

  Michael studied Dayo’s every move as he neared the entrance. He noticed the position of his shoulders as his arms swung forward, and the length of his steps. The man was walking faster than the average person would.

  Ashani finally arrived at the front door of the office. Michael hoped he would not spook the young African. He noticed Dayo exiting the office while Ashani smiled at him and wished him a good day. Dayo did not return the pleasantry. Moments later, Ashani exited the office and gave Michael a thumbs-up. Michael quickly snapped a picture of the man for his next update to Langley. He now had a clear mark and turned his attention on following him.

  Dayo returned to the lobby of the hotel and made his way to the elevator. He looked back toward the lobby’s entrance as Michael peeled off to the front desk.

  “May I use your phone? My cell is dead,” said Michael.

  Dayo entered the elevator and gave it no thought. Michael soon left the lobby and met Ashani on the dock leading to the office.

  “That’s him, Michael,” said Ashani.

  “Can you find out his name? It looks like he is staying at the hotel.”

  Dayo Tinibu was within reach and continuous surveillance of the man would start right away.

  Michael made his way to the car while Ashani conversed with the front desk clerks.

  “Good afternoon, Tara and Claire.”

  “Ashani, have you come to ask me out again?”

  “No, Claire. You have broken my heart too many times. Has an African checked in the last couple of days?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “I heard from the harbor master he was looking for a tour guide to Kingston tomorrow. Can you tell me his name?”

  “You know I’m not supposed to do that, Ashani.”

  “I know, but I really need the money. Please, can you help a poor man earn a living? Have I ever let you down or harassed one of your guests?”

  “I guess not old man.”

  “Thank you, ladies. I would sweep you both off your feet if I were fifteen years younger.”

  “Don’t be silly, Ashani, but I like your charm and effort,” said Claire.

  “He checked in under Dayo Turay. Please do not ask for his room number, Ashani,” said Tara.

  “I won’t. Thank you very much. I will call later and ask you to transfer me to his room. I will bring you both flowers the next time I come back.”

  Ashani rejoined Michael in the car.

  “He checked in as Dayo Turay.”

  “First name matches what I’m looking for. He’s probably using a fake last name. This is our man, Ashani. Do you have friends we can use to watch him if he leaves?”

  “Yes, I know plenty of people in Kingston.”

  “How fast can you get them here?”

  “Give me an hour,” said Ashani.

  “Have you worked with them before?”

  “Yes. They can be trusted and they owe me some favors.”

  Ashani’s men arrived as promised. The three men pulled alongside Ashani’s car, as he flashed them the picture of Dayo.

  “This is the man I want you to keep an eye on. Let me know when he leaves the hotel. Your job is to follow him and keep me informed. We will be in Kingston for a while and return at lunch. Any questions?”

  Ashani and Michael left the hotel parking lot and began the short trip to Kingston. There, the two men would find a hotel and wait. Michael knew the Black River was nearby.

  The Black River, Caribbean Sea - November 12, 10:04 AM

  “Have you had a chance to study the map and plans for surveillance, Manjo?”

  “Yes, I think I have it.”

  Foday proceeded to question Manjo and after several minutes felt the young man was ready for more.

  “Good, Manjo. Now let us look at the second day.”

  “May I ask where I will be staying, Foday.”

  “Sure, I have a place in Brooklyn ready to go. I have a friend there that will allow you stay at his apartment during the mission.”

  “We will not be staying there together?”

  “No. I will be somewhere else. It is safer for us to remain apart. Now let us look at day two. Here, you will take the N train again to Times Square. There you will change trains and go to the red line, number 1. This train will be the Broadway, 7 Avenue Local. It will take you north to the Bronx, another borough in New York City. There, I want you to make two stops. Your first stop will be 137 Street/City College Broadway exit. I want you to walk a few blocks and look for areas where there are large concentrations of people. Get back on the red line. Your second stop will be the last station in the Bronx called Van Cortlandt Park 242. This will be your secondary target if security is too tight in the other locations. Keep looking at the maps this morning, and we’ll discuss a few more details in the afternoon.”

  Foday returned topside.

  “Fallubah, how does it look?”

  “We should be there around six o’clock tomorrow unless the weather changes.”

  “You think he’s up to it?”

  “Yes. He is still angry over his father and appears ready. I still need to determine exactly how to inject him with the virus. What do you think about doing it while he sleeps?”

  “Good idea. We need that anger to fuel his focus. He might wake up. Have you thought about just telling him?”

  “I have but am concerned it will be too much for him. His father’s slow death must have been gruesome, and I cannot imagine him going through that.”

/>   “Convince him to martyr himself then, Foday. Does he think the both of you will conduct more than one attack? Tell him the request comes from the Caliph directly. That should motivate him enough, I think.”

  “Maybe, Fallubah, but my concern is that the moment he feels symptoms he will panic and ask to be martyred earlier. The only chance this will work is if he is on the metro trains for at least two days. We cannot even be sure he will infect a single person. If we fail, the Caliph will be disappointed.”

  “Does that matter now, Foday?”

  “No. I suppose not. You are probably right, Fallubah. I’ll go below and speak with him.”

  “Manjo, Fallubah and I have spoken. There is something else I have not told you.”

  “What is it, Foday? Are you worried about my dedication to the mission?”

  “No, Manjo. I know you are committed. You must do something else before you begin the reconnaissance aboard the trains. I am not sure you will be as enthusiastic.”

  “I am ready for anything, Foday. I want to strike at the Americans.”

  “Inside my cabin, there is a refrigerator with several vials of blood. They contain Ebola. Your true purpose is to remain on the trains and attempt to infect as many people as you can. Allah willing, the virus will spread. Once you become too weak to travel, then you will carry out a suicide attack and martyr yourself.”

  Manjo sat back in his chair. The prospect of Ebola frightened him and conjured images of his father. Was he ready to die so soon, he asked himself? Foday waited for the information to settle in.

  “I will not suffer, Foday?”

  “No, absolutely not. As you know, the early symptoms are similar to the common cold and flu. Once you become weak, you will check in with me, and I will give you instructions. Your vest will already be in the apartment. When you are ready, you will wear it and go to one of the designated targets.”