Into The Shadows

by Michael Brady

  “Where exactly are you supposed to meet them?”

  “At the front of the cove. They are expecting us soon.”

  “What will they expect when we arrive?”

  “Nothing, Foday and Dayo will board the ship.”

  “Good. Does he expect a phone call from you?”

  “He does, as soon we get to the entrance of the cove he expects a call.”

  “Let’s make sure we forget that, Fallubah,” said Michael.

  “If I don’t call, he will figure something is wrong and may not board.”

  “I’ll worry about that Fallubah.”

  About an hour later, the Black River entered the quiet cove. It was a beautiful night as the moon’s light bounced off the cold Cuban waters. At the helm, Michael easily controlled the thrusters guiding the boat. Just prior, he placed painter’s tape on the mouths of Manjo and Fallubah. Ashani remained unconscious in the berthing room.

  Michael dropped the anchor and went below as the Black River came to a near stop. The insects and other various animals in and around the cove made their presence known. Chirping and buzzing, they seemed to sing in harmony.

  Foday and Dayo arrived within minutes of Michael laying the anchor. They approached the Black River in two boats. Foday would rejoin their brothers on the Black River while Ashani would take one of the boats and his cash with him.

  “Look, Foday the Black River is safe. This is good news. The mission can continue.”

  “Maybe Dayo, but where is Fallubah? He should be at the helm waiting for us. I do not like it. It’s too quiet.”

  “Stop worrying, Foday. You will soon be back on the open seas. We are safe. You will be in America in a couple of days. Your mission will be successful, and the Caliph will be pleased.”

  The men piloted their boats alongside the Black River. The insects and local animals continued their harmonious singing. Foday called out to Fallubah. Nothing. Then again. Nothing. The Black River was dead silent.

  “Dayo, grab your weapon. Let us board together and make our way slowly to the stairs. You lead down to the galley, understand?”

  “Okay Foday, but this is not necessary. There’s probably a very good reason why Fallubah is below.”

  “Whatever the reason, Dayo, it does not matter. He should have called and that makes me nervous. Let’s go and remain quiet.”

  The two men carefully entered the Black River. Their weapons drawn, Dayo led them down the steps into the galley. Michael noticed the feet of the approaching man. From his angle, it appeared he was seconds from noticing Manjo and Fallubah. Michael waited patiently in the corner of the galley and leaned forward. He was ready to strike.

  Foday placed his left hand on Dayo’s right shoulder as they neared the bottom of the steps. Foday shook his head, but Dayo continued.

  “Stop right there,” shouted Michael.

  Dayo crouched his upper torso down, turned to his left and attempted to fire two rounds. It was too late. Michael Brennan already had his weapon pointed at the man as his body came into view. Dayo fell forward and took his last breath.

  Foday stepped back and up one stair. He crouched his body down to see into the galley and finally saw Fallubah and Manjo. The walls and his angle of view prevented him from seeing the rest of the galley, but he saw Dayo fall.

  Foday stared at Fallubah. Fallubah could see the sadness in his eyes as he pointed his weapon at him. Fallubah attempted to smile and gave Foday the nod as if giving his friend the approval to fire. The two men were lifelong friends and grew up in the same village northeast of Kenema. This would not be an easy task for Foday, despite his propensity for violence. Fallubah was his friend and he condemned the man who put him there. A few seconds later, Foday pulled the trigger and placed a single round into his forehead. A sudden feeling of anger and sadness befell the man. His heart genuinely wept for Fallubah and he nearly became enraged. Manjo would be far less difficult. Foday turned to Manjo and the young farmer would die the same way. Fallubah and Manjo’s jihad were over. Foday would now have to accomplish the mission by himself.

  Michael stepped forward as he saw Manjo’s head move backward. Turning upward and to his right, he looked up the steps leading to the Black River’s upper deck. Michael and Foday stared into one another’s eyes for at least two seconds. Foday lurched his weapon to the left and fired, but Michael had already quickly moved as the two rounds found the galley floor.

  Foday stood up and raced to the ship’s stern. He jumped into the first small speedboat and removed the keys. Foday then quickly jumped to the second boat just ahead of him. With the turn of a key, he started the engine. Propellers turned, and into the Caribbean he went.

  Michael followed and made his way topside toward the sounds of the engine. He saw Foday speed off and jumped into the boat alongside the Black River. Almost instantly, Michael realized the key was missing.

  Michael watched as Foday slipped further into the darkness. His disappointment showed, but there was one consolation. Michael Brennan had a good look at the man and there were few places to hide.

  Guantanamo Bay, Cuba – November 15, 10:08 AM

  “Doug, it’s Michael.”

  “About time you called, are you at Gitmo now?”

  “Yes, thanks for the support last night. The Coast Guard came through and are holding Ashani. What are you going to do with him?”

  “Nothing until this operation is over. He will stay at Gitmo. I am arranging for transport to get you to New York tomorrow morning. If Foday makes it into the country, I want you there to stop him.”

  “Got it. The Sheikh did not give us all the Intel, Doug.”

  “I know. You made that clear last night when you called the operations center. Freetown is going to release his family today, but Cissi is moving to an offsite for further questioning.”

  “Have the analysts found any pictures of Foday?”

  “None, but they are looking at all sources. If we find one, it will probably come from open source. That analyst I told you about at INR is already running queries. Her team is looking for any pictures using social media and newspapers from the region. I have put a request into NSA to see if they can get into the bank’s video surveillance system, but that may be a long shot. I do not think they have much infrastructure built there. He’s got to be on camera somewhere.”

  “At least I’ve seen him. Can you make contact with INR and give her my number?”

  “Sure. Did you really get all your equipment back from Port Royal?”

  “Yes, Ashani must have come back for it before we left Port Royal. I’m not sure why, but I have everything, and it looks in order.”

  “They probably had plans to try and break into some of your equipment to find out what you know. Expect to hear from her this afternoon. Keep the operations center in the loop, but feel free to share mission data with her.”

  “What is her name?”

  “Leslie Parson. She’s good; use her if possible.”

  “What do you think of the maps found in the Black River, Doug?”

  “Probably useless by now. I cannot imagine the routes are still a viable option for Foday after the Black River’s compromise. He may develop a brand-new course of action. What worries me is how much, if any, additional support he has in New York?”

  “I’m betting he’s all alone on this. The planning was quick, and I believe the Sheikh left him off in case we intercepted the Black River. Sheikh Cissi’s infrastructure is relatively small, and according to your last report, he has no known networks or sympathizers in New York. I think if we find Foday, we find the Ebola and end this.”

  Michael hung up and now turned his attention to Laura. It had been three days since he heard from her and he wanted to reach out.

  Hi, Laura. A trip to Chicago sounds good. Stay warm and hope it goes well for you. A blue dress? Awesome. I love blu
e. It is my favorite color. I cannot wait to see you wearing it. Things are winding down over here, and I am hoping to be back in a few days, but do not hold me to it, please. Reference dessert, let me think on it and surprise you. Have a safe trip. Michael

  Intelligence Division, New York City Police Department – November 16, 1:55 PM

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Brennan. I’m Tony Carlucci, director of the Intelligence Division.”

  Tony Carlucci had been the director of the Intelligence Division since March 2014. A veteran intelligence analyst with the Defense Intelligence Agency, he resigned over what he described as apathy coming from the Obama administration regarding the rise of Islamic State. Tony believed the President’s national security team ignored DIA’s assessment in order to fit a political narrative. However, there were others in the intelligence community who believed he and his analysts did not provide enough evidence to warrant a policy change.

  “Hello, Tony. Thanks for the hospitality. Were you able to get INR on a secure link?”

  “We are setting it up now; your video teleconference is scheduled for two-fifteen PM. You will be using our executive conference room. I spoke with Langley, and some of my analysts will join us.”

  A short while later, Michael and Tony arrived in the conference room. Two intelligence analysts were waiting for them, along with a network administrator responsible for establishing the link with INR.

  “Do we have INR on the line, Terence?”

  “Yes, sir. Ready to go.”

  “Good afternoon everyone, I’m Tony Carlucci. I am here with Michael Brennan from CIA. Who are we speaking with?”

  “Tony, I am Leslie Parson, and this is my analytical team.”

  “Hi, Leslie, good to finally see you. How far back were you able to find pictures of the Sheikh?” asked Michael.

  “Hey, Michael. We looked as far back as ten years. Most of our efforts have gone toward social media sites where we looked for followers of the Sheikh. We did not find anything useful except an occasional single image of the Sheikh or him posing with people who posted to their Facebook or Twitter account. We found very few of these. However, we did find a few pictures of the Sheikh at local charity events surrounded by some members of the Mosque. I will show those to you in a minute. We also found a few images from the local press in and around Kenema. They are not very good, but it is the best we could do in the time constraints we are working in.”

  “Okay, Leslie. Can you start bringing them up on the screen?”

  Leslie and the team slowly began enlarging each picture within the collage which they downloaded onto their computer. They timed the duration of each frame at five seconds so Michael could get a good look. One by one, each photo crossed the large sixty-inch screen monitor, and Michael saw no one resembling the man from the Black River. Finally, on the twenty-sixth frame, Michael saw a possible match. There, Sheikh Cissi and several men from the Mosque posed in front of a new school outside the village of Hangha.

  “Hold that one, Leslie. Can you zoom in on the man on the far left?”

  “Sure, give me a second.”

  “That’s him, that’s the man I saw on the Black River. What is the name of the press release?”

  “According to the story, he is listed as Kossi Mensah.”

  “That’s our man, Leslie. Do you have the capability at INR to enhance the image?”

  “No, our team doesn’t have that capability.”

  “Michael, we can do it. We have the equipment here in the office. We could have an enhanced image within an hour,” said Carlucci.

  Carlucci was referring to the process of Digital Image Interpolation, which resizes images based on surrounding pixels. The Intelligence Division in New York had the technology fully implemented into its offices in 2008. With several software upgrades, coupled with technological advancements, Foday’s picture would become sharp and easily visible to law enforcement.

  “Good, we’ll need to get that to Homeland Security for distribution. He may or may not have gotten into the country by now. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and CBP or TSA will identify and apprehend him,” said Michael.

  “Leslie, do you think Foday will change his routes at this point?”

  “Anything is possible, but my first inclination is to say yes. I am betting he stays in the city and blends in for a few days to conduct surveillance of several trains.”

  “Why, would it matter where he got onto a metro train? Would it not be enough to just hop on one and take his chances? The longer he stays in New York, the more risk he assumes.”

  “Sure, Michael, but I suspect he will want to get on a crowded line. If he jumps on a train with fewer passengers, the chances for widespread infection will decrease. I seriously doubt he knows which lines are going to have the most people. Though he knows you saw him, he will probably assume he can easily blend into the city and conduct the required surveillance.”

  “Tony, do you have access to the camera feeds at each metro station?” asked Michael.

  “Yes, we can also alert each station manager on duty and send his photograph. Unless he completely changes his identity, we should be able to spot him and isolate him on one of the trains.”

  “Let’s hope we can catch him during his reconnaissance,” said Michael.

  “Leslie, great work on getting his photo. It must have taken your team many hours of work. Thank you very much,” said Michael.

  “Just get this guy, Michael. Even if only a few individuals are infected, the psychological damage to the country will be enormous.”

  “We will catch him, Leslie. Thanks for everything. I will be in touch if I have any questions.”

  Michael turned to Tony.

  “What kind of net can we cast over the city?”

  “Once we have the enhanced image, Michael, every police officer on every shift in all five boroughs will have seen his photo. We will repeat it every day until we find him. I will also alert the hazardous materials teams to remain on standby. He won’t be able to move around the city without us knowing it.”

  “I’m worried he may already be here,” said Michael.

  Langley, Virginia – November 16, 3:11 PM

  Doug Weatherbee sat at his desk. He was reviewing reports from other intelligence officers deployed throughout Africa, and one high priority update captured his attention. It came from an officer operating in Lagos, Nigeria. CIA had dozens of non-official cover officers there over the previous decades. However, its current strategic importance to the United States was due primarily to oil production and the rise of Boko Haram, a radical terror group and transnational organized crime syndicate in Africa.

  The report read, asset reports he received a request from a client in Freetown, Sierra Leone to transfer the sum of fifteen thousand dollars to a Bank of America account registered in Brooklyn, New York City. The transfer occurred on November 3 to Jesse Sane. Asset reports this is the first such request from a client to transfer dollars to the United States. The client is a member of the Council of Imams in Sierra Leone.

  Doug called Michael right away.

  “Michael, I may have a lead for us. One of our officers in Nigeria is reporting an asset of hers indicated a wire transfer of fifteen thousand dollars from a client in Freetown to Brooklyn. It could be nothing, but probably worth looking into until we get more Intel. I’ll send you whatever information we can collect on the account in Brooklyn.”

  “It’s something, Doug. I just finished here at the Intel division. We have Foday identified from photos that Leslie Parson’s team provided. NYPD is enhancing the image as we speak and will distribute to all the agencies and officers in the city. They are listing him as a person of interest.”

  “We needed that. With any luck, there will be a connection with Foday and the transaction. I imagine things are going to move quickly from this point. Find this person, Michael. NYPD think
s you’re an analyst so keep them in the loop where possible.”

  “Of course, Doug. Do me a favor and send Leslie the Intel on the client in Freetown. She may be able to put more pieces together if we run into any roadblocks here.”

  “I already plan to, Michael.”

  McMahon’s Ale House, Brooklyn, New York – November 16, 7:45 PM

  Peter Marsico sat at the table along with four fellow police officers at McMahons Ale House. None of the officers included members of his elite Hercules team, rather local patrol officers from inside the Brooklyn district. Peter enjoyed the local watering hole and routinely visited the locale several nights each week since his entire team was married. After seven days of suspension, boredom had officially kicked in. He wondered if he should have gone on vacation but needed the money to visit his family on the west coast. Christmas was on the horizon, and he had a new niece to spoil.

  “Peter, you hear about the guy whose picture hit the entire department this afternoon?”

  “Nope, who is he?”

  “A person of interest. Rumors are he is some terrorist trying to enter the city.”

  “Who issued the alert?”

  “Homeland Security.”

  “What is he? Al Qaeda, or from some domestic group?”

  “No idea. We’re just speculating.”

  “You got his picture handy?”

  “Sure do, right here on the cell.”

  “Text it to me.”

  “You’re still on suspension bud. I do not want to get an ass-kicking from the chief if he finds out.”

  “C’mon, Sal. Just give it to him already. Chief won’t know a thing,” said the man to his left.

  “Peter, by some freak chance you see this guy while you’re on suspension you call us first. Fair enough?”

  “He won’t, Sal. This guy won’t get within a mile of the city.”

  “Fair enough, Sal,” said Peter.