by J B Black
“That ex-soldier now lives just thirty minutes from here in Seaside Beach, Alabama. Included in the documents I have given you is his address and several recent photographs so that you can easily recognize him.
“Your mission is to capture this infidel and take him to our training camp. There, you will force him to confess to murdering the eight Afghanis he killed in Lashwan and have him apologize for his crime.
“In the documents I have given you, I have included a prepared statement for him to read. You are to use your phone to record a video of both his confession and apology. After you have his confession and apology, you will behead the infidel. You are to record the beheading, also, and we will post the video on the Internet.
“When you arrive at the address in Seaside Beach, call me to let me know that you are there, in case I have any new instructions for you. After you have captured the infidel and secured him in your vehicle, I want you to call me again before you leave to go to the training camp, just in case I have any new instructions for you. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Imam,” the three men replied.
“Good. Now, go exact vengeance for our fallen brothers in Lashwan,” Abdul said. “And may Allah watch over you on your mission tonight. Remember, you are the sword of Allah.”
Abdul watched the three jihadis as they drove out of the mosque’s parking lot. He glanced at his watch and noted that the time was 7:43 p.m. He needed to call Hassan and let him know that there had been a change in the plan—the timetable had been moved up.
CHAPTER 25
Rusty’s Marina
Slip D7
Seaside Beach, Alabama
Saturday, April 15, 2010
7:45 p.m. Central Time
The sun was going down when Reb and Honey returned to the marina. Honey backed the Revenge into its slip while Reb jumped over onto the port side finger pier and started securing the lines to hold the Revenge in place.
After securing all of the lines, Reb and Honey quickly got to work washing down the deck of the cockpit area to clean it of the day’s accumulation of fish blood, fish scales, and fish slime using environmentally friendly, biodegradable detergent and a mop and a sponge. Next, they rinsed everything off and then they dried the excess water off the deck with some cotton towels.
“Everything looks ship shape,” Reb said, as he lifted the ice chest—full of fish fillets from the day’s catch—out of the boat and placed it on the pier.
He stepped over onto the pier and then helped Honey over. They each grabbed a handle on the ice chest and started walking down the pier toward the parking lot where Reb’s SUV was parked.
As they walked to the parking lot, Reb asked, “You want to go someplace and get some supper or go back to the condo?”
Honey was wearing a pair of loose fitting blue jeans over her thong bikini bottom and a not so loose fitting T-shirt over her bikini top. The T-shirt was tucked into the blue jeans. Over the T-shirt, she was wearing an untucked and unbuttoned long sleeve plaid cotton shirt that used to belong to Reb until Honey had appropriated it for her use. On her right hip, she was carrying her compact 9mm holstered inside the waistband of her jeans.
There was fish blood, fish scales, and fish slime smeared on her jeans and her T-shirt.
“Reb, I’m not exactly dressed to be seen out in public,” Honey said.
“You look beautiful to me,” Reb said.
“Oh, Reb, you are so full of it,” Honey said, smiling at him.
“There are several places to go eat around here where they don’t mind serving folks who have been out in the gulf fishing all day and are a little grungy looking,” Reb said. “Just another reason why they call this the Redneck Riviera.”
When Reb and Honey got to the marina’s parking lot, Reb’s SUV was one of only three vehicles parked there.
“Looks like some folks are running a little late or are going to spend the night out in the Gulf,” Reb said.
“That sounds like fun,” Honey said. “Tonight would be a pretty night for that kind of thing.”
Reb and Honey took their seats inside the SUV after putting the ice chest in the rear of the vehicle. Reb started the SUV, turned to Honey, and said, “What’s it going to be, darling? Eat out? Or go home? The bus driver needs some directions.”
“Start driving,” Honey said. “I haven’t made up my mind just yet.”
CHAPTER 26
Megan Gallagher’s Residence
Washington, D.C.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
8:50 p.m. Eastern Time
Hassan was returning to Megan’s bedroom from the bathroom, when his burner phone started ringing. Megan, who was sitting up in bed smoking a cigarette, glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s way too early for the call you were expecting. Something must have gone wrong.”
* * *
Hassan arrived at Megan’s home just before six. A short while later they were seated at the dining room table enjoying a glass of red wine with the steak, baked potato, and salad that Megan had prepared. While they ate, Hassan explained to Megan that the team—who would carry out the plan to kidnap Rogers, coerce a confession from him that he was the Butcher of Lashwan, and then execute him by beheading him—were scheduled to leave their mosque right after the Night Prayer service.
“The Night Prayer will start at eight fifty-one at the mosque in Pensacola, Florida,” Hassan said. “The prayers usually last about twenty-five minutes. When I checked the directions from the mosque in Pensacola to where Rogers lives in Seaside Beach, Alabama, the estimated travel time at that time of night is thirty-five minutes. Based on my calculations, the team should arrive at Rogers’ address around ten o’clock local time, which would be eleven o’clock our time.
“If Rogers is home, we should know that they were successful in kidnapping or killing him by … say around eleven thirty our time. That assumes that Rogers is home and not out of town, or spending the night at a girlfriend’s place, or any other scenario that would interfere with the plan.
“At any rate, my friend in Pensacola is to call me around ten-twenty to let me know that the team is on their way to Seaside Beach, Alabama and everything is on schedule.
“So, we’ve got about three and a half hours to kill before I’m expecting that first call. What would you like to do while we wait?”
* * *
Hassan looked at his burner phone and saw that the number of the caller belonged to the burner phone that Abdul Aswad was currently using.
“Allah is Great,” Hassan said when he answered his phone.
“Allah is Merciful,” Abdul replied.
“Imam, why are you calling at this time?” Hassan asked. “Is there a problem?”
“No. There is no problem and I apologize, but there has been a small change in the plan—we decided to go after the evening prayer instead of the night prayer. The team left a few minutes ago and I just wanted to let you know.”
“I’m relieved. I thought something might have gone wrong,” Hassan said. “Are there any other changes I should be aware of?”
Abdul noted a hint of annoyance in Hassan’s voice. “No, and I will call you after they let me know that they have arrived.”
* * *
Hassan looked over at Megan, who was looking at him waiting for him to tell her what was going on. “It is nothing, just a small change to the plan. The team left early and is on its way. They are to call again when they arrive in Seaside Beach.”
CHAPTER 27
Seaside Tower Condominium Complex
Seaside Beach, Alabama
Saturday, April 17, 2010
8:02 p.m. Central Time
Shortly after eight o’clock, Tariq turned left off of Perdido Beach Boulevard and drove the van into the ground floor level of the parking garage for the Seaside Towers Condominium Complex where Reb Rogers lived. Traffic had been light and they had made good time. Tariq found a vacant visitor’s parking spot near an elevator and parked the van.
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br /> Seaside Tower was serviced by three elevators that were on the street side of the building—one at the west end, one at the east end, and one in the middle.
Omar and Mohamed exited the van, rode the middle elevator up to the twelfth floor, and walked down the breezeway to the address they had for Reb Rogers. After several tries ringing the doorbell with no success, they started banging on the door.
* * *
Rusty Gordon had had enough. His nice, peaceful Saturday night had turned to shit because some asshole was banging on the door of one of his next door neighbors loud enough that he couldn’t hear what Gibbs was saying to Tony on the NCIS rerun he was watching.
Rusty picked up his remote control from the table next to his easy chair and punched the pause button. He got up from his easy chair and picked up the pistol he kept on the table next to his remote at all times. He went to the front door, opened it, and looked down the breezeway in the direction of the noise. He saw two men standing in front of Reb Rogers’ door and, while Rusty watched, one of them started banging his fist loudly on the door, again.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rusty yelled.
Both men spun around in Rusty’s direction and stood there looking at him for a second before the shorter one said, “We’re looking for Reb Rogers.”
Rusty stepped slightly out in the breezeway—keeping his gun hand hidden behind him—and said, “Well, you dumbasses’ve managed to piss off just about everybody in the goddamn building with your banging on his door like that, so, if Reb ain’t answered his door by now, I’d have to say he ain’t home, yet.”
Omar and Mohamed turned red in the face and fought the urge to kill the infidel for having talked to them that way.
“Do you know when he will return?” the shorter of the two asked.
“Do I look like I keep up with his social calendar or something?” Rusty said.
“We’ll come back later,” the taller of the two said.
Rusty glared at the two men and said, “You boys come back later and bang on Reb’s door again and wake me up, I’ll call the police on you. You understand me?”
The two jihadis scowled sullenly at Rusty for a moment, then turned, and started walking back toward the middle elevator away from where Rusty was standing.
As they were walking away, Rusty overheard the shorter one say, “Do you think the old fool will call the police, Omar?”
“Pay the infidel no attention, Mohamed, he is of no consequence to our mission,” the taller one said in reply.
So, I’m an old fool, an infidel, and of no consequence. I guess they think I’m hard of hearing, too, Rusty thought to himself, as he went back inside his condo.
As soon as he locked his door, Rusty walked back to his easy chair, put his pistol back on the table next to the remote, took out his smart phone, and called Reb’s cell phone. The call went to Reb’s voicemail. Rusty ended the call. He tried calling Reb’s phone again and he got Reb’s voicemail again. Instead of hanging up he decided it would be best to leave Reb a warning.
“Reb, this is Rusty and it’s a quarter after eight. I just ran off two Arab looking boys who were banging on your front door looking for you by name. They didn’t look any too friendly and they called me an infidel. So, I’m guessing they were Muslims. By the way, both of them were armed—I could see their guns printing under their shirts. Anyway, hopefully, you’ll check your voicemail and get this message. Forewarned is forearmed in case these boys are up to no good. Bye.”
Rusty hung up and thought to himself, I sure hope Reb checks his voicemail.
CHAPTER 28
Seaside Tower Condominium Complex
Seaside Beach, Alabama
Saturday, April 17, 2010
8:30 p.m. Central Time
After their encounter with Reb Rogers’ next door neighbor, Omar and Mohamed rode the middle elevator back down to the parking garage on the ground floor level and rejoined Tariq in the minivan.
Omar reported to Tariq, “He was not at home.”
“An old infidel heard us knocking on his door,” Mohamed added. “He told us that if we came back he would call the police.”
“That is not a problem,” Tariq replied, as he started the minivan. “I called the Imam while you were gone to report that we had arrived and that the two of you had gone to find him. He suggested that, in case we did not find Rogers at his home, we find his assigned parking space, park nearby, and keep an eye out for his return. I found a directory showing the parking assignments. The parking spaces for his unit are on the third level of the garage.”
They drove up to the third level of the garage and, after a few minutes, they found the two parking spaces reserved for unit 1203. The parking spaces for unit 1203 were near the west elevator and both of them were vacant.
Fortunately, they found a vacant parking space designated for visitors right across the way from Reb Rogers’ parking spaces where they could wait and watch for his return.
Tariq checked his watch and saw that it was 8:35 pm. When he looked back at the parking space reserved for Reb Rogers, a large white SUV was pulling in.
“That must be him,” Omar said, moving in his seat, getting ready to exit the minivan.
“Hold on,” Tariq said, putting his hand on Omar’s shoulder to stop him. “Let’s make sure it is Reb Rogers. Wait until whoever it is gets out and see if he matches the photograph we have.”
The three jihadis watched as a man got out on the driver’s side of the SUV and a woman got out on the passenger side.
As the man began walking to the rear of the SUV, Omar glanced at the photograph of Reb Rogers that he was holding. Omar looked back at the man and then back at the photograph again.
Omar turned toward Tariq and said, “That is most assuredly Reb Rogers.”
As Omar was putting the photograph back into the manila envelope, Tariq said, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, that is him.”
Tariq said “Okay, get ready while I let the Imam know that Rogers has arrived.”
Tariq took out his phone and called the Imam. When Abdul Aswad answered, Tariq said, “Reb Rogers is here.”
Abdul Aswad said, “May Allah watch over you.”
Tariq cut the connection and turned to the other two jihadists and said, “Remember, my brothers, we want to capture him. Killing him is a last resort.”
Omar said, “Allah is great.”
Mohamed, who was sitting in the rear of the minivan, pulled out his hunting knife and said, “I am the sword of Allah.”
* * *
Mohamed opened the sliding rear door to get out and found himself looking at the business end of a 12 gauge riot gun pointed right at his face. The police officer standing just outside the door holding the shotgun shouted, “Freeze, Ahab. Don’t you or your buddies even twitch or I’ll blow your head clean off.”
* * *
Reb and Honey had opened the rear door of Reb’s SUV and were in the process of unloading the cooler full of fish from the rear, when Reb heard his friend Billy Morris, the Chief of Police of Seaside Beach, Alabama, shout, “Freeze.”
When Reb spun around, he spotted Billy standing next to a minivan that was backed up to one of the garage’s massive concrete support columns, parked in one of the visitor parking spots right across the way from where Reb was parked. Billy was pointing a riot gun at the occupants of the minivan.
Reb quickly drew his handgun from the holster inside the waistband of his trousers. Honey reached inside her open shirt with her right hand and drew her handgun from its concealed carry position on her right hip. Together, they ran over to the front of the minivan where they pointed their guns at the two men in the front seats who were awkwardly holding AK-47s pointed straight up toward the ceiling.
Reb yelled at the driver, “Don’t even think about it.”
CHAPTER 29
Megan Gallagher’s Residence
Washington, D.C.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
9:35 p.m. Eastern Time
Hassan was in bed with Megan watching the rise and fall of her breasts as she smoked her after-sex cigarette. They were killing time waiting to hear from Abdul again.
Hassan hadn’t heard anything since Abdul had called, just after nine o’clock, to let him know that the team members of the jihadi cell had arrived at Reb Rogers’ residence in Seaside Beach, Alabama.
The next call should be to let him know that the team had either captured Rogers or killed him.
Hassan checked his watch and saw that it was now 9:35 pm.
He couldn’t imagine why it was taking so long to hear back from Abdul unless something had gone wrong. There were any number of possibilities he thought to himself. Reb Rogers could be out of town, or he could be spending the night with—
Hassan’s phone rang and he saw that it was Abdul calling.
“Allah is Great,” Hassan said when he answered his phone.
“Allah is Merciful,” Abdul replied.
“Hello, Imam,” Hassan said. “What news do you have for me?”
“My friends just called,” Abdul said. “They wanted to let me know that the person they went to visit finally showed up. I will call you when I know more.”
Abdul hung up and Hassan turned to Megan, who was looking at him expectantly, and said, “Apparently they have been waiting for Rogers all this time and now Rogers has arrived.”
“So, what do we do now?” Megan asked.
“The wheels are in motion,” Hassan replied. “All we can do now is wait. Hopefully, we won’t have to wait long to learn that the team has captured Rogers and they are transporting him to the location where they plan to get his confession and then execute him. Or that they have killed him in the process of trying to capture him. Either way, if they are successful, I would expect to hear something in the next half hour or so. We might as well try to relax because this is the time that, if anything can go wrong, it will.”