Task Force Identity

by I A Thompson

  “You should see the amenities.” Regina pointed in the direction of the gym and swimming pool. “Everything is ‘his’ and ‘hers’, very posh. Maybe Zach can give you a tour. And we’ll be happy to have you for lunch. We’ll try one of the restaurants you haven’t been to yet.”

  They were making their way to the entrance, when Regina felt a subtle tremor, almost too faint to notice. Due to a series of severe middle-ear infections as a child, her equilibrium reacted hypersensitive to any type of atmospheric changes, resulting in her feeling nauseous all of a sudden.

  “Do you guys have earthquakes here?” Regina asked.

  “Closer to the coast we do and a while back we felt the tremors of a relatively strong earthquake in the Iran-Iraq border region. Why?” Reza looked at her inquisitively.

  “I swear, I just felt the ground shaking,” Regina replied. “Did you not feel anything?”

  Reza shook his head. “No, I didn’t, but we can ask the doorman.” He pointed at the uniformed hotel employee opening the door for a couple leaving the hotel.

  The smiling doorman didn’t seem the least bit concerned as he welcomed them. The two of them had just cleared the revolving door when Regina felt another tremor, this time strong enough to rattle the silver orbs in the massive overhead chandelier. She was facing the elevator and for a split-second, she thought the floor was buckling.

  Reza grabbed her arm. “You may be right; this seems like an earthquake. We need to find a place to hunker down and shelter in place; at least that’s what the earthquake drills at the university instruct us to do.”

  47

  Zach had not been thrilled about Regina meeting with Reza Khan again. While she had certainly proven her value to the task force when it came to analytics and research ability, working a lead in the field by herself was not something she had been prepared for. He had to admit that she had held her own in every situation they had encountered so far. Then why could he not shake the feeling of uneasiness?

  I bet this guy is nothing but a player and yet he’s got her all bamboozled, he thought as he made his way to the hotel’s first floor brasserie, where he was meeting Kamal Aziz. Deep down he knew that he was experiencing a bout of jealousy. But this was not the time to deal with his feelings, since Kamal had raised his hand showing he had spotted him.

  “Zach, nice to finally meet you in person,” the Saudi Interpol agent said with a smile.

  “Likewise,” Zach replied. “Tell me, what’s your plan for today?”

  “You’re so eager my friend, all in good time. There is no rush. Everything is arranged.” Kamal flagged down a waiter and ordered a cup of coffee for himself and a coke for Zach, charging them to Zach’s room. “We will meet with Salib’s liaison in thirty minutes. Our rendezvous point is in the mezzanine between the garage and the convention center.”

  Zach studied the young Saudi’s face. His restless eyes, constantly scanning the room, belied the otherwise calm demeanor and soothing voice. “Should we put our bullet proof vests on, before we meet your contact?”

  Kamal shook his head. “No need. That guy is harmless. He won’t hurt a fly.”

  “Then why are you so skittish?”

  “Around here, you always have to be on your toes. You never know who is in who’s pockets. Occupational hazard, I guess.” Kamal shrugged. “Where is your partner?”

  “She’s meeting with another lead. She’ll catch up with us later.”

  “Very well, looks like we’re all set then.” Kamal said a few minutes later, drank the last sip of his coffee and got up. “Come on, time to go.”

  Kamal led the way, past swanky boutiques, jewelry stores and beauty parlors, the typical service providers found in luxury hotels. Frosted glass double-doors with the Burj Najjar emblem led them to the mezzanine, a cleverly architected seamless connection between the different parts of the hotel. It allowed employees and contractors to get everywhere quickly yet allowed them to stay out of sight of the patrons.

  A bearded young man in hotel uniform walked towards them, smiling and greeting Kamal with: “As-salamu alaykum.”

  “Wa-alaikum-salaam,” Kamal responded, then pointed at Zach. “Zahid, this is Zach, the guy I told you about.”

  “This is a good day for us to meet,” Zahid said in broken English to Zach. “If it is Allah’s will, we will do good work for him today. Now follow me, please.”

  Zach watched Kamal as he walked behind them deeper into the labyrinth that was the mezzanine. Given the easiness with which the two interacted, it was evident they knew each other well. Kamal’s previous nervousness had been replaced with calm assertiveness, where the younger Zahid seemed more excited.

  “He’s got something he wants to show us,” Kamal said, walking backwards for a few seconds, so he could face Zach.

  Zahid turned a corner and opened the door labeled ‘Boiler Room’ and stepped inside. “Come, come.” He waved Kamal and Zach into the room as he held the door open.

  Kamal followed Zahid’s instructions without hesitation, but Zach dragged his feet. His training and experience had conditioned him to consider the potential threat of any situation he encountered. Not knowing what he’d find on the other side, made him assess the danger level as high. He cautiously approached the door, his right hand on his gun, just in case.

  There wasn’t anything threatening visible from his vantage point, just a big room with mechanical equipment, supported by thick concrete columns. Zach took a deep breath, walked through the door and immediately side-stepped to make sure Zahid couldn’t sneak up behind him.

  He didn’t need to worry. The guy hurried past him, took the lead again and Zach began to relax slightly. Finally, he stopped in front of an enormous pipe maze, turned on his phone’s flashlight and lit up a set of grey bricks with red and blue wires sticking out of them.

  “I called you immediately when I found these, Kamal,” Zahid said. “I mean, it looks a bit like one of these bombs you see in movies, doesn’t it?”

  Zach’s mouth got very dry. It was a bomb and a big one at that. The pipes were rigged with enough C-4 explosives to flatten a city block. “You didn’t report this to the authorities?”

  “I did. I called Kamal. That’s why you’re here, right?”

  “You did good, my friend,” Kamal patted the younger man on the shoulder. “That is exactly why we’re here.”

  It didn’t make sense. If someone called in a bomb threat at home, bomb squad, fire and rescue and every able-bodied police officer would have been dispatched hours ago. And then it dawned on him.

  He glared at Kamal. “This is your doing! You fucking traitor! You are one of them!”

  Kamal smirked. “This is jihad. We fight our enemies with all means possible. And if that means infiltrating their organizations, so be it. You wanted to meet Omar Salib’s man. Well, here I am. And you’re about to witness one of our grandest operations to date. Unfortunately, you won’t be around to tell your infidel bosses about it.”

  “What are you saying, Kamal?” Zahid asked.

  Despite his own desperate situation, Zach felt sorry for the kid. “What he’s saying is that he’ll be blowing all of us in this building to Kingdom come in the name of Allah.”

  The snarky comment distracted Kamal for a split-second, just long enough for Zach to pull his gun and fire a shot at the terrorist. It wasn’t the clean kill shot Zach had wanted, but it was nonetheless lethal.

  Kamal grabbed his chest where a dark stain grew bigger by the second, while he fell backward to the ground. “You can’t stop this, Yankee,” were the last words he uttered, before he died.

  “Follow me!” Zach said to Zahid. “We need to get out of here and get the building evacuated, before this goes off!”

  They made it out of the boiler room, running as fast as they could, until Zach heard the first explosions. It was too late. He looked around for anything that could serve as shelter for what was about to come. But other than a stairwell with an ‘Emergency Exit’ sign
there wasn’t anything. He shoved Zahid through the door and under the stairs, then hunkered down next to him, hoping that this was by chance the central stair case in the middle of the building and thus their best chance of survival.

  The kid next to him cried, as the bombs went off and concrete, steel, and rubble started raining down on them. The heat became almost unbearable when the boiler room went up in flames. The last things that went through Zach’s head were hope that Regina was safe and regret that he didn’t tell her and his mother that he loved them.

  48

  The third tremor was significantly stronger and accompanied by what sounded like a series of firecrackers. The floor in front of the elevators caved and flames shot through the opening, scorching the ceiling. The floor-to-ceiling glass windows began to crack and break while dust and smoke quickly clouded the air, making it hard to see anything.

  The few people who had been in the lobby frantically scurried in different directions, trying to escape the falling debris amidst a cacophony of sounds and noxious fumes. Regina registered the smell of rotten eggs, likely from a busted sewer line; it made her gag.

  Her brain was in overdrive, trying to make sense of everything they were experiencing. Something wasn’t right. This building, just completed a few years ago, was built to the highest safety standards; a structural failure at ground level in the center of the building caving didn’t fit the picture.

  Reza was now pulling hard on her arm, dragging her to the nearest exit. “What are you doing?” she screamed at him, trying to free herself from his steely grip as she was coming out of her shock-like state.

  “We need to get out of here!” he yelled back and doubled down when she didn’t respond right away. “NOW! It’s going to blow!”

  She stared at him, and then it clicked in her head, he was right, someone had strategically rigged the building with explosives. The firecrackers they had heard were the sound of those explosives going off. How long ago was that? How much time did they have to get to safety?

  Regina’s legs got caught in her Abaya as Reza pulled her towards an emergency exit. She bunched up the garment and tucked it into her pants, so she wouldn’t trip, lungs burning as she ran after Reza towards the road and the ten-foot stone wall separating the compound from the outside world. It felt like an eternity until she reached the structure, cleared the doorway and hunkered down behind it.

  She felt Reza’s hand on her shoulder and looked up. His mouth was moving, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying over the ringing in her ears. Reza motioned for her to get up and follow him across the highway. Somewhere in her foggy brain, the thought came up that it would be dangerous to cross the multi-lane road. Just as quickly as it popped up it was gone again. When she stood up, she got hit by a wave of queasiness so strong, it made her throw up.

  Traffic had come to a complete stop as drivers watched in horror what was happening to the Burj Najjar hotel. Regina and Reza cleared the highway and made their way across a large parking lot on the other side to a one-story strip mall. When they finally reached the building, Regina collapsed against the wall, completely exhausted. Her head was now pounding, and she reached for the spot on the back that seemed to be the source. When she pulled her hand back, it was covered in blood.

  Before she had time to dwell on what might have hit her, the noise level across the street rose up and peaked as the building collapsed in a gigantic cloud of dust.

  In the surreal twilight caused by the dust and debris, Regina watched as other survivors made their way across the road and parking lot towards them. Just like her and Reza, they were covered in grime and blood. As the ringing in her ears subsided slightly, she began noticing wailing sounds around her and anxious voices chattering in Arabic.

  “Regina, let me see your head.” Somehow, Reza had gotten a bottle of water and a first aid kit. She hadn’t even noticed he was gone. He poured water over the gash and then iodine; she winced at the sting. “Good news,” he said. “It’s just a superficial flesh wound. Because they bleed badly, they tend to look worse than what they are. You’ll need some stitches, though, and it wouldn’t hurt to get an MRI to make sure you don’t have a concussion, but other than that, you should be fine.”

  Regina looked up. “What about you? Are you okay?”

  Reza nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. I got lucky. Tell me, will you be okay if I let you sit here for a bit? There are more people who will likely need help.” He pointed at the tattered figures walking towards them.

  “Yes, I’ll be fine,” Regina replied. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and for the headache to go away, hopefully taking the nightmare with it.

  “Here,” he handed her the bottle with the remaining water. “Don’t drink it all at once. Slowly, so you won’t throw up again.” Then he was gone again.

  Regina felt strangely detached, as she watched ambulances and police cars pulling up and a triage area being set up. Firetrucks were flooding the ruins of the hotel across the street and the adjacent buildings with water to make sure the various pockets of fire remained contained and didn’t cross over into the surrounding neighborhood. More and more people came to the triage area until the parking lot crawled with survivors and first responders.

  “Zach!” Regina jolted upright. She needed to find Zach. Where was her phone? And where was her purse? She remembered having it when she entered the hotel but had no recollection of seeing it afterwards. No purse, no phone.

  How was she going to find Zach? How was he going to find her? What if Reza wasn’t coming back for her? Her chest tightened as panic set in and worst-case scenarios started playing in her mind. Despite the heat of the day, she shivered as if she had been doused with ice water as she realized that she had no identification and no money on her.

  She started scanning the crowd in hopes of seeing Zach somewhere, but it was to no avail. Certainly, this was not the only first aid station. Forcing herself to breathe slower, she tried to clear her mind; Panic was a luxury she couldn’t afford now.

  If all else failed, she’d somehow make her way to the U.S. Embassy. She knew Zach would do the same. Would it be easier to take a cab and convince the guard at the gate to pay for the fare? Or, should she try and catch a ride from a police officer or an ambulance? Would they even let her in without identification? What did people normally do who lost their passports? She took a sip of water as she thought through all her options, continuing her steady and deep breathing, waiting for her heart rate to return to normal, and logic to prevail.

  She didn’t know how much time had passed until she saw Reza emerge from the crowd, his eyes searching for her. He looked tired and sad. At the same time, he exuded a quiet strength that was comforting.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked when he reached her.

  “Better,” she replied and then asked, pointing her chin at the triage area, “How bad is it?”

  “A few hundred injured as of now, a few dozen dead. The authorities are hopeful that the time of day may have limited the number of casualties as most people were out and about, taking care of business, but they won’t know for sure until they’re cleared to start rescue and recovery efforts in the ruins.”

  “Do you still have your phone?” Regina asked.

  “Yes. Did you lose yours?”

  “I think I dropped my purse when we got out of the lobby. My phone was in it. I need to call Zach.”

  Reza handed her his phone. She dialed Zach’s number and let it ring until it went to voicemail. “Nothing.” She gave Reza his phone back.

  “Don’t jump to conclusions. If he dialed your number, it would go to voicemail too, and you’re sitting here, alive and reasonably well.”

  Regina nodded politely, not the least bit convinced.

  49

  “I should have never let her go. She wasn’t prepared for field work in a hot zone.” DDA John Treadwell reached into his wholesale size container of fireball candy and popped one of the crimson orbs in his mouth. The sixth of t
he day and a clear indicator of his stress levels. He and Cliff Hernandez were waiting for Albert Tucker, the head of the United Nations Development Programme, UNDP, in Riyadh and local CIA station chief, to join their video conference.

  At the moment, they knew little about the attack on the Burj Najjar hotel; only what they were hearing on TV. And other than background information on the European chain who owned the hotel, there was not much more than speculation and sensationalized footage of the high-rise’s collapse into a giant heap of smoking rubble.

  “John, don’t do this to yourself. There’s no level of training that could have prepared any of our team members for something like this.” Hernandez paced the perimeter of Treadwell’s office, belying his calming words. “Besides that, there is a good chance they weren’t even in the hotel when it happened.”

  The emblem of the UNDP in Riyadh appeared on the screen and a moment later Tucker’s face appeared. “We found Regina. She is at Dallah Hospital for observation. No word yet from Zach and Kamal. Samir is trying to locate them.”

  “Were you able to speak with Regina? How is she?” Treadwell inquired.

  “No, but we spoke with the young man who brought her there. Reza Khan. She was with him when the attack occurred. They were in the lobby at the time and were able to get out before all hell broke loose. Regina sustained a head injury. According to Khan, they walked across the street, and he got her first aid at a makeshift triage center. They unsuccessfully tried to reach Zach, then Regina insisted they should try and get to the embassy. When he helped her get up, she collapsed and passed out. He flagged down an EMT from the triage center, got her into an ambulance and took her to Dallah where his father is an attending physician. She got stitches for a gash in her head, X-Rays and an MRI. She’s dehydrated and has a concussion, which is why they’re keeping her for observation, but other than that, it seems she’s okay.”