by David Spell
“Anything you need me to do?”
“Let Tu know I’m sending them some reinforcements. We’ll see what happens with Khan and then maybe can figure out a way to get eyes on that house in Wynnewood.”
NORTH OF PHILADELPHIA, SATURDAY, 1235 HOURS
Musa went through a Burger King drive thru on his way back, getting enough food to last him throughout the afternoon and evening. He hoped to finish wiring the explosives in the Camry in the next few hours. After the call to Empire Luxury Apartments, Khan had to assume that Abdallah was either in the custody of the Americans or something had had happened to him. When he got to his warehouse hideout, he would send a message to the other two inner circle members of the Brotherhood, letting them know that their leader appeared to be missing. Maybe they would even have some answers for him.
The Pakistani’s plan was to initiate the attacks at 1300 hours on Monday. The streets and sidewalks around the courthouse and police department would be packed with people returning from lunch. The soldiers of Allah would be simultaneously sent into the federal building and the Philadelphia PD headquarters, shooting down as many infidels as possible before activating their explosive vests. Even if only one or two were able to blow themselves up, it would create the perfect scene for second part of the attack.
Gerrard had volunteered to drive the explosives-laden Toyota Camry to the William J. Green Jr. Federal Building at 1310 hours. His instructions would be to drive up on the sidewalk and get as close to the courthouse as possible before squeezing the detonator. As with the others, though, the detonator was only a dummy, the bomb actually set to go off whenever Musa hit send on his phone. Khan’s hope was that the initial shooters would bring police and rescue units rushing to the scene, the perfect victims to feel the wrath of Allah when the car exploded in a roaring fireball.
The former intelligence officer continued to work through the details in his mind as he maneuvered the Hyundai SUV back towards the Schuylkill Business Center. After the American finishes with his training tomorrow, Khan thought, I’ll have Ishmael take him back to his vehicle. I’ll spend the night at the house to make sure that CoCo had not poisoned any of the others. On Monday morning, Ishmael and I can help the warriors prepare for their strike against the Great Satan.
As he entered the industrial park, the terrorist was grateful that none of the businesses seemed to be open on Saturday, allowing him to work without the fear of being discovered. What was that? he wondered, just catching a glance of something or someone ducking behind the rear corner of one of the office buildings at the front of the complex.
Khan took his foot off of the accelerator, tempted to turn around and investigate. He shook his head and kept driving, realizing that he was just being paranoid. There was no way that anyone knows I’m here and I need to get this car bomb finished, he thought. A quarter of a mile later, Musa turned left into the parking lot of his rented warehouse.
As he pulled in, he braked, scanning the area. The large asphalt lot was empty of vehicles. His building was the last one inside the business center. The road continued for another few hundred yards, coming to a dead-end near the tip fo the small island. The Schuylkill River was on the left, with the Manayunk Canal on the right, the River Trail running alongside of it.
Opposite of his facility sat another warehouse. The two buildings shared the parking area, a large green dumpster and a medium-sized blue one halfway between them. The terrorist continued to stare, his eyes carrying further, taking in the tree line behind his facility three hundred yards away. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something felt out of place. He drew his FN Five-Seven pistol, pushing the safety off and laying it in his lap. Musa always parked behind the building, keeping his vehicle out of sight of prying eyes.
He considered entering through the front door today, but wasn’t sure when the security patrol would come through. The fat officer that he had seen several times seemed harmless but Khan had been told by the leasing agent that Pro Security was very thorough and would often stop to speak with business owners about any concerns they might have. Musa had no desire to talk with anyone and hopefully, by parking in the rear, the security vehicle would drive on past him.
Still feeling uneasy, Khan took his foot off the brake and the Santa Fe started rolling again, even as he continued to look for anything out of the ordinary. As he reached the back of his warehouse and turned right to park, a glint of light off of glass caught his attention in the trees around a hundred feet away. Instinctively, he slammed on the brakes, pulled the gear shift into reverse, and shoved the accelerator to the floor.
Suddenly, two figures jumped to their feet off to his left, in the same area that he had seen the reflection and ran towards him, both holding long guns. Khan grabbed his pistol and triggered five shots with his right hand, blowing out the driver side window, the sound deafening inside the car. The former intelligence officer jerked the steering wheel to the left as bullets slammed into the Hyundai. Musa snapped off three more shots at the gunmen and was rewarded by seeing one of them stumble and drop to his knees.
The other attacker kept firing as Khan jerked the steering wheel to the right, snatched the transmission into drive and accelerated. A sudden violent impact hammered the rear of his left shoulder knocking him forward, a burst of searing pain causing him to gasp out loud. Musa ducked down below the dashboard as the Santa Fe continued to shudder with bullets pounding into it. The rear window exploded and several pieces of glass ripped open his scalp and neck.
More gunmen materialized up ahead of him to the right. They were standing inside the blue dumpster in the center of the parking lot, the muzzles of their submachine guns flashing, the windshield and passenger side windows shattering, with more glass digging into him. Another bullet penetrated his right side, the pain taking his breath away. Musa managed to raise the Five-Seven pistol and squeeze off eight more 5.7x28mm rounds, the two shooters diving below the blue metal wall for cover. Several other thumps hammered the rear of vehicle as Khan neared the main road.
The terrorist paused for a second. Do I turn right or left? He now realized that he had seen someone earlier, acting as a lookout just inside the business park. His left arm had gone numb and was barely functional and the wound in his side felt like a hot knife had been shoved between his ribs, blood flowing from the injuries.
A large SUV suddenly appeared to his right, roaring towards him. Instinctively, Khan fired four shots at the new threat as he turned left, gunning the engine down the dead-end road.
McCain, Donaldson, and the others waited with anticipation for the terrorist to arrive. Jones and Estrada continued to keep watch on the road. Chuck had sat Officer Feely up, letting him lean against his pickup. The security guard had attempted to get up once, but the flex cuffs on his wrists and ankles convinced him that was a bad idea. McCain pulled the hood up and gave him some water to drink.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Chuck told him. “Behave yourself and you’ll be home in time for dinner. Later on, you can go to the police and make a report on us. That’s probably a bad idea because we really are with the government, but feel free to try.”
At the target location, Wade and Hunt were positioned in the trees behind the building, lying prone twenty-five yards back from the edge of the parking lot. Fleming and Smith drew the short straw and were sitting inside a dumpster, adjacent to Khan’s warehouse in the middle of the wide-open lot. The only good news for Scotty and Andy was that the trash container was empty. The stench was still overwhelming and their clothes would need to be thrown out, but there was no better place to hide, given their surroundings.
The sound of a car came from the street opposite of the offices that Chuck and Tu were hiding behind. Jimmy jerked back from the corner.
“A dark SUV just drove by. I only got a glimpse, but it looked like our boy.”
Chloe quickly shifted the drone’s camera, letting them see the vehicle moving towards the back of the complex.
“Alph
a One to all units,” Tu transmitted, “an SUV should be there in less than one.”
“Alpha Two clear,” LeMarcus responded.
The team held their breaths with anticipation as the suspect vehicle turned into the parking lot, but stopped near the roadway. After almost a minute, it was rolling again, towards the back of the building. LeMarcus and Terry stared through their Aimpoint sights, both pushing the safety levers on their MP5s to three-shot burst. The vehicle was close enough now that they recognized Musa Khan in the driver’s seat.
Just as the SUV turned right behind the warehouse, Khan slammed on the brakes and threw it into reverse. The CIA agents both leapt to their feet, charging towards the terrorist. Gunfire exploded as Musa shot through his window at the running men. Instinctively, they separated with Terry moving to the left and returning fire. LeMarcus ducked right, squeezing off two bursts of 9mm hollow points.
Even as he was taking evasive action and turning the Hyundai around, Khan triggered his pistol again. An impact like a baseball bat slammed into the former recon Marine’s right leg, sending him to his knees. Tires squealing, Musa expertly got his ride racing in the opposite direction.
Hunt continued to pump rounds into the fleeing vehicle. The former parajumper heard his partner grunt and saw him go down. Just as his bolt locked open, Terry also got a glimpse of Khan lurching forward and then ducking his head down. By this time, the SUV was approaching the dumpster, where Scotty and Andy were already unloading their own subguns into the passenger compartment.
“Alpha Three to all units. Alpha Two is down” Hunt transmitted. “Suspect is fleeing towards the main road now.”
LeMarcus was lying on his left side, holding a palm against the wound on his right leg, blood seeping through his fingers. Terry rushed over grabbing at the medkit on Wade’s belt. Parajumpers have a high level of first aid training, their mission being primarily that of rescuing downed pilots behind enemy lines. From the amount of blood coming out of his friend’s leg, the former PJ knew he had to act fast.
More gunfire echoed between the two buildings as the terrorist turned left out of the parking lot. A black Yukon rushed in from the other direction in pursuit. Hunt kept his focus on the wounded man in front of him. The bullet had entered a few inches above the knee. Terry quickly applied a tourniquet high on the leg. Wade gasped in pain as his partner cinched it down tight to stop the flow of blood.
“You’re gonna be OK,” Hunt said, pressing a heavy bandage over the wound. “I need you to hold this in place. Put some pressure on it.”
“Shit! That hurts!” LeMarcus said, pushing himself up to s seated position, the injured leg extended straight out in front of him.
Even wounded, the former Marine’s training kicked in as he picked up his subgun, pulled the mostly empty magazine out, and inserted a fresh one. Terry took a moment to scan the area as he reloaded his own MP5. Fleming and Smith were sprinting towards the road. A few seconds later gunfire exploded from the end of the island before everything went silent.
The tourniquet had done the trick, probably saving LeMarcus’ life. The bleeding was under control but they still needed to get him to an emergency room as quickly as they could.
“Alpha One to Alpha Three, status check?” Tu’s voice asked over their earpieces.
“Alpha One, he’s stable for the moment. Gunshot wound to the thigh. The bleeding has been stopped but we need to get him to a hospital ASAP.”
“Alpha One is clear. I’ll advise in a few. We’ve still got a situation down here where the road ends.”
McCain and Donaldson were in motion as soon as they heard the first gunshots. The Asian dove into the driver’s seat of the Yukon as the big man took the passenger seat. Jones slid into the backseat, almost falling out of the vehicle before he could get his door shut as Tu accelerated towards the scene.
“Hollywood, you’ve got security for the girls,” Tu yelled out the window. “Chloe, keep that drone over Khan!”
The Yukon raced towards the rear of the industrial park, the gunfight raging loudly enough for the three men to hear through their open windows. Suddenly, the Hyundai appeared in front of them a hundred yards away. The muzzle flash of a pistol fired from inside the fleeing vehicle caused them try and get as low as they could, even as a bullet hit high on the windshield, cracking it. A loud thud from the front of the Yukon let them know a second round had found its target, as well. Khan turned left, accelerating away from them.
“Get ready!” Chuck said as he clutched his submachine gun. “This road is a dead end. There’s no place for him to go.”
As they rounded a slight curve, the suspect vehicle was stopped sideways in the road less than a hundred feet away.
Khan was hurting and already feeling the effects from the blood that he had lost and the shock that his body was experiencing. He could see ahead where the road ended and shoved the brake pedal to the floor, turned the wheels to the right, and pushed open his door. He grabbed a second magazine off his belt, even as his left shoulder screamed at the exertion. Musa managed to dump the empty mag and get the full one into the pistol just as his pursuers rounded the curve.
He emptied half of the twenty-round magazine into the passenger compartment as they skidded to a stop. Khan sprinted for the trees, glancing back to see if he had hit anyone. The passenger was the first one out, his suppressed subgun sending return fire his way. Where have I seen that man before? he wondered, triggering two more rounds towards his attacker.
Just as the terrorist reached the wood line that would give him some cover, as well as access to the river, a sudden impact sent his pistol flying and caused him to lose his balance. Another burning sensation ripped across his left thigh, his entire body screaming at him in agony. He recovered quickly, though, even with all the damage that he had sustained, his survival instinct strong. Bullets slammed into the trees around him as he sprinted. The infidels will not kill me easily, he thought, throwing himself into the Schuylkill River. He was already many yards downstream in the rapidly moving current when his attackers appeared at the shoreline, the big white man that he had exchanged gunfire with, an Asian man, and a black man.
Musa took a deep breath, ducking beneath the cold, fast-moving water. When he surfaced much further down the river, his pursuers were rushing down the bank, looking for him. Now I remember you, Khan thought. The big man had killed his two MS-13 assassins in the hospital when they had gone to finish the job on former CIA ops director Sandra Dunning after the first attempt on her life had failed.
The terrorist shivered, swimming as best he could towards the middle of the river. The cold water helped to ease his pain as numbness set in. I’ve got to get out of here, he knew, before hypothermia took effect. Ten minutes later, Khan crawled out of the water and up a two-foot embankment, where he collapsed in a patch of thick brush.
ONE MILE DOWNRIVER, PHILADELPHIA, SATURDAY, 1325 HOURS
Musa’s shivering awakened him as he lay face down thirty feet from the water, surrounded by heavy brush on the north side of the Schuylkill. Before passing out, he had managed to crawl inland as briars tore at his skin, adding to his numerous injuries. The temperatures were not freezing, as it was spring time in America. A cool breeze, however, chilled him as he tried to push himself to his feet. The pain was so severe, a sudden burst of nausea racked his body and the Pakistani puked up all the contents of his stomach. I must’ve swallowed a lot of river water during my escape, he thought. There’s no telling what kinds of bacteria are swimming around inside my body.
He recognized the irony. I was shot three or four times and I’m worrying about dying from drinking bad water. After finally managing to stand, Khan checked his wounds, leaning against a tree to steady himself. He reached around with his right hand probing the gunshot to his left shoulder. The touch sent a fresh shockwave of pain through him, buckling his knees. Any movement with his left arm only caused the agony to intensify. At the same time, it could’ve been worse. The bullet hit high, betwee
n the rear deltoid and trapezius muscles. There was still a lot of damage, though, and he could feel the broken bones.
Musa pulled up his shirt and probed the wound to his right side. It hurt as well, and there was clearly a projectile or piece of a projectile lodged in his side, not too far below the surface. He attempted to take a deep breath, gasping in pain. At least one broken rib, he realized. That bullet came from the two attackers in the dumpster. It had likely penetrated the car door, with whatever was left of the projectile striking him. If I hadn’t ducked down, my attackers would’ve killed me easily.
The next wound that he checked was his left thigh. That had come from the big man’s submachine gun. Thankfully, his speed had spoiled the infidel’s aim. Instead of penetrating, the bullet had only grazed him, taking a chunk of flesh as it went, but not striking any bone. His leg was already stiffening up, but at least he could walk.
Khan’s right hand also throbbed from where his weapon had been struck and sent flying. He made a fist, clenching it without any problem. Thank Allah, the round had smashed into the pistol but not his hand.
Miraculously, his Chinese smart phone was still in his pants pocket, and even more of a miracle was that it still seemed to work. He started to call Ishmael but decided to wait, not sure who had betrayed him this time. I’ve lost everything that I had on this side of town: the vehicle, my pistol, my laptop, the warehouse, the explosives, and the money.