by David Spell
A flight of seven wooden steps led up to the landing. There were no windows next to the entrance, although a six-inch by six-inch window was inserted at head height on the door. Andy already had his lock picks out, moving slowly up the stairs, stepping lightly in case any of them squeaked. He quickly went to work on the doorknob lock. In seconds, the tumblers had given way and he turned his attention to the deadbolt. These were generally more difficult, but Fleming was a master lock picker.
“Alpha Four to Alpha One,” Jimmy’s voice in their ears startled them. “Sensor lights in the back. We just set them off. We’ve got movement inside. Permission to breach?”
The element of surprise was a tricky thing. Once it was lost, it was impossible to regain.
“How much longer, Andy?”
“I hear noises, too. Let Scotty kick it.”
“Do it,” he ordered, tapping Smith on the shoulder before radioing his other two teammates. “Alpha One to Alpha Four, breach!”
The massive former Ranger was already rushing up the front steps. He paused slightly at the top of the landing as Fleming moved out of the way. Smith then drove his big foot into the door, smashing it open and shattering the frame. At the same time, the sound of glass breaking carried through the open door from the rear of the house.
Jimmy, Andy and Chuck threw themselves inside as gunshots rang out, the muzzle flashes lighting up the interior like bolts of lightning.
Khan had never been a sound sleeper. His serious injuries and two months in the hospital, however, had disrupted his normal rhythm and he found himself sleeping longer and deeper than he ever had before. In the past, he had always been a light sleeper, alert to any noise that might indicate his enemies were nearby.
As he had laid in bed in the master bedroom at 10:55pm, he was grateful for how Allah had guided him and blessed him. He was thankful for the hideout, even if it wasn’t the most secure place that he had stayed. The location was good, making it difficult for anyone to sneak up on him. At the same time, his escape options were limited. The river was behind him, a creek ran beside him, he had no transportation, and he wasn’t familiar with the area at all.
Next week, I’ll speak with Evans about loaning me a car. Maybe he could also arrange to have my backpack retrieved from the bus station in Washington, D.C. That would give me a little more cash to work with, as well. So far, Lawrence has given no indication that he might betray me. It would be good to give him some money to help cover my expenses and stay in his good will.
A slight metallic noise awakened the former intelligence officer. The clock on the bedside table let him know that it was 3:37am. He heard it again, vigorously rubbing his eyes, forcing himself awake. It sounded like it was coming from the front door. Khan grabbed the pistol from under his pillow, swinging his legs over and sitting on the side of the bed, his ears straining.
The terrorist stood, pleased that there was no dizziness. He padded softly to the bedroom door, gently turning the handle, and opening it a few inches to see if he could hear anything else. A board on the front porch creaked. It wasn’t loud but it was enough for Musa to know that he had enemies at the door. He took a deep breath, aiming the M&P 9mm at the top of the stairs down the hallway to his left, anticipating having company coming through his front door at any moment.
Suddenly, back to his right the sensor lights on the rear of the house came on, bathing the deck in bright light, as well as illuminating the dining area and kitchen. Glancing over his shoulder, he just glimpsed silhouettes moving to the side of the opening, out of his line-of-sight through the sliding glass door. Now, he could hear voices outside the residence, calmly realizing that he was surrounded.
At almost the exact same time, the sliding door shattered into a million pieces and the front burst open, splinters of the frame flying into the air. With threats coming from both sides, Khan hesitated for a millisecond, turning towards the attackers coming from the deck, already on the same level with him. He squeezed the trigger twice as two figures rushed into the house, one turning right, the other to the left, the Pakistani’s shots flying out the open door towards the dark river.
As Khan tried to get a bead on the moving targets coming from the rear of the house, footsteps pounded up the stairs behind him. As he swung his pistol towards the new threat, something slammed into his chest, knocking him backwards into the door frame, his weapon dropping to the floor. As he bent to retrieve it, a searing pain tore through his right arm, the appendage now hanging uselessly. Musa attempted to take a breath, but found himself coughing as he collapsed to his knees, reaching for the Smith & Wesson with his left hand.
Several more impacts punched him in the back, knocking him forward and Khan found himself face down in the hallway, unable to move. He still couldn’t breathe, feeling the liquid in his lungs, blood spraying the carpet as he coughed. Flashlights illuminated the dying man. Musa glimpsed several men with black masks staring down at him without sympathy. A big man kicked the M&P out of Khan’s reach as the terrorist tried to take a breath, feeling his life slipping away. Someone knelt next to him, shining a light into his eyes.
“Enjoy hell, asshole,” Khan heard an accented voice say as his heart stopped beating.
“Everybody OK?” Chuck asked.
After confirming that no one had been injured, he pressed transmit on his radio.
“Alpha One to support team, we’re code four, objective complete. Monitor local 911 traffic for any reports of gunshots.”
“Alpha Eight to Alpha One, we’re clear.”
Even minus his beard, there was no mistaking that the dead man at their feet was the most wanted fugitive in the world. There was no time to celebrate, however.
“Jimmy, you were the track star. Run and grab our vehicle and bring it down here. We need to move quick. Andy, where do you want to set up?”
“Let me and Scotty clear downstairs. That might be the best bet. You guys clear the rest of this level.”
Three minutes later, Fleming was back, just as McCain and Estrada finished clearing the upper level.
“Downstairs is perfect. Let’s drag him down there and set it up.”
Smith and McCain grabbed Kahn’s legs, while Estrada and Fleming each grabbed an arm, carrying the corpse down the two flights of stairs to the family room. A coffee table sat in front of a leather couch, a seventy-two inch television hanging on the wall in front of it. They sat Musa on the couch, blood continuing to leak from his multiple gunshot wounds.
“Alpha Four to Alpha One, I backed up next to the house, if you guys want to help me unload.”
“Alpha One clear. We’re on the way.”
A few minutes later, Chuck and Scotty gently carried in the large cardboard box. Hollywood handed Andy a backpack, and Jimmy carefully set the smaller box on the table. As a Marine special operator, Fleming had the most experience with explosives. One of the suicide vests that had been recovered in Philadelphia had gone to the CIA for analysis. At McCain’s request, Kevin had let them have it for this mission.
The black cloth garment was packed with C-4 explosives, ball bearings and nails, created to kill innocent people in American cities. Andy knew the clock was ticking but refused to rush what he was doing, laying the vest out on the coffee table in front of the body. The Science and Technology team for the Agency had removed the detonator for the bomb, but Fleming wasn’t taking any chances.
Jones and Estrada went back through the house a last time, searching for any evidence they could use to shut down the rest of Khan’s terror network, as well as picking whatever spent brass they could find from the shootout. Scotty withdrew six wine bottles from Andy’s backpack. They were filled with a mixture of gasoline and powder soap to create a napalm like mixture. Smith unscrewed the tops of the Molotov cocktails, sat them on the coffee table, adding a makeshift cloth fuse to each one.
Scotty had one more task to perform. He withdrew a plastic bag from his side cargo pocket and pulled out a long stick. He swiped the end with t
he cotton swab inside the dead terrorist’s mouth and resealed it in the bag. The former Ranger then withdrew his cell phone, snapping two photos of the dead man’s face, before nodding at Chuck.
McCain and Fleming grabbed Musa’s corpse by the shoulders, laying him forward onto the explosive vest on the table. Andy held up a detonator.
“Five minutes?”
“Sounds good,” Chuck nodded. “Let’s get out of here”
“Alpha One to support team, we’re outbound. Any 911 traffic?”
“Alpha Seven, negative. All quiet. No report of gunshots. See you in a few.”
Outside, the team had hurriedly removed their body armor, helmets, and balaclavas, stuffing them in the in the back of the jeep with their MP5. They kept their windows down as they left the area, not wanting to miss the show. A mile away, they heard a boom from behind them. By the time they had gone another mile, they could see the beginnings of the fire that would completely destroy Syed Ahmad’s house. McCain called Joey Anderson, letting him know that his flight services would not be needed tonight.
“Too bad! I was looking forward to some excitement. See you guys next time,” the pilot told him as they disconnected.
Fire and police units were soon passing them, heading to the scene, sirens and flashing lights activated.
“Hey, Hollywood,” Chuck said, over his shoulder, “you feeling better now?”
“Oh, yeah. This doesn’t bring Josh back, but at least that scumbag will never hurt anyone else.”
The Cherokee and the Pacifica stopped in Elkridge, Maryland at a twenty-four hour diner. At 4:40 in the morning, they had an entire corner of the restaurant to themselves, quietly discussing the operation as they ate bacon, eggs, pancakes, and biscuits with gravy. Smith especially seemed to be enjoying his breakfast.
“Nothing makes me hungrier than taking out a bad guy,” he smiled and burped, pushing away his empty plate.
After eating, McCain dialed Clark’s number, expecting to wake his friend. To his surprise, Kevin had answered on the first ring.
“Are you guys OK?”
“Mission accomplished. You want to meet us somewhere? We’re heading out the office to pick up our cars.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you there.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CENTURY TACTICAL SOLUTIONS, LEESBURG, VIRGINIA, FRIDAY, 0810 HOURS
Kevin was waiting for them inside the conference room at Century Tactical sipping coffee with General Perkins. The colonel and the general were visibly relieved to see that no one had been injured and listened without interruption as Chuck summarized the operation. Smith handed Clark the plastic bag with Khan’s DNA and forwarded him the photos that he had snapped of the corpse. Estrada laid another plastic bag, this one containing a cell phone, on the table and slid it across to Clark.
“That was in his bedroom. Maybe it’s got some intel on it.”
“I’ll have the tech wizards go through it,” Kevin said, looking around the table, making eye contact with each of the warriors. “Great work. You guys just took out one of the most dangerous people on the planet. I’m thankful and the president is going to be grateful, as well. Director Purvis and I’ll be meeting with him later this morning.”
Clark stood to go, shaking hands with each of his friends.
“Look for a nice deposit to drop into your accounts next week. You’ve earned it.”
After Kevin had started back towards D.C. and the team had departed for their homes to get some rest, McCain stuck around to speak with Perkins.
“When I had the idea to start a law enforcement and military training company, I had no idea that we would also be contracting for the CIA,” the older man mused, holding a fresh mug of steaming coffee.
The retired major general had been a Vietnam-era Green Beret, but had served in a variety of capacities as he had worked his way up through the ranks.
“And I was just looking for a place to put my skills to use in equipping other SWAT cops and soldiers,” McCain said, with a smile. “But, your buddy, the president, had other ideas. It’ll be interesting to see what happens after his term is up.”
“Very interesting, indeed. I trust that you, your lovely wife, and that handsome son of yours have a wonderful weekend. And, Chuck, that was a great operation. I’m not sure that there are many who could’ve pulled that together as quickly as you did and taken out that terrorist without anyone getting hurt.”
Chuck climbed wearily to his feet, the adrenaline having worn off, his body screaming for rest.
“Thank you, sir. And, I’m fortunate to work with some of the best operators in the world. I’ll see you bright and early Monday.”
RESTON, VIRGINIA, SUNDAY, 0745 HOURS
Chuck was looking forward to being in church, the last couple of months having been involved in shutting down Musa Khan’s terrorist network or traveling for work. He left Beth sleeping, with Ray snuggled up next to her. The toddler had started making noise at 0700 hours and the big man had brought him into bed with them so they could doze a little longer.
As he poured himself some coffee, he flipped on the television to see what was happening in the world.
FOX had just started a special report. An attractive, dark-haired reporter stood in front of the gutted remains of a house in Edgemere, Maryland. Figures moved through the scene behind her, carefully digging through the rubble.
“…are being told that the FBI and the ATF are investigating jointly. The fire appeared to have been caused by an explosion. Most of the homes in this area are vacation or weekend-getaways, but some of the residents who live out here year-round told the authorities that they heard an explosion at this location early Friday morning around 4:00am. The witnesses said that the flames spread quickly, completely destroying the home. A source with the local fire department has told me, under the condition of anonymity, that the remains of a body were discovered inside.”
The gray-haired, middle-aged studio anchor spoke up.
“Thanks for this report, Becky. Has that body been identified yet?”
“Well, Ted, that is where this gets very interesting. Another anonymous source, this one within the FBI, has told me that the DNA is a match for the wanted terrorist, Musa Khan. As you know, Khan was the mastermind for the deadly attacks in Washington, D.C. and Trenton, New Jersey, and was also allegedly funding and training terror groups in New York, Philadelphia, and Detroit, as well. He was recently elevated to number one on the FBI’s Most Wanted List. Their public information officer has told me that they have a press conference planned for later this morning in which I’m sure we’ll get more answers.”
Ted looked genuinely surprised in the FOX studio, missing his cue to jump in as Becky paused. The young woman continued, conscious of the fact that she was breaking the biggest story of her career.
“Of course, until the FBI conducts their press conference, none of this is confirmed, Ted, but there is more to this story that seems to confirm the fact that Musa Khan is dead. One of my sources let me know that there is evidence that Khan was constructing explosive devices inside the house that detonated, killing him and destroying the residence.”
By now, Ted had regained his composure and spoke up.
“That is quite a story, Becky. Do we know who owns the house?”
“Yes, we do. Thankfully, tax records are available online now and we don’t have to wait until Monday. This home is owned by the Syed Ahmad Realty Group. Syed Ahmad is well known in the Baltimore area for his real estate business and his wife is involved in a number of Islamic charities. We’ve called and emailed him, asking what Musa Khan was doing in a house that his company owns. At this point, he hasn’t responded to any of our messages. My guess is that he’s going to be answering questions from the FBI very soon, whether he wants to or not.”
“Great work, Becky. We all look forward to continuing updates on this breaking story,” Ted said, smiling into the camera. “In other news, former senator and presidential candidate Saleem Bas
hir has been subpoenaed to testify before a federal grand jury.”
A video of Saleem being served with his subpoena at the Westland Democratic Club played as Ted spoke.
“No charges have been filed yet, but the justice department has released a statement letting us know that Bashir could be indicted for his role in the recent terror attacks. While the evidence has not been made public yet, the justice department claims that Bashir has been collaborating with terrorist Musa Khan since before he ran for president. This will be a fascinating story to watch unfold.”
Chuck clicked the television off, nodding his head at the way everything had fallen into place.
“Was that you guys?” Elizabeth asked, surprising the big man. He had not heard her slide into the kitchen behind him.
“You’re turning into a ninja,” he laughed.
“You were pretty engrossed in that story.”
Beth knew that her husband couldn’t and wouldn’t talk about some of the side jobs that he performed for Kevin and the CIA. Part of her knew that he was very good at what he did and that the people he worked with were very good, also. At the same time, there was a nagging fear that she would lose him. She tried to keep that one locked away, knowing that if she thought about it too much it would drive her crazy.
“It’s not every day that the most wanted terrorist in the world blows himself up and a former presidential candidate is looking at prison time,” he commented, his expression neutral. “Want some coffee?”
“Sure,” Elizabeth answered flatly, not making eye-contact with her husband.
“You know I can’t talk about it,” he said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder and pulling her in close for a hug.
They held each other tightly for several minutes before she spoke up.
“I know. I just worry about you. I thought that this job with Century was going to be perfect, with you just teaching and consulting.”