|
If you can dream it, you can do it. --Walt Disney
|
||
|
Home |
Regal Wind
Coral Springs Nursing Home Coral Springs, Florida September 29, 4:28 p.m. He looked at their faces and knew Abdullah and Naajy would not follow him to witness what he must do now. He opened the door and stepped through. The hall had the smell of death. The peeling paint near the corners of the ceiling and the filthy floor tiles reminded him of how Christians just tossed away their elderly parents like so much garbage. He wondered if anyone would really care about what had been done here; if it would deliver the calculated response. Muslims cared deeply about their parents and gladly did their duty in caring for them when they grew old and feeble. After all, it was an obligation not only to them since they had cared for their children when their children were helpless, but it was a higher obligation to Allah to honor one’s parents. These infidels held no love for their parents much less Allah. He felt dirty living the western way of life, but there was no way around it. In the west everything centered on making the almighty dollar. Working or doing business was what every westerner’s life was about. Some went to church regularly, but that was just something they did once a week or so, like going to the movies or a sports event. It held no real meaning in their lives. Even family held little meaning to them. The love of money was the root of all evil and Americans loved nothing more. He walked into the dayroom and could smell the disinfectant. He held the pistol behind his back. The five survivors turned with a look of expectation on their faces. He looked to the side of the room at the bookshelves he’d had installed. It didn’t appear that one book had been moved, not even the Bible or the Qur’an he had purposefully left lying flat next to a bookend on the middle shelf. He could see the dust on them across the room twenty meters away. He smiled and looked from face to face. He saw their hope turn to sheer terror when he brought the gun up and aimed at the closest woman. He saw her file in his mind: Mary Cochran, 79, retired teacher, husband Matthew-deceased, three sons; David, Ronald & Stephen, one daughter; Josephine, previous state of residence–Oklahoma. No one moved as he brought the gun sight to bear on the bridge of her nose, holding the sight picture a long moment before squeezing the trigger. He knew no one would come to their aid; no one could raise an alarm. The other seventy-five residents of this nursing home lay in their beds dying or already dead. The testing had gone better than expected. Her body slumped forward across the table and blood began forming a pool where her head lay. His mind drew a red ‘X’ across her file. The shock of what had just happened held the other four to their seats. Caleb knew this effect would last but a moment longer. It was the typical response of anyone not trained in combat. The body just freezes while the mind shifts into overdrive to access the options for fight or flight. He estimated they would remain unmoving with that stupid look on their faces for the next four to seven seconds before their minds locked onto their best option… run-away! He took aim at the next closest woman: Louise Green, 83, homemaker, husband Fredrick-deceased, one son Fredrick, previous state of residence–Delaware. He fired. She fell sideways out of her seat and his mind drew a red ‘X’ across her file. The remaining three screamed and bolted for the door. He grinned and let them run right past him. He turned and waited until the last man reached the door. He aimed and shot: Thomas Farmer, 89, truck-driver, wife Faye-deceased, three sons; Thomas, Frank & William, previous state of residence–North Carolina, was struck right between the shoulder blades. The body thumped on the hall wall and crumpled to the floor. He ‘X’ed his file. He calmly walked to the hall and saw the remaining two running as best they could with the man helping the woman. He fired and Jerome Brooks, 91, welder, wife Theresa, no children, previous state of residence–Georgia, fell forward knocking the woman off her feet. She scrambled to the man, checked him and began sobbing. Caleb waited while she tried to get back up but she couldn’t seem to get her feet under her properly. She looked back at Caleb. He smiled at her. She finally got to her feet, ran down the hall a little farther and turned into a room. Caleb walked to the room and found her trembling, curled up with her knees at her chin, wedged in the corner between the wall and toilet. He knelt in front of her and pushed the gun into her midsection. He grabbed her thin gray hair with his other hand and tried to force her head up to look at him but the hair tore from her head. He threw it aside and forced his hand under her chin to bring her head up. “Open your eyes! Look at me!” She opened her eyes slowly and then spat in his face. “Allah demands payment for your sins.” He pulled the trigger and Theresa Brooks, 89, waitress, husband Jerome, his mind appended the word ‘deceased’ next to her husband’s name, previous state of residence–Georgia received a red “X”. Back in the lobby Naajy was leaning on the counter talking with Abdullah. Caleb had the lobby cleared of everything when he bought the facility, clearing all the dilapidated old furniture and wall hangings in order to do a much needed cleaning and painting, but the real reason was to make the lobby as uncomfortable as possible to discourage frequent or lingering visitors. There were no seats, magazines or even pictures on the walls. The only feature was a counter that divided the room in half and a door on either side of the counter, both opening into the central hallway. Naajy turned to Caleb and grinned. “You are just in time for afternoon prayers.” Caleb had no particular liking for Naajy; he considered him a spineless dog incapable of the courage it took to act on his proclaimed convictions. When asked to team up with Hussein he had refused. Caleb frowned, turned from Naajy and walked to the counter. “How is Hussein?” Abdullah had been a medical student in Iraq before the Americans invaded. His wife of two months had tried to flee the city and was shot by the Americans when she kept running in panic. She was running away, no threat to anyone. Caleb knew he harbored a visceral hate for the Americans and had personally chosen him to oversee the nursing home operation. Tomorrow he would make an anonymous call to the authorities about the nursing home and this part of the plan would be complete. Abdullah said, “He hasn’t even got a runny nose yet. I expect the fever will start tomorrow.” Hussein had worked as a dockworker at the Port Everglades cruise terminal for two years to establish himself as just a regular dockworker and to become intimately familiar with the facility. He had volunteered to be infected with the pneumonic form of plague, the most contagious and most deadly form of plague, in order to infect as many Americans as he could. All he had to do when he became contagious was to cough or sneeze around as many people as he could, but he wouldn’t be contagious until he started running a fever. Pneumonic plague was virtually always fatal if not treated within the first twenty-four hours according to the American Center for Disease Control. Caleb knew the truth was that after just fifteen hours one could count on death or coma in more than ninety percent of the cases. And it was very contagious; anyone within ten feet of a cough or sneeze became infected ninety-nine percent of the time. Abdullah joined Caleb and Naajy for the ritual afternoon prayers. They turned to face east and said in unison, “Allahu Akbar,” (God is most great.) and began reciting the first chapter of the Qur'an. They stood when they were finished and Abdullah returned to his place behind the counter. Caleb relished the pretense of offering Naajy another chance to work with Hussein knowing he’d never take it. “Naajy, Allah will bless the martyrs greatly. Will you reconsider joining Hussein?” Naajy’s eyes widened, then he bowed his head. “I… I… I feel I will serve Allah better somewhere else.” Naajy raised his head and saw Caleb pointing the pistol at him. His mouth tried to form words but couldn’t. Caleb said, “Allah will bless the martyrs greatly,” and pulled the trigger. * * * The drive back to the beach rental house in Ft. Lauderdale took less than an hour. This house was chosen since appearing absolutely normal was a prerequisite for this mission and it was common for vacationing Canadian citizens to rent these single story, nineteen-fifty’s vintage homes during the fall and winter months. Since Caleb and his team were officially Canadian citizens, no one would think twice about them being here on holiday. His team, one of very many teams, consisted of himself and his three brothers: Omar, Azzem and Yannin. Their mission would begin tomorrow and this mission was a significant part of the overall plan: it was designed to be the final blow. He knew the overall operation was very big. He even knew about most of the individual operations since he’d been involved in most of the planning. Everything had to be coordinated with precision and any information leaks could jeopardize everything so each team only knew enough to carry out their own small part of the overall plan. Every team had critical parts in their operations that could expose portions of the overall plan, but no single operation could expose any of the others. In order to minimize the risk of exposure each team had been working over the last three years to carry out their part of the plan. Properly detailed maintenance vans were used to place incendiary bombs in just about every electrical sub-station east of the Mississippi river. All the bombs were designed to appear as if they were a normal part of the transformers with timers all set to detonate at the same time. The result would take years to repair and critically strain food supply, especially items that needed to be refrigerated. The same kind of thing had been done with all commercial broadcast radio towers. Broadcast radio and television would be out for quite a while. If anyone looked at the bomb manufacturing plant all they would see is an environmentally friendly facility recasting outdated aluminum items into more up-to-date items after having first ground the old parts into aluminum powder which was the primary ingredient for the bombs. The cruise ship operation, a complicated undertaking that would culminate with the explosion of a large dirty-bomb over Washington DC or New York City was Caleb’s team’s mission. Everything hinged on getting weapons onboard the cruise ship so they could hijack the ship and drift up the Gulf Stream while authorities negotiated for the hostages. Depending on how far north the most active weather front was at that time they would stop near the Chesapeake Bay or Hudson Bay and detonate a device designed to deliver ten thousand kilos of radioactive dust high into the weather front. The prevailing westerly winds would sweep the dust inland so that it would rain down over America’s political or financial centers. This final blow and the resulting catastrophe would be more than enough the collapse the economy and cripple the Great Satan America. After that, Israel could easily be worn down and eradicated without the Great Satan’s support. Before this operation culminated, other teams would create mass fear and panic in such a way as to drive the population from the southeastern states toward the northeastern states where the dirty bomb would explode. The massive influx of refugees would encumber government finances and strain infrastructure to the breaking point. He looked around the room and his gaze stopped on the Peter Max print; a brightly colored Statue of Liberty hanging on the wall over the closer of the two couches. A palmetto bug, the Floridian version of the large flying cockroach sat motionless on top of the frame. The entire complicated strategy would begin tomorrow. All he could do now was wait. Caleb looked at his three brothers, each in turn, seeing the anticipation in their faces. He whispered in Farsi, the Iranian national language, “Tomorrow morning as planned.” His brothers grinned, nodded and began setting up the video camera to record their martyr speeches. He nodded back and remembered how an American bomb had killed his father at the hospital. Collateral damage they claimed. He shook his head. America, you are so arrogant. Allah is nothing to you. We will succeed for Allah is great! You will pay for your sins in blood! He knew well that the American god was the almighty dollar. Everything they did, everything they thought, everything they prayed for in their hearts took second place to money. And now they were trying to force Muslims everywhere to worship their god. Democracy! Peh! Democracy can only exist in a capitalist society and capitalism is the worship of money. Kill us all if you can, but Islam will never turn from Allah! We will fight until every last drop of our blood has been spilled and still strike at you from the grave. He quoted from the Qur’an, “I have been ordered to fight with the people till they say, none has the right to be worshipped but Allah.”
Port Everglades Fort Lauderdale, Florida September 30, 10:37 a.m. Jeanne Wilcox liked wearing old jeans; they were comfortable and let her move with ease. The short sleeve tan blouse looked good with the jeans, plus it was light enough to let her stay relatively cool since it still felt very much like summertime in southern Florida. She still wondered if this ‘mother-daughter’ vacation was going to be anything more than a waste of time. It was too late to back out now since they were walking up concrete switchback ramp leading to the US Customs screening area. She looked back at the people following them up the ramp—no apparent threats. The ramp wasn’t steep, but it was wide, and it was designed to funnel thousands of people through the security check point of pre-boarding. She noted that the low concrete walls would be easy to vault over should the need arise. Cabs, vans and an occasional limousine dropped passengers off at the bottom of the ramp where porters were collecting luggage and stacking it onto large carts. Buses unloaded passengers in the nearby parking lot where vacationers that had elected to drive into the port parked their vehicles. This area would be a nightmare to defend in any kind of confrontation. Jeanne noticed her mother Bonnie’s practical white cotton blouse and black slacks didn’t disguise her authoritative body language, which made her a prime first strike target. “Is there any reason you’re still in ‘police mode’? This is a vacation isn’t it?” She said, “Oh, it’s a vacation all right.” She looked around and then smiled at Jeanne. “This is just the part that they don’t tell you about in the brochures. Wait until we get onboard. That’s where the vacation begins and that’s when I’ll relax.” “Did your first cruise start like this?” “Yeah, pretty much. Your dad and I went out of Tampa. Believe it or not, that was our first real date, and our honeymoon. But you know your dad, on-call all the time. He was lucky the first five days we were out, no calls. It was a seven-day cruise. Sometimes I feel like his second wife, and he stays with the first one, his job, more. I imagine he feels the same way about me. Anyway, the cruise was wonderful. You’ll forget about all this once you’re onboard the ship.” She gestured to the port area. Jeanne hadn’t had many bonding moments with her mother, the police lieutenant, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about this one. Between school and her mother’s career, there hadn’t been many times they could have been together without being involved with something else. Somewhere in her mind she knew her parents must have dated, but she had never really thought about it. Her parents went on a cruise every year, but she’d never thought of those as dates. “Where’s Dad? He said he’d meet us here.” “As far as I know, he’s never broken a promise yet. He’ll be here.” And that was true. Dean wouldn’t ever make a promise he didn’t feel he could keep, even if it meant breaking the rules. When the intelligence information on the latest round of terrorist threats put the southern United States on elevated alert, he knew he would be assigned to do surveillance work. He asked to be assigned to Port Everglades where his wife and daughter would be embarking on their cruise. His commanding officer, Col. Barnes granted his request so he’d be able to see them off. The elevated alert was for the southeastern United States, the area of the country his group was in charge of protecting. The information they had, though not specific as to target, was creditable enough to warrant a full-scale active search to determine the intended target. Any place identified as a possible target was to be locked down until it was evaluated and shown not to be a target. His job at Port Everglades was to make that determination. Jeanne asked, “How long does it take to go through Customs and get on the ship?” As soon as she asked the question she wondered if she’d be able to relax at all, even on the ship. Being in a crowd was something she didn’t like. Her training had taught her that crowds made escape difficult should the need arise. And then there were all the possible threats, like the man just ahead to the left; she could see a vein in his temple pulsing at about ninety beats per minute, too fast for just being out of shape. He was concealing something too, in his waistband, too large to be a handgun, probability a bottle of booze. There was also the heavyset woman just ahead of him. The way she held her handbag was a sure sign she was hiding something too. And the four Middle Eastern types just coming up the ramp behind them were trying just a little too hard to look casual, but they weren’t talking to each other. What were they so nervous about? Bonnie shrugged. “It all depends. The actual process usually takes between five and fifteen minutes. Waiting in line to get in is what takes so long. There’re only about two hundred people in front of us. There’ll be at least twenty times that many behind us soon. It won’t take long to get through since we’re at the front of the line.” Jeanne tilted her head and frowned. “It seems like they’d come up with a better system.” “It’s really not that bad. What’s shocking is when you get off the ship. You’ll have been pampered so much on the cruise, when you get off the ship you’ll think everyone on shore is just plain grouchy and rude. It’s funny, but when you think about it, everyone is treating you the same way they always have. I feel the same way every year. I feel like I’ve gone from being royalty to being a dirt poor peasant.” Jeanne tried to get her mind off getting out of the crowd. “You and dad have been on a cruise every year since you’ve been married?” “You bet ‘cha. I’ve done theme parks, camping, sightseeing, beaches and all the normal stuff. Nothing comes close to taking a cruise. Ah, if life could just be one vast, never-ending cruise.” Jeanne said, “Nah, you couldn’t take it. You’ve always got to be in the thick of things.” “Yeah, but it’s nice to dream about it. Not the first care in the world. All the food you care to eat, shows, games, pools, quiet spots and best of all, you’re out of cell phone range.” Jeanne knew that wasn’t true, almost all merchant ships had started installing satellite systems for both Internet and cell phone use. This cruise ship was an exception to that. She grinned, “No high speed chases, no catching the bad guy dead to rights, no investigations. When you retire they’re going to have to pry the badge and gun out of your hands.” Bonnie grinned back and held her hands out like she was comparing the heft of a couple of invisible objects on a balancing scale. “Let’s see, being cussed at everyday verses being pampered like a queen; wading through political bull verses not having a care in the world; having to eat whenever you think you can steal a minute or having a huge buffet whenever you want…” Jeanne chuckled and turned to look at the increasing crowd behind them. “Okay, to change the subject, where is dad? He should’ve been here by now.” Bonnie looked around. “I think that’s him coming now.” She pointed toward the back of the line. Jeanne saw a man in a dark suit toward the start of the ramp talking on a cell phone and scanning the crowd. The cell phone in Bonnie’s purse rang. She dug deep and pulled it out. “We’re near the front of the line, sweetheart…” After a moment Bonnie said, “You have got to be kidding!” She turned her back to Jeanne and walked to the concrete barrier that separated the sections of the ramp. “But you approved my leave time over a year ago…” She turned back to face Jeanne and seemed a little surprised on seeing that Jeanne had followed her. “Sir, I’ve already got fifteen hundred non-refundable dollars invested in this trip. You have the authority to grant exceptions...” She turned away from Jeanne again, shrugged, turned back and pointed at the phone. “You’ve got to be kidding! I’ve jumped through hoops and bent over backwards in order to be able to take this trip with my daughter. Tell me this isn’t happening; say it isn’t so. There are fifteen gazillion cops in Baltimore; my being gone isn’t going to make one bit of difference…” Jeanne knew her mother had to be talking to Capt. Thomas. No one else on Earth could make her that mad. Her mom had once described him as a one winged bee flying in circles trying to sting anything he could. It didn’t help that her mom was a go-getter and Capt. Thomas had not once in his career received so much as a letter of commendation. “Well... you’re just going to have to fire me. I’m not coming in. You’re just going to have to wait ‘til I get back. I’ll be onboard the ship in fifteen minutes. If you want me before I get back you’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming all the way back through customs…” Jeanne observed that her mother was starting to consciously control her breathing which meant she had decided exactly what she was going to do. Bonnie held the phone down between her knees seemingly squeezing the life out of it and then put it back to her ear. With a forced air of calmness she said, “I’m in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. That’s not physically possible... sir…” “Yes sir...” She slammed the phone shut, stared at it a moment before reopening it. She stabbed the numbers with her index finger. A moment later she took a deep breath and said, “Hello, Major Hall?” “Sir, this is Lt. Wilcox. I have a bit of a problem with the call back...” Jeanne saw he mother’s body language relax just a bit and found it hard not to laugh when her mother cocked her head and rolled her eyes up to the sky. “Sir, Capt. Thomas just called me and told me of the call back. Currently, I’m standing in line at US Customs in Fort Lauderdale waiting to board a cruise ship with my daughter. The fare is non-refundable. I’ve had this leave time approved for over a year now...” “Maybe, sir. I blew up after I explained my situation and he refused to grant an exemption...” “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir...” Bonnie slammed the phone shut, clinched her fists, grimaced and began spitting out the numbers from one to ten in short, staccato bursts. She hoped Major Hall could persuade him to reconsider. She and Capt. Thomas had not gotten along ever since she was a rookie street cop and he was a platoon sergeant. Jeanne remembered her mother telling the story, more than once. The story started with a traffic stop of a young diplomat. Her mother, Off. Allen at the time, didn’t believe the driver had diplomatic immunity since he couldn’t produce any credentials and his car didn’t have diplomatic plates. About a half-an-hour later she had him handcuffed in the back of her police car and the wrecker was just loading up his car when then Sgt. Thomas came to a screeching halt behind her. He was a little bent out of shape after being chewed out by his lieutenant who had been chewed out by his captain and so on all the way up to the chief. Stuff rolls down hill in such cases all the while picking up momentum and crashes on the lowest level, which happened to be her in this case. Sgt. Thomas wasn’t the least bit concerned that she had clocked the guy on radar doing one hundred and six mph in a thirty-five mph zone. Diplomat Wilcox was released and allowed to continue on his way. Sgt. Thomas wrote up a formal reprimand on then Off. Allen. Three days later, Off. Allen found a rose on the windshield of her patrol car with a note from Diplomat Dean Wilcox. It read, I at least owe you an explanation. How about a cup of coffee at the convenience store at Wiltshire and Fifth when you finish your shift. Technically, that was really their first date. Bonnie punched the numbers and the phone began to ring. She counted the rings out loud, five... six... seven... eight… ni— “Captain, this is Lt. Wilcox.” Jeanne noticed she could hear the voice on the phone. She looked around and saw that everyone nearby was looking at her mother. The voice on the phone said, “What is it lieutenant? I’m a little busy right now.” “Sir, I just wanted to apologize for blowing my top when you called.” “Okay, lieutenant. You can go on your little cruise, but when you get back you’ll be facing an insubordination charge, and I’m going to do everything in my power to see to it that you’re busted back to sergeant.” “Yes, sir. Thank you sir.” The people close enough to hear shook their heads. Someone behind Jeanne said, “At least you get to go on the cruise.” Jeanne turned to see who had spoken when her father, Commander Ronald “Dean” Wilcox, walked up behind her mom. “What are you so annoyed about, kitten? No, don’t tell me, Capt. Thomas, right?” He put his arms around her and squeezed lightly. Bonnie made a rude comment, in German, comparing Capt. Thomas to a body part. “I can see that he’s gotten under your skin again.” He held his arm out to Jeanne. She leaned in and he hugged her too. “Emergency call back. Can you believe it? He called me for emergency call back. He knew we were taking this cruise. It’s been on the books for over a year. He saw his chance and jumped on it. I lost it. Oh, did I lose it. I called him back and apologized though, and he granted an exemption, but he’s bringing me up on charges of insubordination. He just never lets up.” Dean rocked her back and forth. “Calm down. You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself. If you let him upset you, well, then he’s already won. Just start thinking about what you’d like to do to him when you get back. That helps me, and it keeps people wondering what I’m always smiling about.” Bonnie looked at her husband and forced a smile. He gave her a final squeeze and let her go. He looked at Jeanne. “You excited about your first cruise?” “Not really. This place is depressing. It’s like what I imagine a third world version of a theme park to be like.” He looked around at the growing crowd before looking back at his daughter. “I see what you mean. That’s the port authority for you. It’s much better onboard.” The line started moving forward. Bonnie gave Dean another hug and a quick kiss. “You be careful. See you in a week.” Dean’s cell phone rang. He hugged his daughter and said, “You guys have a great time,” before stepping away to answer it. The line went quickly through the double glass doors. The woman at the entrance was dressed in a black uniform skirt and a white starched blouse. The uniform patch on her shoulder had the official US Customs seal and her nametag read ‘Debbie’. Jeanne and Bonnie stopped while the group in front of them passed through the metal detector. Debbie said to them, “Passengers with no carry-ons to the left. Passengers with carry-ons to the right.” She also pointed to a sign that gave the same instructions. The heavyset woman that had been clutching her bag looked rather nervous when she sat the bag on the conveyor that would pass it through the x-ray machine. Jeanne noticed the man with the bulge under shirt make it thru the metal detector without setting it off. After the bag came out of the x-ray machine the heavyset woman was escorted to a nearby table and asked to empty her purse. The line to the right was much longer than the passport line. Jeanne and Bonnie walked through the metal detector, and Debbie made her short speech to them. They walked up to the counter and handed the agent their passports. The agent examined the passports and boarding documents, looked at their faces, handed each their papers back and said, “Up the gangplank over there.” He nodded toward their left and said, “Next.” Jeanne said, “That was easy.” “I’ve never had any problem.” A set of stairs led to the gangplank. At the top of the gang plank a ship’s security officer, Winooski – Poland on her nametag, took their boarding papers, one at a time, handed it to another officer behind a counter, and pointed to a lens that was inset into a waist high, angled desk top. “Look here please.” After a shutter click, one for each, the officer handed each a plastic key card. “Welcome aboard The Great Ship Regal Wind. We hope you have an absolutely delicious time.” Bonnie said, “Thank you.” Jeanne noticed the man with the bulge standing next to a small table at the ship’s security check point with his arms spread like wings. A pint of rum was on the table in front of him and another ship’s security officer was checking him with a metal detector wand. They walked through the short passage and emerged in the ship’s atrium. Polished brass gleamed on every surface. It seemed almost a crime to walk on the ornate carpet. Lustrous brass rails topped the glass knee-walls circling the three mezzanines levels overhead. Two glass elevators coursed up and down amid twin elegant stairs which arced up to the three decks above. Glass topped brass tables and posh chairs adorned the corners and quiet spots around this level. Jeanne didn’t think she would be surprised to hear a trumpet sounding announcing the entrance of some royal figure. She looked around. People were lining up at the purser’s desk like they do inside a bank waiting for a teller to say, “Next.” It reminded her of the bank robbery she was involved in last year. She found herself replaying those events in her mind again; knowing should something like that ever happen again she’d respond instantly instead of waiting. She had had to use the inside teller at the bank because she wasn’t old enough to drive at the time. It didn’t matter that she was a senior at Johns Hopkins University; she couldn’t get her driver’s license until the following year when she was sixteen. It wasn’t really fair being a kid in an adult’s world, but then again, few things were fair. She had learned one vital lesson last year at that bank though. It was a lesson that would shape her thinking for the rest of her life. After the robbery she had decided, regardless of anything else, her own decisions and actions were what mattered. Everything else was irrelevant. Three men had entered the bank, donned masks and drew firearms. The guard yelled, “Robbery!” One of the men shot the guard dead center in his forehead. That act let everyone know this was real. Jeanne wasn’t proud of the fact, but those men scared the bajeebas out of her. After the fact, her dad told her he would have been scared too. She didn’t believe him. She knew more about what he did than she was supposed to know, and she knew if he were there the bad guys wouldn’t have gotten as far as they did. During the robbery Jeanne had remembered something her mother had told her years before. Her mother had gotten into the habit of offering training tips over dinner when Jeanne was home during weekends. In any kind of armed robbery the odds were there was at least one inside person in the crowd as backup. The best thing to do if you were caught in a robbery was to do exactly what the bad guys said, and try to remember everything you could. The last thing you want to do was to start anyone shooting. If the robbers weren’t incredibly stupid, they’d be gone in under six minutes, long before the police arrive. The worst thing would be for it to develop into a hostage situation. Unfortunately a uniformed officer arrived on the scene in about three minutes. The robbery turned into a hostage situation. Everything almost seemed a blur except for her decision to act when the lead gunman was putting the gun to her temple. Six people had already been executed, one every fifteen minutes. She remembered how he stank just before she snapped his neck. She never got close enough, long enough to smell the other gunmen. Systema, the Russian form of martial arts, though not elegant, was quick, efficient, and the most deadly of the martial arts. She knew if she had acted sooner, six innocent people wouldn’t be dead. That fact would always haunt her. She’d never let anything like that happen again if she could stop it. “Jeanne, are you all right?” Bonnie put her hand on Jeanne’s shoulder. Jeanne turned and smiled at her mother. A man in a tuxedo was standing beside them with a large tray of drinks. When Jeanne looked at him he said, “Champagne in the tall glasses, sparkling cider in the short ones.” Bonnie had a short glass in her hand. “No, thank you.” He nodded and moved to another group. She looked at her mother and saw a marked difference. He mother was no longer in ‘police mode’: her shoulders were relaxed and she had a causal air about her. She said, “It’s a bit more than I expected,” and continued to look around. Bonnie took a sip from her glass. “Two cruises; that’s how long it took me to get used to it. I can tell you from experience that the best thing we can do right now is to find our stateroom, get the ship’s newsletter, and head to the buffet so we can figure out what we want to do, and when. The elevators are over there.” She pointed toward the aft end of the ship. Beyond the atrium were four polished brass elevator doors. They started making their way toward them. “It doesn’t seem right for dad not to be here.” “You’re right, but next year, wait ‘til next year. Around the world on cruise ships. Imagine that, three-hundred sixty days with the three of us in the lap of luxury. Your dad will be retired, I’ll take a leave of absence, and you’ll have finished your master’s degree. It’s going to be wonderful. This is just a hors d’oeuvre.” “I still wish dad could be here this time.” Bonnie pushed the up button for the elevator. “Me too, but you know how his job is. Every single cruise that we have ever been on, he’s never got to finish.” “Even your honeymoon?” “Yep. A Marine helicopter landed on the deck at the end of day five and off he went.” “That’s got to make you mad.” “I guess it should, but it doesn’t. I knew what I was getting when I married him. He knew what he was getting, too. The good thing is that we never grow tired of each other like so many couples do. We savor every moment like it could be our last, because there is a very real chance that it could be.” “It’ll be good when dad retires.” A muffled ‘ding’ signaled the opening of the elevator doors.
Port Everglades Fort Lauderdale, Florida September 30, 11:03 a.m.
Dean watched his wife and daughter walk up to the doors into Customs. He loved his wife more than he could ever find words to tell her. She was a special catch, not like any of the other women he had ever known. She was pragmatic and not given to whimsical flights of fancy. Her mind was logical and straightforward and she had no problem telling anyone exactly what she thought in terms that even a dunderhead could understand. That was the cause of most of her problems with Capt. Thomas, but that wasn’t a real problem since she took great pleasure in antagonizing him when any opportunity presented itself. He didn’t know his daughter as well as he would like. The combination of his work and her schooling had kept them apart for most of her life. What he did know of her stemmed mostly from the quarterly reports he had received and he was sorry that he would never be able to discuss how exceptional Jeanne was with her mother; Bonnie didn’t have a security clearance. He was oh so very proud of Jeanne, but he’d never found the opportunity to tell her. He wanted to, but there had always been other ears around. Retiring next year would be a good thing. He’d finally be able to fall asleep with his wife in his arms on a regular basis and make the chance to tell Jeanne how proud he was of her. Dean watched Bonnie and Jeanne walk through the doors into Customs and gave a final wave even though they hadn’t looked back at him. He wished he could be going on this cruise with them. Cruising wasn’t something he enjoyed for the vacation. To him it was the one time he could count on spending more than just a few hours with his wife. He frowned and glanced back to where the porters were collecting baggage. He needed to get back to work. The red bag of coffee beans near the top of the pallet of food items caught his attention. A forklift was coming through the passenger area and that was a bit unusual. Forklifts usually stayed in the warehouse area or on the dock to load and offload ships. Anything remotely suspicious during this alert needed to be investigated, especially where large numbers of people were gathered. It wasn’t likely, but it was possible this guy was trying to avoid a security check of his cargo. He’d been watching four Middle Eastern types in line waiting to pass through customs for the last fifteen minutes. They looked solemn, almost sullen, and had not spoken at all to each other or anyone else in that time. That was extremely unusual for passengers getting ready to embark on a cruise. The four watched the forklift pass and he thought he saw one of them almost smile. He opened his cell phone and dialed. “Betty, Commander Wilcox here. I’ve got four Middle-Eastern types at Port Everglades getting ready to board the cruise ship Regal Wind. Is this picture good enough for you to run them? I don’t want to get any closer and spook them if they’re bad guys, or insult them if they’re not.” Betty said, “It looks good enough.” “Good. Call me back when you’re done.” He closed the cell phone, turned and started walking the way the forklift had gone. A quarter mile later he reached the end of the building, turned left and started toward the dock. On the dock were several long rows of pallets; each pallet was wrapped in several layers of plastic to keep the contents secured to it. Down the dock, yellow and black forklifts buzzed here and there moving a vast number of pallets, stacking them in place to be loaded onto the several ships that were moored there. Commander Wilcox started walking between the pallets looking for the red coffee bag on the top corner of one of the pallets. After a few minutes, an olive skinned man wearing a black ball cap and a black dockworker uniform walked up in front of him between the pallets. “What are you doing back here?” Commander Wilcox opened his wallet, pulled out his I.D. card and showed it to the man. “Department of Homeland Security. Did you see a forklift coming from that area carrying a pallet?” He kept his eyes on the man and pointed behind himself. “Yes. Sometimes they have to come around when they can’t get through the warehouse.” Another olive skinned man wearing a black ball cap and dock uniform walked between the pallets behind Commander Wilcox. Commander Wilcox said, “Did you see where it went?” “Yes. Three ships down, the Regal Wind.” The second guy pulled a long military type knife from his boot without missing a stride. Commander Wilcox’s cell phone rang. “Commander, this is Betty. The guys are not known to be in any active group.” “Thank you, Betty.” He closed the phone. The second dockworker pushed the knife into the lower right quadrant of Commander Wilcox’s back, a standard special forces quick kill technique. In this maneuver, the blade pierces the kidney causing the body to go into immediate shock. Some muscles lock in place while others become completely lax, and the target becomes quite incapable of screaming. Seconds later, death is assured when the punctured kidney fills the abdominal cavity with toxins which quickly enter the blood stream. For Commander Wilcox, the pain was immediate and paralyzing, just as it was supposed to be. He tried to turn, but his muscles wouldn’t respond. He felt his bowels let loose and his knees crumple. Looking up from the concrete dock he could see his assailant. He seemed almost dream like, close and remote at the same time. Somebody else far away said, “Allah is Great. Death to the Great Satan America.” That was the last Commander Wilcox heard. The first dockworker tossed a videocassette down beside the body.
|
|