Broken Borders, page 22
Bobby and Bo had quietly rappelled down the front of the house, and each stood against the wall, leaning back, bodies parallel to the ground.
The leader said, “On my count, three-two . . .”
Bo and Bobby pushed hard with their feet, went out, and crashed feet-first through their respective windows as flash-bang grenades went off all through the house. They hit the floor and dropped their ropes and raised their weapons. Bobby had switched to his Glock 17. Bo wielded one, too.
A large body entered the room, and Bo recognized it as the giant form of Ramiro Maureo. She pictured him putting his hands all over her breast, as she quickly squeezed off two quick shots, both hitting him dead center in the forehead.
The entire house was a cacophony of gunfire and loud yells of “Room clear!” and as quickly as it started, the gunfire ended.
Just prior to the breach, the electricity had been turned off to the house, but now, at the bearded Delta team leader’s command, it was turned on, and he told all the members to remove their night-vision devices.
Now, each body was checked and the entire ranch house was searched, while numerous police cars approached from the outside. The Chinook returned and was overhead, as well as two law enforcement helicopters. When the team leader gave the all-clear, General Perry in the Chinook and the other officers in cruisers came into the compound, the first moving the bus out of the way.
Bo looked down at the massive body of Ramiro Maureo, and Bobby walked up.
He said, “We didn’t even have a chance to talk. Did he rape you while he held you?”
Bo said, “He tore my blouse off and fondled me, but no man will ever rape me, not ever!”
Bobby smiled at her, and said, “Good for you, partner. Keep that attitude.”
The general came up and shook hands with both of them, and Bo said, “No nukes and only gang-bangers here, sir, and a few supporters of Rabbe, not Arabs.”
The general said, “I already heard. We are scrambling to gather up what we have from sat of every vehicle that left the parking garage. They must have had one parked there, kidnapped somebody, or carjacked one.”
Just then he got a call from the command post.
He spoke and said, “Thanks. Get a plate number and full description, and alert every cop between New York City, Miami, and here on every possible route to get there.”
Bobby said, “Sir, what’s up?’
“A man who parks in that garage was reported missing by his wife, and his body was just found east of here, executed, no robbery, just his car missing.”
Bo said, “General, they would have ditched the car and either carjacked two more, so they can split up and take the nukes to Miami and New York City, or more likely rented two cars, so they would not attract attention.”
General Perry took them to the command post and called the other leaders over to brief them. The FBI immediately alerted agents all over the country to check car rentals for either of the fake Mexican names the two al Qaeda terrorists were using.
He said to Bobby and Bo, “Hop on the Chinook.”
They took off for Briggs on the Chinook with the Delta Force team and Bobby and Bo on board. They took their parachutes with them, and started folding and repacking them on the short trip.
The President and secretary of homeland security were both called. The entire nation’s homeland security force was abuzz with activity, but all behind closed doors. Two transports for Bo and Bobby had already been called for, and the Delta Force team was taking the same C-18 cargo jet they came with.
General Perry already had two loaded B2 Spirits, the famous stealth bombers, sitting on the tarmac. They had flown in from their base in Missouri at Whiteman Air Force Base.
They set down near the jets and the crews were summoned. One would take Bo to Miami, and the other would take Bobby to New York City. Every available source around those two cities was on alert. Spotters were on alert at the Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty, and every major landmark they could think of. In Miami, law enforcement personnel were dispatched the same way. Rough photos were finally discovered of both men, in native Arab dress and as Mexican businessmen, and these were in the possession of spotters.
As the two stealth bombers taxied for takeoff, the word came in and was passed on to Bobby and Bo that the FBI had uncovered the rental of two different Cadillac Escalades, one silver, and one black, under the Mexican name of each man.
The U.S. Air Force says this about the B2 Spirit: “Northrop Grumman is the prime contractor for the U.S. Air Force B-2 Spirit stealth bomber. The B-2 is a low-observable, strategic, long-range, heavy bomber capable of penetrating sophisticated and dense air-defense shields. It is capable of all-altitude attack missions up to fifty thousand feet, with a range of more than six thousand nautical miles unrefueled and more than ten thousand nautical miles with one refueling, giving it the ability to fly to any point in the world within hours. Its distinctive profile comes from the unique ‘flying wing’ construction. The leading edges of the wings are angled at thirty-three degrees and the trailing edge has a double-W shape. It is manufactured at the Northrop Grumman facilities in Pico Rivera and Palmdale in California.
“Twenty-one B-2s have been delivered to Whiteman Air Force Base in Missouri, the first in December 1993. In the first three years of service, the operational B-2s achieved a sortie reliability rate of ninety percent. An assessment published by the USAF showed that two B-2s armed with precision weaponry can do the job of seventy-five conventional aircraft.”
The War on Terrorism was a showcase for the speed and efficiency of the Spirit, and now two of them were carrying out their most important mission: to prevent a nuclear attack on two of the largest American cities.
Bobby and Bo were halfway across the country when both got a conference call from General Perry. “Major Samuels, Captain Devore, a Department of Homeland Security investigator found the definitive plans of these terrorists in their apartment. They intend to go into the Empire State Building in New York City, carry a bomb halfway up, leave the bomb in a suitcase in a hallway, closet, or restroom, set the timer, and leave. Even if the police find it, they will send the bomb squad, and it will take more than the hour on the timer, so the bomb will still go off. They plan the same thing in Miami at the Four Seasons Hotel and Tower on Brickell Avenue. Except there, they will rent a hotel room and ask for the highest floor. They will be housed better than halfway up. Again, the coward will then leave and an hour later, the bomb explodes. They are supposed to coordinate and set the timers to detonate at the same time. If anything goes wrong, they both agreed to blow themselves up.”
Bobby said, “Sir, any knowledge of where they might be?”
“They rented one car in Memphis and the other in Nashville,” the general responded. “The other car was ditched a little beyond Memphis. It is believed they must have split up at Nashville and should be arriving around the time you two arrive. Hopefully, a little after you get there. The President said you are to have anything you want or need to stop these bastards.”
“Thank you, sir,” Bo said. “We will.”
“Roger that, General,” Bobby said from his jet.
“Good luck and God bless,” Jonathan Perry said.
12
DEATH OR DISHONOR
The jihadist looked up at the tall building rising up so many feet above him. He had called Tariq, and Tariq was then outside the New York City building with a perfect entrance planned. They would not even be able to detect him. Now Abdul would go down in history. He sat in the parking lot for a half an hour and watched the building and saw nobody. No cops, no army. He would rent his room, set the timer, and quickly leave and drive north out of Miami, and tens of thousands would die, probably millions. As simple as that. At the same time, Tariq had been carefully watching the Empire State Building, and was simply waiting for some attorneys to return he had seen earlier. He was going to enter with them, and knew he would blend in perfectly. He had even heard them say earlier to someone they would return soon.
In New York City, Tariq was well pleased. He knew they had outwitted the stupid infidels. There was no way that the Americans could unravel their trail and get there quickly enough to stop him or Abdul. Osama bin Laden’s longtime goal was about to be realized, the American Hiroshima. Two nuclear bombs were about to be exploded on American soil in two of its biggest cities at the same time in the middle of the afternoon. The terror would be extreme. The infidels would break. Someday soon the United States of America would be ruled by mullahs and freedom would be no more.
Abdul Qudoos had really worked on his Mexican accent, and was ready to employ it now for the most important mission of his life.
The desk clerk at the Four Seasons Hotel and Tower looked at the Mexican businessman with the large black suitcase and said, “Double or a single, sir?”
“Seengle, please, Señorita,” Abdul said.
He heard clapping, and whirled around to see Captain Bo Devore with a Glock 17 in her right hand. Nonetheless, she was applauding.
Bo now leveled the gun at him with a double-palm grip, saying, “Congratulations Abdul, that sounded exactly like an Arab trying to speak English with a Mexican accent. You are under arrest. If you even move one inch toward the suitcase, I will kill you.”
His hands went up, and the color drained from Abdul’s face. The clerk screamed.
Bo said, without looking at her, “Be quiet, now!”
The young lady stopped crying and started whimpering softly.
Bo said, “I am Captain Bo Devore, of the U.S. Army Criminal Investigation Detachment, Specops section, Department of the Army.”
Abdul licked his lips, and Bo knew he was going to try for it. Two Miami Police officers ran in the door, guns drawn, and saw Bo. They aimed at Abdul.
One said, “That him, ma’am?”
Bo said, “Meet Abdul Qudoos, major al Qaeda operative and soon-to-be martyr if he moves one inch toward that suitcase.”
The other cop said, “What is in the suitcase, Captain?”
Bo said calmly, “A nuclear bomb.”
The other cop said, “Holy shit!”
The clerk started to faint, but caught herself before she hit the floor.
Bo said, “Young lady, grab one of those complimentary bottles of water you have on your counter and pour it over your head. Quickly.”
The woman complied, and suddenly knew what was going on. Her entire body was shaking.
Bo said, “Officer closest to me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Without blocking my shooting lane,” Bo said, “move up along the side, my right side, and retrieve the bomb.”
Bo said to Abdul, “You have the right to remain silent.”
He thought about moving toward the suitcase, and just the thought made him move toward it ever so slightly, and Bo’s gun boomed twice. The first bullet hit him dead center between the eyes, and the second caught him above the left eyebrow. Blood and brain matter splattered all over the wall beyond the clerk, who started screaming bloody murder. She wet herself.
Abdul’s body fell face-first on the floor. Bo walked forward, pointing her Glock at the twitching body. She stepped on one wrist and reached down with one hand and felt for a pulse in the neck. The girl, now fascinated, stopped screaming.
Bo said, “Clear,” and she and the two officers holstered their weapons.
Bo looked back at the dead terrorist, saying sarcastically, “I see you want to exercise that right.”
One cop laughed, and the other was rubbery-legged.
Bo said to the clerk, “What is your name, honey?”
The clerk said very timidly, “Katherine Marie Jace.”
Bo said, “You are doing really well. I know this is all very scary, but it is about over. Now, I need you to do something for me. Set off the building’s fire alarm.”
Katherine Marie complied and started calming down, although seeing the gore of Abdul’s shattered skull made her somewhat sick to her stomach. Soon, the building started clearing out and fire engines could be heard.
Bo said, “Officer, call in immediately and tell them we need your chief, assistant chief, everybody down here right away. We have to evacuate a large area.”
“You got it, ma’am,” he replied, “By the way, nice shooting.”
Bo looked at the other officer, saying, “Can you take Katherine Marie away from here? Take her home if she lives several miles way. That will be safe.”
Katherine Marie said, “Thank you, Captain.”
Bo walked over and wrapped her arms around her, and she started bawling.
Bo pulled out her sat phone, but first said, “Katherine Marie, you did good and all we are doing is taking precautions. Now, if the news interviews you, you’re going to say there was a bomb threat and this crazy man tried to shoot this officer, and some lady cop shot him. If you mention the word nuclear bomb or anything else, we will have to discredit you and make you look goofy. You understand, don’t you?’
“Yes, ma’am,” Katherine Marie said. “You don’t want fifty old men in Miami having heart attacks.”
Bo said, “Perfect. I just have to evacuate for everybody’s safety until the army gets here to remove the bomb. They have been watching and listening the whole time, so the EOD, the Explosive Ordnance Demolition, people are already on the way.”
Katherine Marie said, “Ma’am, one little question.”
Bo said, “Yes?”
“Ma’am. I heard you say that guy was al Qaeda,” she said, “but he didn’t have a weapon. Can’t you get arrested for murder yourself?”
Bo said, “No, absolutely not. I warned him not to move an inch. If he dove toward the bomb and I missed, we would not be here talking. This building would not be here, or that building over there, or that building. He had a much bigger weapon than mine.”
Then Bo winked at Katherine Marie and said, “Remember, Katherine Marie, size doesn’t matter when it comes to weapons. It is how well you use what you have.”
The clerk started laughing and laughing, and the tears started rolling again as the chuckling officer escorted her away.
A fire chief ran in the door, passing hordes of building residents running out. The officers pointed at Bo, and she put her hand up as Bobby answered his sat phone.
Bobby said, “I heard you smoked him. Are you okay, partner?”
Bo said, “I am fine. I am taking the stealth up there. Get there as quickly as I can.”
Bobby said, “I hope this will all be over before you get here.”
Tariq Ubaadah had waited over an hour, and now the attorneys were on their way back, carrying all the evidence for their case in large briefcases, a suitcase, even file boxes. Even security looking for him would never notice him. He would slip right on an elevator with the attorneys and would blend in. The group entered the building and joining them, Tariq came in the front door of the Empire State Building, pulling the big suitcase on built-in wheels like several in the group of attorneys. One was even using a handcart to carry file boxes from the court case.
Tariq made one big mistake. No matter how many degrees he had or how much money, he was still simply one of those black silhouette figures you would see taken from F16, F15, A10, or maybe B2 Spirit jets right before our smart bombs wiped them out. Those black figures who thought infidels were stupid, and they were superior. Who thought they had the answers because they had some money from oil. Who thought women were possessions and anybody who did not believe as they did would have to be eliminated from the world. They always forget American resolve, ingenuity, and the call to service in the fight for freedom.
Bobby had just hung up when he saw him. Tariq pushed the cart rapidly forward, and Bobby noticed an FBI agent and a New York City police detective both followed him in the building. Bobby remembered their faces and sport coats from his briefing earlier. Both were palming their weapons under their sport coats, but obviously were waiting on his move. He was thankful for that.
Right in front of the elevator, Bobby brought his gun up in a standard double-palm grip and yelled, “Tariq Ubaadah, you are under arrest. Freeze! Don’t move!”
Eyes opening wide, Tariq reached for the suitcase latch, and Bobby’s gun boomed twice, while the detective’s .45 and FBI agent’s Glock both boomed, and the man’s head exploded in several directions and his body dropped onto the floor with the suitcase falling on his bloody body. All three officers approached, guns still drawn, and the FBI agent kicked the terrorist’s lifeless hand away from the suitcase. Bobby moved the suitcase ten feet away from the body.
He said into the microphone on his lapel, “Tariq is dead, bomb secured.”
In the Oval Office, Department of Homeland Security, U.S. Border Patrol, FBI headquarters, CIA, DIA, NYPD headquarters, the city’s Mayor’s Office, and Task Force headquarters, it was as if everyone let their breath out at once, and everyone started cheering and dancing.
Bo’s phone rang and a secretary said, “Captain Devore.”
Bo said, “Yes?”
The woman said, “Please hold for the President.”
She put Bo on hold.
There was a click and the President said, “Major Samuels, Captain Devore, are you both there?”
They both said, “Yes, Mr. President.”
He said, “The citizens of this country will never know what you did, but God knows, and we know, and we can never thank you enough for your extreme courage and your professionalism. I heard you both have been walking wounded, so after you have taken some medical leave to heal up, the First Lady and I would love to have your for dinner at the White House.”
Bobby said, “I would be deeply honored, sir.”
Bo said impishly, “I’m not sure, Mr. President. Will you be serving any Mexican food. I am staying away from that for a while.”
The President chuckled, saying, “Captain, I will let you dictate the menu to the chef.”
Bo said, “Sir, I, too, would be deeply honored.”
EPILOGUE
After the medical checkups and care, and debriefing with General Perry and celebration with other bigwigs, Bo and Bobby hugged each other after being given thirty days’ convalescent leave that would not count against their annual leave time.
