End Days Super Boxset (31 page)

“Keep firing!” Sayed ordered as they drove through the gate and closer to the four main generators, which were then in sight, enclosed behind yet another fence.

Achebe quickly jerked the wheel and sped toward the fence’s gate, bracing himself as they crashed through, splitting the gate open. Gunfire rang out as the emergency sirens continued to wail.

All teams quickly assembled outside their vans and began pulling out their explosives, casings and charges in a quick and orderly fashion. Each casing contained over twenty-five pounds of TNT. They had thirty in all and positioned them around the generators—each one about half the size of a silo.

Wiring was run from the casings to time-charges set out in a precise, pre-planned pattern. Everything seemed to be in place, and there wasn’t much time left. From afar, the gunfire stopped and Sayed hoped it meant that all opposition had been eliminated.

“Back in the vans, now!” he ordered. The militants scrambled to finish placing the last charges and set their timers accordingly. “We have one minute. Move!” He ran back to the van to find Achebe leaning against the door smoking. He scowled in anger and disbelief.

“What are you doing? Does this look like the time to be taking a break?”

Achebe smiled. “Calm down, little one. You’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

Sayed waved him off. “Just get in the van and drive. They’ll be sending others at any moment.”

After everyone rushed back into the vans, their engines roared and they backed up, nearly hitting a small, unmarked building that housed circuit breakers and maintenance equipment. Sayed jumped in his seat as Achebe drove off, back the way they had come in. Two militants were waiting outside the plant entrance, hunkered down behind a concrete barrier.

The first van slowed, and they jumped in. Bodies of both militants and police lay on the ground in pools of blood. There was no sign of police or security anywhere. Perhaps they had all been killed.

As the vans raced away from the power plant, back down the long, narrow, broken-pavement road, Sayed felt satisfied with their mission. He looked in his side-view mirror just as a large explosion went off far in the distance: a ball of fury that lit up the sky red. The van rattled and shook as the ground tremored. Sayed let out a large breath of relief. Cheering erupted over his handheld radio from the other men. It was only the first of many power plant attacks occurring at the same time.

An hour before the first plant explosion, Craig was led into the operations room with Ma’mun’s laptop. Under the low ceiling of the brightly-lit room was a large oval table surrounded by officials heatedly discussing the latest updates.

Others wearing headsets manned several work stations where they were directing agencies like air traffic controllers. Along the wall near the table were flat-screen televisions displaying graphs, figures, and charts, one displaying various news reports, and another showing a three-dimensional map of the United States—indicating areas undergoing evacuation, potential high-risk targets, and other color-coded data. The mesh of different colors made it hard to focus on anything except the red areas, those with the highest recorded casualties.

The group gathered in the secret operations room comprised high-ranking officials from the FBI to Homeland Security. Pentagon officials and the joint chiefs were nowhere to be seen, nor was the president or any of his staff. That was until Secretary of State Jamie Kessler, the young, newly-appointed secretary, waltzed into the room across the spotless white-tiled floor, followed by a sizable entourage.

“Son of…” Calderon began quietly. “What the hell is the State Department doing here?”

“Did high school just get out? I didn’t hear the bell,” Walker said back to him, jokingly. They both shared a laugh. Craig stood to the side as Secretary Kessler attempted to speak over the clamor.

“Everyone, if I could have your attention please!”

The room gradually quieted as conversations died down, phone calls were put on hold, and tired-looking officials with rolled-up sleeves and blank faces stopped what they were doing. At thirty-three, Kessler had moved up the ranks fast—some would argue too fast. Most of the officials in the room were twice his age. Craig wasn’t sure what to think about him. It would depend on if, and how, Kessler got in his way.

“Yes, hello everyone,” the secretary continued. “I don’t mean to interrupt your very important work, but we have some urgent news from the White House, and we all need to be on the same page.”

Only the faint sound of the television news played in the background.

“Outside the State Department, I’ve heard some things about possible military strikes in place in ISIS hotspots all throughout the Iraq and Syria,” Kessler began. “What
I
need is to ensure that our diplomatic relations with Middle Eastern countries stay strong, despite the talk of military action.”

The talk of war had everyone’s immediate attention. They had all been thinking it for the past forty-eight hours, but it was the first time a public official had confirmed that an offensive was in the works.

“To keep this delicate balance, the president requested I spend time in the bunker identifying the members, the nationalities and roles of these suspected sleeper cells. It’s my understanding that we have some suspects in custody.”

A young woman at Kessler’s side, wearing large glasses and an air of importance, suddenly whispered into his ear. Kessler leaned down to hear her and nodded. “I see…” he said quietly. He then looked up at the crowd. “Correction, we have
one
in custody. We need him talking, I don’t know how much more I can stress that. The CIA is expected on-site soon to interrogate him.”

Craig suddenly stepped forward to speak, when Walker grabbed his arm and shook his head in disapproval. “Not this again,” Craig whispered. “He’s
my
suspect. The man tried to kill
my
family and I refuse to hand him over to—”

Walker shushed him as Kessler continued.

“So what’s the latest?” He held out his hands, annoyed at the lack of response. “Well? Whatta we got, people? Don’t tell me I flew all this way just so we can stand here and stare at each other.”

The FBI Director, Kurt McMillian, stood up from the oval table. “Mr. Secretary, as you know, we’ve been chasing sleeper-cell teams at large. One of our agents was captured by an ISIS faction, and miraculously escaped.”

“Where is this agent?” Kessler demanded.

Walker and Calderon looked at Craig, and all other eyes turned in his direction. Rumors involving a rogue agent who had infiltrated the highest levels of the sleeper cells had flown only hours ago. They looked at the bruised-faced, disheveled, thirty-six-year-old man before them in near awe.

Craig took a step forward. “Right here, Mr. Secretary. Special Agent Davis.”

Kessler studied him, sizing him up. “Ah, yes. Agent Davis. Homeland Security had some choice words about you.”

“That’s the least of my concern right now, sir.”

Walker and Kessler looked at each other nervously, then back to Craig as Kessler continued to probe him.

“You crossed paths with these terrorists?” the secretary asked.

“That’s correct. They ambushed a convoy, which I was told was going to the Pentagon. We were transporting a suspected Chechen terrorist. A high-ranking woman known as the Black Widow.”

The mention of her piqued the interest of everyone in the room, many of whom already knew of her.

Craig continued, “A barrage of machine-gun-mounted trucks ambushed us. We had a rollover and a firefight resulting in the death of three FBI agents and five police officer escorts. They took me hostage, but I managed to escape.”

Kessler listened attentively, absorbed in Craig’s words. “And where did you escape from?”

“An abandoned factory in Detroit, Michigan.”

One of Kessler’s aides accidentally burst out laughing, but then quieted himself nervously as people looked at him.

“Do go on,” Kessler said to Craig, glaring at his aide.

Craig told them about the leader, Abu Omar Allawi, the firefight in the factory, his escape, and the death of Allawi’s brother, Ma’mun. He even briefly explained what happened to the Black Widow and the heroism of her nephew, Husein.

Phones began ringing near all the workstations. The calls were ignored as Craig continued his story.

“I found my way home. They followed me there in retaliation. Omar sent a hit squad after me and my family at our cabin in the forest outside of Rockville.”

Kessler was in awe. “And… and how did you survive this onslaught?” he asked.

“I fought back.” Craig tried to choose his words carefully. “Neutralized the threat, all except for one. The terrorist we captured, the leader of the group, goes by the name Ghazi, and he’s our direct link to Omar Allawi.”

Kessler looked past Craig with an incredulous expression. He wanted answers. “And you approve of this? For every ISIS militant you kill, that’s one less piece of leverage we have. It lessens our chance of ending these attacks.”

Craig could feel his anger rising, when suddenly Walker cut the secretary off. “We have a laptop, sir. It reportedly belonged to Ma’mun Allawi.”

Kessler narrowed his eyes. “A laptop. And what’s on it? What information have you been able to ascertain?”

Craig spoke up. “We need to bypass the security setting first. I tried at my cabin and was unsuccessful.” His tone then became more confident and stern. “When I was in captivity, they told me of at least two more major strikes they had planned against the US.”

Kessler looked around the room. “Where?” He paused, barely able to contain himself. “When?”

“They didn’t say, but I think this laptop might tell us.” He held it up for everyone in the room to see.

Kessler shifted his attention to his aides, then back to Craig, then to the FBI director. “Well, what are we waiting for? Crack the damn thing open.”

Craig lowered it, gripping its smooth shiny surface with one hand. He then took a step forward and locked eyes with Kessler. “Before we start, I want to say one thing. If I didn’t kill those men where they stood, they would have killed me and my family. End of story. It’s easy for you or anyone else to second-guess my actions when you weren’t there.”

Calderon ran his hand down his face, frustrated, then gave Walker the stink eye.

“That’s enough,” Walker said, quietly to Craig.

Instead, Craig ignored him. “This is not the time to question decisions I made to survive against this death cult. Not when this country is under attack and desperately hanging on by a thread. And if I had been killed we wouldn’t have this laptop now. Don’t forget that.”

Walker pulled Craig back. “That’s enough, Davis,” he whispered.

Craig said nothing more as the room went dead silent. Kessler stared back him. His face looked flushed. Craig didn’t know if standing up to the secretary would have repercussions or not. Ultimately, he didn’t care.

Kessler dropped his angry expression and then spoke calmly while smacking his hands together. “Very well. Let’s crack open that laptop!”

Kessler and his entourage followed Craig and his superiors to the oval table as officials gave up their seats and made room for them. Craig set the laptop down on the table. Many others left their seats and began closing in around him, and he knew that he was going to have to take charge.

“All right, look,” Craig began, turning to face them. “First off, I’m going to need a power cord for a MacBook. Second, I need a computer analyst to hack into the system. We’re most likely dealing with encrypted files here.”

All eyes went to the FBI director, McMillian. He stood up, shifted his glasses and then pointed across the room, shouting. “Benson and Lutz. Can you come over here, please?”

Two men hurried over to the table. Benson was tall and wore glasses, and had a slight paunch and a shaggy mullet. He then loudly proclaimed that it was no surprise that the job fell on his shoulders. The mustached Lutz was shorter and stockier and more quiet and reserved.

“These are the two best computer analysts we have,” said McMillian. “I’m sure they’ll be able to lend a hand.”

Benson brazenly stepped in between Craig and the table and began examining the laptop. “Ugh,” he scoffed. “This has to be a 2013 model. They don’t make ’em like this anymore, that’s for sure.”

“Excuse me,” Craig said, gently pushing him to the side. “Why don’t you first grab me a power cord?”

Benson flashed him a surprised glare, seeming as if he had never been talked to in such a way before.

“Just do what he asks,” McMillian said, like a tired father breaking up an argument between boys.

Benson turned and shouted, “Lutz, go get a power cord! Quick.”

Lutz hurried away, looking irritated, and came back with the cord. He plugged it into the side and then ran it to a nearby wall outlet. Craig flipped open the laptop and turned it on as the onlookers attempted to crowd in to get a glimpse.

Annoyed by the crush of people, Benson said, “Step back now or leave. If you’re interested in seeing what’s on this thing, someone get me an AV cable so you can watch on the big screen instead.”

He turned, looking around. “Lutz, grab an AV cable!” but Lutz was already on the job, searching for one.

Craig waited for the laptop to start. Once the log-in screen appeared, he stepped aside and held his hand out like an usher to Benson. “It’s all yours.”

Benson approached the laptop confidently and took a seat. The welcome screen was written in Arabic and the log-in profile image displayed the black flag of ISIS.

“Cute,” he said.

He typed wildly across the keyboard as Craig looked over his shoulder. A small black screen with white text popped up on the corner of the screen. His fingers glided over the keys, pushing the cursor along, and then he clicked open other windows, one after the other. Lutz came back with an AV cord in hand.

“We’re going to have to bring it closer to one of the screens.”

Benson turned his head to address the group huddled behind him. “This might take a while. Why don’t you guys give us some space so we can get into this system?” He picked up the laptop and moved it nearer to the flat-screen televisions on the wall. Someone gave up his seat to Benson, who was typing again, hardly missing a beat.

They plugged the AV cord into the TV and projected the log-in screen from the middle television. Kessler shuffled around in his pocket, pulled out a smartphone, and looked at it.

“Shit, I don’t have any bars in here.” He looked around the room. “Anyone getting any service in here?”

The FBI director cut in. “No service underground. But then again, I would have thought you’d have known that, Mr. Secretary.”

“Let’s have some quiet!” said a brave voice from the crowd.

Kessler looked frustrated and distracted. Benson continued working on the laptop, bypassing myriad security barriers while Lutz stood near. Craig kept a close eye on both of them.

“I’m in!” Benson announced.

The officials in the room cheered in celebration.

Kessler took one look at the cluttered desktop screen displayed on the television and scoffed. “How the hell are we going to find anything in that mess? We could be here all day.”

“Not necessarily,” Benson said with his eyes down and glasses resting on the top of his nose. “I can run a search of key words. But first I need to change the language setting on the computer.” He hit several keys and the Arabic text changed to English.