Black Flagged Apex (19 page)

"Hamid, eight out of the ten sites were taken down by True America. Turn on the news and you'll see what happened to the ninth team. Give me the tenth team and any information related to your contact with True America, and I will arrange your immediate transit to Saudi Arabia, where you can start over. You have been betrayed by True America. Frankly, we don't know their motivations for stealing all of the virus. I need links to the group, contact information. Some kind of way to set up a meeting to deliver the remaining virus canisters. I need the last cell to make this happen. I need their identities so we can pose as this team and resurface. I also need to be able to report to my people that we are only facing one threat. You'll have to sacrifice this team."

"I'll never betray my brothers," Hamid said.

"They've already been betrayed. If you don't help us with this, you'll go to Guantanamo as a filthy child pornographer and traitor to your own cause. We'll put together a scenario that will be impossible for you to explain. Trust me on this."

Hamid remained silent.

"This will be easy for you. You'll report that the ninth cell was killed trying to accomplish their mission and that the final cell has been killed by True America. We'll make it look like the other attacks. Nobody will know the difference, and you'll vanish, only to reappear at some later date. We'll keep you hidden from the government until we can verify your information. Once verified, we'll start the process of getting you out of the country. Wherever you choose."

"It won't be that easy. I can't just go running back to the mosques in Saudi Arabia. It would make no sense. And I can't simply appear in Pakistan or anywhere for that matter. If the plan failed, they'll be looking for me."

"That's not my problem. I can only guarantee to get you to your chosen destination."

"How do I know you won't shoot me in the back of the head after I tell you what you want to know?"

"I swear by Allah."

"And your friend?"

"I swear by Allah as well," Tariq said.

"This is no coincidence, Hamid. I'm not the most faithful Muslim, but I am a Muslim. The Prophet has given you another chance. Before we arrived, you had nothing. Your last remaining operational cell is useless given the circumstances. All is lost, and I guarantee there is no way you could escape the country without our help. Maybe you'll disappear and never be heard from again, or maybe you'll continue the fight. That's not for me to decide. It is His will, and we are all given different paths."

"It is truly His will," Hamid conceded.

"We'll need to move you to a more secure location. The FBI is working on a warrant to enter the mosque. Right now it's under surveillance from the outside. We've identified two vans and an apartment with a view of the front and back doors," he said.

"How will you get me out of here?"

"Easy enough, I hope. Just follow our directions without question. Understood?" Aleem said.

Hamid nodded. He directed Tariq to join him in the upstairs office to coordinate the escape, which would require the surveillance team to earn their paycheck. When they arrived at the top of the stairs, Tariq turned to Aleem and whispered, "What was that speech all about?"

Aleem grabbed his arm and moved him toward the back of the office, away from the stairwell.

"Hope. Without hope, he'll put up another barrier. We don't have time for that."

"Well, my hope is that you don't really plan to let him go free," Tariq said.

"Of course not, he's dead as soon as we confirm the information needed to move the investigation forward."

**

Ten minutes later, Special Agent Janice Riehms stared through her binoculars at a van approaching Masjid Muhammad's side entrance on Sussex Avenue. The white Dodge Sprinter van drove at a normal speed as it neared the last remaining stop sign separating it from the mosque. From her observation post in the front window of a third-story apartment at the intersection of Jay and Sussex, she had a clear view of the mosque's front and side entrances. Since Hamid Muhammad had become the center of the FBI's attention, four additional agents had been assigned to the two-bedroom apartment, shrinking the space considerably, but ensuring that they could accurately screen every person coming in and out of the mosque.

Attendance had dropped considerably throughout the day, making their jobs slightly easier. The facial recognition software tied to their surveillance cameras gave them an initial "probability of match" analysis within a second of a face appearing at the door. If any of the faces were obscured from sight, back-up cameras installed on the roofs of two additional locations along Jay Street would ensure they could capture a digital image. Failing that, undercover FBI agents mobilized along Jay and Sussex during prayer times could approach the suspect and confirm their identity. They had coordinated three on street "interactions" today, which likely explained the shrinking number of attendees at the mosque. Word travelled quickly throughout the Muslim community.

"I have a van approaching from the west on Sussex. White with no rear windows. Looks like a cargo van," she said to the two agents watching the flat-screen monitors.

Two additional agents appeared in the doorway to observe. Tensions had been heating up all day, but sunset prayer put them all on high alert. The three young men that always stayed behind in the mosque had been joined by two additional men. One of them had entered for sunset prayer and failed to emerge an hour later. The other appeared two blocks away on Jay Street and waited outside of the front door for a few minutes before entering. Nearly three hours later, none of them had exited the mosque, which gave Special Agent Riehms the impression that they were plotting to help the Imam escape.

"Notify mobile SWAT units," she ordered.

"Got it. Units notified. I have the van leaving the stop sign. We'll be watching closely," replied one of the agents in front of the monitors.

The entire internal bedroom wall had been occupied with long folding tables and computer equipment. Four flat-screen monitors showed the separate surveillance feeds, and one larger monitor held their command and control interface. The agent who had just responded typed the SWAT notification, which was instantly transferred to both of the Suburbans. The SUVs were parked one block away, effectively sandwiching Jay Street. Each vehicle carried five SWAT agents, including the driver, and could move into a blocking position to prevent the escape of a vehicle leaving the mosque.

"Confirmed. Van is approaching the mosque," Riehms said.

She watched the van pass the side entrance and suddenly stop. Three figures darted from the mosque's door, disappearing behind the van.

"Fuck! They're loading him into the van!" she said, continuing to watch.

"I have the van stopped at the intersection of Jay and Sussex, turning left onto Jay. I didn't see it stop," said the agent watching the screen.

Another agent mumbled agreement. Through her binoculars, she saw the van speed through the intersection and turn right onto Jay Street. She ran from the window to the computer monitor.

"What the fuck are you talking about? I just watched it pick up three men and turn right onto Jay. Get SWAT moving south to intercept!"

"The van turned left. Take a look. Nobody left the mosque," the agent said.

"I saw it with my own fucking eyes. We're going to lose the Imam. Send SWAT south. The van has to turn on Central Ave. Either way, one of our teams can intercept!"

There was a two-second delay as puzzled agents traded glances. She didn't like the fact that they were questioning her judgment, but she could understand their confusion. The computer monitor playback clearly showed the van turning left. Something was wrong here.

"Open a channel to SWAT," Riehms said as the agent typed her initial intercept request into the computer.

"I just fired off the order. They'll have plenty of time to intercept if the van went right. Should I notify non-tactical units to proceed north, just to cover our asses?"

"Fine. Send them north," she said, grabbing the headset offered to her by the agent. "SWAT Mobile this is Overlook. Proceed south to intercept a white Dodge Sprinter van. No back windows. Minimum of four onboard, possibly including our target. How copy, over?"

A static-filled voice responded, "This is SWAT Mobile. My unit has just passed Dickerson Street. Less than five seconds away from a blocking position on Central Avenue. Sister unit is approaching Central along Hudson. Stand by for visual confirmation."

A few tense seconds passed as they waited for the truth. Agent Riehms thought about contacting the non-tactical units, but decided against it. She had seen the van turn right; there was no point contacting them, unless the van didn't show up on Central Avenue. There was no way for the van to break through Jay onto one of the adjoining streets and double back. They had confirmed this during a tactical assessment of the neighborhood. If the van didn't appear on Central, the only possible explanation was that it had stopped.

"Can you call up a map that shows our units' positions? We might need to guide them if the van tries to double back."

"One second," the agent replied, typing away.

All of the agents assigned to the stakeout were huddled around the computer monitor, blocking her view of the larger, central screen. She moved to a more centralized location to view the map.

"Agent Bedford, take these and make sure the van doesn't come back down Jay Street," she said, giving the binoculars to the newest agent to join her team.

"Yes, ma'am."

When the agent reached the window, her headset came to life.

"Suspect van just turned left onto Central Avenue. Moving forward to block. My second unit is less than fifty feet behind them. Send back-up units! The van just slowed and is now turning into oncoming traffic! Unit two just rammed them from behind. Stand by. Out."

The line went dead.

"Send FBI and police units to their location, Central Avenue between Norfolk and Hudson. Give them one of our radio frequencies for coordination. What the fuck? Why does this map show all of our units headed north? You ordered SWAT south, right?"

"Yes! You just talked to them! Where did they say they were?"

"On Central Avenue," she muttered, utterly confused.

"SWAT Mobile, this is Overlook. What is your status, over?"

"Overlook. This is SWAT Mobile. I just turned left on Orange. No sign of the suspect van. Approaching Jay Street. Do you want me to turn down Jay and start searching? I can keep unit two at the top of the street to prevent an escape."

"SWAT Mobile. You just reported to me that you had engaged the suspect van on Central Avenue? Confirm your location again?" she said.

"I'm at the top of Jay Street. I've been taking my orders from the mobile tablet. I haven't sent an update since we started driving north," the voice replied.

"They drove north? Shit!" she yelled.

"His GPS location matches. According to the system, both SWAT Mobile units are at the northern end of Jay Street."

"Something is wrong with the system. Can you play back my conversation with SWAT Mobile?" she said.

"Which one?"

"The one supposedly on Central Avenue. Put it on speaker," she ordered.

Three seconds later, her conversation echoed through the room, filling her with dread. There was a stark difference between the two voices and the quality of the transmission. Her conversation with the SWAT leader on Central Avenue had been full of static, and there was something off with the voice.

"What do you hear in that conversation?" she asked the other agents.

"I don't mean this to sound like a racial comment, but it sounded like you were on a bad connection with Dell technical support in Bangalore, India."

Nobody laughed at his comment.

"Is it possible for this system to be hijacked or hacked?" Agent Riehms asked.

"It's not
im
possible," conceded the agent sitting in front of the command screen.

"Shit. Communicate with cell phones only, until we figure out what happened. I want all units headed south. We have to assume they're already on Central Avenue. I want blocks set up at every entrance to Interstate 280 for ten miles in either direction. Can you give us a directory of cell phone numbers for everyone assigned to our group?"

The agent typed a few commands, and a list appeared. He ordered the computer to print several copies. Agent Riehms entered the numbers for the SWAT team leader's cell phone and pressed send. A second later, she heard a buzzing sound coming from Agent Bedford, who was dutifully watching Jay Street through his binoculars. He reached for his belt and took out his Blackberry. When he read the screen, he lowered the binoculars and held up the phone so she could see the screen.

"I think it's safe to assume that our system was hacked," Agent Bedford said, "unless you misdialed an entire cell phone number."

**

Aleem Fayed hit the van's sliding door and toppled to the carpeted floor, keeping a grip on Hamid Muhammad's arm. Tariq had fared better during the wild turn, having immediately grabbed the only permanently affixed passenger seat available in the back of the converted van. Tariq had expressed his concern about using the surveillance team for this kind of a precision timed maneuver, but they really didn't have a choice. If he had left the mosque at midnight to join up with the van, there was a solid chance that the FBI would follow him. The van took another sharp turn, which elicited a few excited hollers and sent Aleem careening into Tariq and Hamid.

"Take it easy, Graves! We're clear! The last thing we need is to attract any local police attention. Cars speeding around corners at midnight attract a lot of attention! Slow the fuck down!"

"All right! All right! I just wanted to get us off Central Avenue. We're fine. Right in the middle of Rutgers University. I'll cruise us through campus, and we'll head south," Timothy Graves said.

Graves was the leader and default driver for the team, which had fallen short by one over the course of the past week. They had lost their secondary hacker, Benjamin Weindorf, to a startup computer security company that had just secured several million dollars of funding from the U.S. Navy. Tariq had personally visited Weindorf upon arriving in the States, to impress upon the young man that any mention of his previous "benefactor" would result in an early burial. Graves had been unable to find a trustworthy replacement in such a short period of time, but they might not need one in the future. Their primary systems hacker seemed more than capable of handling the excess workload.