Enemy Among Us-A Jordan Wright Thriller (21 page)

“Location, location, location,” William chimed in, reciting the real estate mantra. “I have to agree with Jordan. Think about dropping these kids in any major city. They carry out the attack and, if any of them survive, they can just blend in. If they’re injured, they are taken to the hospitals and treated as a victim. No one’s going to think of them as suspects, even if someone was close enough to see something. They probably aren’t going to be in any condition to file a witness account.”

“We’ve got to give them credit,” Jordan observed. “This is well planned. I don’t think we’ve ever come across a group with the resources to take this much time in planning and prep prior to execution.”

“You know what it really is. It’s patience,” Max told them. “Most of these groups are so rabid, they can’t wait to strike and, that’s when they make mistakes. The patience this cell has displayed is what could allow it to pull off the biggest surprise we’ve known.”

They all stared at each other; there was so much to do, but not enough information to do anything. Their hope would have to lie in the moving of the supplies, that it would get them somehow closer to understanding the target.

One of the agents stepped into the room. “Everyone is in place. Mustafa picked up three men and it looks like they‘re headed in this direction.”

“Okay. We’ll be out in a second. Thanks,” Max nodded to the agent to shut the door. “This may be our opportunity. Let’s not let anything get by us. The smallest detail might be the one that begins to pull this all together.” Max led the way out of the room.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Mustafa had jumped into his van, intent on what he must do, but still puzzled over Akmed. As he drove, he reviewed his conversation with Akmed for the tenth time or more and still couldn’t tell if the man was a threat or not to the operation. On the phone, Akmed didn’t seem any more nervous than usual. All the parents exhibited a level of nervousness around him and he used it to his advantage. None of them ever questioned him and they always responded to his demands. He felt it worked best that way, even though he’d never been instructed to be a threat to his people.

Akmed had seemed like himself – or, at least, like his recent self, since Mahasin had passed away. There wasn’t anything Mustafa could put his finger on that made him feel he needed to eliminate Akmed, since getting rid of him could cause issues with Aziz. Aziz was too important to the mission and Mustafa could not afford to have him distracted by the death or disappearance of his father. Of all the children, Aziz was the best. He was a natural born leader and he could rally the other children to do almost anything and, even if they weren’t totally successful in the task, Aziz would have inspired everyone to have done their best. In another place or time Aziz, would have been a leader in industry or politics. He would have had a bright and successful future — but there were other plans for him. Aziz would achieve success but in that success, more than likely would come death and, that was the way it had to be. He would play a key role on the day of the mission and its success or failure would lie on how well Aziz carried out his part of the mission and how he would lead the others. Mustafa had all the confidence in the world about Aziz. A smile crossed his face as he thought about Aziz and the role the boy would play.

He’d driven through Center City, to an area knows as the “Northern Liberties.” He would pick up the newest employees of the City of Brotherly Love Cleaning Service and they would go with him to Akmed’s and help load up all of the supplies. He’d already asked one of the men to pick up an additional van from the local rental agency to also be used this night and over the next several days. After going around the block twice, he looked for any sign of a tail, Mustafa pulled to the curb, next to an old apartment building. While the golden sheen of lights glowed from several of the apartments, one could also peer inside and see that the units were old and poorly maintained. The Northern Liberties was one of those neighborhoods in transformation where many of the young professionals of Philly had moved into the area, followed by trendy nightclubs and restaurants. They would buy up the apartment buildings and old factories and turn them into condos at prices too high for the original residents, these people forced to leave the only neighborhood in which they had ever lived. Rumor had it that a Whole Foods Market would be building in the next block. Mustafa never understood the name. What was a whole food? It just seemed like a grocery store at which people were willing to pay more than necessary for the same products one could purchase at the local Acme. Americans, he thought, always willing to pay more just to pay more, they were never satisfied with what they had and always wanted more, while neglecting those who had less.

He saw two of the men exit the building and come down the stairs. They turned and headed toward the truck. One of them opened the side cargo door and both piled in. They seated themselves on the rugs Mustafa had placed on the van’s floor. At the same moment, an almost identical van pulled up behind them. Mustafa recognized his third man as the driver and slipped his vehicle into gear, headed to Akmed’s store.

Mustafa faulted himself for not having already secured two of the radios so he could be in communication with the other van. He hoped nothing would cause the driver to become separated from him in traffic. He knew the driver only had a rudimentary understanding of the streets of Philadelphia and Mustafa hadn’t wanted to give them a map or written directions, in case the police stopped them. Mustafa would just have to place his fate in the hands of Allah that they would be able to stay together in the traffic. Mustafa was careful to time the traffic lights at the intersections they needed to pass through, so he’d instructed the other driver not to be right behind him, but rather remain a few cars back, with other vehicles between them, so it wouldn’t be obvious they were in a caravan.

On several occasions, Mustafa stopped his vehicle as the light turned yellow, versus going quickly through, as the traffic around him did. This caused several of the cars behind them to honk their horns and, on one occasion, a car skidded to stop just inches from the rear bumper of the van. Mustafa could see the woman in the car was upset and making obscene gestures through the windshield. Mustafa found the people of Philadelphia to lack patience. They were always in a hurry, and so critical of what went on in their city. If their beloved Eagles didn’t win, they were instantly ready to fire the coach and the quarterback, only to love them the next week, when they had a big win. Mustafa just did not understand.

They were successful in their negotiation through the Center City traffic and soon pulled into the back alley behind the hardware store. The two vans were parked against the fence, attempting to keep the alley passable. They wouldn’t be parked there long, but Mustafa didn’t want to stop their loading in order to move the vans because another resident needed to get through to get in or out of the alley.

As the men jumped out, they opened the fence and found the door to the storeroom unlocked. They headed in and Mustafa found the switch for the lights. He quickly surveyed the room and found the area with the numerous boxes of their supplies. He directed the men there and assigned each one a certain box to take out to the vans, since Mustafa wanted certain boxes in a certain van, while ensuring everything was loaded that needed to go.

In less than an hour, the vans were loaded and headed back to the Northern Liberties. The second van contained the book bags, radios and some of the other items. Driving directly home, Mustafa had the guns and explosive materials in his van. He backed into the driveway, up against the garage door. He didn’t want anyone to break in and steal the guns. He headed into the house to turn on the news, because he was interested in one particular news item.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

NORTHERN LIBERTIES NEIGHBORHOOD OF PHILADELPHIA

Sergeant Larry O’Meara rose from the table and grabbed the check. “Come on, rookie. Time to get back out there and ensure the safety of the citizens of Philadelphia. Tonight, dinner is on me.” Heading to the cashier, he looked around. He’d been coming to this restaurant his entire eighteen and a half years on the force and, in two months, he would be eligible for retirement. He already had a job lined up, working at his brother-in-laws’ sporting goods store in Montgomery County, and was counting the days when he would hang his gun and badge up for good. O’Meara had enjoyed his years as a cop and counted as his best friends the guys he’d gone with through the academy. But, he was ready to go. The last year was one worth forgetting. Five fellow officers getting gunned down had been enough — more than enough. He was tired of coming home to his wife and knowing she’d been crying while he was gone. Several of his buddies were already off the force and seemed to be having the time of their lives. He was ready to join that club. But, first things first, he had this new rookie to train.

Sheila Brown hadn’t always wanted to be a police officer. It was true that her Uncle and three cousins were on the force, but she never really saw herself in the blues. She’d married young and had three children. Then, her husband decided to move to Florida — without his family — and she found herself alone and in need of an income. Starting at Wal-Mart, she eventually became part of the store security team. That was where she met Larry, the responding officer on most occasions when she’d caught a shoplifter. She appreciated how Larry always kept the dignity of the person, even if they had committed the crime. He’d taken a liking to her and felt she was an ideal candidate to join the ranks of the blue line. Every time there was a new cadet class being formed, Larry dropped off the information, until finally he made her meet him for lunch and they filled out the application together.

She fell in love with the job. She excelled at the Academy and graduated second in her class. Larry put in a special request to be her training officer. Spending the last two and a half months together, she had learned more from Larry then she’d ever imagined — not just about the job, but how best to do it. They took the time to meet people and get out of the car and know the folks in the community. Larry had become her mentor, and she dreaded the reality that, in two weeks, her training would be over and she would be reassigned. She also was disappointed that the man who had pushed her into this career would be leaving the force.

She got up from the table and pulled a few dollars out for a tip. She stopped to say goodbye to a few of the regulars she’d gotten to know along with the staff at the restaurant and followed Larry out the door.

Larry drove tonight and so she walked around to the passenger side. They had been given one of the new Dodge Chargers the department had introduced as patrol cars. They were the first cars where the interiors had been designed to accommodate all of the computer equipment officers carried with them. Being both roomy and fast, Larry loved it and liked to take it onto interstate ninety-five at least a couple of times each shift to really open it up.

“This could get me to sign up for another four years,” Larry would always say when he got the chance to really show what the car would do. While Sheila wished it were true, she knew it wasn’t.

They pulled out of the diner’s parking lot and resumed their patrol. With the recent cut backs in the city’s budget, they were one of only three cars on patrol in their district this night, when usually there would have been, at minimum, five. Sheila grabbed the radio and notified dispatch they had returned from dinner and were in their sector.

The next hour was routine. They had one traffic stop for a car with a broken taillight and Sheila had handled it. As they got back into the car, the radio squawked with the report of an armed robbery at a convenience store a few blocks from their location. Sheila responded to the dispatcher that they were in route and started to flip on the light bar and the siren.

Larry grabbed her hand. “Traffic’s light and we’re just a few blocks out. Best to go in quiet and not to panic whoever is in the store.” There was a reassuring sound from the engine compartment as Larry urged the Dodge down the street. With all green lights and only one red – they coasted through it anyway — they reached the “stop and rob,” as Larry called the store. Larry took the cruiser around the corner and entered the side parking lot. Just as Larry and Sheila pulled up at the store, two suspects raced out of the store and jumped into a car that was backed into a space.