American Terrorist (The Rayna Tan Action Thrillers Book 1) (22 page)

“Of course.”

***

Tariq’s briefing notes for the Hancock Springs Islamic Society were straightforward. “It is rumored but not confirmed that they contributed to the funding of the luxury hotel explosion in Rio de Janeiro two years ago. While the authorities don’t have the required body of proof to confirm, I’m pretty sure that two young members of their congregation joined the Somali extremists that attacked the Kenyan shopping mall. Money is no problem for them so don’t even mention it.”

Stepping onto the grounds of the society, it was hard for Fatima to accept that she was still in California. Three bronze domes graced the expansive mosque from which sprung five minarets, the long thin towers with balconies from which people were called to prayer.

The mosque had five imams and a broad mandate of creating cultural understanding between Muslims and non-Muslims. On its premises were a five-hundred-seat lecture hall, an impressive museum of ancient Middle Eastern artifacts, and one of the world’s great Islamic libraries. However, if Tariq were to be believed, the religious center had a dark underpinning that was well hidden to the general public and investigating authorities.

Like at the Jefferson Center, Fatima was given a grand tour of the facilities. Unlike the Jefferson Center, the junior imam who took her on the tour did not take the bait when challenged. Over the cup of courtesy tea in his office, he seemed offended that she even hinted of any impropriety at their religious center. “We are law-abiding citizens of America. Our members are doctors, lawyers, businessmen and state legislators.”

Fatima bowed her head, as if in apology. Then suddenly, she overturned the table, took a knife out of her purse and drove it an inch into the man’s stomach. She clamped her hand over his mouth and snarled, “Stop this bullshit. Right now, the knife is only an inch in and you’ve only got a surface wound. If you don’t want me to push it all the way in where I can cause some serious damage, we are going to have a real conversation. Got it?”

The imam, unable to make anything other than a muffled gurgling, rapidly shook his head up and down.

Fatima pulled out the knife and quickly dressed the wound with a tight pressure bandage.
 

“Thank you for offering this opportunity to talk seriously,” said Fatima. “We have a common enemy and I am glad you are willing to listen.”

The pained imam nodded. “We have been concerned for many years about what is happening to our people. They are losing the fire, the passion of the faith. They are watering it down to make it acceptable to the masses.”

“Which is why I am here. We need to shock not only America, but our own people out of their misguided comfort.”

“There are many who claim to want to do that already,” said the imam cautiously.

Fatima’s eyes bored into him. “You do not need to tread lightly with me, Imam. There are those who claim to be our brothers, those who claim to represent Allah.” Fatima spat on the ground. “Forgive me, Imam, but that is the only way I can express my disgust. You know as well as I do they are only using the name of Allah to line their pockets while performing acts of infidelity that harm Islam. We need to support true leaders, and I am here representing someone I feel will lead the world.”

Fatima played the beheading video, watching carefully as the imam’s interest grew. “I know about Kenya and I know about Rio de Janeiro. My question is, ‘What are you doing for America?’“

The imam bowed his head. He was silent as he inhaled and exhaled, thinking, thinking, thinking. Finally, he looked up and said, “We have not been as diligent here as we should be.”

“Can you choose a group of key people for my brother to address?”

The imam nodded. “That would be our honor... It is about time.”

Fatima got up. “Thank you, Imam. I will be in touch with you shortly.”

Fatima made a variation on one of these presentations three more times that day. Every one of the imams expressed their interest in meeting Ahmed and finding out more. The plan that she and Ahmed conceived years ago was coming alive. Within a year, both of them would be fabulously wealthy.

Chapter 26
 

When Rayna woke up, she was surprised to find herself strapped down in a bed on an airplane with Jennah and Lena sleeping in the seats in front of her.

“What happened?” she asked groggily.

The FME medic stepped in. “You had a nasty bump and got knocked out by the force of the explosion back in the desert. If you played in the NFL or NHL, you would be out of commission for a few games while they made sure you had no concussion issues.”

“No can do,” said Rayna, shaking her head. “I got a job to do.”

“You trying to tell me you’re tougher than a three-hundred-pound lineman?”

“Any soldier is. Now unstrap me,” said the feisty Asian woman.

The medic obeyed. “You didn’t thank me for saving your life.”

“I’ll send you the medal in the mail... Where’re we going?”

“You and the girls are going to CenCom. I’m gonna take a week off and then head back to the madness.”

“You’re a good guy.”

“Does that mean you’ll go on a date with me?”

“Not that good,” said Rayna as she forced herself up to look at the sleeping girls.
 

Jennah stirred, then opened her eyes and mumbled sleepily, “Hi, Rayna. I’m going to be like you when I grow up.”

“There’s lots of time for you to grow up and think about what you’ll do. Besides, why would you want to be like me?”

“No one will ever marry us now because... well, you know why. And they won’t let us go to school... But I can pick up a gun. Just like you.”

Be ready for the shock of your lives.
“You know nothing about America, do you?”

“It’s full of awful people who hate us, who want to kill us. Everyone knows that.”

No wonder it’s so damned hard to win the war.
“Jennah, it’s nothing like that at all. I’m going to make sure you have a nice place to stay and you can go to school. And, in America, there are all kinds of men. Nice men you’ll be able to marry.”

Lena, who had been listening, piped up. “Then how come you’re not married?”

Rayna was not prepared for that. “It’s complicated.”

***

What does “freedom” mean? To Jennah and Lena, their new life had already begun. The steward set up a big screen on the jet and the two of them watched cartoons and ate a special American treat. Pizza!

Rayna sat at the front with the pilot, deep in video conversation with Julio and Helena back at CenCom, briefing them about her Syrian trip.

“This will sound terrible, but this Ahmed guy sounds pretty hot,” said Helena. “I love guys with beards and, if his privates are as big as you say they are...”

“I can grow a beard,” answered Julio. “And size is highly overrated.”

“Can we get serious?” grumbled Rayna.

“We’re as serious as we can be given that we haven’t stepped out of this glorified cell bunker except to crap or pee,” said Julio.

“Here’s the problem,” added Helena. “There is no intel on the little village and very little on the town where Ahmed is from. And I hate to tell you this, but the name, Casey? Well, twenty years ago, give or take five years, it was consistently in the top one hundred names given to boys born in America so that’s a non-starter.”

“How many terrorists are called Ahmed and have a scar that runs from their eyebrow to their chin?” asked Rayna with exasperation. “Especially those whose English is good?”

“We’ve tapped into Homeland, Mossad, CIA, SAS... there are thousands of possibilities. I mean, half the country are soldiers or bandits and they all have souvenirs of war—a scar is no big deal. There’s got to be another factor, like maybe you’ve got part of the description wrong or his name isn’t really Ahmed.”
 

“So you have nothing.” Rayna said, disappointed.

“No,” admitted Julio. “Not yet.”

Chapter 27
 

“You are such a loser, Alex,” belched Scotty, who didn’t seem to have moved from his spot on the sofa as Alex and Freddy walked in the door. The only change was that, instead of six empty beer bottles, there were several cases of empties plus eight empty Costco-sized bottles of cheap red wine.

“You can’t talk to my baby boy like that,” said Iris, in a sickening saccharine kind of voice. She held out her arms and twinkled her fingers. “Come give Mommy a big kiss.”

Gritting his teeth, Alex obediently stepped over and gave his mother a reluctant smack on the lips.

“That’s my baby boy,” smirked Iris as the boys walked to Alex’s room.

“Hey, you two guys homos or something? Guys should be out there getting laid, not spending all their time with each other,” slurred Scotty as Alex closed his bedroom door. “Homos!”

It was true that Freddy and Alex were spending a lot of time together alone in Alex’s room. They kept on looking at the monitor, wondering when Casey was going to contact them again, but it had been completely silent.

Until now.
 

The internet phone, from some unknown random number, began ringing on Alex’s computer.
 

“Who’s that, Freddy?”

“Have no idea. And we won’t find out unless you answer it.”

Alex shrugged. “Okay.” He clicked the telephone icon to answer. “Hello?”

A young surfer dude voice spoke. “Hey. Is that Alex?”

“You got it, man. Who are you?”

“I’m the guy in the video with the red hair.”

“You?” said Alex, gaping at the black screen.

“Yeah, that’s me. Hey, I’m Casey.”

“Nice to meet you, Casey.”

“Likewise. Freddy with you?”

“You got it, man. Wow, you sound...”

Alex and Freddy heard a chuckle. “I sound normal. Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Yeah,” said Freddy sheepishly.

Casey put on a fake gruff voice. “You mean, I shoulda been talkin’ like this.”

“Kinda.”

“Man, that is so cliché and old school,” said Casey, back in his normal voice. “You guys got a lot to learn.”

“That’s why we’re here.”

“Let’s get together. You know the McDonald’s in Livermore, close to the freeway?”

“That’s five minutes from my place,” said Alex.

“Duh? Why do you think I chose it? How soon can you get here?”

“Five minutes.”

“You’re not having a problem with Scotty?”

“How the hell do you know so much about me?” asked an astonished Alex.

“Like I said before, I checked you out. See you soon. And a tip. Tell the fat bastard you’ll put some gas in that lousy excuse for a vehicle of his.”

“Will do.”

“He is so totally awesome,” fawned Freddy.

The two left. Following Casey’s tip, Alex told Scotty he would put some gas in the tank.

“Take the car,” grunted Scotty. It was probably the first time he didn’t object.

***

Of course, Casey wasn’t psychic nor could he spy on everybody and anything through the internet. But a couple of small, cheap Walmart cameras, installed when Scotty was passed out did the trick. He didn’t have to worry about Alex because he was always out or hiding in his room. Casey figured nobody in that house would look in the cobwebbed corners for a hidden spycam.

Sitting at an inside table at Mickey D’s, Casey spotted Alex and Freddy entering and waved them over. “Hey, you.”

Within ten minutes, anyone who didn’t know better would have thought these guys had hung together all their lives. They found a table outside to chat, laugh and check each other out while they inhaled quarter-pounders, fries and cokes.
 

The more Casey talked, the more Alex and Freddy wanted in on whatever it was that he was putting together. Casey was just so damned smart.

Casey knew that their parents, especially their fathers, were complete assholes. And how the hell did he know that neither of them had ever had a girlfriend or even had a girl say anything nice to them? Or that their teachers were complete losers?

According to Casey, it was because their parents, their schools, the chicks were all part of the system of the American Great Satan and its partner Israel, the Little Satan. After his rant, Casey asked point blank, “So what the hell are we going to do? You either worship the devil or you kill the devil. He’s either good or bad. If you love the spics, the blacks, the chinks, the kikes, homos and want them to defile your white purity, just do what they want you to do. You know what that is?”

Alex and Freddy shook their heads—they hadn’t a clue.

“You see? They got you sucked in to it. You are doing exactly what they want you to do. NOTHING. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. And that’s why I’m here. Because I want to be part of the change. I want to get rid of the evil in the system.”

“Me, too!” yelled Freddy and Alex, almost in unison.

“But how much do you want it? Are you willing to fight? Are you willing to sacrifice? And are you willing to kill?”

Both novitiate commandos nodded vociferously. “Anything, Casey. Anything. We are there. Just tell us the plan.”

“Well, we’re gonna see. See if you got the stuff. Hey, I’m so glad we met. You guys are even better in person. I can just see you with a Kalashnikov or a grenade.” Casey made the firing sounds of a repeating weapon, then finished by lifting his hands and going, “Boom!”

“Yeah! Boom. Boom. Boom!” howled Freddy, delighted like a kid on a playground.

Casey’s face suddenly turned serious. “Okay, gotta get real now. Truth is that Ahmed, my boss, the guy in the video, remember?”

Alex and Freddy nodded.

“Ahmed only wants one of you. He says you guys are too evenly matched. In battle, you gotta have different thinkers. If everybody did the same thing, they’d be like lemmings. Understand?”

Again, Alex and Freddy nodded but both were thinking the same thing.
What the hell is a lemming?

Freddy jumped in. “Casey, take me. I saw the videos first. Those are so awesome, man. I’m ready to go anywhere and blow those Jews and faggots off to kingdom come.”

“No, man, forget Freddy. He didn’t even pass fifth grade. I made it up to junior high,” countered Alex.