American Terrorist (The Rayna Tan Action Thrillers Book 1) (24 page)

Jennah burst into the room. “My attacker was a woman, not a man!”

“Why do you say that, honey?” asked Helena, excited at a possible breakthrough.

“I tried so hard to forget but Mary told me I’m crazy. She said no man can have a woman five times in a row. I thought and thought. You remember I said he made me put my hand on him to rub him?”

“Yes,” said the trio in virtual unison.

“I remember that it was soft, not hard. Mary said if it was a man, it would have been hard like rock. Then I think, the hand did not go here.” Jennah pointed to her crotch. “It go here.” She pointed to her chest. “And that’s why I say voice not low. It was a woman! I know that for sure.”

“Fabulous!” exclaimed Helena. “That is just what we needed to know!”

“Okay. I go back now. Mary and we have lots to talk about.” Jennah dashed out of the room.

Barry asked, “How old is Mary?”

“Seven.”

“Well, unless you and Julio are giving sex education lessons instead of reading Snow White, I think you better cut off her internet.”

“I can deal with that,” nodded Helena. “But it is not likely that a woman would be allowed out on a pillage-and-plunder mission.”

“Unless there was a close relationship between the male and female... like brother and sister,” said Rayna softly. “Which could also help explain why the physical descriptions are so close, yet so different.”

“Helena, add that element to the mix and see what you can cook up,” said Barry.

Chapter 30
 

Alex and Freddy were exhausted but exhilarated. They were able to hit up eight convenience stores in two and a half hours. With an average take of seven hundred and fifty bucks, that made the six grand Casey said they needed to prove themselves. Not to mention, they scored twenty burner phones. And driving a vintage T-bird made the day just perfect.
 

Alex spotted Casey standing underneath the concrete overhang and drove up to him. Swaggering out of the car, Alex handed a bulging paper bag to the Middle Eastern redhead.
 

“We got more than the six Gs and twenty burner phones, not ten, twenty! We passed, Casey. You say it, Casey, we’re there. Right?” asked Alex eagerly, with Freddy nodding furiously.
 

Casey shoved all the loot into an army surplus satchel without counting and slung the bag over his shoulder.

“Aren’t you gonna check to make sure the money is there?” asked Freddy, somewhat disappointed.

“Nope. Like I said, money is not what this is about. There is no turning back once you decide to accept the journey. It’s the commitment to the cause.” Casey smiled. “You guys are totally great. You’ve done the deed. Are you willing to commit with the oath?”

“Dude, we’re there,” said Freddy. “

“Okay. So say this after me and you gotta mean it. Otherwise, it’s no good.
La ilaha illa Allah.”

“Wait. We aren’t casting some kind of evil spell or something, are we?” asked Alex. “Sorry for asking. Just...”

“No worries at all. Questions mean you’re not robots but thinking, smart people. Others just say the words and think we’re gonna get them to come and join our mission. No way. So what I want you to tell me is, ‘There is no true god but Allah, and Muhammad is his messenger.’ You cool with that?”

“Yeah,” said Alex and Freddy in unison.

“
La ilaha illa Allah.”

“La ilaha illa Allah,”
repeated Alex and Freddy.

“Muhammadur rasoolu Allah.”

“Muhammadur rasoolu Allah.”

“Congratulations. Now that we are all real brothers, I’m gonna get serious.” He stared at Alex and Freddy’s excited faces. “Why am I really here? Why did I take so long in choosing you? Why did I put you through shit? Don’t lie. You wondered about it, didn’t you?”

Casey let a pregnant pause linger before Alex and Freddy slowly nodded.
 

“It’s okay.” Casey balled his fists and raised them the way he had seen Ahmed do, then announced with authority, “I am here for jihad. I was sent by Ahmed to be the head of the American Muslim Militia. You two are my first soldiers, but I needed to make sure you were ready for war. A good soldier never questions his commanding officer and you did that. A good soldier is willing to put his life on the line and you did that. A good Muslim will pray and affirm his faith and you did that. What does that mean? It means you are able, willing and prepared to stand by me as we light up America!”

Light up America!
“Let’s get started!” yelled Alex enthusiastically.

“From here on in, we buy everything cash and never, ever leave your names or contact info.”
 

“No worries about cash here. Neither of us own credit cards,” said Freddy.

“Yeah, but you use cash machines, ATMs. Cash means cash. When you buy something, never, ever leave your names or phone numbers. Just walk away if they insist.”

“Why don’t we just lie and give them phony names or email addresses, that kind of shit.”

“Because if it’s phony, their computers may reject it, again putting you on the radar. If you use someone else’s ID, sometimes credit card companies phone to check up. More red flags. Cash means cash means cash. Got it?”

The two teenagers nodded. Casey opened the bag of burner phones and wrote down the numbers of each phone. He then gave Freddy and Alex three phones each. “Here’s the deal. Every time you make a call, use a different phone. After three times, turn the phone off and dump it.”

“Somebody still might be able to track things.”

“That’s why we are always absolutely careful.” Casey took out an armed explosive from his knapsack, then set the timer for five minutes.

“Run!” he yelled.

The three blitzed away as quickly as they could. A quarter of a mile later, they touched civilization, stopped and turned around.

BOOM! There was a huge explosion that rocked so hard the concrete overhang collapsed onto the area where the T-Bird would be if its fragments hadn’t blown apart for a hundred-and-fifty-yard radius.

“And that, boys and girls, is what Uncle Casey is going to teach you to do.”

***

Alex walked into the house. Scotty still hadn’t moved although the bottles had been cleaned out.

“So how’s the homo?” sneered Scotty.

“The homo got us a job and we want to rent your truck,” said Alex.

“Oh, so you’re gonna ‘ferry’ stuff around?” Scotty laughed at his stupid joke.

“I’m serious,” said Alex.

“Why the hell should I let you use my van?” burped Scotty, looking especially handsome with his man boobs drooping close to his bulging gut. He took a swig of beer. “Besides, I need it for work.”

“You ain’t worked in a year, asshole,” snapped Alex. “And the reason you want to let me use the van is so I can move my shit outta here and you’ll never see me again.”

“About friggin’ time, you damned freeloader. Give me twenty-five bucks and bring my beauty back in three hours.”

“I’ll give you fifteen and I’ll be back day after tomorrow.”

Scotty’s eyes started to glaze as he slurred, “Deal. Just make sure you put some gas in it, boy.”

“Yeah, right.”

By the time Alex and Freddy started carrying bags of Alex’s stuff to the twenty-year-old fourteen-foot box truck, Scotty had passed out. Tomorrow, he wouldn’t remember the deal and he wouldn’t remember to collect. He might not even remember to wake up after ingesting some of the potion Alex slipped into his last beer to keep him sleeping longer.

***

Casey had proved himself again. Alex had suggested thirty-five bucks as the opening offer but Casey nixed it. It was a reasonable offer, but Casey figured that would raise Scotty’s suspicions and make him ask questions about what Alex was going to do with it, where he was going, cargo, blah, blah, blah. A lowball offer wouldn’t draw Scotty’s attention into anything other than getting more money for himself. And that was what happened.

The trio started driving to Hippieville. Along the way, late night hardware and drug stores became their friends. Not wanting to cause suspicion by buying large amounts, they bought small amounts of acetone, hydrogen peroxide and hydrochloric acid, ammonium nitrate, nitromethane and tovex from any place that had them, which not all of them did. Some of this stuff was pretty common; others were kind of esoteric. They also had to buy more burner phones, wiring, etc. That was easy.

Over beers at the compound, Casey outlined the next day’s activities. “Okay, we start early tomorrow. We’re gonna hit hardware stores, agriculture shops, drug stores, hobby shops, big box retailers... all of them. Let’s hope we can get everything after the first couple of loads.”

“Why?”

A wicked grin crossed Casey’s face. “Cuz when we get back, I’m gonna show you guys how to put bombs together and we are gonna put together one mother of an arsenal. And, naturally, we want to try them out!”

Now that was a plan.

Chapter 31
 

“Geraldine! Open up, it’s Irene and Gladys from church,” shouted silver-haired Irene Wooding as she banged on the front door of the petite rural cottage that looked like it was right out of a Grant Wood painting.

“She’s not here, Irene,” said her traveling church companion, Gladys.

“Well, I don’t like this. She hasn’t answered the phone since she picked up Sabiya at the airport. I tell you, Gladys, that refugee was no good. She probably killed Geraldine and ran off with her money and car. I knew it wasn’t good idea to let all those... those... people in.” Irene was so angry Gladys thought she might burst a vein.

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound? Just like those crazy Americans who see a terrorist under every turban. Let’s just wait here a few more hours and I’m sure she’ll show up.”

“I’m crazy? You’re crazy. No phone calls. No internet. No contact with her kids and grandkids. Nobody here. I’m calling the RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police).”

“If you do, make sure you don’t mention my name. I don’t want to be embarrassed.”

“Gladys, stop worrying about being embarrassed. If I’m wrong, and I hope I am, the worst that has happened is you have had a wonderful drive to the country with your best friend. If I’m right... God help us.”

***

Three hours later, the cabin had been broken into and the RCMP had launched a full-scale investigation into the death of Reverend Geraldine Swanson and the whereabouts of the Syrian refugee she had taken in.

After Irene’s phone call, Officer Sharon Cardinal, one of the two RCMP officers assigned to go to the cottage to “humor the little old ladies,” noticed a gap of six feet in the almost continuous roadside greenery. Officer Cardinal asked her partner to stop the patrol car so she could investigate.

The two discovered the charred hulk of Geraldine’s burned-out Toyota. This began a two-tiered investigation. The first was of the scene itself. Forensic investigative specialists were choppered to the location. The second was to Canadian immigration authorities.

There was little point in keeping Irene and Gladys so the two started driving back to Toronto.

“You were right, Irene,” said Gladys solemnly as her eyes focused on the road.

“They haven’t found anything yet,” said Irene, suddenly bursting into tears. “Omigod. Did you hear that scientist from Toronto they flew in? He said he can’t find any fragments of tooth or bone and without them there is no way to get DNA for identification. He said there’s always a bit somewhere!”

“They’ll find something. They’re going to bring everything back to Toronto and go through it with a fine tooth comb.”

“They won’t find anything. Let’s face it. It’s about time we all admit the terrorists are smarter than we are.”

Chapter 32
 

Fatima loved being back in the United States. While she had visited Los Angeles and San Francisco when she and Ahmed were college students, back then she wasn’t able to fully appreciate the experience—although life then was a party, the controlling hand of her father still managed to make itself felt. Now free of those shackles, and with some money, everything seemed more vibrant, more exciting. Her brief stint in Los Angeles was primarily work-related but in San Francisco? Yes, there was a job to do but she planned to enjoy herself more. Everything in San Francisco seemed more modern—more liberating.

Fatima made a bold decision as she made her way to San Francisco International Airport—she and Ahmed would reflect this contemporary attitude. No traditional thawbs, no traditional headgear, no hiding of her face. It was a calculated gamble. While this would undoubtedly alienate certain more conservative Muslims, Fatima was looking for an edge, something that would make the American Muslim Militia stand out as different.
 

As Ahmed exited into the main lobby, they embraced with the obligatory bear hug greeting. Then she announced, “We are going shopping.”

Like most men, Ahmed hated shopping but Fatima would not be deterred. They entered an Italian designer shop in the airport shopping area.
 

When they left an hour later, they were an international power couple. A three-thousand dollar tan outfit on Fatima, a twenty-five-hundred dollar navy suit on Ahmed, two-hundred-fifty dollar sunglasses for both. No one on any planet would ever mistake them for terrorists.

“Such a pity,” said Fatima as they approached their black stretch limo.

“Why do you say that?” asked her brother.

“We spent all this time getting dressed and...”

The chauffeur opened the door to reveal two scantily clad, full bosomed vixens. “As ordered. A blonde, 34-D, eighteen years old but very experienced and a brunette, breasts not so ample, but a butt full of meat and ready for a manly grip. And one young Adonis.”

“We spent all this time getting dressed and it’s all going to come off in thirty seconds.” Fatima giggled as Adonis pulled her inside.
 

Ahmed needed no such encouraging and his pants were off before the door closed.

“Will two bottles of iced Dom Perignon be sufficient? And, of course, an assortment of our local micro-breweries offerings, again personally tested for quality control purposes.”