Bishop's War (Bishop Series Book 1) (11 page)

Chapter 13

The Khans

The mountains of Eastern Afghanistan

Aziz Khan sat
on an old ammo crate with his elbows resting on a rough wooden table. He was in a small chamber within a large cave high in the mountains. The caves had been ideal for evading the Russians, who rarely left the cities or the main roads. They tried and failed to win the war by air power. The Americans, especially the Green Berets and Army Rangers lived in the mountains and were better fighters than the Russians, though far less ruthless. Aziz had a network of these caves throughout his country and they all had secret passages and escape routes. It allowed him and his men to go through the mountains instead of around them like their enemies.

He knew he needed glasses, but considered them a luxury item he could live without. Although Aziz made millions from his poppy fields and heroin labs in the south, he took nothing for himself. The money bought weapons and was distributed to those in his territory that needed it most. He lived as the poorest of his people did. His clothes were worn and dirty; his boots were scratched and needed resoling. He didn’t smoke, drank coffee for breakfast, and ate little. Refusing to sleep in a bed, each night he lay on his father’s old rug, which had been his father’s before him. Aziz lived only for war.

A portable generator powered the lights that hung on the jagged stone walls and allowed him to read computer printouts describing the failed operation in New York. After squinting at the fine print he stared long and hard at the mug shots of his nephew before re-reading the description of how Amir had been arrested two days before the attack.

Aziz worked hard at staying calm and in control. He had learned from seeing so many men die early deaths by acting in anger and letting their emotions cloud their judgment. He put the papers down and sat for twenty minutes in silence.

His trusted lieutenants sat on thick rugs along the cave wall waiting patiently for orders. They followed him unconditionally and respected how deliberate he was in everything he did. Deliberate in his calculations and decisive in his actions.

He stood up and summoned his men. “Send in Omar,” he said simply.

The curtain at the entrance of the chamber parted and a small figure seemed to glide across the stone floor. Omar the Blade, also known as the Sword of Allah, was Aziz’s top assassin. A killer who focused only on selected high value targets. Omar had never failed to execute an assignment.

The only discernible features were Omar’s black lifeless eyes. Everything else was covered by a turban, mask, thick robes, and soft boots. Even the hands were gloved. Except for Aziz, every man in the room stiffened slightly in the presence of such an instrument of death.

“Assalaam alaikum (Peace be upon you).”

“Waalaikum assalaam (And peace also upon you),” replied Aziz.

“My target?”

“Targets. First, Amir Khan,” Aziz said without emotion. He had already determined that his nephew must die and actually felt annoyed that he was still alive. “And then his second, Khalid Mulan.”

“It will take several days to get to New York.”

“May Allah keep you safe in your travels. This will assist you in finding them.” Aziz handed over a CD that had photos and backgrounds on all of Amir’s known contacts and the location of all his safe houses.

“Is that all my lord Khan?”

“The American Hero,” Aziz added nonchalantly. “We must redeem ourselves from this set back. The media is calling us incompetent and unprofessional. Perception is everything when it comes to public opinion and his meddling caused…” Aziz paused for a moment. “Make an example of him. A bloody public statement as retribution for his interference.”

“Does he not remain unknown?” Omar asked.

“It does for now, but his name will surface in the next few days. Someone will identify his picture and we will have our man.”

“And then so will I. It will be done.”

“May Allah protect you,” Aziz said.

“And you,” Omar said without looking back, gliding silently out of the room.

Brooklyn, New York

With six thousand seven hundred and fifty-five miles between them, Amir Khan had been reading the same news clippings at the same moment that his uncle was. He put the papers down and thought about his Uncle Aziz. Amir knew he was a dead man and figured he had a week to live if that. If he could keep all his local cells insulated and prevent any direct contact with leadership back home then his own men wouldn’t be the ones that killed him. They would send someone though. That would give him at least a week, or maybe more if he was careful. And that was time enough to get even.

The throbbing in his nose was now a minor annoyance compared to the searing pain that made him tremble with every breath. He was fortunate that he had been turned sideways when the bullet tore through the hood of the cab. If he were facing straight ahead it would have killed him on the spot. Instead, it made a deep gouge right below his chest that broke two ribs before it went through the bicep of his left arm.

After being wounded he ran west on 16th Street and jumped into a cab on Fifth Avenue. He’d made it to a safe house in New Jersey where he was patched up before being moved to this hideout in Brooklyn.

He stood up shakily and looked himself over in the full length mirror. He had a broken nose, two black eyes, fifteen stitches in his chest, two broken ribs, his left arm was swollen tight and seeping blood from both the entry and exit wounds and his right Achilles tendon was throbbing steadily. He looked like shit and felt even worse. The only thing that kept him going was his rage and his need for revenge.

It wasn’t until he was alone and replaying the events that he realized the man that shot him was the soldier from his jail cell. It had to be a coincidence, just bad luck, but he had no doubt it was the same man. The pictures in the paper showing the scarred face had just confirmed what he already knew.

Everything was put on hold and the “unknown hero” was his new mission. He now had to kill this soldier before Aziz killed him.

He sent all the cell members out in their cabs in hopes of spotting the soldier in downtown Manhattan and each had a picture of him taped to their dash board. It was a long shot, but it kept all his men busy and out of contact with Aziz. He felt he was due for some good luck anyway after such a string of unfortunate events.

Part of him knew that he should stay on plan and hit the other targets as scheduled, but his need for revenge consumed him. Once the soldier was dead he could then launch the next round of public attacks if there was time. Time, as much as the soldier, was now his enemy.

Amir had taped an enlarged photo to the wall and he hawked a gob of yellow phlegm that hit John right in the face this time. Amir winced in pain from the sudden movement as he watched his spit roll down the black and white photograph of his nemesis.

“I am coming for you soldier,” he said aloud. “I am coming.”

Chapter 14

Planning

Brooklyn, New York

Like Aziz and
Amir, Gonzalo Valdez was reading the papers and watching the news.

“Didn’t I tell them to stay out of the papers? They never listen to me,” he said more to himself than to the others in the room. His brothers, Sesa, Carlos, Macho, Victor, Fiero, and Calixto and his nephew Antonio were all sitting quietly in leather seats surrounding a large glass coffee table as Gonzalo watched another report on CNN.

“Okay,” he said.

He turned off the TV, stood up, and walked over to the window. They were in a twentieth floor penthouse apartment with a spectacular view of the East River and the sun setting behind the Manhattan skyline.

“They have his picture, but not his name,” Macho said.

“They will soon. This story is too big and too many people know who he is. By tomorrow, if not sooner, they will name him,” Fiero said.

“Yes, Fiero. One day or less,” added Gonzalo. “Where are they now?”

“John dropped off Maria at her mother’s house and met Felix at his place. They’re still there and Chris is with them,” Antonio said, looking over to his Uncle Macho, Chris’ father.

“How many men do you have watching them Antonio?” Gonzalo asked.

“Six Tio. Three on each of them.”

“Make it twenty. Keep an eye on any cars driving in the area and take down license plates. Let’s not take any chances. If anyone even appears threatening have them taken out. These people are walking bombs so shoot first and ask questions later. Your only job now is protecting the boys. Me entiendes?”

“Yes Tio,” he said.

No one spoke on a phone when Gonzalo was present so Antonio got up and walked out of the room. He called Benji Medina who was down the block from Felix’s place and passed on the orders to expand the security team and gave the green light to engage. He came back with news.

“They’re on the way. We’ll have the area completely covered in ten minutes.”

“Good,” Carlos said.

“The Feds are there too,” Antonio said. “Benji said they had cars on Felix and more were following John when he arrived.”

“Interesting, very interesting,” Gonzalo said. “Let’s think about what that means later, but first the main threat. These terrorists worry me. If their leader is still alive he will come at John and Felix with everything he’s got once their names are released.”

“He’s a fugitive. Won’t he just run for home?” Carlos asked.

“He has no home now. He’s a dead man walking,” Antonio said.

“Very good, Antonio. Yes, you see it,” Gonzalo said, while Sesa beamed with pride at his son’s understanding of the situation.

“Not sure I do,” Calixto said.

“He embarrassed his organization. He got arrested right before his mission and his mission failed. In one of two ways he will die shortly. One, his men here will kill him on orders from their superiors. Or two, if his power is very strong here, they will send a hitter from back home to take him out. Either way he’s a dead man. So we must plan for the worst case,” Gonzalo said.

“That he has loyal followers here and they will target John and Felix?” asked Antonio.

“Yes, in part. But, the worst case is he and his men come after your cousins and his superiors also give their names to their assassins. The same ones who may be coming to kill this local terrorist leader may also come after the boys.”

“So we may have two separate threats coming at us from the same organization,” Antonio said.

“Four threats,” Gonzalo said.

“Four?” asked Calixto.

“Four. The two separate threats from the terrorists and then there is this Michael Meecham who I hear has made a vendetta against us.”

“That’s only three,” said Carlos.

Gonzalo looked over at Antonio, waiting for his prized pupil and heir to the throne to answer.

“The fourth is our own government,” Antonio said.

“Yes, exactly. We don’t know where they stand. And there are many agencies at work here. CIA, FBI, NSA, ATF, Homeland Security, local police and who knows who else. Are they simply using John as bait, or do they have a more sinister agenda towards him?” Gonzalo raised his hand dismissively before anyone could speak. “I know they are coming for me now, but first we protect the boys. Nothing else matters.”

“You can be just as effective from Mexico or Brazil, mi hermano,” Sesa said. It was the first time he had spoken as he was a man of few words. Gonzalo paused before answering. Sesa had tremendous vision and Gonzalo would not be where he was today, or even alive for that matter, if not for the counsel of his older brother.

“We’re at war now, and I can’t leave until these threats to them are completely wiped out. I’d gladly spend the rest of my life prison in order to keep them safe. After, if there is an after for me, I’ll leave. But not now. Now we plan and review.”

“Okay, this Meecham,” Gonzalo said. “Find out everything you can. The police captain told John and Felix that he’s coming after them. That means he’s also coming us, la familia Valdez, so we go after him, too. He’s an evil one, and must have made many enemies over the years. Find them. Once we have more information we’ll meet again and decide his fate.”

“Let’s get our intelligence people studying these terrorist organizations. None have claimed responsibility for the attack because it failed. Still, we should look into them. See if we can find any patterns that will help us against them,” Victor said.

“Excellent. Next, your men, Antonio. Tell me who you have and who else we may want to bring in,” Gonzalo said.

Antonio gave him a detailed run down of every man he had, discussing their strengths and weaknesses.

“Let’s call the Bank Robbers. They’re the best planners I know and they helped us in our past wars,” Fiero said.

“Yes, but they don’t rob banks anymore. They work only as consultants now. Double their fee and if they’re already on an assignment triple it. I want them working for us full time until this is over,” Gonzalo said. Fiero nodded and left the room to make the call.

Once Gonzalo was satisfied and Sesa also nodded his approval he stood up and stretched. Pouring a glass of water for each of them he said, “Now we start again. See if we missed anything. Now we are planning and studying the board. Soon we will act, but without planning we can never make the correct move. So let us begin again.”

Chapter 15

Pro KEDSS

Queens, NY

Kevin Mitchell pulled
back the heavy curtain and looked out of the window for the third time. He huffed and resumed pacing back and forth in the spacious living room.

“Where the hell is he? We’re on the clock now.”

“Easy Kev. He’ll be here soon,” Danny Jones said.

“
Easy
? The Valdez Boys are at war D. That means that as of two hours ago so are we. Gonzalo doesn’t like excuses, especially when it comes to his family.”

Remembering Tom Tom and Skeeta Davis and knowing what Gonzalo still did to them every year, Danny nodded his head in agreement. They had helped plan the abduction of the brothers after Gonzalo’s sister had been killed. Danny had even designed the underground dungeon which was now their permanent home in Mexico.

Danny was sitting on a chocolate brown leather couch with his legs stretched out in front of him staring intently at a scuff on the tip of his black cowboy boots. Kevin was halfway through another lap across the room when Ed Taylor pulled into the driveway and hurried through the door.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late,” he said when he came in.

“Where the fuck were you?” Kevin asked.

“Upstate. Hit traffic on the way in.”

“We’ve got full time work now. Fiero called. We’re on retainer indefinitely and he tripled our rate,” Kevin said.

“Sweet. Who are the Valdez boys at war with now?”

“Whoever’s behind Union Square,” Danny said.

“No shit?” Ed said. It wasn’t really a question.

“No shit,” Kevin replied.

“Glad we’re getting paid, but I would’ve done this work for free. We’ve got a brother in the White House fellas. He’s already got enough on his plate without these terrorists runnin’ round blowing up shit in our own town. We’re working for Gonzalo, but I’m doing everything I can to help the black man with the plan.”

“I’m with you on that,” Kevin said.

“Let’s get to work,” said Danny.

All three were well dressed and in their early fifties. They were a tight knit team that had robbed over sixty banks around the world over the last thirty years. None of them had done any time, or even been arrested. They were that good.

Master planners and experts at identifying weaknesses in security, between bank heists they worked as consultants for the Valdez family, Columbian and Mexican Cartels and African Dictators. After each of them put away several million dollars they gave up robbing and became full time security professionals.

They called their highly specialized and very secret consulting company Pro KEDSS, which stood for Kevin, Ed and Danny’s Specialty Services. Kevin had an engineering degree from MIT, Ed learned combat tactics and demolition as a Force Recon Marine, and Danny was a computer genius capable of hacking into any system. Together they made a formidable team and now made more money protecting governments, crime families, and even banks than they ever did stealing.

“Here or in the van?” Danny asked.

“Let’s start here and then go mobile later tonight. We’ll sit down with Gonzalo and his brothers tomorrow morning, but we’ve got a lot of work to do between now and then and we’re already behind schedule thanks to me,” Ed said.

They all turned when the motion sensors around the house sent a vibration through the room.

“That’s the cavalry,” Danny said, looking at the surveillance monitor. “This job may get bloody so Fiero sent over Christmas, Boogie and Minty. I told them to tool up in case things get hot right away,”

Danny opened the front door and three rough looking men walked in. They each brought something heavy to the war: themselves. Christmas was an ex-Navy SEAL, Boogie had been a CIA operative for years specializing in wet work, and Minty spent twelve years in the French Foreign Legion. They were the elite fighting force within Gonzalo’s army.

They each carried duffel bags and merely nodded their heads in greeting, as they were in the midst of a heated discussion.

“You shouldn’t even be talkin’ since you ain’t never had game to begin with,” Minty Jackson said. They called him Minty because of his bright green eyes. He was five-seven, with a barrel chest and massive arms from his daily morning workout of a thousand dips and a thousand pushups before breakfast

“I’m a fan of the game motherfucker. Just ‘cause you played a little ball don’t make you no authority on this here. And don’t start with your shit about how many points you scored back in the day,” Boogie Washington said. Everyone called him Boogie because he ran ten miles a day rain or shine. Tall at six four, his frame was lean and wiry.

“Neither one of you knows shit about the Knicks so your opinions don’t count,” said Randal ‘Christmas’ Owens, who was also in tremendous shape from a combination of muay thai kick boxing and Brazilian jiu jitsu.

“What’re ya’ll squabblin’ over?” Danny asked.

“Best Knick all time,” Christmas said.

“Any position?”

“Yep.”

“For me it’s Frazier,” Danny said.

“You see? Here’s a man knows what he’s talkin’ about.” Christmas gave Danny a high five.

“I still say it’s Patrick. Stats don’t lie and he’s the all-time leading scorer.”

“Fuck the stats. I’ve got Frazier, Monroe, and Bernard all ahead of Patrick,” Boogie said.

“Don’t we have work to do?” Minty asked.

“Yeah we do,” Kevin answered.

“Are we rollin’ out now or are you guys headed downstairs?” Christmas asked.

“We’re going down for an hour or two, but we’ll give you a heads up before it’s time to move out unless something jumps off,” Ed said.

“Cool. We’ll recheck our gear. Hey, I’m sure you already know, but we take our orders directly from you on this Op… unless.”

“Unless?”

“Unless from a military perspective the three of us feel your leadership skills are lacking.”

“Then what?”

“If there’s time we contact Fiero. If there’s not we try to work it out between us. If we can’t all agree to the best course of action we stand down. Look, this is just worst case scenario shit. We know you guys are pros and we’re not here to second guess you. We cool?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Fiero already broke it down to me and Danny, but I wanted to hear it from you directly and make sure Ed heard it too.”

“Okay then.”

“What’re you packing?” Kevin asked.

“We’ve got it all. MP 5’s with sound suppressors, a Harris M86 sniper rifle, grenades, Claymores, lots of hand guns. We’ve even got a .50 cal that can knock out a truck or take down a steel door from half a mile away. We’re under your command for this op, but I’m sure you already know that if we light off any of the heavy stuff the whole world’s gonna take notice. How do you see this going down?” Christmas asked.

“We’ve always tried to be subtle and silent when it comes to ending lives, but you’re weapons free on this. Terminate with extreme prejudice by any and all means necessary.”

“Good. The opposition?”

“Right now we’re estimating enemy strength at between fifty and a hundred split up into small two to five man teams. That’s really just a guestimate, but we can’t picture more than that or they would’ve had security leaks by know. A hundred max, but I bet it’s less than half that. The numbers work for you?”

“Yeah, no problem. The three of us can handle that many and I’ve got four more deadly motherfuckers on standby, locked, loaded, and ready to roll in case we need ‘em. Main problem I see is finding these assholes. They sure ain’t gonna charge us all at once. How you gonna draw ‘em out?”

“Working on that.”

“Cool. Now, some a these terrorists are gonna be experienced fighters from back home, but a good number of ‘em are probably just true believers whose only trigger time’s been on a shooting range. That said, we ain’t taking ‘em lightly. These dudes blow themselves up,” Christmas said.

“Understood. We’ll have more info for you soon, Christmas, but for now you guys just sit tight.”

“You got it, Kev.”

“Let’s get it on,” Kevin said as he pressed in the eye of a large samurai warrior statue three times. A section of the wall slid away, revealing a reinforced steel door. He entered another code on the frame and it too silently opened inwards.

Kevin, Ed and Danny walked through the doorway and down the rubber padded steps that led to the basement. The room looked like the control center at NASA or NORAD. Every wall was covered with multiple giant screens and there were three consoles set up on the inner side of a large C shaped desk. They each sat down in wheeled captain’s chairs and began typing furiously.