Bishop's War (Bishop Series Book 1) (13 page)

“Though never convicted, Valdez and his syndicate have been linked to countless murders, in addition to drug dealing, and gambling. It is unknown what role Mr. Bishop plays in his Uncle’s crime family. Although hailed as a hero for his actions in Union Square, Mr. Bishop, who resides at 215 E. 7th Street in Manhattan, is a person of interest and may face indictment by several law enforcement agencies.”

All the news networks had similar stories. They continued to cover the terror attack in detail, but they all insinuated that John was a career criminal rather than a war hero. One network even suggested that he had been dishonorably discharged and may have worked with the terrorists before turning on them at the last minute in order to regain his hero status. There were also pictures of Felix and reports that he assaulted responding police officers during the Union Square attack. They called him a known gangster and a street thug convicted of armed robbery and murder.

“Shit,” Felix and John said at the same time.

Brooklyn, NY

Amir was hoping his luck would change and it did in a big way. Five minutes before the news cast came on and gave him the name of his target he received a call giving him the soldier’s exact location. One of his men stopped for coffee and was sitting in his cab right outside Still Bar when John and Felix stepped out for air. Taking his time to make sure, his man confirmed it was Bishop, carefully noting the scar on the right side of his face.

Excited by this golden opportunity, Amir’s pain was gone, masked by the adrenaline rushing through him. He got his people moving and his top man Khalid Mulan was waiting downstairs in a Lincoln Town Car with darkly tinted windows. As he walked out the door he spoke to the picture on the wall.

“As Allah is my witness, I will watch you and your cousin die tonight John Bishop.”

Chapter 17

Nothing

Still Bar, Downtown Manhattan

John’s phone rang
and he saw it was Captain Ryan.

“John, Jimmy here. How you holding up Sarge?”

“Pretty pissed off Cap. Our names being out there are bad enough, but they’re practically calling me a terrorist and Felix, Al Capone.”

“I checked around and this smear campaign comes directly from Meecham,” Ryan said.

“Fuck me.”

“Yeah, well that’s exactly what he’s trying to do. I told you he’d come after you and believe me he’s just getting started. I’ll bet he’s got copies of your service record with his people going over every page to see where they can hurt you.”

“Anything else?”

“Just that he’s angling to get indictments against Felix and your Uncle.”

“What are the charges?”

“He’s still fishing. Trying for assaulting an officer against Felix, combined with a RICO indictment against them both. My guess is he’ll try to convict them in the press first, then force the DA and the Justice Department to do his dirty work.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“That he is. Look, I’ve contacted friends in the press and told them this story is pure bull, but these people are sharks and they smell blood in the water.”

“But none of this is true!”

“John, I learned long ago that truth and the news are mutually exclusive. All these people do is try to sell more ad space or get higher ratings, the truth be damned.”

“Okay, thanks Jimmy, I’ll be in touch.”

“Same here. I’ll let you know if I hear more.”

The place had cleared out as it was now approaching midnight. There were only two people sitting at the front of the bar speaking with the bartender, but John still moved Felix, Chris and Bunny to the back room to talk in private. He passed on everything that Ryan had said and stopped to think for a minute.

“You know, he never asked me where I was.”

“So,” Chris said.

“I think he already knows,” he said taking off his belt. He examined it closely and found the small incision where the microphone and GPS tracker had been inserted. He found an identical device attached to the battery in his cell phone and one more in his wallet.

“These are the only items that I had with me when we were held at Homeland Security. How about you?” he asked Felix.

They only found two on Felix since he’d put on a new belt. All five devices were state of the art. They put them all in a bag and Chris took them to the front of the bar where the music was loudest.

Felix shook his head. “Who’s tracking us?”

“We can’t know for sure. Meecham maybe? Director Kolter just to keep tabs? Question is, are they using us as bait so this Amir and his guys come after us, or are they trying to get some dirt on us for an indictment?”

Having already seen their Glock 19’s when they took their belts off Bunny said, “I’m glad to see you guys are armed. Saves me the trouble of getting you outfitted, but from here on I’m on both of you night and day. Twenty-four hour security.”

“Thanks Bunny, appreciate your help.”

“What about me? I can help too,” Chris said.

“Chris, I know you want in on this, but you don’t have the training. Not yet anyway. You can be a huge help though. Get to Tio and tell him what’s going on here. Being the master planner that he is I’m sure he saw all this coming and probably has guys outside watching us. Still, make sure he knows everything,” John said.

“Okay, I’ll call dad and find Tio. Hey, before I go, can I get a picture of the three of you?”

They were posing for photos along the far wall when shots rang out in front of the bar. All three had their guns drawn when a man staggered in spitting blood with an explosive device strapped to his body. Bunny and John fired a moment ahead of Felix, and Chris reflexively pressed the button on his mini camera. They saw the terrorist falling backwards from their three head shots right before the bomb detonated. There was no place to hide and no time to move. The blast came at them like a sonic freight train… There was nothing after that.

Chapter 18

National Security

Washington D.C.

The president, along
with his National Security Advisor, the Directors of the CIA, NSA, FBI, Homeland Security, the Secretaries of State and Defense and several generals, including Palmer, were all seated in the Situation Room of the White House for the late night meeting. They all listened intently to the translation of the tape recovered from the hut in Afghanistan.

“Tony, what’s your assessment?” the president asked Director Kolter.

“Mr. President, that tape has given us some valuable intelligence. We know that Aziz Khan is behind the attack in New York and is responsible for the death of our five operators in Khost Province. After debriefing Colonel Edwards and examining the timeline it is clear that General Gulam Mohammed of the Pakistani ISI is Khan’s ally and warned him that our troops were on the way. It is also clear that it was Khan’s nephew, whose alias is Amir Rashad, who planned and led the attack in New York.”

“What do we know about Khan?”

Bill Webster, the CIA Director, fielded the question. “Mr. President, Aziz Khan is a powerful warlord from eastern Afghanistan. We armed and trained him and his militia to fight the Russians. After that war ended he carved out a big piece of territory for himself and was close to taking over the whole country. We estimate he has about four thousand men under his command. He has strong tribal ties and even blood relations in Pakistan. He finances his army through heroin production and distribution, but takes nothing for himself. Reports are that he lives in a network of mountain caves and gives all his wealth to his men and the local population. Khan is a devout Muslim with strong ties to both the Taliban and Al Qaeda, but he’s fiercely independent and nationalistic and takes orders from no one. Bottom line, sir, he is one tough and ruthless S.O.B. who views war as a way of life.”

“How do we catch him?”

“Sir,” said General Palmer, “we definitely missed a great opportunity to capture or kill him last week. To be candid, Mr. President, we have no idea where he is now. I would suggest we try tracking him through the Pakistani traitor, General Mohammed.”

“We are working on that now Mr. President,” Director Kolter said.

“Gentlemen, we are fighting wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. We barely survived the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression and we have just endured another terrorist attack in New York. Word will soon get out that the attack is the work of an Afghan warlord with Al Qaeda ties. Aziz Khan will be called the next Bin Laden. We need a win here. Somewhere. Where are we with the nephew Amir Khan?”

“We’re building from the ground up, Mr. President,” said Terry Hall. “We recovered a lot of evidence they didn’t expect us to find. They had military grade C4 and lots of it. We recovered three hundred pounds of it from the flower truck alone. We are tracking that with the help of ATF and we should know its origination very shortly. As to the whereabouts of Amir Khan, that information is unknown at this time, but we are using every resource including the media to track him down, sir.”

“Thank God Sergeant Bishop was taking a stroll through that park. If that truck bomb had gone off thousands would have died.”

“We’re tailing him, sir, just in case the Khan’s go after him,” Kolter said.

“We’re using him as bait?”

“Not exactly. We’ve got mikes and trackers on him and we’re following from a distance. If anything we’re protecting him. If Amir crawls out of his hole and makes a try for Bishop we’ll be there to stop and arrest him. It’s a long shot anyway, but so far our sergeant has been in the thick of things, so we’re sticking to him.”

“Don’t let anything happen to that young man.”

“Yes sir.”

Cell phones around the room went off simultaneously.

“Mr. President, there’s been another bombing in New York.”

“God damn it! Where?”

“The terrorists went after Sergeant Bishop and his cousin directly. They blew up a bar in downtown Manhattan where they were having drinks. The entire building was destroyed. The number of casualties is still unknown sir. We had surveillance teams on site and video is coming in now,” Terry Hall said.

They all looked over at the giant wall monitor. The video was shot from the roof of a surveillance van parked across the street from Still Bar. It showed a cab pulling up in front and a man exiting the back door with a large explosive device wrapped around his torso. Before the terrorist reached the bar’s front door two men ran towards him and shot him multiple times. Badly wounded, he still managed to stagger inside. As the first of the gunmen put his hand on the door handle he disappeared in the bright light of the huge explosion that blew outwards and across the street directly towards the camera.

In the aftermath the two-story building was completely demolished. Cars were smashed and burning, and even the street itself was ripped up. The camera panned to show the wide path of destruction. The adjoining buildings were on fire and debris floated in the smoke-filled air.

“Son of a bitch!” the president shouted. After a brief pause he asked, “Terry, were those your men caught in the blast? The ones shooting?”

“No sir. We believe the uncle had his own security team watching them.”

“So even with FBI agents and a private security team for protection these terrorists can’t be stopped. They’re executing our citizens while we watch and take pictures.”

“Mr. President, although your trip to New York is still a secret, I strongly recommend that you postpone it until after we get these guys.”

“I think my surprise visit to the U.N. will show the world that we won’t be intimidated. I’ll be there tomorrow, Terry, but I still want it kept under wraps until my arrival.”

“Very well, sir. If you’ll excuse me I need to get up there. I’m going back to New York to be on scene,” Terry said and stood up to leave.

“Gloves off, Terry. The Patriot Act enables you to execute no knock warrants on any persons of interest. Use it. We all know what’s at stake here, gentleman. They’ve brought the war home to us. These terrorists must be stopped immediately. Killed or captured I don’t care which. Do you have all the resources that you need?”

“I could use a hundred more agents.”

“Done. Now let me be clear. We’ve all seen the movie ‘Siege’ with Denzel. I’d hate to have life imitate art here; however, we will declare Martial Law in New York if we don’t get some quick results. Understood?”

“Yes, Mr. President. I will give you an assessment once I get there, sir.

“Very well.”

“Special Ops teams, Terry?” General Palmer asked.

“On standby, so I can use them if I need them, General.”

“Keep me updated regardless of the time.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Terry said as he rushed out of the room with General Palmer at his side. They were both on their cell phones giving terse commands as they headed towards the FBI helo that was revved and waiting.

Chapter 19

We’re On Our Way

Brooklyn, NY

The Valdez brothers
and Antonio were watching the news reports about John, Felix, and Gonzalo.

“We expected their names to be released, but this? What is this mierda they are saying about them?” asked Fiero.

“This must be Meecham,” Gonzalo said. “They even gave out John’s address.”

From across the river a huge fire ball rose above the skyline. They all stared at Manhattan in silence, fearing the worst.

Antonio saw the call on the cell phone that was only used for the most extreme emergencies. He didn’t bother to leave the room this time and knew it was bad news before he picked it up. The breach in security protocol alerted all the brothers that something was indeed very wrong. Antonio’s face was ashen as he listened to Benji. Then he simply said, “We’re on our way,” and hung up.

He turned to his father and his uncles.

“A bomber got out of a cab in front of the bar where John, Felix and Chris were. My men shot him in the street… but he… he got inside and detonated. The building was destroyed,” Antonio said, trying to keep hold of his emotions.

Carlos and Macho exploded out of their seats and ran out of the room to get to their sons. The others raced close behind. Antonio stumbled after them, but Gonzalo pulled him aside.

“Whatever has happened is not your fault, Antonio. We all approved your security measures.”

“But Tio I should have…” Antonio said helplessly, his eyes welling up with tears.

Gonzalo cut him off with a crisp slap to the face and said, “No tears and no weakness. We are at war. Learn from this moment, Antonio. Let us pray they are alive, but whatever the outcome, make sure this night has made you stronger. To be the head of a family, to lead
this
family, you have to be stronger than everyone else. Even when you don’t want to be. Learn from this and remember, we still must find and kill our enemies.”

They quickly embraced each other and then hurried out of the room, racing to the city to discover the fate of the three cousins.

Queens, NY

Kev, Ed and Danny were all watching the CNN reports about John, Felix and Gonzalo while they continued their research. All three stopped multitasking and stiffened when they heard the first reports of another bombing. Kevin’s cell phone rang. The only people who had the new number were his partners sitting next to him, the soldiers upstairs, and the Valdez brothers.

“This is bad news, fellas,” he said before answering. He picked up and listened to the steely, heavily accented voice on the other end.

“We’re on our way, Fiero,” was his only response.

“They blew up John, Felix, and young Chris at a bar downtown in front of the FBI and Antonio’s security team.”

“Motherfuckers,” Danny said.

“Chris… isn’t he Macho’s son?” Ed asked.

“Yep.”

“We went to his baptism.”

“Yep.”

“Are they all gone for sure?” asked Danny.

“No confirmation, but it don’t look good. Let’s mount up. Grab the gear. I’ll brief our soldiers and get the van started,” Kevin said. He ran up the stairs shouting to Christmas and his men.

They all knew that their mission intensity level was now off the charts. The three of them had to do what all the branches of law enforcement were trying to accomplish with the government’s unlimited resources: find every person involved in the bombings. The catch was that Kevin, Ed and Danny had to find them first.

Upper East Side, Manhattan

Maria was printing out the travel itineraries for her and John’s weeklong trip. She was sitting at her father’s desk when she heard a groan and dishes breaking in the living room. She rushed in to see what happened and saw her mother on her knees sobbing in front of the television. The cup of tea and the plate of cookies she had been holding lay broken and scattered across the wood floor.

Maria didn’t comprehend what she was seeing at first. Her vision was blurry as she stared at the images of the collapsed and burning buildings. From someplace far away she barely heard the voice of the reporter repeatedly saying the name John Bishop. Then her father ran in and put his arms around her. The fog cleared in her head and Maria let out a primal scream.

“Nooooooooo!”

The phone rang and Maria’s father passed her to her mother before he took the call. He stared into his little girl’s fearful eyes as he listened to the voice on the other end.

“We’re on our way,” he said softly.

“That was Antonio. A suicide bomber blew up the bar where the boys were drinking.”

“He’s not dead, Daddy. Johnny can’t be dead. Not now.”

“I know, baby. I know. Get dressed. We’re all going down there.”

LES

The boys were known by everyone and word traveled fast through the neighborhood.

“What up fellas?”

“Yo dog, you heard what happened to Chris?

“Nah, what?”

“Those jihad motherfuckers blew him up. Him and his cousins.”

“Chris? You serious?

“Dead serious.”

“Those motherfuckas.”

“When?”

“’Bout half an hour ago.”

“Where at?”

“At that bar up on Third Ave. We’re on our way up there now. See if we can help.”

“And find out who needs to get got.”

“You packin’?”

“Fo sho. Locked and loaded.”

“Wait up, lemme get mine. Call the rest of the fellas. Tell ‘em to tool up and meet us there.”

“I’m on it.”

Hundreds of people, both family and friends rushed to the scene in cars, on bikes and on foot.

Atlantic Ocean, 75 miles off the East coast of the United States

They were headed to Andrews Air Force base in Maryland when the pilot patched the call through. Bear was stone faced. He listened without saying a word.

“We’re on our way, sir,” Bear said and hung up the phone. The Air Force transport made a sharp turn northwards.

“Listen up.”

“What’s up, Chief?”

Bear’s voice was monotone. Each sentence short and flat. “A suicide bomber blew up Johnny and his family. Leave is cancelled. We’re changing flight plans. We fly into New York and meet General Palmer at the scene.”

There was a long stunned silence as each man reflected on what he’d just heard.

“This is unreal. Johnny gets wasted by an Afghan terrorist a week after he left the army and stopped fighting Afghan terrorists,” Able said.

“This is one cruel and twisted world,” Bobby said.

“Someone’s gonna find out just how cruel real soon,” Mace said.

“We’re burning these fuckers down,” Bear said.

JFK International Airport, Queens, NY

The flight attendants uniform was the perfect cover and the trip through customs was quick and easy. Gliding casually through the airport as every screen displayed CNN’s coverage of the latest bombing, right away Omar knew that this had to be a direct attack on the soldier. Amir wouldn’t waste his resources on such a small target after the failure in the park. Omar decided the bar was a good place to start the search and directed the cab towards downtown Manhattan.

“We’re on our way,” said the friendly driver as they pulled away from the curb.

“Excuse me?”

“I said here we go, we’re on our way.”

“Yes. Yes we are, aren’t we,” said Omar the Blade.