The Observer (Derek Cole Suspense Thriller Book 3) (27 page)

“But what good is fuel if there is no spark? An ocean of explosive material can sit idly, harmlessly by for thousands of years without ever tasting the brilliance of a spark. Its own potential soon becomes its evaporative enemy. Sucking its potency away, molecule by molecule, in a process so slight that it goes unnoticed for generations.

“But then, grown strong from the folly of the appeasers, comes one who has a unique ability to refill the ocean of fuel, cease the evaporation, redirect other streams and to expand the potential. The ocean is brimming once again, and you have willingly and ignorantly proffered a plethora of sparks.

“Before being introduced to speak here this evening, I completed a series of tasks. Tasks that were so disjoined and disparate that even the most intelligent among you had failed to piece together. Yes, there were times when my boldness disturbed even me and my closest allies. However, your shared fear of ill appearances was so easily manipulated that even the boldest of all my actions was interpreted by you as only a continued need to do more.

“And that is what you are compelled to do; more. Always believing that doing more, taking an additional step to be further away from something or closer to it, will keep your image fresh. A simple twist of an event when coupled with a growing mass of fools, and you, the leaders of nations, folded to requests so absurd that I often believed I was unjustified in my abuse of your conditions. A claim made that the educational system is biased against a particular belief system and, as if by magic, a new curriculum is secretly slipped into every classroom. America, the leader of the world, even went so far as to slowly but surely rewrite their own history to present a more inclusive point of view.
 

“Think back and you may recall the catalyst of the great American fail. A testing complaint over an image of our prophet, painted on the ceiling of the Capitol. An immediate reaction and, as innocently and as quietly as a single stream of water falling from a height, our advancement began. And when one belief advances, another must retreat.

“American exceptionalism it was called. But your reluctance to agree on the definition allowed for a more progressive and easily influenced position to take hold. Like a small tree planted in rich soil, our tree grew roots throughout and slowly was seen as the progressive definition of what being exceptional looks like.

“A mention of further insults and additional restrictions perpetrated from hate or ignorance created an entirely new type of learning. A learning never inspected after being blessed. This continual advancement and retreat has not been without its challenges, however. So many times, wiser voices were raised, threatening our cause. But fools cannot resist the beckoning calls of imaginary progression. Our cover and safety provided by the blind few with enough wealth and notoriety.
 

“Lest our European brothers and sisters feel slighted, your contributions have been even greater. You allowed unfettered access to your once sovereign land, going so far as to even allow swatches of your land to be populated and ruled by people who chose not to become part of your culture. Yes, our fingers were those that pointed out the leaders of this “separatist” movement, and, yes, your ignorance to our progression afforded us more than you could ever imagine.

“We are grateful, no question of that,
 
for all that you have done in your ignorance and from your desire to never being viewed as exclusive. And now, as our announcement is prepared, I am pleased to say that you are free to return to your principles.
 

“An observer is one who watches from a distance. Sometimes, this distance is small and other times it is great. We observed from inside, a distance too minuscule to be measured. Now, you will be the observers. You will wish for a distance so great that it cannot be measured by man's means. And we welcome your distant observations. And while you are observing, know that we are separate from all, sovereign and wholly lacking in a desire to ever being given the pyrrhic distinction of being a recognized member-nation, sitting alongside those who blindly allowed our statement to be so punishingly dramatic.

“I must leave now. There are still too many preparations to complete, tasks to see to their fruition. I thank you all and, honestly, will miss some of you. Some gathered here would be welcomed leaders. But, I know the draw of clinging to the remnants of perceived influence. And so, this is goodbye.”

The crowd, which had grown disturbingly still, began to mumble as Tareef politely bowed, smiled and walked silently off to the right-hand side of the stage.

Nikkie hadn’t noticed that the Ford Taurus parked directly across from the Green Dolphin was occupied. But when the driver engaged the engine and pulled out into the street, her awareness was piqued. When the black Lincoln Navigator slipped into the recently vacated parking spot, she grabbed her phone and called Derek.

“He’s here. Outside. Directly across the street from you.”

“Look for an observer. I see the car. Find the observer.”

“Derek,” Nikkie said, “I can be at the car’s side in 20 seconds. I can end this now.”

“Find the observer. I’ll handle Kevin.”

***I***

Juan first noticed the gaze the driver of a blue Taurus gave him as the car drove past Juan’s position. Perhaps it was just an innocent glance, but Juan felt differently. There was a flash of hatred and intense fear in those eyes. Juan turned and followed the car’s path and watched as the car slammed its brakes. Juan pulled his semi-automatic from his holster and charged towards the car.

The driver raised his gun and emptied its magazine through the passenger’s window towards Juan Cortez. Satisfied, the driver sped away, knowing that a police chase would be severely delayed. He needed to get to Badr’s office quickly; more quickly than he had planned.

***I***

It was cooler than he wished. Though he did not know if the temperature might alter the expected and desired-after effects, he believed the cool weather would keep people too comfortable. If it were warmer, even hot, more people would be out in the streets and more would escape the heat by going inside. Inside, where he needed them to be.

He turned the key of his car to “on” and waited for the touch screen display of the 2010 Lincoln Navigator to jump to life. There were only two things that he cared about; the time and the temperature.

“Sixty-eight degrees,” he sighed. “Too cool. Much too cool for August.”

The display told him only that his time was drawing to an end, though it could not remind him that he still had a choice. A choice was something that he believed he still had. Though his thoughts were cloudy and his head fuzzy, having a remaining choice was something he knew.

“How many more minutes until I am free,”
he thought, intentionally trying to force the fuzziness from his mind.

A cell phone sat beside him on the vacant passenger’s seat. Though he was sure the phone's signal would be strong and battery near full, he grabbed it, flipped it open and pressed a few numbers, grateful to hear the tones. He didn’t expect his mentor to call for another few minutes, making him wonder why he was instructed to arrive so early.

But now he only sat, despising the time he had left to sit in the car, parked across the street from his selected target. Aahill scolded himself for questioning why his mentor insisted on the time of 5:46 pm and not the time that Aahill had suggested.

“Allah, keep me strong in my thoughts,” he said with his eyes closed. “Keep me strong.”

It was Detective Patrick Connor’s idea to have Kevin Washington’s parents near the scene. They were well hidden from view, seated in the back of a nondescript van, parked over a hundred yards from the tavern. Beside the Washington’s, Patrick Connor sat, peering through the windshield.

“I still think you have this all wrong,” Kevin’s mother said. “Kevin is no terrorist. My God, he’s too simple to be one of them.”

“I hope I’m wrong, Mrs. Washington. But if not, we want to take him alive.”

“And you think that seeing us will make him stop blowing himself up,” Dan Washington asked.

“Hearing you through the loud speaker,” Connor replied. “We’re not going to put you or your wife in harm’s way.”

“He ain’t got the balls to be blowing himself up, Detective. Not that I wish he did. Just saying you got the wrong kid.”

The streets outside the van were getting crowded as people ended their work weeks and headed for home or to have a few drinks with friends. The busier the streets became, the more evident the police and the FBI’s presence became to Connor. He hoped the authorities presence was noticed only by his trained and knowing eyes, but when Dan Washington asked him why the hell so many cops and FBI agents were in the area and challenged Connor’s statement about trying to take his son alive, Connor realized he had been duped.

“Get me far enough way to get a cell signal,” he said to the plain-clothed officer, charged with driving the van. “Now!”

It took driving only one block away before Connor’s phone grabbed a signal. He dialed Derek Cole’s number.

“Cole, it’s Detective Connor. We’re in the wrong location.”

“I already know that,” Derek said.

“What the hell is going on, Cole?”

“I’m standing next to the car Aahill is sitting in. Outside a restaurant named the Green Dolphin. Juan is down, not sure if he’s dead or not. I’m going to end this.”

“Cole, wait for me. I’m ten minutes away.”

“I don’t really think waiting is an option. If things go well, I’ll be sitting in a Lincoln Navigator parked directly across from the Dolphin. If not, make sure that Henderson and Cortez’s names are cleared.”

“Cole, do not get into that car with Aahill. Cordon off the area and stay the hell away from the car.”

Detective Patrick Connor heard no reply from Derek.

***I***

Aahill was startled when the passenger’s door opened and a man he’d never seen before sat beside him.

“Who are you?” Aahill asked.

“My name is Derek Cole and I’m here to help you, Kevin.”

“My name is Aahill. Did Badr send you?”

“Aahill,” Derek said as he noticed the bulk poorly hidden beneath the light jacket Aahill was wearing, “Badr doesn’t want you to do this. He doesn’t want people getting killed. He asked me to help you take the vest off and to get away from here.”

“Badr is going to call me. I don’t know who you are. No one is going to get killed. Get away from me.”

“Aahill, the vest you’re wearing. What do you think it’s for?”

“It’s a ceefore vest. Like before but with a ‘C.’”

There was an innocence in Aahill’s eyes. A towering void of hatred and anger.

“It’s a bomb vest, Aahill. They expect you to walk into that restaurant and blow yourself up, killing everyone in the place along with yourself. I know you didn’t know what they were asking you to do. I read the letter you left for your parents about your name being written alongside the great men. But Aahill, there is no list of names. That was only a story Badr and the others told you. They want you to kill yourself and as many innocent people as possible. I don’t know why, and I don’t know what they’ve told you, Aahill. But I know what that vest will do if you don’t take it off and get away from this car.”

“They told me that I was the chosen one. That I had to make the announcement.”

“Who is here with you?” Derek asked.

“Rehan. I dropped him off up at the corner. He said to pick him up after I’m finished.”

“Hold on one second, Aahill. I need to call someone.”

“Are you calling Badr?”

“No, Aahill. Not Badr.”

Derek dialed Nikkie’s cell and was relieved when she answered before the first ring completed its sound.

“Are you fucking crazy? Get out of the car, Derek.”

“Listen,” Derek said. “Aahill is fine. He dropped his observer off at the corner behind me. Aahill, what does Rehan look like?”

“He’s very tall and skinny. He’s wearing a Yankees' hat,” Aahill said.

“Nikkie, look for a tall, skinny man wearing a Yankee hat near the corner.”

Nikkie walked closer to the corner, scanning the streaming line of people for anyone matching the description. “I don’t see anyone standing around and no one in the area that matches the description. Derek, get out of the car.”

“Listen, call Detective Connor. Tell him what’s going on and get an ambulance over to Juan. I can’t see him from where I am, but I saw him get shot. Do it now, Nikkie.”

The look of deeply etched confusion filled Aahill’s face. As Derek was talking to Nikkie, Aahill started to look closely at the vest strapped to his chest. He noticed, for the fist time, the wires plunged into the white clay looking bricks. He followed the wires to a cell phone that was heavily taped to the side of his vest. He then felt the padlocks holding the straps together.

“It’s locked,” Aahill said when Derek ended his call.

“What’s locked, Aahill?”

“The vest. Rehan strapped it on me before we left my new apartment and the straps have padlocks on them. I think I want to take it off now.”

Derek tore open Aahill’s jacket and inspected the vest. Aahill was right. The vest was held in place by three straps around Aahill’s chest and one strap that ran around his crotch. Derek counted two padlocks holding all four straps together.

“Aahill, listen to me. Did Badr or Rehan tell you to push any buttons once you were inside the restaurant?”

“No. Just to put the bag with the glass and water on the floor, make the announcement, then I could leave.”

“What bag are you talking about?” Derek asked.

“The one inside the heavy suitcase in the back of the car.”

Derek scrambled over the two rows of seats. In the back of the Navigator he saw a lead-colored briefcase. “Aahill,” he called without removing his eyes from the briefcase, “what’s in this briefcase?”

“Glass and water. I have to open it up and take the black bag out and bring it inside with me.”

The sound of a cell phone ringing filled the Navigator.