Sleeper Cell Super Boxset (54 page)

The men started talking over each other, putting forth their own ideas and plans.

“Get the Pentagon and military!”

“Have field teams on site.”

“Issue an alert. Increase security. Put our resources where they are most needed.”

Calderon attempted to talk over the noise, but he soon gave up and signaled Walker over to him. They walked away from the group, down the hall and out of hearing.

“So you believe this woman?” Walker asked.

“I’m not convinced of anything yet. I need to talk to her some more.”

“What does she want in return?” Walker asked.

Craig couldn’t believe he hadn’t considered her terms.

“I don’t know yet,” Craig said.

“Well, she must have some. Why else would she be providing this information?”

Craig leaned in closer and asked Walter for his gun.

“Why?” Walker asked.

“You want to figure this thing out, it’s the only way.”

Walker hesitated. In a sane world he would have outright refused. But things were no longer that clear.

“All I’m asking from you is to trust me,” Craig said.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to get to the truth of this fiasco.”

Walker stammered, then reluctantly handed over his .38 snub-nose revolver, checking first to make sure no one was looking their way. Craig gave him an appreciative glance and headed back to the room as if he had forgotten something inside.

“Hey!” Calderon called out. “Where are you going? We’re not done here.”

“I’ll be right back,” Craig said. He opened the door, rushed inside, and slammed it shut.

***

Malaka and Husein looked up, startled at Craig’s sudden entrance. He quickly slid his chair against the door, blocking it from opening. He then walked back to the table and stood within arm’s reach of Husein, staring down at him. Malaka didn’t say a word. They both looked up, unsure what to make of him and the uncomfortable silence in the room.

“What is it, Agent Davis?” Husein asked.

Craig eyed them suspiciously. “You’ve been very generous to offer us this information. But I’m not convinced you’ve told me everything.”

Confused, Malaka looked at Husein and spoke to him in Chechen. Husein looked at Craig.

“She wants to know what you’re talking about.”

Craig smirked. “Of course she does. Tell her I want to know what her angle is. What does she want in return for this information?”

Before Husein could repeat the words in Chechen, Craig knelt down and got right into Malaka’s face. “What do you want from us? You can understand me fine, so answer me.”

“Asylum!” she said.

Craig took a step back, surprised at her response.

“I want asylum,” she continued. “Safety from those who will kill me for speaking out.”

Craig brought a hand to his scruffy chin and thought to himself. “I guess that makes sense,” he said.

He circled the table methodically and then stopped again next to Husein. Malaka shifted in her chair, rubbing her watery eyes just as Craig pulled the revolver from his back pocket, grabbed Husein behind the neck, and threw him on the ground in one quick, violent jerk.

He held Husein by the back of his neck and then pulled him back up on his knees. Husein seemed too shocked and scared to resist. As Malaka cried out, Craig held the pistol against the back of her nephew’s head.

The FBI group pounded on the door from the other side, but they couldn’t get in. Undeterred, Craig stood behind Husein, pistol aimed.

“Are you through playing games?” Craig shouted. “You’re going to stop bullshitting me, or I’ll shoot your nephew right here.”

Craig pressed the gun harder against the back of Husein’s skull every time he tried to move.

“You can’t do this!” Malaka cried out. “We have protection.”

Craig looked over at her with wild eyes. “You think my government gives a shit about either of you?”

“Is no lie!” Malaka shouted. The pounding on the door continued. He could hear the shuffling of keys from outside.

“Tell me what’s really going on here!” Craig demanded. “You think I’m messing around?”

“We’ve told you everything!” Husein shouted. His eyes closed and his body trembled.

“Where are the attacks taking place?”

“The D.C. Metro—” Husein began.

Craig wound his leg back and pushed Husein onto the ground with his foot. “Not from you, from her!”

Malaka reached out to her nephew lying helplessly on the floor. “Please don’t hurt him. He’s all I have left.”

“Then tell me what I need to know!” Craig shouted.

“D.C. Metro. New York Subway. Chicago Transit. Is all I know!” The words flowed out under her thick accent.

Craig took a step back and clicked the hammer on the pistol.

“Last chance to come clean,” Craig said.

“I know nothing else!” Malaka cried out. 

From outside, the agents managed to get the door unlocked and kicked it open, sending the flimsy chair Craig had set up under the doorknob flying across the room. A group of panicked officials stormed into the office. They looked immediately at their two Chechen visitors, relieved that they were unharmed.

Calderon was livid. “What the
fuck
are you doing, Davis? You wanna go to jail?”

Walker stood by, quiet and full of concern. Craig knew it was all up to him to explain.

“You can gamble with people’s lives all day if you want. You brought me in to help out, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

Roswell lashed out. “You were brought in here to gather information, not play Dirty Harry!” He turned to Calderon. “I want this loose cannon relieved of duty, immediately!”

Assistant Director Holloway, the highest-ranking official in the room, spoke up. “That’s enough, Roswell. Everyone take a breather. We have a national crisis on our hands.” He looked at Craig. “Relinquish that weapon immediately, Agent Davis. We’ll take it from here.”

Craig handed the revolver back to Walker.

“Someone get his notebook!” Roswell cried out.

“Hand it over,” Calderon said, putting his arm out.

“She’s hiding something. I know it,” Craig said.

“Well, why don’t you just
shoot
her, then?” Roswell quipped. 

Walker went over to Husein to help him up. Husein looked at him with utter confusion.

“Here. It’s okay,” Walker said to him. He pulled a noticeably shaken Husein back on his feet as Malaka sobbed. “Have a seat,” he said calmly.

Malaka looked to Husein and spoke in her native tongue, shaken and upset.

“She believes that Agent Davis is crazy,” he said. “And that she is done talking with you and the FBI.”

Craig walked past his superiors, straight to Malaka. “If she wants political asylum, tell her we want the truth.”

Holloway sat next to her and spoke calmly. “The cat’s out of the bag, Mrs. Surkov. You told Agent Davis of these attacks, and now we need your help. If it’s asylum you want, I’m sure we can make that happen. But you have to cooperate. Can you do that?” Husein interrupted several times, repeating what Holloway said, making sure his aunt understood.

A silence came over the room as she looked at Husein.

“You can trust them, Aunt Malaka,” he said.

She nodded. “Yes. Yes, I will help.” 

“Bullshit!” Craig shouted.

“That’s enough,” Calderon said. “Get him out of here.”

Two men grabbed Craig and escorted him out of the room as the rest of the officials remained inside, looking over Craig’s notes and talking with Malaka.

***

The FBI heads assembled in a tightly packed tactical operations room. It was filled with monitor screens, teleconference equipment, and a litany of high-tech radio gear to communicate with field teams and other agencies. There was a sense of urgency in the room, the intensity of it second to no other counter-terrorism action in recent memory.

Homeland Security, CIA officials, and the Pentagon members were brought into the loop and all information was cross-referenced with their intel. Malaka wasn’t the only one to reveal similar information. The very sleeper cell under Homeland’s watch had made the same claim. The Pentagon and CIA had verified that there were credible sources from all over citing a potential attack on the nation’s three major transit systems the next day. They had to take action, and the FBI tried to take the lead in maintaining control of the situation. There was even talk of getting the president on the line.

The FBI director, Kurt McMillian, soon showed up. He was a seasoned veteran of the department with trimmed gray hair, sunken blue eyes, and a permanent no-nonsense expression.

              He seemed to be the man in charge, and he called for quiet as officials filed in, took their seats, and stood wherever there was room. Craig leaned against a wall in the back, viewing the projection screen ahead as it displayed the information he had given the FBI from his notes.

Even with his burning of bridges in the agency, they couldn’t cut him loose. He knew too much. Walker had gone to bat for him and convinced officials to let him stay on the case in an advisory role. Besides, they needed all the manpower they could muster.

Malaka and her nephew were still under close watch in the FBI holding quarters until the supposed attacks were thwarted. A conclave of agencies filled the room, ready to go. 

              The FBI director began. “In the next ten hours, according to our intel, we have to prepare for a series of ISIS-inspired attacks across the East Coast. This is information that has come from multiple sources, from multiple detainees. And now we hear that Mrs. Surkov, the mother of the Surkov terrorist brothers, has verified the same thing.”

              Listening to the director’s words reminded Craig of how much he wanted to be back in the game. Suspended, he didn’t know what to offer them. Something didn’t add up, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He still couldn’t figure out why Malaka had requested him by name. She could have told the information to any of the FBI officials, and they would have easily bought it over him. Why him?  

His cell phone buzzed, and he quietly took it out of his pocket. There was a text from Rachael asking where he was. He sent a text back.

In a meeting with the FBI now. 

              His fingers paused. He didn’t want to panic her or Nick, but it was time to at least warn them.

Honey, listen to me. You and Nick stay in the house. Do not go anywhere. Terror alert warning in effect.

              He stopped again, trying to decide how much to tell her. He knew she would want answers. 

If things get worse, I want you to take the boat to the cabin.

             
After he pressed
send
, he held his breath.

Rachael: OMG. What are you talking about? We need you here.

Please come home.

             
McMillian continued his briefing as Craig hovered over his phone, trying to decide how to explain the situation in a text.

Will call you as soon as this is over. Stay safe. Love you.

He pressed
send
once again and placed the phone back in his pocket. It soon vibrated again, but his attention was elsewhere. The officials were planning something. They had just gotten the president on the line.

             
“How can we be sure that this threat is real?”
the president asked over the speakerphone.

              “The information matches the testament of several detainees, and was recently verified by a credible source who wishes to remain anonymous. The informant had expressed concern over ISIS sympathizers in our own government,” McMillian said.

The president continued,
“That’s preposterous, but if there are indeed potential attacks, I want every resource we have directed at preventing them. There should be no excuses.”

              “Yes sir, understood,” McMillian said.

             
“What are the targets?”
the president asked.

              McMillian looked at the screen in front of him, which presented the details of the attack.

“The first attack is supposed to happen on the D.C. Metro at approximately oh nine hundred hours. We don’t have specifics on where exactly it’s supposed to take place. The next attack is supposed to occur on the New York City Subway at oh nine thirty hours. And then the final attack is supposed to occur on the Chicago Rapid Transit at oh nine forty-five hours. That is what we have so far.”

              McMillan stopped talking. There was a pause, and then the president spoke.
“How are we possibly going to cover so much ground? What is your plan?”

              “Field agents at every site. Military and National Guard if needed. Alerts issued to law enforcement across the east coast. Basically we want to pull together all resources we can in a ten-hour time frame, just as you suggested. It’s the only way.”

              The president sighed.
“I want this done right. And I want it done quietly. Total control of the areas in question. Shut them down temporarily, but for God’s sake, keep order in the streets. Everyone on alert. Work with state governors and local law enforcement and make it happen.”

              “It’s a delicate balance, sir,” McMillian said.

             
“What is?”
the president snapped.

              “Taking control of the areas, keeping people safe, and stopping these attacks without issuing a public terror threat.”

             
“I don’t give a shit, just do it! We’ll implement martial law if we have to. I’m meeting with the Joint Chiefs in twenty minutes. I want an update in the next hour.”

              The president hung up before McMillian could respond. The FBI director looked around the room, searching for words that would satisfy the gawking faces looking back at him.

“Well, I think he took it pretty well.”