Krystal Scent (Krystal Vibration Series Book 2) Page 7

  “Have a seat,” he said, motioning to one of the dark-fabric, wingchairs across from him. “Mallory told me of your ordeal on the way here. We’re trying to determine who’s behind it.”

  Karen didn’t respond but just sat where directed.

  Etheridge sat back down and said, “Mallory continues to speak very highly of you, and although I know you two were intimate, I believe he’s correct in assessing your value to the agency.”

  Karen blushed slightly and responded, “You think I want to work for Homeland Security? When you both asked me before, I said I didn’t want any part of it. And is my personal life everybody’s business?”

  She thought about mentioning the surveillance devices in the cabin and at Krystal Vision, but now she thought they might come in handy left in place rather than being removed.

  “I know you have a bad taste in your mouth when it comes to how the Federal Government operates, especially when it comes to terrorists.”

  “Not terrorists, hostages. You don’t care whether they survive or not. Other than that, I’m not fond of how the government operates, period.”

  “I thought you and President Burke were friends.”

  “We are. And I would do anything for him, that’s why I’m here. He asked me to take your call and listen to what you had to say.”

  Etheridge came from behind his desk, sat down in an adjacent chair, and said, “We continually have situations where we have to respond with various operatives based on their unique talents and expertise. We are somewhat lacking when it comes to humans with heightened-sense awareness. You’ve demonstrated that you have almost superhuman sensitivity.”

  Karen was not at all influenced by Etheridge’s flattering remarks.

  But there could be some personal advantages working for Homeland Security.

  “What is it that you wish me to do?” she asked.

  “First off, anything that we discuss, you see, or hear, must remain confidential. The security of the United States and the Office of the President are continually at risk. You must keep everything to yourself.”

  Karen whispered, “Secrets.”

  “More than you can imagine.”

  Karen thought for a moment. She was becoming increasingly intrigued that she would be involved in possible covert actions in order to protect the United States. It would also satisfy her personal vendetta against the evil bastards who murdered her father, her aunt, her uncle and maimed and disfigured her cousins. Additionally, she would most probably be made privy to sensitive information that could point toward her father’s killers.

  “If I agree to become part of Homeland Security, what would I have to do?”

  “I want you to attend the C.R.I. - Israeli Counter Terrorism and Crime Training School in Nevada.”

  “Counterterrorist training? In Nevada?”

  “Yes. I want to arrange for you to be there as soon as possible if that’s convenient?”

  “Am I being employed by Homeland Security?”

  “Actually, you’ll have no traceable employer, but everything will be paid for you. And you’ll be issued a couple of credit cards for when you’re in the field along with bogus business cards. Additionally, you’ll receive a salary while you’re engaged.”

  “I don’t need the money.”

  “I know, but we still want to pay you for your time. We can deposit it into a private account.”

  “Where?”

  “Offshore, under your name. Incidentally, if you are asked who you work for, you are to say, Technicom Distributors.”

  Karen repeated the name and looked around the office. “What do you want me to do, now?” she asked.

  “Just go back home and wait for me to call to let you know the timeline for you to go to Nevada.”

  Karen thought for a moment and then agreed.

  Etheridge almost smiled and said, “By the way, since you’re now working for us, all the facilities: the lab, computer systems, Internet gateways, support staff, the spa and gym are for your use.”

  “Don’t I have to be vetted? Don’t you have to do a background check?” Karen asked, leaning back into the chair.

  Etheridge just gave Karen a blank look.

  “Right, you’ve already done that.”

  Etheridge rose from his chair and Karen knew the meeting was over. He walked her to the door, opened it for her, and Etheridge’s assistant handed Karen a badge with her name on it.

  Am I that predictable?

  She headed straight for the gym.

  ***

  A couple of hours after Karen Krystal left Homeland Security, Nathan Mallory entered Carl Etheridge’s office.

  “We’ve received some bad news from the NSA,” Etheridge said. “Our operatives on the ground have confirmed that al-Qa’ida has been successful in gathering representatives from the major terrorist organizations in the Middle East and Africa. The theft of the uranium from the Pakistani plant was orchestrated by al-Qa’ida and carried off by allied, Taliban and ISIS terrorists. This is just the beginning of a possible master plan.

  “At least seventeen terrorist organizations in as many countries are involved. We have to discover their goal and target or targets. What did you learn about our prodigy?”

  Mallory said, “We have no idea who tried to control her car.”

  Etheridge opened up a portal on his computer screen. “According to this, she went to our training facilities right after I met with her today. They always make new recruits undergo a complete assessment. Her vitals are almost inhuman. They conducted a sensory test. She’s off the charts, almost better than all the other species on the planet.”

  “I know that since the Labyrinth, she’s been a changed person.”

  “You knew her before?” Etheridge asked, his eyebrows rising slightly—giving away slight expression.

  “Well, not really. But when the Labyrinth incident was over, she was considerably different than when I first met her only forty-eight hours earlier.”

  “On your recommendation, I invited her in. She accepted. I’ve decided to begin her training.” Etheridge looked at his computer screen again. “According to the preliminary numbers, her abilities are extraordinary.”

  Mallory stared off into the distance.

  “Look Mallory, my only concern is the welfare of the United States and its citizens. And if that means we have to use Karen Krystal’s talents to help us do our jobs, then so be it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Anyway, see what you can find out about what’s happening over there and be thankful you’re out of the field and safe inside.”

  Mallory left and Etheridge continued to marvel at Karen’s charts.

  ***

  Since Nathan Mallory’s assignment ended at the Labyrinth in the hills of Pennsylvania, he had been assigned to a desk job inside Homeland Security. He worked directly for Carl Etheridge and was tasked with the responsibility of finding out the extent of al-Qa’ida’s success in recruiting other terrorist factions to join them in a worldwide effort against the free world.

  A few hours after leaving Etheridge’s office, Mallory finished his report, printed it off, and returned to give an accounting of his findings to his boss.

  “The major terrorist organizations in the Middle East and Africa have formed a cooperative pact. The new organization called the World Massacre Movement (WM2), is headed by al-Qa’ida and includes representatives of the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan, the Taliban, the Moro National Liberation Front, the East Turkestan Islamic Movement, the Rajah Sulaiman movement, Abu Sayyaf, al-Shabaab, Iraqi insurgents, the Islamic Courts Union, the Caucasus Emirate, Lashkar-e-Taiba, Jaish-e-Mohammed, Jemaah Islamiyah, the Iraqi Baath Party loyalists, SCJL, Jundallah, and of course, ISIS.

  “It’s estimated that there are about 25,000 terrorists spread throughout Maghreb, Syria, Yemen, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, Somalia, and numerous other countries. The number of terrorists in western countries and other democratic nations is not factored in.” />
  “Your information is reliable?” Etheridge asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then we’d better begin educating the rest of the world. We could have a major catastrophe on the horizon especially in light of the recent theft of enriched uranium from the plant in Pakistan.”

  Mallory left and began writing an alert that would be sent to all the state departments around the world.

  CHAPTER 12

  Mogadishu, Somalia

  Ahmed Fadhil went to the Mogadishu post office to check his mailbox. He was waiting for word as to what he was supposed to do with the silver cakes of uranium stolen from the Sehali uranium enrichment plant in Pakistan. He had been checking daily. He unlocked the door of his bogus-named PO Box and inside was a plain brown envelope with no postage and no return address. He opened it and read the contents:

  Purchase metal files for five men along with asbestos gloves for all. Create iron filings of the cakes. Tomorrow at 5:00 am, 500 sticks of dynamite will be delivered to the warehouse; 500 metal shoeboxes will be delivered at 6:00 am and all the other equipment will be arrive at 7:00. The boxes need to be filled with the material.

  You will be creating 500 dirty bombs. Each box needs a detonator with a receiver, a stick of dynamite, and an amount of radioactive iron filings from the cakes.

  Each dirty bomb has to be put together but not by one person. That’s why you were instructed to divide the warehouse into separate segments.

  Steps to create a bomb: line each box with aluminum foil. Cover the bottom with 2” of iron filings. Set the detonator in the bottom of the box and attach it to the electronic receiver and a AAA battery. Place the wires against the battery terminals and press on small balls of clay to hold the connectors. The other ends of the wires are to be attached to the detonator and pushed into a stick of dynamite. Set the receiver to activate with the code. You will have to move from room to room and demonstrate to each cell segment what their responsibility is. Only you will know how to completely configure the bomb.

  Start with code #1 all the way up to #500. A control panel along with your route and destination will be delivered to the boat just before you are about to depart.

  Fadhil folded the instructions and placed them in the bottom of his shoe. He then returned to his hotel and knocked on Atwah’s door and suggested they go for a walk.

  Once outside and well away from the hotel, Fadhil explained some of the plan:

  “Early tomorrow, I’m going to gather everyone together in the warehouse and we’re going to make some specialized packages. We’ll begin at 4:00 am. The first thing we need to do is create iron filings of the cakes.”

  “What are we going to do with the filings?”

  “I have about five hundred metal shoeboxes that we have to half fill.”

  “What are we going to do with all those boxes of iron filings?”

  “I’ll let you know the details in the morning. Just be ready to mobilize everyone so that they’re all there on time.”

  ***

  Fadhil had purchased the warehouse almost a year ago and hired a construction company to divide the space into separate sections with locking doors between them and conveyer belts that ran its length through 4½-inch-high-by-7½-inch-wide openings. The pathways of the motorized belts passed through holes just tall and wide enough to accommodate the height and width of a woman’s standard shoebox.

  The conveyor passed by a table that was midway into each room and then continued on and through the opposite matching door. A blinder on each side and a black flap made of heavy cloth that fell from the top of each opening to the belt inhibited any ability to see through into the next and previous rooms.

  Just beyond the aperture to the subsequent workspace was another moving track that grabbed hold of the items and carried them to the next group of workers who modified the product further for the subsequent step in the process.

  ***

  The time came and the men began arriving at the specific, intermittent intervals so that they couldn’t comingle with each other. Before they entered the warehouse, they had to empty their pockets. They couldn’t take anything with them into the building—no pocket knives, cellphones, watches, wallets, or even paper, pencils, or pens.

  None of the men in each section could see the other. They were all handed asbestos gloves and told to put them on and never take them off until their jobs were complete and they left the room. Then they were to throw them into the pit that would be just outside the exit.

  One man was placed in the room where the uranium was originally stored. Once he entered, he was locked in. A small, six-inch-square opening with a wooden door on two hinges was on the wall about four feet off the floor. On the other side of the wall was a conveyer belt. He was told to set five cakes on the conveyor when the buzzer sounded.

  The cakes were delivered to a second chamber where ten men worked tirelessly to file down the cakes to iron shavings. The filings were placed in a wooden box that held about ten pounds and then was lifted through another flap door which led to another conveyor.

  The men in the third room had two conveyors that fed in the uranium slivers on one track and an oblong metal box with a lid on the other. The men removed the lid and filled each box halfway with the filings. The lid was replaced and the box was sent on its way.

  In the fourth room, the men received the metal boxes with the uranium shards and they set a piece of wax paper on the filings and a detonator atop that.

  The fifth-room occupants placed a radio receiver in the box.

  The sixth-room terrorists set in a triple-A battery.

  The seventh-room workers set in a stick of dynamite.

  The eighth-room people wired the receiver and batteries and inserted a pen-like detonator into the end of the dynamite stick.

  The men in the ninth room welded on the metal lids, aligning the slits to the base so that the wires could protrude. This was an extremely dangerous job because of the stick of dynamite inside.

  In the tenth room, the metal boxes were set inside women’s shoe boxes.

  In the eleventh room, workers placed designer labels on the boxes and sent them on their way to the shipping room.

  There was another set of rooms on the other side of the hallway where different bombs were being made that used one-gallon containers of thirty-five percent hydrogen peroxide, magnesium, beryllium, boron, thorium, aluminum powder, uranium, lithium metal, and black iron oxide. Grass seed was generously spread over the inside. The labels on the outside indicated the brand and type of germ along with watering and care instructions. These bombs, although larger and fewer were for a different purpose.

  Once all the explosive devices were constructed, Fadhil had the twelve men standing outside, load them into a truck. He used the intercom system to inform the others to be patient, and that they would be let out of the rooms within a couple of hours.

  To the men outside he said, “We need to take this to the boat and load it.”

  It took time to carry all the bogus shoe boxes on board and place them in neat piles in the belly of the ship. Once all the items were stacked, another truck pulled up and two men unloaded two hundred pair of designer shoes by Jimmy Choo, Christian Louboutin, Alexander Mcqueen, Manolo Blahnik, Louis Vuitton, Miu Miu, Stuart Weitzman, Walter Steiger, and Brian Atwood. These were placed in front of, atop, and alongside the other inventory so that in case there was a surprise inspection by authorities, all that would be found would be women’s shoes.

  The final article carried onto the deck was a huge crate.

  The truck drove away and Fadhil suddenly told them to shove off. The men were startled. They all complained bitterly that all their possessions, wallets, and cellphones were left behind. Fadhil told them that they would get them back as soon as the mission was complete.

  He did return their wallets with their IDs along with the DECLARATION-OF-JIHAD message that all terrorists carried in their pockets so they would be properly linked to a terrorist o
peration in case they were captured or killed.

  Once the other men had calmed down and disappeared below deck to have something to eat and drink, Ahmed Fadhil took Mohammed Ally Atwah over to the crate. He pried it open with a crowbar just enough to see into it with the aid of a flashlight.

  “We now have on board five hundred dirty bombs that we intend to use when we reach our destination. The explosives will be activated by means of this control panel.”

  The panel was populated with a series of switches and indicator lights. All were numbered from one to five hundred.

  Fadhil continued, “When the time is right, we’ll set off all the bombs in sequence. There’s a mechanism that’ll control successive detonation.”

  “What’s our target?”

  “I’m not able to tell you, yet. But soon. We leave Somalia and travel around Africa through the Gulf of Aden an’ up the Red Sea.”

  “What if we get stopped for an inspection?”

  “I’ve purchased over two hundred pair of women’s designer shoes. The men were instructed to set them at the ends and the top of the pile of shoeboxes housing the bombs. We’ll get through.”

  “Are we going up to the Mediterranean?”

  Fadhil stayed silent.

  Fadhil could only explain so much to Atwah and the rest of the terrorist cell. The bulk of the plot had to remain secret. The only thing he divulged was that they would be taking a trip on the boat.

  They raised the Somali Islamic Front flag. It unfurled and displayed the centered, gray-blue circle housing the hollow, five-pointed yellow star with the five yellow spikes shooting from the star’s intersecting sides. The background was made up of three solid stripes—on the top was green, then yellow, and then red.

  They were soon rounding the Somali coast, passing through the Gulf of Aden and sailing into the Red Sea. They weren’t the only ship in the passage. A caravan of oil-bearing crafts was off in the distance followed by a couple of smaller commercial boats.