Monday Night Jihad (43 page)

“Quit telling me everything the Xs aren’t and start telling me what they are!” Hicks commanded.

“They’re whip cracks,” came a deep voice. Everyone turned to see Skeeter leaning over Khadi’s shoulder, looking at the screen. “You got yourself a mule don’t wanna move, you crack him a whip ’crost his back. He’ll start movin’. That’s what hajji’s doing with those other four Xs. He’s cracking his whip.”

“Of course,” Riley said. “You set off those blasts, people start running away. The only route clear of destruction is the one to the main entrance. But to get to the main entrance, they’ve got to squeeze through the Main Street funnel. Sal waits for the big rush down Main Street, and then he detonates the big one.”

“It fits,” Hicks said. “And it’s better than any other guess we’ve got.” He moved to the cockpit and asked the pilots to patch him through to Director LeBlanc.

While he waited, Hicks closed his eyes and visualized the satellite image. He saw the way all the paths converged on that one street, and the mental picture made him shudder. He prayed they weren’t too late.

Sunday, February 1

Disneyland

Anaheim, California

4:20 p.m. PST

Hakeem sat on a bench in the plaza at the end of Main Street, U.S.A. He wore earbuds connected to a radio that was tuned to the football game taking place less than an hour away. It was a fast game—a fact Hakeem appreciated. Timing was crucial, and the sooner he could get this over with, the better.

Stage one was complete. As soon as Hakeem had arrived, he had hidden the four small bombs in strategic spots around the park. The devices were concealed in shrink-wrapped cases of Disney DVD collector sets and had been given to him in a souvenir bag back at the house. If all went as planned, the small bombs would explode right as the second quarter came to an end. The big blast would come during halftime.

He turned the volume down a few notches so he could think. I wonder if Riley’s enjoying the PFL Cup, he mused. I wonder how he’s going to feel when he realizes he was within forty miles of stopping me. Sorry, buddy, but those forty miles might as well be around the world.

A light breeze came from the direction of a popcorn vendor. Hakeem breathed in deeply. I wonder what heaven smells like, he thought. The smell of the buttery popcorn became so distracting that he got up and moved to another bench out of the scent’s flight path.

The park was packed. Just like the day of the Daytona 500 brought thousands of people to Disney World, Hakeem knew that the PFL Cup was contributing to the crowd today. Everywhere he looked, there were smiling and laughing families. This truly was a dream come true for many of them. He had to admit that deep down he felt bad for these people, especially the children. But in any war, innocents must die. These children were not being murdered by him. Their fate had been determined a long time ago by the actions of their own government. Blame your president; don’t blame me.

Hakeem would have liked to have been around to watch the aftermath of this attack. But he knew that Allah had chosen and prepared him for this particular mission. The American people would be devastated by the knowledge that this icon of the nation’s family values had been attacked. Their horror would only be compounded at the realization that it was one of their “heroes” who had carried out the strike.

When it came down to it, Hakeem knew he was just a pawn in this game. The Cause had existed before him, and his death would result in it becoming even stronger. This was not the Cause’s swan song; it was the beginning of its symphony.

“Six minutes to go in the half with the score Liberty 14, Dragons 10,” came the announcer’s voice as the broadcast cut to commercial.

Six minutes left. Hakeem stood and headed down Main Street. He didn’t want to be caught having to rush at the last minute.

Just six minutes. Hakeem was ready. In six minutes, while millions of eyes were glued to the television hoping to witness another wardrobe malfunction, a newsbreak would cut in—rocking their world—telling them of the carnage and devastation at what had once been the “happiest place on earth.”

4:30 p.m. PST

Hicks pointed to the computer screen. “See this central plaza area between Disneyland and California Adventure? The chopper’s going to come in low and drop us right in the middle of it. We need to try to get into the park without Hakeem realizing it, or he’ll set himself off wherever he is.”

“I don’t think he will, Jim,” Riley said. “He’s probably been planning this thing for a long time. He’s got something he wants to say with it. I’m betting he’s going to do whatever he can to carry out his plan.”

“Maybe you’re right; maybe you’re wrong. I’m not going to take a chance. So after we drop in and get into the park, we’re going to pair off and go looking for him—all except for you, Skeeter.”

Skeeter started to protest, but Hicks cut him off. “Skeet, with your height, I need you in this Town Square place, right inside the entrance. I want you looking at every face that comes in or out. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Skeeter clearly wasn’t thrilled at the idea of allowing Riley out of his sight, but he was a soldier, and Hicks knew he would follow orders.

“Riley and Khadi, you take the left side of Main Street. Scott and I’ll take the right. And people, we shoot to kill. Everyone got that? Riley?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Riley answered. “I’ll be right with you.”

“Fine. Any questions? Good. We’re five minutes out. Lock and load.”

4:32 p.m. PST

Hakeem used the time between the two-minute warning and the end of the half to pray. All doubts were gone now. His time had almost come.

“And that’ll do it for the first half, with the New York Liberty leading the New York Dragons by four,” Hakeem heard through his earbuds. “Stay tuned for our halftime show, coming your way in—”

Hakeem clicked off the radio. Then he stood, dropped it in a garbage can, and walked toward the spot where his life would end.

He stopped halfway down Main Street and faced back into the park. Reaching into the pocket of his coat, he pulled out a small remote control device. On it were two buttons—one to arm and one to trigger.

The four small bombs he had planted wouldn’t do much damage, but they would make a lot of noise and send up huge plumes of smoke, creating a panic that would drive the frightened people right toward him.

The first button depressed with a click and remained down.

This is for you, Father and Mother. This is for you, Uncle Ali. This is for you, sweet Alessandra.

Hakeem took his last breath of calm sanity—catching a faint smell of peppermint from the candy shop next to him—and pushed the second button.

4:35 p.m. PST

They were two miles out. The Black Hawk was coming in very low, just barely clearing the buildings below. Suddenly four black clouds rose up from the park ahead.

“We’re late!” Hicks shouted. “Plan B! Everybody rig up! We’re going to have to drop onto Town Square at the entrance to Main Street to avoid the stampede! As soon as you’re down, push as hard as you can to move up that street! Hakeem will wait until the street fills up. That means we’ve got five minutes max before he detonates. This is it, people. Last chance.”

4:35 p.m. PST

A stunned hush fell on the park as the mushrooms of smoke rose into the air. Everywhere around Hakeem, people froze in their tracks, eyes toward the sky.

Then came a single scream, immediately opening the floodgates of panic as people shouted for their children and yelled for directions to the exits. Complete mayhem erupted as the guests tried to remember the way out of the park.

Satisfied, Hakeem entered the Candy Palace; he needed a place where he could wait for the few remaining minutes. All the customers inside had rushed out to see what had happened, leaving him alone with the sole remaining employee. He walked through the store and around the counter. When the girl in the old-fashioned dress began to protest, Hakeem pressed his .40 cal to her chest and pulled the trigger. The teen crumpled to the ground.

Hakeem looked back toward the entrance and noted with satisfaction that the noise and the panic outside had completely drowned out the sound of the shot. Adrenaline surged through his body as he took one last look at the girl to make sure she wasn’t moving. He moved to the front display window and stood watching the passing crowd begin to grow.

So far, everything is working just as I planned.

4:39 p.m. PST

The Black Hawk dropped to within thirty feet of the ground over Town Square, causing the already frantic people to slip into sheer panic. Five dark shadows appeared on the sides of the helicopter, then rapidly rappelled to the ground. When the team was down, they disconnected their lines, and the helicopter lifted back up.

All around, people screamed and pointed at these five figures carrying automatic weapons. No one knew for sure whether this strange sight was the continuation of the attack or somebody coming to the rescue. No one wanted to risk finding out.

People clambered over each other, trying to escape these possible terrorists. The only ones who weren’t frightened were some of the preadolescent boys who thought this show was way cooler than that cheesy one at Universal Studios. After the team separated, they were soon forgotten as the crowd continued its mad rush to the exit.

4:41 p.m. PST

Even from inside the Candy Palace, the noise of the stampede was deafening. Parents had abandoned their strollers and were carrying their children, sometimes two and three at once. Older people were getting shoved aside as the younger ones raced past.

That right there is the root cause of what is wrong in this society!

Any ounce of pity Hakeem had ever felt for these people was gone. He slid the detonator from his sleeve and placed it in his hand. After a final quick prayer to Allah, he stepped out the door.

Sunday, February 1

Disneyland

Anaheim, California

4:44 p.m. PST

Riley and Khadi fought hard against the flood of people. The crowd was pushing all around them. Forward progress through the sea of bodies was made even more difficult by the people’s terrified reaction to the M4 in Riley’s hands.

As they forced their way down the left side of the street, Riley scanned the faces around him. He could hear soft voices as they passed him—parents whispering to their children, “It’s okay, baby,” “Daddy’s got you now,” “Mama loves her little angel.” Several times Riley passed people who had blood on their faces. Others were limping or being helped by family members. All kept their eyes straight ahead, trying with everything they had to reach their goal of the front gates.

How many of these innocent victims will be killed if we don’t get to Sal in time? Riley wondered.

His foot caught on something that almost made him lose his balance. He looked to his left in time to see an aluminum walker tipping over and an elderly woman go sprawling after it. Resisting the urge to stop and help, he pressed forward—only once looking back to see a young man trying to help the woman back up. Lord, please help these people!

His height gave him a little advantage, and Riley was able to keep a fairly good view of the area around him. Khadi stuck close behind him. All the stores seemed to be abandoned—the employees either fleeing to the back lots or out the exit. Someone bumped hard into Riley’s side, sending a nasty message from his mending ribs to his brain’s pain sensors. He dropped one arm to protect his side.

Up ahead, under a yellow and white awning, something caught Riley’s eye. In the midst of the river of flowing humanity, there was one stationary person pressed against a wall. Riley signaled to Khadi, and they pressed that direction. When they were ten yards away, the man removed his hat, dropped it onto the ground, and rubbed his bald head.

“I think I’ve got a visual in front of the Candy Palace!” Riley yelled into his comm unit.

“Are you sure?” Hicks’s voice answered.

“Negative, not yet! Khadi, cut left and head up the storefronts. I’m going to confirm whether that’s Sal.”

Khadi nodded her approval. “Be careful, Riley.”

Riley pushed ahead, but the mass of people made forward progress difficult. Suddenly the man looked up, and Riley locked eyes with his best friend.

Lord, don’t make me do this! Not Sal! Please don’t make me . . .

Surprise showed on Hakeem’s face for just a moment before his body went flying backwards as a shot from Riley’s M4 hit him in the left shoulder.

“It’s him! It’s him!” Riley cried as he struggled toward Hakeem.

“I’m on him!” came Khadi’s voice in his ear. “He’s down but still—”

Two shots cut through the noise, and Riley turned in time to see Khadi’s head drop behind the crowd.

“NO!” he shouted just before he felt two sets of arms grab him around the neck and try to pull him to the ground. As he struggled to break their grips, he felt his rifle stripped from his hands. Another hand grabbed for his sidearm.

Riley drove his elbow into the chin of one of his assailants, sending him toppling. A low leg sweep followed by a forearm to the throat dropped the second.

Riley didn’t stop to find out who these guys were, but a quick glance at the first blond-haired man lying stunned on the ground in a Mickey Mouse T-shirt told him they were Good Samaritans trying to take down the guy with the gun.

With his shoulder down, Riley drove the last few feet through to the area that had cleared around Hakeem. The terrorist was struggling to roll his body onto his mangled left side. A detonator lay just out of his reach, but he was getting close to grabbing it.

Riley dove for Hakeem, but Hakeem turned in time to fire two shots into Riley’s chest.

Riley’s ballistic vest stopped the bullets from penetrating his body, but the impact drove the air from his lungs. He landed on top of Hakeem, causing both men to scream in pain.

Blackness threatened to descend on Riley as Hakeem fought to push him off. Finally Riley felt his body being rolled sideways, even as he struggled to find the strength to stop Hakeem.