Black Flagged Apex

Chapter 9





8:25 PM

Mount Arlington, New Jersey



Abdul Mohammed Abusir drove the stolen Honda Odyssey minivan down Howard Boulevard searching for the turn onto Old Drakeville Road, which would lead them to the service road that reached the Mount Arlington pump station. They had driven past the entrance to the service road earlier, but couldn't make any sort of assessment about the level of security guarding their target. The Mount Arlington pump station was one of four targets originally assigned to his cell. It wasn't his primary target, but a drive by the Morristown pump station left him feeling uneasy.

The pump station had been located in a busy section of the township, well within sight of regular traffic. They could see a police cruiser parked inside the gate leading to the complex, which was a new development. This was not the standard procedure in America, and they had never seen a law enforcement presence during any of their previous reconnaissance visits to the four targets assigned to their cell. His two remaining cell members agreed that they should choose a more secluded target. All of them immediately suggested Mount Arlington, located in the thick woods off Lake Hopatcong.

When Ghazi Hamar failed to show up for evening prayer at the Islamic Center, Abusir had placed a call to Hamid Muhammad's mosque and listened to the prerecorded message on the answering machine. The message contained none of the emergency code words he had memorized, but he still felt that something was wrong. Hamar had left the el-Halal variety store, one of their usual hangouts, in the middle of the afternoon to visit a nephew that lived in Elizabeth. He'd done this before on several occasions, successfully rejoining them for evening prayer. He had never missed Maghrib before. This was the one time they gathered without fail to pray together as brothers for the strength and wisdom to strike a devastating blow to their sworn enemy, the United States.

That evening's Maghrib was to be their most significant. Earlier that morning, Abusir had received a call on his cell phone that he had anticipated for months. He immediately recognized the number, which he had memorized in the hills of Kandahar several months earlier. The caller simply told him that the package would arrive at his apartment before noon. He knew what this meant for his team.

They would each take one of the canisters and hide it in a location unknown to the rest of the cell. This would ensure the continued survival of their plan if any of them were captured. As far as he was concerned, the arrival of the virus canisters signified the imminent destruction of America. He would take no chances with the weapons provided by Allah himself.

Hamar's failure to show up that night had been too much of a coincidence for him. He ordered the rest of his cell into hiding, to be contacted the following morning. He gave each one of them an envelope of cash and told them each to take a taxi to a motel and await instructions. In the morning, he called Hamid Muhammad's mosque and listened to the pre-recorded message on the answering machine. Something had definitely gone wrong the night before. The code words imbedded in the message told him to execute his plan immediately. He could only assume that the sudden order was somehow related to Hamar's disappearance.

It didn't matter. They would succeed regardless of the obstacles placed before them. They had been chosen by Allah to carry Jihad straight into the heart of enemy territory, and it was God's will that they would succeed. This much had always been clear to Abusir, even if their directions from Imam Muhammad had been murky at times. The Imam had served as a conduit of information from their network overseas, directing them through files imbedded in links accessible through the mosque's website or more urgently through the answering machine.

The recent slew of messages and activity gave him the sense that the timeline for their mission had been compressed. Two days ago, he had been instructed to retrieve an Internet document detailing several methods they might employ to deliver the virus at each target site. Over the past three weeks, they had familiarized themselves with the areas around each pump station, but beyond that, they knew very little about what they would find at each site. Specific details seemed nearly impossible to acquire. They had a black nylon gym bag filled with tools that they might need to access the water supply and would have to rely upon the use of generic schematics to determine the type of system they might find at the site. Once they agreed on the system, they could trace the right schematic to determine the easiest points of access to deliver the canister's deadly contents into the water supply.

He turned the car onto Old Drakeville Road and slowed. Old Drakeville Road was an unlit side road, and the service entrance came up quickly on the right side. He wasn't sure they could easily see the Morris County Municipal Utility Authority sign in the dark. The sign had been difficult enough to find in broad daylight.

"Watch for the sign," he commanded.

He had full faith in his brothers, but as soon as he received the attack order, he ceased to be their friend. He was their commander, to whom they had sworn their undying loyalty, and as such, he didn't ask them to do things. He commanded them. A few tense moments passed as they cruised slower than the speed limit. Fortunately, Old Drakeville Road was a little used side road running roughly parallel to Howard Boulevard and providing access to several smaller businesses that were closed in the evening. They were lucky in this regard. The area along Howard Boulevard was packed with restaurants and retail outlets, all doing a brisk business. Interstate 80 was less than a full kilometer away providing them with a quick escape, if Allah willed it. Abdul was not afraid to die on this mission. He had long ago prepared himself for this eventuality. There was no uncertainty regarding his place alongside fallen brothers in paradise, where a blissful eternity awaited the faithful.

"There it is!" Ibrahim Salih yelled, pointing toward a small, unlit sign partially obscured by thick bushes.

Abdul Abusir applied the brake and took the turn slowly, feeling the crunch of the minivan's suspension as they dropped off the well-maintained blacktop road onto an uneven gravel surface. Google Earth satellite photos showed him that the pump station was located roughly one hundred and fifty meters down the service road, which wound forty-five degrees to the right approximately two thirds of the way to the station. Allah had smiled upon him again. He would be able to use lights up until the turn, without alerting anyone at the station. They would cruise the last fifty meters of the road relying upon the ambient light provided by the station. They would emerge into the pump station's parking lot without warning, achieving complete surprise. He couldn't imagine that the Mount Arlington pump station would be more heavily guarded than the Morristown water complex. Even if there were three cars instead of one, they would cut through these infidel defenders with ease.

"Prepare for heavy contact in the parking lot. When we start shooting, I want it to be over in seconds. A prolonged firefight will attract unwanted attention and alert any pump station duty personnel."

"Allahu Akbar. We cannot fail," Fahid Atef said from the back seat.

Abdul glanced back into the minivan's darkened passenger compartment and saw Fahid cradle the shape of a compact AK-47 assault rifle. Upon returning his attention to the dusty gravel road, he heard Fahid retract and release the rifle's bolt mechanism, seating a 7.62mm round in the weapon's chamber. Fahid passed the rifle to Ibrahim in the front passenger seat and repeated the process with two more rifles. Whatever waited for them at the pump station didn't stand a chance. He was excited to the point of delirium that their final mission was at hand.

"Allahu Akbar!" he yelled.


**

Miguel Estrada watched the minivan turn off Old Drakeville Road onto the Mount Arlington pump station service road. Once the minivan's taillights disappeared into the trees, he opened the driver's door of the Explorer and stepped out into the cool air. The area was silent except for the distant symphony of spring peepers. He rested an arm on the open door and remained perfectly still.

"Do we call it in now?" his partner asked.

"Negative. We give this a minute or two," he said.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Abusir's team had been slightly craftier than they had expected, almost evading his surveillance team in Parsippany. Estrada's team had planted a GPS tracking device on the car Abusir had secretly kept in a storage facility on the outskirts of East Orange. They had discovered the car three months ago when surveillance teams started following Abusir's group. In Parsippany, the team drove into a corporate parking garage and ditched their Nissan Sentra. The move had been planned in advance, since entry into the business park's garage required a pass card. Estrada's team covered both possible exits and waited. Ten minutes later, they spotted Abusir driving a dark blue Honda Odyssey minivan. He couldn't express how relieved he had been to hear that they had reacquired Abusir. Losing him would have put Estrada in a tough situation.

They had little doubt that Abusir's group had been activated to carry out their mission, but knew nothing about their specific target selection. Figuring out Abusir's target was critical to his organization's plan. They had watched him investigate a pump station in Morristown, but nobody had been surprised when the terrorist cell passed on the opportunity. The pump station was located on a busy road, highly visible from every direction, with a police cruiser parked inside the gated facility.

Estrada had put his money on the Mount Arlington pump station, after Abusir had conducted his own surveillance run down Old Drakeville Road two hours earlier. He had been so confident in his guess, that he had returned at dusk and backed the Explorer into a spot twenty feet into the trees and bushes, where he could observe the service road entrance without being detected by cars coming from either direction.

"What are we waiting for? We need to call this in and get the f*ck out of here," his partner said.

"Patience, my friend. Just another minute."

They had chosen Abusir's cell for a reason. The Egyptian-born terrorist ran things differently than the other terrorist cells they had uncovered. He insisted that they all live separately and take daytime jobs. Many of the other cells lived together in the same apartment and did nothing but wait around and draw suspicion from the FBI. Most importantly, Abusir's cell had not been detected by the FBI. Leadership had figured correctly that Abusir would take immediate action to preserve his cell when Ghazi Hamar didn't show up for evening prayer.

This had been important to leadership, since they had little intelligence regarding the interconnectivity between terrorist cells, or the FBI's penetration of the tri-state area Al Qaeda network. They had determined that most of the cells were under routine twenty-four-hour surveillance, but they didn't know if the greater network had been penetrated. They were almost certain that Abusir's cell hadn't been discovered, but they couldn't take even the slightest chance. Once the FBI woke up to discover their handiwork throughout the tri-state area, any surviving cells under immediate surveillance would be locked down. They needed at least one cell to remain operational and receive Imam Muhammad's inevitable orders. This was critical to a plan that had been set into motion nearly a year ago.

Estrada's thoughts were interrupted by staccato bursts of distant gunfire. No doubt he was hearing AK-47s. He knew their sound all too well. The automatic gunfire echoed through the trees, distinctive enough at this distance, but unlikely to attract any serious attention from someone waiting for a table outside of the Cracker Barrel back toward the highway on Howard Boulevard. He'd have to make sure the local authorities took notice.

He reached into one of the pockets on his jacket and produced a disposable cell phone, which he used to dial 911. The call was immediately connected.

"I just heard automatic weapons fire coming from the Mount Arlington pump station! It sounded like a f*cking invasion!" he yelled at the dispatcher.

Within thirty seconds the call was complete, and he was headed back to Howard Boulevard. Both of his additional surveillance teams placed a similar call to 911. As he turned south toward the interstate, he dialed the News 12 New Jersey Tip Line, which would be the first of several calls placed to the media to make sure every American knew that their country was under attack again and that business as usual in Washington wouldn't be enough to protect the public from their greatest fears. This would be the first step on a long, difficult journey to bring this once great nation back to a position of power and respect both here and abroad. Back to the True America our founding fathers had envisioned.