Four hours after leaving his pursuer walking around the parking lot at The Hatch, Kaamil and four of his men solemnly entered the men only prayer hall of the mosque and prepared to say their afternoon prayers. Each of the four had cleansed himself before meeting Kaamil. Each understood the importance of performing their role with the pure and clean intention of pleasing Allah uppermost in their minds. In fact, it was what they had been training for, and dreaming of, since they had been recruited.
When their last prayers were finished, Kaamil led them out of the mosque to a catering van borrowed for the evening. It belonged to a well-known catering company that had used ISIS to screen its employees for an upcoming socialite’s home wedding.
The van had actually been more of a problem to steal than the weapons he had borrowed from the warehouse ISIS maintained in the city. He’d been able to supply each of his men with a HK Mark 23.45 pistol with six twelve round clips and a M4A1 carbine with collapsible stock. Malik had purchased the weapons abroad for his international security service, and then had scattered some of them around the United States for the day they were needed. Today was such a day. No Secret Service detail would be able to stop them.
In case the Senator’s house was more secure than expected, however, Kaamil had two of the M4A1s equipped with M203 grenade launchers. One would carry a special surprise he would use himself.
He wasn’t planning a suicide mission. But if the body armor his men would wear didn’t get them into the Senator’s house to kill everyone there, he would do it himself. If he didn’t, he was probably a dead man anyway for failing Malik again.
The first step was securing a base to launch their attack, and he had just the place in mind.
Chapter 50
After Mike dropped him off at the Flightcraft terminal, Drake picked up his 993 and drove to his office. He didn’t have time to drive back to his farm, and he needed a shower and change of clothes before he met his father-in-law for dinner. Fortunately, both were available at his office.
He called Margo to make sure she didn’t hang around waiting for him.
“What happened?” she asked.
“You’re supposed to say Adam Drake law office, how may I help you, remember?”
“Caller ID, you’re stalling.”
“Save me some money and go home. I don’t want you involved until this is over.”
“Sorry, been with you too long not to be involved. What do you need?”
“A shower and change of clothes. I’m having dinner with the Senator, nothing you can help me with.”
“Paul called, was that you in the helicopter chasing that guy down the Columbia?”
“I went along for the ride, Mike flew the Black Hawk. Look, put a pot of coffee on and go home. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Everything is okay, really.”
Her silence told him she wasn’t convinced.
“Margo, go home, please. I’m just having dinner. There will be plenty of police protection. Take Paul down to McCormick amp; Schmick’s, have some oysters, and put it on the office account. Just stop worrying,” he pleaded and ended the call.
He loved her like a sister, but sometimes she was too protective, too motherly. Not that he minded most of the time. Tonight, though, he needed a quiet moment in his office to clear his mind. Whatever else he thought about the familiar exhilaration he’d experienced when they stopped the terrorists’ attack at the depot, he knew more would die if Kaamil wasn’t stopped.
With that thought, he called Mike.
“Wondering when you’d call. My guys are on their way with the stuff you mentioned. I checked us into rooms in the Crowne Plaza off Kruse Oaks Drive. I’ll be in 301, so join me whenever you’re ready.”
“Outstanding. I’m in my office. After a shower and some coffee, I’m headed your way. How are we set for transportation?”
“Two commercial vans we use for surveillance and my Yukon. You think we need anything else?”
“That’s enough. I’ll drive my car to the Senator’s house. We can park the others on the street. See you in an hour.”
Chapter 51
Kaamil hated the town he was driving through, but he loved the thought of smashing its smug sense of security. He’d grown up in an all-black neighborhood in the virtually all-white city of Portland. Ten miles away from his neighborhood was the suburb of Lake Oswego and its ostentatious displays of wealth. People spent more money here each month taking care of their lawns than his mother had made in a month. Thirty-five thousand people living in a fantasy world, letting their children dress like little whores and drive BMWs to school.
The house he’d chosen as a base of operation was a seven-thousand-square-foot French Country mansion, with a boat dock on the lake. It belonged to a client with an ISIS home security system. Owned by a used-car dealer who had twenty-seven used-car lots spread across the city, it was also just around the point from Senator Hazelton’s home, less than five minutes by boat. It was just what he needed for the night.
At precisely six o’clock, Kaamil drove the borrowed catering van up the driveway and stopped in front of the elaborately carved double doors of the Peterson’s house. He parked the van so their front door was hidden from view, and jumped out wearing the catering company’s uniform. He carried an invoice on a clipboard, and held a silenced HK Mark 23 pistol underneath it. When Mrs. Peterson opened the front door, Kaamil jammed the pistol in her stomach and invited himself inside.
When the door closed behind him, Kaamil dropped the clipboard, grabbing the blond woman’s hair at the back of her head and pulling her close. Her frightened eyes made him smile.
“I don’t want you to say a word, or you’ll die where you stand. And then I’ll kill the rest of your family. Nod your head if you understand me.”
Casey Peterson was beautiful but not dumb. She saw the hate-filled eyes and powerful build of the tall black man holding her hair. She nodded quickly to show she understood.
“Signal with your fingers how many others are in the house right now.”
Casey raised her right hand and signaled with three fingers.
“Does that include your husband and your two children?” Kaamil asked softly.
Casey nodded yes.
“Are you expecting anyone else tonight?”
Casey shook her head no.
“I hope you’re telling me the truth, Mrs. Peterson. Take me to your husband.”
Casey led the way down the main hall to the den. Her husband was watching the news and enjoying his first martini of the evening. Thirty years old and thirty pounds overweight, Ron Peterson didn’t look as handsome as the billboards around the city made him look. When he looked up and saw a man holding his wife and pointing a gun at his head, he didn’t smile as brightly either.
“Stay seated. I asked your wife three questions, and I’m not sure she told me the truth. Too bad for you.” Kaamil shot Ron Peterson execution style. When Casey screamed, he grabbed her hair, yanked her head back, put the.45 beneath her chin and said, “If you lied to me, tell me now or I’ll kill your children. Nod your head if you told me the truth.”
Casey nodded. Kaamil let go of her hair. Then he slapped her with his left hand and gave her his last set of instructions.
“Show me where your children are. I need to borrow your house for a while. If you can keep your children quiet until I leave, I promise they won’t be harmed. Will you do that for me?”
A stunned Casey Peterson nodded before she numbly accompanied Kaamil down the hall to the screening room. The two children were watching a Disney movie when she led Kaamil into the room. She stood frozen as she watched him quickly walk behind each of her children and shoot them in the back of their heads. She hadn’t moved when he turned, walked back, and raised his gun to her head.