San Simon, Arizona
The Mazda turned off of East Bound Interstate 10, looping out into the desert briefly before turning back and crossing over the freeway and then continuing parallel just north of it. Martha Carrillo did not notice any of this or the Truck Stop she passed as she continued East. Her elderly mother had not answered the phone this morning. With but rare exceptions, Lesnie Ramirez was always up before dawn and working her garden or cleaning her home. Well into her seventies Lesnie was very stubborn, refusing to allow anyone to live with here or to move into a care home. Martha kept trying to mentally convince herself that it was probably the phones were down, but could not keep herself from thinking something was wrong.
She continued down the road as scrub brush and sand passed by, occasionally broken up by a trailer, tower, or house that looked like the arid conditions had worn the building down, before finally entering into the small town and turning left on San Simon Street and going the remaining block to her mothers trailer. She could see her mother’s car parked in front of the dusty brown double wide. Martha pulled in next to it and turned off her engine and got out. Almost immediately she knew everything was wrong. Besides a light breeze nothing moved or made a sound. No dogs barking, no sounds of kids playing or cars moving. A sense of dread began to form in her mind as she stepped forward and moved up to the door and knocked. The sound of her knuckles rapping the wooden door sounded like a serious of gunshots, but her attention was on the door that slowly pushed open under the weight of her knock.
“Madre!” she called out as she cautiously pushed the door all the way open and stepped inside. Almost immediately the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand up. “Madre!” she called out louder as she looked around. While everything seemed in place, it felt as if the trailer had been violated, kind of like that feeling after walking in to your home and knowing some one had broken in and robbed you before you saw the evidence. Martha moved through the rooms calling out to her mother in hopes of finding her. Slowly she made her way back towards the back of the trailer where her mother’s room was located. The door was open ahead but no movement could seen. Then she stopped dead in her tracks. A noise could be heard emanating from the room. A buzzing noise like a low drone sent shivers of fear down her spine as she slowly moved forward again. When she finally made it to the door and looked in, all she could do was scream in horror and anguish at the body of her mother laying on the bead covered in flies. A scream that all in the tiny town would have heard had it not been for the fact that Martha was currently the only living person there.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Chapter 3.1
Douglas Arizona
Cindel woke to the pounding on the door and looked over at the clock on the nightstand next to the bed. The red glow of the numbers showed it was five in the morning. With a groan she rolled up and walked naked across the room and threw the door open. McCormick turned his head at the sound of the door opening and began to say something, but instead stood there with his mouth open. Before him stood Cindel, her pale skin seeming to glow in the semi darkness while her red curls cascaded down her shoulders but stopped short of her bare breasts. For nearly a minute he stood there somewhat in shock and somewhat in lust at what stood before him before Cindel broke his entrancement.
“Take a picture why don’t you!” she said impatiently. McCormick’s head snapped up at her words.
“Umm, sorry.” he said sheepishly and cleared his throat. “I was coming to get you. Washington will be on the phone in an hour and I figured you would want to have a chance to get dressed, eat, and review any new data that came in over night.”
“Food sounds good.” She said with an expression of weariness as she gestured for him to enter. “Coffee would be better though.” She turned away and headed for the bathroom door as McCormick entered and closed the door behind him. From inside the bathroom the sound of the shower being turned on could be heard. McCormick went over to the bed and sat down before reaching for the phone and dialing in a number. He had just finished hanging up when Cindel returned with a towel wrapped around her damp hair and went to her open luggage and began to remove the clothes she would wear for the day.
“I ordered to have coffee and food delivered to the command center.” Said McCormick looking up. “I have the residue and fragments analysis from both sites for you as well.”
“Read them to me” said Cindel as she slipped into her business slacks.
“The residue found is a combination of Sulfur, Carbon, and Potassium Nitrate.” He said flipping through the pages in the folder.
“Basically gun powder.” She said as she finished dressing and began drying her hair.
“Better then that. Black Powder. The original stuff.” He replied. “They don’t even use black powder anymore, even in re-enactments with antique or replica weapons. Everyone has gone to a substitute that is more efficient called Pyrodex.”
“So what is the difference between the two?” said Cindel.
“Pyrodex has all the same components as black powder, with the addition of graphite and potassium perchlorate.” He said. “While any one can probably make black powder, hardly any one does as there is no market for it.”
“So if no one really makes it anymore, then how is it that enough was around to be used to fuel those cannons we saw in the video sticking out of the trailer?” she asked. “Can we get some idea of where the components are from?”
“We can try, but this is not exactly like tracking Uranium to find out where it was manufactured. The abundance of the material would make it difficult to ascertain anything like that.” Said McCormick. “And the odds of it being manufactured outside of the States would make it pretty much impossible.”
“What about the fragments?” Cindel said as she finished getting ready and indicated the door. McCormick stood and moved to the indicated direction while still reading the file.
“The fragments come from an iron shell filled with black powder.” He started.
“So basically a cannon ball?” she cut him off.
“Actually no.” he said. “A cannon ball refers to a specific type of projectile also referred to as a round shot. It is a solid iron ball that was meant to plow through objects and destroy things as it bounced along. A shell is similar to a cannon ball but is hollowed out and filled with black powder then capped with a fuse, usually made of cloth wrapped around black powder. Once the fuse hit the powder, the combustion would stress the iron shell and cause it to fragment and be launched as lethal projectiles. Kind of like a modern grenade only larger.”
The two of them reached the vehicle and got in. McCormick handed the file over to Cindel then started the engine and backed out of the parking stall. Cindel began flipping through the pages slowly reviewing the data.
“You know, when I have imagined someone attacking the United States, I have always imagined something bigger.” She said aloud. “Nukes, chemical or biological weapons, even large trucks filled to the brim with homemade explosives. Not archaic weapons that do a little damage.”
In case you didn’t notice,” said McCormick, “the police station suffered more then a little damage.”
“That’s not what I mean.” She fired back defensively. “In the grand scheme of a terrorist attack, you want to do as much damage as possible. Level a city block, kill thousands of people, and so forth. Not blow up a mostly empty police station. Something about this whole incident does not feel right. No one is claiming responsibility. The entire attack in fact seems to have been engineered to stall the police while the attackers pillaged the town. Not exactly what I call a terrorist attack. More like a tactical well planned robbery on a large scale.”
“So you think this is not the work of terrorist?” McCormick said slowly.
“I don’t know for certain, but this whole thing just does not feel right.” She replied.
The vehicle parked at the opposite end of the hotel near the conference room that had been taken over for use as the command center. Both of them got out and approached the door being guarded by a local sheriff officer who nodded at them as they passed. The room was filled with several people from a variety of agencies. Few looked up as they entered. Most were to busy looking over computer data or on phones discussing their findings with their agencies. Cindel and McCormick moved past them to a divided off area that was her desk and conference area. The conference table had recently been set with trays of coffee and pastries. Cindel grumbled her displeasure at the basic fare and grabbed a cup of coffee. She had barely sat down when several of the individuals came into the conference area and sat down at their designated seats. A speaker phone could be heard dialing and then the conference started.
Cindel woke to the pounding on the door and looked over at the clock on the nightstand next to the bed. The red glow of the numbers showed it was five in the morning. With a groan she rolled up and walked naked across the room and threw the door open. McCormick turned his head at the sound of the door opening and began to say something, but instead stood there with his mouth open. Before him stood Cindel, her pale skin seeming to glow in the semi darkness while her red curls cascaded down her shoulders but stopped short of her bare breasts. For nearly a minute he stood there somewhat in shock and somewhat in lust at what stood before him before Cindel broke his entrancement.
“Take a picture why don’t you!” she said impatiently. McCormick’s head snapped up at her words.
“Umm, sorry.” he said sheepishly and cleared his throat. “I was coming to get you. Washington will be on the phone in an hour and I figured you would want to have a chance to get dressed, eat, and review any new data that came in over night.”
“Food sounds good.” She said with an expression of weariness as she gestured for him to enter. “Coffee would be better though.” She turned away and headed for the bathroom door as McCormick entered and closed the door behind him. From inside the bathroom the sound of the shower being turned on could be heard. McCormick went over to the bed and sat down before reaching for the phone and dialing in a number. He had just finished hanging up when Cindel returned with a towel wrapped around her damp hair and went to her open luggage and began to remove the clothes she would wear for the day.
“I ordered to have coffee and food delivered to the command center.” Said McCormick looking up. “I have the residue and fragments analysis from both sites for you as well.”
“Read them to me” said Cindel as she slipped into her business slacks.
“The residue found is a combination of Sulfur, Carbon, and Potassium Nitrate.” He said flipping through the pages in the folder.
“Basically gun powder.” She said as she finished dressing and began drying her hair.
“Better then that. Black Powder. The original stuff.” He replied. “They don’t even use black powder anymore, even in re-enactments with antique or replica weapons. Everyone has gone to a substitute that is more efficient called Pyrodex.”
“So what is the difference between the two?” said Cindel.
“Pyrodex has all the same components as black powder, with the addition of graphite and potassium perchlorate.” He said. “While any one can probably make black powder, hardly any one does as there is no market for it.”
“So if no one really makes it anymore, then how is it that enough was around to be used to fuel those cannons we saw in the video sticking out of the trailer?” she asked. “Can we get some idea of where the components are from?”
“We can try, but this is not exactly like tracking Uranium to find out where it was manufactured. The abundance of the material would make it difficult to ascertain anything like that.” Said McCormick. “And the odds of it being manufactured outside of the States would make it pretty much impossible.”
“What about the fragments?” Cindel said as she finished getting ready and indicated the door. McCormick stood and moved to the indicated direction while still reading the file.
“The fragments come from an iron shell filled with black powder.” He started.
“So basically a cannon ball?” she cut him off.
“Actually no.” he said. “A cannon ball refers to a specific type of projectile also referred to as a round shot. It is a solid iron ball that was meant to plow through objects and destroy things as it bounced along. A shell is similar to a cannon ball but is hollowed out and filled with black powder then capped with a fuse, usually made of cloth wrapped around black powder. Once the fuse hit the powder, the combustion would stress the iron shell and cause it to fragment and be launched as lethal projectiles. Kind of like a modern grenade only larger.”
The two of them reached the vehicle and got in. McCormick handed the file over to Cindel then started the engine and backed out of the parking stall. Cindel began flipping through the pages slowly reviewing the data.
“You know, when I have imagined someone attacking the United States, I have always imagined something bigger.” She said aloud. “Nukes, chemical or biological weapons, even large trucks filled to the brim with homemade explosives. Not archaic weapons that do a little damage.”
In case you didn’t notice,” said McCormick, “the police station suffered more then a little damage.”
“That’s not what I mean.” She fired back defensively. “In the grand scheme of a terrorist attack, you want to do as much damage as possible. Level a city block, kill thousands of people, and so forth. Not blow up a mostly empty police station. Something about this whole incident does not feel right. No one is claiming responsibility. The entire attack in fact seems to have been engineered to stall the police while the attackers pillaged the town. Not exactly what I call a terrorist attack. More like a tactical well planned robbery on a large scale.”
“So you think this is not the work of terrorist?” McCormick said slowly.
“I don’t know for certain, but this whole thing just does not feel right.” She replied.
The vehicle parked at the opposite end of the hotel near the conference room that had been taken over for use as the command center. Both of them got out and approached the door being guarded by a local sheriff officer who nodded at them as they passed. The room was filled with several people from a variety of agencies. Few looked up as they entered. Most were to busy looking over computer data or on phones discussing their findings with their agencies. Cindel and McCormick moved past them to a divided off area that was her desk and conference area. The conference table had recently been set with trays of coffee and pastries. Cindel grumbled her displeasure at the basic fare and grabbed a cup of coffee. She had barely sat down when several of the individuals came into the conference area and sat down at their designated seats. A speaker phone could be heard dialing and then the conference started.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Chapter 2.3
Near Bowie Arizona
The coyote watched the mouse scurry into the bush as patiently as it could. It was not much as a meal, but the animal could not afford to be choosy. The darkness around it seemed to be complete. Even the black river that smelled of death was quite. No beasts with bright eyes racing by trying to smash the coyote under it as it had seen happen so often to other animals. Tonight it could hunt in peace. The mouse suddenly burst from its hiding place and was running straight towards it. The hunter leaned back and prepared to pounce when it realized something was wrong. The mouse ran right past it as it tried to make sense of what did not seem right. A subtle vibration could slowly be felt in the pads of the creature’s feet. It’s ears went up trying to catch any sound that could indicate the source of the vibration while its dark eyes searched for any movement that could be a threat.
In the distance its ears finally detected the sound of something heavy moving on the road near by. A low growl rumbled from its throat as it backed away cautiously, then finally turned and darted off into the desert night. The noise continued to echo louder across the land for several minutes before a large dark black shape passed where the animal had been. For several miles the shape moved through the night, the sound of its diesel engine the only indication it existed. Then a glow appeared on the horizon before it. Moments later the town of Bowie could be seen with the Interstate passing near it. The jet-black semi approached then finally turned of Apache Pass Road and onto the on ramp to East Bound I-10.
The truck continued down the Interstate with out any lights, and no one seemed to notice in the early morning hours. Then after fifteen minutes of traveling the vehicle left the freeway just past the small green sign indicating the small community of San Simon could be reached by taking the exit. The truck rolled down the off ramp and towards the small sleeping community of small building and trailers surrounded by yards of sand and scrub brush. Before it entered the town limits, the engine turned off and the vehicle drifted down the road silently into the street lamps where it finally stopped near what would be considered the town center.
For several minutes nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then a figure jumped out of the cab and moved back towards the trailer. Before he got there, the doors opened and several figures dropped down. No words were exchanged as they separated and disappeared into the shadows of the community. The few screams were never heard by anyone. It was about an hour before sunrise when they had finished and the truck was once again on the I-10 heading East and moving towards the New Mexico State Line.
The coyote watched the mouse scurry into the bush as patiently as it could. It was not much as a meal, but the animal could not afford to be choosy. The darkness around it seemed to be complete. Even the black river that smelled of death was quite. No beasts with bright eyes racing by trying to smash the coyote under it as it had seen happen so often to other animals. Tonight it could hunt in peace. The mouse suddenly burst from its hiding place and was running straight towards it. The hunter leaned back and prepared to pounce when it realized something was wrong. The mouse ran right past it as it tried to make sense of what did not seem right. A subtle vibration could slowly be felt in the pads of the creature’s feet. It’s ears went up trying to catch any sound that could indicate the source of the vibration while its dark eyes searched for any movement that could be a threat.
In the distance its ears finally detected the sound of something heavy moving on the road near by. A low growl rumbled from its throat as it backed away cautiously, then finally turned and darted off into the desert night. The noise continued to echo louder across the land for several minutes before a large dark black shape passed where the animal had been. For several miles the shape moved through the night, the sound of its diesel engine the only indication it existed. Then a glow appeared on the horizon before it. Moments later the town of Bowie could be seen with the Interstate passing near it. The jet-black semi approached then finally turned of Apache Pass Road and onto the on ramp to East Bound I-10.
The truck continued down the Interstate with out any lights, and no one seemed to notice in the early morning hours. Then after fifteen minutes of traveling the vehicle left the freeway just past the small green sign indicating the small community of San Simon could be reached by taking the exit. The truck rolled down the off ramp and towards the small sleeping community of small building and trailers surrounded by yards of sand and scrub brush. Before it entered the town limits, the engine turned off and the vehicle drifted down the road silently into the street lamps where it finally stopped near what would be considered the town center.
For several minutes nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then a figure jumped out of the cab and moved back towards the trailer. Before he got there, the doors opened and several figures dropped down. No words were exchanged as they separated and disappeared into the shadows of the community. The few screams were never heard by anyone. It was about an hour before sunrise when they had finished and the truck was once again on the I-10 heading East and moving towards the New Mexico State Line.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Chapter 2.2
It was nearly midnight by the time she finally entered her motel room and tossed her bags on the bed. The rest of the morning had been tied up with setting up the command center in city hall, followed immediately by a conference call with her boss, the Cochise County Sheriff, the Douglas Police Chief, and the directors for the FBI, ATF, and the Secretary of Homeland Security. At one point as they were all coming on line a fear the President himself would be on the line struck her. Fortunately the President would get his report from the rest of in attendance, at least for now. The city mayor and several others paced outside waiting for any information that would answer their questions. At the time she did not have time for them. Video footage was reviewed along with forensic evidence that had so far been collected. A public statement calling the incident a criminal attack by Mexican Cartels was to be issued to the press. They of course left out the part that they had not yet been found, nor the fact they never left the country.
After the conference call had concluded, she and McCormick had driven out to the demolished Port of Entry to look at the scene. It was worse to look at in person then via videotape. Glass and metal shards were still strewn about the ground, and the chalk outline of where Officer Armando Lopez was found still surrounded the red stain from the blood loss that eventually took his life. Looking down the paved road across the border, cars could be seen lined up and people milling about. The Mexican Media was easy to spot from all the lights they had, centered on the reporters taping feeds for the populace to watch. It was one of the reasons a public statement was finally agreed upon. While the U.S. Government could keep them out of the country, they could not force a media black out in another.
The two of them finally left the scene and grabbed some fast food on their way back to the make shift command center where they made sure they were up to date, filed their reports, then finally headed to the motel they would be staying at. Now she fell on the bed too tired to take her clothes off but to full of adrenaline to go to sleep. She continued staring up at the ceiling going over everything she had seen and heard that day. Questions hammered away at her mind as she reflected over it all. Why the attack? What happened to the missing civilians? More importantly how do you lose an all black semi with a pirate flag in the middle of nowhere? Finally her eyes could no longer keep up with her brain and closed. Images of destruction were eventually replaced with the nothingness of sleep.
After the conference call had concluded, she and McCormick had driven out to the demolished Port of Entry to look at the scene. It was worse to look at in person then via videotape. Glass and metal shards were still strewn about the ground, and the chalk outline of where Officer Armando Lopez was found still surrounded the red stain from the blood loss that eventually took his life. Looking down the paved road across the border, cars could be seen lined up and people milling about. The Mexican Media was easy to spot from all the lights they had, centered on the reporters taping feeds for the populace to watch. It was one of the reasons a public statement was finally agreed upon. While the U.S. Government could keep them out of the country, they could not force a media black out in another.
The two of them finally left the scene and grabbed some fast food on their way back to the make shift command center where they made sure they were up to date, filed their reports, then finally headed to the motel they would be staying at. Now she fell on the bed too tired to take her clothes off but to full of adrenaline to go to sleep. She continued staring up at the ceiling going over everything she had seen and heard that day. Questions hammered away at her mind as she reflected over it all. Why the attack? What happened to the missing civilians? More importantly how do you lose an all black semi with a pirate flag in the middle of nowhere? Finally her eyes could no longer keep up with her brain and closed. Images of destruction were eventually replaced with the nothingness of sleep.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Chapter 2.1
Douglas Arizona
Cindel stepped off the plane into the morning heat of the Bisbee Douglas International Airport. Around her the heat rolled off the tarmac under the mid morning sun causing the air around her to shimmer. Ground crews raced in to collect her baggage and secure the jet until it was time for her to leave. In front of here was the black government Suburban ready to take her away from the heat of the airport and transport her to an equally hot area in the middle of the desert. Standing in front of the vehicle was a man in a black suit despite the sun and heat. He was taller then her and with dark hair and athletic build hidden under the standard agent suit all in the FBI seemed to wear.
“Officer Drake?” he asked as she approached the vehicle. The standard issue sunglasses made it difficult to see his eyes. She nodded to him in acknowledgement. “Agent McCormick” he said as he reached out his hand. Cindel ignored it as she walked past him and opened the door to get in. The cold air stored inside rushed out immediately like an artic breeze and was replaced with the heat of a oven in the few seconds it took her to get in and close the door. She reached forward to shift the vent to blow directly on her as McCormick moved around the vehicle climbed into the driver’s seat. The rear of the vehicle briefly opened again sucking out what little of the cool air had built up in the vehicle as her bags were tossed in back and the door closed. McCormick put on his seat belt and started to shift the vehicle into gear then stopped and turned to face Cindel.
“Look, I know this may seem like the ass end of the country, but it will not be any better if we cant be civil in any way to each other.” He said.
“I am here to do a job.” She snapped with out looking at him. “Unless you have not been paying attention we have terrorist running loose through the countryside. Civil is not a luxury we have right now!” McCormick sat there for a second looking at her, his eyes and reaction hidden by the dark glasses. Finally he turned forward and shifted the vehicle into gear and started to pull away.
“You know I was warned you were not the friendliest of people to work with.” He said nonchalantly. “Hopefully this will not prevent us from being able to do our jobs!”
“I will do my job!” she retorted, her face getting redder. “You make sure you do yours!”
“I plan to.” He fired back a slight grin coming to his face. “Its not my boss threatening to pull my assignment if I cant play nicely!” Cindel opened her mouth to explode on the agent then stopped. She reminded herself that this was her opportunity and like it or not she could not lose it to something so stupid as her temper.
She kept her mouth shut the ten-minute drive down the highway to Douglas. She did not bother to look at the landscape as it rolled by. Instead she just thought about focusing on the job while mulling over the subtle threat she had just been handed. She did not doubt what he had said. The meeting with Allen left no doubt that she was a last minute choice and that if the opportunity rose to put a more stable and experienced officer into the lead of the investigation, that he would do it no questions asked.
She was still mulling it over when the vehicle turned into the circle in front of the police station. It was not till they came to a stop that she snapped out of it and looked out the window. Most of the front of the building was missing while the ruins of the rest still had smoke in spots. She got out of the vehicle and made her way to the yellow tape that indicated the edge of the crime scene and stepped under it. Almost immediately a police officer rushed towards her with a hand on his holstered gun. Before he could even open his mouth she had removed her badge and flashed it in his direction with out even looking at him. The officer slowed and relaxed as she passed him looking at the ground. Concrete, rebar, stucco and bricks were scattered across the ground for some distance.
“Bricks?” she muttered to herself.
The police station used to be the towns train depot.” McCormick replied. “The building is over one hundred years old and considered a landmark of sorts. Instead of tearing it down, they just built over it to suit the needs for the station.” Cindel gave him no indication she had heard him and continued looking at the ground.
“The truck that attacked the Port of Entry was parked here when they attacked the station.” She said as a matter of fact.
“We are still working on determining that.” McCormick answered her.
“No, this is where the truck was parked.” She looked at him for the first time since their meeting at the airport. “Look at the debris field. It is scattered all over the place except at this point there does not appear to be much debris. Seeing as it is directly in front of station and the initial clear zone is about the length of a semi and trailer, this is where the truck was parked. The semi must have blocked the path of the projectiles from the explosions.” McCormick looked at the ground and saw she spoke the truth.
Both walked carefully towards the building where a group of individuals wearing the blue windbreakers with the yellow lettered ATF logos on the back were milling about. Off to their left were several more men wearing the same jackets only this time FBI in white was emblazoned. All seemed to be too busy taking pictures, making measurements, and collecting evidence to notice the new arrivals. McCormick broke away and moved towards his peers leaving Cindel to stand and look around at the scene.
“First time at a bombing scene?” came the male voice next to her. Cindel jumped and turned to find an ATF agent standing next to her. “Sorry didn’t mean to startle you. Agent Jackson ATF.” Next to her was an African American that stood about her height.
“Officer Drake CBP.” She responded.
“Nice to meet you.” He said with a smile. “You’re the lead Homeland Security sent for this I take it. Don’t worry, me and the other agents are working as fast as we can and hope to have as much as you need by the noon briefing.”
“Make it eleven Agent Jackson!” she said with authority in her voice. She noted the man seemed to bristle next to her. Thoughts of McCormick’s earlier comments at the airport raced through her mind causing her to mentally sigh. “Please. Washington needs as much information as fast as possible, especially before the bureaucrats need to go home for dinner.” Jackson seemed to relax and a smile appeared on his face at the inside joke.
“No problem ma’am.” He said. “Will have as much information from both sites ready for you.”
“Thank You Agent Jackson.” She said with a forced smile. As he turned away from her, she noticed McCormick approaching.
“Ready to head to the next site?” he asked.
“Not yet she said thoughtfully.” She replied somewhat in thought. “Take me to the hotel so we can get ready for the agency briefings and conference call with D.C. Lets let the experts do their job collecting the information and us do ours in coordinating.” She turned and carefully picked her way back to the vehicle. McCormick looked at her walk away for a moment perplexed, then followed after her.
Cindel stepped off the plane into the morning heat of the Bisbee Douglas International Airport. Around her the heat rolled off the tarmac under the mid morning sun causing the air around her to shimmer. Ground crews raced in to collect her baggage and secure the jet until it was time for her to leave. In front of here was the black government Suburban ready to take her away from the heat of the airport and transport her to an equally hot area in the middle of the desert. Standing in front of the vehicle was a man in a black suit despite the sun and heat. He was taller then her and with dark hair and athletic build hidden under the standard agent suit all in the FBI seemed to wear.
“Officer Drake?” he asked as she approached the vehicle. The standard issue sunglasses made it difficult to see his eyes. She nodded to him in acknowledgement. “Agent McCormick” he said as he reached out his hand. Cindel ignored it as she walked past him and opened the door to get in. The cold air stored inside rushed out immediately like an artic breeze and was replaced with the heat of a oven in the few seconds it took her to get in and close the door. She reached forward to shift the vent to blow directly on her as McCormick moved around the vehicle climbed into the driver’s seat. The rear of the vehicle briefly opened again sucking out what little of the cool air had built up in the vehicle as her bags were tossed in back and the door closed. McCormick put on his seat belt and started to shift the vehicle into gear then stopped and turned to face Cindel.
“Look, I know this may seem like the ass end of the country, but it will not be any better if we cant be civil in any way to each other.” He said.
“I am here to do a job.” She snapped with out looking at him. “Unless you have not been paying attention we have terrorist running loose through the countryside. Civil is not a luxury we have right now!” McCormick sat there for a second looking at her, his eyes and reaction hidden by the dark glasses. Finally he turned forward and shifted the vehicle into gear and started to pull away.
“You know I was warned you were not the friendliest of people to work with.” He said nonchalantly. “Hopefully this will not prevent us from being able to do our jobs!”
“I will do my job!” she retorted, her face getting redder. “You make sure you do yours!”
“I plan to.” He fired back a slight grin coming to his face. “Its not my boss threatening to pull my assignment if I cant play nicely!” Cindel opened her mouth to explode on the agent then stopped. She reminded herself that this was her opportunity and like it or not she could not lose it to something so stupid as her temper.
She kept her mouth shut the ten-minute drive down the highway to Douglas. She did not bother to look at the landscape as it rolled by. Instead she just thought about focusing on the job while mulling over the subtle threat she had just been handed. She did not doubt what he had said. The meeting with Allen left no doubt that she was a last minute choice and that if the opportunity rose to put a more stable and experienced officer into the lead of the investigation, that he would do it no questions asked.
She was still mulling it over when the vehicle turned into the circle in front of the police station. It was not till they came to a stop that she snapped out of it and looked out the window. Most of the front of the building was missing while the ruins of the rest still had smoke in spots. She got out of the vehicle and made her way to the yellow tape that indicated the edge of the crime scene and stepped under it. Almost immediately a police officer rushed towards her with a hand on his holstered gun. Before he could even open his mouth she had removed her badge and flashed it in his direction with out even looking at him. The officer slowed and relaxed as she passed him looking at the ground. Concrete, rebar, stucco and bricks were scattered across the ground for some distance.
“Bricks?” she muttered to herself.
The police station used to be the towns train depot.” McCormick replied. “The building is over one hundred years old and considered a landmark of sorts. Instead of tearing it down, they just built over it to suit the needs for the station.” Cindel gave him no indication she had heard him and continued looking at the ground.
“The truck that attacked the Port of Entry was parked here when they attacked the station.” She said as a matter of fact.
“We are still working on determining that.” McCormick answered her.
“No, this is where the truck was parked.” She looked at him for the first time since their meeting at the airport. “Look at the debris field. It is scattered all over the place except at this point there does not appear to be much debris. Seeing as it is directly in front of station and the initial clear zone is about the length of a semi and trailer, this is where the truck was parked. The semi must have blocked the path of the projectiles from the explosions.” McCormick looked at the ground and saw she spoke the truth.
Both walked carefully towards the building where a group of individuals wearing the blue windbreakers with the yellow lettered ATF logos on the back were milling about. Off to their left were several more men wearing the same jackets only this time FBI in white was emblazoned. All seemed to be too busy taking pictures, making measurements, and collecting evidence to notice the new arrivals. McCormick broke away and moved towards his peers leaving Cindel to stand and look around at the scene.
“First time at a bombing scene?” came the male voice next to her. Cindel jumped and turned to find an ATF agent standing next to her. “Sorry didn’t mean to startle you. Agent Jackson ATF.” Next to her was an African American that stood about her height.
“Officer Drake CBP.” She responded.
“Nice to meet you.” He said with a smile. “You’re the lead Homeland Security sent for this I take it. Don’t worry, me and the other agents are working as fast as we can and hope to have as much as you need by the noon briefing.”
“Make it eleven Agent Jackson!” she said with authority in her voice. She noted the man seemed to bristle next to her. Thoughts of McCormick’s earlier comments at the airport raced through her mind causing her to mentally sigh. “Please. Washington needs as much information as fast as possible, especially before the bureaucrats need to go home for dinner.” Jackson seemed to relax and a smile appeared on his face at the inside joke.
“No problem ma’am.” He said. “Will have as much information from both sites ready for you.”
“Thank You Agent Jackson.” She said with a forced smile. As he turned away from her, she noticed McCormick approaching.
“Ready to head to the next site?” he asked.
“Not yet she said thoughtfully.” She replied somewhat in thought. “Take me to the hotel so we can get ready for the agency briefings and conference call with D.C. Lets let the experts do their job collecting the information and us do ours in coordinating.” She turned and carefully picked her way back to the vehicle. McCormick looked at her walk away for a moment perplexed, then followed after her.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Chapter 1.2
Chief Customs and Border Protection Officer George Allen closed the door behind her as she entered and took a seat at the conference table. Around the table were several of the Supervisory Customs and Border Protection Officers and another low level officer like herself to take notes. No sooner had she sat down than the lights dimmed and the flat screen monitor at the end of the room came on.
“At approximately oh three forty five this morning our border at Douglas Arizona was penetrated.” monotoned Allen. “Our only witness reports that a Semi and trailer jet black in color and bearing no markings pulled into a car lane and then opened fire with cannons from both sides of the trailer, heavily damaging the Port of Entry and killing one officer in the booth area that had stepped out to inspect the vehicles. The truck and trailer then proceeded with out further hindrance across the border and into the town of Douglas Arizona. The witness, a fellow border officer on break immediately put forth a call to the Douglas Police Department to assist.” On the screen images of the destroyed plaza played out for all in the room to see. Allen looked around the room for a moment to take in the expressions on those seated around the table. Most were professionals and continued to look unemotionally at him. The two lower ranked officers though had not been around long enough to hide their emotions during a crisis and stared back at him with open mouths.
“Two Douglas Police officers arrived on scene within three minutes and reported the destruction of the plaza and calling for all available units to respond. Approximately twelve minutes later the Douglas Police Department building was destroyed by explosives as of yet unidentified type.” The images changed from the plaza to the remains of the police station. A soft gasp was heard from the other end of the table. “A dispatcher was injured in the attack and Douglas Police Sergeant William Johns who was leaving the station at the time of the attack is reported missing. Cochise County Sheriff’s office was contacted and all available deputies were dispatched to render aid in the two attack locations.”
“What about cameras at both the port of entry and the police station?” one of the men at the table asked?
“The tapes from the port of entry have been secured.” Allen responded. “Those from the police station are still being obtained. It should be also noted that during the chaos of the aftermath of the two attacks the city of Douglas was further witness to hostile attackers. Witness reports a group of bikers rampaged across the city looting stores and tearing ATM machines out of several bank locations. At this time it has also been reported that at least twelve citizens were kidnapped or reported missing. One witness reports seeing the bikers loading the aforementioned black semi with the stolen property and kidnapped individuals before the truck then departed the city believed to be heading East on Highway 80. An APB has been issued for the truck and trailer with the Arizona State Police, and bordering county’s sheriff departments. A roadblock was established on highway 80 South west of the small town of Apache. The stretch between Douglas and Apache is desolate with very few turnoff that a truck would be able to go along. But so far no sightings of the suspect vehicle have been reported.”
“Our involvement?” asked another of the supervisors.
“At this time the incident is being classified as a suspected Terrorist attack by foreign agents now moving freely within the United States. The Secretary of Homeland Security has been briefed and is on his way to the White House as we speak. Under his directive we are to initiate an immediate investigation, coordinating with the Federal Bureau of Investigation on leads so that these terrorist can be captured before they can initiate any more attacks. All reports of this incident are currently restricted from the media, though for how long I can’t say. I am sure they will notice the Advisory Scale going to Orange and be knocking on doors to learn why soon enough. In the mean time all media sources are to be directed to the Media Relations Liaison at the Department of Homeland Security. In the mean time all supervisors are to report to their departments and begin work on finding out who perpetrated these attacks and where they have gone to ground. I want every available member of the CBO in the office immediately. All departments are to coordinate through my office.” Allen looked around the table for a few seconds and stared at the seated individuals. “Yesterday people!” he shouted. Chaos broke around the table as all seated began to jump out of their seats and move to the door and their departments.
“Officer Drake, you stay!” came the shout from Allen as she tried to make her way out the door with the rest. She stopped and was immediately bumped into by a couple of individuals directly behind her. After a brief moment of untangling herself she turned to face Allen standing alone in the room. “Close the door behind you and have a seat.” He directed her.
“I am sure you are wondering why you were in here.” Said Allen after she had sat down. She shook her head in his direction. She had wondered why a low level officer had been called into a Supervisor’s briefing. Normally her department sergeant would have briefed her after the meeting took place.
“Cindel.” He began. She cringed at the informal use of her name. A name she did not really care for to be honest. Her hippie parents had been huge fans of fantasy back in the seventies and made the name up because if sounded “elfish”. Since she had entered adulthood and had no middle name, she had simply used her last name.
“I have been watching your career for some time.” He said. “You are a gifted officer with skills that most of those above you could only wish they possessed. Yet your temper and impatience has been a serious concern with your supervisors and myself for some time as well. Unless you can prove you can control it, I am afraid you will never be able to get the promotions you want here.” Cindel’s face began to redden both from anger and embarrassment. She knew what he said was true, but he didn’t have to be so blunt she thought. She began to open her mouth to fire a retort back at him but was silenced by a stern look before she could.
“I would listen instead of talk if I were you right now!” he said sharply. “You know what I have said is true. Right now I have a dilemma. I have to have an officer in the air heading towards Arizona in the next thirty minutes. And I have many officers here who are more accomplished and better suited for this assignment then you. But they are all currently assigned to other investigations and it will take too long to retask everyone around so that there is no lapse in the investigations. To long for what is needed right now. Of those officers not on assignment you are the best we have. So until something can be done to free up a better officer, your it!”
Cindel stared back at him for a moment in shock, mostly from the brutally honest comments towards her then the fact she was being given her first lead assignment. Her mind raced to find the appropriate equally brutal response while her subconscious fought as hard as it could to lock her jaws and prevent the torrent from spewing into the room. Her already pale hands began to turn even paler as all the blood was squeezed out of them from her grip on the arms of the chair she was seated in. Allen noted this and saved her from herself.
“Unless at best you want to spend the rest of your career standing in a port of entry booth,” he said as her subconscious finally lost the battle of wills, “I would say thank you sir, I’ll do my best and leave to catch your plane!” Cindel looked at him for a second taken aback. Her mind raced for the response she had composed moments before, thought better of it and repeated his words. A smile broke across his face as she turned and moved to the door.
She walked briskly to her desk mulling over the conversation as she did so. She needed to stop and focus on the task at hand. At the desk she grabbed brief case and began placing the paper work being dropped on her desk concerning the case. A minute later she snapped it closed, grabbed the airline ticket from the officer arriving at her desk, and along with her travel bag moved to the door to catch her flight. Twenty minutes later she sat in a government small jet as it leapt into the air and raced west into the early morning light.
“At approximately oh three forty five this morning our border at Douglas Arizona was penetrated.” monotoned Allen. “Our only witness reports that a Semi and trailer jet black in color and bearing no markings pulled into a car lane and then opened fire with cannons from both sides of the trailer, heavily damaging the Port of Entry and killing one officer in the booth area that had stepped out to inspect the vehicles. The truck and trailer then proceeded with out further hindrance across the border and into the town of Douglas Arizona. The witness, a fellow border officer on break immediately put forth a call to the Douglas Police Department to assist.” On the screen images of the destroyed plaza played out for all in the room to see. Allen looked around the room for a moment to take in the expressions on those seated around the table. Most were professionals and continued to look unemotionally at him. The two lower ranked officers though had not been around long enough to hide their emotions during a crisis and stared back at him with open mouths.
“Two Douglas Police officers arrived on scene within three minutes and reported the destruction of the plaza and calling for all available units to respond. Approximately twelve minutes later the Douglas Police Department building was destroyed by explosives as of yet unidentified type.” The images changed from the plaza to the remains of the police station. A soft gasp was heard from the other end of the table. “A dispatcher was injured in the attack and Douglas Police Sergeant William Johns who was leaving the station at the time of the attack is reported missing. Cochise County Sheriff’s office was contacted and all available deputies were dispatched to render aid in the two attack locations.”
“What about cameras at both the port of entry and the police station?” one of the men at the table asked?
“The tapes from the port of entry have been secured.” Allen responded. “Those from the police station are still being obtained. It should be also noted that during the chaos of the aftermath of the two attacks the city of Douglas was further witness to hostile attackers. Witness reports a group of bikers rampaged across the city looting stores and tearing ATM machines out of several bank locations. At this time it has also been reported that at least twelve citizens were kidnapped or reported missing. One witness reports seeing the bikers loading the aforementioned black semi with the stolen property and kidnapped individuals before the truck then departed the city believed to be heading East on Highway 80. An APB has been issued for the truck and trailer with the Arizona State Police, and bordering county’s sheriff departments. A roadblock was established on highway 80 South west of the small town of Apache. The stretch between Douglas and Apache is desolate with very few turnoff that a truck would be able to go along. But so far no sightings of the suspect vehicle have been reported.”
“Our involvement?” asked another of the supervisors.
“At this time the incident is being classified as a suspected Terrorist attack by foreign agents now moving freely within the United States. The Secretary of Homeland Security has been briefed and is on his way to the White House as we speak. Under his directive we are to initiate an immediate investigation, coordinating with the Federal Bureau of Investigation on leads so that these terrorist can be captured before they can initiate any more attacks. All reports of this incident are currently restricted from the media, though for how long I can’t say. I am sure they will notice the Advisory Scale going to Orange and be knocking on doors to learn why soon enough. In the mean time all media sources are to be directed to the Media Relations Liaison at the Department of Homeland Security. In the mean time all supervisors are to report to their departments and begin work on finding out who perpetrated these attacks and where they have gone to ground. I want every available member of the CBO in the office immediately. All departments are to coordinate through my office.” Allen looked around the table for a few seconds and stared at the seated individuals. “Yesterday people!” he shouted. Chaos broke around the table as all seated began to jump out of their seats and move to the door and their departments.
“Officer Drake, you stay!” came the shout from Allen as she tried to make her way out the door with the rest. She stopped and was immediately bumped into by a couple of individuals directly behind her. After a brief moment of untangling herself she turned to face Allen standing alone in the room. “Close the door behind you and have a seat.” He directed her.
“I am sure you are wondering why you were in here.” Said Allen after she had sat down. She shook her head in his direction. She had wondered why a low level officer had been called into a Supervisor’s briefing. Normally her department sergeant would have briefed her after the meeting took place.
“Cindel.” He began. She cringed at the informal use of her name. A name she did not really care for to be honest. Her hippie parents had been huge fans of fantasy back in the seventies and made the name up because if sounded “elfish”. Since she had entered adulthood and had no middle name, she had simply used her last name.
“I have been watching your career for some time.” He said. “You are a gifted officer with skills that most of those above you could only wish they possessed. Yet your temper and impatience has been a serious concern with your supervisors and myself for some time as well. Unless you can prove you can control it, I am afraid you will never be able to get the promotions you want here.” Cindel’s face began to redden both from anger and embarrassment. She knew what he said was true, but he didn’t have to be so blunt she thought. She began to open her mouth to fire a retort back at him but was silenced by a stern look before she could.
“I would listen instead of talk if I were you right now!” he said sharply. “You know what I have said is true. Right now I have a dilemma. I have to have an officer in the air heading towards Arizona in the next thirty minutes. And I have many officers here who are more accomplished and better suited for this assignment then you. But they are all currently assigned to other investigations and it will take too long to retask everyone around so that there is no lapse in the investigations. To long for what is needed right now. Of those officers not on assignment you are the best we have. So until something can be done to free up a better officer, your it!”
Cindel stared back at him for a moment in shock, mostly from the brutally honest comments towards her then the fact she was being given her first lead assignment. Her mind raced to find the appropriate equally brutal response while her subconscious fought as hard as it could to lock her jaws and prevent the torrent from spewing into the room. Her already pale hands began to turn even paler as all the blood was squeezed out of them from her grip on the arms of the chair she was seated in. Allen noted this and saved her from herself.
“Unless at best you want to spend the rest of your career standing in a port of entry booth,” he said as her subconscious finally lost the battle of wills, “I would say thank you sir, I’ll do my best and leave to catch your plane!” Cindel looked at him for a second taken aback. Her mind raced for the response she had composed moments before, thought better of it and repeated his words. A smile broke across his face as she turned and moved to the door.
She walked briskly to her desk mulling over the conversation as she did so. She needed to stop and focus on the task at hand. At the desk she grabbed brief case and began placing the paper work being dropped on her desk concerning the case. A minute later she snapped it closed, grabbed the airline ticket from the officer arriving at her desk, and along with her travel bag moved to the door to catch her flight. Twenty minutes later she sat in a government small jet as it leapt into the air and raced west into the early morning light.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Chapter 1.1
Washington D.C.
She was deep in a moment of passion. The man’s sweaty body atop her and the pulsing feeling of the building orgasm caused her to start to moan in a buzzing like sound. This caused her to hesitate for a moment at the strange sound coming from her until the next wave started to break across her body. She opened her mouth to scream in ecstasy only to hear that annoying buzz pass from deep within her. This ruined the moment, as her curiosity seemed to take over the thoughts of pleasure she had been enjoying. She began to ask her partner what that buzzing noise was, but instead all that passed her lips was that now annoying buzzing sound.
Her eyes opened to a dark bedroom. It took a moment for her eyes to settle in on her surroundings. Her bed was of course empty as usual. It had all been a dream. A horrible, sadistic, thoroughly delicious, and enjoyable subconscious thought of her imagination. Or at least she was until that noise had interrupted her. The sudden buzzing noise again could be heard causing her to jump momentarily at the sound she had thought was her imagination. Rolling over angrily she picked up the phone and looked at the clock on her nightstand. The illuminated numbers showed it was five thirty in the morning. Annoyance welled up in her mind at the thought that some idiot had woke her up thirty minutes before her alarm and interrupted her wonderful dream.
“Who ever this is better be calling to tell me someone important has died!” she shouted into the phone. For a moment the line was filled only with the light crackling and hum of the connection.
“Agent Drake?” said the male voice hesitantly.
“Yes!” she snapped into the phone
“Officer Drake, you are to go immediately to your office and report to CCBPO Allen with travel pack” said the voice with more authority. “Please confirm!”
“Confirmed. Can you tell me what is…” The line disconnected before she could finish. She pondered what could be so important that they could not wait for her to arrive in 3 and a half hours for the beginning of her normal day shift. Probably another snipe hunt for non-existent terrorist she thought.
She tossed the phone back to the nightstand and slowly rolled out of the bed groaning in protest. The sheet fell away to reveal her naked body. Her cream colored skin seemed to radiate its own soft light in the darkness, highlighting the smooth skin that covered her sleek muscles. She was easily mistaken for a young twenty something gym girl, even though she was actually thirty-one. Of course she stayed that way with working out, though her gym was one that the twenty something crowd could only dream of ever seeing if they were allowed to know it even existed. She reached up into a stretch that allowed her fingers to get caught in her long curly deep red hair, before rubbing it briskly and stepping into the bathroom. All she knew as she stepped into the shower of hot water was that this had better not be yet another assignment of sitting in a car for weeks watching some abandoned house because some idiot thought they saw a terrorist go there. Then the hot water hit her skin and all thoughts of work and dreams faded away with the water draining at the bottom of the shower.
She was deep in a moment of passion. The man’s sweaty body atop her and the pulsing feeling of the building orgasm caused her to start to moan in a buzzing like sound. This caused her to hesitate for a moment at the strange sound coming from her until the next wave started to break across her body. She opened her mouth to scream in ecstasy only to hear that annoying buzz pass from deep within her. This ruined the moment, as her curiosity seemed to take over the thoughts of pleasure she had been enjoying. She began to ask her partner what that buzzing noise was, but instead all that passed her lips was that now annoying buzzing sound.
Her eyes opened to a dark bedroom. It took a moment for her eyes to settle in on her surroundings. Her bed was of course empty as usual. It had all been a dream. A horrible, sadistic, thoroughly delicious, and enjoyable subconscious thought of her imagination. Or at least she was until that noise had interrupted her. The sudden buzzing noise again could be heard causing her to jump momentarily at the sound she had thought was her imagination. Rolling over angrily she picked up the phone and looked at the clock on her nightstand. The illuminated numbers showed it was five thirty in the morning. Annoyance welled up in her mind at the thought that some idiot had woke her up thirty minutes before her alarm and interrupted her wonderful dream.
“Who ever this is better be calling to tell me someone important has died!” she shouted into the phone. For a moment the line was filled only with the light crackling and hum of the connection.
“Agent Drake?” said the male voice hesitantly.
“Yes!” she snapped into the phone
“Officer Drake, you are to go immediately to your office and report to CCBPO Allen with travel pack” said the voice with more authority. “Please confirm!”
“Confirmed. Can you tell me what is…” The line disconnected before she could finish. She pondered what could be so important that they could not wait for her to arrive in 3 and a half hours for the beginning of her normal day shift. Probably another snipe hunt for non-existent terrorist she thought.
She tossed the phone back to the nightstand and slowly rolled out of the bed groaning in protest. The sheet fell away to reveal her naked body. Her cream colored skin seemed to radiate its own soft light in the darkness, highlighting the smooth skin that covered her sleek muscles. She was easily mistaken for a young twenty something gym girl, even though she was actually thirty-one. Of course she stayed that way with working out, though her gym was one that the twenty something crowd could only dream of ever seeing if they were allowed to know it even existed. She reached up into a stretch that allowed her fingers to get caught in her long curly deep red hair, before rubbing it briskly and stepping into the bathroom. All she knew as she stepped into the shower of hot water was that this had better not be yet another assignment of sitting in a car for weeks watching some abandoned house because some idiot thought they saw a terrorist go there. Then the hot water hit her skin and all thoughts of work and dreams faded away with the water draining at the bottom of the shower.
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