7
Petr
An apartment, Washington D.C.
“Sir, I have a report.”
“Very well,” the graveled voice came over Petr’s burner phone. Petr had no idea who exactly was on the other end, but the signature growl was easily distinguishable.
“Sir, Pavel and most of the Zoric family were apprehended Friday night. He and Musclav did not play their roles today. We ran into other problems as well.” Petr tried to hide the fact that his shaking was making his teeth rattle.
The man on the other end of the line did not appreciate problems, and he tended to make them, and all those who allowed them to happen, go away, quickly and permanently.
Petr waited for a response and, getting none, continued with his report. “Once the communication was received that our team should proceed with the Saints Assault, we began immediately by putting surveillance on the Levinski’s home. St. Clair is in Illinois at Navigational Defense, Inc. Their headquarters is hosting an extended fishing and hunting weekend. St. Clair is not expected back until Wednesday.” Petr paused again, silence met him. “The Levinski children left Monday morning, much earlier than was expected.” He traded the phone from one hand to the other as he swiped the sweat from his palms. “They were accompanied by their driver, who also serves as their body guard, as well as the nanny. The father is on a buying trip to Bern, Switzerland – there is an annual jewelry show. The mother left at the same time. As far as we can tell, the parents are together out of the country.”
“Good.”
The single syllable shut down Petr’s thought process, and he blinked several times before he could realign the sequence of events he was relating. “The Levinski children were taken to the pediatrician’s office. Then they took the girl and the nanny home. The driver took the boys to school.”
“Did you collect the girl at her home?”
“No, sir. We were directed to make no contact outside of the school, and too if she is too ill for school, keeping her alive in the next stage might have been a challenge thereby creating further problems with St. Clair.”
“Agreed.”
Petr swallowed the glob of phlegm that was choking him. “Nadia and I followed the boys to the school. I walked right in behind them. I shot the bodyguard, and Nadia grabbed the boys. They ran with her easily, thinking that she was saving them, I’m sure. They were put in the van and given a drink dosed with rohypnol. My last report from the courier is that both boys are still asleep, and they are still about five hours outside of Panama City, Florida. Our boat is sitting off the coast waiting for them to approach.”
“I was extremely displeased to see that the school was not destroyed. The authorities will know that the children are missing, and there will be a national search for them. This will brighten the fears of the Americans and movement could become difficult.”
“Yes, sir. I believe, though, that the authorities might just now—or maybe not even yet–be realizing that the boys are missing.”
“How is this?”
“The parents and St. Clair are out of town as I explained. The Levinski’s nanny is French speaking and has very poor English so will not be watching American media. The daughter, Rebeca, is ill and may not ask for her brothers. And the bodyguard who is in charge of their transportation is dead. His body has not yet been identified, according to news reports. That might take days to accomplish, they’ve reported. Also, on Mondays, the boys have sports classes, they often eat in a restaurant and do not return home until around this point in the evening.”
“Yes, but the boys are still five hours from the shore line, you said.”
“The GPS shows the van reached Jacksonville, Florida, and has already turned west. Authorities will not think to spread their search to that distance.”
“You do not think that the authorities are already wise to the children’s disappearance? The school would not apprise them?”
“No, sir, Nadia and I walked in with her young son just behind the bodyguard. The boys had not signed in yet. The school believes all three of the Levinski children were absent today. Nadia grabbed the boys and her young son yelled to the boys to run for their lives. Nadia’s son was very handy in getting the boys to believe that Nadia would save them. Also, I should report that there were three other adults in the area. I made sure that no one who saw the incident survived to tell what it was they saw. I removed identification and keys from the bodyguard and drove his car away.”
This was met with silence. Petr knew that to babble on with details would not be a wise move. He forced himself to wait. Silently. His bowls cramped.
“So it was the others who failed.”
“Sir, there should not have been a failure. Everything was going according to plan – better than we could have hoped. The gunmen herded the children. The explosive trucks parked against either side of the school ready for detonation. All was readied.”
“What was the mechanism for the bombs’ detonation?”
“A cell phone device so that we maintained control should our timing not work out the way we had planned. Since we were jamming cell phone signals to prevent emergency calls, this would necessitate a time after our team evacuated, that the jammers were stopped from inside the school, and then our call made from a distance. To this end, we had a jihadist from the Paraguayan camp who wished to be a martyr. And this is as far as we proceeded.”
“Why is this?”
Petr sucked in a long breath, filling his chest to capacity. “We had given ourselves seven minutes from evacuation. At the six-minute mark, our point man, the jihadist, would need to deactivate the jammers. At the seven-minute mark our phone call was made. The call did not activate the bombs. At first we believed the jihadist had forgotten to take the pill that would calm his nerves and had gotten what the Americans call ‘cold feet.’ Or perhaps, he took the medication and it had affected him in an unintended manner. But this was not the case. The FBI had arrived on scene. They entered the auditorium and the jihadist shot himself before the six-minute mark.
“You are sure he is dead?”
“That, sir, I do not know. I can only report what was on the news. Perhaps the Americans have taken him into custody and do not wish anyone to know. It is possible. But doubtful. There were many reporters there watching. They arrived even before the police and ambulances. I’m sure they were counting the bodies as they were removed. And the children, of course, were in the auditorium with him. And this is what they said happened.”
“The jihadist is dead. Well that at least is good news.”
“Indeed – though he knew little of the plans and spoke no English, he had heard names and seen faces in the transport. It is better that he is now enjoying his rewards. However, there is an interesting piece of information that was gathered.”
The voice on the other end of the line grunted.
“Our team followed the mission plan as if we were not already in possession of the boys. When they got to Caleb’s room the teacher had followed the protocol one expects from American teachers — lights out, door locked, children stuffed into a corner of the room blanketed by the teacher. That door was easily kicked in.” Petr sniffed and swallowed, trying to clear his throat, giving himself another moment before he had to reveal this new piece of information. “This was not true of Ari’s class.”
“Oh?” For the first time, the voice rose in energy.
“Gillian Molloy’s classroom was barricaded. The team used C-4 to blast open the doorway. The students weren’t in the room. But the door had been secured from the inside. The only other way out of the room was through the windows; and because of the dip in the land, this classroom was effectively on the second floor. The team checked the windows. One was unlocked, and there was a rope ladder hanging down from the sill.”
“They knew we had targeted the boy?”
“It would seem. Though, that isn’t logical is it? Why would Ari be protected and not Caleb?”
“Ari was the first born of the twins.”
“Still, sir, in this culture the extra caution for one and not the other makes little sense. I left Jones at the school to watch how things transpired after Nadia and I drove away. Jones reported that a single class had disappeared, and they had had word that a single teacher had evacuated her class to the woods. They sent an operative and her dogs after the children to tell them it was safe to return. It was confirmed that the teacher was Gillian Molloy, and it had been Ari’s class hidden in the trees. It seemed odd to me at the time, so I’ve instructed Jones to keep an eye on where Molloy went following the incident. Jones reported that the people with whom she was driving used a team and counter-surveillance moves to lose a tail. They would have succeeded, but Jones had taped his phone under the woman’s bumper, and it was quite easy to get the GPS coordinates. She remains under surveillance.”
“Hmph. Here, listen they are talking about it on the news now. Turn your TV to Channel 13 News.”
“Yes, sir, I will call you back.” Petr touched the phone to release the call and closed his eyes for a brief moment of respite, before he reached for the remote, and turned to Channel 13.
“And welcome back. It’s time for Hound News with Lisa Hassel, and Berry Greg — America’s number one trusted news team for sniffing out the truth.”
Berry slid to the edge of the round couch he shared with his colleague. Lisa sat to his right in a bright pink, skin-skimming, mini-dress. Berry swiveled to Lisa. “Tonight, I smell a rat.”
She nodded. “Me too.”
“A big fat rat. Did you all see where our reporter caught a rather angry conversation between St. Basil’s heroine first-grade teacher and the FBI?” Berry looked directly in the lens so that all of America knew he was talking to them personally. “Does anyone else think it was rather odd? This Miss Molloy – is that her name?” He swung toward Lisa for confirmation.
“Gillian Suzanne Molloy,” Lisa piped in. “But she goes by Suz.”
“Right, so tonight we find out that the FBI is looking for two children Ari and Caleb Levinski who are students at St. Basil’s school. The children vanished–poof–into thin air.” Berry snapped his fingers and flailed his arms about his head like a magician. “We know for a fact that the three Levinski children visited their pediatrician’s office early this morning. We know for a fact that the older sister Rebecca was sent home sick with her nanny, but the boys were sent on to school.”
Lisa raised her eyebrows then dropped them emphatically as she said, “They haven’t been heard from since.”
“One of the deceased adults was unknown, and wore an empty shoulder holster. His picture was identified by the Levinski family’s nanny as the family’s driver and bodyguard. He would have left his fire arm in the glove compartment since he was on school property. Imagine if this trained guard had been allowed to have his gun with him. He might be alive. He might have protected the school staff. Taken down the bad guys. Saved the children — but for these senseless gun prohibition laws, keeping guns out of the hands of the good guys. . .” Berry shook his head mournfully.
“A driver/bodyguard and a nanny? This Levinski family is very wealthy.”
“Multi-millionaires. As are many of the families’ of the students at St. Basil’s Prep which is one of the preeminent private schools in our area. Were Ari and Caleb Levinksi taken by the terrorists? And why?” He paused dramatically. “This Suz Molloy person was apparently Ari’s teacher. Now, we don’t know for sure if these boys were targeted or if they happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. But we do know that Suz Molloy was the only teacher who was able to get her entire class out of the building and hide them in the woods.” Berry cocked his head to show his skepticism about this scenario.
“The only one with door barricades. The only one with an escape ladder from a second-floor window.” Lisa’s eyes danced as she got into the swing of their back and forth.
“The only one with a trail that she could follow through the woods and MREs and hot sacks ready in a back pack.” Berry paused and spoke again directly to the American viewers. “Does this smell bad to anyone else?”
“Here’s the other thing that strikes me as really odd,” Lisa pushed forward, not to be outdone. “The first responders were an FBI SWAT team in full battle uniforms with explosive sniffing dogs, and a bomb team. They showed up before a single call went out.”
“But Lisa, they said they had actionable intelligence.”
“Sure they did,” she nodded. “From inside the school – from their operative this Miss Molloy woman. That’s what I think happened.”
“You’re right. The FBI had to have known all along something bad was happening and had planted Suz Molloy as a first-grade teacher in that targeted child’s class.”
“Was she even really a teacher?”
“Perhaps. . .” Berry strung the word out with a “where are you going with this?” tip of the head.
“I’d bet she wasn’t really a teacher but held a fake teachers’ license provided by the FBI when they were putting together her cover story.”
“Fake credentials are easy enough for the Bureau to fabricate, aren’t they?” Berry yanked at the knot to loosen his tie as he got excited. “She was probably posted there to keep an eye on things. Otherwise, how did the FBI SWAT team show up in such a timely manner? – No one could call out for help. The phone lines had been cut and the cell phones had been jammed. The janitor had sprinted to a nearby subdivision to get help.”
“So you feel sure, Berry, that she was an FBI Special Agent?”
“Let’s say she was CIA, operating in the US illegally. She could have been a part of an ongoing sting to take down a Muslim terrorist cell and got word to the FBI to come in and stop things before they got out of control.”
“That makes a lot of sense. The terrorists could be Muslim. Has the CIA denied that Molloy’s their operative?”
Berry shook his head with pure disdain. “The CIA has been tight lipped about Miss Molloy’s association. They aren’t admitting to anything. They’re certainly not claiming her as one of their own.”
“I thought the CIA and FBI were adversarial even though they’re supposed to be working together through Homeland Security. That might actually explain why Molloy got angry when she was talking to Special Agent in Charge Damion Prescott. He’s kind of a big deal.”
Berry considered that for a moment. “What choice did the CIA have other than to bring the FBI in? It’s illegal for them to operate in the US.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Lisa uncrossed her legs and crossed them in the other direction. The camera panned down to capture the move and was reluctant to find her face again after resting the focus on her legs. “The CIA is permitted to act within the US to address the specific areas of foreign intelligence, counter-intelligence, and terrorism. But they do intelligence not law enforcement.”
“So ostensibly the CIA thought their intelligence gathering was more important than those four victims lives? More important than the potential threat to hundreds of our countries precious children?”
Lisa’s shoulders drooped. “Apparently so.”
“Let me get this straight. A CIA operative, using the fake name Suz Molloy, sat on international Muslim terror plot information and in the last minute decided to do the right thing and call in the FBI? Called in the nick of time to save most of the students but not in time to save the adults? Seems to me that she’ll be facing second degree murder charges. I would say the St. Basil deaths fit the definition: ‘a killing caused by dangerous conduct and the offender's obvious lack of concern for human life.’ Is there a warrant already out for her arrest?”
“They don’t need one,” Lisa replied. “Molloy knows too much. Having all of the information she has about the Muslim’s future attacks on our nations’ children, means she’s a liability to the United States. Her spilling the beans on what she knows would alert the Muslim’s that they should stop their plans and make new ones. The government can’t allow her to publicly disclose the information, they’re trying to protect other schools where like plots are probably being hatched as we speak. More attacks could come any day now. Tomorrow even.”
“The Patriots Act says they can scoop her up and imprison her without counsel or due process and hold her as long as they like.”
Now Lisa’s angry face glowered into the camera lens. “Serves her right for putting our American children in the hands of Muslim terrorists the way she did.”
“What do you bet we never hear anything about her again?”
“That would be par for the course. Yet another CIA plot to try to protect the president from being impeached for crimes against American citizens. For being soft — protecting Muslims whose only goal is to take over our great nation and make it a country governed by Sharia law.”
Berry shook his head. “Horrible. What kind of woman hands American children over to Muslim terrorists just because the President ordered her to? Hasn’t she ever heard of the Nuremburg Trials? She’s going to jail for life. Being ordered to commit atrocities by your leader is not a defense.”
Lisa pat her hands onto the tight fabric stretching over her thighs. “There you have I folks–Apparently, our president ordered Suz Molloy to endanger America’s most precious treasure, our children.” She paused then a smile lit up her face. “Stay right there, we’re going to take a quick break to pay the bills, and we’ll be right back to discuss the newest science quackery that’s being put out there to convince you that there is actually change happening to our climate.”
As the newscasters laughed, Petr knocked back a shot of vodka. How did the American’s know about their plan with enough time to plant the CIA operative as a teacher? He quick dialed his cell phone. “Jones, are you still following the teacher?”
“I am. She’s at a townhouse just over the New Jersey state line. There are no journalists here. It’s quiet.”
“Sit tight. I need to make a plan.”