Wicked Intentions (Steele Secrurity Book 4) (21 page)

“Roman just called Brad. Ringgold Refineries has just been hit, and the damage is extensive. He’s calling us all in,” Shadow replied stoically.

“Heather?” Rebel held his breath and waited for Shadow to answer his one-word question. The only word that held any meaning to him. The one word that could change his entire life.

“Brad used the GPS tracker on her phone to tell Roman exactly where she was about two minutes ago. Brad said there was a lot of noise in the background, and Roman said multiple bombs had been detonated. The building and refinery are presumed to be a total loss. But since Brad was able to locate her, that tells me her phone was still operable, and that’s a good sign. That’s all I know at this point,” Shadow explained. “Can you handle going to the scene?”

“Try to stop me.” Rebel quickly grabbed his gear, focusing on each task to keep his sanity in check. When he’d finished gearing up, he called over his shoulder as he rushed out the door. “I’m leaving. If you ladies are riding with me, you’d better have your asses in the truck.”

With the team loaded and ready to roll, Rebel slid behind the wheel and took off like a bullet toward the port. The normal travel time from their location averaged just over thirty minutes. Rebel made the trip in less than fifteen minutes with speeds in excess of 120 miles per hour and weaving effortlessly from lane to lane through the traffic.

Nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw when his truck skidded to a halt in the parking lot. He threw it into park, jumped out, and sprinted to the location Brad had given them. The devastation extended as far as he could see. Where the once regal office building had stood was now little more than a pile of rocks, twisted metal, and unidentifiable scraps.

His eyes scanned the area, frantically searching for Heather, when the sight of a man on his knees caught his attention. He was furiously moving the rocks and debris, attempting to tunnel through the carnage. The earth ceased to spin, a vacuum sealed around Rebel and squeezed the oxygen from his lungs, and his heart stopped beating in his chest.

The man hastily digging through the mounds of crumbled concrete was Roman.

“Heather!” Rebel yelled. “Hang on, baby. I’ll get you out of there. Just hang on.”

In the blink of an eye, Rebel was at Roman’s side, moving the large pieces of concrete as if they weighed no more than a pebble. When hands on either side of him grabbed his arms and stopped his progress, he finally looked up.

“Rebel, you have to slow down. You don’t want the weight to shift and cause more to fall on her,” Shadow reasoned. “Methodical and calculated moves are what you need to focus on right now.”

“You’re right.” He sat back, wiped the sweat from his brow, and tried to calm his racing heart and mind.

“This is a giant puzzle, and we have to move it one strategic piece at a time. I’m calling in the search and rescue dogs. Bull, get the professional search and rescue team out here with their equipment. They have cameras and heat-sensing equipment so we don’t waste time digging in the wrong area. We’re going to need all the help we can get,” Noah directed.

“I’ll get security in place. We don’t need news helicopters and crews swarming the place, broadcasting the damage so the radicals can celebrate anything. This all has to stay under wraps for as long as possible,” Shadow added.

He made a few quick phone calls and, within minutes, the entire area was cordoned off by members of the National Guard. Military and police helicopters patrolled a wide perimeter to prevent civilian aircraft from entering the airspace. Off-duty National Guard members showed up in force to assist with the search and rescue operation.

While all the plans and preparations were being made by the professionals, Rebel maintained his focus on finding his wife by moving one piece at a time. One of the dog handlers approached Rebel and spoke in a calm and reassuring manner.

“Hey, I’m Tim, and this pretty little lady is Robin. Would you mind if we help you search?”

Rebel turned to look at Tim, but he found himself face-to-face with Robin instead. Her expressive milk chocolate eyes pleaded with him to let her do her job. As if the black Labrador felt his pain, she slowly extended her snout and lovingly licked his face.

“I’d love to have some help. Thanks, Tim,” he replied as he scratched behind the dog’s ear. “And thank you, Robin. I really needed that.”

R
ashad watched all
the commotion from inside the port while keeping a safe distance away from the blasts. A fiendish smile crawled across his face at the thought of seeing his mission come to fruition. The infidels had interfered with his country, his beliefs, and his family for long enough. His intentions were to prove how vulnerable the arrogant people really were, while bringing them to their knees. Part one of the current plan was well underway and coming together as expected.

He’d been warned against lingering in the port after he’d detonated the bombs, but he’d decided to take his chances. For his father, his brother, and his cause, he was obligated to see it through to the end. To him, it meant the difference in dying an honorable and worthy death, and dying a shameful and irrelevant death. A job only half completed would be dishonorable and prevent him from collecting his heavenly rewards.

The excitement that had been lacking in his life all the years he had been in the US built inside him with each explosion. With every piece of debris, shrapnel, and projectile flying from the refinery site, his elation increased from knowing he’d been instrumental in ensuring its complete destruction. Secondary explosions from the spreading fire in the fields were like a sign from Allah, praising him for his work and awarding him with a double portion for his good deeds.

The pride he felt when the first bomb detonated in the office quickly grew to a crescendo of arrogance and superiority. The final bomb in the office building culminated in the climax of his egotism. “I will be immortal now, transcending all time. Songs will be written and sung about me for the rest of time.”

He’d rigged the final bomb with special care and a singular purpose in mind. The first set of bombs caused widespread devastation, but C-4 made a more impactful statement, in his opinion. The enormous, heat-generating blast was easily activated with his remote detonator and would’ve created an impressive explosion on its own, but the flowing oxygen from the tanks he’d procured from the hospital helped create an even more powerful force. Watching the giant ball of fire roll through several floors at the top of the building was the greatest vision he’d ever beheld. Every news outlet in the world would carry footage of his creation, memorializing his name and his innovation forever.

His cell phone began to ring just as the building made its final descent. “Yes.”

“You should be well on your way to New Orleans by now. What is your current location?”

Rashad had visions of killing the man calling all the shots and giving the orders on their mission. He obeyed because he’d been ordered by his cleric to follow every command. His cleric—his teacher—was wise and was the most knowledgeable man in Islamic law he knew. For those reasons, he’d followed the rules and allowed the interloper to meddle in matters he had no business in.

Of course, he’d followed all orders with the exception of leaving the port immediately after the first explosion.

“I’m in the truck, still in the Port of Houston, making sure everything goes off without a hitch.”

The silence on the other end of the line contradicted the outrage and condemnation simmering just under the surface.

“Get out of there right now,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“The blasts in the second site haven’t been triggered yet. Something could be wrong, and I may need to improvise. I can’t do that from five hours away.”

“You know as well as I do those bombs will detonate with or without you. As soon as they move the first crate, they’ll all blow. Hell, even if the cargo ship slightly rocks from a wave, that’s all it needs. Move your ass before you ruin this for both of us.”

“As you wish,” Rashad replied coolly, waiting for the day of his revenge.

“You’re too damn late,” he growled. “The fucking National Guard has been mobilized. They’re shutting down everything and everyone in and out of the port right now. Find somewhere to park that fucking truck, get out of it, and then stay the hell out of sight.” He then hung up before Rashad could respond.

“Yours is coming, my friend. Very soon, you will no longer be protected,” Rashad hissed to his silent phone.

He fired up the diesel engine of the eighteen-wheeler and pulled out of his current parking spot overlooking the devastation he’d created. Several other trucks had been rerouted away from the crime scene, so he took the opportunity to fall in line with them. When they pulled into an enormous parking lot lined with one truck after the other, he smirked to himself at the brilliance of his simple hiding spot.

After he gathered his belongings that could potentially identify him from the cab of the truck, he took off on foot toward the waterway. Rashad knew from his research shutting down the port was no small feat, nor was the decision to prevent any ships from entering or leaving the area. With the enormous ships now stationary and the exits blocked by military personnel, he only had to find a seat and wait for the real fireworks to begin.

* * *

“
S
ilas Steele
, CIA,” he introduced himself and extended his hand.

“Kevin Robbins, Port Authority Officer. Good to meet you.”

“I need your help, Kevin. I’m afraid this isn’t over, and something just isn’t adding up for me. Can you help me out?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“Pull up the security tapes from just before the first explosion,” Silas directed. “Start with the refinery plant area first.”

“You got it.”

The multiple flat screens that covered the wall displayed varying images around the port. Kevin keyed in the coordinates of the refinery field and brought up every recording that captured any angle of it in the camera’s range of view. Together, they reviewed each frame in the few minutes prior to the initial blast. Silas memorized where every person, vehicle, and piece of equipment was located, filing it away for easy comparison when something different jumped out at him.

An eighteen-wheeler tanker truck pulled up beside one of the large vats, and a crew of men moved toward it, gathering connectors and large hoses to begin the transfer of refined petroleum. The driver’s door opened, and a pair of legs swung out into view. The driver handed the ground crewman his orders and stepped out of the big rig. Ground crew members had begun to make the connection from the vat to the truck when the blast filled the screen.

The instantly mangled truck became a deadly projectile, the damaged equipment and free-flowing gasoline became all the accelerant the fire needed to rage out of control instantaneously. Everyone in a fifty-yard vicinity of the blast was killed, and many more well past that range were severely injured.

Silas paused the recording and stared at the screen in disbelief. He noted the exact time of the blast from the recording. “Kevin, can you pull up the office building security tapes and start just a few seconds before this time?”

“Sure,” he replied, clearly shaken from the graphic scene he’d just watched. When the digital recording reached the time Silas requested, Kevin put the image on the bigger screen in the middle of the wall. He had a hunch why Silas had requested that recording. “Here it is.”

With his gaze carefully watching both the building and the time, Silas waited for what he knew in his gut was about to happen. At precisely the same time as the truck exploded, one end of the office building disappeared in an enormous blast of energy. Both bombs were on the same detonator, and the person holding that trigger had to be nearby. He quickly stopped the recording, unwilling to watch any further at that point because it simply hit too close to home.

“Kevin, can you trace the truck back to when it first entered the port? See if it stopped anywhere else, let anyone out, dropped anything off. Let’s get a good look at the driver, possibly tie him to others who conspired in this attack. We need to take them all down.”

“I’ll gladly help with that. Let me know if you need an alibi.”

Kevin and Silas watched the truck in rewind as it wound through the streets of the enormous industrial area. It only stopped when required. No one got in or out. Nothing was removed or put inside it. When they reached the port gates, the camera angle switched to the one on the guard’s station, giving them a close-up view of the driver.

“Son of a bitch.” Silas had hoped he was wrong when he saw the driver on the recording get out of the truck just before the blast. The mannerisms were the same, but he’d hoped he was wrong regardless.

“You know him?”

“Yeah. I know him. He was actually a pretty good kid. Just recently got a job here and was looking forward to being able to move to a better place soon. His name was Reuben Silva.” Silas rubbed his forehead and exhaled forcefully. He’d just watched one of his confidential informants get blown up, the image forever burned into his memory.

“Hey, he said his friend Gustavo got a job here at the same time. If they’re being used as pawns, his vehicle could be rigged too. Can you link into his truck’s GPS and see where he is?”

“Absolutely. What’s his last name?”

“Montes.”

With a few clicks on his computer, he had signed in to the truck monitoring system the port maintained. “His truck is currently parked in the shipping yard cargo area. We had to use it as an overflow area for trucks because of the attack—nothing moving in or out right now.”

“Get on the radio and get everyone out of that lot right now. Don’t send any men into it, but contact anyone who’s in there and tell them to get out. They need to leave their trucks behind. I’m on my way over to check out that truck. Jot down the license plate and description of his truck for me.”

“I’ll do ya one better than that. I’ll print a live shot picture so you can see exactly where it is and everything surrounding it, too. Take the security Jeep parked outside.” Kevin tossed the keys to Silas.

“You’re a good man, Kevin.”

With the picture in hand, Silas jogged out to the Jeep and squealed the tires when he pulled out of the parking lot.

“Noah,” Silas yelled into his phone. “There may be another truck with a bomb in the port. I’m on my way over to check it out.”

“What truck?”

Silas gave Noah a condensed version of what he’d just learned and where he was headed. “I’ll be in touch soon. Or you’ll hear a big bang. Either way, I’ll let you know what I find.”

When he reached the overflow lot, people were rushing away from the area in droves. He had no doubt the word was quickly spread regarding the possibility of another bomb. He skidded to a stop just behind the eighteen-wheeler assigned to Gustavo and cautiously approached it. He squatted low to the ground and frequently checked underneath the trailer for explosive devices. He moved along the side of the truck to the cab and slowly opened the driver’s door.

He climbed up on the step and peered inside, carefully checking every possible hiding place, before moving toward the sleeping quarters. When he pulled the curtain back, Gustavo’s lifeless face stared back at him.

“Shit!” Jerking his phone from his pocket, he called the Port Authority office.

“Robbins.”

“Kevin—I need your help again. Can you find when this truck pulled into the overflow lot? Can you see when someone get out of it? And if so, can you get me a picture?”

“Based on where it’s parked, I can check some of the trucks around it and see when they came in. That’ll help narrow down a time when he pulled into that lot. Give me a sec, and I’ll call you back.”

While he waited for Kevin’s return call, Silas walked to the back of the truck and very cautiously checked the locks before opening it. He knew with every move, he could set off another explosion, killing himself and others in the process. But if he didn’t check and it hid a bomb on a timer, the results would be just as devastating. When he was confident he could safely get in the trailer, he swung the metal doors open as far as they would go, letting the failing sunlight illuminate the inside. Then he took a step back as his breath hitched in his chest.

His cell pinged and vibrated simultaneously with a text from a local number, startling him and making him jump. When he opened it, he found pictures from Kevin showing Rashad as he climbed out of the truck and left the parking lot on foot.

“Fucking hell!” he roared and hit Noah’s number again. “He’s here, Noah. He’s still in the port. There’s another truck with bombs in the trailer. I’m going in to disarm them now. There are multiple bombs connected to one timer, rigged to all go off at once. He parked it and left on foot. Gus is dead in the cab.”

“You need help disarming it? I can be there in thirty seconds.”

“It’s a simple trigger, bro. This isn’t one of his more sophisticated ones. I got this. Keep looking for Heather. Get everyone else looking for Rashad. He’ll try to walk out of here after dark. I’m forwarding you a text with pictures of him getting out of the truck. Share it with everyone.”

“On it. And Silas? Be careful.”

“Always.”

Moving slower than he’d ever moved in his life, Silas climbed into the trailer and inched toward the bomb. “These damn bomb lovers, they always make something tricky in them. They have to outsmart everyone else. Not this time, dickhead. Not this time.”