Make it Happen: A Vigilante Series crime thriller Page 3

  “I flew in from Paris on Thursday,” Al-Tashid replied. “I don’t have any fixed travel plans yet but there are several cities I wish to visit so I expect to stay for a couple of weeks, perhaps longer. I do want to meet with you during that time, whenever and wherever you think would be most appropriate.”

  “I will have to check my schedule but it shouldn’t be a problem,” said Mohammad. “Travelling is certainly not an issue. Perhaps New York City?”

  “I do intend to visit there,” Al-Tashid agreed. “Let me know when.”

  “Very well,” said Mohammad. “Is there any particular reason for this meeting?”

  “By the time we meet, we will know the extent of the damage your attack caused and the governments on both sides of the border will be in a turmoil,” Al-Tashid replied with a smile, “Which will give us ample reason to celebrate. I assume you intend to claim responsibility?”

  “I do indeed,” Mohammad vowed. “I will take a day or so to prepare my declaration and must determine the best way to transmit it.”

  “Contact me when it is ready,” said Al-Tashid. “I will arrange to have it sent to whoever you wish with no risk of tracking.”

  “I thank you for your assistance,” said Mohammad.

  “It is well deserved,” said Al-Tashid. “Today’s success has proven your dedication and shown you will be a valuable ally going forward. By the will of Allah, we shall continue to fight and kill the enemy until it is completely eradicated.”

  Chapter 3 – Monday, June 27, 2016

  Newman Island, Ontario, 11:22 a.m.

  Manitou Islands Provincial Park consists of five islands in Lake Nipissing some ten kilometres or six miles southwest of North Bay, Ontario. Classified as a nature reserve, the park has no facilities or activities though daytime visits are permitted for swimming and nature viewing. Accessible by water only, the park is far from a high traffic area which made Newman Island, the smallest of the five, an ideal location for a private meeting.

  Accompanied by Chris Barry, his top operative, Jonathan Addley, head of the Canadian government’s covert Discreet Activities team, slowly reduced the altitude of his Murphy Moose seaplane as they approached the southern tip of Newman Island from the east.

  “You should see a small beach down on your side,” he said as the southwest coast came into view. “That’s where we’re heading.”

  “They’re already there,” said Chris, noting a fair-sized craft anchored a short distance from shore and an inflatable raft on the beach.

  “I somehow doubted we’d be kept waiting,” said Jonathan before calling in below to announce their imminent arrival.

  They continued their descent as they semi-circled over Lake Nipissing and were soon landing, the plane’s nose pointed directly at the beach. Taking advantage of the onshore wind, Jonathan cut the engine a half dozen yards from the shore and raised the water rudders, allowing the plane to swerve and glide to the edge of the beach stern first. A minute or two later and the plane was secured, its line attached to a rock outcrop.

  “Nice parking job,” said Graham Patterson as he strode toward Jonathan and Chris.

  “I’ve been practicing to impress you,” Jonathan replied with a wink as he extended his hand to the head of security. “Good to see you, Graham.”

  “Always a pleasure, Jon,” said Patterson before turning to Chris. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Barry.”

  “Likewise,” said Chris as they shook hands.

  “So, what’s the proper protocol here?” asked Jonathan, gazing over Patterson’s shoulder at the man seated on the rocky shore at the far end of the beach.

  “He asked me to send you over for a private conversation when you got here,” Patterson replied. “He really is as laid back and down to earth as he comes across on the news so head on over and chat with him.”

  Jonathan nodded, looked at Chris and said, “Let’s go find out what he wants from us.”

  Moving at a brisk pace on the sand and pebble surface, they crossed the small beach in just over a minute. As they approached, the man they were going to meet remained still, sitting cross-legged, his eyes focused on the water in the distance. They were twenty feet from him when he almost floated to a standing position, he was known for his physical dexterity, and turned to greet them. He smiled at them but his gaze reflected concern and sorrow.

  “Gentlemen, I thank you for taking the time and making the effort to come here to meet with me. It’s truly an honour and I apologize for the awkward circumstances and location.”

  Though they had never met, introductions weren’t required. He knew who they were and what they did for the benefit of the country. After all, he had called the meeting based on this knowledge. For their part, they knew who he was – the Prime Minister of Canada.

  “The pleasure is ours, sir,” Jonathan replied. “Never had the opportunity to meet the big man before today, especially not by convocation.”

  The PM smiled and said, “If you insist on calling me ‘sir’, I’ll be forced to address you as Mr. Addley.”

  Chris grinned and chimed in, “There is something to be said about respecting one’s elders.”

  “Do you see what I have to deal with?” Jonathan rebutted as he winked at their country’s younger leader.

  “To be clear,” the PM said to Jonathan, “I fully intend to address your colleague as Mr. Barry.”

  “Meanie,” Chris replied, soliciting a surprised laugh from the PM.

  “Careful, Chris,” Jonathan warned. “The man’s an accomplished boxer.”

  “I rarely use those skills against friends,” the PM assured before turning somber. “However, there are some people out there whom I would happily pummel and that’s putting it lightly. I’m sure you know what I want to discuss with you.”

  “The air show, obviously,” said Jonathan. “A horrible tragedy.”

  The PM nodded as his eyes watered. “Two hundred thirty-seven dead and six hundred fifty-nine injured. It’s despicable and, as the leader of this country, I cannot and will not tolerate such barbaric acts. Those responsible for this senseless atrocity must pay for what they have done. I’m assembling a task force comprised of our top terrorism investigators from the RCMP and the military and their mandate is simple – find the monsters behind this attack.”

  “Of course, you realize that’s easier said than done,” Jonathan cautioned, “Even when some group claims responsibility, which isn’t the case to date.”

  “It is now,” the PM replied. “Just before you got here, I was informed a group called the Army for Islam had issued a statement.”

  “The Army for Islam?” Chris repeated in surprise. “Are you sure?”

  “That’s the name I was given,” the PM confirmed. “Are you familiar with the group? From what I was told, it never was much to begin with and it’s been inactive for several years.”

  “It was a small group,” Jonathan agreed. “As far as we could ever determine, it consisted of its leader and under twenty followers here and in the States though most weren’t serious to the cause. However, they did take the lives of two of my people and an RCMP officer. It could have been much worse as they planned to bomb Igloofest in Montreal but we managed to intervene before they got anywhere.”

  “So you were directly involved,” said the PM. “When was this?”

  “January 2011,” said Jonathan. “My team headed the operation in conjunction with the RCMP.”

  “I see,” said the PM. “Was the group leader ever captured?”

  Jonathan nodded. “Yes. Jawad Qalat, the son of Consul General Jabbar Qalat, was apprehended but his father arranged to have him dealt with back home in Pakistan, as permitted by diplomatic immunity treaties.”

  The PM’s features hardened as he asked, “Do we know what the final outcome was?”

  “He disappeared on his way home,” Jonathan replied with a tight smile. “He left Montreal on a private jet to Paris where he was to be taken into custody by officials from the Pakistan
Embassy. Unfortunately, the private jet never reached its destination.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” the shocked PM exclaimed. “This Jawad Qalat simply vanished and that was the end of it? Nobody questioned anything? That’s ridiculous and now, this Army for Islam is back. He must be the one who revived it.”

  “Impossible,” Jonathan disagreed. “I was the pilot on that private jet and Chris here played the role of my co-pilot. One of our most efficient operatives was also onboard, serving as the flight attendant to tend to Qalat’s needs. Believe me when I tell you he disappeared.”

  Looking dumbfounded, the PM said, “But surely, his disappearance raised questions, at the very least from his father. How did you pull something like that off?”

  “It was rather simple,” Jonathan replied. “We found a reasonable lookalike to fly in Qalat’s place to Paris on the transport his father had chartered and arranged to have him looked after by immigration when he got there. Meanwhile, Qalat went with us, believing we were his ride. After the fact, his chauffeur could confirm having witnessed his boarding and subsequent take-off. The other plane’s crew could confirm they had flown the man to France with all the appropriate records to prove it. What happened to him once he got off the plane was not their problem. In the end, the logical assumption was that Jawad Qalat slipped away upon landing in Paris.”

  The PM nodded and asked, “But what really happened to him?”

  Jonathan shrugged then smiled. “Like I told you, he disappeared and he’s really not someone we have to be concerned with.”

  “Fair enough,” the PM replied. “What about the others? You mentioned he had close to twenty followers.”

  “His two top men died back in 2011,” said Jonathan, his expression grim. “One blew himself up along with two of my people. The other was found dead at home, likely killed by Qalat. Four others whom we dealt with at the time were foreign students from Pakistan attending Carleton University. Three of them were idiot wannabes who backed out before doing anything stupid. After the RCMP put them through the ringer to scare the crap out of them, they were permitted to remain to complete their studies then went back home.”

  “And the fourth?” asked the PM.

  “Arrested on terrorism charges,” Jonathan replied, “Then granted leniency for turning in Qalat and deported back to Pakistan. No indication of any further radical activity with any of the four since.”

  “That’s six accounted for,” said the PM, “So there’s still a dozen or so supporters out there?”

  “Two buddies of Qalat’s in Toronto,” Jonathan went on. “Both running small but relatively successful businesses and regular monitoring has revealed nothing to be concerned about. The others are all in the U.S. in New York, Los Angeles, Boston and Washington and, once again, friends of Qalat’s rather than soldiers. Nothing has indicated any semblance of danger with any of them since Qalat disappeared. They were all talk and no action, possibly to appease him or even to egg him on.”

  “So, you don’t think any of them could be involved in this group’s revival?” the PM questioned.

  “It’s not impossible,” Jonathan replied, “But there hasn’t been the slightest blip to support that with any of them. I agree they warrant being looked into but these guys aren’t terrorists.”

  “If it’s not any of them, we’ll find out who it is,” the PM vowed. “The damned cowards behind this must be found and brought to justice and, gentlemen, that’s why I asked to meet with you here today.”

  “Are you saying you want us on the task force?” asked Jonathan. “With all due respect, I can’t agree to that. We’ll certainly do whatever we can to help but we can’t be working directly with people who don’t know our team exists.”

  The PM gazed at Jonathan then smiled. “You old-timers, always thinking us young’uns are dumb. Seriously, I have no intention of jeopardizing your agency’s existence by making it, or you, public knowledge. You’ll be an unknown extension of the task force, working on whatever leads you see fit. Your team will have access to whatever information comes to light in relation to the investigation.

  “I’ve appointed an old buddy of yours, the RCMP’s Nick Sharp, to head the task force so you can liaise with him as required. Anything you find which can help his team, you can pass along. Anything you feel needs to be done off record, you run with. In the end, we will find those responsible and, when we do, there will be no fanfare, no public announcements, no trials. I want you and your team to make these bastards pay.”

  “I can agree to that,” said Jonathan.

  The PM nodded and replied, “Make it happen.”

  Chapter 4 – Tuesday, June 28, 2016

  Montreal, Quebec, 1:17 p.m.

  “To start, although I’m well aware we’ve just begun this investigation, I’ll tell you I’m annoyed as hell that we have almost nothing to go on to date,” said RCMP Commander Nick Sharp as he began the video conference briefing of the Discreet Activities team. “At least two men were involved in Saturday’s bombings, they’ve been identified and they’re dead. One was Yasir Bhatti, twenty-four, Canadian but originally from Pakistan. Until Saturday, he was a model employee at the Roundel Glen Golf Course right next to the base. That’s from where he took the Globemaster down with a missile launcher.”

  “How did he die?” asked DA operative, Leslie Robb. “Suicide?”

  Sharp shook his head. “His boss shot him. Jerry Sizeman was close by, watching the airshow, when Bhatti fired the missile. He headed over to where the missile seemed to have come from and found Bhatti hiding the launcher. Sizeman happens to carry, albeit illegally, and confronted Bhatti, ordering him to surrender. Bhatti resisted and Sizeman blasted him.”

  “Crap,” Jonathan muttered. “What about the second guy?”

  “We were able to zero in on him from Bhatti’s phone,” Sharp replied. “Twenty-five year old Bilal Jilani, another Pakistani immigrant. A fulltime cook at Bernie’s Burger Barn in Trenton and was working at their concession stand at the airshow. Arrived at the base at seven in the morning to finish setting up and was alone for a couple of hours. In fact, from what we’ve determined, he was the only person in the concession area until almost eight o’clock.

  “Now, the major source of destruction and casualties on Saturday was the simultaneous explosion of twenty large propane tanks in the concession area. A couple of detonation devices were found in a pocket of some cargo shorts in the supply truck Jilani drove in with. Bottom line, everything to date points to him being the one who rigged the propane tanks. He may have been the one who set off the explosions but we think it was actually Bhatti.”

  “Why is that?” asked ex-cop turned DA operative, Dave McCall.

  “A couple of witnesses who knew Jilani saw him leaving the concession area shortly before the blast,” Sharp replied. “On his way, he ran into Denise Bailey, a corporal he was sweet on, and they had a conversation. The witnesses told us he then received a call and seemed agitated. By the way, we know Bhatti called him right around that time. In the meantime, Bailey headed to the burger kiosk and Jilani went after her, looking panicked. The blast came seconds later and an unidentified call was made from Bhatti’s phone at precisely that time. We tested the number and confirmed it sent a signal to the detonation devices we recouped from Jilani’s truck.”

  “Any leads on those devices?” asked Chris.

  “Nada,” said Sharp. “Homemade, though precisely crafted.”

  “What about the missile launcher?” asked Jonathan.

  Sharp shrugged. “One of many FIM-92 Stingers which went unaccounted for after the Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan. I’m not optimistic but we’re working on it.”

  “Any progress with the other numbers on Bhatti’s phone?” asked Chris.

  “Several unidentified numbers,” said Sharp. “All prepaid phones, no contracts. At least, he and Jilani were using their own phones so we’re looking into call and text histories. Anyhow, we’re working on tracking those un
identified numbers and hope to find some other leads.”

  “What about the identified numbers?” asked Chris.

  “He apparently was a pretty social guy,” Sharp replied. “Got along well with people and made a number of friends locally. We’ve located most of these folks and are in the process of interviewing them. There are a couple of names which stand out –”

  “Chandhri and Qureshi?” Chris suggested with a grin.

  Sharp smiled. “You’ve been busy. Am I wasting my time telling you what you already know?”

  “Not at all,” Chris replied. “There’s always a chance I missed something. I take it you’ve located these two gentlemen?”

  Sharp frowned as he nodded. “As I’m sure you know, both live in Montreal. They were also questioned, for what it was worth. Chandhri was described as being polite but curt while Qureshi came off as a smug asshole. Both admitted knowing Jilani and Bhatti from when all four lived in Toronto a few years ago when they came to Canada on student visas. Both denied being aware of anything about the airshow on Saturday even though there are records of recent calls amongst the four of them. In the end, I think they know more than they admitted.”

  “How hard were they leaned on?” Jonathan asked.

  Sharp sighed and replied, “They were questioned and gave us zip. We have nothing linking them to Saturday’s attack so we’re pretty much against a wall for now. We will be keeping tabs on them and have requested authorization to have their phones monitored. That’s the best we can do until we find something more solid. Anyhow, if either is connected to the Army for Islam, it could be a good idea to have them think they’re in the clear in hopes they keep their guard down.” He gazed directly at the camera and added, “Listen, there’s nothing I’d like more than to yank those two little bastards in and find out what they know by any means necessary – ”

  “But you can’t do that,” said Jonathan, completing Sharp’s sentence. “I understand, we all do, but it’s damned annoying.”