The first big break came the next morning in stopped traffic. Apparently the terrorists were going to try to do a cycle biker bombing every day. Only on this morning, the biker ran into a redneck.
Daryl Ragberry met the classic country definition of a redneck. Big dirty diesel pickup truck that had a frame lift kit installed for big knobby tires that one could hear coming a mile away that stuck out past the pickup body. The exhaust had been modified with two big chrome stacks sticking up behind the cab. There was a gun rack in the back window with NRA and Love it or Leave decals on the window.
He was a big country redneck with an attitude and a patriot who apparently listened to the news as he was passing through. He heard the dirt bike coming and saw it in the mirror. He watched the biker place the package and then race in his direction between the rows of stopped cars to make his escape.
When the biker was just feet away and too close to take evasive action, Daryl opened the driver’s door into his path. The bike stopped four cars past, jammed under a minivan.
The biker was on the blacktop under the opened door trying to get up when Daryl slid off the seat and landed with both feet on him. From there it was downhill for the biker and he was no match for a six foot four 250 pound pissed off redneck who began beating the crap out of him with both big fists.
When the cops finally got there the biker’s hands and feet were restrained with barbed wire.
“That’s all I had and was good enough for him,” Daryl replied when asked why the barbed wire. There were six new rolls – one of them minus several feet – in the back of the truck.
We had a dirt bike but witnesses’ reports indicated it was a different one than either of yesterdays attacks; not good news. That meant there were at least three in the group.
There was a debate while the terrorist was being taken to the hospital to be checked out as to which police department was going to charge him; Metro police, Transportation Authority or Maryland State police.
It was an argument that I ended by sending four DHS and four FBI agents assigned to the Task Force to meet the ambulance at Mercy Hospital with strict orders that no one other than the doctor was to be allowed to talk to or see the terrorist.
To complicate any attempts for anyone trying to see him, I instructed that he be admitted by one of the Gitmo prisoner ID’s I had. I sent the eight agents an order that he was to have NO visitors without my approval and there was an information blackout. Tamim Bashara became prisoner 20172.
I finally had time to look at the breakout of the numbers from the two I-phones that Robert had unlocked last night.
There was a copy of the printouts, the new pass-codes and the phones I handed to the FBI agent across the table to be tagged for evidence.
A quick look and search of the numbers quickly told me how the Iranian and Egyptian embassy knew so quickly. Both their numbers were in the contact list on Balthazar’s phone and the last number called was the Egyptian Embassy. There were several calls to the satellite phones we thought belonged to the Prince.
There were several calls that originated within Iran by the country ID. With the evidence in the call logs, it left no doubt there was collusion between the Iran and the Prince and the continuing terror in the US. The question was, where did Balthazar fit into the plan? A couple more days in an orange jump suit in the tropical sun and a convenient meeting with the doc and I would know.
The agents at the hospital took possession of Tamim’s clothes and another phone; this one was a burn phone with only Balthazar’s number in it. The contents of the pockets was a different story.
Tamim had his mail in his pocket, complete with apartment address. The apartment search proved to be a bonanza.
The agents assigned to the task force finally were getting the idea of the way we wanted things done. Moments after finding the evidence we had cell phone pictures of it to look at and analyze.
There were detailed plans for daily attacks, including boxes of the small explosive devices, enough for five days worth of attacks.
The apartment walls were covered with all kinds of ISIS and Hezbollah posters and other propaganda. There was even a partial box of handout materials and flyers. It would take days for the tech people to make sense out of it.
To me it was simple; all this was a recruiting tool. Everyday there was a successful attack, their status grew and the flyers – I was sure – would end up in the Virginia and DC learning centers. It was one more new tactic for us to stay ahead of.
Tomorrow agents would make the rounds to all the centers and mosques with a sample and to look at all the bulletin boards. There would indeed be questions to their leaders.
After lunch a lawyer showed up at the hospital and demanded to see his client. Special Agent John North called on the task force priority phone just as Troy and the President walked in and just seconds after I had put the call on speaker.
“Who is your client?” I responded.
“The motorcycle driver,” the lawyer responded.
“We have no one in custody or detained by that name. You will have to do better than that,” I replied.
“He is my client and I demand to see him. If you refuse, I will go to court,” he replied.
“Be my guest, as far as I am concerned if you don’t have a name, you don’t have a client,” I replied.
“The lawyer just stormed out,” Agent North said.
“Play hardball with anyone else who shows up and get me his condition, injuries and how soon he can be moved out of there. You do know he is not to be left alone at any time, even during treatment and even if the doctors request it,” I said.
“If anyone shows up with his name, arrest them under suspicion of conspiring with terrorists,” I said.
“Understood completely, Boss,” Agent north replied.
“Well Boss, I see you are back to form and have everything under control; being attacked did not make you any nicer,” Troy replied as he was trying not to smile or laugh.
“You haven’t seen anything yet, just wait a few weeks,” I replied.
More breaks came throughout the day in small doses. A key to a rental unit was found taped under a dresser in Tamim’s apartment. It still had the rental unit’s key tag attached to it.
My prosecutor was sending a continuous stream of search warrants to the judge for his signature. Agents were kicking down doors at multiple locations.
The other two dirt bikes were in the rental unit along with a crate of the small IEDs. Better yet, the crate still had all kinds of shippers’ addresses on it. The bill of lading was on a tool tray. They made no attempt to keep any secret related to the crate.
By peeling off layers of stickers and running what seemed like dozens of bar codes, the crate originated at the Iranian Republican Guard arsenal and then was shipped to Jiwani Pakistan labeled as spare machine parts.
It was shipped from Pakistan to Turkey where the description was changed to Lebond Lathe modernization kit and was given a pre-customs inspection, approved and sent to Jiddah Saudi Arabia to a company that was owned by the Prince. One more turn on the rope around the Prince’s neck. From there it was shipped to HMW Import Export Machine Supply Baltimore.
A check of HMW found an address on the south side of Baltimore that turned out to be an empty warehouse. The warehouse was leased to Ebin Wadi. Ebin Wadi was one of the ones killed in the Baltimore Learning center. He had made the lease three months before his death. The lease was prepaid for 12 months.
The crate had arrived at the Baltimore dock just two weeks ago. That left the question of who picked up the crate and was Balthazar the leader? If he was, the whole terror campaign just went to a new level with bigger players.
Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.