Encountering Evil: Dark Horse Guardians Book Two Page 5

  It was late in the day and the sun cast an ethereal glow on the property as it took on the qualities of an Andrew Wyeth painting. It was a lovely blend of golden sun, green grass, and hazy blue water. Eliot watched Lara as she got out of the car and stood there taking in the amazing beauty of the place. "I'm speechless," she whispered. Then, she turned to Eliot and smiled, "Thank you so much, Eliot." He sucked in a deep breath basking in the appreciation Lara meted out to him. Together they moved toward the back porch door. Eliot was thrilled with the thought of having Lara as his neighbor.

  ~ Ben ~

  The stroll around the mosque the day before the take-down was educational. Ben double checked and triple checked the cameras and discussed with Elvis how to hack them when no one was around. Each of the operatives had specific objectives and took notes and photographs as needed. The mosque was located away from residential housing, remarkably, making the mission a safer bet. They'd have to use electronic devices to disable cell phones and computer systems during the hit. Planning the escape route was crucial. If something went wrong, Ben had a back-up plan and a back-up to that one as well. Ben’s mind was ripe with possibilities. What if someone entered the space at the wrong time? What if people remained inside and they had to kill someone? He had a scheme for his men to get inside the mosque, secure the dirty bomb, and leave with it undetected. The suitcase containing the thermonuclear device had to be taken out of the mosque that evening and whisked away safely. The adrenaline rush for Ben was wild. Not as good as Afghanistan or Iraq, but it would suffice for now. His mind was alert and focused on the task at hand. There could be no mistakes. He made a checklist and thought through every tiny detail.

  Elvis hacked the security system expertly after the evening prayer service. As the mosque emptied, he blended in. He was dressed in robes and wore a turban as he stood outside the mosque entrance fitted with a tiny earpiece and hidden microphone. Elvis gave Tom the green light. Tom, in the garb of a repairman wearing a tiny earpiece, drove up in a van with a fake security logo on the side. Anyone walking by the mosque would not think anything of it. Tom made quick work getting to the basement and picked the lock on the ancient safe as Elvis stood outside. Inside the large safe, Tom recognized the metal suitcase holding the nuclear device. As he nervously held his breath, he brought the dirty bomb up to the van in a cardboard box and loaded it carefully and closed the door. Just as he did, a police car pulled alongside the van. "Can I help you, officer?" Tom appeared as normal and calm as any repairman would. Ben was observing the scene from a distance. The officer glanced at Tom and the van and said, "Just keeping an eye on things.”. Tom nodded and responded, "Just finishing up…had a problem with the wireless not working. I just replaced it with all new. Good to go." It appeared that Tom convinced the policeman and Ben watched the patrol car slowly pulled away.

  Ben breathed an audible sigh of relief on the comm. "Good work." His voice was a whisper. Tom replied with a sense of urgency, "Let's go." Ben made the call to the FBI on a secure satellite phone. "We've got the device secured and we will be at the drop point in thirty minutes." He hung up the phone and took a deep breath. Then, Ben followed Tom as he carefully drove the van to the warehouse that served as the rendezvous point. The device was taken into custody by the FBI. In his usual disguise with a Yankees baseball cap, sunglasses and a fake mustache, Ben hacked the security cameras first. He checked the two men for listening devices. "Sorry guys. This is my protocol." Ben looked at the agents, one a young blonde man with blue eyes. The other guy was just as young with curly brown hair, "You never saw us." Ben said bluntly. The two young men stared at Ben as if he was an apparition, but not a word was spoken. Even though Ben was wearing black leather gloves, he shook their hands and quickly departed. Now, Ben focused on phase two…and that might not go as smoothly as stealing the nuclear device.

  The next morning before the sun was up, Ben, Tom, Nate, Elvis and Gus were once again in disguise as homeless people and hidden in a thick tree line surrounding the parking lot where the seven targets would congregate before going inside for morning prayer. Seven American jihad recruiters and bomb makers would no longer be praying in the mosque with their sick hatred for the country that took them in and fed and clothed them with such generosity. These sick bastards would go to Allah sooner rather than later. They worshipped death, not life. So, death it would be. Ben could never understand the mindset of this twisted theology. If life was not sacred, then what was the point of the jihadi's existence? Ben understood existentialism, but this didn't even fall into that category. This so-called religion made no sense. It was filled with repression, yet these men did not repress their urges. During Ben's investigation he had turned up pornography, alcohol and drugs in the mosque. The repression and subjugation was reserved only for those they dominated: women and children. The men did what they wanted but their indulgences remained in a secret domain.

  Several men parked their cars in the lot and trekked into the mosque groggy with sleep. These were the early birds. The team knew the patterns and habits of their seven targets down to the minute. Six of the targets traveled together frequently and they arrived in a brand new Town and Country Chrysler mini-van. Hidden in the foliage, Ben heard the footsteps and listened as the targets spoke to one another. He silently motioned to the team. Remaining in the thick overgrowth as he listened, Ben waited for the right moment. The targets were paired up in twos walking right by the hidden team. They passed him and he took his shot…four shots to be exact; double taps with a silenced Glock. The suppressed sound was a muffled thud-thud, then thud-thud. Two men immediately fell. Nate, Tom and Gus immediately hit their targets simultaneously dropping them in silence.

  Then the unexpected happened. The seventh man arrived and saw the carnage in the parking lot before the team could drag the bodies into the bushes. The target turned his vehicle around to leave. Elvis, the six-foot six Ninja jumped onto the car. He tried to open the door but it was locked. Ben’s heart sank as he watched the car careen out of control. Through the open passenger side window, Elvis dropped the felon with one bullet, and the jihad bastard slumped over the steering wheel. Elvis fell off the car just as it hit a telephone pole. "Shit!" Ben muttered. He moved quickly to get the Chevy Suburban rolling and scooped Elvis into the backseat. "We've got to get the hell out of here now!" Avoiding contact with law enforcement or running into witnesses was critical. More vehicles were beginning to roll into the parking lot. But for the first minute, no one seemed to notice the car that slammed into the pole. All of the Dark Horse Guardians were in the Surburban. The tinted windows helped cover them and Ben steadied his breathing as he swiftly moved away from the scene and focused on not exceeding the speed limit.

  Eight miles from the mosque the Suburban pulled into a remote wooded side road where the second vehicle was stashed. The others got into it and headed for the motel. Ben and Tom stayed in the Chevy with Elvis, now moaning and injured. Tom took the wheel as Ben got into medic-mode in the backseat with Elvis. "Let me take a look." Elvis was badly bruised and bleeding and making a lot of noise, but there were no broken bones or gunshot wounds that Ben could detect. However, Ben was concerned about a possible internal injury and decided they'd move to a different hide out for the evening hours and watch over him. Ben had Elvis stabilized and took his vitals. Then, they were on their way to a different meeting point, the Shady Brook Motel, to meet the other operatives.

  It was a moment of decision. Ben made the call to a friend of his father’s he kept in touch with just in case something like this happened. While calling the retired doctor, Ben insisted that Tom take his time driving. The last thing he needed was to be stopped by the police. Taking a circuitous route, they arrived at the Shady Brook Hotel. The men piled into the hotel room. Ben stayed in the vehicle with Elvis. The familiar voice answered, “Lewis.” Calmly, Ben explained the situation, “Hey, it’s me, and I need a favor. Can I swing by?” The team was anxious to have Elvis thoroughly examined. Doctor Lewis repli
ed, “Meet me at the Walden Community Imaging Center. Do you know where that is?” Ben obtained the coordinates on his phone and said, “Yes, it’s urgent. My guy needs a CT scan.” Lewis spoke softly as if he didn’t want to involve his wife, “Don’t worry, I know the technician there. We will be ready for you.”

  With Elvis in the passenger seat groaning, Ben felt he wasn't out of the woods just yet. Sweat formed on Ben’s face as his breathing increased. “Hang in there, buddy.” He whispered as his eyes swept over Elvis. He knew his friend was badly bruised from falling off the car as it hit the telephone pole. He hoped and prayed that there were no internal injuries. He was relatively certain there were no broken bones. Beyond that, Ben worried about leaving DNA on the target's vehicle and the ground. There were smears of blood left behind.

  Within ten minutes Ben was loading Elvis into Walden Community Imaging Center’s waiting room. Thank goodness it was a quiet night and only one other person was waiting. Elvis was met by Doctor Lewis and the technician. Her name was Angela and she may as well have been an angel that night. The CT scan was done and read by Doctor Lewis and he gave his prognosis, “His kidneys took a blow. But he’s not urinating blood, not yet anyway. But when he gets back home, I want him to see the urologist and follow up. But from looking at this scan, there’s no noticeable blood pooling, or any abnormalities.” Doctor Lewis scribbled the name of the urologist on a slip of paper and handed it to Elvis. “Take it easy. Rest tonight would be the best thing and keep him hydrated with water, not beer.” Ben smiled and shook his hand, “This never happened.” Doctor Lewis patted Ben’s shoulder, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” Ben slipped a thousand dollars into the doctor’s top pocket to cover the imaging.

  Helping Elvis back into the Surburban, they headed back to the hotel. The men were exhausted and hungry, coming down from the adrenaline rush of the past forty-eight hours. Nate made the run for food. The team hunkered down in the cheap off-the-beaten-path motel room. They had posed as tourists on a fishing trip and booked the suite for the night. The cluster of rooms was at the far end of the building surrounded by a wooded area where the getaway vehicles were stashed. Once in the suite, the men ate and slept and Ben kept an eye on Elvis. They watched the local news and, as expected, there was a report about seven Islamic men executed near the mosque. The pornography, alcohol and drugs Ben found in the mosque basement and conveniently left at the crime scene were not mentioned in the news report. Heaven forbid; the media didn't want to be politically incorrect and insult radical Islamists in any way. But, Ben knew the local police would factor that evidence into the case and would most likely conclude that fellow Islamic cohorts murdered the men for their unchaste ways…hopefully.

  At the break of dawn the team would slip on new disguises and use two different vehicles with changed license plates to head home. Meanwhile, they ate cheese-steak subs and piles of onion rings. They slept with their clothes on in case they had to suddenly exit the building. No alcohol was consumed, but a lot of bad jokes were made to the dismay of Elvis. With a big bruise on his hip and a really sore rib cage, he could no longer swivel and drive the women wild. Their stomachs all hurt from restraining their laughter. The team didn't want to draw attention to their room. They had to be quiet, but it was like sitting on a pew at church knowing you could not laugh. It made it all the harder to remain silent. Even worse, the onion rings gave the men a gastrointestinal disturbance that could not be contained. For a moment, Ben felt like he was back in Afghanistan laying low in a forward operating base with his SEAL brothers. He took turns with Tom guarding near the front window and listening while the others snored and passed gas loudly. In a few hours dawn would break and they'd split up and take separate routes home.

  ~ Lara ~

  Sterling Brown, the owner of Clearwater Farm, opened the back porch door and welcomed Lara and Eliot with a warm smile, “Come in, please.” A small older white-haired man with a weathered face and dark eyes, Sterling was a polite and charming gentleman. Lara barely looked at him as her eyes were immediately drawn to the sweeping views of Casco Bay behind him. She immediately realized the 1932 John Calvin Stevens home had been tastefully updated. She couldn't help herself as she closely examined the exceptional details and fine craftsmanship throughout the five bed, six bath oceanfront home. The property even included a private sandy beach and rights to a deep water dock.

  Sterling was a gracious tour guide. The center of the home featured a modern kitchen with custom cabinetry, high end stainless steel appliances and beautiful marble countertops. The kitchen opened to the family room with an original fireplace and stunning moldings. The layout graciously flowed from the family room and kitchen to the dining room with another fireplace and on to a spacious living room with built-ins and yet another fireplace. There was even a large screened porch off the living room complete with a porch glider. Every wonderful space offered expansive views of the bay and the islands beyond. The home featured a first floor master suite with an amazing view of the water, along with a private office. There were three additional bedrooms on the second floor with two having en-suite baths. A hall bath serviced the third bedroom. Lara noted the home was full of comfort with a nice design and layout. Nothing had been overlooked. No renovation was needed.

  To top it off, Lara was particularly starry eyed when she discovered the unique home was built by her favorite New England architect, John Calvin Stevens. To own a home designed by him would be her dream come true. Stevens made a name for himself by mastering the shingle-style cottage that had come to symbolize coastal life in New England. He was known for exceptional quality and worked primarily for the wealthy, and occasionally for the famous. Lara was simply awestruck with the extraordinary quality and fine details. And, the good news was: Portland was only ten minutes away.

  The sun was almost touching the horizon and a golden light bathed the property. Lara stared at the hazy blue water of the bay. "May I ask the price?" she swallowed hard suddenly feeling parched. Sterling Brown eyed her knowing she was smitten with the property. "Well, I haven't put it into the hands of a broker yet…maybe we can strike a deal. I’m asking two million." Lara's eyes met Eliot's briefly, "I'll need to speak with my husband about it, but I love the place. My husband is out of town right now." Sterling walked Lara and Eliot to the door, "Don't feel you have to make a decision right away, my dear. Think it over and get back to me. I would prefer to sell it without a broker, if possible." Lara thanked him for his hospitality and got into the Fiat with Eliot. After a few minutes of complete silence, Eliot spoke softly, "Tell me, Lara. You're in love with the place, aren't you?" She felt her face flush pink as she whispered, "Yes." Eliot smiled, "Let's talk about it over dinner at the club." Lara wondered what he had up his sleeve.

  ~ Eliot Stone ~

  Eliot Stone knew she was captivated with Clearwater Farm and he wanted Lara to be his neighbor more than anything. They made their way back to the yacht club in silence and Lara rummaged in the backseat of the Fiat for clothing. She pulled out a white cotton summer dress, a soft floral cardigan and a pair of sandals. Eliot grabbed a sport coat out of his locker and waited for her at the club's bar as she changed in the ladies room. It felt like old times having dinner with Lara like this. He so enjoyed the two-year internship she served at his firm. He would wait at his office window every afternoon at 1:00 to watch her drive into the parking lot. She always had a cheery demeanor and made him laugh despite whatever problems he had tackled earlier in the day. Like a love-struck teenager, he'd wait to see what she was wearing, how she wore her hair, what color lipstick she chose, and he would make every effort to be near enough to smell the lovely feminine scent she wore. He made excuses to have meetings with her and devised opportunities to travel with her to architectural salvage yards and renovation projects. His life and his work revolved around chances to be with Lara.

  As Lara stepped out of the ladies room into the entryway of the yacht club, Eliot observed her from the bar. He noticed
every man's head pivot as they watched her walk from the entryway toward him at the bar. Her long dark hair was pulled into a loose chignon and she had the slightest hint of color on her face from the sailing trip. Her emerald eyes sparkled beneath dark eyelashes as she self-consciously wrapped her cardigan around her shoulders. The white sundress accentuated her long lean figure and the sandals looked incredibly feminine on her. As she sashayed toward him with the grace of a runway model he noticed her genuine smile and the shimmery pink lipstick. He wanted nothing more than to embrace her and place his mouth upon hers, but he only imagined the pleasure. Ever the gentleman, Eliot put his arm around her as if claiming a prize and walked into the dining area with Lara ignoring the following eyes. They were seated in their usual corner booth overlooking the water.

  "You look like a fashion model tonight." Eliot's brown eyes met hers for an instant. "Oh, goodness, I don't think so." Lara fumbled with her leather sack and put it under the table. Eliot tempted her, "Would you share champagne with me tonight?" He so wanted her to linger after dinner and hoped this would work. "I'm very thirsty, but I'd prefer water if you don't mind." she glanced at the menu for the evening. "What's the special?" Eliot touched her hand lightly, "You get whatever you want. You know that Chef L'Abbe makes us whatever we want. Has it been that long since we've dined together here?" Lara looked up. Her beautiful green eyes locked with his. "Yes, it has been a while…that Chicken Scaloppini was so delicious!" Eliot smiled and held her eyes with his, "Then that's what we'll have…and that special salad you love…you know, the one with arugula and feta cheese." He never looked at the menu because he didn't want to take his eyes off hers.