Lethal Quota (eBook)

1

Crisis

No one arrested him outside his house or as he drove down the street, so Jake figured maybe it wasn’t the FBI luring him out after all. Maybe Craig really did have a legitimate emergency. It was a balmy August night in a Washington, DC, suburb at nearly 3:30 a.m. The traffic lights were blinking. Only a few other drivers were out. At this hour, the deer were the only likely danger.

Jake took mostly local roads—to detect any tail—and parked three blocks away from the Bethesda gazebo in an adjacent neighborhood. He reached into the glove compartment and put on his wig and fake beard and hat. His heartbeat sped like a rabbit’s. His palms were sweaty.

What could the problem be? Jake wondered. Did Bilal and his crew figure out Craig was a spy? Was his life in danger? Or had they started building the mubtakkar device for real? Or was it something else—something far worse? Had the FBI somehow discovered that Craig (codename CAKEBAKER) was unwittingly working for Jake, and that Jake (disguised as “Alex”) was interfering in their investigation? Were they waiting to arrest him at the gazebo?

Not knowing made Jake more anxious. His lower right eyelid kept twitching, causing his cheek to pull at the adhesive of his fake beard. He walked cautiously along a worn path in a patch of woods that connected the neighborhood to the park, ducking under low-hanging tree branches in the dark.

The gazebo was half visible on a hill overlooking a manmade pond. Blades of grass were slick with dew in the early morning, bright green under artificial light. He looked but saw no signs of a police ambush. The coast seemed clear.

As he approached, he saw Craig in the gazebo wearing a hoodie, wringing his hands and pacing. Craig saw Jake and called out in a loud whisper, “Alex! We have a problem.”

Jake entered the gazebo. “What’s the matter?”

“Well,” said Craig, “I don’t know where to start. Faisal’s dead.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s dead.”

“How?”

“It was an accident.”

“An accident?”

“He fell off the roof.”

“What?”

“The guys helped me out. But I wanted to report it to you to make sure you knew the deal. And there’s something else—Faisal might’ve been working for the FBI.”

Jake’s mind reeled. “Wait a fucking minute,” he said. “Wait, just wait a minute.” He held his hands up like he was trying to stop the madness. His heart thumped. It hurt. He sat down on the wraparound bench and looked up at Craig. “How the—”

“We found a business card in his wallet,” said Craig. “It had the name of an FBI Special Agent—Lou Reynolds. I guess you guys at headquarters can let the FBI know it was a total accident. What are they doing working the same target as us anyway?”

“Holy shit. Time out, Craig. Slow down. What the fuck happened?”

“Okay, okay, so here’s the deal. Faisal came up with this idea that we use ‘small arms’ tactics and shoot up a shopping mall. So, Bilal liked the plan. They thought the mubtakkar thing was too complicated, by the way.”

“Too complicated?” Jake whined.

“Yeah, man. So then Ali said he had these pellet guns and we should go practice close-quarters combat somewhere. That’s when Tony had this great idea to use the rooftop at the apartment building he lives in, near Friendship Heights; there’s a boiler room and tennis courts and two swimming pools and those rooftop ventilation fans and no one’s up there at night. So, long story short, we’re all up there, hunting each other. It’s dark. And at one point I got the drop on Faisal and shot him in the back with a pellet gun. It’s like an MP-five, only it shoots these small pellets pretty hard and stings. We were all wearing eye protection. But Faisal must’ve been startled because he did this little side-hop and fell right off the fucking roof! I couldn’t believe it. He didn’t even say anything. And there wasn’t any sound when he landed. It was seventeen floors up.”

“Holy shit!” Jake gasped. “Holy shit—let me think.” He sat hunched over on the bench, his head in his hands, rocking back and forth.

Oh, God, thought Jake. What have I done?

“You know, there’s a silver lining to this,” Craig said. “Bilal has—”

“Wait. What’d you guys do after Faisal fell?”

“We lost our shit. I mean, I threw up. But then Bilal was like, we gotta get down there and get rid of the body. He said it was for the good of the group. If the cops got involved, we’d have a lot of explaining to do. We didn’t have too much time to think about it, you know? So, we went down there. He landed by a little stream in some woods behind the building. I was sick. We emptied his pockets. That’s when we found the FBI business card in his wallet. We all freaked out again. And Bilal was like, we have to get rid of the body. So, we put him in the trunk of Tony’s car.”

“Were there any video cameras?” Jake said.

“Video cameras?”

“At the apartment building. Outside. Were there any fucking security cameras? Did you notice?”

“Shit. No. I didn’t see any. But—those things hardly work half the time anyway.”

“Where’s the body?”

“Ali and Tony are taking it somewhere. Ali said he knows a good place.”

“What ‘good place’? Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fuck! You don’t know?”

“Shit, Alex. Everything happened so fast. I—”

“Holy shit.” Jake rocked back and forth again. Suddenly it occurred to him the FBI might’ve been surveilling the entire event. “Were you followed?” he asked.

“Followed?”

“Here. Were you followed here?”

Craig looked around. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah—why would anyone—”

“Shit,” said Jake.

“I practiced good OPSEC. I followed procedure. No one followed me here.”

There was a long stretch where neither spoke. Craig stood in the gazebo with hands clasped behind his head, thinking. Jake sat on the bench, rocking back and forth.

I could go to jail, Jake thought. Shit! This is some real shit. Fuck! How the fuck?

He thought about his kids. His wife. What would be the charges against him?

Manslaughter? he speculated. Interfering with an investigation? This is serious jail time for sure.

After a while, Craig said, “Hey, Alex. You’re gonna tell them it was an accident, right? That’s what it was. I can find out where the body is—if they want.”

Jake stopped rocking and looked up. “Craig. I think we gotta shut down the operation and just—I don’t know. This isn’t good. Jesus.” He felt red hot under his disguise.

“Well, wait,” said Craig. “Just so you know—and maybe I’m in shock right now because it seems a little—I mean, it’s terrible what happened, you know? But after we cleaned up—after we got the body away and everything—Bilal was—I don’t know—he seemed—relieved? He was glad I caught Faisal. I caught a spy. He said we should leave the country, though. He said it would be smart because the FBI would come around and question all of us since they probably know who Faisal was hanging out with, you know?”

Jake felt choked. After a moment, he said, “What are you talking about?”

“I know, I know. I guess we could bust them now for Faisal and the shopping mall plan—but, if there is video of me shooting him with the pellet gun—I mean, it would look odd, right? A DHS undercover agent shooting an FBI informant off the roof? It would look like—it would be a mess, right? But, if there’s video, no one’s gonna check it unless there’s some reason to. And right now, it just seems like Faisal disappeared. Do you see what I’m saying? He’s a missing person. There’s no witnesses. There’s no dead body. And he’s an adult—no one looks for adult missing persons, unless foul play is suspected. And there’s no sign of foul play because there’s no scene. And, after a while, whatever video exists would be recorded over, right?”

Jake stared at Craig. The kid’s face was half-lit in the gazebo.

I should come forward, Jake thought. Turn myself in. Surrender. Explain everything. But what’ll they do to me? They’ll hang Faisal’s death on me, too. And if I don’t step up, then what? If this comes back to me later, I’m screwed. Either way, I’m screwed. Jesus. I should come clean now. Sooner’s better than later. They’ll remember that. But they’ll still fuck me. They’ll have to. They’ll need to make an example out of me. Show they’re serious. Holy shit. How’d I get into...