This work is copyrighted by me and is posted here for your personal use in reading. I retain all rights of publish.
also please forgive me I am still in the process of editing.
The Great Satan Falls:
The Collapse of America
The Constitution shall never be construed... to prevent the people of the United States who are peaceable citizens from keeping their own arms.
The security six cradled in the leather inside the waistband holster bumped into his slightly middle-aged love handles and he would swear once again the need to lose some weight. He had wanted to stop at home before going to the mall because he knew he was not supposed to carry in the mall. If they saw and made a fuss, he would leave. Besides the windbreaker covered the gun almost completely and only someone very observant would take notice.
Even though Kentucky is a very gun friendly state, some parts were still less than friendly. It was only a trespassing violation if he did not leave, but he wanted to get in and out so he could get home to his wife. Of course, he had forgot to get her the godiva and teddy bear a day earlier, so had to get it today before he went back home. He was walking into the mall and watched as a van parked. Four men exited the van, three from the side and one who was riding shotgun. The van pulled quickly away and towards the back of the mall.
Seemed a little odd, but he was just being paranoid as usual. His wife would just harrumph and say "not everyone is a bad guy". He laughed to himself.
As he was moving toward the same entrance, he saw a reflection in the window that turned his blood to ice. He could have sworn that one man had an AK under his coat. He was caught in between steps and he continued, so as not to draw attention, and hoped he did not gasp out loud. He looked closer and just maybe he could make out the butt of a gun sticking out the bottom of another coat.
His mind whirled. What should he do? What could he do? He had six rounds against who knows how many and what if he was wrong? He could try and call 911, but they would not get there in time. This could not be allowed to happen; how many times had he harped that if only an honest gun owner was someplace at the right time.
They were closer to the doors now and he had to make a choice, follow them in or peel off and call the authorities. He reached back for the feel of the target grip and felt the firm wood and the familiar steel. IDPA and target shooting with his son was nothing like how he was feeling now. Could he shoot someone, would he hit if he shot?
If he drew down on these guys and they had AK, he would be at a serious disadvantage and had to make the shots count. He had a good size knife and six rounds of 357 golden saber. They would take them down, but he had to hit center mass. Or should he try a head shot? He shook his head; no, same as always, center mass and one for each left to right. Then see where we are. He was starting to understand how Schwarzenegger felt when he played Conan going against that army. He knew that 30 rounds of x39 were far deadlier.
They had entered the outer doors and then the inner doors. He had moved to one side so he would come in two doors down from them, so as to slip in unannounced, if possible. He had stayed back and could see them standing just inside the doors. His hand tried not to squeeze the grip too tight. If this happens, these shots need to count or this will be for nothing. He will be shot and they will go on a killing spree, the likes not seen in America. He saw they were speaking to each other and then it seems time was slowed. The first man closest to him allowed his coat to open; there was no denying they were armed. The men all seemed to produce guns at once and leveled them at the crowds in front of them going about their daily lives. The next sounds rang in his ears as he pushed through the inner door.
His hand pulled from his right side and leveled at the closest terrorist. The loud shot rang out and one of the men dropped. The 357 traversed the distance between him and the man and tore from side to side, in the process hitting the aorta. He was dead before he hit the ground. The other men were astounded by the shot from behind and all looked at him.
The loud commotion in the mall of people running and screaming almost covered the second shot from the revolver. It hit the second man and he fell backwards. As the men began to fire back, he got one more shot off and another hit, but this man remained standing. He ducked behind one of the pillars as rounds began to shred the fake stone and shatter the glass storefront behind. He could see their reflection in what remained of the glass as one man turned to fire on the mobs of people. The other dropped his magazine and fished for another one. He stood up and took aim and pulled the trigger. It broke as it always did with two lbs of pressure and the bullet was away. The tall dark man with an unkempt beard was beginning to pull the trigger on the AK. His finger never received the rest of the command; the bullet struck just below the hairline above the ear and left a neat clean hole and tore most of the left side of his head off.
What was one of the most important rules of a gun fight?
Never stand still!
As he felt the pain he looked down. The second man he had shot had produced a small revolver and was firing at him. The bullet must have hit the AK and torn through his shoulder, but he seemed pretty good with his left hand.
He cursed as he slid back to the limited security of the pillar. Great job there; stand like a deer caught in the headlights and get shot in the side for it. Fortunately, it looked like a clean through and through. It was somewhat a mute point. Two bad guys and three bullets and now he was bleeding.
He could see the man on the floor was unable to get up and the other terrorist was still fiddling with the AK magazine. Something was said between them in quick Arabic and the last standing terrorist moved to grab one of his downed comrades' guns. A quick glace and more bullets ripped the pillar to smaller rubble. Then his attention turned.
There were crowds behind benches and trash cans. They were there and he was going towards them. It was now a matter of how many they were going to kill. The blood drooled out of the wound in his side as he stood up. He saw the last walking terrorist moving further into the mall to complete his mission.
With three bullets left, he made a decision and accepted this was more than likely going to be his last act. He came from behind the pillar and fired at the terrorist on the ground and hit him again in the chest, but as a second round was fired he was spun around and missed. His left shoulder hurt and he was feeling new pain as he squeezed his last shot. It caught the man about the collar and tore through his neck. He was no longer a concern, but now no more bullets. He walked over to the headshot man, searching for a handgun and was awarded with nothing. He walked over to the man who had just shot him for the second time and pried the small 38 from his tight grip. He turned and fired, hitting the walking terrorist in the middle of the back, causing him to collapse. As more and more blood flowed from his shoulder and side, he made his way toward the last terrorist who was trying desperately to get the AK just out of reach.
With his remaining strength he pushed the man over onto his back with his boot. The pain from the back wound made him wince. "We are but the first. The great satan will fall," he gasped out.
He remembered a line from some movie he could not place now; his mind growing fuzzy with the loss of blood.
Not in your lifetime.
The gun bucked as he fired the last shot into the middle of the man's forehead and then collapsed.
How strangely will the Tools of a Tyrant pervert the plain Meaning of Words!
The scene was one of chaos. After securing the area, the police and paramedics attended to the fallen. There was little to do for the four men in long coats with beards and a Koran in each jacket pocket. Jerome Tanner had done the job well and all of them were dead.
JT, as his friends knew him, was not quite ready to pass over that threshold. He was stat-flighted to the regional medical center, University of Louisville hospital. Room 7 was always ready for a trauma victim and with the blood losses and the two bullet wounds, he classified. He was going in and out of consciousness as the doctors started to work on him, a guard standing nearby in scrubs since no one still knew exactly what happened at the mall and whom the bad guys were.
"A little stick," the pretty blond nurse said through her mask. The pain of the IV being inserted seemed very far away as he was lapsing back to unconsciousness. He wondered if his family would make it before he went to surgery or if he would come back from the darkness this time. A crackle from the radio in the office brought him back up from the depths.
The doctor, none to pleased with the noise….. “turn that off! We are trying to save a man's life,” he growled.
The officer was just reaching up for the mic when……..
"Be advised... this is not a drill... We are on high alert...Terrorist’s attacks have been reported across the United State. The Mall of America was attacked, as well as several others. All personnel are to report to shift commanders immediately."
The darkness came and washed over him like a warm flood. The nurse had gotten the IV started. The anesthesiologist began a push of the milky drug and he was out.
The surgery went on for several hours. The hole in his side was easy enough, but the one in the shoulder had nicked a small artery that proved to be tricky to find and sew up. After that and four pints of blood, he was in recovery and the doctors informed his wife and kids that the next few hours would tell. They said he might lose the use of the left arm or it might just show some stiffness. It was hard to tell at this time.
Anne and his two children waited as the time passed. At some point the police and FBI arrived. Since this looked like a part of a grand attack ,the feds... well, they were concerned. Most of the questions she had no answer to. She was unsure why he was there. Yes, he had a CCW, but he rarely carried, except on their ten acres outside of the city. Only half way through the conversation did she suddenly think that tomorrow was her birthday and he would have been getting Godiva and maybe a bear. She sobbed as she told the officer that was more than likely the reason for the trip. He was not one to head to a mall without good reason. He did not like the crowds and frankly... well, he was not a people person. The two kids smiled. Dan, 18, and Nora, 20, thought "yeah, not really a people person". Anne felt she should explain that although he was not violent or mean he just preferred his time with family and a few close friends.
"Ma'am, I have to ask, was he involved in some religious … well you know"
She smiled. “Yes he was. He was born and raised a Southern Baptist, but did not attend church for some petty disagreement. He had talked about getting back into it. We had gone to Catholic Masses over the last years….” She trailed off.
The officer was taking notes and asked slowly could he have been involved with these… terrorists.
Dan took exception and stood up, his 6'2" wiry frame standing next to his mother.
“my father just did your ******* job and you have the ***** to ask if he was involved?!”
Nora grabbed her brother and pulled him away before more than harsh words were exchanged. Her brother was not on the road to ingratiating himself to the local cops.
His mother took over …” no, he would not have been. He was not a fan of Islam or the PC crap that allowed it to flourish unchecked in the US,” she said with more than a touch of condescension.
The officer said he was sorry if he offended and had to pursue all lines of questions. He walked away.
Anne called her mother and told her of the prognosis; she also told of the questions and asked if they could come out there to rotate from the hospital instead of home.
Her mom told her…”do not say another word to those jack offs, call a lawyer and tell them to talk to him. “
Anne did not feel the need for counsel but knew her mom was taking the same tact her husband would. What was it he always chided “can be used against you, not for you, not to clear you, not to show you did nothing wrong, but can be used against you” she smirked as he said, his voice always raising a bit when he would get on a role with talking about the government. He was not really against the government, but then he was not really a fan of it either. The scariest phrase known to man, "we are from the government and we are here to help". A soft giggle escaped her lips as she sobbed and waited.
The phone rang in the home of Louisville ADA, Arthur Kurns. He was an up-and-comer in the district attorney's office. He bent down and picked up the phone.
“Brother” …a hushed voice whispered.
Kurns looked around to make sure his wife was not close by. “I told you not to call this number”
"It has started, brother, but a dog of a man stopped our brothers in your city. Only the driver escaped after he heard the commotion. The man must be punished. There can be no one that stands in the way of the Jihad."
“It will not be easy,” Kurns said. "There is nothing I can do that will not raise more suspicion then I am already under. Since the case where we won the right for sharia in the divorce courts, I have been under scrutiny. My boss did not approve that and he let me know it was not a case he supported. But with the help of our people at city hall, they kept me here. If I step that far out again, my cover here may be up."
"Allah will protect us. We have begun the downfall of this decadent country and Allah willing, we shall see it fall and a new caliphate will arise with sharia governing this land."
"He must be charged, brother, and convicted. We must use their own laws against them."
The wheels had already started to turn in his head. He could charge the trespass and then charge with murder. The men had shot no one, and by everything that was seen on the tapes, he had heard through the grapevine that one of the men was shot in the back. Yes. He opened his home office door and stepped in, slowly closing and locking the door. He unrolled the rug handed down from his mother's grandfather and placed the prayer cap on his head. Facing Mecca, he prayed for strength and for the day when he would let these swine know his true self.
“Mohammed Salem” he whispered, Allah protect your humble servant.
We cannot make events. Our business is wisely to improve them
As he woke in recovery, JT was greeted with a pretty nurse asking him to wake up. With green eyes like that, he would do his best. He tried to focus and come from the depths of the drug-induced fog. His left arm ached and he could not move it, later to find out mostly because of the neural block they did, but also it was sore. He spent minutes, maybe more, coming out of the fog. At some point the nurse asked of he wanted some ice chips, and he gladly accepted, enjoying the cool feeling on his parched throat. As he slipped into consciousness, he noticed no other patients in the recovery room. What time of day was it, he wondered? The shooting had happened around 1, but he had no idea now.
The nurse asked if he wanted his glasses and he slowly nodded. His eyes adjusted. H e looked around and asked if his family was nearby. His nurse motioned to one of the other nurses sitting at their station and they went out the door. He caught a glimpse of a clock above the door; it was now 2300 he mused, 11 pm. What else had happened? His mind was clearing and he remembered the radio message before he went out.
The nurse gathered the Tanner family and took them back to see Jerome. He was more awake as his wife and kids came through the door. They hugged and wept. He held back tears, knowing what could have been lost today. He asked his wife what had happened today and told her of the message he had overheard as he was going out. She looked over her shoulder, as if expecting an officer to have followed her into the recovery room. His eyes met hers as she came back to his face and touched his check with her finger. "They do not want us to go into detail, but the same attack was carried out in 20 malls across the country at almost the same time. The death toll was upwards of 1000 and untold injured."
Dan spoke up and said, "it is a bunch of PC crap. They are not calling it a terrorist action and some, like the MSNBC stooges, are saying it could have been a domestic attack from rightwing militia. They even suggested you killed innocent Arabs going shopping."
His mother touched his hand and Dan calmed some, but the anger simmered below the surface.
He had wondered how it would play out, but now it was too late to worry.
The nurse informed him they were going to move him now. Everyone left with kisses to his cheek and a squeeze of the hand from his wife as they unhooked the bags of fluids and began to move the bed out of recovery. He was wheeled into room 3-5. It was at the end of a hallway. He noticed a chair already in place and a security guard outside the door. He wondered if that was to protect him or to make sure he did not go anywhere. He thought back to his son sying that they were already claiming that he overreacted.
As soon as he was settled he reached for the phone and began to dial… the phone was dead. He pushed the button for the nurse and and when the bubbly young aide walked in, she said they had asked that the phone be turned off.
“Who had asked?” he said as calmly as possible.
“Oh, it was the men from the FBI,” she said.
She went on to explain they had said they were sure he would want some peace and quiet and confided in her that all sorts of people might try and call to get a story.
It made him feel so warm and fuzzy; them looking out for his best interests and peace and quiet. More likely, they did not want me to call anyone before they got to ask me questions. Maybe they thought he was Ron White, “I had the right to remain silent but not the ability”.
Ok, no more redneck humor, he thought. He was in no mood to be bullied by the Feds, but then again, he thought it might be advantageous for them to come and interrogate a man a couple of hours out of surgery. If this went down badly, he would need all the sympathy he could get. He dismissed the aide with a polite and smiling "thank you" and laid back into the bed feeling the need to rest. The meds and trauma were overtaking his body and he drifted to sleep.
Among the natural rights of the colonists are these: First a right to life
FBI agent Harold Dawes was just arriving at the Mall of America at 4:30. Approximately three hours earlier it was hit with a barrage of gunfire from four men dressed in long coats who carried a Koran in the front jacket pocket. They had been found dead near a back entrance, each with a bullet wound to the back of the head. If witness statements were to be believed, after killing as many people as they had ammo for, they walked outside, knelt down in prayer and were shot in the back of the head by an accomplice in a van that then sped away.
Dawes had been with the agency for 12 years and this idea of covering their tracks worried him. These were likely all zealots and Islamic fanatics. They would not break, but information could be elicited even in small parts could lead to more information. What did they not want to be known? This question terrified him. Twenty malls were hit today, with scores killed. Was this the beginning of the wave of jihad attacked that many had feared? It had happened in Israel until they made it too costly. American arrogance had assumed no one would come to our soil and attack, but 9/11 changed that. Then we fell back into the old idea we were untouchable.
The new FBI had that feeling; the new Director Sieve was too fond to point out of the working relationship with IDG. The Islamic Development Group was supposed to be a moderate group searching for understanding and peace, but many in the agency feared it had more to do with infiltrating and controlling government agencies and policies, trying to thwart any questions or investigations into its finance and membership. It had used a war of lawsuits to stop criticism of the new mosques that were built on 100 acre plots and had dorms. Some said they were used as training bases.
Many in the local communities had complained, but when you have billions in petrodollars it is easy to buy compliance from local zoning boards. Frankly, many welcomed the compounds to show their acceptance. The Mayors and Administrators mockingly treated the citizens like children almost as if to say, "no, go on, pay your taxes and let the grownups take care of the important things."
Dawes was surrounded by reporters as he stepped from the black suburban. Reporters screaming questions and lights flashing… "People," he yelled “I have nothing to say. I have just arrived and am just about to get a briefing from the technicians.”
He walked to the front entrance and slowly opened the door. The scene inside was gruesome was all he could think. Bodies were cut down in mid stride. Women, children and men lay all over the floor, blood pooling around the bodies. Tessa Mills walked up and identified herself.
“I am with the field office here in Minnesota,” she said.
“Just got here from DC. What is the situation?” Dawes asked.
"It looks like four terrorists came in the door there, yelled something no one quite heard and began firing. They walked down that corridor and out the back door where we found them. The whole shooting took exactly ten minutes."
“Automatic weapons?” he asked.
"Nope, standard semi-auto AK, these men were aiming and shooting people, no spray and pray.
This was a deliberate aim and shoot. The cameras caught the whole mess. They walked slowly and methodically down this way, never moving down other hallways. This was planned and carried out and they wanted to kill as many as they could, but they had a plan and they stuck to it. They had four mags …30 rounders apiece and they used them all. One man had a small six shot revolver. They hit 300 hundred people, 120 are dead. The rest are in various stages of hurt; twenty of them are critical." She paused for just a second and then spoke softly, "twenty of the dead are children, there was some school trip today."
He looked down and sighed. How this could be condoned by any religion or people was beyond him. He was an FBI agent and knew that he could be a target at anytime, but people shopping and taking in a day at the mall was different.
"We are kind of guessing, but we figure the odd man with the revolver was there just in case the buddy in the van got clipped. The locals have the idea he was to stop any police from his vantage and take them out, as well perform the coup de gras on the four other terrorists."
After four more hours of data and video and information, some good and some just plain BS; He was ready to greet the adoring reporters.
“Please,” he yelled as he was mobbed.
Dawes stood in front of what looked like 100 microphones and mini recorders, agent Mills at his side. "I will let you know the facts that we have and nothing more at this time." He recited the details that were known about the number of shooters and the number hit and killed. He told of the weapons and how many rounds they had.
A reporter shouted from the back…”some outlets are saying this is the work of a right-wing American militia group. Do you have any comment?”
"Nothing that we have found at this time points to that conclusion. That is wild speculation at this time."
“Then who did this?”… a shout came.
Just at that moment Dawes' blackberry vibrated. He backed away and let the local sheriff continue the numbers game of how many transported and to where. He also said that no names would be released until possibly 6 a.m. Agent Dawes looked down at the tiny screen. A message had come in from the Director's office. "Do not mention the Korans. We will not jeopardize our relationship with the Muslim community on an unsubstantiated piece of evidence. At this time we are open to all possibilities, even that this was local militias and they are trying to throw blame onto honest Muslims."
Dawes turned …”that is it for now. I am sorry, but I have a conference call.,”
Dawes pulled Mills with him and caught the ear of the Sheriff before he was gone. A folder held in front between them and the cameras just in case there were any lip readers in the group.
“No mention of the Korans; it came from the director,” he whispered.
The sheriff stared into his eyes, his face turning red and fumed, “I do not work for the damned FBI director. That cannot be kept secret long!” The anger was palpable and Agent Dawes felt as if he might be in physical danger. Dawes stood 6 foot tall and carried 200 lbs on a wiry athletic frame. The sheriff had a good four inches and carried some extra weight, but Dawes had a feeling this was not a man to be messed with. Sheriff Watts knew this agent was not to blame. This came directly from the PC crowd back in DC. Watts was a grizzled veteran who carried 250 lbs on his 6’ 4” frame and could be imposing. He had been on the department for 15 years as the Sheriff and five as an MP with the army before that. He had fought many wars against gangs, druggies and meth heads and knew when to turn it down and turn on the politician.
“I understand agent, but with so many people traipsing through the scene, it is bound to get out. I would not want the FBI to look foolish," said the sheriff in a subdued and even tone.
The change was immediate and caught Dawes off guard. “Of course,” was all he could get out.
Agent Dawes pulled down the folder and was off to the Suburban. He opened the door for Agent Mills, then climbed in beside her. The driver got in and Dawes asked him to head to the hotel where he was staying. All was quiet for a time, then Dawes turned to Mills…”what do we know about the sheriff back there?”
"He has been in the job for some time, always get reelected with like 80 percent of the vote. Family was from around here. I went to school with his daughter at the local college, then moved to the FBI after graduation. He is well respected and politically savy, as you can tell, but it is whispered that his bad side is a dangerous place to be. Nothing dirty, mind you, but it is said he can transform into a grizzly when the need arises." She cocked a quirky smile at her last statement.
“Anything else?” he prodded.
"Well, the story goes that he and two deputies were moving on some drug dealers out in the boonies. It was supposed to be two guys in a shack bagging marijuana. It turned out to be five guys in a shack with guns, ammo and all sorts of drugs. Both deputies were shot almost immediately. At the end of the fight there were five dead bad guys. Sheriff Watts was shot three times and the shack destroyed. I have seen pictures; it looks like he threw one of the guys through the wall."
Well, now he knew who he was dealing with.
‘"Thanks,” he said quietly and laid his head back on the headrest, watching the lights go by as he made his way to the Hilton. After checking in and setting up the laptop, he began a preliminary report to the director’s office and assistant Malcolm Walls. He informed them of the data collected and of the sheriff's warning that this little secret they were keeping was not going to kept long.
A conference call had been scheduled for midnight for all special agents in the field. He looked down at the time and it was just clicking 11:30. He grabbed the remote and clicked on one of the news channels. Wall to wall coverage of the events of the day; twenty malls hit, hundreds dead and one man stopped them in Louisville. He had bits and pieces of the story from the Louisville mall, but he wondered if they would try to spin this as local militia and where would that leave this guy.
Dawes was no fool. The agency had changed the last several years, to the point that he was sometimes not sure whose side he was supposed to be on. He sat quietly, listening and flipping the channels. MSNBC was proposing that the man was not a hero, but a killer of innocent Muslim men out shopping. Cursing under his breath, Dawes turned back to CNN where they were speculating how a man with a revolver and six shots got the better of four men with semi-automatic assault weapons.
Dawes smiled and said, “maybe he was just a better shot.” He laughed and raised his glass to the screen, “here is to you, shootist” and drank the glass of bourbon down.
The conference call was short and sweet. The only new thing was Dawes knew one of the agents from down in Louisville. Agent Tim Smith was a long-time friend and a pretty good guy. They had done some work on smugglers and mobs and had grown to be friends. Tim was also one of those that had noticed the change in the agency and was not all that happy with it. He had recently went back to school for a MS in Computer Science.
Dawes punched a speed dial and called Tim. “What is going on down in the bluegrass state?”
Tim smiled at the familiar voice...” not too much... I am playing back bench to Agent Eliz, pet of the director,” before he could catch himself.
Dawes asked, "can we speak?”
Tim responded, "nope, hun. Can't now, drop me a line and I will get back with ya. Love you too.”
Obviously Tim could not talk openly, so Dawes hung up and walked out of the room, going down to the first floor.
“Do you have a computer? I need to look up some information I would rather the agency not see.” said the agent, giving the young man behind the counter a knowing smile.
"Yep, right back over there and none of those pesky filters," he smiled.
Dawes sat down and began typing, first looking up the local nightlife in town and then pulling up his old gmail account. He typed a quick note and inserted a usb stick in the slot on the monitor. He encrypted the note with the PGP he had downloaded onto the stick and then erased everything he had done with a free shredder program. They had used this before when they were concerned about prying eyes.
“Our contest is not only whether we ourselves shall be free, but whether there shall be left to mankind an asylum on earth for civil and religious liberty”
Attorney General Holder sat behind the huge desk and talked with the three men seated in front of him and, by phone, Assistant to the director of the FBI, agent Silas.
“Gentlemen; I will not let our warm relations with the Muslim American community be harmed by the possible lies and treachery of the anti-Muslim bigots.” Holder warned.
He continued, “ this is a terrible day for this country and I will not see it be used by the short-sighted talking heads who are pushing as a terrorist plot brewed up overseas. We have seen how that can be used, and it came close to destroying this great nation before. “
The conversation continued with everyone throwing out ideas and scenarios that could come about if information about the attacks were not tightly controlled.
If this were the work of fundamental Islamists, then the President would come out and make a statement to calm the fears of the people, but nothing at this time shows that is the case.
Daniel Grimes sat in the chair to the far left of the AG desk and kept fairly quiet. He worked in the DHS and was a political animal. He knew when to talk and usually it was to only one other individual. He was a watcher, kedping his opinions to himself. If questions ever arose, it was he said, she said, and he was better at spin than anyone. He saw the writing on the wall. They were going to try and spin this in such a way that it looked like Americans posing as Muslims, out of convenience or desire for something to use as a wedge for gun legislation. But this administration had shown no stomach for looking into anything that had to do with Muslim groups in America and certainly Muslim groups planning attacks. Grimes was a political atheist. He was not a liberal or conservative. He accumulated power and knowledge that could lead to more power. He saw a mine field in this tactic they were putting out. The American people were mostly sleep walking through life and would believe just about anything you fed them, but you must never make it too obvious or give them a leader. The recent tea parties showed when they were given a forum and a cause, they could become a force and nothing can withstand that force for long. Against his better judgment Grimes spoke up.
“Mister Attorney General,” Grimes said. The others stopped mid sentence.
“Sir,” he continued, “ I understand that we do not want to inflame any bad feelings with the Islamic community, but we also do not want this to look too much like we want this to be anyone but them. I have heard that we are going to use this incident to push for some new gun control legislation and place blame for the AK at the foot of the pro-gun groups. But if the people find out that we have this in mind, well, I am sure you can see how it might play against the President. “
The AG was caught off guard. Yes there had been talk about trying to make sure this was seen in the best light possible to the Muslim community, but they also wanted to be able to crack down on the gun sales that had sky rocketed since President Obama had been elected. They had hoped to turn public opinion against gun ownership. Holder had even hoped that maybe they would try and do something about getting some of the guns that were already out in the hands of the people. Yes, confiscation and registration were nowhere on the plate a day ago; maybe now the people would demand that something be done. They would have to tiptoe around this and call it something like a quarantine and visual inspection, but this was an opportunity that the President and the AG did not want to go to waste. Gun ownership was a scourge on society and should have been banned by an enlightened populace decades ago.
“Yes, Mister Grimes ,we must make sure this is done with the proper amount of openness and not have the people believe that we are using this awful tragedy to push legislation,” the Attorney General said softly.
“Thank you all for coming. Please let me know if there are any new updates at the FBI, Agent Silas.”
The men filed out of the room and headed towards the entrance of the Justice Department.
No people will tamely surrender their liberties..
Roger Ales was working the late shift at Con Edison and was watching the boards for failures, wondering when the next brownout would be. He had read up on the inter-network, and frankly it was all terribly overburdened. The last big one that took out most of the north east and Canada started in Ohio and the cascade went wild. Tonight, however, things were quiet since it was still April and was not getting warm yet.
He had time to peruse the web and see what was new with the mall attacks yesterday. The Drudge Report was saying that each person had a Koran and that none had identification. MSNBC and The Huffington Post were still touting this as a right-wing militia attack that was being made to look like Muslims.
Just then a warning light flashed on the board showing the Con Edison Greenwood substation had an outage. No storms were in the area. He checked the breakers; they were all showing they had tripped. Power was rerouting, but he needed eyes on site. One of the repair trucks was down the road with a wreck and he knew the team.
“Truck 48, are you done with the wreck, over?” he spoke into the radio.
Lynn Dawson grabbed the radio, “ Hey, Roger, what got you in the dog house to work overnight? Yes, by the way, we are done and about to head back to the shop.”
“No cancel that, we have a breaker tripped at the Greenwood station and no storms. I want you to check it out please,” he said quickly in a thick New York accent.
“For double time I can go down and do some painting, if you sign off on it, boss,” Lynn quipped and then, “on the way boss, call you when we see something.”
They drove the six blocks to the substation and were met with a completely dark facility. The gate hung to one side as they pulled the truck into the yard. An errant spark now and then from the huge transformers was the only light visible. One of the men jumped out and checked the breaker panel, while one went into the small shack to see what had tripped the switches. Nothing seemed out of place. The four workers got flashlights from the truck and started a quick search around the yard. Nothing looked out of place until they looked up at the top of the massive transformers.
“Hey Lynn, what is that hanging from the top of the transformer?” one of the men asked.
Lynn moved the beam of the flashlight to the top of the nearest transformer and peered at what looked like a long piece of heavy chain with a bike lock at the end of it. He could not see how or why someone would throw a bike chain and lock over the fence and onto the unit. Then he looked at the second unit. Another one was on the tall spikes that connected the heavy wires. The two other workers had found one of the simple, yet so effective, devices. It was simply two 12 or so inch pieces of heavy chain forming an plus sign with locks on the end links. It looked like they were hanging from all the transformer lines.
Some group of kids had probably thrown all these chains over and did this to black out this substation, but why Lynn questioned silently. This one station might make it harder to keep everyone up and running, but it would be a small blackout at best and for how long? The transformers are hard to completely kill. He walked back to the truck as the other three stood and inspected the chain one of the men held in his hand. Lynn reached the truck and grabbed the microphone.
“Hey boss, it looks like some vandalism. Some kids must have made some bike lock chains and tossed them over the fence.” Lynn explained.
Grimes said he would call the police and to stand by.
Lynn clicked the mike to say they would standby.
Diagonally across the street from the substation was an old warehouse. Unknown to the Con Edison workers, a man was there to kill them and the police that would follow. Azizah Salem lay on the blanket and steadied the dragunov on the sand-filled bag. The first generation night vision scope mounted on the old rifle allowed him more than enough amplification and enhancement. He was confident that the four men would all be dead shortly. His training at the mosque in upstate New York had included targets at a much more challenging range. He cycled the bolt forward and aimed at the man standing by the truck.
“Allah guide my hand,” he whispered.
Lynn was about to speak with the microphone button held open. The shot rang out and Lynn started to turn his head in the direction when the 7.63x54 bullet tore through his neck and spinal cord. His body dropped to the ground. Three other shots in rapid succession and all four workers were dead on the ground. It was five minutes before Azizah could hear the sirens of the police and ambulance. He waited and placed a fresh magazine in the gun. Although most police vest would be unable to stop a normal round from the dragunov, these were specially made and armor piercing. Even if they took refuge behind the car door, he would be able to get to them.
The police and ambulance arrived almost at the same time and the police waved the paramedics to stay put while they checked the area. The windshield of the ambulance burst into shards as the first round killed the driver, then the second round killed the paramedic riding shotgun. The police took cover behind the open doors of their squad car. Azizah waited and watched to make sure they were able to call into the control room, then he shot both officers through the doors they had taken cover behind.
As the officer on the passenger side lay dying, he saw a man stand up on the building across the street.
"Allâhu Akbar".. the man raised something to his temple and then the report of the small 38 and Azizah fell to the pavement below.
The officer had no way of knowing, but this was carried out again and again across the country before rush hour ever hit the east coast.
The liberties of our country, the freedom of our civil constitution, are worth defending against all hazards
JT woke early and could hear the hustle and bustle of the hospital outside the door. He had a night-time visit with one of the agents, but feigned sleep and the agent left. He had no desire to get into any kind of back and forth yet with the FBI. It sounded like they were serious about this right-wing militia crap and frankly he fell squarely into that category though he had never been involved with any militia. He was sure the Fusion centers would more than likely classify him as one of those people that needed watching. JT believed in the Constitution and the Second amendment, liked Ron Paul and yes, he had been known to criticize the government on almost a daily basis online, by phone and old-fashioned snail mail.
He had decided not to call an attorney yet, but was going to play things close until he could figure out just what was going on. He hated to think that the government would intentionally cover this up, but he was not going to give them a free shot at taking something he said or did now to use to nail him in some way, simply so they would not have to admit that Muslim extremists were in this country and now carrying out attacks.
He flipped on the TV and watched some news as he contemplated what his best option was. He still was going crazy over the attacks, questioning why the government would not admit these were terrorist acts committed on American soil by Muslims. His wife and the kids had gone home when the doctor said the medications would knock him out for the night. He wanted them to get out from under the pressure of all the police hanging around. As he was about to reach for his cell phone, the door opened and he saw a burly man walk into the room. He noticed the sheriff's badge and wondered if the Bureau had decided to send a local in first to see if they could get any information. He looked to be in his late 50's, with a heavy mustache and trim build, in contrast to his first opinion. He looked to be about 6 feet tall, maybe 220, and looked to carry a glock on his left hip.
He moved over to the bed quietly and held out his hand.
“I am Sheriff Robert Boland,” he said, as he took JT's hand and shook it with a firm powerful grip.
The two men shook hands and stared for what seemed a long time. JT was trying to figure out why this man was here. The Louisville Metro Police would be taking care of the investigation and then hand it off to a detective. He was sure they would hand it off to the FBI since it was domestic terrorism.
“Nice to meet you, Sheriff... what can I do for you at this early hour?” JT said as their hands parted.
“Well,” the sheriff went on, “this is about the best time to get down here and meet you. They will be thinking you are still asleep and well, my second cousin is making friends with the guard that should be at your door.”
JT smiled and against his better judgment he liked this lawman.
“You did a courageous deed yesterday and people are going to look at you as a hero, but some are going to use this for political means and you may get caught in the crossfire... you seem like a smart and savvy fella, but these guys will do anything they can to make this look the way they want,” said the sheriff in a low tone.
The sheriff handed a small piece of paper to JT. " This is a number of a trustworthy lawyer and one that knows the secrets people in this town like to keep. If you decide to talk, then do so with a lawyer. Remember, you have the right to remain silent; use it." The sheriff was gone before he could say "thank you".
JT reached over with his right hand and grabbed his cell phone, opening the back. He folded the small paper, making sure it was tucked away securely. He clicked on the TV and watched some early news. Japan was still involved with the reactors and some people are saying that behind the scenes they were selling their hard assets - our debt.
The Middle East was in more turmoil. The Muslim brotherhood was now firmly in control of Egypt and it looked like the wonderful rebels who we backed in Libya were Al Qaeda. Israel was in a war, without calling it that, with whomever the PLO was calling themselves now. It droned on and on. The Fox Business Channel had on some economist from the Obama administration trying to explain that really people are going back to work and four dollar a gallon gas was a good thing. We could finally wean off of the nasty, earth-killing product.
The host looked like he wanted to ask if he actually had a degree and what it was in. Instead he pointed out that people were not getting back to work and that the real unemployment rate was in the range of 13-15 percent because many had finally given up looking for jobs. He also stated that gas was going up because the Middle East was in massive turmoil and what would happen if the oil that was now at $118 a barrel went to $150 because of the problems or some issue with the Strait of Hormuz or The Suez Canal.
The talking head babbled about the people were reaching for Democracy and this was going to be a great legacy for President Obama.
JT was just about to shut the television off when an alert popped up at the bottom of the screen. He waited until they broke in and spoke in a hurried tone. Some attack at some electrical substation in New York. There was no real damage to the electrical grid, just a power outage for a few areas. They were being brought back online, but people were killed. JT wondered how someone could have been killed if the situation was not that bad. A police spokesman was in front of the camera. Why would they have a police spokesman and not some guy with the electric company?
"I am New York Police department spokesman Yates. Approximately an hour ago there was an ambush attack at the Greenwood Substation, four Con Edison workers were shot, as well as two patrolmen and two paramedics. A person of interest was found at the scene with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head." The reporters started screaming and yelling questions. The officer waved them off and quickly said there would be no further comment until later.
One reporter took the opportunity to scream… "Were these Islamic fanatics and was this terrorism?"
Yates stared intently and looked to his left where men in suits could be seen, then looked back at the camera…“ the federal government is not ready to make any snap judgments, but from the point of view of the NYPD, yes, these are terrorists and they have every appearance of being Islamic based.”
The cameras continued to roll and watched as two of the apparent agents tried to corral the spokesman until he waved them off and gave them a not-so-nice gesture with his right hand. The Con Edison man was going on about how the damage to the substation was minor. They must have had no idea how to really damage one of the big transformers and they would be back up and running soon.
It came back to the Fox News show and you could tell the anchors were very emotional. They were talking and saying they would have more information later ...when they were interrupted.
Some phantom voice “I am sorry. Please wait, we are getting updates as we speak.”
The anchors waited and looked at the laptops in front of them, then looked at the scrolling lines behind the scenes. The pretty blond broke down in sobs.
Steve Ducy regained some composure and began to speak slowly and with somber resignation.
“We are sorry to report, but this seems to have been a massive attack across the nation. We are getting reports from Atlanta, Chicago and as far west as Phoenix. This appears to be an orchestrated attack on our police and rescue workers.”
JT wanted to speak with the doctors. Yeah, he had been shot a day ago, but he would feel a lot better being out of this hospital and at home., Things seemed to be getting out of control and these terrorists killing themselves makes no sense. He would speak with the doctors when they came in. He called the nurse for some pain meds. He had tensed up so much his left shoulder was very sore. A pretty nurse came in with a small syringe and started to inject the clear liquid into the IV line.
She leaned down and whispered, “you lay back and get some sleep… I am glad you got to talk with uncle bob.’”
His eyes went wide and he smelled the delightful smell of jasmine as he drifted into the darkness.
An enemy generally says and believes what he wishes.
The young man stood and watched the imam finish his prayers. The man kneeling on the floor on the prayer rug was a thin man who did not look his 70 years of age. He face showed weathered lines and a full dark beard. Imam my apologies but you said to let you know when the news reports started the young man spoke softly as the elderly man raised from his prayer rug.
“Yes my brother, I wished to know when our brothers had started our second wave of attacks on these infidels” he spoke softly.
Imam Aneef stood in front of a large window. Woods could be seen outside and as well as buildings beyond the trees. He looked out at the complex that had been created with monies from American charities and money laundered thru front groups. They will finance their own downfall he thought. This was but one of 10 across the nation with 100 acres each. They had built them as retreats and with the help of the liberal media calling any who stood in the way a bigot or raciest few had any problems. The retreat in Tennessee had in the end been moved and they would be made pay when the time comes but now was not the time to move from the path. Many had made sacrifices. The soldiers of Allah who died at the hands of their own brothers after their missions complete only to confuse and confound the simple minded fools. Their minds filled with corruption from their television their souls lost and wandering from Allah and their women dressed like whores with their faces uncovered. He turned and watched the news. Yes you would see soon why our brothers died. They gave their lives so you will feel terror; real terror that no place and no one is safe.
The imam walked over to the large intricately carved wooden desk sitting in a dark corner of the room away from the windows and prying eyes. He reached into the top drawer and withdrew a cellular phone. Before dialing he dismissed the young man with a wave of his hand. He tapped on the screen and then held the phone to his ear.
In a low voice he said “ is the package being delivered”
A whispered reply from the other end “yes”
“Allah be praised, after the package…release the vipers into the garden” he said softly and then ended the call.
The imam walked to the window and watched the men in the field run through their daily exercises and hand to hand combat training. They had been able to smuggle hundreds across the southern border and many more on student or work visas, enough to man these training facilities and teach the warriors of Islam. He walked and knelt down on his prayer run and began to recite the Koran and pray that Allah would protect his humble servants.
Every citizen should be a soldier. This was the case with the Greeks and Romans, and must be that of every Free State.
Agent Dawes finished the phone call to DC and finalized his report on the Mall of America. 4 men of apparent Arab heritage were dropped off they walked through the mall shot everyone they could and then were killed by an accomplice. The director was on some tirade that there was no sure evidence of Islamic terrorism. They had so far been unable to get a statement from the man in Louisville. He was being medicated for the pain and after the news on the morning shows he had needed pain meds from the sheer anger and tension. Director Sieve had called agent Eliz and asked that they make sure and speak with the shooter today. Dawes was keeping up with the goings on down in the bluegrass state. He was worried this guy had stopped one of the attacks and wondered if Eliz had added any security for this man. He would text Tim later and ask. He checked online and looked at the reports being posted. They were all the same and some of the new reports about the ambushes. There were none of the terrorists to interrogate. This worried him and he knew even if the director would no admit it this was an oddity. Suicide bombers wanted and killed as many as they could and usually a second would be around and kill the rescue workers. It made no sense. He picked up the blackberry and sent a text to Tim and inquired about the extra security. He got a quick reply and just as he had expected nothing was being done actually Eliz had already began to look into this guy’s background and see if he was militia. Dawes shook his head. This was getting out of hand. To cater to the Muslims was one thing and to not investigate 100 acre compounds at the directors and AG direction was another but this out and out misrepresentation was something else. They had to know that they would be forced to accept this was Muslim extremists soon. The sheriff had already let it slip here and Dawes had been on the call when one of the agents was talking about the NYPD giving them the finger and basically telling them to go to hell.
As Dawes was heading out to catch the flight back to DC he took a stop by the computer and typed a quick note to Tim.
The blackberry on Agent Smiths side gave a slow and silent vibration as he rode the elevator up to meet with the only person who had been able to stop the carnage of the last two days. As they stepped out of the elevator he and agent Eliz he grabbed the blackberry and said he would catch up it could be data on the Tanner individual. Eliz nodded and walked slowly down the hallway. He really did not want Smith with him. He was going to get vital information and then get back to the director and let them decide how to treat this suspect. He mentally corrected himself witness. Eliz was not a big fan of this … witness, he was a gun owner and he had taken the law into his own hands. No matter what had happened or who he had saved this was the job for law enforcement and no one else. He did not like people being able to carry or for that matter have many of the guns this guy seemed to own. He smiled yeah sure that sale data gets erased after 72 hours he chuckled to himself.
Agent Smith looked down at his Blackberry and saw the encrypted text and typed in a long string alphanumeric code and the message appeared.
Find me a Security Six Love Mom.
Tim typed back.
Ok. Hope you are not going to cause any trouble Mom.
Tim knew his friend and knew better then to ask about this. He knew Dawes was not happy about the direction the FBI had taken recently and especially in the last few years. He started to walk faster to catch up with Eliz. He caught up with him at the nurse’s station.
“we have to wait the doctor is seeing him” Eliz said with a touch of anger.
“So your feeling a little better then we did when we came in yesterday Mr. Tanner “ the young physician smiled and said with a smirk.
JT looked at the 30 year old Doctor with a cross between dislike and disdain. He was not fond of doctors but then again he did want to get his way so.
“yep getting shot twice will just ruin a perfectly good spring day” JT said smiling.
“any complaints or problems today’ The doctor asked.
“well I was hoping for some bourbon the IV and if the nurses could wear some skirts it would improve the scenery” JT said with a coy smile as he saw the doctor crack and large grin he decided this was the time.
“ actually doc I was wanting to ask about how long you want to keep me here” JT asked still keeping a light and humorous tone.
“Well…” The doctor started “it will be some time although you are closed up and doing good with no need for drainage tubes we need to keep an eye on you for several more days.”
“ doc let me be honest with you. I can get the antibiotic in the iv from home and a home care nurse can come once a day and check on me. My wife and I can take my temps every few hours and as long as the woods do not look red and have any discharge they should be doing find” JT said quickly with a bit more tone then was needed.
The doctor was taken aback and just a little shocked. This man knew a fair amount about care of a wound and yes the main issues associated with them.
Before the doctor could come up with a quick reply JT added “ listen doc” he was going to play the trump card now and it would either work or not “ I am worried about the staff, what if the terrorist want to try and get me. How many people would be in danger and there is no way to secure the whole hospital, a doctor, nurse or patient could be killed. I could not have that on my conscious” he smiled inwardly. He could see the wheels turning in the doctor’s head and knew he would be worried it would be him that got killed. Ya have got to love self preservation.
“ I see” the doctor said “ I can understand you do not want people to be in danger. I will ask the nurse to start putting things together and we will see about releasing you tomorrow. “
“Oh one more thing the FBI is waiting” The doctor said.
JT responded “please ask them to give me a sec and ask the nurse if she could help me to the bathroom”
The doctor nodded and was out the door.
JT dropped the rail and slowly moved his leg over the side of the bed and onto the cold tile floor. He reached into the drawer for the cell phone and sent a quick text message to his wife.
Coming home tomorrow (do not ask) find a nurse that can come by once a day and ask the kids to be down here to get me after I call them. Also send this message to the local channel 3 news, have Dan post it to my Frugal Squirrels account he knows the username and password. I am not sure they know who I am but this will get out there in the blog and then it will be hard to stop. This was a big gamble maybe he should call the lawyer first and then he sent the text message.
The nurse came in and he said he had decided to just sit into the always cold hospital recliner and just as usual the hospital gown was covering nothing. Once he was seated and covered he asked for the blanket and covered his legs. He leaned back to recline slightly and winced at the pain. When he was as comfortable as possible he the nurse know she could let the FBI agents come back to his room. The doctor was talking on the phone as the nurse walked towards the two agents. She stopped and let them know that it was ok to go in and see the patient now. Agent Smith had been trying to catch the conversation going on behind them while Agent Eliz he was sure was in his own little world. Smith smiled as he caught that Mr. Tanner had asked to leave as soon as possible for the safety of the hospital. They were talking quietly about letting him go with in home nursing tomorrow midday. The doctor thought no notice was better then letting everyone know.
Agent Smith was caught off guard when Agent Eliz began walking and took a quick two steps to catch up. As they approached the door Agent Eliz turned to Agent Smith and looked him in the eyes and said coldly. “ I am doing this interrogation and you are here to assist me is that clear”
Agent Smith slowly nodded and then asked “are we interrogating a suspect or doing an interview of a witness… I does kind of matter”
Agent Eliz face flared red and he seemed almost at the point of eruption but held it back.
Finally the Agent spoke “yes we are interviewing but he did kill 4 men yesterday and he may be involved with a militia and we know he is a rabid 2nd amendment proponent”
Agent Smith knew he treaded on thin ice but could not hold back he had completed his PhD last year and well was not sure he wanted the agency line anymore and knew this last dig might make that happen.
Agent Smith spoke softly as Agent Eliz turned the handle “ all of which are perfectly legal”
Smith pushed the door open before Eliz could complete the explosion that was building.
JT welcomed the agents and asked them to sit down. They both remained standing and introduced themselves, Agent Tim Smith and Agent Eliz. JT found it odd that the second agent seemed flushed and angered as well as seem to not offer a first name. Smith seemed more at ease and thanked JT for seeing them.
Agent Eliz took the lead “sir we are here to ask about the events of yesterday afternoon”
Before the agent could get anymore of the speech he had planned out.
JT waved his had for the agent to stop ”first am I a suspect… and do I need my Miranda rights read to me”
Agent Eliz was caught off guard “ yes” he stated “you are a suspect for the killings of 4 men and endangering the lives of countless others and being a member of a militia group”
“then I have the right to remain silent anything I say can be used against me but not for me and have counsel and one will be appointed if needed” is that correct he said.
Agent Smith piped in “ yep that about covers it”
Agent Eliz shot a fierce glare to Agent Smith and then looked back to Mr. Tanner.
“ we want to clear up what happened and what involvement you had. You own an large assortment of guns and seem to have some problems with the current administration” Agent Eliz said in an accusatory tone.
JT sat back and thought for a moment and spoke softly “ I own whatever I own legally and it is none of your business. I wonder if the GOA needs to doing a freedom of information request to see if the FBI is keeping sales statistics it is by law suppose to be destroyed. As for yesterday I saw 4 men walking into the Mall in St Matthews with what appeared to be AK47. Through their mannerisms and dress and spoken word they appeared to be Muslim terrorists. I was shot by them twice”
Agent Eliz waited for more. “Go on” he said.
JT smiled “that is my statement at this time”
Agent Eliz became furious “ do you think this is some game. You are dealing with the FBI, we can tear your life apart and I promise we will. We can hold you and drop you into a dark hole that you will never see the light of day.”
JT had expected this “ I am sure you can but as I see it you have a story already lined out and I am not going to go quietly. I have no alliance to any militia and you know it. Your PC loving bosses are trying to cover their collective asses with the Muslims and I am not going to be the sacrifice. I invoke my right to counsel and will let you know who it is tomorrow”
Agent Eliz moved towards Mr. Tanner but was stopped with a firm hand from Agent Smith. He pulled the agent towards the door before agent Eliz could make a protest.
“what do you think you are doing… I am the lead agent” Eliz sputtered.
Yes and he invoked and your actions would look bad on the 6 o’clock news. Reporters are everywhere and what if one caught all that. How would it look for the Agency threatening a may who 24 hours ago saved a mall full of people something no one else has done. Eliz jerked away and headed for the elevators.
I am going back to Washington and make my report to the director your part in all of this will be noted. I would not look for any more promotions Agent Smith. As the pair passed the throng of reporter one yelled out and asked if they had spoken with witness.
Agent Eliz spun around “ yes and the witness is being un cooperative and verbally combative, we are not sure of his involvement in a militia and his gun ownership makes him a viable suspect in the deaths of the men at the mall”
A reported from the back “ you mean the terrorists that were there to kill everyone they could”
Agent Eliz ignored him and started to say something else when.
I am Kelly Renolds from the local Channel 3 news” I wonder do you have a comment that Jerome Tanner says that he was protecting people and took what action was needed. He wanted to thank all the people for their prayers and well wishes. He said he had never been in a militia but would not cooperate with the FBI since it seemed like they already had a storyline and only needed a sucker to pin it on. He went on I am an honest and God fearing gun owner cannot believe that this is an honest investigation when all the evidence points to Muslim extremists and this PC worshipping administration will not even use the word Muslim and terrorist in the same breath.”
The agent went on a tirade about interference and investigation all while the cameras were rolling. Agent Smith eventually moved him into the suburban and smacked the top telling the driver to head to the airport. He walked to his rental car and smiled. He had worried about Tanner when he had started talking almost wanting to yell “ the right to remain silent what part did you miss” but Tanner had backed the lead agent into a corner and knew he would complain about no cooperation when he was in front of the reporters. He made the agent look like irrational and the agency look foolish. Well played Mr. Tanner well played. Agent smith pulled away from the curb and headed downtown he had some old friends that could help with the errand Agent Dawes needed.
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