Abshul Nahimid Kehochi non-chalantly looked at his surroundings as he drove into the employee parking lot of Great America. The amusement park's 2000 employees were arriving for the night shift, those working from 4 p.m. to Midnight arriving just at 3:45. After all, no one was paid to be early in the minimum wage set. Despite the fact that the timeclock was notorious for being five minutes early, everyone took the chance that they would be in line waiting to punch in when the clock ticked over.
Not that Abshul cared. He certainly wasn't here for the money. Unknown to his supervisor or the people Abshul worked with, he routinely carried ten thousand U.S. dollars in $100 bills in his money belt at his waist. Also unknown was the 4 UZI machine guns stored in a false bottom of the trunk of his old Toyota 1600 sedan. The fading paint and ragged interior served to project his image of barely English-literate college student from Tehran, Iran.
In fact, Abshul had already graduated from UCLA five years ago, with a degree in economics and a Masters in Political Science. His plans, now thoroughly thwarted by his cousin Jahlbad's recruitment into "nimr' billail' - Tigers in the Night. Not that the recruitment had been difficult for his cousin, after all it was he that, with funds from Moymar Khadify's purse, had paid for his excellent education. And naturally Abshul had worshiped his cousin, known as the Angel in the U.S. and Jihad at home, from the day he had attained manhood.
Now his mission was simple. Work here until the day of Glory came. His previous mission complete, he could now relax and wait. No longer did he have to worry about the weapons.
He had been a little surprised at the level of security when the park first opened in the Spring. The Santa Clara city police as well as the county police had swarmed over the park during the Easter weekend, the better than 150 officers chilling Abshul's bravado. But as the Spring wore into Summer, the initial checks and rechecks began to wane. Today for instance, his duffel bag hadn't been inspected, his lunch unmolested. If he had brought one of the UZIs in today, no one would ever have known.
Of course he didn't know that when he walked in from the parking lot. But he would watch and wait. He had another two months before the Independence Day pre-holiday security kicked in. This was the time he wanted to avoid. During the two weeks prior to the July 4th weekend, the police would be checking everything coming into the park with metal detectors and dogs. Santa Clara was proud of their successful enterprise and would be especially careful to keep it "clean" during the holidays.
Maybe tomorrow Abshul would find the perfect spots to hide the weapons. One per cache as Jihad had instructed. Maybe the next day. It did not matter, he still had plenty of time.
Janine Ramir also reported to work that day, only she had awakened at 5:00 a.m. so she could be ready to follow the crowd of vendors into the San Jose Flea Market at 6:30 in the morning. Here, where there was no security, she delivered ammunition to her compatriots via the cleverly disguised stereo tape deck cartons. Her companions simply paid for the tape decks with their American Express cards, the form never being sent into the credit card company, the purchase not actually moving the merchandise as labeled. For instance the 150 watt, full function stereo tape deck from Hong Kong she just sold to a young Libyan student really contained 500 rounds of 9mm parabellum ammunition, packaged in the long clips used by the UZI machine gun. Of course, their enterprise was also fairly successful, the imported automobile stereos were at a decent price and the profit margin excessive even with the low overhead of the Flea Market stalls.
Janine's only worry was shoplifters. It would not do to have the bogus stock lifted. Therefore, she, like so many of the retailers in the flea market, kept weighted but empty boxes in the displays, and the real stock (ammunition or actual tape decks) deep inside where she could keep control. Once or twice a day, she was greeted with "nharak sa'id Natasha" and once a week it was invariably Jihad himself, playing the courier to his people in Silicon Valley.
Jihad smiled at her each time he arrived, and when asked how many units she had left, she would answer with a two digit figure. For instance yesterday she had replied "85" for the 85 thousand rounds of ammunition she had moved so far. When the number reached 100 thousand, sometime next month, Jihad would have armed his entire regiment in Silicon Valley.
Yes Jihad was pleased with his ammunition supplier. It was the most successful importation of weaponry and ammunition in the history of the U.S.
Oblivious to the weapons and ammunition making way into Silicon Valley, Jud, Ray, Fredricks, and Colonel Marstoni still were pondering over the next steps the terrorists would take. Despite the heavy inflow of military into the bay area, Rangers at Hamilton, Delta at Moffet and Travis, and the heightened strengths at Fort Ord and Treasure Island, they all felt unprepared. It was with these thoughts that they met the next morning, once again on the 16th floor under the Blue Cube.
"The problem is" Fredricks was speaking, the others listening, as usual in awe of the man's experience and leadership,
"...is that we just can't slap martial law on the Bay Area. This is a huge economic center. We must have commerce going on, from 5:00 in the morning to 11:00 or 12:00 at night. Our Rangers stand out like sore thumbs despite their trolling around in their old chevys and beat up pickup trucks. Someone is bound to be poking around here and stumble across these overly well groomed hunks cruising the Bay Area. And I can't wait til one of your Cops, Jud, stops them and finds the gear in the trunk. ID or not, some of our boys are going to land in jail, waiting for the Watch Commander to finally place the call to barracks."
"You prepared for that" asked Marstoni, knowing full well the answer.
"You bet. Hamilton, Ft. Mason, Ft. Ord, Travis, Treasure Island, and Alameda all switch the calls into our headquarters at Hamilton. Our Information Officers there have hotlines into the Police Chiefs in all seven police forces."
"The seven strike again" murmured Jud, and Marstoni grinned.
He was referring to the controversial but extremely effective annual ignorance of city or county lines by all police and county sheriffs during the Christmas and New Years holidays. Silicon Valley drunks were swept during this three week period during random stops and drinking checkpoints, cities all over the nation taking notice and implementing their own similiar programs. The advertising of the event kept the "social" drinkers aware but the more "out of it" drinkers never noticed the warnings. It wasn't the best method of stopping drinking and driving, but even Mothers Against Drinking - MAD - supported any major effort to help the situation.
Fredricks cleared his throat, only wishing that drunk drivers were all he was concerned with this summer. Of course they could use the idea.
"Hey, Jud. How about a Fourth of July operation?"
Everyone looked at Jud, and after a moment, a cheshire cat smile slowly formed on his face. "Yeah, and we have our cordite and powder smelling dogs spread out at the stops. Hell we may just stumble upon one or two of our 'friends'."
They all nodded approvingly. As Jud began to work out in his mind how to word the operation to the other Chiefs, so they in turn could pass on the instructions to their troops without making too much of it.
"And let's put some of our Rangers in uniform at these stops. Hell if we stop a carload of terrorists, we better have a fire-fight team or two at the ready. Especially if they have any more Redeye's around" chimed in Colonel Marstoni.
That wiped the smiles from their faces as they realized that disturbing the terrorists would produce horrible violence. The cliche of a hornet's nest buzzed thorugh their minds in unision. What a mess that could be. It was enough to make Jud want to put an M16 toting Ranger as a "ride along" in every patrol car.
"This is the shits" he said quietly and everyone nodded, even Fredricks looking worried now. The trouble with troops was getting them in the right place at the right time. Otherwise they were just another headache in an operation like this. And Fredricks was already getting one of his lu-lu's now, the pain beginning in his right temple and spreading across the forehead. Oh well, he was used to them by now, and vowed to get back to his duffel for the sinus medicine which seemed to work best for clearing up the stress related pain.
"Right you are, Jud. I have another idea. Let's go over the police patrols you have in place."
Jud looked at the man, wondering if he was psychic.