Chapter 11
The next morning we went to work and walked into total chaos. The old boss was scanning and shredding all his papers and packing books and folders into boxes, but the new boss was gone for endless meetings in Washington. Our old boss was there but it was very awkward as he directed his crew to scan, shred, or carry boxes to his truck. His truck was parked outside on the tarmac. The outside door was propped open and the entire office stunk like jet exhaust, and it gave me a headache. Someone put a bottle of extra strength Tylenol on the reception desk.
At 11am we signed out and when the officer of the day said it would be the day after tomorrow until he was done running away from home, we said we'd '...be back when it was over, please text me when the exhaust is gone,' then we left. My head was pounding and David felt sickly too, sickly and a bit cranky.
We drove home with the windows down and the fan blasting to try to get rid of that jet exhaust residue still trapped inside our noses.
Our ongoing discussions about working for the DOD continued, based on what he heard last night we decided to keep a wait and see attitude and tell our lawyer to pause the suits for now. I think even if Moses came in to run our office we'd probably still decide to quit after we reached our savings target.
We also looked at our finances again to see what we really could afford if we decided to quit the DOD early, or possibly do both jobs at the same time, or just the DOD. With cash and savings spread around it was difficult to keep track of exactly what we had. While looking at bank statements I forgot we had almost 191 pounds of cash in the tac-room. Our total savings was around 13mil, but if you're thinking of buying a radio station and starting a business that money could disappear quickly.
During the first week under Captain Johnson we got alerted by the Border Patrol that an Interpol/FBI Most Wanted, a Middle Eastern religious extremist and political terrorist was supposedly photographed crossing the border into southern Arizona. We were asked to fly immediately to Yuma, Arizona and meet with Border Patrol and FBI. They had already dispatched a Marine helicopter to meet us in 90 minutes at Biggs Army Airfield, we should be ready with our standard gear.
Ninety minutes was longer than we were accustomed to and Biggs was closer than ELP, so we took our time and got dressed, packed, and ready to drive to Biggs at a slower pace.
I called our office and one of our better lieutenants was on duty tonight, he'd already alerted Biggs command (we were well known on Biggs). This alert would be rather different, because so many different federal agencies were involved we were under the direction of the Pentagon, not our office in El Paso. I went into the tac-room and unplugged the case and switched the comms gear to the Pentagon transponder.
We'd leave home in jeans and jackets over long sleeve shirts. I handed David his AR glasses, they charged wirelessly inside our case. We got to Biggs fifteen minutes early and sat in the terminal building watching out the window for our ride. Everyone thought we would feel it before we could see it. The sergeant offered us some coffee but we declined since we were facing a three hour chopper ride. Those large helicopters were not known for comfort.
We heard an announcement from the speakers in the ceiling that an aircraft was approaching, both of us used the bathroom and walked out the door on the tarmac. The Marine Sikorsky CH53E chopper was one of those huge fighting machines that flew 190 mph and carried lots of weapons. We saw it approach from the west, it flew over the Franklin Mountains looking like large star in the sky, but we felt the chopping of the air in the chests miles away, this was a huge cargo helicopter that let everyone in northeast El Paso know it was flying over the town.
After it landed I felt weird walking in front of it with all those weapons. David said it had the extra fuel tanks mounted where some weapons systems would normally sit.
Once the crew chief established that we were the people they were ordered to transport we were quickly boarded and strapped into canvas seats along the side wall and given blankets and ear plugs. David and I were the only ones wearing civilian clothes. In a flash we lifted off and saw El Paso disappear beneath us. Once we got past I-10 everything was dark outside because there still weren't many people that lived in the strip of land the US purchased from Mexico in 1854 called the Gadsden Purchase. It was a 30,000 square mile chunk of desert and mountains that extended from Yuma to El Paso and formed the bottoms of Arizona and New Mexico today. The crewman in the back said we'd be landing on the middle of the highway in Yuma in about three hours, it was 520 miles from El Paso to Yuma.
The ride in that chopper was like three hours on a Tilt-a-Whirl inside a giant walk-in freezer. The crew were properly dressed, but not us. And I think they put us in the worst seats they had because we dared climb on board in jeans.
At 11:55pm after circling twice we actually landed on I-8 where it was closed to route all traffic through the check point.
There was a special briefing at 1am for twenty four people, I think some of them were bounty hunters. I was surprised we didn't see Duane Chapman and company in the room.
The bottom line was they spotted and positively identified an FBI/Interpol Most Wanted from Syria that had crossed the border into Arizona about four hours ago with a regular group of Mexicans. She said some of the coyotes were also agents of the USA and were paid to ID possible terrorists trying to sneak into the USA.
This group was monitored jumping out of a bus on the border highway, Mexico Route-2 about four miles west of Lukeville, Arizona. The only highway north from town was Highway 85, it ran north through the towns of Why and Ajo, all the way up to Gila Bend on I-8. Arizona-85 continued north to Buckeye, a far southwestern suburb of Phoenix. It was a common route used by coyotes to smuggle people into the USA, they ran vehicles up and down AZ-85 hauling illegals up to Phoenix.
They said considering the elapsed time this group was possibly north of Why in a truck on Highway 85. The state police were monitoring all north bound vehicles and secretly photographing all license plates and vehicles heading north, they activated surveillance after they ID'd Mohammed Ali Hamadei on the IR camera images. He said there were common places the coyotes passed under the border fence, in washes and dry creeks, they had IR motion activated cameras in the brush the illegals had no idea where there. Every fifteen minutes they sent their images by satellite to the Border Patrol, even if it was just a desert animal.
They showed us aged photos of Hamadei and his rather unique face. He was actually a handsome man with very wide eyebrows and a nice smile based on his driver's license photo. There was a $10 mil award for his live capture. As soon as she said ten million bucks David shouted that we were wasting time, let's go!
After the meeting we all left for unmarked vans outside, our group was watching Highway-85 all the way to I-8 then east to I-10.
While we waited for our driver David and I stepped aside and had one of our brainstorming sessions.
"Why is this guy motivated to enter the USA with a bounty so large?" I asked David to start our planning session.
"Why? I'd say he came here for a few reasons: Love, liquor, and food. He's been out of action for so long I'd say terror was not the reason, so that leaves booze, drugs, sex, and food. Everything else he could do easily in his home country, why risk capture and a firing squad coming to the US?"
"What can he get here but not in Syria?" I asked.
"White woman pussy, liquor, and some kinds of food like pork ribs, smoked brisket, pork sausages, high quality cocaine, beer, liquor, wine, and maybe deep dish pizza."
"Where would he go first?" I asked.
"Probably around Phoenix, large middle eastern population all living in one area of the city, maybe Tucson but mostly around Tempe."
"Can he get all that stuff in Tempe and remain unnoticed?"
"Hell yes! There's a large Middle Eastern population around ASU in Tempe, many wealthy families across Arabia send their kids to college at ASU because it's in the desert and the living is good and safe in Tempe. They don't stand out, they have Halal restaurants, Muslim people, lots of Muslim women, and there're mosques in town too."
"Tempe it is," I slapped him on the shoulder.
"Oh yeah, where would they go first?"
"Probably a Syrian restaurant, waltz in the back door for hugs, and several phone calls, welcome to Merica! Then they'd sit him down to a plate of food and a cold beer."
"What's the best way to Tempe from here?"
"Through the town of Maricopa."
We called the Pentagon via our headsets and had them call the Maricopa Police and ask which gas stations in town had Middle Eastern employees working at night and she immediately said the Circle-K at Honeycutt Road and John Wayne Parkway.
I discussed our plan with the driver, he was immediately happy and we took off in the van and raced as fast as we could to the town of Maricopa, 171 miles away. They started on foot and had a three hour head start, but we were in a van with two other people and had a V8 and could drive over 100mph and that's exactly what we did. I made a bet with David that Hamadei's first hour in Tempe would have him strip, shower, open a pint of Jack Daniels, receive a professional blow job, smoke a joint and listen to some country music. That would be a list of things that would be nearly impossible to do in Syria.
Two hours later we were on Highway 347 heading north into Maricopa racing as fast as we could, passing other cars like a crazy driver. We found the gas station and parked at a pump but did not explain why we sat at the pump for two hours (to the employees), but local police were advised and we saw the city cops drive by several times.
Our driver went inside to keep the cashier busy with bullshit conversation, myself and two others stayed low inside the van on the bench seats while David stood beside the van pretending to pump gas for two long hours.
At 3:45am a truck marked Gonzales Produce, Maricopa, Arizona pulled up on the other side of our pump. The only person in the cab was the driver, he looked 100% Mexican.
He started to fill the tank when someone inside the back pounded on the wall, so he banged the truck once with his fist and angrily yelled something in Arabic. David gently tapped the glass on the van to alert us, nearly asleep on the bench seat. Everything happened so fast, this is the best I can recall what happened, moment by moment:
I quietly slipped out the other van door and went to the bathroom and stood at the urinal, moments later the door opened and in came two shaggy black haired men, not speaking. One of them waited for me to finish while the other washed his face in the sink. I hit the flush handle and stepped back to close my pants then moved to the side to trade places with the guy waiting to pee.
I half expected he would pull a knife and stick me as we swapped places, but nothing happened. I never looked at him, just his shoes and pants. And I didn't stare at the sink guy either, just a glance. Then I stood against the back wall to wait my turn at the sink.
My heart pounded because our primary target was associated with hundreds of killings and the hijacking of TWA 847 in June of 1985. His face, eyebrows, and forehead were unmistakable. I turned around and grabbed a paper towel and pretended to blow my nose and spit into the trash can as he stepped over to the paper towel dispenser and mumbled `eh skewz me.' I whispered to David that Hamadei was in the bathroom, come quickly. David knocked on the van window then walked towards the bathrooms. He told me later there were six illegals in the truck, he didn't think any of them would get involved.
I stepped aside but didn't look at him as he dried his hands and wiped his face. I stepped to the sink and turned on the water to wash my hands. I saw them trembling like crazy as I held them under the faucet.
When Hamadei reached over to drop the paper towel into the trash can I spun around and lunged at his wrist. I twisted hard which forced him to fall sideways to the floor (I heard his head go thud on the floor), I socked him in the face as hard as I could. Then the guy from the urinal jumped on my back and shoved me into the wall and started punching the side of my head and I immediately saw stars.
The door burst in and I heard a scuffle of shoes on the filthy tile floor. After a loud thud the guy from the urinal landed on the floor a few feet from me like a big dead marlin. I only had a good view of the floor, that's when I saw David's boots walk towards me, he reached down and lifted me against the wall and looked in my eyes, "anybody home in there?" he asked as his eyes scanned my pupils. It took me a few moments to remember what was going on, David got Hamadei rolled over, face down, his face was a big bloody mess, I think he got knocked out when his head smacked the floor.
We grabbed his upper arms, lifted him up and dragged him out of the bathroom, down the sidewalk, and dropped him face down on the pavement behind our van, we rope tied his wrists, then his ankles to his neck. Then we patted him down and took his knife (as a souvenir). One of our crew ran into the bathroom and tied up the other man while the driver called for backup and within ten minutes there were more cop cars than I've ever seen in one place in my life. State, county, city, Border Patrol, everyone but the CDC and IRS showed up to see the celebrity terrorist, on the run since June, 1985. Hell, there was even two helicopters circling above the place. We had him tied up and laid out on the driveway like a hog ready for the smoker. (We're Texas boys, that's how we roll.)
He kept trying to engage us in conversation and asked to use the bathroom and get him a drink of water and anything he could think of to get off the gas station driveway but we never answered his pleas or loosened the ropes. I saw the rest of the illegals in the back of the produce truck snuck away one at a time but nobody did anything to stop them.
Eventually a special squad of heavily armed FBI peeps in black gear arrived from Phoenix and took both men (and the driver) into custody in an armored bank truck and took him to the city in a caravan of four vehicles, probably all of them well armed too. Those two helicopters followed overhead too.
There were no formal statements to the media about our capture, but we heard he was fingerprinted, photographed, DNA sample collected, and chained at the waist, ankles, and wrists. They had a mesh net over his head when he was put inside what looked like an APC on wheels for the ride to Skyharbor Airport from the FBI office in downtown Phoenix, and eventually by private jet to the ADMAX prison near Florence, Colorado, where he will spend the rest of his life.
The sun was up by the time the gas station crowd started to thin out, even TV news crews from Phoenix drove all the way to Maricopa to shoot video. We got a chance to talk to a local cop about getting a hotel room but learned we were only three blocks north of the Amtrak station, so we walked down there and bought two tickets to El Paso, the train would be here around 11pm tonight night (but it was currently 8am). Then we got a motel room nearby and showered and stayed in bed most of the day. We had a nice time, we watched CMT and I relaxed with David and used his stomach as a pillow and his dick as a pacifier. He produced four loads of semen for me that day and I think we both said 'I love you' every hour.
That entire episode occupied my brain for the rest of the day. Everybody had a knife but nobody got stabbed, it was almost 10am until my heart stopped pounding. For lunch we walked to a gas station and got a foot long Italian sub and some beers and went back to the hotel and fucked again, then we ate.
That night we boarded the Amtrak in the coach car which was like a super big Greyhound bus that would transport us to downtown El Paso about 3pm tomorrow. We reclined way back and caught a few Z's until they announced the train was about to cross over into Texas. That last ten miles of track before the El Paso Amtrak station was a winding mess of squeaky steel rails between piles of sand and rock. Rusted steel border fence on one side, New Mexico desert on the other side.
And you cannot use your cell phone at the El Paso Amtrak station because you're only 200 feet from Mexico, your cell connects to a cell provider in Juarez and without warning any local calls to El Paso suddenly become an international call at $49 a minute. What a racket and there were no signs to warn people about the scam.
I told David we needed to come back here one night with a hunting rifle and a scope and take out the offending single antenna they had on the border that aimed into El Paso.
In downtown El Paso we got a taxi to David's truck at Biggs Airfield then drove home. I unlocked the front door at 4:45pm, when David stepped in the door I tapped his arm and pointed to the panel just inside the front door, it said `VACATION/AWAY MODE,' I turned to smile at him and put the home automation system back into normal mode.
We fully realized there was a huge reward for his live capture but had no idea how or when it was paid so we didn't start to celebrate. We never asked him why he came to the USA but it might have been interesting to hear why. We had no reason to believe anything he said, and I had no clue if he spoke English, but he probably knew enough to order a pizza, another shot of Jack, and another blonde with big tits and a tight kitty.
Note: contact the author borischenaz gmail