Consent To Kill

54

The stolen Mercedes ML 500 had only 8,456 miles on it. It was black and had dark tinted windows just as Tayyib had requested. He had seen quite a few of the mini sport utility vehicles since he'd arrived in America. They were fairly common, but still expensive. Tayyib thought it would be a good vehicle to both blend in and remain above suspicion. After leaving the shop in Alexandria, he had taken the expressway out toward Dulles International Airport. From there he'd taken the Hirst-Brault Expressway north toward Leesburg. About six miles south of the town he took a detour and headed west. He came upon the horse farm a few minutes later and kept his speed at 55 mph as he drove along the edge. Trees dotted the fence line and obscured the house that sat atop a hill a good four hundred yards off the road. The main gate had cameras mounted on both the left and the right. Tayyib guessed Castillo and his people would have little trouble getting past it.

He continued down the county road for a few more miles and then turned around to head back to town. It was twilight and he needed to get into position. On the way into Leesburg, Tayyib drove past the Loudoun County Sheriff's Department. He'd found the address on the internet and printed directions from MapQuest. Six cruisers and a Suburban were parked in the lot along with another half dozen civilian cars. He continued into town and did a slow pass of the government center and the police department. He noted three police cars in the lot and another one pulling out. He had no idea when the shift changes took place but he doubted it was at 9:30 on a Saturday night. He drove slowly through the quaint town. It was filled with antique stores, bed and breakfasts, and a smattering of coffee shops, ice cream parlors, bars, and restaurants.

Tayyib parked on the street around the corner from a cafй. He walked back to the cafй and was greeted by an overly enthusiastic and underdressed young woman. He ordered an espresso to go and looked around the place. There were three other patrons inside: two teenagers making out near the front window and a young man pecking away on his laptop computer. Tayyib felt like slapping the young couple but reminded himself he had more important things to do. After paying in cash he went and stood in front of the cafй until the time was right. The air seemed a bit chilly, but none of the locals seemed to mind it. A woman in a tank top passed by walking a dog, and a couple of teenage girls sat in front of the ice cream parlor in skirts that barely made it a third of the way down their thighs. Across the street he could hear loud music spilling out of a bar, couples were out and about, and a few teenagers whizzed by on skate-boards. They all seemed to be having a grand time. Well, that's about to end, Tayyib thought to himself.

Tayyib was standing next to a small tree. He studied the branches for a second and picked his spot. After checking his watch one more time, he drained the rest of the espresso and threw the cup to the ground. Turning to the side so the two young lovers couldn't see what he was doing, he reached into his left jacket pocket and pulled out a hand grenade and a coil of fishing line. Tayyib turned his back to the cafй, looked to his left and his right, and then took the grenade and slid the spoon over one of the branches. The grenade dangled there like a piece of fruit-its matte green finish not quite blending in with the bright fall colors. Tayyib grabbed the end of the fishing line. One end was tied to the pin and he wrapped the other end around two fingers, dropping the loose coil to the ground. Casually, he started back for the car. A middle-aged couple passed him on the sidewalk and he edged closer to the street so they wouldn't get their feet tangled in the line. The last thing he wanted was a bunch of shrapnel in his back.

When Tayyib reached the corner he stopped and turned around. He could only make out the first few feet of the fishing line and then it disappeared in the shadows. The middle-aged couple were almost to the cafй and two women were approaching from the other direction. The more mayhem, the better, Tayyib thought to himself. He grabbed the coil firmly in his hand and continued around the corner. Once he was shielded he drew in the slack and gave the line a good yank. The line popped free and Tayyib dropped the loose bundle of fishing line to the ground.

He started for the car, counting the seconds in his head. He got to five, and then it happened. A loud explosion ripped through the still night air. Tayyib unlocked the Mercedes, climbed behind the wheel, and put the car in drive. He drove down Plaza Street and two blocks later stopped for a red light. When the light turned green, he continued past the police station and headed out of town, careful to maintain the posted speed.

Tayyib reminded himself that the important thing was to stay calm. He put on a pair of gloves and grabbed a black ski mask from the passenger seat. A few minutes later he turned onto Catoctin Circle and pulled up in front of the Sheriff's Department. Nothing had changed. The same vehicles were parked in the same spots. Tayyib pulled the ski mask over his head and threw the Mercedes in park. He calmly got out of the car, walked around to the rear of the vehicle, and popped the tailgate. Inside was an oily tarp from the garage. Tayyib moved it out of the way and grabbed a Chinese-made rocket-propelled grenade. It was loaded and ready to go. He shouldered the weapon and turned to aim it at the front door just as two deputies were rushing out. Tayyib widened his stance, put most of his weight on his back foot, and squeezed the trigger. The 40mm round traveled at a speed of 400 feet per second and Tayyib was a mere eighty feet from the building. There was a split-second delay and then a swooshing noise followed almost immediately by the detonation of the grenade.

Thousands of shards of glass flew in every direction. Tayyib lowered the weapon and looked at the two deputies. They were both on the ground just his side of the door. Neither was moving. Tayyib assessed the damage that had been done by the RPG round. Smoke was pouring out of the building and he could hear people screaming from inside. He dropped the RPG to the ground, and it clattered on the asphalt. In a nearly robotic fashion he pulled the last grenade from his pocket, yanked the pin, and threw the grenade through the shattered entrance, over the bodies of fallen deputies and toward the chorus of panicked voices. He turned, closed the tailgate, and was at the open driver's door when the grenade detonated. He didn't even flinch. He got behind the wheel, put the car in drive, and calmly pulled back out onto the county road.

Tayyib removed the ski mask and checked his watch. Castillo and his men would be moving into position and starting their attack any minute. As tempted as Tayyib was to go monitor the situation, he knew he needed to get rid of the vehicle as quickly as possible. He stepped on the gas and headed south for Dulles International Airport.