Chapter VII

August 12, 2021

DeShawn arrived at the Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport. He cleared customs easily. The TSA agent looked up at DeShawn after seeing the country DeShawn passed through but let him pass. Nonetheless, DeShawn called for an Uber to take him to Roswell, a medium-sized town north of Atlanta.

I must get my driver’s license, he thought as he awaited the car to arrive. That will be my first task besides a place to live.

He booked a room at the Marriott Extended Stay. It was nice and had all he needed while finding a place.

The next day, he traveled to the DMV downtown. Along the way, he noticed a bicycle shop. He would stop there on the way back. Inside the DMV, they told him he was in luck. If he passed the written exam today, they had an opening for a driving test tomorrow.

“How great!” DeShawn told the lady behind the counter. “Let’s do this!”

Of course, the written exam was passed. So he told the lady he would be back tomorrow. She told him to be there by 9:30 and the examiner would take him driving at 10:00. DeShawn shook his head that he understood and decided to go back and visit the bike shop.

On the way, he saw an ice cream parlor across the street. He had to go there! He couldn’t remember the last time he had tasted ice cream.

“A double scoop of strawberry,” he told the young girl working behind the counter. He was thinking, How great! 

As he exited the store, he bumped straight into a man who was with his wife and got strawberry ice cream on his shirt. The man’s eyes shot fire at him!

“Just great!” the man exclaimed. “You would think your type might one day pay attention! But no!!! Your type doesn’t learn!”

DeShawn apologized but the man would hear nothing of it as his wife dabbed at the ice cream.

“Just leave!” the man exclaimed. “Go crawl back to where you came from! Worthless! Just worthless!”

DeShawn said he was sorry again and backed out of the situation. Now he no longer wanted to visit the bike shop. He just wanted to go back to his room and look for a job. The people of America had not changed. Not at all!

Back at his room, he turned on the TV to get caught up in the world. It was as if he never left! The murder rate was escalating, hate crimes, mass killings, rioting in Washington, etc. He turned the news off. The infidels never change. The hatred never leaves. But it would!

“I will stop when I take all they have away. I’ll just wait!”

He started researching top engineering companies in Atlanta and settled on submitting his resume to three firms, all mechanical engineering firms. During his trip to the States, he had put his resume together since he had a lot of extra time to waste. But after submitting the resume on his iPad, there was little to do but hope for a call.

The next day, DeShawn walked out of the DMV with license in hand. He walked through the town to scope out what was there. He did find what he was hoping for, a Walmart. He walked into the store and went to the electronics department. He purchased a cheap phone and the cheapest calling plan possible and then left. Outside, he dialed the number Omar had given him. He left a short message: “Meet me in three days, Saturday, August 17, at 2:00 P.M. at the City Barbeque on the corner of Main and 3^rd streets in Roswell, GA.” Then he hung up.

DeShawn walked into the alley, threw the phone on the ground, smashed it with his foot, scooped it up and threw its pieces into two separate dumpsters. He then turned and went straight to a Buy Here, Pay Here Auto Dealership. He looked around the lot at the cars and saw what he was looking for. It was a worn 2012 Subaru. It had a few dents but looked okay. The salesman told him it was a one-owner vehicle but DeShawn knew better. He just wanted something to drive that no one would look at.

They sat down and DeShawn told the salesman he had no credit but he had half the price of the car to put down. The salesman asked why he had no job history. DeShawn told him that after he graduated college, he traveled Europe. The salesman filled out the paperwork and told DeShawn that if he missed one payment that he could kiss the money goodbye. DeShawn shook his head that he understood. He grabbed the paperwork and the keys and left.

He decided to drive around the outskirts of town in search of a rental. His plan was working. Two days later, DeShawn received an email from McNeil Enterprises (a company specializing in telecommunications) asking DeShawn to come in for an interview on Monday, the 19^th, at their corporate office in Atlanta. DeShawn was excited! He left out where he was raised and gave no location of where he received his high school diploma. He left out his time spent at Temple University and relied only on transcripts from Wright State. But he guessed that was enough, at least for an interview.

DeShawn sat quietly in the City Barbeque awaiting Omar. Then he appeared and came over and sat across the table.

“It’s been a long time,” Omar said. “I hope all finds you well. Is the food good here? Never ate here.”

DeShawn said, “Too much to do.”

“How can I help?” Omar asked.

“Here is a list of names and documents to set up bank accounts. They are listed by number, as the order of where each will settle and arrive in the country. You only have one month to reach the final city.”

Omar glanced at the list. “This is all over the country, every corner!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, and you must drive. Leave no trail. Pay everything in cash. There must be no way to trace the sites to each other. Leave your cell phone at home. Buy burner phones in case you need assistance.”

“This is a lot,” Omar said.

“I only trust you,” DeShawn told him. “We will meet here every year at this time and date. You will bring news from Ayatollah. I will send him our progress. If you do not come every year or if I don’t show up, the plan has failed.”

“Okay,” Omar told him.

“Well, by the grace of Allah, all goes as planned. Until next year, I guess. Good luck.”

Then they went their separate ways.

DeShawn arrived at McNeil Enterprises precisely at 1:00 P.M. He told the receptionist that he had an interview with Mr. Klaus. She picked up the phone and told DeShawn to go to the 5^th floor, Suite 503. He would be interviewed there.

When DeShawn arrived at the office, the secretary look up and asked, “DeShawn?”

He replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Mr. Klaus is waiting for you right in there.”

DeShawn entered the office and saw a little man with glasses rise from his desk, offering a handshake.

“Please sit,” he said.

DeShawn thanked him.

“DeShawn, I read your college transcript. Quite impressive, I must say. But no work history? Can you fill me in on why?”

“Well, sir,” DeShawn replied, looking him in the eye, “I felt a need to travel and see the world. I felt that if I didn’t fulfill that urge before I started working, I may never get the time.”

“Well,” Mr. Klaus said, “I like what I’m reading. But I feel, as for entry-level, all I can offer is a paid internship. We can revisit your position in three months, after I know you’re capable and adjust accordingly. The position would start out at $80,000 per year, which is quite good for a young man. Would you like to think it over?”

DeShawn said, “No. I will prove my worth to you. I think you have made a generous offer.”

“Well, son, report to the Research Department on the 2^nd floor, room 221. Ask for Mr. Kline. He will get you started. And if you would, take a few minutes with my secretary to get the paperwork started.”

DeShawn rose up and said, “Thank you. You won’t be sorry.”

After leaving, DeShawn decided to pick back up on his search for a secluded rental. He left feeling his plan was really happening. Riding around the country roads, he stopped at a little gas station at the edge of town. He fueled up and went in to pay. Inside, the store was stacked floor to ceiling with what appeared to be every item, from hardware to food. He looked around a bit and then went to pay for his gas.

He asked the elderly lady, “Any places around this area up for rent?”

She looked up and surprisingly said, “Yep. Probably.”

DeShawn eagerly asked her how to find them.

“You need to talk to my husband, Paul. He’s home right now.”

“Can you give me directions?” DeShawn asked.

“Just call him. His number is right here.”

“I don’t carry a phone, ma’am,” DeShawn replied.

“What’s the matter with you, boy? Everyone has a phone!”

“Well, I don’t” was his response.

“Okay,” the lady answered. She told DeShawn where to drive and how to get there. “When you meet Paul, mind your manners. He doesn’t take to your type much but he has been working on it.”

“What type?” DeShawn asked.

The lady just pointed to his skin.

“Oh,” he replied. “I’ll be okay, ma’am.”

The place she sent him to was only five minutes away. As he pulled down the drive, DeShawn could make out a large older man bent under the hood of a pickup truck. He turned around, looking visibly bothered by the company.

“Good afternoon, sir,” DeShawn said. “The lady at the gas station said you may hold some rental property.”

“Nothing you would like,” Paul answered.

“You may be surprised,” DeShawn replied.

“You have cash? I don’t deal with plastic.”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Okay. Hop in the truck. I don’t have time to be mess’n around. When you wanting to move in?” Paul asked.

“Right now, if the place suits me. Probably tomorrow.”

Paul told him, “Ain’t much out here. No cable and the Internet is sketchy at best. Here we are.”

They pulled into a long driveway. As they went around a curve, DeShawn saw an old farmhouse. It was in bad need of a paint job. It had a large yard and two out buildings.

“See what I told you? Not up your alley.”

DeShawn replied, “No, it’s exactly what I was looking for. Can I see inside?”

“I suppose, but I don’t have all day.”

DeShawn went inside the two-story house. It had some furniture but he could see work needed done. But the place was exactly what his plan called for. Privacy.

“I’ll take it,” DeShawn told him. “How much?”

“It’s $1,400 a month, $1,400 deposit. You miss one day, don’t wait for an eviction notice. I’ll get you out.”

“Okay,” DeShawn said.

With that, Paul drove them back. “You can pay your rent at the gas station. The woman you met there is my wife. She will get it to me. About once a month, I’ll drive up to see if you are trashing the place. And believe me! Don’t let that happen!”

“It won’t, sir.”

Paul asked, “Why does a young man like yourself want to live out here? I thought you guys like the conveniences of city life.”

DeShawn merely replied, “I’m not one of those people. Thank you for your time, sir. I’ll bring the money to the gas station tomorrow. Will there be a contract?”

“None of that need with me,” Paul responded. “You just do what I say and I’ll do what I promised.”

As DeShawn was driving away, he thought of how perfect that went, cash transactions and no paperwork, no paper trail. Perfect!

The next day, DeShawn paid the rent as promised and was handed the keys. He drove out to the house to take what little he had and to make a list of what was needed. It was a lot but he did have a few days to settle in before starting work. In the following days, he made huge headway with getting the electric and gas in his name, buying groceries and a few furniture items for the house, especially a bed. He was not sleeping on the bed that was in the house! The place was perfect! No one to watch him performing prayers. No one to watch him assemble items for his plan. He just needed to stay off the radar for the next five years.

His first day at work was unusual. Mr. Kline showed DeShawn the various research labs and the different things they were working on. He asked DeShawn what he was particularly interested in.

DeShawn responded, “Practical applications. I’ve done research but I really like getting in and seeing things work.”

Mr. Kline replied, “You’ll start here. If all goes well, we can see about fieldwork. Why don’t you help Bill? He is researching methods of boosting cell signals.”

“Okay,” DeShawn said. “Let’s get started.”

DeShawn blended well with the group. Over the following months, he fit in well. All was good. Everyone thought he was a good hand.

Back at the farmhouse, one month came up. When he went to pay the rent, the lady looked surprised.

“What?” DeShawn asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” she answered. “Everyone swore you would have been out of there after two weeks!”

“Nope! I’m staying!” DeShawn answered. “Suits me just fine!”

After he left, she couldn’t wait to call Paul. He was amazed. Then he told her that maybe he’d just drive out there to take a peek.

When he drove up to the house, he couldn’t believe it! The house had about half of the front already repainted. All of the grass was cut and all of the weeds around the out buildings were cut down. He could see DeShawn was at work and decided to leave it alone. After all, the place never looked so good! He thought, This boy might work out! He even pays rent on time! He must have been raised by white folks. 

Through the months, DeShawn kept being a creature of habit: work, home, occasionally at the feed store, grocery store and, of course, the hardware store. In the first year, he had received two raises and he upgraded his ratty car to a new Toyota pickup truck (gray in color). He secretly made bombs in the outbuildings. His first task was to make a hidden room in the biggest of the two outbuildings. He also had dug a hidden room under the floor to store his items as he made them. He lined the walls with plastic and Styrofoam. This kept everything dry and especially cool. As he was developing the items, his work on the house and ground continued. Now Paul had seen enough of the transformation of the house and grounds. He would nod to DeShawn when he saw him in passing.

Finally, August 19^th came. It was a Friday this year. So DeShawn asked for the day off. He really needed to meet with Omar.

When 2:00 came, like clockwork Omar strolled into the City Barbeque.

“Let’s have lunch but after, we will go to my place so we can speak in privacy.”

“Okay,” Omar said.

Omar was impressed at the secluded house DeShawn had. “This is nice,” he said.

“It didn’t when I got here. I’m keeping the redneck owner from coming around. He’s getting something for nothing. So he isn’t going to ask questions.”

“Smart,” Omar replied.

“Now to business,” DeShawn continued. “Did you bring the addresses?”

“Right here,” responded Omar. “You really made it difficult to get the bank accounts set up, but we made it happen by just one day before we had to. Also, here is a letter from each, explaining how they’re doing, all unopened, just as you wanted. I only received one phone call asking for additional money. He had trouble finding a job in Butte Montana but it was only once. So I think all is good now.”

“Here is the letter I need sent to the Ayatollah. Don’t mail it until you’re closer to Philadelphia. Mail it from a truck stop. You understand? That’s all I can tell you. I will not need you anymore. We are established. All you do now is wait until the day. It’s May 11, 2027. It is going to be a day to celebrate! A day all our people will remember! Omar, you have been a great friend! Go in peace.”

With that, Omar got in his car and drove off.

The next few years were uneventful, on purpose. DeShawn enjoyed getting letters from all the men and seeing how they were progressing. All seemed to be following true to the discussed plan. All were well blended into the communities and not doing anything to raise suspicion. From what DeShawn could understand by some of the cryptic phrases was that most, if not all, of the needed materials they would use were already gathered. Each of them had stored away much of the money they would need for the final stage. From what DeShawn also gathered from the letters was the explosives were easy for everyone to get and to assemble. The detonators were more problematic. Many ended up buying other electronics to get the parts needed. Burner phones were purchased as timers but none of the phones would be activated until the final stage of the plan was reached.

One day in October 2020, while on his visit to the post office, he tipped his hat to the postal worker behind the counter weighing mail.

When the man looked up, he said hi to DeShawn and asked, “Can I ask you something? Everyone else around here may get a couple of handwritten letters a year. But you get them constantly from all over the States and all the time. That’s bazaar.”

DeShawn calmly told him that it was a pact he had made with his fraternity brothers from college.

“That’s really unique,” the man said. “You guys really kept it up! Good for you! Sorry to bother you. Have a nice day,” he concluded.

“Good day to you too,” DeShawn added. Then he left.

That was the only questioning he received from the locals. Not bad considering the five years he spent in a town of mostly white people.  

DeShawn spent the next two months compiling a list of targets that he would send to each man. With each target, he would give a precise time and date for it to detonate, along with the type of charge. On January 15, 2027, the letters were complete, along with one special letter he would mail later to the Ayatollah. In each letter were instructions in specific regards to targets but each were individual. So if one member drew attention, no information would be known of any other pulling off the plan. Each were told to put in a notice saying they were resigning by the second week of March. They were to keep their places of residence to return. Each of their targets were picked to be within a day’s drive. They were told how and when they would be traveling. The day was March 29^th. From this time on, DeShawn wouldn’t know results until the morning of May 11^th. So after all the letters went out, nothing would be left to do but to wait and hope that all of the time and planning would bring this nation to their knees.