Kamil’s Briefcase
The late model Ford Explorer rode in the slow lane of the Queens Midtown Tunnel at twenty-five miles an hour. The driver, Asim bin Hamad, glanced at his rear view mirror. The tailgater behind him was obviously anxious to get into Manhattan but Asim was not about to speed up or do anything that might cause him to be stopped by a policeman. As other cars passed him on the left, Asim kept the speedometer at twenty-five. The tailgater, he thought, would just have to cross the double line into the fast lane to pass or wait until they emerged from the tunnel.
Sitting next to Asim was Kamil bin Radi who looked like he could have been Asim’s younger brother from Saudi Arabia. He was, unlike Asim, neatly dressed in a conservative business suit with a white shirt and tie. Asim had a neatly trimmed beard while Kamil’s face was smooth since he had shaved his beard off only two hours earlier. Kamil fingered worry beads and stared straight ahead as his lips moved slightly in some silent prayer to Allah. He didn’t seem distracted by the muttered epithets that Asim directed at the tailgater. Such mundane matters were not important to him now. He knew that he must focus only on the work to be done this day in Allah’s name. It was true that his deed would not be as glorious as that done by the martyrs of September 11th, but Allah would be pleased just the same.
When the Ford finally emerged from the tunnel, it was leading a procession of six cars which could now break free to pass in the wide tunnel plaza. As the tailgater passed, he gave Asim a middle finger salute and then cut in front of the Ford, causing Asim to hit the breaks. The tailgater was followed by another car that did pretty much the same thing. Asim yelled some choice Arabic curses at them but the last thing he wanted now was a car accident.
“You see them, Kamil. These infidels are accursed.” said Asim. Small beads of sweat now appeared on Kamil’s brow. He replied, “They will soon feel the wrath of Allah.”
Asim smiled at Kamil. “Of course, you are right.”
Asim maneuvered the car uptown along Third Avenue and then, at forty-ninth Street, made a left and headed west. Asim said, “We’re almost there. What do you do just before you leave the club?”
Kamil answered, “I activate the bomb when everyone else is distracted.”
“Then what?”, asked Asim.
“I make sure the bag is under the table where it cannot be seen. I stand up and act like I am going to the men’s room. Then I slowly walk to the exit and go outside.”
Asim quizzed him some more. “And where do you go?”
Kamil answered “Fifty-first and Lexington. I wait near the southwest corner for you to arrive.”
Asim smiled at Kamil. “Very good. Remember, when you enter the club, you must look happy and relaxed. You must act like one of them. You are a businessman looking for a good time. Allah will bless you because you do it in his name.”
Asim pulled the car over to the curb in a no-parking zone about a block and a half south of Broadway. He left the engine running.
As he grasped Kamil’s hand, he said, “Remember, Kamil. This is your first test as a jihad soldier. You must succeed. May Allah be with you.”
Kamil replied “And with you, Asim.” He got out of the car and opened the back door. There on the back seat was a black leather briefcase. It contained a one third pound chunk of the plastic explosive known as C4 – the same stuff, in the same amount, used to put a big hole in the steel hull of USS Cole, killing seventeen sailors and injuring thirty-nine. The latch on the briefcase had been modified to serve as a timer switch that, when set, would cause the C4 to detonate exactly two minutes later, enough time for the bomber to escape the carnage that would surely follow. To enhance the bomb’s lethal potential, all of the remaining space in the briefcase was filled with ball bearings. When the bomb exploded, they would act like buckshot fired from multiple shotguns in multiple directions at the same time.
Kamil picked up the briefcase and closed the door. It’s weight caused him to tilt slightly to one side as he walked about fifty feet to the entrance of the Pink and Fluffy Lounge. Asim watched as Kamil approached the entrance of the club. A large man standing at the entrance smiled at Kamil and opened the door for him. Kamil entered the crowded club.
Outside, Asim looked at his watch. It was 5:32 P.M., the height of the rush hour. The club would be crowded with businessmen who were there to indulge in what Asim thought of as the evils of voyeurism and alcohol. They surely were infidels and deserved what was about to happen to them.
A loud, brief burst from a siren close by jolted Asim out of his thoughts of violence. Startled, he looked around and realized that a police car had pulled up along side his illegally stopped car. The annoyed cop motioned for Asim to move his car. Asim respectfully nodded, smiled and drove down the street followed by the police car. Now Asim was very nervous. He turned right at the corner hoping the police car would not follow but it did. Asim turned right again at the next corner and was relieved to see that the police did not follow. That was close, he thought. He hoped that the cop did not make a note of his license plate number. He must be more careful in the future, he thought.
Inside the crowded club, Kamil was led to a small table near the stage at one end of the darkened room. He placed the briefcase on the floor under the table between his ankles. Two college age girls, swathed in pink spotlights on the stage and wearing only high heels, thongs and garters stuffed with money, gyrated in rhythm with the loud piped-in music. Men, here and there, leaned over a brass rail around the stage and competed with each other to stuff dollar bills under the girls’ garters or thongs and get a feel in the process. Kamil, at twenty-two years old, had never seen anything like this before. But what he found most disturbing about such decadence was his own immediate fascination with it.
“What would you like,” the waitress said.
She surprised Kamil and, for a moment, he was speechless as he gazed at the ample cleavage practically in his face. He finally remembered and said “Budweiser,” as he had been instructed.
“You got it,” she replied as she wrote it down and quickly went off to another table.
He was sweating heavily now. He looked around and realized that he was completely surrounded by other men who were totally distracted by the girls on stage. He noted that the club had three burly bouncers standing in different places watching the crowd. These were the men he had been warned about. He knew he must not do anything to attract their attention. He would quietly wait for his drink to be delivered, watch the show for a little while and then make his move. He focused on the girls.
As he watched, he realized that he was becoming aroused. They were beautiful and they seemed to enjoy the lurid attention of their audience. He could not take his eyes off them until a man trying to stuff money under one of the girl’s garters got a little too rambunctious and two of the bouncers had to pull him off the stage. He thought that another such incident would present an excellent diversion for him to make his move. He again focused his attention on the girls.
“That’ll be twenty bucks,” the buxom waitress said as she startled Kamil. She put two bottles of Bud and a glass on the table in front of him. “That’ll be twenty bucks, ” she said again.
“But I only ordered one Budweiser,” he said.
She replied, “Two drink minimum, sir. That’s how we do it here. Twenty bucks.”
Kamil was about to protest until he noticed that a bouncer was watching him. He pulled a twenty from his wallet and then, remembering what he was told about tipping, added two singles to the twenty and gave them to her.
“Thanks,” she said as she hurried off.
He glanced at the bouncer who was now, to his relief, looking elsewhere. He felt that he had been cheated but then he remembered that they were about to pay a high price for their decadence. He poured some beer into the glass and took a sip. It tasted awful. How could people drink this stuff, he thought. He felt the briefcase still between his ankles on the floor.
Turning his attention back to the stage, Kamil noticed that a new girl had taken the place of one of the others. He watched in fascination as the replaced girl came off the stage into the audience.
She approached a balding man sitting at a table not far from Kamil. The balding man moved his chair out from the table and the girl sat down on his lap. She then began to gyrate her hips to the beat of the music as the balding man laughed and caressed her hips and thighs. Everyone nearby was enjoying the scene. She did her lap dance for about twenty seconds and then got up and put her foot on the balding man’s table. Her gartered thigh was now directly in front of the balding man’s face. He put a ten dollar bill under the garter as he kissed and caressed her thigh. Kamil was awestruck. Once the money had been placed, she pulled away and looked around. She spotted Kamil and, much to his alarm, she headed towards him.
Kamil felt an urge to get up and run but she was upon him before he could do anything. He realized that everyone was looking and laughing at him and the girl as she pressed her bosom into his face and ran her fingers through his hair. He thought he might faint as she pulled him and his chair out from the table. He could no longer feel the brief case at his ankles as she sat in his lap and began her gyrations. A group of men gathered around Kamil’s table to cheer the couple on. At one point, the table tottered and Kamil’s beer spilled. He remembered that he had to act like an infidel so he put his hands on her thighs. It was the first time he had ever touched a female in such a way – an act that would have had severe consequences in his homeland. He realized that he had become very much aroused and he wondered if she could tell.
Finally, she stood and put her foot on his table and thrust her leg towards him. He fumbled through his pockets and found a five dollar bill. He quickly put it under her garter and, much to his relief, she moved on to another willing victim. Kamil was relieved that the attention of the crowd went with her.
He was shaking as he looked under the table for the brief case. It was gone! Now near panic, Kamil jumped up and started looking all around. He didn’t know what to do. Should he run! Or should he get on his hands and knees and crawl around looking for the brief case? He jumped as someone behind him tapped his shoulder. He turned and faced a large man, who was drunk, holding up the brief case.
The drunk asked, “You looking for this?” Kamil grabbed it.
“Yes. Thank you,” said Kamil.
The drunk answered “No problem,” and then headed towards the bar.
Kamil, still shaking, sat down and placed the briefcase between his ankles once again on the floor. He could not wait any longer now. That was much too close. He looked around. No one seemed to be looking at him. The girls on the stage and the lap dance girl had the full attention of the audience. He was sweating profusely now. He looked at his watch. It was exactly 5:53 P.M. He waited twenty seconds for the digital readout on his watch to say 5:54 exactly, then he reached down and found the latch on the brief case. He turned the latch 180 degrees. He now had two minutes to get out and away from the area. Leaving the briefcase under the table, he stood up and glanced around. Everyone seemed focused on the girls. He began moving toward the exit, threading his way through the crowd. He was almost there when a large hand grabbed his shoulder.
“Hey buddy!” a man said. Kamil turned, ready to fight or run. He faced the same drunk who had found and returned the brief case to him just a minute earlier.
The drunk held up the briefcase. “You forgot this.”
Kamil stared at the briefcase and, for a moment, did not know what to say or do. The man looked puzzled at Kamil’s reaction. Kamil knew he must say something. Finally, he smiled at the man and took the bag.
“Oh, thank you so much. I left it there because I did want to lose my table.” Kamil said as he took the man’s arm and gently steered him back to the table. “Would you mind keeping an eye on it for me until I come back in a couple of minutes. I’ll be happy to buy you a drink when I return,” Kamil asked the man as he placed the briefcase on his chair. Kamil noticed that the bouncer near the exit was watching them. The drunk looked at the briefcase on the chair.
“Sure, kid. Take your time, ” the drunk replied.
Kamil said “Thank you” and headed for the door. The club was more crowded than when he arrived. He glanced at his watch. He had about a minute left. Now he moved a little faster as he made his way through the crowd. As he got to the exit, the bouncer blocked his way. Kamil, alarmed now, looked at the bouncer’s face.
The bouncer, a recently retired New York City cop, thought that Kamil did not look like the typical patron and he seemed suspiciously nervous.
“Everything all right, sir?”, the bouncer asked.
“Oh yes. I just have to get something from my car. I’ll be right back,” Kamil replied.
For a moment that seemed like an eternity to Kamil, the brute just stood there blocking his path. Kamil almost panicked but regained his composure when he realized that becoming a martyr would not be the worst thing that could happen.
Finally, the bouncer stepped out of Kamil’s way. Kamil got outside where the street was busy with traffic and people. He looked at his watch. He had seventeen seconds to get away. As he walked quickly towards the corner, he remembered that he must not run even though the urge to do so was great.
The bouncer watched Kamil through a window as he hurried away. His twenty-one years as a cop had sharpened that sixth sense that allowed him to spot people who were up to something. He thought Kamil might be a pickpocket or some other type of petty criminal. The club seemed to attract those lowlifes who saw opportunities being in crowds of well-heeled businessmen totally distracted by nude women. It was the perfect setup for a petty crook.
Curious now, the bouncer went over to Kamil’s vacant table. He spotted the briefcase on the chair and the drunk watching over it as he balanced himself with one hand on the back of the chair. He touched the briefcase.
“This yours?”, he asked the drunk.
“It belongs to the guy who just left. He’ll be right back.”
“Do you know that guy?”, the bouncer asked.
“Nope. Never saw him before.”
The bouncer looked at the briefcase again. His confident demeanor suddenly changed as he realized what the bag might contain. He now looked like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights.
The drunk noticed the change and now he too became concerned. For a moment, they both just stared at the briefcase. The bouncer quickly opened the bag. In the darkness, it was difficult to see the bag’s contents, except for the timer’s digital countdown display. The luminous red numbers changed every second, “3…2…1….” The bouncer and the drunk only had time enough to look at each other when they realized what was about to occur.
Outside, at the end of the block, Kamil turned the corner and walked about three paces when the explosion happened. There was, of course, a very loud bang, which Kamil had expected. What surprised him, though, was the accompanying sounds of shattering glass, falling debris, car alarms, car crashes, and screaming people. It came without warning and now many people were running in different directions. Kamil thought about his older brother who, two years earlier, had become a martyr as a human bomb in a Haifa bus station. He wondered if his brother’s sacrifice had caused the same total chaos as his own mission did.
As he got closer to his rendezvous with Asim, Kamil’s thoughts turned to the girl who had sat on his lap. He remembered the feel of her smooth skin, her exposed breasts and the smell of her perfumed hair. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He again became aroused as he thought of her. But then Kamil remembered that she was an infidel. She had tried to tempt him, to make him offend Allah as she had done. Now she had felt Allah’s wrath and would never tempt anyone again. But as the lewd thoughts of her would not go away, he became even more aroused; He silently asked Allah for forgiveness.