The Night-Comer

By Tony Zeoli

The entrance to hell is guarded by nineteen satanic demons known as the Al-Zabaniyya. On 9/11/2001, there were nineteen terrorist hijackers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 5, 2005
• ISBN: 9781483550138

Book preview

Introduction

The Night-Comer is the story about the intensive international investigation by both US and Israeli intelligence networks into the very critical and extremely confidential information that a united fundamentalist Islamic terrorist group had acquired a nuclear bomb and has delivered it to the New York Metropolitan area.

What if all the major terrorist groups of the world united together against the United States, the way nations of the world unite against them? Al-Qaeda, Hizbollah, Islamic Jihad, Hamas, Aum Shinrikyo, the PKK, the Terrorist Group, Harakat-ul-Ansar, Jaish-e-Muhammad — all of them?

What if insurgents once loyal to Saddam Hussein and his regime were to put up four hundred million dollars to be disbursed amongst those terrorist groups for the sole purpose of finding a way to smuggle this nuclear bomb into the United States and then detonate it over midtown Manhattan?

Although The Night-Comer is a work of fiction, the aspects to the possibility of it actually coming to pass are so horribly frightening that a combined task force of federal, state, and local law enforcement agencies are already preparing for its eventual reality.

On September 11, 2001, the United States found itself at war with a new type of enemy. A faceless coward who doesn’t wear a uniform, doesn’t limit its attack to our military, and doesn’t abide by any defined terms of engagement. Be assured that this new enemy wants to destroy our American way of life, obliterate our guarantee of liberty, and completely devastate our pursuit of happiness. They will stop at nothing to accomplish these horrific goals; and every one of us, including our children, are their prey.

Their targets aren’t garrisons of Marines, military bases, or naval ships. Instead they target our cities, our office buildings, and our neighborhoods. But along with this new enemy comes a new sustained commitment in protecting us as well. There is a force that is watching over us and standing at our side ready to pounce on this faceless coward.

When all we had to be concerned about was street violence and traditional organized crime, it was acceptable to solely rely on our local police departments to help keep us safe in and around New York — but this simply isn’t true any longer.

As things have certainly changed and all New Yorkers, as well as those in the entire metropolitan area, are looking to the one department that has become the Keeper of the Gateway to New York and our entire nation. A department that is our first line of defense against terrorism at America’s very own front door - the Port Authority Police Department.

With nearly two thousand strong and not bound by state or county lines, this unique department will stop them cold whether they fly, drive, rail, or sail. And if they can’t stop them at our door, they’ll hunt them down and capture them regardless of wherever they try to hide.

With fifteen centralized Command Centers throughout New York and New Jersey and with international offices in the UK, Belgium, Korea, Hong Kong, Japan, and Singapore, the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey literally has it’s hand on the pulse of the world and attached to that hand is its very mighty arm, the PAPD.

Protecting not only the region’s major airports, marine terminals, interstate railroads, bus terminals, interstate river crossings, and industrial parks, but also the largest container port in the world — one of the primary focal points of all law enforcement agencies as to the most probable way a Weapon of Mass Destruction (WMD) will eventually be sent into the US by this new faceless enemy.

This specialized department with its own Patrol, Investigative, and Emergency Services Divisions is constantly on the hunt for terrorists and possible acts of terrorism in the New York Metropolitan area. It is forever standing guard as the Archangels to the Gateway of New York and America’s front door.

The PAPD has always been singled out as one of our nations most respected and best trained police departments. But after the attacks on 9/11, this recognition has grown enormously. On that dreadful day members of the PAPD were the first to actually respond to the terrorist attack. As soon as the first plane struck the North Tower at 8:46 a.m., members of the PAPD immediately began to evacuate the complex, even before the arrival of any other department.

Those heroic efforts were responsible for participating in the largest rescue effort in the history of the world, saving over twenty-five thousand lives. But in doing so, the PAPD also suffered the largest single loss of life of any police department in history. On September 11, 2001, thirty-seven members of the PAPD lost their lives.

The PAPD was the first department to respond to the attack and the last department to leave the World Trade Center complex. After almost nine grueling months the search for any additional remains of the victims of that horrific day was completed. On Thursday, May 30, 2002, at exactly 10:29 a.m. — the exact time the second tower collapsed — the official search and recovery operation at Ground Zero came to an end.

In a solemn ceremony witnessed by the entire world members of the PAPD’s elite Special Operations and Emergency Services Units were given the honor of being the last recovery units to march out of that hallowed ground, signifying the end of the search. A total of 2,753 souls were lost on that horrible day.

First in and last out; truly members of the PAPD were doing God’s own work.

1

This isn’t the City of New York, it just can’t be. It’s like nothing we ever saw before.

It’s the end of all we once knew, the way we once lived, those things we always cherished and just took for granted. Truly this must be the end of the world because we are standing at the gateway to hell; this is Ground Zero, the most hallowed and most dreadful place on earth.

Piles of crumpled concrete and steel have forged a new landscape. Instead of the twin towers, which once magnificently stood on this very site, a man made mountain range of death and despair has now taken its place. Three billion tons of debris now represents the nine-second plunge of what once was the very symbol of our American way of life.

The air is blackened with the rising fires from hell, while twisted and mangled remnants of great achievements are all that’s left to be seen and the smell of death is everywhere.

There are almost twenty-eight hundred souls that need to be found and brought home so they can be honored and can be remembered. We are now surrounded by the few, the brave, the very special — those that have been chosen by destiny to do the work that is God’s very own.

A Port Authority Police Department Search, Rescue and Recovery Team is standing in the midst of this entire nightmare. Some of the team members are on their knees digging with small hand tools and in some cases clawing at the crumbled cement and twisted steel with their very hands and fingers. They don’t want to risk any further injury to anyone that might still be trapped alive by using heavy equipment that can possibly jar the piles of debris even more.

But this team isn’t ready to admit to themselves that there isn’t anyone left, there isn’t anyone else still alive and that there just isn’t anyone else left for them to save.

Not since September 12, the day after the day when time stood still, did anyone else come out alive. On that day only five survivors, two being their very own, would be given another chance to say that God has decided to send them back for whatever his reason. But today and for many weeks to come, this team isn’t ready to think about that.

A PAPD detective, his face obscured with filth and grime, overturns a crumpled piece of what once used to be a window section of an American Airlines Boeing 767.

There’s someone here. He yells out to his partners.

The rest of the team stops their arduous digging and rush over to help him unearth this nameless soul he has just found.

Someone has been found, but not alive. It appears to be a man standing vertically in a tight grave of crushed aircraft wreckage and huge chunks of cement. The only thing they can actually make out is his head and neck.

It appears that he must have been running when a combination of the massive tower and the huge jetliner came crashing down on top of him. It looks as though he was standing straight up when he was killed and buried by the very debris that took his life. But now, he’s been discovered.

The team circles around the remains of this poor unfortunate soul of the attack and they begin digging with their hands and small tools, trying to unearth the rest of his body.

The minutes turn quickly into an hour and yet they still can’t seem to find the rest of him. They can’t find his chest, they can’t find his arms and they can’t find his legs. Something is definitely wrong.

The team leader, a PAPD Lieutenant tells his men to stop digging for the moment and he climbs down into the grave site. He kneels directly over the head of this trapped victim and with great precision he slowly tries to maneuver the man’s head and neck in an attempt to free him.

But after several painstaking minutes it becomes apparent to the lieutenant and the rest of the team that this poor soul wasn’t buried alive while he was running to escape the horrors that where taking place around him on that faithful morning. Nor was he buried alive while he was standing erect. The lieutenant stands gently holding in his outstretched arms all that is left of a mother’s son, a little girl’s daddy, a wife’s closest friend — the man’s head and neck.

What could have easily been a prop for a Hollywood horror film, or a mannequin in a wig shop was the only lasting proof on earth that this was once a living, breathing human being. Somewhere in this sixteen-acre debris field, this unfortunate son was tragically decapitated and the rest of him was for now and probably forever, nowhere to be found.

Maybe the rest of his body was incinerated in the three thousand-plus degree inferno that engulfed the towers after the planes struck. Or maybe it was pulverized in the giant shredder that was created as the mammoth structure collapsed to the earth below. Nevertheless, it was gone.

His precious remains were carefully placed inside a body bag and the lieutenant assigned two of his men to escort them to a makeshift temporary morgue. A Police Chaplain would say a prayer over him, while a staff of well-intentioned personnel from the Medical Examiners Office would safeguard his remains until transportation to the city morgue could be arranged and an attempt at identification through dental records or DNA could be made.

Back at the site the PAPD recovery team has gone back to work. They’re back on their knees digging with their hands and small tools, the night is still young and there are so many more souls that need to be found and brought home.

Eighteen Months Later

In a small outdoor cafe in the remote city of Hyderabad in southern Pakistan, five Mid-Eastern men are engaged in a very intense conversation. Three are much younger and are of Pashtun descent, while the other two are much older and definitely Iraqi. All five are acting very furtive, paying attention to everyone around them. They are seated around a small wooden table badly worn by the extreme heat.

It’s apparent by the conversation that some sort of negotiation is taking place. It’s also very apparent that one of the three young Pashtuns is adamantly opposed to the financial proposal being presented by the Iraqi’s.

His two partners duly note his objections, as an argument ensues between the three of them. He keeps refusing to comply with whatever the financial terms seem to be and on several occasions he stands up as if to leave but is quickly prompted to sit by the junior of the two Iraqi’s, who keeps reaching up and grabbing the young man’s arm.

Finally, the senior Iraqi puts an end to the heated argument. He calmly stands up and doubles his original offer, four hundred million American dollars.

This clearly puts an end to the Pashtun bickering and all five men are now in apparent agreement to the preliminary terms of this still unknown agreement.

Several thousand miles away in the Tokyo office of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, David Chang, Director of Japanese Operations for the Authority is engaged in his own intense conversation. A very concerned gentleman by the name of Philip Li is relating to Chang information that he received from a cousin in Yokohama.

According to the information there’s been a great deal of activity involving members of the Aum Shinrikyo. This is the Japanese terrorist cult responsible for the 1995 sarin nerve gas attack on the Tokyo subway system, which killed twelve and injured over six thousand. Although the information is very sparse, it did involve the apparent smuggling of some sort of unknown lethal substance from Japan to the United States.

Chang thanked Philip Li for the information and assured him that it would be passed along to investigators in the United States immediately. Chang further advised Mr.. Li to keep him informed of any additional information that should arise concerning the Aum Shinrikyo.

Back in New York at the Port Authority Bus Terminal, one of the fifteen Command and Control Centers operated by the PAPD in the New York metropolitan area, the Commanding Officer, Inspector Francis X. Cirino is in his office engaged in a phone conversation with a Deputy Chief from PAPD headquarters. Cirino, a take charge no nonsense Al Pacino clone, is discussing the information received by Mr. Chang from the Tokyo office.

Cirino assures the Chief that he’ll have a couple of his men investigate it immediately and hangs up. He then quickly dials a number and summons the voice on the other end of the phone to come into his office.

Hey Mike, grab Cipiletti. I need to see the two of you right away.

Within minutes, two broad shoulder detectives appear at his door. Mike Predmore, a twenty-five-year-plus square jawed vet who has the intuitive abilities of a mythical clairvoyant and his partner Dan Cipiletti, a good looking late thirtyish sharp dresser who could have easily been a contestant on a reality dating show. He also possesses the same dogged persistence of an