As the room erupted in gunfire, Henry Yeong and his men burst in, firing indiscriminately, spraying shots throughout the confined quarters, rounds striking in every direction — including the walls, floor, and ceiling.
Candy and Jenny were both hit but refused to go down. They continued firing, shooting into the void, exchanging shots with Yeong’s men.
Yeong hesitated too long when he realized it was Candy shooting at him. His mind failed to register the peril. Before he could grasp the full extent of the situation he was hit multiple times, Candy having little concern with his authority or their perceived friendship.
Jake didn’t join the battle. Instead, using his body to shield Gracie from the errant rounds flying around the room, Jake shuffled the child along the floor toward the adjoining room. The shooters, more concerned with firing at each other, ignored Jake and the little girl. Though it seemed like a lifetime, and for some it was, it really took just a few seconds for Jake to low-crawl out of the carnage, dragging Gracie through the doorway to relative safety in the adjoining room.
Mohammed continued firing, hoping a round would find its mark. When he emptied his first magazine, he quickly slammed in a second, releasing the slide and chambering a new round, to continue the battle.
Trey heard the first gunshots through the transmitter taped to Jake’s leg, two floors above. He glanced at his watch — noted that it was two minutes before eight — and pulled the fire alarm, activating the sprinkler system throughout the hotel and automatically alerting the fire and police departments. Then Trey and Brian raced upstairs into the madness.
As they ran to the sound of the gunfire, high-pressure water from the sprinkler system sprayed in their faces, nearly blinding them. They could hear shots mixed with screams and moans, some trailing off into mere whimpers. Lives were being wasted and the two agents could only hope Jake and the kidnap victims weren’t part of the bloodbath.
Jake pushed Gracie beneath the bed in their new refuge and crawled toward the open doorway, his Glock at a suppressed firing position. He did a quick peek around the door frame and saw Kareem was down, as were Rostam, Yeong, and two of Yeong’s men. The weakening cries of Jenny and Candy flooded the room; both were on the floor, their weapons as empty as their lives.
Mohammed got off a shot just after Jake retreated behind the door. The door frame splintered, the round mere inches from finding its mark. Jake waited a prolonged three count, then took a second look and fired one shot just as Mohammed rose from behind the arm of the couch. The economy of a well-placed round was evident. Jake’s aim was perfect. The terrorist cell leader’s head pitched backward. He collapsed, his skull split open by the slug, his brains leaking onto the worn carpet. By the time he hit the floor he had already joined the others in the dead pool.
One of Yeong’s men retreated down the hallway. He was immediately met by Trey and Brian coming up the stairs.
A ragged chorus of “Freeze, FBI!” rang out but the gunman continued, raising his weapon to engage the two agents.
Brian, no stranger to urban combat, dropped to one knee and fired a three-round burst; each one on target. Yeong’s henchman was dead before he hit the floor, without getting off a shot at the approaching agents.
“Trey, Brian, they’re all down in here!” shouted Jake, knowing it’s not over until the enemy is neutralized.
“The hallway’s clear!” hollered Trey.
The entire violent confrontation had taken less than two minutes.
Trey and Brian ran into the room, weapons at the ready. Seeing only bodies, Trey shouted, “Jake, we’re in! Jake!”
“Roger, coming in,” Jake responded from the adjoining room. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you; my ears are still ringing.”
The three agents immediately began collecting weapons before administering any aid. Jenny, the only one of the assailants left alive, quickly drew her last breath and joined Candy, Kareem, Mohammed, Rostam, Yeong, and his three associates.
With Trey and Brian securing the room, Jake ran back to Gracie, who was sobbing, scared, and confused. He grabbed her in his arms and held her tight, trying to comfort another innocent victim of evil.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Five LAPD units, three fire trucks, and two ambulances were at the hotel less than seven minutes after Trey pulled the alarm. A fireman shut off the sprinkler system while Trey and Brian provided an outline of what transpired in the room to an incredulous LAPD detective. Jake remained in the adjoining bedroom with Gracie, confident that there soon would be plenty of FBI agents of much higher pay grade on-scene to fill in the details.
As soon as Gracie dozed off, Jake called Park. “Your granddaughter’s safe but your daughter’s dead. She betrayed the family.”
“How did Jenny die?”
“Yeong and a bunch of his goons showed up. All hell broke loose. I’ll explain the rest when I get to your house. I got out the fire escape with Gracie and will come to you as soon as I can get to my car.”
“What about the money?”
“Some of the bills were destroyed when the sprinkler system went off, but most of it is still hidden in the basement of the hotel. We can come back later and retrieve it after the cops and firemen leave.”
Park replied with a simple “Thank you, Jake.”
As the crime-scene technicians began their gruesome work, Jake tapped Brian on the shoulder and motioned for him to come into the room where the child was sleeping. In a voice just above a whisper he explained what had happened to Gabe. Jake could see the mist forming in the new agent’s eyes. Swallowing hard to suppress the emotions building in him, Jake grabbed the new agent, gave him a hug, and whispered, “Semper Fi.”
Twenty-five minutes after the explosive firefight, ASAC Hafner, the CIA spook Wilson, and Supervisor Rachel Chang arrived on the scene wearing FBI raid jackets. Hafner elbowed his way past the police and demanded to speak to Jake in the adjoining room.
Jake was sitting on the bed; the little girl, beside him, was asleep. Brian Carter was in a chair next to the window reflecting on what he had just experienced and on the loss of a friend.
Hafner was visibly angry. But before he could raise his voice, Jake put a finger to his lips and pointed to the sleeping child.
Instead of shouting, Hafner hissed, “You were supposed to have pulled out of this assignment. Headquarters ordered it. I want to know when you knew about the Supernotes. Why wasn’t I called? I’m your ASAC. I should have been notified immediately about this operation. I saw no ops order and I certainly didn’t approve of any of this.” Hafner waved his arm toward the slaughter in the next room and the hallway.
Though neither man knew it at the time, it would take days of “trajectory analysis” and countless hours of forensic work in the FBI lab to eventually determine which weapons fired which rounds. Based on a 3-D analysis of the mayhem, it was determined that several of the deceased had been struck by multiple weapons. Only one, Mohammed, had been hit just once. Jake, hoping to mitigate some of the ASAC’s wrath, said, “If it makes any difference, I only fired one round.”
Hafner simply glared, so Jake continued in a whisper. “It all came up suddenly. It was a very fast-moving operation. I didn’t have time to put it on paper. I thought I had until the end of the day.”
“That’s no excuse. I should have been notified. I’m the ASAC. It’s my career on the line. I’m going to ask you again and maybe I should speak slowly so you’ll understand.… Why were you still in this operation and when did you know they were Supernotes?”