The Mahdi's Pathogen - Part 2

Sheriff

Chapter 1

SAINT-ZACHARIE AND TORONTO, CANADA

SEPTEMBER 2018

Two weeks after their anthrax attack on New York City, Asad and his team of three Quds Commandos found themselves in a Motel 6, next to Interstate I-95 in Bangor Maine. After fleeing the Croton Point Park campground in New York, they had driven to Boston, Massachusetts, where they disposed of their motorhome and trailer by setting fire to it – after hijacking a large dark Chevy Suburban and killing the owner. From Boston, they proceeded north on Interstate I-95 into Maine, where they planned to cross into the Province of Quebec in Canada. Once they crossed the border into Canada, they would proceed directly to the Bilal Masjid Shia Mosque in Quebec and ask for Imam Mohammad Omar’s assistance. The clear reality of their situation they now struggled with, was how and where to cross the border from the U.S. into Canada…there simply was no clear solution to their dilemma.

Another factor hindering their progress was widespread communication and electrical power failures in New Hampshire, Vermont and Maine – electricity was sporadic even as far north as the Canadian Provinces of Quebec and New Brunswick.

The terrorist cell could only presume state and federal law enforcement authorities had pulled out all the stops and were now intently searching for them. But without detailed descriptions of the four men, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Fortunately, Asad had recognized the nuclear explosion in the atmosphere above New York and acted within minutes – they filled their vehicle’s gas tank with fuel, bought extra food, and filled up spare gas containers with gasoline. They originally had enough to last his team two to three weeks, but their supplies were running out.

He would have to make a decision soon.

Everyday life was becoming impossible…even worse, once everyone came to the stark realization electrical power was most likely lost indefinitely, the supply chains for food, fuel, and medicines were also permanently severed. They soon began to panic and within days they started to hoard every bit of food, water, pharmaceuticals, guns, ammunition and bit of gasoline and camping equipment they could lay their hands on.

If they didn’t have the cash to pay for their supplies, they simply began to loot stores and took what they needed. The circular logic they used as rationale was based on situational ethics and common sense: Everybody knew only rich people owned businesses and they all had insurance; and insurance companies compensated the rich people for their losses – so what was the big deal?

People quickly found there were no universal moral rules or rights during a national emergency when martial law was declared – their simple solution was to take what they needed and to Hell with it.

Most banks, gas stations, convenience stores and grocery chains closed immediately when electrical power ceased. Only businesses and hospitals fortunate enough to have a backup generator that worked, were able to conduct business.

But even those emergency medical services ended as soon as their backup fuel supplies ran out.

Violence and rioting had already broken out in most of the major U.S. cities and Asad knew that it would only be another week or two until civilized society around them would collapse completely.

Asad also recognized they had to attempt to cross the border into Canada very soon or they ran the risk of being discovered and arrested.

++++

The state of Maine covered 35,000 square miles of the most rugged terrain on earth, sparsely populated by only 1.3 million people. It was carpeted everywhere with steep hills, tall mountains, overrun by thousands of lakes and ponds. The remote and rugged forests of the North Maine Woods was a vast wilderness, almost impenetrable due to the heavy stands of trees. Covering over 5,400 square miles, it was an area larger than the great western parks of Yellowstone and Yosemite combined. To make matters worse, the huge forest was covered by a plethora of swamps, seven major torrential rivers and narrow valleys which made travel nearly impossible in places.

The heavily wooded and remote northwestern region of the state contained less than one percent of Maine’s population. Asad knew it was imperative they leave the heavily white-populated Bangor area as soon as possible…their dark complexions stood out like four brown Egyptian camels in a herd of white goats.

Assad knew the solution to their problem was as simple as Occam’s razor - an ancient problem-solving principle attributed to Sir William of Ockham. It simply meant that in order to solve a difficult problem, select the solution that has the fewest assumptions.

Therefore, their best chance of escape lay in crossing through the dense North Maine Woods. It was populated only by sparse small crossroad lumber towns, consisting of a general store, a single gas station, maybe a post office and clusters of mobile homes. Most of the local people barely eked out a living and worked in the huge pulp and paper industry, which was dominated by the International and the Great Northern paper companies.

Asad knew that there were only two Canadian Border Patrol Stations that bordered Maine in the Province of Quebec which were satisfactory for their purposes: the checkpoints located at Saint-Zacharie and Saint-Pamphile.

Both remote border checkpoints appeared to be accessible only through the North Maine Woods by private lumber roads and were reportedly manned by one person.

It seemed to Asad either one could easily be circumvented on any workday evening, or on weekends, when the border crossings were closed with a simple gate and chain.

A simple solution came to Asad quickly: They only needed the proper tools. That’s what heavy bolt cutters and cordless reciprocating saws were made for – to cut through chains and metal barriers in a matter of seconds.

With the proper tools, a border crossing gate would be like child’s play.

Asad conjectured single Canadian border guards would no doubt be concentrating on preventing narcotics, firearms, child pornography, and other illegal substances from entering their country – instead of looking for four foreign infiltrators.

He chose to cross the Canadian Border Patrol Station at Saint-Zacharie, simply because it appeared to be less distance on his map. To get there, his team would have to travel 72 miles north on Interstate I-95 to the small town of Millinocket, then drive west on a private lumber road designated as the Golden Road.

The Golden Road was a 97-mile private road built by the Great Northern Paper Company decades earlier to support its logging operations. It stretched from the former pulp paper mill at Millinocket all the way to the Saint-Zacharie Border Crossing.

The first 32 miles of the road from Millinocket was paved, but according to Asad’s map, the remaining 65 miles was nothing but dirt. It was an old logging road, very remote and infrequently used, except by the few logging trucks, hunters, occasional campers and white water rafters, who depended on it to get to their destinations.

Asad concluded that the Saint-Zacharie border checkpoint had to be Canada’s most porous border crossing and their most likely ticket to sanctuary at the Bilal Masjid Shia Mosque in Quebec.

If this location didn’t work out, they would either have to quickly find an alternate unmanned location on private land, or simply shoot their way through…either way was acceptable to Asad, since there were no other contingencies.

What Asad had no way of knowing was the Saint-Zacharie border checkpoint might appear on its surface to be under-protected by one guard, but there were several different well-manned police offices in the nearby vicinity: The Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) and Sûreté du Québec (the provincial police force for the Canadian province of Quebec), as well as three local police departments in Saint-Prosper, Saint-Georges and Chesterville.

What’s more, the U.S. FBI Headquarters had previously relayed their latest intelligence information about the terrorist groups and anthrax attacks to the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS) – Canada’s premier national intelligence service – who in turn forwarded the information to all of its provincial and local police entities.

Asad had no way of knowing that all of the Canadian Border Patrol checkpoints had been alerted days earlier and to be on the lookout for potential foreign terrorists attempting to enter their country.

Every single border checkpoint was on heightened alert.

In every sense of the word, the four men were on Canada’s radar.

++++

Asad and his three men – Idrisa, Nadim and Walid - rose early in the morning to start their long journey to the remote wilderness Canadian border checkpoint at Saint-Zacharie. The sun slowly inched its way skyward on the eastern horizon, but not enough to melt the frost off of the vehicle’s windshield. The sky was cloudless and the temperature was barely 33 degrees Fahrenheit – it would probably reach no warmer than 50 degrees throughout the day. The first leg of their drive would take them 70 miles north on I-95 to the small paper mill town of Millinocket, the primary point of entry into the North Maine Woods and home to Mt. Katahdin, the highest mountain in Maine.

They loaded their vehicle with all the food, water, weapons, and other supplies necessary for the long trip. Once they started the 97 miles west into the rugged wilderness of the North Maine Woods, there would no longer be any convenience stores or gasoline stations.

People everywhere were starting to finally understand the implications of scarce food and unavailable basic necessities. Signs of desperation, high anxiety and panic were beginning to appear on people’s faces – soon nothing would be available in any of the stores or supermarkets.

They had replaced the Massachusetts license plates on their Chevy Suburban with a set of Maine license plates they took off of a pickup truck in the Motel 6 parking lot several days earlier, so their vehicle would not raise any suspicions.

I’m freezing my ass off! I hate this northern country, ranted Walid as he scraped ice off of the vehicle’s windshield.

How long will it take to get from Bangor to this small town of Millinocket? shot Idrisa.

It should only take us a little over an hour, replied Asad. From there, we’ll take the private road west to the remote Canadian border checkpoint at Saint-Zacharie.

Do you think we’ll get to the border checkpoint before nightfall? Idrisa whined.

It all depends on the road conditions through the wilderness: The first 32 miles are paved, but the remaining 65 miles are nothing but dirt road…it might take us three to four hours, we’ll just have to play it by ear, Asad commented.

The four soon reached the small lumber town of Millinocket without incident, then turned west onto the private paved road, named The Golden Road.

Within a matter of a few minutes, they were well into the heavily wooded wilderness.

At the 32-mile point, the blacktopped road transitioned to dirt with deep furrows. Their progress slowed dramatically because the road was completely washed out in places, or nearly impassable.

Even though the posted speed limit was 45 mph, they could only travel 15-to-25 mph, due to the numerous deep ruts and deteriorated road conditions.

After traveling several hours, they had seen only three old dirty pickup trucks and two gigantic 18-wheeled logging trucks.

They also saw numerous warning signs with pictures of bears and moose on them.

What is that animal on the road sign? It looks like a large camel with horns! commented Walid.

"It is called a ‘moose’, dumbass! And you better avoid them, they are very dangerous – they will stomp you flatter than a piece of Nan-e barbari (Persian flatbread) with their hooves if you get too close to them," declared Asad.

They drove slowly through the remote lumbering towns of Kokadjo and Greenville, both small enough that people stared curiously and were suspicious of any strange vehicle driving through.

The vehicle soon plodded past Moosehead Lake, the largest body of water contained within a northern state east of the Mississippi River, as they slowly and steadily drove the heavily laden vehicle further into the heavily forested wilderness. It was very difficult for Asad and the others to believe that in another month or two, the entire area would only be accessible by snowshoe or snowmobile.

After several more hours the yellow sun started to set and they reached a small tourist attraction called Pittston Farm. The small commercial business open for tourists was the last of the nineteenth century outpost farms once operated by the Great Northern Paper Company.

They spied a small restaurant and decided to stop and eat before finishing the final 20-miles to the Saint-Zacharie border checkpoint.

Upon entering the small restaurant, they soon realized they were the only diners. As a matter of fact, the place was so remote, they were told by the waitress they were the only diners for the entire day. The owners were pleasant, but eyed the dark-complexioned men with strange foreign accents suspiciously.

The four men ordered their food, ate and left as quickly as possible…Asad was very wary of the way the owners kept glancing in their direction.

After the four left the parking lot, the owner of restaurant called his cousin who manned the local border checkpoint and warned him that four suspicious-looking strangers with foreign accents might try to sneak across the border later that evening into Canada.

The Great Northern Woods of Maine was a small place…everybody seemed to know everyone else, or they were related.

++++

It was well past 9:00 p.m., it was a moonless night and pitch black as Asad slowly drove the dark Chevy Suburban up to the border checkpoint, with the headlights extinguished. They were surrounded by heavy woods and tall trees. As anticipated, the small border crossing appeared closed, the lights in the small single white clap-board building were out, and the metal gate arm barrier across the road was chained down blocking their entry into Canada. A large A-frame style sign was placed in front of the gate arm indicating the hours of operation: – This port into Canada is open 6:00 AM-6:00 PM, Monday through Thursday and 6:00 AM to 5:00 PM on Friday.

Asad exited the vehicle and retrieved the large commercial cordless reciprocating saw from the back of the Suburban.

He said to the other three men, Cover me with your weapons – it will only take me a minute or two to cut through the gate arm, then we’ll drive through.

Idrisa, Nadim and Walid exited, positioned themselves around the vehicle for cover and raised their loaded AK-47 assault rifles toward the direction of the white building to protect Asad.

Asad looked around one last time and gave the big OK circle, finger to thumb back to his three men.

He started the gas-powered noisy saw and commenced to cut through the steel metal arm with ease – bright metal sparks cascaded downward onto the road like a waterfall.

Suddenly, all four individuals were illuminated and blinded by several bright high-intensity spotlights. They heard a booming authoritative voice from an electronic megaphone – YOU ARE SURROUNDED BY POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPONS ONTO THE GROUND NOW AND RAISE YOUR HANDS OVER YOUR HEAD – DO IT NOW!

Asad’s expression was suddenly dazed and he was confused.

The three armed commandos reacted instinctively by firing first at the lights in an attempt to extinguish them, but were quickly shot dead by the police in a volley of high-powered rifle and shotgun blasts.

Asad shouted Allahu Akbar! Allah is Great! – as he dropped the reciprocating saw, grabbed his pistol, and began firing rapidly at the bright red flashes of police gunfire in the darkness.

Within a matter of a few seconds, he was also killed by the officers of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, the Canadian Border Services, as well as other support patrolmen from the Saint-Prosper, Saint-Georges and Chesterville Police Departments.

The firefight had lasted less than one minute.

Extremist religions are not a good cause to dedicate oneself to – they can be very bad for one’s health, the RCMP Mountie said to the others, as he shook his head and snickered.

++++

After hastily leaving the Washington D.C. area, Hakim and his three-man team consisting of Bahadur, Shahin, and Farzin had left their motorhome and trailer in a long-term parking lot at the Harrisburg, Pennsylvania airport. They stole an extended cab Dodge Ram pickup truck and had driven north on Interstate I-15 north to Buffalo, New York. Similar to Asad’s team, they also faced a major dilemma: They had no idea where they could cross the border undetected into Canada, then proceed to Toronto and seek safe refuge at the Islamic Shia Ithna-asheri Centre Mosque. Hakim felt certain one of the best chances of entering Canada undetected was along the long border south of Montreal - in particular the 283-mile stretch from the Maine-New Hampshire border to the Thousand Islands Bridge west of Ogdensburg, New York. However, he suspected also this was the area the border patrol would be expecting them to cross: The majority of arrests were made on the backroads of Vermont, New Hampshire, New York and Maine.

He also knew the chances for success for Asad’s team had not been good.

Slipping into Canada by train, or hiding in a car trunk was out of the question because of the large gamma-ray machines that could see through large vehicles or rail cars and detect anyone trying to hide themselves.

Hakim figured his team’s best option centered on simply being able to cross the Niagara River by boat at its narrowest point.

It didn’t take long for Hakim to discover one of the narrowest points was located near the Lewiston–Queenston Bridge, an arched bridge that crossed the Niagara River gorge just south of the Niagara Escarpment – approximately ten miles north of Niagara Falls. It was an international bridge located between the United States and Canada and connected Interstate I-190 in the town of Lewiston, New York, to King’s Highway 405 in the community of Queenston, Ontario.

Although the bridge spanned a length of 1,600 feet, the river below it was merely 300 feet wide. Crossing into Canada on the patrolled bridge was out of the question – they would be caught easily. But crossing the river below it in relatively tame water was entirely feasible, he thought.

To prepare for their crossing and study the situation further, Hakim rented two rooms at a small quaint tourist motel in Lewiston’s historical water district, very near the bridge.

They had an excellent commanding view of the bridge and the river below, and were within walking distance of a boat launch for fishing. They watched the checkpoint operations on the big bridge and the border patrol boats scouting the river very closely for several days with binoculars, before settling on a plan.

Hakim purchased four ten-foot long kayaks at a nearby popular sporting goods store for the crossing. Each polyethylene kayak weighed only 50 pounds, but could support a weight capacity of 325 pounds.

They spray-painted the kayaks flat black.

To monitor the opposite Canadian shoreline during their crossing, he also purchased a passive thermal imaging scope that could identify a man-sized target at over 1,000 yards in the dark.

He also bought each man a black stretchy neoprene wetsuit, with matching hood, gloves and boots, which would keep them warm in temperatures as low as 32 degrees Fahrenheit.

++++

At precisely 3:30 a.m., Hakim, Bahadur, Shahin and Farzin loaded up their stolen Dodge Ram pickup with the four kayaks, along with their pistols and spare clothing, and drove the short distance to the boat launch. The temperature was a cool 37 degrees Fahrenheit. They quickly changed into their wetsuits, loaded their kayaks and silently crossed the river – it took them only ten minutes. They encountered no border patrols and saw no guards on the shoreline; upon landing they hid their boats in the dense brush, changed back into their street clothes and walked carefully into the city of Queenston, Ontario.

Around 4:30 a.m. they came to a 24-hour convenience store and lurked in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to steal a vehicle.

They only had to wait 15 minutes: They knew Americans and Canadians were stupid and lazy when it came to their vehicles.

Look! whispered Hakim to the others, that man left his car engine running and walked into the store – Shahin, go take it and let’s get out of here!

Shahin casually walked over to the parked car, opened the door, hopped in, and simply drove away.

He picked up the other three individuals several hundred feet away and they drove off down the street.

The distance to Toronto was another 83-miles. Carefully driving the posted speed limits, it took the four men nearly two hours on the Queen Elizabeth Way Highway to get to their destination.

The Islamic Shia Ithna-asheri Centre Mosque was located in Crescent Town in the East York district of Toronto. It was a multicultural neighborhood and major arrival point for immigrants into Toronto, most of whom were Pakistanis, Indians, Jamaicans, Bengalis, and many from other Middle Eastern countries. Over three-fourths of the population was foreign-born.

By far, people of the Muslim faith out-numbered all of the other ethnic groups in the district.

The one common denominator though for all of the city’s new arrivals from the Middle Eastern Muslim countries in Crescent Town was: They were mostly poor and very susceptible to the fiery anti-Christian messages emanating from Imam Hussein Hamidavi at the Islamic Shia Ithna-asheri Centre Mosque.

The CSIS had been covertly monitoring the activities of the mosque and the imam, and gathering evidence of threats to Canada’s national security for months. What’s more, no restrictions had been placed on the CSIS as to where or how it could collect security intelligence, or information relating to threats to the security of Canada. Hence, they had numerous agents embedded as members of the mosque and they had it under around-the-clock surveillance.

The CSIS’s primary job was to advise the government of Canada on national security issues and situations that threatened the security of the nation.

The undercover agents had no doubts that Imam Hussein Hamidavi definitely represented a threat to Canada – especially in view of his inflammatory supportive remarks about the anthrax and EMP attacks on America.

The CSIS had tapes of Hamidavi preaching to his membership to pick up weapons for violent jihad, The West was their adversary, he declared solemnly. He preached nothing but hate: Their duty was to establish a world-wide Islamic State - described by vague, theoretical, idealistic platitudes - that would result in a new caliphate. This new world order was to be achieved by any means necessary, including violence and mass murder. Jihad was to be viewed as a sacred struggle whose purpose was to protect and expand the Islamic state.

Imam Hamidavi’s unspoken dream was to convert the whole world to Islam by conquering the U.S., Europe, Israel, India, China and Russia.

He was one of the Toronto Muslim community’s most powerful and prominent figures; he promoted a radical brand of Islam and promoted violence. There were many dots that seemed to connect Hamidavi and his associates to terrorist activity in Canada and throughout the world, past and present.

The CSIS just had to obtain the evidence and prove intent.

It was a major breakthrough to the embedded CSIS agents, when Hakim, Bahadur, Shahin and Farzin arrived for refuge in their stolen vehicle at the Islamic Shia Ithna-asheri Centre Mosque.

The CSIS alarm bells started ringing loudly.

The four individuals had been spotted and photographed by CSIS informants, and their stolen vehicle had been traced quickly to Pennsylvania, in the U.S.

A joint decision was made by the Canadian Prime Minister, the Minister of Public Safety, the Director of the CSIS, the Commissioner of the RCMP and the Toronto Chief of Police – it was time to conduct a police raid on the mosque and make arrests.

Perhaps the era of the Canadian government ignoring militant Muslim fundamentalism and protecting blatant Islamic extremists by political correctness, was finally coming to a head in Canada.

People everywhere were getting tired of hearing hate-mongers being defended by the esoteric dysfunctional terms diversity and multiculturalism.

++++

The Toronto based RCMP Integrated National Security Enforcement Team (INSET) was chosen to oversee and coordinate the forced entry of the mosque. The INSET team was made up of intelligence experts from the RCMP, and other federal partners and agencies such as Canada Border Services Agency (CBSA), Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS), and provincial and municipal police services.

Four tactical five-man teams from the elite paramilitary tactical police arm of the RCMP Emergency Response Team (ERT) were the operators who would actually force their way into the building at multiple entry points, via controlled access. They would be armed with pistols, MP5A3 9mm automatic submachine guns and use Noise-Flash Diversion Devices (NFDD’s) – commonly known as flash-bang grenades.

Due to the large size of the mosque, the ERT teams would use a dynamic entry, which was a tactic where surprise, speed, and domination were the fastest option for clearing large threats. The five man teams would stack up at the four entry points, breach the locked door, use flash-bangs, and enter. They then would clear the mosque by neutralizing all deadly threats against them and use overwhelming amounts of dominating force to take control. It was obvious the loud flash-bang distractions starting at the four entry locations and the resulting confusion, would be one of the keys to their success.

It was 8:00 p.m., it was past sunset, the Salat al-maghrib evening prayer session and the nightly potluck iftar dinner had ended and the mosque was quiet once again.

At the iftar, a few of the congregation members inquired who the imam’s four special guests were and where they were from.

They were told they were men temporarily staying at the mosque until their wives and families could join them.

The inquiries made the imam so nervous, that after the iftar meal he had three of them quickly ushered into one of the storage rooms which had been converted as an overnight room for travelers and guests.

Imam Hussein Hamidavi sat behind the small scuffed and scarred oak desk in his sparsely furnished office. His door was closed as a precaution to prevent prying ears from hearing his sensitive conversation with the Iranian Quds commando, named Hakim.

What do you think about our situation? Is there any way you can find for the four of us to leave Canada for Europe or the Middle East, without the authorities discovering us? Hakim nervously asked the imam.

Yes stated the imam confidently, but it will have to be by ship. Since the EMP attacks on America, all airline flights in and out of North America have been cancelled. You are in luck though – the Port of Toronto links the industrial and agricultural heartland of North America to the rest of the world. In fact, it is one of the shortest water routes to Europe.

How soon could we leave? questioned Hakim.

We can have the arrangements made immediately and deliver you and your men to the main port tomorrow morning and placed on one of the few outgoing ships, the imam replied shrewdly. He wanted no trouble or violence from these men.

He also wanted the four fugitives out of his mosque as soon as possible.

The Saint Lawrence seaway was the main route for exports to overseas markets. Toronto was home to the largest and busiest of the Canadian container port terminals on the Great Lakes…it wouldn’t be the first time he smuggled people and banned materials in or out of Canada.

Imam Hamidavi had his connections.

Are your accommodations satisfactory?" asked the imam.

Yes, they are! I want to thank you…

At that moment, four very loud explosions reverberated like thunder throughout the mosque…BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The imam froze, his face turned white with fear and he exclaimed excitedly, What on earth could those explosions be? Perhaps there is a gas leak in the mosque! We must leave immediately!

Stay where you are and get down behind your desk, Hakim commanded as his eyes flicked around the room with heightened awareness. He was instantly near full-blown panic and continued pointedly, "Those explosions are concussion grenades – I recognize the sound – we are being attacked or invaded," and pulled out his automatic pistol.

He quickly ran and locked the imam’s door and crouched down with him behind his desk.

Soon they could hear loud shouting as verbal commands were being given, then they heard the deafening sounds of heavy rapid automatic gunfire being exchanged. Men continued to shout orders and commands in English, French and Farsi.

Those are my men and some of those gunshots are their automatic weapons! whispered Hakim urgently to the imam. They are battling the police. We have to get out of here or we’ll all die – they’ll kill us all - even you…this is a full-on catastrophe!

The door to the imam’s office suddenly splintered and crashed open, then a man dressed completely in black wearing a black balaclava hood, stood in the doorway holding a 40-pound steel battering ram.

Before Hakim could take aim and shoot him, the man disappeared back into the hallway.

They heard a commanding shout from the hallway, THIS IS THE RCMP: YOU ARE SURROUNDED, DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND PLACE YOUR HANDS ON THE TOP OF YOUR HEAD AND SURRENDER! DO IT NOW – YOU WILL NOT BE TOLD AGAIN!

Five seconds later a loud CLANG was heard as a flashbang grenade was dropped into the center of the doorway. Instinctively, Hakim immediately covered his ears and closed his eyes, however the imam failed to react quickly enough.

A loud thunderous explosion, a brilliant flash of light and choking smoke immediately followed, which shook the two men to their core and temporarily blinded and disoriented the imam.

Hakim knew the police assault team would be standing on each side of the door in the hallway, waiting to conduct their entry into the room within seconds.

He raised his automatic pistol and rapidly fired seven shots to the left side and eight more times to the right side of the doorway – hoping to kill or wound all of the RCMP assault team members.

Hakim suddenly understood his situation…even if he won by killing all of the attackers, it would only be a temporary Pyrrhic victory and tantamount to defeat. He had no other tactical recourse and would have to fight to the death.

Imam Hussein Hamidavi stood crying and sobbing, frantically imploring Hakim to put down his weapon. His eardrums had burst from the flash-bang, he was half-blinded and he could hear and see nothing.

He flailed his arms around frenziedly while holding his cell phone, in an attempt to urge Hakim to surrender.

Hakim gave the imam a sidelong glance, ignoring him and started to reload his automatic pistol when four hooded RCMP assault team members in black barged quickly through the doorway, with their automatic submachine guns raised: They positioned themselves at the low-ready and high-ready positions to confuse the room occupants.

They all fired their weapons on full automatic within a split-second when they saw Hakim holding what appeared to be a small handgun and taking aim.

It took less than three seconds for each of the four RCMP tactical officers to empty the thirty-round magazines of their MP5’s into the hysterical flailing imam and Hakim – killing them both instantly.

The siege of the mosque was over, from start to finish, it had taken less than ten minutes.