For days after the fire at the rug shop where the Professor’s car bombing teams were hidden, he waited for word from Hankins who, he knew from the media coverage, had escaped the fire. He searched the news tirelessly looking for the bit of information that would give him a basis to judge if it was an accidental fire or something more sinister. He had a lot invested here. Even at his level, he had to produce results. Not everyone had bought into his plan to stir up the American “melting pot” to weaken the Americans by turning them against themselves. He had had a good start but the car bombing fiasco hurt.
Tomorrow his white Aryan bikers with KKK hoods would be turned loose on Black communities. Some would be in pickups, the others on motorcycles.
As dedicated and disciplined as most were he couldn’t keep them sitting around waiting for action. Myrtle Beach was a perfect place for bikers to gather at any time of the year. This time his raiders would be armed. If they had to fight to escape that would be good. Being captured at a road block along Route 17 between Murrells Inlet and Mount Pleasant was a real possibility, if the police were alerted to use their radios and block a few roads. Some of his soldiers would die, if not this time, certainly on the next attack. If captured, there was not much they could tell under interrogation to endanger him. They were all good Jihadists. Capturing them would not be easy.
The attack was scheduled for 8:30 PM. By then it would have been dark for nearly three hours. No one will confuse the attackers’ organization. They will be wearing Aryan emblems on their jackets, KKK hoods and dropping racist Aryan pamphlets. Two pickup trucks and four bikes in all. Trucks north of Charleston and bikes to the South. Columbia and Savannah were the designated recovery points. The raiders had picked, studied their own targets and done drive-bys. No one left their ride. The passengers throw gasoline and soap cocktails. Both drivers and passengers shoot targets of opportunity. Speed and surprise were a must.
Secure in his upscale motel suite, the Professor was intently watching the TV news on two separate channels. He also had a local news station on the radio. 8:30 passed, 8:45 and still nothing. At 8:50, a TV news flash stated they had reports of burning churches and gunfire along Route 17 north of Mount Pleasant. Good, the party had started.
By ten o’clock it looked as if the attacks exceeded his best estimate. Six churches were badly burned. The fire fighters were stretched very thinly on the burning route. No one had died in the fire, but ten people were killed by small arms fire and 25 more wounded. The content of the Aryan pamphlets, dropped by the attackers, was displayed on the news channels and talking heads were running to the ramparts to explain what all this meant.
The police engaged two of the motorcycles in a running gunfight north of Mount Pleasant. Two attackers were killed in the fight. Three police officers were in critical condition in local hospitals. A wide manhunt was underway for two of the attackers who escaped on foot after their pickup crashed. The attackers along Route 17 south of Charleston seem to have escaped. The number of attackers, all reported to be white males, is uncertain at this time and the police are asking the public to call in on the displayed hotline with any eye witness reports of the attacks.
The Professor smiled to himself and went to bed. Tomorrow would be a busy day. By morning the authorities should have more complete reports. Two days later, school buses between Georgetown and Mount Pleasant would be the targets. These daylight attacks will strike terror into every parent with a kid in school. He gave some thought to moving up the attack of school buses but decided to stick with his first plan.