by Cherry Laska
After seeing the grime and stains that covered the place, Alejandro was glad he’d only be there for a couple of nights. He paced off the rooms and walked around the furniture. He’d chosen the recliner over the bed for a few hours of rest. It was going to be a full day.
When his phone vibrated, he put in his earwig.
Mark gave the word, “You’re a go.”
Alejandro slipped out of his dark apartment. He moved silently up one flight of stairs and down the hallway. Long ago he’d learned to walk through hostile jungles without making a sound. Moving silently in an apartment building did not present any problems for him.
Zircone’s door was still covered by crime scene tape. With a sharp blade, Alejandro sliced the tape at the seam of the door and manipulated the lock. He slipped in, settled on the other side of the door, and took in the layout. It was exactly the same as his apartment with one major difference that was made immediately apparent by the smell. This place was clean. It wasn’t just orderly without a scrap of clutter. It had been doused and scrubbed with strong chemicals. The place was absolutely sterile. They had expected Zircone to cover his tracks, but Alejandro was surprised the place had been processed to this extent. He let out a small sigh of disappointment and set out to process the apartment anyway.
28
THE RICH AROMA GENTLY ROUSED Jessica from a deep sleep. She was so comfortable. The sheets were soft, and her pillow was just right. In a blissful half asleep state with her eyes closed, she snuggled close to the warmth of the man sharing her bed. She drifted back to sleep.
The enticing coffee became too much to resist, bringing her out of her sleepy haze. She froze, realizing where she was and that it was her friend Joe she happily had her body pressed up against. She didn’t know what to think about this, but she was so warm and comfortable she didn’t care enough to move.
Twenty minutes later, she carefully slid out from under the covers and stiffly stumbled to the bathroom, then out to the main room where a tray with pastries and coffee awaited. She poured herself a cup and took it back with her to the bedroom to sit in the Queen Anne chair that was positioned to look out the window. Jessica cherished the quiet morning hours before most people were up. She sipped the delicious dark roast and reviewed the to-do list she had mentally made before going to sleep. It was something she always did and thought it would be even more important now to help her stay organized while balancing both her homemaker world and her international CIA operative world.
Jessica was reading the file Marshall had sent her on the agency’s advances in tech when she heard the rustle of the covers. She looked over her shoulder and saw Joe was starting to stir. She smiled seeing the top of his head sticking out from under the covers. His dark, wavy hair was in such contrast to the white, fluffy bedding. She decided it was time to get herself up and moving. She went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and found herself leaning closer to the mirror to examine the tiny lines on her face. She groaned, did a quick routine of creams to battle against the effects of Father Time and put her hair in a ponytail. She threw on yoga pants and was pulling on a t-shirt when she heard a knock. “Just a—une minute, s’il vous plaît.”
Jessica went to the door and checked the peephole. Mark was standing there grinning and holding the complimentary paper. She opened the door to let him in. She turned around to see Joe dressed in jeans and a t-shirt positioned in an armchair in the sitting area with a cup of coffee in his hand and not a hair out of place. Amused and impressed, she wondered how he had done that so fast without making a sound.
“Morning.Wanted to update y’all before we go to the mosque.”
Mark took a seat on the sofa and Jessica sat next to him. Joe poured Mark a black coffee and asked if she wanted a refill.
“Please.”
He handed her a refill that he’d prepared perfectly. He knew she liked it sweet with a touch of milk.
While Mark talked, Joe opened his iPad and scrolled through the photos that Marshall had taken to document what he’d found. Mark explained what they were looking at in each picture. “As you can see his place was a complete mess.” Joe’s eyebrows rose in bewilderment at the close-up of a cigar butt in the bathroom medicine cabinet. “Can’t figure why it’d be there, but the cigar, the leftovers, and Moreau having been at Montecristos—it’s looking like there’s a possible Cuban connection.”
“Have you checked out Montecristos?” Joe asked.
“It’s more of a club with food than a restaurant. We’re planning on going there tonight. Alejandro came up empty in Zircone’s apartment. The place had been white-washed.”
“If he wiped down his place before the meet, we know the guy’s either smart enough to plan for contingencies, or he was moving on to the next phase of his plan,” Joe said.
Jessica helped herself to a flakey croissant and noticed Mark inadvertently lick his lips. She gestured questioningly. “I’d love one,” he answered. She handed him a plate with two. He caught sight of her ring and whistled. “Look at that beaut.”
“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” she said, wiggling her finger. The diamond caught the morning sun and threw countless colored prisms of light around the room.
Mark bit into the croissant, chewed some, and swallowed. “Mmm. These are sinful. How’d y’alls’ night go?” he asked, taking a second bite.
“Everything went as planned. We’re all set with the Lefèvres,” Jessica said.
While she was filling him in on all the details, Jessica’s phone rang.
Mark looked at his watch and asked with concern, “It’s two in the morning East Coast time. Who’d be calling smack dab in the middle of the night?”
The late hour was alarming. Jessica was scared something had happened to the kids. She hurried to the desk where she had left her phone charging. “Anderson, it’s two a.m. Is everything okay?”
“I know what time it is. I’m up working. Someone has to pay for your little shopping-spa girl trips.”
“The late call scared me, that’s all.”
“I needed to touch base with you about the company’s black-tie gala. You do remember we’re hosting that on April twenty-ninth, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “I’ve decided Laura will be in charge of it.”
“I don’t mind if you have your special employee handle the gala,” Jessica said, intentionally not keeping all of the disdain out of her voice. “Although, the event is in just ten days, so most of the planning is already done. Do you really need to put her name on this? Remember, you’re the one who insisted I do this,” she pushed back, trying to use a more civil tone.
“I’m making the change, and you’ll need to help her out,” he snapped. “It’s what’s best for business. That’s how I want it, and furthermore, I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
“Enough. Fine. I’ll take care—”
“Just do what I said. Get it done,” he said venomously.
This made Jessica’s blood boil. She’d heard Anderson rudely tell so many people to “get it done.” It was his way of being condescending and demanding while effectively putting an end to the discussion. She couldn’t stand it when he spoke that way to people. She heard three quick beeps followed by silence telling her he’d hung up. With her soon-to-be ex, there weren’t ever any goodbyes. When he had what needed, he disconnected the call or just stopped texting. She put the phone down.
Furious and frustrated, her mind went to just wanting time to fast forward so she could be done with Anderson. While she was thinking, she’d crossed the room to get ready for the day. She pulled out her Browning, looked it over, ejected the thirteen round mag, and checked the weapon before reinserting the mag and racking it to chamber a round so it would be ready to go. She put it in the leg holster before turning to see Mark and Joe watching her. She realized what it must look like by the look on their faces. She laughed a little awkwardly. “I like how you’re thinking, but unfortunately the jerk isn’t even on this continent.”
MARK BROUGHT THE MERCEDES to a stop at the light and watched as Jessica wrapped her head in a scarf. The blackout windows were so dark she didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing her get ready. Her face was still visible, but she was practically unrecognizable. Her hair was covered by a hijab and she was wearing dark brown contacts. The ridiculously loose dress made out of a heavy material covered every inch of her except her hands. Mark thought it was crazy to dress women in tents, hiding their beauty.
“How do I look?”
“I couldn’t tell if I tried,” he said. “So, I guess that means exactly like you’re supposed to.”
“Seriously, I don’t know how anybody can stand this, yet alone a burka, niqab, or anything else. I’m so hot under here, I’m sweating already.” Jessica felt claustrophobic just thinking about her face being covered by veils. She tried to respect an individual’s right to worship in any manner he or she chose, but despite having a good understanding of the Muslim religion and their explanations, she still found it difficult to see hiding women’s figures, head coverings, and segregation as anything other than oppression.
“I agree, but I don’t think those women are riding around in a car with the A/C cranking,” he said, rubbing his hand over his arm. Jessica saw he was covered in goose bumps.
“Ah, sorry, it’s so cold. Really, that’s so nice of you, but you can turn up the temp.”
“Oh no, ma’am. It’s not just that we’re a team, but my parents taught me to always be a gentleman.” He gave her a smile and slowly accelerated when the light turned green. “We’re almost to the lot. I’ll be listening from there, but I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to hear with that scarf covering your earwig. Bang on the thing if you have any trouble.”
“I’ll be all right. Besides, one good thing about wearing all this material is that it definitely conceals what I’m carrying. I could hide an arsenal under here.”
“As long as you can get to your weapons when you need them.” Mark signaled, turned into the lot and found an open space. She got out, walked around the corner and up one block to the mosque entrance. Along the way she tested the coms and heard Mark’s acknowledgment.
Jessica admired the beauty of the carved wood door as she passed through the grand opening that led to a large open-air patio. She followed the women, nodding at anyone who glanced her way, as they split off from the men and entered a side door, continued down a short hallway, and gathered in an interior room with racks lining the walls. Taking her time, she slowly removed her shoes and placed them in an open space. She lagged behind, letting the next wave of women catch up to her. She continued to quietly greet anyone she encountered. The flow of traffic moved to the next room, which was basically a long tub surrounded by wooden benches. Jessica took a seat at one of the many washing stations and began performing the required purification ritual known as ablution. She paced herself to finish with her feet at the same time as a group of younger women, hoping they’d be less pious and more apt to talk. She stayed close on their tail and took a spot in the musalla near them. Jessica looked at them and caught the eye of the young woman next to her.
“Al-salaamu alaykum,” Jessica said in a quiet voice.
“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam.”
“Parlez-vous anglais?” Jessica asked at the same low volume. She hoped the elder women next to them wouldn’t see they were talking and step in to stop it.
“Oui, et anglais … a little. Are you American?”
“I’ve lived in America for the past ten years with my parents, but I’m Canadian.” Jessica smiled and added, “I just moved here. Oh, forgive me. My name is Salma.”
“Welcome, Salma. I’m Claudette.” The woman next to Claudette turned to her and whispered something in her ear. By the resemblance, Jessica concluded she was Claudette’s sister. An older woman came close and sat down between them, forcing Claudette to move over. Not wanting to push too hard, Jessica kept quiet. The prayers began and in her peripheral vision she could see Claudette watching her. Many other women were keeping an eye on Jessica too, but it seemed as if there was more warmth and curiosity in Claudette’s glances than in the harsh glares of the others.
The prayers were nearly finished. Jessica decided she’d play up the newcomer angle looking for a friend. She’d talk to Claudette; maybe even get her to go for tea. When everyone stood, Jessica’s attempt to engage her target was thwarted by several scowling older ladies. They shielded the young woman and ushered her away to a side room.
Jessica timed straightening her long dress and retrieving her shoes in order to follow close behind a group of women through a different door into what appeared to be a meeting room containing a long table and chairs. On one wall there were clipboards hanging next to a large bulletin board. Jessica went to the wall and began reading. The clipboards held petitions to repeal the 2004 ban on hijabs in schools and government buildings and the more recent 2011 widespread ban on covering their faces in public. She grabbled the pen chained to the clipboard and signed her alias. Jessica could feel the women’s eyes following her, the stranger, as she moved along the bulletin board. The board was mostly covered by articles citing cases of discrimination against Muslims and a call for action to protect their beliefs. There was one article that caught her eye. She read about a missing man and woman. The mosque was collecting things for the couple’s three-year-old boy who had been found alone in the apartment by a neighbor, a mosque member, who had smelled smoke, gone to help, and discovered the crying toddler.
Jessica got some tea and took a seat. She tried to join a conversation, but the women turned away. She told the women she was looking for a friend and asked them if they knew of a young Iranian man who’d been at the mosque. They made a tsk noise and cleared out. The women had not been welcoming, but Jessica believed the guarded reaction could be attributed to Muslim beliefs on single women mixing with men who were not family. She wasn’t going to get anything here and decided to call it.
30
ON THE MEN’S SIDE OF the mosque, Alejandro was preparing to leave when he was approached by a group of elders. The oldest of the group had his arms crossed and was scowling. It was this man who asked, “What’s your name and why did you come to this mosque?” The tone was even more direct than the words. Alejandro was opening his mouth to speak when the undercover agent approached. “Kaleel,” he said to one of the elders, “I’m glad to see you met my cousin Jamaal. I told you he was coming for a short while. You remember I said he’d be joining us any day.” He turned to Alejandro and clasped his shoulders. “It is good to see you, cousin. I am sorry I was delayed. I hope your journey was without trouble.”
“It is good to see you too, Muhammad. I’m well and my trip was fine. Thank you for making a place for me here, cousin.” The Imam studied Alejandro through squinted eyes for a long while before saying, “Your cousin has spoken for you. You’re welcome here as all good Muslims are. We’ll expect to see more of you.” It didn’t take being a spy to know the Imam was giving off a vibe of power and distrust. Muhammad informed the group that he was going to show his cousin Jamaal around the city and catch up on family news. They said respectful goodbyes, and the two spies made their way out to the street under the scrutiny of the elders of the mosque. They kept up their cover conversation until they had walked two blocks, boarded the Metro, and were sitting alone in the back of the car.
“Thanks for vouching for me on short notice.”
“I’m glad to help.”
“I’m curious how you could have told Kaleel you were expecting me days ago.”
“Kaleel won’t admit it, but he’s in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. I know he’s a dirty, evil S-O-B responsible for a lot of bad shit. I can’t prove it yet, but in the meantime, I don’t feel guilty about using his failing memory against him if it means stopping terrorists and if it helps to take him down.”
“Do you have anything on our suspect or the mosque’s activities beyond what is in the file you
gave us?”
“Unfortunately, not really. These guys keep everything quiet and extremely compartmentalized. No one person seems to know everything. I’ve been under at the mosque eight months, and they still treat me like an outsider. All I know is in the file I sent. Your suspect showed up at the mosque about four months ago. I witnessed him meeting with a few of the shadier members, and once I overheard him talking to someone about the many pagans in a city of infidels. I really can’t say what he was referring to.”
“Anything else you can think of? Everything you give us could help. Do you think there are any photos of him?”
“No. They don’t have any cameras in there that record. I can tell you his vibe was all about business. He was dark and angry.” After thinking for a few minutes, Muhammed added, “If this guy has gotten hold of a chemical agent, he won’t care who’s in the way of his target.”
The two got off after a few stops and walked in silence before Muhammed continued. “I don’t know if it’s related, but shortly after the Iranian became a regular, there were lectures on betrayals and descendants paying for their ancestors’ sins.”
“Interesting. Could be something. We appreciate your help and will try to keep a low profile,” Alejandro told the operative. “I take it you have something in place to explain why I’m not here after a few days. We don’t want to make them suspicious of you.”
“We’ve got it covered.”
31
MARK PULLED HIS CAR INTO the parking spot and climbed out. Approaching the building, he caught his reflection in the glass. “Dang, I look good. Don’t you agree, Jess?”
“Yes, Mark. You look like a handsome intellectual. I’ve got eyes and I hear you loud and clear. Remind me to tell Marshall how amazing his tech is for this to work this well from across town.” She leaned back in her suite’s desk chair and prepared for the show.
