by Cherry Laska
“Hmm. Back to business then. I knew you’d want to be kept up to date on our progress. Marshall is going to be working in his lab all day. Alejandro will be coordinating with other departments in the CIA to prioritize finding a trace of Zircone or anything related to the threat. Mark is contacting agents all over the Middle
East for their knowledge and insight. I’ll be having the most fun working the diplomatic channels to try to get some cooperation.
Is everything good there? Anybody suspect anything?”
“Everything is good here. What can I do to help?”
“You could put together a report on C-FC and possible chemicals weapons. Include all pertinent information, so we’re prepared if something goes down.”
“You got it. I was just getting ready to go to the grocery store. I’d forgotten it’s my turn to host Bunco tomorrow. It’s really just an excuse for my friends to get together to talk, eat, and drink. I usually go all out and spend the day cooking and baking, but I can cancel.”
“No. Don’t do that. Maintain your normal routine. Get to the report when you can. I think it’s going to be several days before anything breaks. Zircone has to travel and set up his next move. We have no idea where he’s going to pop-up, but something will break. Oh, and be ready with a reason why you have to go away again. When we do get a lead, we’ll have to jump on it.”
“I have some ideas,” Jessica said.
Joe laughed and said in a husky voice, “I do too.”
The smile that had crept over Jessica’s face stayed there long after they’d said goodbye and she’d finished her routine of creams, lotion, and makeup. She put her hair in a ponytail and threw on a sundress. The menu for tomorrow night came to her. She wanted to try to replicate some of the dishes they’d had in Paris. That was one of her favorite ways to cook. Jessica went to the kitchen and sat with a cup of coffee and her MacBook searching recipes online. She downloaded a few, quickly made an Excel workbook with the separate worksheets for the menu, recipes, timeline, and a shopping list. She loved to entertain and found that detailed planning was the only way for her to provide the experience she wanted and still have fun at her own party. She printed the list, grabbed her keys, and headed out.
Jessica called Anderson on her drive to the store. He had tried to reach her while she was getting ready. He hadn’t left a message, but he would expect her to return his call. Not that she cared what he expected or wanted, but it’d be good to keep things cordial and to coordinate with him so she could avoid him. She had a sick feeling while the phone was ringing and was more than happy to get his voicemail. She left a short message asking for his schedule and reminding him she was hosting Bunco tomorrow. Although it was par for the course, she thought it was sad that she never knew where he was. It was so clear now with hindsight that they’d been living separate lives for years.
44
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA
THE NORMALLY AWKWARD MARSHALL WORKED with complete precision and control over all the equipment in his lab. He always listened to music but what type depended on his mood. Some days it was K-Pop, other days it was Classic Rock or old Motown. Today it was Calypso. He turned up the volume and opened the digital form of the picture from Moreau’s apartment of the girl on the beach.
Marshall began working to clean up and enhance the image quality before he ran the picture through the program he had written on landmass recognition. He had gotten the idea to modify the advanced facial recognition software to do basically the same thing with landmasses. With enough points of comparison, the program could pull from all the images that lived on the internet. It didn’t matter if the picture was on a social network, a city’s website, or a digital travel magazine.
When the picture was ready, Marshall typed the commands for the program to run. One of the monitors depicted the beach picture with numerous circles and lines highlighting the key points of comparison. On a second monitor, the super-fast computer rapidly flashed pictures that met the initial criteria, but were eliminated when they failed to meet the layers of detail criteria. There was no way to tell when a match would be found, but Marshall thought it would take some time.
He rolled his chair to another terminal and pulled up all the security footage of Jessica and Joe’s high-speed chase and the footage from their hotel. Marshall isolated the best frame of each suspected SAVAK agent and started individual searches utilizing the traditional facial recognition software against every possible database belonging to America and its allies. If those failed, he had no problem with doing a little hacking and running the images against other databases. Hopefully he’d get lucky. Time was important.
Next, Marshall mixed the few grains of sand from the toe ring with a benign solution. He put a few drops in several tubes and put them in a machine and closed the lid. It began to spin. It would take a while for the analytics to process, breakdown, and identify minerals, contaminates, and other factors, which would then be run against a global database and could possibly identify where the sand matched geographically.
With those started, he got up and went in the next room. He had the motorcycle parked there with several large metal tables covered in special tarps. He donned lighted, magnifying glasses and put on a pair of gloves. Marshall began systematically disassembling the bike, examining each part for trace evidence or prints as he went along. He was going to be at it a while.
45
ORLANDO, FLORIDA
CHASE WAS GETTING READY TO leave the house for his date. Jessica said, “Please be careful. Call me if you change your plans and go somewhere different.” She added, “And be a gentleman.”
He gave her a quirky smile. “Don’t worry, Mom. Of course, and I’ll be fine.”
“One more thing. You look handsome.” It was worth the head shake that it got her because it came with a big smile. Turning her attention to Bridgette and Trevor, Jessica asked, “So, what should we do tonight?” Trevor stood up. “I’m out. I’m going with the guys to the movies. I’m going to Meagan’s house after that.” He added, “Her parents are home. I have money. I won’t be too late. I won’t call, but I’ll text if I change plans. I’ll be safe, but I won’t be a gentleman.” He laughed, kissed the top of her head, and left.
Jessica called after him, “What about dinner?”
“I’ll grab something out.”
Jessica raised her eyebrows at Bridgette, who got up and shook her head. “Sorry, Mom. I have plans too.”
“And what might those plans be, pray tell?” Bridgette rolled her eyes. No smile. “Come on, Gidgie. You know you need to fill me in. Give me a few details.”
“I’m going to go see a new band at City Walk with some friends.”
Jessica considered this for a minute. “Bridgette, no way. You’ve got to be eighteen to get into those clubs, and you’re not. I’m sorry.”
“Mom. Seriously?”
“Seriously. There’s no negotiating. What’s it going to be then? Want to watch a movie?” Her daughter looked at her like she was absurd. What’s with kids today? Jessica thought. She’s pushing it.
“Uh, no. Kelsey is picking me up. We’ll go to Casey’s baseball game. He’s having a bunch of friends go back to his house afterwards and before you ask, his parents are home.”
“Much better.”
It was Friday night and it was going to be just Jessica. She turned on the TV for background noise and spent the next three hours chopping, mixing, and baking. She let her mind wander. It kept bouncing between the kids, the case, Bunco, Joe, and Anderson. She tried not to worry about Trevor, Chase, and Bridgette. They were good kids.
She thought about Joe and felt that rush of excitement she kept getting. She contemplated whether her feelings were the result of everything they’d been through together, all their history coupled with their cover as a newly engaged couple in the world’s most romantic city. Now that Jessica was at home, she still felt like a teenager. She kept reliving the memory of the fake proposal, the feel of his body c
lose to hers, and of course, the incredible kissing on the Eiffel Tower. She closed her eyes and got lost in it.The oven timer beeped, snapping her back to the moment. She took out the test cheese soufflé while wondering what the kiss had meant to Joe. Did it mean anything at all. Was he just being a guy having fun? She laughed at herself for being so unsure and insecure. She told herself everything would be fine. Very fine, she thought flashing to images of Joe with his eyes and that mischievous look. Oh man, Jessica, stop being ridiculous.
Anderson popped into her head. She frowned and her respiratory rate plummeted to normal. She wished she could fast-forward to the end of the divorce process. The sooner they didn’t have to live together, the better. The house and all their stuff needed to be sorted out. What a pain!
Her mind bounced back and forth around all of that and what she was cooking, but most of the time she thought about the case. She worried about the threat the country was facing and how they could get a lead on Zircone. She had to figure out where that bastard was going to attack. Americans felt safe, but that could all change in an instant. She put her frustration into scrubbing the kitchen and left it as sterile as an operating room.
Feeling slightly better, Jessica climbed into bed with her iPad and started reviewing all the data on the case and researching for her report. A request from Joe to FaceTime popped up. She ran her fingers through her hair and clicked accept.
“Hi, Joe.”
“How are you doing, Jess?”
“I’m good. The kids are out. Anderson’s traveling. I was just doing some work but nothing is sticking out.”
“I didn’t have much luck today either. Bureaucrats.”
“Ahh. That doesn’t sound very fun at all. Is there anything new we can use yet?”
Joe shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Crap.”
“You never were good at being patient,”
“Who me?” She batted her eyes, making him laugh.
Joe was quiet for a minute. “So I got an email from Jacque with the details about their Riviera House. I’ll send you the link. The place looks spectacular. I think we should find a way to make it happen.”
“I’d love to. I’ll pack my bikini.”
“Or maybe no. The area is famous for its beautiful nude beaches.”
“I like how you’re thinking.”
“Oh, we’re definitely going.” Feeling the heat, Joe cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So, tell me about tomorrow. What are you cooking and who’s coming?”
They talked for a long while. Jessica yawned. She was feeling her lack of sleep.
“I think we both need some rest.”
“I’d love to get some rest, but I want to wait up to make sure the kids get home safe. Teenagers are tough on sleep just like babies.”
“That’s what my sister says. I’ll wait up with you.”
Jessica shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to turn out the lights and watch a little TV.”
“I do have a busy day tomorrow.” Joe yawned. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Good night.”
“Sleep well, Joe.”
She snuggled in and grabbed the TV remote. As she flipped through channels, she reflected on how her favorite shows were usually those with the police, FBI, or CIA chasing bad guys. She especially liked them if they included a steamy love interest. She settled on The Spy Who Loved Me. It had just ended when she heard the rumble of Trevor’s truck.
He knocked on her bedroom door and came in. “You’re still up?” She patted the bed. He kicked off his shoes and grabbed the throw at the end of the bed. He got on top of the covers and reached for the remote. Jessica was happy to have time with her oldest son and let him take control of the TV. In a few months, he’d be away at college. She’d miss him terribly.
He checked the list of recorded shows and chose Suits. It was ending when Bridgette popped her head in and said, “Good night.” She walked out texting. Two down, one to go.
Trevor called after her, “Nice talking to you.”
Jessica patted his shoulder. “She’ll come around. At least she was on time and stopped by the door.” He scowled and went back to the high-powered, well dressed lawyers.
Chase came in fifteen minutes later and found his way to her room. He gave Jessica a hug, said he’d had a good night, and took a spot on the floor with a pillow and another throw blanket. Knowing they were all safe, Jessica quickly slipped off into a deep sleep.
46
MIAMI, FLORIDA
REZA STEPPED OUTSIDE OF HIS hotel and welcomed the warm, humid air. He preferred the fresh air over the cold, recycled air. He embraced the comfort of the warm evening temperature and the smell of the ocean. It was so fresh, so clean. It reminded him of the time he had spent with his family in the town of Nowshahr when he was nine. He’d been permitted to swim in the Caspian Sea at Koorkoorsar Beach. The memory brought him a moment of joy, though it was not enough to provide him with peace for very long. He blamed the spoiled Americans’ dependence on energy for creating so many of the problems the world was facing. He seethed but tried to let it go. That was not what his mission was about.
Tonight Reza was in a particularly foul mood. He had spent the past several hours searching the internet for news from home. He looked at everything about the people demonstrating peacefully and speaking out about the fixed elections.There were photos of women and men of all ages wearing green to show their solidarity with the demand for change. At first, these photos and articles had made Reza hopeful, but as he continued to dig on the dark web sites, he found pictures of these same people being struck and dragged away. The scary thing was, as soon as he accessed some of these pictures, they were disappearing off his screen. The Iranians in power were doing everything they could to stop the public from knowing the truth about what was happening. Reza knew what was really going on in his homeland was actually much worse than anything these photos showed, and he knew the leaders in the governments around the world knew it too.
Once the Iranian government had someone inside prison walls, nothing could save them. The government controlled the narrative. Someone starving to death would be reported as an intentional hunger strike. A prisoner beaten to death would have an official report detailing a suicide or a fight with another inmate. The legitimacy of confessions and the names of people committing crimes provided by a prisoner being tortured were never questioned.
The more Reza looked at the images online, the more infuriated he had become. Why was there no support from the world? Where was the United Nations? Where was the compassion and intervention from the Americans who claimed to support democracy?
No, his people would not be receiving help, but he would make sure the world leaders couldn’t claim they hadn’t been fully aware of what was happening to the Iranian people. He would make sure the world knew how America interfered in his country’s politics and then turned their backs, betraying the pro-democracy movement they had supported. Zardooz, Amiri, America—they were all going to pay for the numerous lives they’d ruined, including his own. He would see to it. He was resolved to complete the mission Pasha had planned, no matter the cost to him or anyone who got in his way.
As Reza walked to meet his contact, his mind turned to his father, mother, and sisters. It was painful to think of the torture and disgrace they had suffered because of their relationship to him. His eyes and heart burned with hatred as he rounded the corner onto Washington Avenue. A young couple holding hands and kissing as they walked almost bumped into Reza. His blood boiled. He struggled to steady his temper and focus on his mission. He wanted to leap on these sinners and beat them, but he couldn’t. He could not risk attracting the attention of the police and endangering his mission. The hardest part for him was the waiting, but having to witness and endure all the abominations around him made it that much worse. He lowered his eyes to the ground and moved on.
Reza waited in line for almost half an hour before he was allowed the privil
ege of paying twenty dollars to enter the nightclub. Men and women who were not married or family were lying together on beds in public and consuming alcohol. Even though Reza had researched the place, it had not prepared him for being there experiencing it in person. He shook with extreme disdain. It took all his devotion to his faith and country to keep from attacking the people around him. Hedonism and sinners. His eyes scanned the fifteen or so cushioned areas lined with pillows and separated by white sheer curtains. He was shocked and appalled by the amount of flesh he saw. He knew his contact, the Cuban, had chosen such a place for an advantage, but Reza would not allow this. He ordered a cranberry and soda and sipped it slowly. He kept his eyes on the door and refused to look toward the beds or the dance floor.
Time passed and the club grew more and more crowded. The lights grew dimmer and the backlit red lighting grew brighter, making Reza think of the blazing fires of Jahannam these sinners would see eventually. The dance floor filled. Reza could no longer avoid seeing the men and women shaking their bodies to the vulgar language set to the pulsing beat. All combinations of men and women were grinding on each other. Reza saw a woman wearing a dress so short that every time she raised her arms her underwear showed. When she was facing away from him, she flashed her thonged-bottom with her bare cheeks. He realized his fists were clenched by his sides. It was almost too much for him to handle. He tried to ignore the animals around him. He needed to concentrate on his purpose and what he needed to do to provide his people with the opportunity to live according to the Koran without constant fear of their corrupt government.
47
ORLANDO, FLORIDA
IT ALWAYS AMAZED JESSICA HOW much a group of women could drink when they got together. The sixteen ladies in her Bunco group had gone through almost all six reds and six whites she’d set out. It was a good thing she had a stocked wine room. Jessica opened the door to select a couple more bottles and spotted the bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape trimmed with a gold ribbon and decorative tag around the neck—the one from our hotel room. How the heck Joe had managed to get it in her wine room was beyond her.
