Gambling With the Enemy: Horses - Mystery - Suspense
Page 12
His friends at the café were obsessed by the massive increase in security, and widespread public paranoia, as the anniversary of September Eleventh approached. The Americans feared some sort of retribution for the war in Iraq. What did they expect? America–the most powerful nation in the world–dropping bombs on starving Afghans, razing Iraqi villages without thought to innocent women and children. The United States would reap the harvest she’d sown.
Samir thought about his recent trip to New York, where he’d personally seen and felt the antagonistic attitude of the citizens of that broken city. In Hartford, his situation was good. Respected and well-liked, his participation in the community and his generosity to charities gave him stature. He felt comfortable and secure. Manhattan had been quite another matter.
During the two-day visit, he’d felt suspicious eyes following him wherever he’d gone. A chilly distance had separated him from shopkeepers and pedestrians. Even his meeting with Shafik Diab, an Egyptian oriental carpet importer, had been tense–the man acted nervous, as though he feared surveillance of his meetings with other Middle Easterners.
No matter. None of them are important. The Truth will be visited upon all of them. Allaahu akbar.
He thought about Easton Ridge again and smiled. Soon, he would have the final piece of the plan.
Chapter 27
Faith’s color had returned, and her eyes snapped with indignation. “I can’t believe this! I knew there was something about those two!”
Jess shook her head. “Them! I can’t believe Samir’s involved in this.”
“Jessie, what are we gonna do?”
“I don’t know yet, but one thing’s for sure–this is really nasty stuff. I think it’s time to get some legal advice.”
Faith left the room, and Jess battled with her emotions as she stared at the phone with unseeing eyes. Disappointment grew in her heart. Howard was the glimmer of excitement in her life, the promise of a bright future. Asking him to haul her out of shark-infested waters would destroy the sense of mystery between them. Her eyes burned. Not exactly what I intended.
She heard the toilet flush, then footsteps on the hardwood floor in the hall. Faith entered the kitchen, and Jess tried for an optimistic smile.
“You feel okay? Can I get you anything?”
“Yeah, vodka tonic, maybe a gun.”
Jess’s control snapped. “You can’t act like this! I need your help.”
“I know, I’m sorry. . .Did you call Howard?”
“No, I want to go over the situation with you again before I talk to anyone.” She leaned her elbows on the breakfast bar and cradled her head in her hands. “I can’t fucking believe this.”
“Wow, two phone conversations in the same day! You must be missin’ me.”
Howard’s voice bounded through the phone, filling Jess with both joy and dread. She wondered if his happy greeting would be the last personal exchange she’d ever have with him.
“Howard, something very serious is going on here. We’re really scared.”
Concern replaced the jovial tone. “Tell me.”
She sketched out the tale, describing her financial problems, Samir’s involvement, and the poker game, but leaving out the source of her stake. He listened quietly, only interrupting once to ask for clarification on something. When she’d reached the end of the horror story, he cleared his throat, and she prepared herself for referral to a local attorney.
“Jess, don’t discuss this with anyone again. I’ll fly out early in the morning. Go ahead with the FBI plan to send the suspects on an errand, but do not talk to the agents again–just say you’ve consulted an attorney. Understand?”
Her throat felt so tight she could barely swallow, and her voice came out almost a whimper. “Yes. Howard…?”
“It’ll be okay, hon. Stay calm. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Jess hung up the phone and turned to Faith. “You go on home. Howard will be here tomorrow.”
Faith’s voice rose. “But, Jess, I want–”
“Faith! It’s your afternoon off. We’re supposed to carry on as usual. Go home, I’ll call you. And stay–”
“Don’t even start, Jessie! You think I’m stupid?”
“No, I don’t think you’re stupid, but we can’t afford even a tiny mistake right now.”
Faith spun on her heel and marched out the kitchen door, slamming it behind her.
Jess couldn’t erase the thoughts that her home and life had been invaded, her privacy penetrated by the very people who’d devastated America less than four years previous. Walking woodenly toward the barn, she wondered how she’d be able to speak normally to Hafez or Mustafa, when all she really wanted to do was kill them. If I ever needed a poker face, it’s now.
Casey called out as Jess moved down the aisle, the shrill whinny a reminder of how much was at stake. Jess slid the stall door aside and wrapped her arms around Casey’s warm neck, inhaling her unique scent, and sinking into fear.
A few minutes later, Jess checked the inventory log, searching for something that would require a lengthy trip. Saddle blankets. She’d been meaning to order new ones. She placed the order with a large tack store in Enfield, then left the office in search of the nephews.
At the far end of the aisle, Mona led a bay gelding into a stall, but Jess heard no other sounds of activity. That’s strange, the guys are usually busy with the evening feed by now. An uneasy feeling crawled into her chest. Continuing down the aisle, she approached the north doors that faced the carriage house. Maybe they were on a prayer break. As she passed the feed room, she heard muffled voices. She stepped inside the empty room to locate the source. Hafez and Mustafa were up in the hayloft and, given the intensity and emotion in their voices, it sounded as though they were having an argument.
Jess pictured them organizing their weaponry, donning fatigues, taking her hostage. She took a deep breath to dispel the disturbing images, then moved to the base of the ladder.
“Hafez?”
The conversation stopped abruptly, then a brown face appeared in the hole directly above her.
“Yes?”
“I need you guys to run an errand for me.”
He nodded and disappeared, and Jess stepped away from the ladder. The voices overhead now murmured softly and indistinctly, the tone much subdued. A minute later, both men climbed down the ladder, and fear oozed into Jess’s chest.
She stood two feet from the enemy.
“I have a large order to be picked up at Ranchero Tack in Enfield.” She willed her fingers to stop trembling as she handed the purchase order to Hafez. “Do you know where that is?”
He nodded. “We have a map.”
“Good. It’ll take you a couple of hours, so you’d better leave now. Mona and I will finish feeding.”
The men nodded and left the room, not speaking to each other on their way out. Something in their manner told Jess she’d surprised them in the middle of an important conversation, and a chill shuddered across her shoulders. She stepped into the tack room and moved to the window that faced the front of the building. Five minutes later, the van pulled slowly around the corner and headed down the driveway. Jess watched until the vehicle turned onto the highway and disappeared.
“Are they gone?”
Jess jumped, smacking her elbow on the windowsill. “Dammit, Mona! Quit sneaking up on me!”
Mona’s crooked grin broke the tension. “Goes with the territory. How long will they be gone?”
A deep breath quelled the nausea rising in Jess’s throat. “At least three hours.”
She started for the door, but Mona reached out and touched her arm.
“Jess, this probably sounds corny, but I want you to know how much I’ve enjoyed being here, even though it was under false pretenses.”
Jess scowled. “I should have suspected something earlier. I watched you ride one afternoon. . .you’re too good for a beginner.”
Mona looked embarrassed. “Yeah. Before I joined th
e Bureau, I rode with the NYPD mounted patrol in Central Park.” Her face darkened. “After the Trade Towers, I decided to dedicate my life to wiping out these bastards!”
Mona’s vehemence touched Jess. She hadn’t fully considered the effects of the terrorist attacks on others and, for a moment, she sympathized with the woman who’d become so involved in the future of Easton Ridge.
Mona turned away. “I need to get upstairs. Keep a lookout, and let me know when they come back.”
Chapter 28
The hands on the clock slowed to a crawl, and a dull headache thumped at the base of Jess’s skull. Alone in the office, she thought about the events of the past week, and a hollow feeling gathered in her chest. Could she have prevented this mess if she’d been paying closer attention? Her brain whirled with the finances, her precarious health, Faith’s drinking problem–distractions that had required inordinate amounts of mental energy.
She shook her head and exhaled. How could she have been so stupid to take those men in without checking them out? She’d sidestepped a basic business practice, and now she and Faith were paying for it. Moving to the window, she scanned the road, her thoughts scrambling to justify her actions. A whole new world lay out there, and though she’d always trusted her instincts, and believed in everyone’s equality, that was clearly not enough. America had never been attacked on home soil, and the experience had spawned an unfamiliar set of emotions and attitudes.
Samir and the nephews had slipped into her life, and she’d politely held the door open for them.
She folded back a clean sheet on a yellow legal pad, and began making notes in chronological order, intent on remembering every detail. A muffled sound outside the door caught her attention, and she quickly slipped the legal pad under a stack of papers on the desk as Mona stepped into the office.
“Damn, it’s hot up there.” She swiped her forehead with her sleeve, and exhaled sharply.
Jess disregarded Howard’s warning, her curiosity too strong to remain silent. “Did you find anything?”
“Yeah, two bags of grain with parts for a hand-held rocket launcher.”
The words ricocheted through Jess’s head, and she struggled to breathe through paralyzed lungs. The mysterious grain order–right under her nose.
Mona’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
“Nothing. . .I just remembered seeing some spilled grain in the loft a couple of days ago. I thought it was mice.”
Mona pulled out a small notebook. “What day was that? What were you doing up there?”
Jess’s words snapped with irritation. “I do work here!”
Mona’s jaw hardened, and Jess realized she’d overreacted.
“Mona, I’ve called an attorney. I don’t want to discuss this any further until he gets here.”
Mona cocked her head, her eyes reflecting surprise. “Oh? Why do you think you need one?”
“I just. . .Jeez, this terrorism thing is more than I can handle alone.”
“Yeah, it’s scary. . .Do you mind if I check out the carriage house?”
“No, of course not. Do whatever you have to.”
Thirty minutes later, Mona reappeared. “The room’s cleaner than a monk’s cell. Now, I just need to figure out a way to get inside their vehicle.” She thought for a moment. “When will your lawyer be here?”
“In the morning.”
Mona glanced at the window and her features tensed. “Here come the boys. It’s business as usual. Call me on my cell when your attorney arrives.”
She left the room, and Jess’s stomach knotted. The wheels were in motion and she wished to God she knew where they were headed.
She gazed at Naomi Morton’s receipt on the desk, and feelings of dread seeped into her thoughts. Before this ended, she might have to admit what she’d done.
She folded her page of notes four times, and stuffed the wad into the pocket of her jeans. Heading toward the tack room, she found it hard to act nonchalant. Every step echoed loudly, her face felt wooden, her movements robotic.
Mustafa and Hafez were unloading the saddle blankets.
She cleared her throat to announce her presence. “Just pile them on one of those tack trunks. I’ll put them away later.”
Hafez nodded. “Is there anything else you want us to do?”
Jess shook her head, wanting nothing except to run them out of her barn.
He bobbed his head. “Ma’assalama.”
After the men crossed the yard to their quarters, Jess slid the heavy barn door closed, and headed back to the house.
Howard phoned at nine the next morning.
“Hi, it’s me. I’m at the airport in Hartford. I’ll rent a car and see you in about an hour. Meet me at your house, not the barn. Oh, and Faith needs to be there, too.”
Jess set the phone slowly back on the hook. Howard’s usual mischievous lilt had disappeared, replaced by an edgy tone that conjured up images of high-visibility court cases, power plays, and posturing before a jury. Suddenly, she felt invaded and vulnerable. Bugs. The place is probably peppered with them. Her indignation surfaced. Mona’s been here for weeks, with freedom to be anywhere in the barn. Dammit! That stuff is supposed to be illegal. . . A quick memory of something stirred in her head, an article she’d read about changes in surveillance techniques and capabilities since 9/11. She exhaled sharply. No point in worrying about it now. I have bigger problems to solve.
Chapter 29
Howard stepped through the door, and Jess took a quick breath. Dressed in an expensive, dark blue three-piece suit and crisp white shirt, he appeared to be all business. Except for his warm smile.
“Hello, Jess.” He kissed her on the cheek, then turned and tossed a brown leather briefcase onto the couch.
She closed the door, savoring the light tingle where his lips had brushed her skin.
“How was your flight?”
Good grief, is that the best you can manage?
“Fairly good, a little bumpy over Kansas. When will Faith be here?”
A small twinge of disappointment sang through Jess’s head. He’d obviously already focused on the challenge of her circumstances.
“I’ll call her in a little bit. . .how are things out West?”
He turned, uneasiness flickering through his eyes. He stepped up close and took hold of her shoulders.
“Jessie, we have to stay focused.” He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “This is a deadly situation–we can talk about personal things later.”
She nodded, wanting to freeze the moment so she could enjoy it a little longer.
He released her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
Her voice caught. “I’m fine.”
“Okay, let’s get organized.” He picked up the briefcase and moved toward the breakfast bar.
Tension tightened her throat. “The FBI agent wanted me to call when you got here.”
“I’ll call them after I’ve heard your story and figured out where we are. From now on, I’ll do the talking–you have to trust me.”
The doorbell rang and he looked out the window. “It’s your partner.”
In moments, Jess’s confidence plummeted. Faith’s eyes were bright–too bright–her smile too sassy for the circumstances. An alarm went off in Jess’s head, and a quick look at Howard’s face revealed that he recognized the signs, too.
Faith sauntered to the couch and dropped into the deep cushions. “I’m ready to catch terrorists!”
Howard sounded disgusted. “Jess, why don’t you make some coffee–we have a long morning ahead of us.”
Ten minutes later, Jess’s story began with the blizzard that had set the financial downslide in motion.
She shook her head. “We simply could never catch up. The cost of running this business and maintaining twenty-two horses is astronomical.”
Howard scribbled something, then looked up. “I can imagine. I’ll need a complete breakdown of the expenses, loans, income.”
“What for?”
She took a deep breath, then hurtled into the saga of how Easton Ridge had met the enemy.
“Samir seemed nice in the beginning. I certainly had no reason to distrust him.”
Faith snorted. “I didn’t like him or his wife from the day I met them.” She paused and her voice softened. “Dania’s a nice little kid, though–damned good rider.” She drained her coffee mug, then stood up, flashing a crooked smile. “Back in a minute.”
As soon as she’d closed the bathroom door, Howard exhaled sharply. “This is not good, Jess. When did she start drinking again?”
“I honestly don’t know. . .I’ve been so wrapped up in my own problems. I feel terrible–”
“No, don’t beat yourself up. You’re not her keeper.” His voice dropped, thick with concern. “You both need your wits about you this afternoon. I’m concerned that if the feds think you won’t help them, they’ll try to implicate you both as conspirators. They can frighten you enough to get you to cooperate fully. They play this game to win.” He winked. “You of all people should understand gamesmanship.”
His attempt at humor thudded through Jess’s chest. In minutes, she would humiliate herself in front of the two most important people in her life.
Faith returned, her step less jaunty, her face pale. She settled on the couch, avoiding eye contact.
Howard rose and stretched. “My turn.” He headed toward the hall.
Faith’s voice was barely audible. “I’m really sorry.”
Jess patted her knee. “I know. Let’s see if we can get through the afternoon, then I’ll make up the guestroom.” She met Faith’s sad gaze. “I don’t want to be alone, either.”
Howard picked up his legal pad. “Okay, I want all the details of every day since Mrs. Mahfood came to the stable.”
Faith remained silent while Jess related Samir’s apparent empathy, and his offer to help with the chores.
Howard sounded skeptical. “Didn’t you think that was unusual? A middle-aged businessman interested in barn work?”