by Toni Leland
While she waited, Jess tried to concentrate on what needed to be done for the show, but her brain wouldn’t function. Her foremost thoughts centered on the unfolding intrigue, but she could not imagine how the situation would evolve.
Mustafa appeared in the doorway. “I am finished.”
She handed him the keys to her old pickup, a relic from the first years at Easton Ridge. “Take the farm truck. The poles won’t fit in your van.”
From somewhere outside, she heard Hafez’s excited voice. Mustafa left the office, and Jess quickly stepped to the window. Hafez stood beside the van, talking on the phone, his face intense with excitement, or some deeper emotion. Anxiety stirred through Jess’s head. Maybe he’s using this trip to set up a meeting with Samir, or someone else in the network. The gravity of the situation assaulted her again. Seeing parts of the big picture moving doggedly toward the construction of terror, she finally accepted the importance of her role–one that would test her instincts to the limit.
Mona’s voice interrupted the solemn introspection.
“Are they gone?”
“Yeah, they just turned onto the highway.”
Mona whipped out her cellphone and punched auto-dial.
“Pete? They just left. Do you have them on the monitor?” She frowned, her voice rising. “What do you mean? How could you miss them?”
Jess gasped. “Mona, wait–they took the farm truck, not the van.”
“Oh, shit! Pete? See if one of the guys can catch up with a blue eighty-nine Ford pickup.”
She pocketed the phone and scowled at Jess. “I wish you’d told me you were going to send them in the truck. You really screwed this up.”
“Wait just a damned minute! I’m doing everything I can to help you, but I can’t read your mind. If you had a plan to follow them, you should have told me.”
Hostility crackled through the air, then Mona nodded. “You’re right.” She glanced at her watch. “Get Faith over here. Peterson’s sending a search unit. We have to find that cellphone.”
Faith’s voice cut through the tension as she moved into the office. “I’m right here.” She didn’t look at Jess.
Mona made a quick call, then pocketed the phone again. “They’ll be here in five minutes.”
Jess cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “Five minutes?”
“We have a staging house just around the bend.”
Jess gazed at the agent for moment, putting all the pieces together. Mona’s availability, living close-by. The whole operation had been set up for weeks.
“I see. . .by the way, while I was giving Mustafa instructions, Hafez was outside on the phone, talking a mile-a-minute in Arabic and looking at a map. I got the impression he was planning to meet someone.”
Mona’s face broke into a wicked grin. “Excellent. The more we have on these bastards, the better.”
Twenty minutes later, Jess scooped up a handful of carrots and headed for Casey’s stall. She needed to be alone and sort out her thoughts. While Casey munched, Jess moved to the window facing the woods behind the barn. From that vantage point, she watched Faith talk to four men and Mona. Then, they all moved to the spot from where Hafez had thrown the phone. After a little more discussion, the search team fanned out and entered the woods.
Though it was daylight, Jess could see high-powered flashlights sweeping back and forth through the dark forest. How long would it take them to find the phone? Would they find it? The underbrush grew thick that time of year–the search would be like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.
Hay reminded her of the weaponry in the loft, and cold fingers of fear clawed at her chest. Horrifying images of the Trade Towers played through her head, crumbling in slow motion as though it had happened yesterday. Terror had come home to roost.
Casey’s gentle nudge brought her back with a start, then determination replaced fear. With a final glance at the team working methodically through the woods, she left the stall and headed for the office. She had no idea what the next few days would bring, but she had a business to run and a horse show to organize. And she had to figure out how to deal with Faith.
The final Easton Ridge schooling show of the season was a big event. Jess always pulled out all the stops, catering a lunch, offering a full bar, and purchasing classy trophies for the students who’d worked so hard all year. Unfortunately, this year she’d left everything until the last minute, and would be hard pressed to get her act together. Well, it’s not as if I was lying around doing nothing. Unplanned circumstances notwithstanding, she needed to concentrate all her efforts on making the show a success.
She gazed at the circled show date on the calendar. September Eleventh. Maybe it’s an omen. A good one, I hope.
An hour later, still alone in the barn, she checked off the last item on the list, then rose to stretch. Focusing on the show details had calmed her brain and given her anxiety some respite. As she gazed out the window, a late model Cadillac turned into the driveway and pulled up in front of her house. Howard climbed out of the car and her stomach churned, the earlier calm vaporizing. Too many things were going on in her life, none of which she seemed able to control. She closed her eyes and wished there were some way to make all the problems disappear.
Chapter 32
Howard’s voice boomed through the telephone.
“Jess, could you and Faith come over here for a little while?”
“Be there shortly.”
She walked briskly down the aisle and out the side door. Faith stood at the edge of the woods, arms crossed, her face pinched with anxiety. Jess felt a stab of sorrow at the terrible turn their friendship had taken.
“Faith? You okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll be glad when all this is over.”
Jess nodded. “Whenever that might be.”
Loud voices echoed from the depths of the woods, and Faith took a couple of steps closer to the trees.
“Sounds like they found it!”
Jess’s pulse quickened. “Boy, I hope so! I don’t know how much more of this play-acting I can handle.”
The search unit emerged from the underbrush, every face bright with victory. Mona gave a thumbs-up signal, and one of the men lofted a plastic bag containing a tiny muddy phone.
The group headed toward their vehicles, and Jess turned to Faith.
“Howard’s waiting for us at the house.”
Faith brushed past her and struck off across the grass. Jess hurried to catch up, wondering how long it would take to get Faith to talk to her.
Howard sat in the porch swing, a yellow legal pad balanced on his knees. He looked up and smiled. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.”
Jess leaned against the porch rail. “Almost. The search team found the phone. . .they seem confident they’ll discover what Samir and his group are up to.” She glanced at Faith. “Sure wish we knew what’s going to happen, and when.”
Faith hiked one foot onto the bottom step of the porch. “Do you need me, Howard? ’Cause if you don’t, I could sure use a shower and an early night. Dania’s coming for an extra lesson tomorrow morning.”
“I’d like you to stay for a little while. I have some interesting background information to share.”
Jess pushed away from the rail. “Let’s go inside. I’m parched.”
A few minutes later, Howard took a long swallow of iced tea and looked across the breakfast bar at the two women.
“I spent some time in Hartford at the state library. If we’re going to be of any help in the war against terrorism, we need to know the enemy.”
Jess’s stomach lurched. She could not get used to the idea that she’d blundered into such deep water.
Howard consulted his notes and cleared his throat.
“Let me start by telling you there are six million Muslims in America, and they are not all terrorists. They are law-abiding citizens, enjoying the fruits of American independence and opportunity. Now, I don’t know if you ladies have follow
ed the news, but the FBI has stepped up its concentration since arresting that truck driver in Ohio. He was an American citizen, but he quickly named names. His contact in Pakistan had ordered him to start organizing a plan to destroy the Brooklyn Bridge.”
Faith gasped. “Oh, my God! You mean these people are still trying to attack us?”
Jess flinched inwardly. Faith had never shown much interest in world news and, for both of them, time had eased the fervent daily quest for any tidbit about terrorism. And since leaving her city life behind, Jess had focused her attention on the stable, and those things that directly involved her.
Howard nodded solemnly. “Yes. According to one article, even the destruction of their headquarters in Afghanistan didn’t slow them down. It merely heightened their motivation to retaliate. The only question is where and when.”
Jess snorted. “I can’t believe a bunch of rag-heads–” She stopped abruptly, startled by Howard’s offended expression. “Uh, sorry. I’m just amazed how a third world country that can barely feed its own population, can find the resources to wage war on other nations.”
“Fervor is the force behind the thinking, Jess. Islamic radicals believe Jihad is the supreme religious duty, and they put it before everything else, including their own well-being. This is the context of the network that has declared war on the western world. To these believers, it is an honor to die for the cause.”
Faith’s disgust curled around her words. “If they’re so religious, why do they think it’s okay to murder thousands of people?”
“There’s a misconception–even amongst Muslims themselves–that Islamic radicalism and Islam are the same thing. The Islamic religion itself isn’t any more violent than other religions. But for the radical sector, any area not yet under Islamic control is considered the enemy, whether it’s here, or the Middle East, or North Africa.”
Jess shivered at the enormity of the description. The wicked fingers of evil had reached across oceans and continents, feeling their way, searching for an opening, slipping into Easton Ridge unhindered.
Both repulsed and intrigued, she wanted to know more. “What exactly is a terrorist cell? I hear the term all the time, but have no clue what it really means.”
“Ahh. . .I’m glad you asked. That’s really what prompted me to do some research. Cell organization goes clear back to Napoleonic times.” He nodded at her surprise. “That’s right, the concept is not new. The basic principle is, that by dividing a large organization into many smaller parts, the amount of information needed by each division is specific only to that group’s mission. Therefore, the parent organization is more likely to survive if one of the components is compromised.”
Jess’s analytical mind warmed to the subject. “Each cell operates individually, without relying on the others, right?”
“Basically, and the functions of the cells can change from one operation to the next. Multi-tasking, as it were.” He looked at his notes. “There are several different kinds of cells: planning or support, sleeper or submarine, and execution. An operations commander sometimes comes in at the last minute to give final instructions, then leaves before the attack.”
Faith shook her head. “I almost wish I didn’t know all this stuff.”
“For most of the population, that would be okay, but you both need to be aware of the gravity of your situation. Samir and his boys didn’t stumble into your lives without thought. He located a chink in the wall, found a way to nudge it until he could get through. He has a purpose, and it isn’t to learn more about riding. He’s driven by the very same passions I described earlier.”
Tension burned across Jess’s shoulders. “Mona said Samir was part of a sleeper cell. Why is it called that?”
“A group of people live here in the States for years, become citizens and acquire a solid, believable background. They blend into our society, keeping low profiles until they are needed.”
“So how does the FBI find them if they’re so invisible?”
“Long, exhausting work. One article stated that over a thousand al Qaeda suspects in the U.S. are being tailed, or are under electronic surveillance. Apparently, many of their names turned up on records found at the training camps in the caves of Afghanistan.”
Faith sounded incredulous. “Why don’t the agents just arrest Samir and the A-Rabs, instead of sneaking around?”
“With a sophisticated network like this, where each group is more or less independent from the others, it would be like stepping on three ants from a subterranean anthill. The only way to catch all the ants is to get to the center of the colony.”
Howard set his notes aside and looked at both women for a minute. “Hard as it will be, you have to carry on your normal routine. If you can do that, you might be key players in averting another 9/11.”
Jess stared out the living room window, feeling totally isolated, imprisoned in a life that had changed without her cognizance. Faith had left without saying goodbye, and Howard’s car had just disappeared down the highway. His words echoed through her head, at once filling her with resolve, then immediately crushing her with their weight. Would she and Faith be able to play-act for the length of time needed to catch the bad guys?
Suddenly, those same bad guys were driving her truck toward the barn. She glanced at her watch–they’d been gone for over five hours. What hateful things had they planned during their absence?
Hafez was unloading the jump poles when Jess arrived, slightly breathless from the brisk walk to the barn.
“Just put them in the center of the outdoor arena. Tomorrow, I’ll show you both how to set up the jumps and take them down. That will be your responsibility at the show on Saturday.”
She caught a brief glance between the two men, then Mustafa bowed slightly.
“Yes, Miss.”
Jess left the workers, and entered the barn. A minute later, Mona knocked on the doorjamb, then stepped into the room. “Working late?”
“I lost a lot of time this past weekend, and we have a horse show on Saturday, as I’m sure you know.”
The agent nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, but I almost forgot.” She grinned. “Well, see you in the morning.”
She disappeared into the depths of the barn, and Jess put her head in her hands and closed her eyes. I have to get my act together, put all the pieces where they belong, or I’ll never be able to pull this off.
The silence in the house felt oppressive. Any other time, Jess would have relished the quiet, snuggling into the privacy of aloneness, but now the atmosphere held ghosts of the day’s visitors. Unable to shake them off, she went out to the front porch and settled into the swing. The soft evening air felt good against her face, and the fading daylight cast a Kinkadian glow over the landscape.
Her tension began to fade, and she stretched out on the thick cushions, enjoying the gentle motion of the swing. Against the darkening sky, stars twinkled in contrast to the moving lights of airplanes circling on the approach to the airport. Exhaustion pressed in on her, weighting her eyelids, and diffusing her worries.
The telephone shrilled from somewhere, and she struggled with the sound, deep in the recesses of her subconscious, then awakened with a start. Confused, she sat up and looked around. The sky had gone pitch black, and the chill in the air felt uncomfortable. The phone rang again and she leaped up. As she reached the door, tires crunched on the gravel driveway, and panic seized her by the throat. Torn between answering the phone, or waiting to see who was out there, she hesitated. The ringing stopped.
She quickly slipped inside the house, and moved to the window, her heart banging against her ribs. A moment later, Howard stepped up onto the porch, and her adrenaline dropped like a skydiver.
She opened the screen door with shaky hands, and Howard’s eyes widened.
“Jess, what’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
“You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were the FBI coming back to drag me away in shackles.”
&nb
sp; “I’ve been calling all the way over here. Where were you?”
“Asleep on the swing.”
She took a deep breath and focused. Tight-fitting blue jeans and a dark plaid sport shirt had replaced Howard’s solemn lawyer attire. He looks even better out of a suit than in one. She chuckled at the Freudian thought.
“A joke to share?”
“No joke, I’m just exhausted. Inappropriate responses to most things.” She smiled. “Okay, I’m ready. What’s next?”
His moustache curled around his grin. “Nothing. Time to relax.”
Chapter 33
Howard’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief, sending a flutter through Jess’s insides. Damn, he looks good! Years of ignoring her own needs faded, and she faced the fact that she wanted him, wanted something more than the safe, solitary life she’d embraced for so long. Had he been thinking about her in the same way?
His smile kindled a spark of hope. “I could use that glass of wine, now.”
She watched the rich color of Merlot swirl around the bottom of the glass, then rush toward the rim. A deep breath did nothing to calm the jittery sensation in the pit of her stomach.
A minute later, he touched his glass to hers, and took a sip before relaxing back on the couch. The circumstances surrounding his visit never came up–instead, he talked about the hunting lodge, the press of business during the imminent elk hunting season, and his involvement in a community charity auction planned for late November. Jess sat close to him, listening to every word, hearing the pride in his voice, seeing the confident bearing of a man who’d planned and done the things he’d always wanted. What was the difference between them? She’d also worked hard to attain her own dreams–had her goals been important enough? Or had she just skimmed along on inertia and luck? The events of the last few weeks were proof that she’d simply assumed she would prevail in anything she tried.
And what about the future? Did she have a plan? Had she learned anything from this nightmare?
