by Toni Leland
“Oh. . .Sure.”
She willed her fingers to stop trembling while she wrote.
He accepted the receipt and smiled. “This is such a nice place. My family has enjoyed it.”
He turned toward the door.
Jess couldn’t move. He was going to leave, and no one was going to stop him. No, they’ll get him outside, or after he leaves the property. That hadn’t been the plan. but obviously, she’d never known the real plan.
Samir turned back, his smile gone. His cold gaze speared through her.
“Allaah will prevail, Jessica. Know it in your heart, and you will find peace. Allaahu akbar.”
He bowed, opened the door, and disappeared into the barn.
Tension braided through her emotional turmoil, launching an attack on her dance with reality. In the big picture, she’d been a chess piece. Anger rolled like thunderclouds through her chest. She exhaled sharply and leaned on the desk, shuddering with the reaction. The shuffle of feet outside the door notched up her pulse, and another surge of adrenaline flooded her system.
Faith scurried in and closed the door, her face a grotesque mask of fear.
“Jessie, what’s going on? They’ve all left!”
“Yes, I know. And I’m sure as hell going to find out why!”
She moved to the window again. Faith crowded up against her arm like a frightened child.
Across the arena, the audience had settled in for the second half of the show, but the crowd had thinned. The undercover people must have left the grounds. Jess focused on the food tent. Zada stood with Dania, who’d already changed out of her riding clothes, but Samir was not with them. The Mercedes was no longer amongst the parked cars.
Jess grasped Faith’s arm, trying to appear confident. “You go on out and get started. I’ll find out what happened.”
Faith didn’t look reassured, but nodded. When she’d gone, Jess paced the room, gathering her wits and playing out scenarios. Her solitude didn’t last long. The door opened, and the three agents entered.
Jess drew herself up to her full height and folded her arms across her padded chest, narrowing her eyes as she faced the team.
“Exactly what the hell is going on? Why didn’t you guys arrest him? I saw the other two barrel out of here just as I was getting ready to meet Samir!” Her voice rose, and she struggled to control her anger. “I almost lost it!”
Peterson moved closer, holding up his hand in a conciliatory gesture. “Calm down. Everything is fine.” He smiled. “In fact, everything is better than fine.”
The other two agents nodded, but their calm expressions fed her fury.
“No! You tell me what’s going on! You have us jumping through hoops, watching our backs, frightened half out of our wits–and you say calm down? Bull–shit!”
Kerr’s usual surly attitude simmered just beneath the surface of his speech. “Listen, Jess, you girls did a great job, but your part is over. Everything went according to the most recent plan. All along, our preference was to keep the situation away from a public venue, reduce the risk of collateral damage. We didn’t have time to tell you about the change.” He paused and looked her straight in the eye. “Your safety depended on it.”
Her anger ebbed, and she felt ill. She turned away, hearing the disgust in her tone.
“Fine, then just get the hell out of here and leave us alone now.”
Their feet shuffled as they left the room, but a second later, Mona’s voice drifted into Jess’s battered thoughts.
“It’ll be soon–then you’ll understand.”
Unable to remain standing for another moment, Jess dropped into a chair. The huge flush of adrenaline had seeped into every fiber of her body, and its sudden departure left her drained. Her brain went on strike and she sat like a statue, staring at the floor. In the barn aisle and outdoors, she heard the traditional sounds of a horse show in progress. Loudspeaker. Applause. Laughter and shouting. Voices. The sounds of her world. Sounds that slowly moved into her thoughts, and began to ease the strain.
As her physical strength returned, the finality of her personal drama clarified. It was over. She could put the fear behind her now. Life could resume as usual. Or could it?
Coming so close to the enemy had given her a new perspective on what was important–and what was not. Her breath caught as she considered the possibility that Samir and his fellow fanatics would succeed in their malignant quest to annihilate the American belief in freedom. What if the FBI had misjudged the terrorists? It wouldn’t be the first time rebels had slipped through the net. A Damoclean sword hung over everything Jess had ever cherished.
Another thought occurred to her, and a shiver ran across her shoulders. She and Faith might be liabilities, details to be purged. Howard’s lesson in terrorism resonated through her brain. Samir’s cell was only one of many. Destroy it, and another would take its place, like the tide washing away footprints in the sand.
She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddery breath. The Kevlar vest chafed her ribs, reminding her that the immediate danger had passed. She slipped into the bathroom and peeled off the hateful thing, flinging it to the floor in the corner. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she cringed at the dark circles under her tired eyes. When was the last time she’d really slept? Who knew? Who cared? Tomorrow, she and Faith could start over.
A horse whinnied, and she grinned. Tomorrow, she had a date with Danny.
Oh, shit! The poisoned water! She dashed out into the aisle and headed toward Buster’s stall. She snatched open the door, and stopped short. Horror flooded her chest. The big horse’s head swung up quickly, and he peered at her curiously. He flicked his tail at an imaginary fly. Water dribbled from his lips.
Chapter 44
No! No! No!”
Jess’s wail echoed through the huge barn.
Buster’s calm attitude disappeared, and he skittered nervously around his stall. Jess tried to get close, but he evaded her. She squinted, trying to see better in the dim light.
“Why is it so damned dark in here?”
She stopped short. At midday, the stall should have been bright from the sun through the window. Where is the window? She stepped back into the aisle to look at the nameplate on the door. McKenzie. She almost threw up. Buster was in the wrong stall.
She pulled open the heavy door of the adjoining stall, and moved to the corner. The water bucket was empty.
Behind her, Mona’s voice sounded matter-of-fact.
“I took care of it.”
Jess’s pulse thundered in her ears, and she felt wobbly in the knees. “Thank God.”
The agent smiled. “You did real good today. You’d make a good undercover cop.”
The teasing comment cut through the tension, and Jess relaxed. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. Now can you please tell me what’s going on?”
“A couple of agents are sweeping the other arena and the carriage house.”
Jess cocked her head. “You think they might have left some incriminating evidence behind?”
Mona’s expression sent a prickle of apprehension up the back of Jess’s neck.
“No. . .well, they could have, but it’s not likely. They’re highly-trained operatives–they don’t usually make those kinds of mistakes.” She glanced down at her hands, then continued. “We want to make sure they didn’t rig up any explosives.”
“Oh my God, should we move the horses out?”
“No, the barn’s clean. Our team moved in as soon as the suspects drove the van out of here. Your house is okay, too.”
Jess’s thoughts staggered at the idea. She gazed around the beautiful barn that had been her life for the past six years. A place filled with hope. A flashback smashed into her brain. The Trade Towers, billowing black smoke, spewing debris and humanity. Adrenaline poured into her system faster than her nerves could handle it, and she started to shake.
The days, hours, and minutes of fear swooped down, battering her without mercy. The light be
gan to fade, and voices echoed somewhere in the far reaches of her mind as she sagged toward the ground. Strong arms circled her body, and she leaned against the sturdy woman who’d been beside her from the very beginning of the nightmare.
Samir peered through the tiny crack at the side of the window shade. Heavy humidity hung in the late afternoon light, casting a dreamlike quality to the trees and overgrown shrubs in the neglected front yard of the old farmhouse. It might have been a nice place at one time, but not as elegant as Easton Ridge. Irritation needled through his thoughts. Jessica Rayder’s arrogant, typically American independence had interfered with his plans. No wonder she was an unmarried woman. What man would want to play second fiddle to that sharp mind and unfeminine personality?
Samir’s gaze moved from the yard to the dilapidated fence surrounding a pasture of waist-high brown weeds. At the near corner of the field, an ancient oak towered, lifeless except for the thick green tangle of kudzu crawling over its trunk. Long, suffocating vines dripped from the bare limbs, reaching out and hooking every available part of the rusty farm machinery parked below. At the far corner of the property, tall grass and weeds almost obscured two abandoned trucks and an old wood-sided station wagon. He squinted, trying to make out details of the vehicles, but they were well camouflaged.
He clucked his tongue and stepped away from the window. These Americans had no pride of ownership, no concept of the wealth in their own country. In his homeland, one-tenth of this property would be worth a fortune, but available to few. He stared down at the red beads in his hand, his fingers moving lovingly over each smooth orb. Soon he would be an instrument of Allaah, showing the arrogant, self-centered infidels of this country who was boss, showing up their weakness against the will of the Almighty.
Hafez appeared beside him. “I fed the horse, as you instructed.” He grinned, revealing crooked yellow teeth punctuated by black spots. “By now, the lady will be screaming her lungs out.”
Samir turned away, repulsed by the man’s bad breath and sour body odor. Soap and water cost nothing–there was no excuse for a filthy body. He took a measured breath. It couldn’t be helped. Someone else chose the workers. They were well trained and zealous, but still basically peasants with nothing to lose in the fight for the Sword of Islam. They would be martyrs and heroes–the ultimate reward for true believers.
Moving the window shade aside with one finger, Samir scanned the yard again. The peculiar light of late afternoon had disappeared, and dusk approached. He glanced at the Rolex gleaming from beneath the edge of his black windbreaker, seeing only the time–not the fruits of a successful life in America.
He turned back to Hafez and Mustafa. “When did you talk to Mounir?”
“Just before we left the farm. The members were in place.”
Samir frowned. The team leader should have called by now.
“Something is wrong.” He began to pace the room, his fingers feverishly rolling the prayer beads. “We will wait ten more minutes.”
His two companions said nothing.
He moved to a different window, and peered at the other side of the property. Hafez’s van was parked next to an old barn that leaned precariously. Samir’s Mercedes was inside, out of view. Nerves on edge, he moved into the kitchen and surveyed the back of the property. In the waning light, he could make out the dim outlines of an ancient privy and a low-roofed shed.
Though not as large as Easton Ridge, this remote farmstead provided good security, hidden deep in the midst of property lines camouflaged by mature trees and undergrowth. But more important, it gave him with the means for a contingency plan.
He returned to the living room and faced the men. Their expressions did not change while he spoke.
“The plan is compromised. Something has happened and we must leave. Prepare yourselves.”
He pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and unwrapped it while he walked toward the kitchen. The draft from the screen door sent the fine cellophane fluttering to the cracked linoleum floor.
Jess watched the last car disappear down the driveway. The final hour of classes had been a blur, and weariness saturated every muscle. She wanted to crawl into her bed, burrow under the covers, and let unconsciousness claim her. She sighed. Sleep wouldn’t be the refuge she craved. Her dreams, both asleep and awake, would be dominated for a long time by images of the day’s drama.
An arm slipped around her shoulders, and Howard’s voice warmed the hug.
“I suspect you won’t have any trouble falling asleep tonight.”
She managed a weak smile. “You must be a mind-reader–I was just planning that very event.”
“Are you okay, Jess? You can’t imagine how hard it was for me to stay in the audience, especially when Samir came out of the barn and drove away.”
“I know. I just kept waiting for the agents to storm into the office, thinking any second it would be over. I don’t know how I kept my thoughts from showing.” She shrugged. “Maybe I didn’t. Maybe he just didn’t notice. Or care.”
She leaned into Howard’s shoulder and closed her eyes. “I am so glad it’s over.”
“I’m not so sure it is over. There’ll be some sort of wrap-up. The Feds aren’t just going to say, ‘Okay, thanks, goodbye’.” He squeezed her shoulder. “C’mon, let’s help Faith clean up the arena.”
Inside the ring, Faith was hefting poles and standards. Her face lit up as they approached.
“Wow, was that exciting or what?”
Howard grinned. “Which event are we talking about?”
She laughed. “All of them! The A-Rabs are outta here forever, and my girls did a fabulous job today.”
Jess shook her head in wonder. Faith’s excursion into fear seemed to have carried her to a new level of confidence. I wish I felt as free and refreshed. A twinge skipped through her heart. The frightening episode was over, but she’d never be the same–too many raw nerves and emotions had been exposed during her guided tour through terrorism. For the first time in her life, she felt vulnerable and unsure of herself.
The physical work of clean-up energized her and, with three of them working together, they cleared the arena in twenty minutes.
Mona emerged from the barn, her brisk stride and sharp expression seeming out of place in the new, relaxed atmosphere.
“How’s everybody holding up?”
Howard shook his head. “Mona, we’re done here. These girls need some rest. If you have questions, they’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry, but you all need to stay right here for a while, for your own protection.”
Faith’s voice rang with frustration. “Mona, I want to go home! Now!”
“When the situation is clear, I’ll let you know.”
Jess frowned. “What situation? What are you talking about? Our part is finished.”
“Sorry, Jess. This is the way it has to be. I can’t tell you anything else.”
On the back stoop of the house, Samir took a deep drag on the exquisite Habano, then removed a small picture of Dania from his pocket. He gazed at the lovely face, her dark eyes filled with childish delight. Habibi, ana behibek. Allaahu akbar. His heart contracted painfully and he exhaled slowly, pressing the picture against his chest and gazing up at the pitch-black sky. A new moon hid somewhere up there, completing the cover of darkness. Behind him inside the house, he heard shuffling feet, and the low voices of his companions as they prepared to leave.
Dry grass rustled in the heavy silence. Samir’s senses snapped into high alert. He held his breath, waiting. Another soft crunch and rustle. In his peripheral line of sight, he caught a movement. He slowly reached for the gun in his waistband. A black-masked face came around the corner, and a fat raccoon lifted its nose as it caught the human scent. Samir exhaled sharply. The animal stared at him for a second, then scuttled into a hole beneath the house.
Pulse jangling in his ears, Samir returned to the house. “Yalla. We go now. Hafez, you first.”
Ha
fez stepped through the front door, and a brilliant flood of light outlined his silhouette. A bullhorn roared through the night. “This is the FBI. Raise your hands where we can see them!” Hafez stumbled backwards into the house.
Samir held up his hand. “Be calm. I have a surprise for them. I will return in a moment.”
He slipped out the back door and looked at the black sky.
“Allaahu akbar.
Chapter 45
Jess woke with a start and blinked at the dim light. Confusion rambled through her head as she tried to remember why she was sleeping on the couch. Howard’s and Mona’s voices drifted on a chilly draft, bringing clarity to the moment. The ache of tension grumbled through every muscle in her body as she struggled to sit up.
Mona came into the room, a frown creasing her forehead. “Where’s Faith?”
“Asleep in the bedroom. What’s going on?”
The agent dropped into an armchair, and leaned her head against the back. “It’s over. We got ’em.”
Weariness fell away like a chunk of iceberg, and Jess leaped up from the couch. “Yesss! Hallelujah!”
A second later, Faith stumbled into the room, her cheeks flushed with sleep and confusion. “What’s all the shoutin’ about?”
Jess felt giddy. “Tell us what happened, Mona–how did you catch them?”
“I still can’t give you any details, but I’m sure you’ll hear about it before too long.” She smiled wearily and stood up. “Faith, you ready to go home? One of my guys will follow to see you get there safely.”
Jess’s heartbeat skipped. “Why does she need an escort? You just said it was over.”
“We can’t be too careful–you never know.”
After they’d gone, Jess looked at Howard. His face showed traces of weariness, and she felt sudden remorse. She’d thought only of herself and her own exhaustion, forgetting the fact he’d been with her every step of the way, probably feeling the same fear about the future.
She stepped up and laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you for being here, for supporting us.”
