by Robin Mahle
From the doorway of his office, Jay spotted Owen approaching. The two smiled and he waved him inside.
“Sounds great, Dan. We’ll get it done. Thanks. You too. Bye.” Jay placed his phone on his desk and turned his attention to Owen. “I have to hold his hand every time we do an upgrade.”
“I feel you, man. Oh, thanks again for dinner the other night. We had a great time.” Owen’s face appeared buoyant as he sat across from Jay’s desk.
“Absolutely. It’s great having you two over. You look pleased with something. What’s going on?”
“I just signed Nova Investments. Full package. Two years.” Owen laced his fingers behind his head in triumph.
Jay’s brow creased for an instant before he returned an approving smile to his colleague. “Well, that’s great. I didn’t realize you’d been working on them.” He had approached Nova Investments in the recent past, so it came as a surprise that they’d opted to sign with Owen. It also came as a surprise that Owen was aware of this previous association, yet decided to pursue them anyway. In the world of big commissions, getting stabbed in the back was to be expected, and while Jay didn’t feel Owen had been his Judas, he felt affronted just the same.
“I know you and their security management team didn’t hit it off well initially. Tom over there did mention that to me. I hope you don’t think I tried to steal them from you.”
“Not at all. I’m just happy they signed with the firm. That’s what it’s really all about, right?” Jay lowered his feet to the floor and sat upright in his chair. “I’m happy for you, really.” He checked the time. “Hey, you know what? Why don’t you let me take you to lunch to celebrate?”
“Sure. That’d be great.” Owen pushed to his feet. “Let me just go shoot off a couple of emails. Meet you in the lobby in ten?”
“See you then.” Jay watched Owen walk away and continue along the hall. Lacy’s opinion of Owen had been discussed ad nauseum and Jay never really understood why it was she felt the way she did. He knew it was part of the reason why she left, even if she wouldn’t admit it. But now, seeing his face, he wondered, had she been right? He’d worked for Argus Solutions going on eight years and was one of the top salesmen and he knew he should be happy for Owen. But there was a reason Jay and the security management team at Nova didn’t hit it off. And that reason was what really bothered him.
2
Ferran Basara switched off the light in his back office and closed the door, returning to the front of the shop. It was past six in the evening and his wife would worry if he didn’t come home soon, but Izzah hadn’t come in to help today and it had been a good day for business—a very good day—and so he thought she would forgive his tardiness.
The Basaras owned a small electronics shop on the corner of Haven and Centre Street in suburban Baltimore. Having emigrated from Bahrain to the United States in 1994, their children were born here and they’d built their lives here. Ferran even considered taking the exam to become a US citizen so he could be one like his son and daughter.
He began to secure the cabinets where they kept the smart phones and tablets, and turned off the televisions, which aired cricket most of the time.
How they had found out about him, found out where he lived, Ferran still didn’t know. They’d approached him weeks ago and the exchange the other day still haunted him. He had heard nothing since then and tried to behave as if all was perfectly normal. Perhaps it had been his brother who still lived in Bahrain or maybe a former acquaintance. Whoever it was sent the devil to his door and there was a price to pay for the sins of his past. When he was a younger, naïve man, Ferran had fallen in with people who he believed wanted the same thing as he did. Known as the uprising of dignity, 1990s Bahrain was in turmoil. Ferran thought his cohorts wanted the democratic reforms that brought about the uprising. Instead, these people made it necessary for him to flee his country. But what was done was done, and if he had turned down the unspeakable request made of him two weeks ago, he and his family would suffer by way of deportation at best, death at worst. Neither seemed practical and so he complied.
As he surveyed his shop and considered the life he’d built, he wondered if they would again come and ask him to fulfill another task for which there would be only one acceptable answer. There had to be a way to keep him and his family safe if they came back. Ferran began to consider a scenario that would make it impossible to continue life as it was today. Could he find a way to go to the authorities and warn them? The bomb was made. The deed was done. He would be the one to go to prison, but his family just might live. Perhaps that was the only solution to consider. Living with the guilt would become unbearable, more so than life in prison, he believed. At least his children would be given a chance to thrive in this country he truly loved.
Ferran’s cell phone buzzed in his pants pocket. “Yes? Of course. I’m on my way home now. I will see you very soon.” As he ended the call, the front door opened and a man walked in.
He didn’t know the name of this man, but the look in the man’s eyes told Ferran everything he needed to know about his unexpected visitor. There would be no going to the authorities. There would be no going anywhere now.
The man raised his gun, fitted a silencer, and fired a single, quiet shot. Ferran crumpled to the floor.
♦♦♦
The Merrick home was deemed grand by most measures. The house in the luxury neighborhood of Annandale, twenty miles outside of D.C., offered the illusion of security by way of an imposing entrance gate into the community. Lacy was driving through that gate right now in her late-model Lexus SUV. She was no stranger to the finer things in life, not since leaving Cornell and starting at a large data analysis firm. She left there at the ripe old age of twenty-six at Jay’s insistence to work for the upstart cyber-security firm where he’d just been hired on. Nine years, marriage, and two kids had passed since then, and Lacy had never known a less fortunate life. Not a spoiled woman, she valued what she had, but it made the decision to work for the FBI an easy one because money wasn’t an issue. And it had been where her heart truly lay. She’d wanted to do something for her country and yet wasn’t the gun-slinging field agent-type and so the civilian post suited her well. On Jay’s salary alone, they could easily afford their two high-end cars and the 6,000-square-foot home, which rested on nearly an acre of land. The same home upon whose driveway she had now arrived.
Her eagerness to tell the family the news of an impending promotion had given way the moment she was greeted by her children. “Hello, babies.” She wrapped her arms around the youngest, four-year-old Jackson, but it wasn’t long before his older sister began to feel left out and pushed her way inside the embrace. Olivia was their six-year-old negotiator, always angling for a way to get what she wanted. “Where’s Celeste?” Lacy asked.
“In the kitchen, I think.” Olivia was the first to answer.
“Let me go and say hi to her and I’ll see you two in a minute.” Lacy hung her purse on the wall hook in the foyer and headed for the kitchen. “Evening, Celeste. How was your day?”
Celeste was somewhat on in years but had been with the family since Olivia was born. She took care of the children as if they were her own. And since she had none of her own, it seemed to work out well. “I had a good day. The children were well-behaved as usual.”
Lacy opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a Diet Coke. “Oh, I’m sure they must’ve given you some trouble.” She popped open the can and gulped down half of it. A self-described Diet Coke fiend, she made no apologies. “Listen, why don’t you let me finish up dinner and you can have the evening off?”
Celeste turned away from the oven. “Are you sure? Is everything all right?”
“I realize it’s an unusual request.” Lacy chuckled. “I just feel like it tonight. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all. In fact, I’ll enjoy a few extra hours and use them to catch up on my shows.” Celeste pulled the dishtowel from her shoul
der and rested it on the counter.
“I’m happy to bring you a plate, if you’d rather have dinner in your room tonight.”
“Thank you. That would be very nice. Don’t I feel spoiled?” Celeste bared her warm smile and retreated to the guest casita attached at the back of the home where she had a kitchenette and small bathroom.
Lacy quickly familiarized herself with the status of the meal preparations and began to take over. It wasn’t long before she heard Jay’s car pulling into the garage. She glanced at the time and saw that he was right on schedule. 6:30 on the dot. Lacy smiled at the thought of revealing her news.
“Are you cooking?” Jay walked into the kitchen, loosening his tie, and raised a brow at the sight of Lacy at the stove. “Is Celeste sick or something?” He approached her and gave her a tender kiss on the cheek.
“No, she isn’t sick. I just thought it’d be nice to cook for my family.”
Jay dipped a spoon into the white sauce and sampled it.
“Well? How does it taste?” She had to ask because Jay seemed to fall silent for too long, giving rise to her insecurities as a chef.
“Great. It’s great.” He patted her on the backside. “Where are the kiddos?”
Lacy pursed her lips and sampled the sauce herself before adding a dash more salt to it. “In the living room. Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes. Could you ask them to wash up, please?”
“Kids!” Jay yelled as he made his way into the living room. “Mom says to wash up for dinner.”
Grumbles and groans sounded throughout the expansive family room where the children rested comfortably on the sofa.
A loud clap from Jay and they jumped to their feet and hustled out. “Come on now. You heard me.” Jay continued to the sofa and retrieved his phone, taking a brief moment’s rest. No missed calls, no voicemails, and only one email and it was spam. He stared at the device as though expecting it to bring him some sort of good news that would raise his spirits. Jay had felt Owen nipping at his heels and he knew the Nova account would have secured his place as highest earner. He’d already been managing an account from one of their competitors and maybe that was the reason they’d chosen to sign with Owen, but the other thoughts were the ones gnawing away at him.
It was really no secret why he hadn’t been chosen to be the account manager for Nova. A major retail developer who owned several malls across the country, they were in the process of updating their security software and Jay had put in a bid. Things seemed to be going well enough until their man in charge, the head of security who would be awarding the contract, began to rub him the wrong way. He had been working with them for at least a week when it happened. Tom Neville, their Vice President of Cyber Security, asked what it was like to have an FBI agent for a wife. Jay was taken aback. First of all, how the hell did this guy know that Lacy worked for the FBI? She wasn’t an agent, but that didn’t matter. He’d asked Neville what made him think she was an FBI agent and, of course, all Neville could do was stumble over his words, backpedaling as though he knew he shouldn’t have had that information, as if it had simply slipped from his tongue. He ended up making some sort of excuse that he’d heard it in passing from a colleague. Well, Jay knew that was a pile of horseshit because that kind of information wasn’t easily obtained and only Owen and a few others of his colleagues knew it. They wouldn’t have mentioned anything. At least, he hadn’t thought so. But then again, Owen swooped right in and persuaded Nova to use them and would get the nice six-figure commission for it.
“You coming in for dinner?” Lacy stood in the foyer, peering into the living room at Jay.
“Yeah.” He pushed off the sofa and plastered on a smile. “How was your day?”
“Well, I do have some news…”
♦♦♦
The Baltimore police arrived on scene shortly after Mrs. Basara made the call. Their daughter drove her mother to the shop when Ferran failed to arrive home and was not answering his cell phone. Izzah worked part-time at the shop, after her classes at the local community college, but today, she’d had other plans and didn’t go in. Plans with a boy she hadn’t yet introduced to her parents, which certainly would have irritated Ferran.
The moment the two approached the shop door, they knew something was wrong. They looked at one another and proceeded to check the door. It was still unlocked, and yet, no lights were on inside. Izzah opened it first. “Stay here, Mom.” She stepped inside with caution and found the lights. The fluorescents flickered on and her eyes adjusted. She moved further inside. “Just give me a moment, Mother.” Izzah held out her hand. As she moved closer to the counter, a guttural scream ripped from her throat. She trembled at the sight of her father lying on the floor in a pool of blood, eyes wide open with a hole in his head large enough to see through.
Mrs. Basara ran to her daughter, but Izzah tried to hold her back. “No, Mom, don’t. Don’t look. Daddy’s gone. We have to call the police.”
Detective Coleman arrived soon after the responding officer called dispatch. The body had remained untouched and he noticed the family still huddled near the entrance, distraught. “Who’s the responding officer?”
“I am.” A man in his early twenties approached the detective.
“I was nearby when the call came in.” The officer glanced at the body. “As you can see, he was shot in the head.”
Coleman wasn’t blind and anyone could’ve seen the hole in that man’s head, but he brushed off his irritation. “Anything stolen?”
“No. Nothing at all.” The officer seemed to understand that this was a fact well worth noting, especially in a shop that sold televisions, cell phones, and tablets. “The register wasn’t even opened.”
Detective Coleman nodded and began to approach the family. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m Detective Coleman.”
“I’m Izzah and this is my mother, Huma Basara.” She gazed again at her father, his lifeless body turning grey. “Who would do this to my father?” Izzah began to cry.
“That’s what I’m here to find out, miss.”
“Detective?” An officer appeared from the back of the store. “Can you come take a look at this?”
Coleman noticed the officer’s look of concern. “I’ll be right back.” He stepped away from the grieving family and headed toward the back, following the young cop into a small office that seemed to double as storage space. “What is it? What’d you find?”
The officer moved toward Ferran’s desk and opened the pencil drawer. “What does this look like to you, sir?”
Coleman creased his brow and moved in to see what it was that had piqued the officer’s curiosity. He peered inside the desk, and although littered with paperclips and sticky notes, one thing did stand out.
“Is that what I think it is, sir?” the officer asked.
“Looks like a phone that’s been opened up.” He looked at the officer. “Don’t they sell and repair phones here?”
“Yes, sir, but look at this.” The officer used his pinky finger to pinpoint his concerns. “This one’s been wired to transmit only. It doesn’t look complete, though. Like maybe this was one that didn’t work correctly.”
Coleman stared at the insides of the cell phone. “How do you know this?” He knew what the officer was implying and eyed him with suspicion. He wasn’t about to go accusing this family of being involved in some sort of terrorist activity on the basis of what appeared to be broken cell phone parts found in a cell phone store.
“I did two tours in Afghanistan as an EOD Specialist. I was on the bomb squad.”
An understanding suddenly crossed Detective Coleman’s face and he nodded in consideration. “Okay. Let’s call in the Feds.”
♦♦♦
Owen swirled the melting ice cube inside his glass of the best scotch money could buy while he sat in front of the fireplace. Seduced by the flames and comforted by its warmth, he imagined what was going through Jay Merrick’s head right about n
ow. He didn’t believe he was a man who could easily succumb to paranoia, but the look on Jay’s face today as they sat in the restaurant discussing the latest baseball scores suggested he was being judged. That somehow Jay had the right to judge him. He knew as well as anyone the cutthroat business they were in and yet Owen had gotten the better of his colleague. “Someone had to knock him down a peg.” He tossed back a swig, the melting ice resting against his upper lip as the scotch coated his tongue.
Some people just didn’t get along and was that Owen’s problem if the guys over at Nova didn’t like Jay?
The door to the study opened and Julianne stepped inside. She tried hard to live up to her carefully crafted but plastic persona and Owen was a big part of that. “How you doing, babe? You need anything?” She didn’t have any children, although maintained hope that Owen might want more someday. His ex-wife retained custody of their seven-year-old son, who rarely came to stay with Owen and his younger wife.
“I’m fine. I don’t need anything, thanks.” He glanced down at his empty glass. “Maybe just another drink.”
Julianne smiled and retrieved his glass. “You should be happy about today, but instead you sit here staring at the fire when I could easily keep you warm.”
“It’s just—I think some of the other sales people are pissed that I got that account.”
“I’m sure. But then all of you make your living off of commission, so screw them, right? You’re all there to do a job and you just happened to do it better this time.”
Owen smiled at his beautiful wife. “Thank you. I knew you’d understand.”
She returned the smile and with his empty glass in hand, began to leave the room.
“Jules?”
“Yes?” She stopped in her tracks and turned to him again.
