by J. M. Madden
They were both silent for a long moment, each lost in their own thoughts.
"The cell has direct links through social media to known Islamic State operatives, but they've stayed quiet about this particular attack that al Fareq botched. Some of our experts think al Fareq was chafing under his father's thumb and decided to make a name for himself with a big splashy suicide, but it didn't work out that way. He didn't die when he drove that truck down the sidewalk at the art fair, then crashed into the Center of Science and Industry building. A security guard tased him when Mozi tried to shoot people outside the museum as he escaped."
Parker snorted. "Great for his ego, I’m sure, being brought down by a security guard like that."
"Well, I don't care about his ego, just the fact that his plans were botched. There were injuries, but it could have been much worse. But al Fareq is realizing how screwed he is and last week he wrote his father a letter pleading for help. We're monitoring all of this, of course, as well as all of his contacts outside."
"It sounds like you have everything under control."
"Not exactly. The father, along with the rest of his cell, has dropped off the grid. We can't find him. Any of them. One of the witnesses in the case has turned up dead, beheaded. Mozi’s father, Ali al Fareq, is apparently trying to silence anyone that saw his son get out of the truck. Or just plain unbalance the prosecution's case against his son. Your job will be to protect the prosecutor and if the situation presents itself, take out the cell. You have carte blanche to eliminate everyone connected to this little party."
Parker choked out a laugh. "You're not asking for much."
"I know this is a lot to ask of you, but things are heating up in the states. All of these little cells are honing their skills, possibly in preparation of a nationwide, simultaneous attack. We can't have it. We've been authorized by the highest level of government to make these cells go away, any way we can, but if we're caught, they'll disavow all knowledge of what we were doing."
"What?" He stalked across the room. "You've got to be kidding. Why the fuck would I sign up for this? It's a suicide mission."
Lambert sighed on the other end. "I know it feels like that, Quinn, but you have one of the best records of any SEAL I've seen in the past twenty years. You survived more dead end situations than I've seen any other man survive, and single-handedly brought down more terrorist cells than any two squads put together. You have a nose for this stuff and I wouldn't push you to get out there if I didn't think you could handle it."
"What kind of back-up will I have?"
"Nothing official. If you get into a pickle I might be able to have someone help you out. No guarantees."
"Fuck," Parker breathed. "This really is a suicide mission. The money is nice but not if I'm not going to be here to spend it. This is a no-go for me, Lambert. You're going to have to find another lamb to lead to slaughter."
"I need you to reconsider, Quinn. Your country needs you to do this."
Anger swirled through his gut. "Fuck the patriotic bullshit, Greg. I gave everything to this country for thirteen years of my life. I'm not going to give it my death as well. Some other, younger kid looking for glory can do that."
"I need you on this, Quinn," Lambert snapped. "I have other men but they're scattered across the country, doing jobs just like this one. I have an immediate need for coverage, and you are the only man for the job."
Parker shook his head. "I don't understand why you think that. I know for a fact there are other SEALs out there that would love to do this. I'm not the only man for the job."
Greg sighed heavily on the other end of the line. "The prosecuting attorney on the case is Andromeda Pierce."
Shock rolled through Parker and he went still, all of the anger suddenly rolling out of him.
Andromeda.
The years rolled back and he could see her in his mind's eye, long silky dark hair swinging over her shoulder, golden leopard’s eyes glinting with intelligence. The last time he'd seen her she had dumped him, then walked away as if she hadn't a care in the world and hadn't just ripped his heart out.
"That's dirty, Lambert."
"I know, Quinn. I'm sorry. If I could have anyone else do this, I would, but you're it for now. It's surprisingly hard finding retired SEALs of your caliber."
Parker shook his head at the ridiculous compliment. "Send me the information and I'll catch a flight out tonight."
"It's on your front doorstep. I'll be in touch, Quinn."
Parker flew Lambert the bird and the older man chuckled as he hung up.
Chapter 2
The silence in the office eventually made her look up. Oh, damn. Had everyone gone home?
Vaguely she remembered Janie calling out a 'later', but she’d been so absorbed in this file that Andromeda couldn't even remember if she'd looked up or waved.
It wasn't like she hadn't read the file before. She had. Many times, in fact, but it drew her back time and again. Each time she cracked it open she had to look at the list of children's names on the upper right-hand corner, clipped there exactly for that reason. She knew she needed to regard them as victims, but for some reason with this case she hadn't been able to find that professional distance. Every child was as familiar to her as if he or she were part of Andromeda’s own family. Liam Johnson had loved Legos and building things. As had Noah Green. Lucas had been Noah's friend, there at the Christmas Parade just to go with his buddy to the Children's Expression Workshop. Lily and Aria, twins with curly hair and big brown eyes, had just moved into the area. Their mother had thought the Columbus Parade would be a great way to learn about the city. Auburn haired Charlotte was a little older, almost ten, and she'd been excited to be one of the returning helpers for the Children's Workshop. Ethan was the son of the woman that ran the workshop and he was a bright, smiling, well-grounded child. Muhammed wouldn't have been there at all if his father hadn't had to work that day. His sitter had thought it would be a nice excursion for the two of them.
Nine children gone in the blink of an eye. Some of their siblings and parents had been injured as well, but this particular group of children had been sitting at a table together, working on a Christmas art project. If the semi had veered to the left or right just a few feet, it would have missed their table, but the driver had targeted them specifically. Not those children individually, just a group of children in general.
Now, they had a chance to prosecute the vile human being that had planned the attack, assuming Mozi al Fareq valued his life over his family’s honor.
Mozi had tried to commit a similar attack at the Columbus Art Fair just two months ago. He'd gotten his Commercial Driver’s License and been hired on at a small transport company based in Springfield, Ohio, about sixty miles away. Mozi's employer had had no qualms about hiring the man. There'd been nothing on his resume to send up a flag and all of his references had checked out. The employees he'd worked with said that he was a quiet guy, but happy to have a job to help out his family. They never expected him to disappear with a truck and try to commit mass murder.
The terroristic MO of the Art Fair attack was very similar to the Christmas Parade attack; so similar, in fact that the prosecutor's office believed the two incidents were connected and they were doing their damnedest to prosecute the hell out of the case. If Mozi wanted to go to court for the Art Fair attack, they would do it, but Andromeda was still holding out hope that he would accept the plea agreement they'd sent his lawyer, and give them what they needed to prosecute both cases.
If Mozi gave them the details about the parade attack as well as who had perpetrated it, details about the terror ring he was involved in, he would get a more lenient sentence in his own case. As it stood, Andromeda's case was damn near air tight. She had a handful of witnesses, as well as footage of Mozi driving the truck on a traffic cam downtown before the fair.
If he was smart he would take the plea agreement and start singing like a bird. It was up to him though.
Androm
eda pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the tiredness in her bones. They were getting close to going to court and she'd been putting in more hours than any of the other prosecutors. Not because she had to, but because she wanted justice for the children that had been targeted. They'd been at a damn art fair, for God's sake. A place where they should not have had to worry about their safety. Same with the kids that had died at the Christmas parade.
No one had died at the art fair, but she was prosecuting Mozi for 32 counts of attempted murder, terroristic threats, inducing panic, criminal assault, criminal trespass, and a slew of other violations. She was throwing everything she could think of at him. If convicted he would be serving several life sentences.
These terrorist incidents were happening more and more often, and the perpetrators didn't seem to care who they hurt.
This was a common refrain in her brain and she needed to get out of it. Closing the physical file she crossed to the file cabinet and locked it inside. Then she returned to her laptop and shut it down as well, slid it into the gray suede sleeve, closed the magnetic flap and put it into her leather messenger bag at her side. She straightened her desk, dropping pens and clips where they needed to be. There were a few pieces of outgoing mail she needed to drop onto her assistant's desk on the way out.
Slipping her arms into her hip length brown leather coat, she looked out the window at the gray sky. It wasn't raining at the moment, but it had been on and off all day. Such crappy weather. Matched her mood perfectly.
Andromeda shouldered her bag and grabbed up the mail and her keyring. Turning, she locked her office door behind her as she left and set the mail on Janie's desk. She scanned the office as she walked toward the elevator, but it seemed completely quiet. And lonely. People always left early on Fridays and they were getting into the part of the year when there would be more get-togethers. Halloween was just around the corner, then Thanksgiving. Holidays she would undoubtedly work through.
It had been almost ten months since the parade attack and no one had been arrested. That was so wrong. Someone other than the still unidentified driver who’d died in the fiery crash had to know something. Families, neighbors, it didn't matter who came forward with the information they needed. Someone who’d seen something needed to say something and the person responsible for that crime was going down. If Mozi al Fareq would talk and confirm all their suppositions, they could wrap both cases up together.
Because they were losing witnesses.
The first witness they'd lost had been an older gentleman that had been sweeping the streets blocked off for the art fair. He'd seen everything as it happened. But somehow, just one month before they took Mozi to trial, the street sweeper's life had been lost when a car plowed into him on the street.
Andromeda knew things like that happened, but really, what were the chances?
The next witness she'd lost had been the mother of one of the children injured in the art fair attack, Tandy. Toni Mathers had loved her daughter and had been very vocal about seeing justice be served; hence, the reason she’d come forward to say that she’d seen Mozi get out of the truck with a gun in his hand. So, when she'd committed suicide in her garage something had seemed off. So far, the Medical Examiner had only come out with a 'suspicious' cause of death.
Andromeda had spoken with and liked Toni Mathers. The woman had seemed grounded and determined, the type unwilling to throw her life away, but who was to say?
The deaths were too convenient, though. In all her years of prosecuting scum, she'd never had anyone this ... connected. He had people in all the right places looking out for him, and it was frustrating her to pieces. She had two other viable witnesses for court. One was a cop and the other a man that just happened to be in the right place at the right time.
The elevator chimed softly when it reached her floor and she stepped inside. If she could have brought the semi driver back from the dead she would have, just to question him about his connections and who had helped him plan the heinous Christmas crime. That was outside of her abilities though. She could only do the best she could with what she had.
Mozi knew about that attack, though. She'd questioned him three times and each time she asked him about it he got this smug smile on his face, like it was funny watching her spin her wheels. It was up to Andromeda to find his pressure point. Mozi al Fareq considered it his destiny to go to jail for what he'd done. He would protect the ones around him with every fiber of his being.
What Mozi didn't know was that Andromeda had plans to bury him in the farthest, dirtiest prison corner she could find away from Columbus after she got him convicted.
But she only had five days to do it.
The elevator dinged and she walked out into the underground parking garage. Even the garage was almost empty. She glanced around just to be safe, and waved at the parking attendant in the far corner booth, then she headed for her SUV.
The hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood at attention, making her feel like she was being watched. Glancing around, she didn't see anyone, but there were plenty of places someone could hide. Hurrying a little, she reached her vehicle and disengaged the locks. She tossed her bag across the far seat as she climbed in and pressed the start button. Then she glanced around. Nothing that she could see but something had stirred her instincts.
Andromeda was a strong believer in listening to the signals your body and your mind gave you. Women were raped or abused all too often because they didn't listen to that warning voice of self-protection deep inside. Mothers who got up in the middle of the night to check on their children earned her respect. Fathers who checked on their kids' Facebook pages because something felt off needed to be commended. She wished everyone would listen to their instincts as well.
Waving at the parking attendant, she turned left on South High Street, then left on Main. Her condo was only a few blocks away, but it was worth it to her to drive. Today, especially. A cold rain pelted down onto the windshield and the wipers were struggling to keep up with it. Leaning forward on her seat, she peered into the foggy glass, looking for her turn. There it was. The bright white sign of Waterford Condominiums loomed into view. Luckily, her building also had an underground garage, vital when you built downtown and space had to be used effectively.
The parking garage was wet but only from other cars that had entered. She paused long enough for the camera to read her vehicle tag before the white metal gate lifted. She accelerated into the garage and circled around to her parking spot. Then, turning the vehicle, she backed into the space, a trick an old friend had ingrained into her.
Gathering her bag and the coffee cup from the center console she stepped out of the car. The parking garage was somewhat protected but a chill wind still managed to blow up her skirt as she headed for the elevator, making her shudder. Maybe it was time to dig out some wool pants from the back of her closet.
She swiped her residency card to call the elevator. Almost immediately the doors slid open.
An electronic screen in the right-hand corner of the elevator showed her Hampton Squires, the guard currently manning the security station somewhere in the depths of the tower. Andromeda had read an article recently about your name influencing what you did in life. She wondered if Hampton had read it.
"Hello, Ms. Pierce. Another late one, huh?"
Andromeda grinned. "Yes, Hampton. I have a big case going to trial next week."
"Well, you go in and get settled and if you need anything you give me a ring."
"Will do. Thank you, Hampton."
Andromeda watched the numbers tick by until it stopped on twenty-seven. Not the top of the high rise— she couldn't afford that— but definitely high enough up that she didn't have to worry about traffic noise and more than one neighbor.
As soon as she stepped into the entryway of her condo some invisible tension left her spine. She loved the openness and the light from the wall of windows. Kicking her heels to the side, she dropped her bag to the tan marble floor a
nd headed into the kitchen. There was a glass sitting on the counter she'd used this morning. Holding it to the dispenser in the fridge she waited for it to fill with water, then drank the thing down straight. Then she headed to the bathroom to change.
As she placed the blue suit onto a hanger for dry cleaning, she thought about what to have for dinner. The restaurant downstairs was superb and they would be willing to cook her anything she'd like, one of the perks of being a Waterford resident. On this cold, rainy day she was kind of just in the mood for soup and a sandwich, maybe.
Andromeda found a comfortable shirt and a pair of fleece pants to put on, then a loose sweater to go over top of everything. Yeah, now she was warm. Slipping her feet into her fuzzy slippers she padded out of the closet.
She ordered her food before picking up her laptop. Once she lost herself in the information it was hard to pull her mind back out. At least this way she could work a little, have a break, then work some more.
Settling onto the overstuffed couch in her living room, her favorite place to hang, she closed the vertical blinds over the rain-shrouded window. She glanced down from the height to the street below, but it was getting foggy. The Scioto River, just a few hundred yards away, was warmer than the outside air apparently and sending up fog. It was a beautiful scene.
As she sank into her couch and pulled the laptop to her, she tried to think about every possible contingency she could imagine. If she had her preference, she would put both remaining witnesses under protective custody, but she doubted her boss would approve that kind of expense. Yes, this was a felony criminal case but there was only so far you could go with a budget as tight as theirs.
Andromeda pulled up the al Fareq file. His dark, vacant eyes had sent chills through her for months. It had only been in the past few weeks, as the trial date neared, that she'd finally started seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Al Fareq would be convicted. She had no doubts about it. As long as she could get everyone into the courtroom.
