On the Heels of Evil

by D. E. Daum

  The outside seating was to the left of the café, away from traffic. There were about a dozen cozy tables set among lush tropical foliage and date palms.

  Saleem led me to a table. “Kareem is meeting us. Let’s sit here so he’ll see us when he comes. He’ll be along soon.”

  I ordered iced coffee and a pastry, Saleem an iced tea.

  As he sat down, I noticed a purse on the empty chair. “Look, Saleem, someone left a purse on the chair.”

  He started to reach over. “No, don’t touch it.”

  I grasped it and stood up.

  Imagining some woman had left her purse, I decided to take it to the proprietor. As I stood up, the loud noise, the explosion, and the pain! God, the excruciating pain!

  I glanced down. My hand. Where was my hand? And the pain, the horrible pain in my stomach and chest! I looked down. There was a huge hole and so much blood. My God, I can see my intestines.

  I slumped to the pavement and passed out.

  Chapter 2

  When Saleem’s half brother, Ahmed, left the hospital, he drove Mariam home.

  Short and corpulent, Ahmed had been jealous of his tall handsome half brother, until he managed to get him to join The Sword of Allah. They shared a father, and while Saleem’s mother was tall and willowy, Ahmed’s was short and plump. The marriage had been arranged for family business interests. His father, Suleiman, hadn’t seen his new wife before the wedding and had been disappointed. Two years later his family fortune allowed him to take a second wife, the beautiful Sarah, Saleem’s mother. Saleem was born a year later, twenty-eight months after his brother.

  Ahmed’s childhood was unhappy, his father providing for, but largely ignoring him and his mother. Ahmed, though smart, was overweight and not particularly attractive. He was seldom happy, finding fault with everyone and everything. He gravitated to extreme positions, finding camaraderie among the more radical members of Islam. Finally, when he reached maturity, he became a mullah at the mosque where Saleem worshipped. Not surprisingly, he embarked on a project to radicalize his more moderate leaning brother.

  After dropping Mariam off, he headed straight for his mosque. He hoped to find Imam Suhar to update him on Saleem’s condition.

  “Yes, Ahmed, what is it?”

  “Suhar, your reverence, Saleem has awakened, but I’m afraid he has gone mad.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He believes he is the infidel we killed—this Rogers. He speaks only English and claims not to understand Dr. Mysari or myself.”

  “How could he speak in English?”

  “Saleem studied overseas and is fluent in several languages.”

  “Hmm, I will talk to him when he gets out of the hospital. Our cause is just, and I will convince him of the righteousness of killing infidel spies. Since Saleem died and came back to life, he must have found favor with Allah. He will be useful in future operations against the infidels and our corrupt Muslim leadership. Woe to the non-believer that crosses the path of Saleem. We have much work to do. When does Saleem get out of the hospital?”

  “I’m not sure. I will bring him when I am able. His wife, Mariam, is angry with me for getting him involved and may make trouble, but she is merely a woman and inconsequential. I had reservations about Saleem at first, since his mother had been a convert to the true faith, but Saleem has proven himself and wrapped himself in honor.”

  Chapter 3

  Two days later

  In the two days since his outburst in front of Saleem’s wife, Kelly had nothing to do when he was awake but think. He knew Mariam and the doctor were wrong, but they kept insisting he was Saleem and he couldn’t figure out why. What was their purpose? Obviously, he and Saleem were in some kind of explosion. He even dreamed about it. Could his face have been so messed up he was unrecognizable? Naw. Even if that was true, Saleem was forty pounds heavier and though he was dark, Kelly was darker—product of his interracial background. He had to admit that his body didn’t feel right. Nothing overt, just different and then the strangeness of his voice. He’d decided that had something to do with the blast. The bandages were still on his eyes. If only he could look in a mirror. He could get this settled once and for all.

  He may have not been able to see, but he could hear the soft footfalls approaching his bed. “Who’s there?”

  “Hello, Saleem. I’m Jeffrey Wiggins, from the American Embassy. I’m investigating the murder of Kelly Rogers.”

  I Know that voice. Kelly groped to remember, then he remembered. Relief flooded when he realized it was Jeff, from college. “My God, Jeff. Am I glad to hear a familiar voice.”

  “You know me?”

  “Of course, I know you. We went to college together. Kelly Rogers”

  “Mr. Rhamsy, you’re confused. Maybe I should return at another time.”

  Kelly began to panic. “Jeff, it’s me. Kelly. Okay, let me prove who I am. Your wife’s name is Susan and you have twin boys, five years old. Why does everyone call me Saleem? He’s my guide.”

  “Because you are, that’s why. Am I going to believe you or my eyes? I don’t know what your angle is, but anybody could get that information.”

  This shook Kelly up more than any of the previous conversations with the doctor or Mrs. Rhamsy did. “Jeff, you really don’t know me?”

  “I know you, you’re Saleem Rhamsy and I need to ask you about what led up to the explosion that killed Mr. Rogers.”

  Kelly needed to convince him. “Okay Jeff, disregard the fact you think I look like Saleem. There has to be an explanation, because it really is me. The last time we played poker, I cleaned your clock. You bet everything you had on a pair of queens and fours and I had three sixes. Your favorite movie is Lord of the Rings. Our last golf game, you had an eagle, the first one you ever had, and I had a double bogie. You love the Redskins. I’m a Forty-Niners fan, and every time they play, we bet a C-note on the game. You won the last three, and luckily they didn’t play this year, since the Niners are terrible.”

  Jeff paused a moment. “Very impressive, the amount of information you’ve managed to gather, but even with your bandages, I can see you’re Saleem and not Kelly. What is your angle, playing like you are someone you’re obviously not?”

  Ah! An opening. “Good point. Why would I try to convince everybody, unless it happens to be true? I give. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t even know why I’ve got bandages on my eyes.”

  “They were damaged from the flash. I’ve heard they can be removed in a day or so,” answered Jeff, somewhat sympathetically.

  “Suppose I buy into this idea, that I resemble Sal—”

  “Not resemble, you are Saleem. The explosion must have addled your brain.”

  He played along. “Okay, fine. Let me see for myself. Can you take off the bandages, free my hands, and hand me a mirror?”

  “What? I’m not allowed to do that. How come your hands are even tied up?”

  Kelly was getting frustrated. “I don’t know. I guess to keep me from removing the bandages, but since you’re going to do it anyway, it doesn’t matter. And since you think I’m nuts, ask me a question, any question at all, that only you and Kelly would know the answer to.”

  Jeff paused again. The seconds felt like minutes. “All right, I’ll play your game this last time, and if you don’t answer correctly, no more talk of you being Kelly Rogers. Here’s the question. You say you know my, wife Susan. What was her maiden name?”

  Kelly felt the corners of his lips curl up before answering, “Drake, and the reason I know is I introduced you two in college. Now do you believe me?”

  “Well, I’ll be.” Jeff said in a stunned voice.

  “The bandages and the mirror, please,” Kelly asked a speechless Jeff.

  Jeff reached over and removed the bandages. Kelly kept his eyes closed because of the bright light and slowly opened them. As he did, Jeff sounded dumbfounded. “Your eyes…your eyes are hazel speckled with gold, just like Kelly’s eyes.”


  Kelly’s gaze roamed the sterile appearing hospital room, settling on his friend. Thank God, his vision was fine. “Well, At least there’s something you recognize. Stop staring and pass me the mirror.”

  Jeff handed the mirror to Kelly, who was still getting used to sudden infusion of light, so he asked Jeff to close the blinds. Kelly could finally see his face or, rather, Saleem’s face. He moved his fingers over it, feeling his chin, then his nose and finally his lips. “Oh…my…God.” It was him all right and he was Saleem. He whistled and said, “Man this is like the Twilight Zone for real. I can’t believe this. How could this happen?”

  Jeff countered, “I don’t know Kelly. It is a great trick though.”

  At least Jeff was starting to believe him. “Well, I don’t know anything, except this nightmare I’ve been having, so tell me what you know, and don’t leave out anything.”

  Jeff’s face telegraphed confusion. “Where do I begin? Kelly, you were dead. I mean D - E - A - D. I saw you. I identified your remains. The blast practically cut you in half. There was a bomb—”

  “In a purse. That’s what I remember from the dream.”

  Jeff went on, “Maybe. Anyway it was small enough to kill the two of you—”

  “Wait a minute, hold your horses. You mean it killed me and Saleem?” Kelly blurted out, startled.

  “Yes, that’s what I hear. Saleem’s . . . your lungs got hit by shrapnel and collapsed, causing congestion and heart failure. On the way to the hospital, the paramedics revived you, but it was touch-and-go and you died again on the way into the emergency room.”

  “That’s right, I remember the doctor telling me that now.”

  “They resuscitated you a second time and fixed your lung. I would have figured Saleem was in on the bombing, except he was killed too.”

  “Damn him, I’m pretty sure he was. He led me right to that table. Some bodyguard! The reason he got hit too, is that I found the bomb. It was in a purse, I picked it up and stood. That’s the reason we both took the full blast. Keep going.”

  Jeff seemed intrigued, soliciting testimony from a dead victim. “That’s all I know. They flew your body back to the States, and you were buried in San Francisco twelve days ago. A group calling themselves ‘The Sword of Allah’ claimed responsibility. The usual stuff said you were a spy. What I don’t understand is how you’re still alive and in Saleem’s body?”

  “Hmmm. Like I do? This is as big a shock to me as you. I have to think about it.”

  Kelly reconstructed parts of his dream. “Saleem and I were in the same ambulance. Maybe, since I died first, I was out of my body like some say. I seem to remember being there, hanging around. I heard one of the medics say, ‘The American is history.’ Then Saleem flat lined. I saw and felt this light—a gush of energy—burst forth from his body. I think Saleem’s essence had rushed out, leaving a void. Both of the paramedics worked frantically at reviving him, then one yelled, ‘I feel a pulse!’ Is it possible when they revived him, I was drawn in?”

  Poor Jeff, he had such a puzzled look on his face. “That’s quite a theory. I hope you don’t mind if I withhold judgment.”

  “Okay, so let’s move along. Tell me about the condition of Saleem’s . . . my present body.”

  “You seem to be recovering very well. According to Dr. Mysari, you’ll be moved to a convalescent care center in a couple days to finish your therapy and recuperation. No permanent damage is expected.” A big smug smile formed on Jeff’s face. “I just thought of something. This is a hell of an opportunity for our country.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It should be obvious. Here you are a loyal, red-blooded American, now inhabiting the body of a strong, virile, handsome terrorist. Obviously, Saleem was inside one of the more deadly terrorist organizations, even reportedly having ties with Al Qaeda. This is a godsend. We know our intelligence has been unreliable for years due to lack of insiders. Now we have a bona fide, no-questions-asked insider. This is amazing. I think this is the break we’ve been looking for!”

  “I see what you mean. This is a fantastic opportunity, but there is one problem. I have Saleem’s generous king-size body, but I still have my eyes, and if they think for one minute that I’m not Saleem, sayonara.”

  “Brown contacts should take care of that, but there is another problem. You don’t speak Arabic. Do you?”

  “I can read it and translate it with time, but to carry on a conversation in Arabic, I can’t do it.”

  “Right! I’ll get you some generic brown contacts for the time being. Meanwhile, you’re going to have to put the bandages back on, until you can put the contacts in. As for Arabic, I have an idea. I’ll be back tomorrow with the contacts. Don’t go anywhere,” Jeff quipped.

  “Very funny, amigo. Hurry back.”

  Chapter 4

  Jeff couldn’t contain himself. This is an opportunity beyond belief. He was reluctant to tell the ambassador. This was too important for the ambassador. He needed to go directly to Washington. But who should he see? Who could he see? He was in the State Department, but he needed someone in Intelligence.

  Ahh! I know just where to start.

  Jeff arrived at Reagan International Airport, and caught a cab to the Congressional Offices. He looked up the office of California’s maverick congressman, Richard (Rick) Doughman, who was a relative of Kelly and the Deputy Chairman of the Congressional Committee on Intelligence. Jeff headed up the stairs, hoping he wasn’t too late to catch the congressman.

  Doughman was tied up, but the receptionist indicated he checked his messages twice a day. Jeff left the following message: Highest priority - important information concerning Kelly Rogers. Please call me any time day or night. 201-555-2434. Jeff Wiggins, Special Assistant to Ambassador Bruce Boren, Saudi Arabia.

  An hour later, while checking into his hotel, his cell phone rang. “Wiggens.”

  “Rick Doughman, here. You left a message about my nephew.”

  “Yes, Congressman. I have important information regarding Kelly’s death, which I’d like to speak with you about.”

  “Go on.”

  “Oh, this is much too important to discuss over the phone. It could involve national security. I need to talk to you in person. We could meet at your office or we could meet in my room. I’m just checking into the Hilton. That would actually be better, for the less anyone knows about this the better.”

  Finally after twenty seconds of silence, Doughman asked, “What room number?”

  Jeff felt a smile form on his lips as he said, “3642.”

  “I’m finishing something up. Give me two hours.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “And, Wiggens.”

  “Yes?”

  “This better be good.”

  “I can assure you, sir. It’s unbelievable.”

  At exactly 10:30 pm, Jeff received a call from the desk saying that a Mr. Doughman had arrived. Five minutes later, Rick walked into Jeff’s suite. Doughman, a gregarious man, was slight in stature. He appeared to be around fifty with thinning, grayish hair. Jeff shook his hand. “Jeff, the ambassador tells me good things about you. Says you have a good handle on the Saudis.”

  “As much as possible, I guess. Thank you, Congressman, I appreciate it. Ambassador Boren is a pleasure to work with.”

  “I’ll bet he is. I’ve known him for years, even went to law school together. Speaking of lawyers, here’s a good joke I heard today. What do you call a dozen lawyers wearing concrete shoes in the bottom of a lake?”

  Jeff shrugged. “I don’t know. I give.”

  “A good start,” The congressman winked.

  Jeff laughed politely.

  “Okay, Jeff, what do you have?”

  Jeff wasn’t sure where to start. How do you tell someone their distant relative, whose funeral he just attended, is alive—in someone else’s body? “First, let me say that what I’m going to tell you is extraordinary, so please listen and don’t interrupt. I’m sure you’ll
have plenty of questions when I’m finished.”

  Jeff laid out the situation exactly as he knew it, and Rick listened patiently. When Jeff had finished, he glanced at Rick. At first, he appeared thoughtful, and Jeff had hopes he believed him, then he began laughing. He laughed and laughed. It almost seemed like he couldn’t stop laughing. Eventually. “Boy that’s a good one. You had me going for a minute. Who put you up to that one? Senator Rueger?”

  At least he didn’t punch me. “I assure you, Rick, this is no joke. I even brought a letter from Kelly. Do you want to read it?”