On the Heels of Evil

by D. E. Daum

  At seven o’clock, someone knocked on Kelly’s door. When he opened the door, the striking strawberry-blonde woman from the hospital met him. “Miss Stevens?”

  “Good morning, Kelly. My real name is Jane DeJong. You know me as Starbird. Are you ready to start your indoctrination?

  Starbird was a woman. He’d been right.

  Kelly’d been told, Starbird was a former drill sergeant. What he hadn’t been told, was, not only wasn’t Starbird a man, she looked like she could be on the cover of a magazine. He’d also heard Starbird had been with the company for eight years, recruited directly out of the Marines. Though Starbird had her abrasive moments, she was good, quick, tough and loyal.

  As Jane started to give Kelly some background on Saleem, his friends and family, Kelly interrupted and finished Jane’s sentences. This was what he and Jeff hoped might happen. Even though Saleem had moved on, an imprint of his memories could be revived with prompting. Once a memory came forward, it became absorbed by Kelly’s memory, no longer requiring prompting. This was certainly going to move things along on the fast track. When Jane finished she told Kelly he would have Sunday off because he was going to have an operation.

  “What kind of operation?”

  Jane waved her hands, “Oh, it’s no big deal. We just need to operate on your eyes.”

  His eyebrows dipped. “Why?”

  Jane apparently decided she had teased Kelly enough. “No sweat. We’re just going to colorize your irises brown, so you won’t have to worry about colored contact lenses anymore.”

  “And that’s just minor surgery?”

  “Yes it is. It can even be reversed if you choose.”

  At ten o’clock, it was Professor Albrev Denalli’s turn with Kelly. He knew nothing of Kelly/Saleem’s background. In fact, no one besides Jeff and Starbird did. That’s the way it was planned. Denalli’s job was to familiarize Kelly with known terrorists, including their habits, their affiliations, their modus operandi, their families and friends. Denalli said he was also going to get into the financial aspects as well, in the future. This didn’t go as well as the previous session. Kelly recognized only a half-dozen of the pictures including Ahmed, his boss Suhar and four more in Ahmed’s circle. There were some others, but he only recognized them from pictures on news reports.

  Finally, after lunch it was Rayya’s turn. Kelly tried to be friendly, but she was all business. She said she had come to do a job and she was going to do it. As with the first session, bits of Arabic started to filter back to him. Rayya noted a little problem with his accent. They were going to work on it, but overall she was quite pleased.

  At three o’clock, it was Bingham’s turn. As with the family and language, memories flooded back, though some of Bingham’s assertions didn’t ring true. Granted, various mosques had their own interpretation of the Qur’an and Islamic law, so this wasn’t cause for worry.

  At dinner, Rayya was not present. Kelly inquired about her and was informed that she wasn’t feeling well. Kelly was drained after the very long day. He went back to his room and while he was getting ready for bed, Jeff knocked. After Kelly let him in.

  “Kelly. I’m not going to beat around the bush. Rayya has been warned away from you. If you can’t live with that, they will find a replacement for Rayya.”

  Kelly was incensed. “This is a bunch of crap!”

  Defensively Jeff said, “Kelly, you’re here to be remade into Saleem Rhamsy, not to romance your teacher. Remember you have a wife.”

  “Yeah, Saleem was the one who was married. I’ve seen Mariam. We’ll see,” answered a clearly vexed Kelly.

  Chapter 7

  Due to the retrieval of Saleem’s memories, the indoctrination was completed in two and a half weeks, instead of six weeks that was anticipated.

  Kelly managed to avoid the eye colorization by claiming to be sick on two successive Sundays. Finally, he admitted it wasn’t that he was against it, but had a feeling Saleem’s new eye color could be used to his advantage. After all, Saleem’s brother had been raging about him being Allah’s “Chosen One.”

  Jane acquiesced. “I hope you know what you’re doing, big guy.”

  They decided Kelly would not undertake any specific assignments; rather he’d be a floater, one who entrenched himself, gathered information and took advantage of opportunities when they presented themselves. He would also be available if an important assignment came up.

  He found out what Haman’s purpose was. He was merely to be Kelly’s backup—his muscle. Haman was to travel back to Saudi Arabia with Saleem/Kelly and act as his acolyte. Until that point, Haman hadn’t said two words to him, but now he opened up. He didn’t speak English well. The only one he could talk to was Rayya. Poor guy, Haman seemed to have a terrible crush on her. Kelly couldn’t blame him.

  Before Rayya left for Durango, Colorado, where she was based, Kelly obtained her address and phone number. He promised to visit as soon as possible, though neither of them knew when that would be.

  “That would be nice,” said Rayya. “I’ll be looking forward to seeing you. You were a very good student, but you should’ve told me you spoke Arabic.”

  “I’m sorry, this was a refresher course for me. I guess I remembered more than I thought. I really am looking forward to resuming our conversation from the first night. I’ll miss you.” Kelly swept her into his arms kissing her passionately.

  Rayya acted as if she didn’t want to leave. Evans was ready to take her to Laramie, so she took his hand, gave him a peck on the lips and pulled away. Still holding his fingers until the last possible moment, she turned and apparently walked out of his life.

  Kelly was upset and went to see Starbird. “Since we’re ahead of schedule, I would like some time to go to Durango and visit Rayya.”

  “No, Kelly,” replied Jane, all business. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry, and you’re our cook. The sooner we get you in action, the sooner we can start to deplete the terrorists.”

  Kelly was beginning to dislike his situation. “What about my parents? I should go see them. They think I’m dead.”

  He remembered his parents, John and Lydia Rogers, good citizens. John, a dashing man, an African-American and proud of it (both African and American), was a former U.S. Army Colonel, retired, and Lydia, a former model, now a school librarian, was of Irish/French heritage. He also had a younger brother named Ryan, who was attending Arizona State University on a baseball scholarship. A good pitcher from what he’d heard.

  “Kelly, I like your parents and they deserve to know that through some unimaginable event, you’re alive. Unfortunately, I can’t allow it. It’s just too dangerous right now. Think of your situation as if you were in a witness protection program. All connections of the past must be broken, at least for now.”

  Not giving up, Kelly tried again. “Yes, but in a witness protection program, the family knows the witness is still alive.”

  Jane looked at Kelly in apparent sympathy and smiled. “True, but you’re not alive as Kelly, you’re now Saleem. If you showed up at their door claiming to be Kelly, you could give someone a stroke. I can’t allow it. Besides, if word got back to the Muslim community, the whole charade would be over and you could be killed again, permanently this time. Now, that your rehabilitation is almost complete you and I are going to Quantico, so I can make you as deadly as Rambo.”

  “I’m pretty deadly already, between what Saleem knew and what I know,” he stated confidently.

  Jane spoke in a patient tone, “That may be, but we’ve got big plans for you, so I’m going to make you and Haman into my personal ‘Weapons of Mass Destruction.’ You can’t be too deadly when dealing with these people.”

  Chagrined, Kelly replied, “I guess. Is Jeff coming too?”

  “No, he’s going back to Riyadh tomorrow morning, so it’s just you and me. Somewhat cozy, don’t you think?

  Kelly thought he might be losing it when, immediately after she said that, a clear picture flashed of Jane and hi
m naked. Was he reading her mind?

  * * * *

  When they arrived at Quantico at eight p.m. there wasn’t a room available for Kelly on the base, so Jane volunteered, “No problem. I have a two-bedroom apartment just off base, and you can sleep in the spare bedroom.”

  Since it was late, they dined at the closest mess hall and went straight to her apartment.

  “Kelly, I hope you don’t think I’m a lousy host, but after that long plane ride, I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.” She sauntered over to him, put her hands on his arms, stood on her toes and kissed him lightly on the lips. “You can stay up if you wish. The TV remote is on the coffee table. There’re a few books and magazines to read, but I suggest you don’t stay up too late. We rise at five in the morning, and tomorrow will be an especially wearing day.”

  He stayed up and read a quarter of a book he’d come across by an author named Carl Hiaasen. It was funny and he figured he’d finish reading it while staying at Jane’s apartment.

  The next day, as promised, Jane banged on his door at five am. “Kelly, Sweetie, are you up?”

  He looked around. It was still dark. “I am now.” The only thing he could see was the large numerals glowing from an alarm clock—4:57 AM.

  She laughed. “Good. Are you ready for your big day?”

  “Yeah, sure. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be out.”

  “Fifteen minutes, and if you’re not out, I’m coming after you.”

  Once again his intimate vision of Jane and himself surfaced. He shook it off and said, “If you do, make sure you’re undressed.”

  “Woo hoo. Listen to the stud-meister. We’re down to fourteen minutes and counting.”

  He flipped on the nightstand lamp, hopped out of bed, ran to and turned on the shower.

  After a strenuous day of running, climbing, jumping and a rigorous workout of taekwondo with Jane and another trainer, it was Kelly who was beat. “Jane, I’m beat. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.”

  Jane sashayed over to him and once again kissed him on the lips—this time harder.

  After showering and toweling off, he walked into the bedroom greeted by the greatest surprise of his life. “What’re you doing he…Are you naked?”

  Jane was in the bed, the sheet drawn up to and just covering her breasts. She gave an exaggerated nod. “You said I needed to be naked to come in here, so that’s what I am. You wanna see?”

  He felt his brows rise as his eyes widened. “No, don’t do that. It’s all right I believe you. But why?”

  “I should think that would be obvious. I do hope you’re not too tired.”

  He shook his head.

  She smiled and beckoned him with her finger. “Good. Unwrap your towel, and get in bed.”

  He walked over to the bed and lifted the sheet as he let the towel fall. She looked at him and he looked at her. Simultaneously they said, “Oh my!”

  The next morning, Jane came in and poured ice water on Kelly’s head. He came up swinging. “Wha . . . what the fuck?”

  It was 5:00 and obviously enjoying herself, Jane said, “Fun’s over. Now, it’s again time to make a killer out of you, lover. You have five minutes to get dressed. I’ve got breakfast in the kitchen.”

  Four minutes later he sat down at the kitchen table with a scowl. “You call this breakfast?” He started eating the cereal.

  Jane flashed a Cheshire cat smile. “Breakfast of Champions! What do you expect, room service? I’m not your fry cook and maid.”

  Kelly regarded this and responded, “What happened to the warmth of last night?”

  Jane’s smile faded. She looked longingly at Kelly. “I hate to burst your bubble, but as I explained to you last night, what went on and will go on for the rest of our time here is my job. I’ll admit I’m attracted to you, but after we leave here, we probably won’t have sex again.”

  On reflex, I replied, “What kind of job would force you to have sex?”

  “Hey, I didn’t say anyone’s forcing me. I’m the instructor, and I write the textbook. Sex is a weapon, and you are going to learn every aspect of what I know, which is substantial. Who knows, maybe I’ll write a bestseller on copulation when I leave the company. Anyway, we’re the good guys, and we’ll do whatever it takes to take down the bad guys. Whatever it takes. ”

  “How can you separate sex from your emotions?” He barked.

  Jane studied Kelly, her lips quivering. He’d obviously hit a nerve.

  “I don’t like to, but sometimes it’s a necessity. Look, I’m not trying to be your good-time girl; I’m your savior. Starting today, you are going to hate me in the daytime and love me at night. For the rest of our time here, I’m going to be your tight-assed personal instructor who is going to teach you to be a cold-blooded killer on one hand, and your lover on the other, instructing you. Let me tell you something, sex allowed me to get close enough to kill three targets over the years. When they’re in the throes of passion, they get careless. One idiot even let me handcuff him to the bed. Can you believe that? I took a straight razor and threatened to cut off his love muscle unless he told me what I wanted. Needless to say, we shared some juicy secrets, ‘til I slit his throat.”

  “Are you going to handcuff me to the bed?”

  Jane laughed. “I may, but don’t worry, I won’t slit your throat. We’re going to do everything you can think of and then some and when we’re done, we’ll send you back to your pretty little wife.”

  “Humpf. I forgot about her.” Not totally mollified he continued, “Jane, is this something you do with all your operatives?”

  “No! Hell, no!” He could tell she was getting agitated.

  “Frankly, few of my operatives are attractive enough to develop sexually. Your physique and handsomeness make that one of your major resources. I would be remiss if I didn’t exploit these assets. Face it, Kelly, you will be exceptionally attractive to women – homosexuals, too.”

  He grimaced, “Yuck.”

  “Yeah, well, in a life and death struggle, you need every edge you can get, and sex can be a huge one.”

  Resigned but not pacified Kelly asked, “So what’s on the agenda today?”

  Jane put a hand on his shoulder. “I assume you remember all your previous training. Right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well then, we’ll start with tools, household items, and utensils. How they can be used to your advantage, how they can maim, how they can kill. You’ll also be brushing up on your taekwondo again and kick boxing, every day for three hours, and learning a few new tricks while you’re at it.”

  “How about tonight?” asked Kelly, salaciously.

  He watched her lovely smile reappear. Seductively she said, “Tonight? Tonight we are going to work on the softer, warmer, fuzzier side of you. Last night you were a brute. Tonight we will explore the tender and subtle side of you.”

  Chapter 8

  After fourteen excruciating days and thirteen blissful nights, it was time for Kelly to put his new and old training to work. It was going to be tricky, trying to deliver Saleem back to his country, friends, and family. They decided the best way was to be open, as if he had nothing to hide. He would fly to Saudi Arabia and call Saleem’s family from the embassy. He was given the cover story that he’d been flown to Guantanamo, held incommunicado for five weeks, while being questioned relentlessly. As the story went, he finally convinced his interrogators that he was not complicit in Kelly Rogers’s death. After all, he’d been mortally wounded.

  As Kelly, he’d met Mariam only once. Now, she was going to be his wife. He supposed among Muslims that wasn’t so unusual. He recognized her immediately. He remembered she was friendly and more alive than the average Saudi woman. Still, Mariam wore traditional clothing, though she would not wear a veil. Kelly recalled Saleem’s comment about that: “My wife is an exceptionally beautiful woman. Why would I want to hide her beauty? Allah gave her beauty not to hide away, for one man to hoard, but for all to see, to beauti
fy the world. She’s also a free spirit. Why would I want to tether her and break the spirit that I love? Western men know how to treat women, while many Arab men only know how to suppress them.”

  This was progressive thinking for a Wahhabi, one of the most dogmatic versions of Islam, and the official religion of Saudi Arabia. The house of Saud came to power in the thirties with the help of the Wahhabis, and through the years when a touchy issue was before them, they would defer to the Wahhabi clerics, tying the House of Saud inextricably to the Wahhabi sect.

  Kelly agreed, Mariam was indeed beautiful. Today she wore a bright green abaya. Her jeweled hijab, along with a few tufts of her brunette hair, framed an exquisite light olive-colored face. Her brown almond-shaped eyes were like pools of liquid oil, ever changing yet deep and mysterious. Her lips were full and sensuous with a reddish tinge, sans lipstick. Her nose was upturned and somewhat pointed, unusual in the Middle East, but Mariam wasn’t from the Middle East, was she? Yes, it would be a shame to hide this beauty from the world; she was a beauty queen, a fact that, if widely known, would draw scorn upon her from acquaintances and family.