{Does a male family member or your husband accompany you?}
“نعم ... زوجي هناك.”
{Yes, my husband is over there}
She stared at a man who stood in the corner of the room, who, luckily stared back at her, so she walked over to him, and suggested, in Arabic,
“أنت زوجي، وتساعدني في العثور على أديرا قريشي، الذي هو أخ لك ...”
{You are my husband, and you are helping me find Hammad Quraishi, who is a brother of yours...}
The guard walked over to him and asked, “Do you know this woman?”
‘Yes. I am her husband, and she needs to talk to Hammad, my brother. I will escort her.”
“Very well,” said the guard.
They walked to a small prayer room, and found Hammad, reading the Quran. He looked up at her, and said, “ما الذي تريده؟”
{“What is it you want?”}
She, in turn, looked at her ‘husband’ and suggested, You will remember none of this.
Her ‘husband’ stood very still, and said nothing.
Then, she asked Hammad, “Do you speak English?”
His stare became quizzical, and after some hesitation, said, “Yes. But why do you want to speak in English?”
“Because I have lived in America for many years, and am more comfortable with English.”
“Very well. What can I do for you?”
“I know that you are in a cell that is at the ready to attack at any moment when notified from you leader back in Iran. I want to help that cause.”
His eyes opened wide, then his eyebrows creased. “You are a woman. It is not your business to know such things.”
Not wanting to go through a long tirade of misogynist rhetoric, she looked him straight in the eye, and suggested, You’ll listen to me, and speak freely of your intentions.
He answered in a trance, “Very well.”
“Now,” she continued, “I want to make sure your efforts are not wasted, but will be successful. I am willing to supply funds and any kind of armaments you need. Just let me know where to send them, and I will do as I have said.”
“You have the ability to do all this?” he asked, incredulous. “I did not know that women dealt in such matters.”
“Yes, I am a woman and yes I do deal in such matters. Just call me سامّ {Sāmm
“It is true we need to be supplied with weapons, and we need to build our cell group. Do you know of any men or women who want to join the cause? If so, send them to me.”
“I’ll do that. I’ll now take my leave.”
Her ‘husband’ escorted her to the front door, and as she walked out she headed southeast on Mass Avenue, turned the corner on the next street, and ducking into an alley, changed back to Poisonous.
* * *
Her ‘husband,’ a man named Abdullah Salah, came back to lucidity. He left the temple and returned to his modest home in Takoma Park, Maryland. His wife, Safiya, greeted him, and he kissed her.
“Are you still seeking the truth about Allah?” she asked.
“Yes, and I don’t think it is in the Quran. The Quran is full of plenty of nice teachings, but there doesn’t seem to any power greater than what a person can do on their own. There must be a way to please Allah, but I don’t know how, yet. Perhaps, I should look into the Jewish Bible. There is a version in Arabic, and I will read it. I have heard many followers of the Prophet Yasū‘ say that not only is he a great prophet, but he is actually the son of God, and made a way for us to have a relationship with God.”
“Isn’t that considered blasphemy, husband?”
“It may be to those who are Muslims, but I want more than just high-sounding altruisms, or aphorisms that tell us we should be nice to one another, or worse, kill those who don’t think the way we do. I want to know how to be in Allah’s good graces. I mean, all people can be ‘good’ but is that enough?
“I don’t know, Abdullah, husband of mine. Search for your answers, but be discreet. I’m not ready to die for blasphemy.”
“You won’t, I assure you, my love.”
”I hope not. Please be careful.”
* * *
Changing out of the Islamic garb, and replacing it with her American clothes, she sat down at her desk, and once again perused all that the Dark Web had to offer.
“Ah; weapons for sale. Good. I will make a purchase and be sure to send it to a place where Hammad can use it. As for potential followers of ISIS, I will have to find some anti-Western liberal thinking souls that can be easily swayed to adopt the Sharia law and the Islamic way of life; especially the radical Islamists, who kill all who don’t follow their way of thinking.”
She laughed long and hard and shook her head. “Humans. They have become so confused they will reach for any philosophy that is convenient for their limited understanding. They are so easily manipulated.”
This time, instead of flying over DC and using her finely tuned sense of smell, she decided to use the power of technology, and visited a popular social media website, which mentioned the fight against the ISIS ideology, and the many military organizations around the world that fought against the jihadist soldiers. Finding nothing of use on the Social Media sites, so she decided to look up ISIS owned websites, since, as she expected, most pages dedicated to the ideals of the ISIS faithful had been deleted from social media sites. Instead, she searched online, especially on the Dark Web for sites dedicated to hatred of the West mingled with a call to have those with similar ideals join their cause. The most interesting part was that many young Americans, including children, joined the ISIS faithful, and were trained from a young age to adopt the brutal ideals of this group of militants for the cause of Sharia, and the radical Islamic views. Noting the various American young people who expressed solidarity with the cause, she found that they lived all over the United States, and a few were even right there in DC.
“Oh, delicious…I must pay these children a visit, and encourage their hatred for democracy and other doctrines of the Western World.” Names of those who seemed most interested in the cause went into a spreadsheet on her computer, including their addresses and phone numbers.
* * *
Later that night, near one o’clock in the morning, Poisonous flew back to the Virginia Hospital Center to pay Fritz Ballinger a visit. He had become more lucid, but remained a little addled. “This would be a perfect opportunity to put him out of his misery,” she said. She changed into Perri, clothed in a black dress and a black shroud that covered her face, and hid her hands, to be sure he wouldn’t think she was involved in his death. Walking to the bed, she stood next to Fritz, and dictated, by power of suggestion, Listen to what I say, and don’t question what you hear. “Wrap the intravenous tubes around your neck, Fritz.” He did so, and she continued. “Wrap more tubing around your neck, and pull it tight. That’s right, Fritz,” she cooed. “Keep doing what I say, and you’ll feel so-o-o-o much better…”
Things were going well, but footsteps echoed in the hall, and she stopped and listened. The presence of The Light felt stronger, and it came towards Fritz’ room, so she flew out the window, and watched the situation from outside Fritz’ room. The nurse walked into the room, and noticed the tubing wrapped around Fritz’ neck. “How on earth did this tubing get wrapped around your neck?”
“The lady in the black dress told me to do it. I assumed she knew what she was talking about,” Fritz answered.
Looking around, she focused on the window where Poisonous hovered. “Lord Jesus,” said the nurse, “please protect this man.” At the mention of the name of the Lamb, Poisonous quickly flew away, cursing. “Why does the Light always get in my way? I’m going to have to make sure it’s not around next time.”
* * *
Saturday, August 16th
Early in the morning of the next day, Poisonous, in spite of the Light that had forced her away t
he previous night, decided to make another visit to Fritz Ballinger. Arriving in his hospital room, she saw the Pastor of The Church of The Spirit, and smelled corruption in him. Watching the fool whose mind was under the control of Politically Correct, she paid rapt attention to the words of the deceiver.
“Pastor,” said Fritz, “I was visited last night by a demon. I talked to the nurse on that shift and she told me what had happened. What do I do? I’m confused, and scared at the same time. Is there any way to keep these demons away?”
The pastor smiled, cleared his throat and began his oratory. “You see son, when I’m afraid or nervous when I give a sermon, I just imagine all the parishioners in the pews are naked. Can’t help but laugh; relaxes me. You know: I remember when I used to have bad dreams. I would wake up in a sweat, and go to the kitchen, grab myself a cup of coffee, and start reading a good book. Worked every time.”
She couldn’t contain herself. This man was so full of baloney that she roared with laughter.
“But does that deal with keeping demons away?” Fritz asked.
“You see, son: There is no substitute for finding a way to relax when you’ve had a bad dream.”
More laughter bellowed out of her. “This pastor knows nothing of how we work. What a fool.”
“But this wasn’t a dream, Pastor,” said Fritz.
“I’m sure it was,” said the Pastor. “Goodbye son, and may the good Lord bless you.” The Pastor left, smiling, and Poisonous laughed more. “I couldn’t lead humans away from the truth any better than that man. Oh my, but Politically Correct has him bamboozled.”
* * *
As promised, Poisonous met Shauna Williams outside the main entrance to the Capital Scene. Shauna dressed like most young women having a night on the town: provocative, yet not quite slutty.
“Good. I’m glad to see you managed to make your date,” she said.
“Is he hot?” Shauna asked.
“Oh yes,” she answered. “At least in my opinion; but I’ll let you decide that for yourself.”
Presently, after seven minutes, the young man approached. First, he eyed Shauna, weighing her merits. Then, his gaze turned to Poisonous. “You’ve done well. He handed her five one hundred dollar bills.
“Why is he paying you? Isn’t this a date?”
“Of course, sweetie,” she answered. “I’m sort of a match maker, and he’s paying me my fee, that’s all.”
“Oh.”
Out of the vision of the man, Poisonous’ fiery red eyes burned into Shauna’s. You will not remember ever seeing me.
Then, the man took Shauna by the arm, and led her into the club.
Satisfied, Poisonous flew back to the condo.
* * *
Shauna followed Rob inside the club, They made their way through the crowd, and found the table he had reserved. She had to constantly move to avoid the bodies of the dancers bumping into her. Seated next to her date, she asked, “So what’s your name?”
“I’m Rob. You?”
“Shauna.”
“You ready to party?”
“Yeah. Let’s do it. I need to let loose and have some fun tonight.”
“I think I can arrange that. Let’s go in.”
Electronic Dance Music pulsed throughout all the different levels of the venue, but especially on the Main Floor. Gyrating bodies bounced up and down and swayed from side to side as the beat pounded away. Alcohol flowed constantly, and dancers usually had a drink in one hand as the other rose to the sky in sync with their gyrating bodies. Servers delivered bottles of alcohol with flames shooting up from them where they had tubes inserted in the top, and had been lit to resemble a Roman candle.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll have a mojito, please.”
He got up and walked to the bar. She took in all the flashing lights in all sorts of psychedelic colors flashing from every wall and every nook and cranny in the room. The high energy pulsed through her, and she found herself getting up and dancing by herself as first. Soon, a group danced around her and she joined in. A few moments later, Rob returned with two drinks in his hand, and handed hers to her.
“Thanks, Rob,” she said as she continued to dance. Completely caught up in the moment, she had forgotten about Rob, but a tap on her shoulder brought her back to the reason she was here in the first place.
“May I cut in?” he asked, smiling but looking a little threatening.
A little spooked, she answered, “Yeah. Sure.”
They danced to the music for about five minutes as she sipped on her drink. A few sips later, she felt a little loopy. A few sips after that, dizziness overtook her. The closer the liquid in the drink got to the bottom of the glass, the sleepier she felt. Her speech slurred, the room started to look a bit fuzzy, and her stomach roiled within her. “Ohhhhhh…”
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“No. I don’t feel so good.”
“Let me take you somewhere where you can lay down,” he said, sounding reassuring. Carried in his arms, she ended up on a table in a small back room with no other people in it. “Can I get you…” His voice faded into nothingness, and so did she. That was the last thing she remembered.
Waking a few hours later, near four o’clock in the morning, she realized she lay nude on the table where Rob had placed her. Her groin felt a little sore, and upon careful examination, she found traces of the remnants of sex in her mid-section. She dressed, got up slowly and had to stop for a moment: her head pounded like a jackhammer. Forcing herself to move, she made her way to the front door, and took a TNC cab home.
As Shauna walked into the house, she found her mother waiting in the living room for her. “Mom. What are you doing up at this hour?”
“What on earth happened to you, Shauna?” asked her mother. “I thought you went to meet some friend at the Bombay Bistro.”
“Well, I did…” she lied, “and after we finished dinner, I wanted to do some dancing, so I went to the Capital Scene and was dancing with some other people, when this guy tapped me on the shoulder, and wanted to dance with me. He even asked me if I wanted a drink. I didn’t realize he would drug me. He seemed like a nice enough guy…I guess I really misjudged him.”
“What happened?’ asked her mother.
“After I started dancing and having my drink, I started feeling woozy, and had to lie down on a table, and then I must have passed out. I think I was raped, mom…” Tears formed in her eyes, and her voice cracked. “That guy is a real jerk. I know his name and what he looks like. Maybe they have footage of him on their security cameras.”
“I’m sure they do, honey,” her mom reassured. “We’ll get this beast, and make sure he pays for it.”
* * *
Sunday, August 17th
Abdullah Salah drove to the Western church alone; his wife, Safiya had not come out of sheer terror. “May Allah protect you, and keep us alive,” she had said. He parked his car in the parking lot five minutes after the service began. Wearing a typical Western outfit, he took one last inventory of his suit. His tie straightened just so, he approved his look. Walking quietly towards the entrance of the church, he was greeted by a man who shook his hand, and a woman who offered him coffee and doughnuts. “Thank you,” he said, sipping on the coffee and munching the doughnut in one hand, and holding the coffee and a napkin in the other.
At least these people are nice.
In the sanctuary, an usher led him to an empty seat. He quietly slipped into the seat whose neighbor was a tall Asian woman from the Far East, probably China. To his surprise, the woman turned to him, and said, “Hi. I’m Evie Chen, and this is my boyfriend, Carlo Bocelli.”
“Nice to meet you both,” he said, shaking the hands of the woman and the man.
“Have you been here before?” Evie asked.
“No. This is my first time.”
“So how did you find out about this church?”
“Well, I h
ave been interested in learning the Jewish faith, so I am attending your service.”
“Really,” she said. “That’s wonderful. I pray that God will show you his love for you.”
“May I ask you a question?”
“Go right ahead.”
“How does one have a relationship with God?”
Evie and her boyfriend looked at each other, smiling.
“Well, I once wondered the same thing,” she answered. “It’s both very simple and very difficult.”
“That sounds very strange,” he said.
“Well, all you have to do is make Jesus Christ your Lord and Savior.”
“How does one do that?”
“Would you like for me to pray with you?”
“Yes, but may I listen to what your teacher has to say first?”
Her gentle smile filled him with peace. “Of course. May God give you wisdom.”
After the service ended, he thanked Evie and Carlo for their explanations of a relationship with God. “I want to make Prophet Yasū‘ my Lord and Savior, but I need to understand what I am doing,” he said to both of them. “I do not want to say a lot of empty words for the sake of sounding pious. I want to mean them.”
“That’s just fine,” Evie said. “I pray that God will reveal to you all the answers you seek.”
“Thank you. Thank you both. It was nice meeting you, Evie; you as well, Carlo. I bid you both Salaam. As we say in my home country, ‘alsalam ealaykum’ which means, ‘Peace be upon you.”
“Thank you,” said Evie. “May God bless your comings and your goings. Maybe we’ll see you next week.”
“I will return, I assure you.”
Twelve
Monday, August 18th
The call went into the law firm they had always used in her husband’s business, the law offices of Ordman, Bartholomew and Pittman.
Poisonous: A Visit To Earth (DC Angels Book 2) Page 15
