He hurriedly made himself comfortable, waiting for them to begin. No one spoke. Omar looked from one to the other as they appeared to study him. A prickly sensation distracted him, making the hairs on his back itch. He felt his hands turn to ice . . . something’s wrong. Imam Mohammed al Qua Terique turned and reached for the papers on the sideboard, holding them against his chest. A sudden premonition knifed cleanly through Omar’s bowels.
“You have been a fool, Omar.”
More silence, his heart hammered, draining his face of all color. “I don’t understand, your—”
“Shut up, you fool. You have ruined twenty years of interminable planning. Many men have risked much to make this happen. The Salafis have waited so long, and are finally in position to eliminate the western devil. All ruined over a woman.” He spat on the table, throwing down a ring and a photo. “Pick them up and look at your whore.”
Omar’s hands shaking, he picked up the photo and the engagement ring he had put on Lita’s finger just days ago. He focused on the photo. She lay on the floor of what appeared to be her bedroom, panties wrapped around her neck, her body nude. Signs of rape. Her hands were tied and bound to a leg of the bed he had used so many times to enjoy her tasty body. Above her once beautiful eyes sat the ugly bullet hole that had ended her life.
He closed his eyes, stalling for time. Why did they do this? His mind spiraled with questions. His bowels groaned uneasily. “Why was this necessary? You approved the relationship.”
The imam flicked his finger on the remaining photo, sliding it toward Omar. He picked it up. It showed Lita in a pantsuit, her luscious hair drawn back in a youthful ponytail with none of the exotic cosmetics she normally wore. She stood on a street in front of an Asian grocery, looking like any other American woman. He peered closer . . . American? He looked up questioningly.
“She is CIA, you fool. This was taken in New York City over two weeks ago. The grocery is a front for the CIA head field office. Did you even know she was in New York?”
Omar’s shock was palpable as he shook his head slowly. “She was fully vetted. She’s clean. She’s from Syria,” he whispered.
“She is American,” the imam roared, slapping his hands on the table, making Omar jump. Silence descended in the small room. Omar could feel a bead of sweat roll down the side of his temple. He wondered if he would get out of the mosque alive. His only hope might be the fact that they wouldn’t dare draw attention to the mosque which served as a cover for their activities. If they tried to take him outside, he might have a chance to escape. He pushed the thoughts of his tired body and pampered lifestyle away from his hope of escape.
“They must have known of our plans for years.” The bitterness cut deep in the fanatic’s voice. “Our only hope is to revamp and move our operation to go status. In the last two weeks we have made alternative plans. Two neutron bombs are making their way over the border from Mexico. They should have arrived on the U.S. side by now. They will be airborne in a dozen hours.” The three imams rose. “We are leaving for the airport now. We will be in Cairo by this evening.” Omar’s mind swam with confusion.
“What do you want me to do?” He cringed at the whining tone of his voice, visions of his presidential inauguration dissolving. Mohammed al Qua Terique eyed him disdainfully, his contempt crystal clear.
“I suggest you start running.” He turned and left the room, the other imams and the aides scurrying behind. Omar waited a few minutes to let the imams clear out of the mosque. He tried to slow the frantic thundering of his heart so he could think. He must get home to collect his daughter. The safe in his study contained enough cash to save them both.
He carefully peered out into the hallway, finding it empty. He ran down the deserted hall to the prayer room where he slowed down. Entering the antechamber, he searched for his sandals. No one stopped him. Not bothering with the stooped posture of his disguise, he hurried back to Marina Jack’s. He ran down the dock to the Bertram, but his man was nowhere to be seen. Damn. The idiot was probably sucking up a beer at the bar. Racing over to the marine bar he looked around wildly for his pilot, losing precious time.
Abandoning the Bertram, he made a quick call to the house. No one picked up. He called Brooks. Nothing. He paced madly, his cell to his ear. Frustration began to overwhelm him. He stopped pacing and drew a deep breath. Again. More able to think, he decided to call for a cab. His luck held. A cab pulled up to valet parking in front of Marina Jack’s formal restaurant, the patrons entering, well-heeled and dressed to kill, their beautiful well-maintained faces laughing and joyful, were oblivious to the coming destruction.
He slid into the back of the cab, spitting out his address. His heart began to hammer again, sweat dripping from both temples. He loosened his collar trying for air. The driver watched him from the rearview mirror.
“You okay, buddy?”
“Yeah,” he gulped. “Just drive, I’m in a hurry.” Thinking of Lita’s beautiful face marred by the ugly hole in her head left him full of rage. If she was here, he would shoot her himself. The fucking American cunt. His blood boiled with the thought of how she must have laughed at him behind his back with her co-conspirators.
He suddenly realized he had no money in his pockets. No worries, he could get the cab fare from his man at the gate. He wondered who manned the gate today. Should he tell the help? Rejecting the idea, he knew he didn’t have the time to explain.
Quickly dialing his bank, he requested a wire transfer to the National Trust of Switzerland in Zurich. He watched the driver’s eyes pop in the rearview window when he mentioned the amount. As they pulled up to his house, he felt a buzz in his head. The gates were wide open and no one sat in the guardhouse. They driver pulled up to the front door. Jumping out, he ordered the driver to wait. He could take them to the airport.
Running up to his daughter’s room, he barged in. She looked up from the floor where she was brushing her dog. Oh God, the dog’s going to be a problem. She’ll want to take him.
“Hi, baby.” He rushed to her closet, taking down a piece of luggage. “You have to pack. It’s an emergency. Pack light. We can replace anything you need later. Your pup has to stay behind. We can’t take him. He’ll slow us down.” He saw she was still on the floor, holding the pup he had given her closely.
“Where are we going, Daddy?”
“To Switzerland for now.” He started to pull open her dresser drawers. “Come on, baby. We have to go. Put the dog down.”
“Daddy, I can’t leave him. He has to come.” She was going to give him a problem about that damn dog. I ought to wring its neck right now.
“Okay, we’ll deal with him later. I need you to pack now. I’ll be down the hall packing if you need me.”
“How long will we be gone?”
“We're not coming back.” Too late, he realized he probably shouldn’t have said that.
“I don’t understand. My swim trials are coming up in a few weeks. Is Uncle Andrew coming too?”
“Honey, I don’t know. Let me go so I can make some arrangements. Have you seen your Uncle Andrew today?” He was at the door, ready to bolt down the hall.
“No, Daddy.”
“Come on, baby. Get up and pack. Now.” Turning, he dashed out the door to find Andrew.
It didn’t take him long to realize they were alone in the house, the help nowhere to be found. He didn’t need this additional complication, now of all times. He descended the main staircase to the foyer. Walking to the back of the house, he passed the monkey cages and turned, entering his study. He went right to the library shelves. Pushing aside a line of popular junk bestsellers—who would bother checking behind them?—he exposed his safe.
Spinning the dial, he opened the door, pulled out his papers and the stacks of cash, shoving them into a plastic bag that he would pack into his briefcase upstairs. His eyes, engrossed in the papers, failed to notice an obstacle on the floor. Moving to his desk, he tripped over something bulky, sending him falling to the
floor, landing on his elbow, his papers and money spreading all over a dead body. Springing back from the cold body, his mind refused to register the horror before him.
He froze, hearing the click of a handgun. Looking up from the floor, he looked into the grim face of Andrew Brooks, his trusted long-time, right-hand man who stood pointing a gun at him, his eyes filled with ironic amusement.
Chapter 14
Jose’s plane landed at Sarasota Airport late in the morning. He was anxious to surprise Abby, but worried about her insistence that he go home to Sussex and wait for her there. He fully intended to get to the bottom of her bizarre behavior. Only then could he have Mama Diaz and the girls move down to Florida with them. This overriding goal pressured him to quickly reunite what was left of his adopted family. This insistence they go to Sussex was nothing short of bizarre, yet Abby had refused to discuss the issue on her cell.
Grabbing a cab after he got off the plane, he gave the cabbie his address. Sitting back, he realized his anger about the whole thing with Abby still hovered under the surface. He thought back two weeks ago when he had left for New Jersey, hoping he would be returning victoriously to Florida.
It hadn’t taken very long to find them. The excellent investigators had finally produced results. Scotty had driven to the Short Hills tenement as soon as he had obtained the address. Mama Diaz burst out crying as soon as she opened the door to find him there. He took her in his arms trying to kiss her tears away, observing how her formerly thick chestnut hair felt thin and was shot heavily with gray, her laugh lines now etched deep and permanent. Pulling him into the apartment, she insisted on making him tea while they caught up on family news.
While Mama Diaz made the tea, he looked around the tiny one-bedroom apartment. The girls shared the bedroom and Mama Diaz slept on the sad, ugly sofa in their combination living room/kitchen. As he stood on the chipped linoleum floor, he took note of the bars on the one window in the apartment. The kitchen boasted a substandard-sized refrigerator, a white stove and a scratched white enamel sink built into appalling chipboard cabinets and linoleum countertop. Set on the wall over the kitchen table, Mama Diaz’s own crucifix from Lily Pond Road proudly graced the wall. He hoped her religion provided her with great comfort because she sure wasn’t getting it from the dump they lived in. His blood boiled when he thought about the house waiting for her and the girls in Florida.
Mama Diaz set the tea down on the table. Jose pulled out a rickety chair for her, urging her to sit.
“Mama, I need to know. Why did you move to Short Hills? I don’t understand.”
“Jose, you’re such a good boy. I couldn’t have Bonnie and Emma live in the pigsty my Tomas took us to. He knew better. Something was definitely not right with my Tomas. I think he just wanted us out of the way.” She shook her head, pain etched in her weary eyes.
“And there’s this Armoni. Did you know about Kelly’s brother? The man is hideous. I couldn’t have him around the girls. It boggles the mind that my boy took us there. I did think about coming back home but Tomas said we had to leave you alone. He said Abby was glad to get her house back. I couldn’t barge in on you kids. The very next day he brought us here. It’s better than being at Kelly’s house. Tomas paid for the first month’s rent and the security. He took us to the grocery store, and then we never saw him again. He just left us here.
“I found a job at a grocery store fifteen blocks from here. I got the girls into a school with some decent teachers. They seem to be as happy as can be expected under the circumstances. Emma has a part-time job in the nursing home a few blocks away. She works on weekends. I applied for public assistance last week. I should hear soon. It will be such a big help.”
The tears slipped silently from Jose’s eyes. He put his arms around his adopted mother. They cried together.
“It’s over, I’m here now. We found you. You’ll come to live with us.” Jose held her as he told her of their new life. He told her about everything except their isolation and the secrecy.
After having tea, Mama Diaz and Jose went to the grocery store to buy treats for a surprise celebratory dinner. They bought fresh meat and vegetables, as well as bacon—an unheard-of treat—not to mention cupcakes and ice cream. Their giddiness and excitement about the future allowed Mama Diaz to laugh and exclaim over the sinful extravagances. Jose had so much fun showering Mama Diaz with goodies that everyone in the store watched them enviously. Such a sign of prosperity was very unusual in their neighborhood.
Loading their purchases in Jose’s rental car, they talked about the upcoming science project at Emma’s school.
“She is very proud of her work, an elaborate diorama of the creatures which the planet has lost through extinction in the last one hundred years. Emma is very artistic. She did all the drawing and models herself. Her project won’t be presented for another week. I think it would mean a lot to her if we could wait until she presented her project before we leave. Do you think we can wait that long?” Mama Diaz looked anxious as she unpacked the luxuries from the market.
“Mama, we can wait as long as you guys need. We’ve waited this long. What’s another week?”
When the girls came home from school, he winced at how ragged they looked. It took him awhile to realize it was exactly how they had all looked when they lived together on Lily Pond Road. They lived so differently in Sarasota that the contrast was painful.
Emma had finally found a growth spurt, and was now a spirited yet serious young lady. Bonnie, still very young, her short curly brown hair framing her round impish face had yet to lose her baby fat even though she stood to finish her freshman year of high school soon. As much as he missed Abby, with Mama and the girls he felt surrounded by a feeling of home. And it wasn’t because he was back in New Jersey. It was because this was a vital and missing part of his life. He didn’t get this feeling in Sarasota. He needed it. They all needed it. It just made him more anxious to get everyone safely back to Florida.
Not surprisingly, the description of Jose, Abby and Scotty’s new life shocked them all. The girls went wild, excited over the possibilities. Jose knew, though, that he would have some questions to answer. And they came soon enough.
They finally finished the first meat-filled dinner the girls had seen since they had moved; the apartment was filled with the warmth of savory roasting juices. No longer would they be forced to subsist on cheap beans for their protein. Hilarity and horseplay between Jose, Emma and Bonnie escalated just like old times.
“Jose, why don’t you take those silly glasses off? You wear them all the time. Don’t you get sick of them?” Bonnie tried to swat them off as she teased him. Jose ducked, eluding her flying arms.
“Bonnie, please behave, Jose didn’t come all this way to put up with your bad manners.” Mama Diaz got up to give Bonnie a swat. The girls quickly settled back down under the watchful eyes of their exasperated mother, enjoying their unexpected dinner. Bonnie and Emma rose to clear the table, not needing any prompting from their mother. As the girls worked, Mama Diaz placed her hands atop Jose’s.
“My boy, you are so good to us and we love you for it. But I must ask. Where is all your good fortune coming from? How can you afford to live in such homes in Florida and do all of this for us?” Jose looked deep into her confused trusting eyes. He reflected on the unwavering loving support that had saved him as a young boy, knowing no English, traumatized by the tragic deaths of his parents and being wrenched from the only home he had known in Costa Rica. It was through her efforts that part of the hole in his soul had healed. She deserved every drop of comfort his good fortune could bring to her and the girls.
“Mama, I have something important to try to explain to you. Emma . . . Bonnie, could you both come sit down?” The girls looked somber at his unexpected tone. They sat, looking at him expectantly.
“I don’t know how to tell you this.” Jose put his hands on top of his head in frustration and fear. “I need to tell you that I love you all very much. I would
never do anything to hurt you. Do you believe me?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Of course.”
“My boy, what is it?” They all looked curious. Not scared yet, but he knew it would come.
“You didn’t rob a bank, did you?” Emma and Bonnie cracked up, rolling their eyes comically. Jose sat silently, not knowing how to start, his tongue a leaden slab in his mouth. They stared at him with anticipation, breathless for what would clearly be a bombshell.
“You did, didn’t you?” Emma whispered the accusation.
“Oh my God. He did.” Bonnie clapped her hands over her mouth, amazement lighting up her face.
“No, I told you. It’s not that.” He took a deep breath and reached up to remove his sunglasses. Mama and the girls looked as if they had been slapped.
“Holy shit. What happened to your eyes?”
“Emma, watch your mouth in this house. Oh, my poor boy. What happened?” Mama, first wringing her hands and making the sign of the cross, searched her pockets for her rosaries. The brilliance of his eyes reflected into the room. He tried to remember how shocking this must look. Should I go any further? Can they handle the whole truth? How can I avoid telling them? Overwhelmed, he put his head down on the table, his arms burying the glow from his eyes.
“Abby and Scotty have it, too.” His voice sounded hollow from inside the shelter of his arms. Mama got up from her seat to put her arms around Jose.
“My boy, does this have anything to do with your new wealth? Please tell us, Son. We’re going to support you, no matter what. You know that. We’re family.” Her gentle supportive words felt like a balm on his young soul. He wanted desperately to lift the burden of secrecy off his inexperienced shoulders. He broke down, telling them everything. Exhaustion defeated him as he finished most of the unbelievable story. Mama got up hurriedly, putting on the teakettle. The girls looked at him with renewed interest.
Alien Species Intervention: Books 1-3: An Alien Apocalyptic Saga (Species Intervention #6609) Page 49
