by Bob Hamer
They spent the better part of the afternoon making paper flowers that became part of a large bouquet. Each child also made a card individually decorated with a personalized message. The cards ranged from Hallmark quality to the barely legible, but each was made with genuine love for a gravely ill classmate.
Caitlin had to answer a lot of questions, and the answers did not come easy. She wanted to be honest but not instill fear. Yes, Jaana is sick. No, you cannot visit her; only adults are allowed in that part of the hospital. Yes, she will be in the hospital for a long time. No, she probably won’t be back to school before Christmas. Yes, the doctors are doing all they can for her. Yes, it is okay to pray for her; and if you want to pray for her right now, God will hear those prayers. Yes, I am praying for Jaana, and I will continue to pray for her every night, just as I pray for each of you every night.
Caitlin knew the discussion of prayer might cause her problems. When news of the attacks of 9/11 hit the classroom in 2001, the children were very scared. Caitlin tried to reassure her students and even prayed with them. The word of her praying in the classroom reached a school board member, and Caitlin received a letter of reprimand in her personnel file. “A further violation of school policy will result in a more severe punishment.”
Matt joked she was still several reprimands behind him, but it bothered her that she was criticized for doing something that brought comfort to the children in a time of panic.
She carefully avoided leading a prayer on behalf of Jaana but allowed the children to pray if they wanted. Several mothers were in the classroom, so at least she had witnesses should a problem arise.
As the school day ended, Caitlin gathered up all the presents and prepared to drive over to visit Jaana.
MATT WAS IN THE physical therapy room and surprised by Caitlin’s call. Caitlin seldom bothered him at work, especially when she knew he was on an undercover assignment. “Oh, hi. This is a surprise. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m on my way to visit Jaana and just thought I’d check in.”
“Same old same old. Been at the clinic most of the day. Helping Omar with some of the patients and doing my usual janitorial chores.”
“Well, don’t quit your day job,” said Caitlin.
“You okay? You sound a little down.”
“I’m not down, just a little nervous. Not quite sure what to say when I get over there and hope I don’t run into Jaana’s father.”
“I wouldn’t worry about him being there. He’s spending almost all his time at the market, trying to make ends meet, but if you want to wait, I’ll go with you.”
“No, I’m fine.”
Matt had his back turned when Omar slipped into the room.
“If you need me, I’ll come, but as to what to say, don’t try to make the conversation happen. Jaana will love just seeing her favorite teacher. The opportunity will come. Your actions speak volumes. Remember what you always tell me: people don’t care what you know until they know you care. You care, Caitlin. She knows that. Listen, I better go. I don’t want to get fired from a volunteer job. Won’t look good on the résumé. You’ll do just fine. I love you, and I’ll see you tonight.”
“Thanks. I just needed a little pep talk. I love you, too.”
Matt turned to see Omar a few feet away.
“I could not help but overhear your call. I am sorry. You said the name Jaana.”
Matt reluctantly answered, “Yes, Jaana.”
“Is she from Afghanistan? That is a popular name in my country. Jaana means Allah is gracious.”
“Well, this little Afghan needs God’s grace. She is very sick and is in the hospital.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” said Omar. “What is wrong with her?”
“She has a rare form of cancer. The doctors aren’t sure she’ll make it.”
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could help her? I am registered with the Bone Marrow Donor Program. I am so hoping someday I can help. It can be very difficult to find a match. Maybe I am her match.”
Matt was struck by the incongruity of that statement. Do terrorists register to be bone marrow donors? “That would be a miracle if you were.”
“That is wonderful of your wife to visit her. She must be a very nice woman. She is a teacher?”
“Yes,” replied Matt.
“Teaching is an honorable profession in your country. We actually had two different systems of education in my country. Prior to the civil war, we had a public school system providing free and mandatory schooling. We had many universities. I attended the University of Nangarhar in Jalalabad. That is where I learned physical therapy and studied English. When the Taliban took over, much changed. Women and girls could no longer go to school unless they did so in secret.”
Omar opened the small refrigerator behind his desk and removed two cans of Coke. He handed one to Matt.
“Thanks,” said Matt, who was stunned by the gesture.
Omar continued, “The Taliban returned to the school system that existed throughout many of the villages. It was a religious system taught by the mullahs who conducted the religious services on Fridays. They would teach the men and the boys in the mosques. Although most of my country is Muslim, you could not get an education unless you attended mosque. To go to school, you would have to attend services. So much was different from what I find in your country. That is why I have a great deal of respect for the teachers in your country. Will I ever get to meet your wife?”
Matt hesitated and ran his fingers through his hair. He popped the top on the can of Coke and took a sip, waiting as if the answer could be avoided if he stalled long enough. Omar continued to look at him, anticipating an answer. “Sure, one of these days.”
Omar smiled. A genuine smile, thought Matt. Not the kind Matt often offered while working undercover as a practiced liar. Omar, at least today, seemed sincere, but Matt was reluctant to bring Caitlin any further into the investigation. The situation at Zerak’s market was troubling enough. Matt had no plans of purposely introducing her to someone who might be a terrorist. He was being paid to risk his life, but the job description did not call for risking the lives of his loved ones.
It was perfectly normal for him to be married in his undercover persona. In fact, it was usually preferable. When working undercover, it was best not to lie too much; otherwise, you could get caught in your lies.
Early in Matt’s undercover career, he told a target, a Mafia drug dealer, he was single. In a subsequent conversation, Matt happened to mention something about his “wife.” The elderly Mafioso picked up on the comment and confronted Matt about the inconsistency. Quickly thinking, Matt said he was married but separated from his wife and was in the process of filing for divorce. He still had a wife; he just didn’t like talking too much about the “witch” because her attorney was trying to squeeze him for all he was worth. The target laughed at Matt’s marital problems because he too had been through a costly divorce. Matt hastily changed the conversation back to a criminal discussion on drugs but learned a lesson: lie as little as possible. No sense getting killed over marital status or some other mundane fact.
“Please, when you know more, tell me about the little girl. I know very few people from my country, and maybe I could visit her someday,” said Omar.
Matt agreed to keep Omar informed but was extremely uncomfortable with the prospect of introducing Omar to nontargets, especially fellow countrymen who might share a common belief system. Possibly with time the issue would pass. Matt vowed not to bring the topic up and hoped to avoid discussing Jaana again in Omar’s presence.
CAITLIN ARRIVED AT THE hospital at five o’clock, just as dinner was being served. Jaana was asleep, and her mother chose not to wake her for the meal. The nurse on duty agreed to take the meal and return when Jaana awakened.
Nahid Anwari welcomed Caitlin and was so pleased wi
th the gifts and cards from the second-graders.
“My daughter will be pleased. The flowers the children made are beautiful. She will like the cards very much.”
“The gift basket is for the entire family. All the students and their families brought things your family might need while Jaana is in the hospital. There are several gift certificates for meals at restaurants in the area.”
“You are most kind,” said Jaana’s mother.
“How’s she doing?”
“She had more tests today. A new doctor saw her. They talk of taking away her leg to stop the cancer. She does not know that yet. Tomorrow the doctors will talk with all of us about our choices. It will be a very hard day.”
Caitlin sat down next to Jaana and touched her hand as the mother continued to look at her suffering little girl. “I am so sorry. I wish I had all the right answers for you. What can I do to make this a little easier for her and your family?”
“You have been so kind already. You have done much just coming here. Jaana loves you very much.”
“Well, I love her. She’s special to me.”
“Jaana says besides her family, she loves you and her kitten the most. She misses her kitten. We told her it is not allowed in the hospital. She is anxious to go home and be with her Palwasha. That means ‘spark of light’ in our language.”
A tear fell from Mrs. Anwari’s cheek, and Caitlin’s eyes began to mist.
“I am afraid for my daughter. Would you please pray again for my daughter?”
Caitlin looked at the mother. “I have never stopped praying for her, and I will continue to do so. I meant it when I said God has special plans for your daughter. I don’t know what those plans are, but they are special plans for a special little girl.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
As Matt wheeled the pail out into the alley, his cell phone rang.
“This is Matt.”
“Matt, it’s Steve.”
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Sorry to bother you. I hope I didn’t call at a bad time?”
“I wouldn’t have answered if you had. I’m participating in a highly technical, advanced hydromedical research protocol to eliminate nosocomial prodromal symptoms.”
“Huh?”
“I’m dumping the water I used to wash the floor of the physical therapy room.”
“Wow! I hope someday when I grow up, I can be an undercover agent. Listen, I know you probably don’t have much time to talk. Not sure if this is important or not. I tried to get a hold of SOG, but they’re working a kidnapping in Orange County.”
“What you got?”
“Somebody named Yasir called Zerak on the target phone. This Yasir is bringing two cases of reds and lights later this afternoon. Any idea what that means?”
“Yeah, thanks Steve. I’m afraid it’s not the nuclear football, but I think it’s counterfeit cigarettes.”
“Oh, guess it wasn’t important.”
“No, thanks for calling. I’m about done here. I may run over there and sit on the place for awhile. See if I can see anything.”
“Need help?” asked Steve.
“No, it’s no big deal. If I need help, I’ll give you a call. Thanks for the heads up.”
“Good luck with your medical experimentation program,” said Steve as he hung up the phone.
FROM DOWN THE BLOCK and on the opposite side of the street, Matt watched Yasir exit the store and waddle toward the late-model Cadillac. Yasir’s distinct stride made him easy to follow even in a crowd. A toddler with a loaded diaper walks with as much precision.
Yasir popped the trunk to the Cadillac, and Matt could see two boxes of what he guessed to be master cases of counterfeit cigarettes. Zerak came out of the market just as Yasir was lifting the first of the two cases from the trunk. The two men returned to the store, each carrying a box. Within two minutes Yasir was back on the street.
Normally Matt would never attempt a one-man surveillance, but because the sun had set, the darkness provided a perfect cover. He decided to try a loose tail. He had already copied down the license plate, so his main goal was accomplished.
Yasir made his way toward the front of the Cadillac and worked his corpulent body into the driver’s seat. Matt could see him on his cell phone.
Yasir completed his phone call and began driving south with Matt following from a safe distance.
After driving less than three miles, Yasir pulled into the parking lot of Valley College just off Burbank Boulevard. A yellow rental box truck, parked directly under a light pole, waited near the baseball field. Yasir backed his vehicle to the rear of the box truck.
The well-lit lot provided all the illumination Matt needed. He parked across the street and from this vantage point watched a Middle Eastern male exit the truck.
Matt quickly got on his cell phone and attempted to reach Dwayne but was only successful at reaching his voice mail. Matt left a message but sensed by the time Dwayne received it, it would be too late to muster the necessary manpower to conduct an adequate surveillance. Matt also sent a text message but knew that wouldn’t increase the chances of reaching Dwayne any sooner.
As Matt watched, the two men greeted each other with a traditional hug. Then Yasir counted out currency in front of the driver and handed it to him. In a move that spelled a less than confident belief in either Yasir’s math or his honesty, the driver counted the money again. With the financial transaction complete, the driver opened the rear of the truck for only a brief moment. It was long enough, however, for Yasir to remove four cases from the truck and put them into the backseat of his car.
When the two quickly parted, Matt had two choices. He chose the easier. He would follow the box truck.
The truck made its way out of the parking lot and headed east on Burbank. At Laurel Canyon Boulevard, the driver turned right. Matt was hoping he would eventually hop on the freeway, but when he continued past the on-ramp toward the Hollywood Hills, Matt assumed they were in for a long journey somewhere.
The congested winding canyon road linking the San Fernando Valley to Hollywood provided little relief for drivers caught behind the slow moving box truck. The route chosen proved ideal for Matt. He remained a safe distance behind, often as many as four or five vehicles, and had no fear of the box truck racing away at the next intersection. As the truck crawled through the canyon, Matt tried in vain to phone Dwayne. But now he was outside the coverage of the service provider and unable to obtain a signal.
Once they reached the summit, the pace picked up a little. On the other side Hollywood awaited. The night-lights made for a beautiful view.
The box truck eventually arrived at its destination, the self-storage facility in Hollywood.
Matt was amazed at the ease with which he was able to follow the truck, apparently undetected. The driver did nothing to evade a surveillance unit and, as far as Matt could tell, was not married to the rearview mirror. Even when he was within a car length, Matt never saw the driver checking the mirrors for a tail.
It really is better to be lucky than good.
The driver pulled up to the entrance of the facility and punched in the security code at the gate. The chain link gate opened, and the truck drove through. Parked just outside the gate was a metallic black Porsche Boxster containing a male occupant. When the gate opened, the man exited the car and walked through, following the truck.
Matt parked a safe distance from the facility and made his way on foot around the storage units. Giant oleanders surrounded the entire complex, providing perfect cover.
By the time Matt was able to wind his way surreptitiously through the brush, he was able to get within twenty-five feet of locker 270. The red steel door of the storage unit was up, and the two men were standing in front. Matt guessed the two were speaking in Arabic since he could understand n
othing of their conversation. He tried to memorize faces and descriptions of the duo. The Porsche driver was dressed in designer jeans, a black cashmere sweater, and expensive-looking shoes—a walking advertisement for Gentlemen’s Quarterly.
The storage facility had at least three hundred master cases of what Matt assumed to be counterfeit cigarettes based on the actions of Humpty Dumpty at Zerak’s store. The driver of the truck took a white business-sized envelope from his jacket pocket, opened it, and began counting out currency for GQ. Matt guessed the payoff to be several thousand dollars.
The truck driver then began loading cases from the storage unit into the truck. In less than five minutes, Matt’s suspicions about the contents of the cases were confirmed. As the man was loading a case into the back of the truck, the box slipped from his hands, crashed to the ground and split open. About a dozen cartons of Marlboro Lights packaged professionally in shrink-wrap slid across the asphalt driveway. The man yelled an obvious Arab obscenity and rushed over to pick up the contraband. He quickly surveyed the scene to make sure only his criminal associate witnessed the transgression and returned the cartons to the case.
Matt’s phone vibrated. He breathed a sigh of relief, realizing he had put the phone on vibrate earlier in the day. Matt looked at the caller ID. Dwayne was returning his call.
Matt quietly retraced his steps and returned to the car. He called Dwayne immediately. It took several minutes to explain the situation to Dwayne, who promised to send help. Just as Matt was completing the conversation, the security gate opened. GQ walked out of the facility and returned to the Porsche. The truck followed. The driver gave an obligatory nod to GQ and drove off.
Matt remained at the facility and watched the Porsche leave. He grabbed a plate as the Porsche passed, hoping to identify the registered owner of the vehicle.
