Encountering Evil: Dark Horse Guardians Book Two

by Armstrong, Ava

  The home of Ali Farouz was an historical brick mansion in the finest neighborhood of the city. Filled with opulent furnishings and handmade Persian rugs, the officers searched for evidence of violence: broken furniture, blood stains and weapons. Swiftly, the officers swept through the first floor and moved to the second. As it turned out, the servant at the door had lied to them. There was one person at home and she was locked in an upstairs bedroom. Officer Bettencourt brought the servant to the door and demanded he unlock it. Then, Bettencourt softly encouraged the young woman to step out of the room into the hallway. "I'm Nadia," she whispered as the officer extended his hand to her. She was tall and slender with big brown eyes and long black hair. Dressed in Western clothing, nothing on her person identified her as Middle Eastern. "I'm Officer Bettencourt. Where is your father?" Nadia looked down at the floor. "He's gone but he will be back any moment." Bettencourt noticed she had visible bruises on her face and blood stains on her clothing. The young woman was trembling and he heard the fear in her voice. Bettencourt knew his only chance to interview her without her father's threatening presence would be to get her to the station and fast. Gently, he encouraged her to come with him and take a ride in his cruiser. The other two officers were amazed Bettencourt successfully coaxed her so quickly to leave. He had plenty of practice doing this in Iraq. He was an expert at removing innocent victims from dangerous situations.

  Once at the station, Randall Bettencourt brought Nadia to an interrogation room. He gave her a bottle of cold spring water and sat across the table from the shaky young woman. Rebecca Benson, his female side-kick was in the room, too. But Bettencourt was the one asking the questions. "Where did you get the bruises?" he asked her directly. Nadia's eyes darted around the room and her fear was obvious. She was shaking uncontrollably. Bettencourt left the room for a moment and winked at Rebecca Benson signaling her to take over. "Who did this to you?" Nadia looked at Rebecca Benson for a moment and hesitated. "This must stop." Rebecca said softly. "We're here to help you, Nadia."

  Finally, the floodgate opened and the girl started talking. She was intelligent and spoke English fluently. "My father is angry. I have a boyfriend and he is American. His name is David. He goes to my school. I have never even kissed David, but my father is accusing me of all sorts of things." Then the sobbing started. More of the story came out. The beatings were severe. Upon a cursory examination, Nadia had several broken ribs and was whipped repeatedly leaving long red marks on her back and legs. She had been punched in the face. Patches of her hair had been ripped out of her scalp. Also, food was being withheld for days on end as punishment. The young woman was emaciated.

  When Bettencourt came back, he knew the girl had opened up to Rebecca Benson. It was a cultural thing. Women talked to women. A strange man in a uniform was just another threat. Rebecca signaled to Bettencourt to step into the hallway. They closed the door watching Nadia through a one-way mirror. Bettencourt leaned in, "Did you get her statement?" Rebecca nodded, "Yes. Her father has been beating her. I recorded everything…now what?" Bettencourt's look became determined, "We arrest the son-of-a-bitch. She's only 16 years old. What he is doing is against the law. You can't beat your daughter and starve her. Maybe in his God-forsaken country it's fine, but not here." Bettencourt put Nadia into the capable hands of Officer Benson and took off with one other officer to arrest Ali Farouz. But the fat Pakistani was nowhere to be found. Bettencourt was frustrated, but glad for the chance to blow off some steam. He drove to his part-time job at the dojo at the end of his shift.

  ~ Lara ~

  As she walked through the front door of the blue and purple Victorian now owned by Eric Henderson, Lara inhaled and exhaled deeply in an attempt to calm the rage that seethed inside her every time she saw his face. She did not fear Eric but she could not let go of the anger that simmered inside her for what he did behind her back for eight long months. She was relieved to discover Eric was at work. Only the contractors were in the house. Lara and Monique walked through the extensive renovation with the lead man, Ralph Perkins. She was making double the profit on this job and paid attention to every tiny detail. She wanted to squeeze Eric Henderson for every dime she could get out of him…yes it was payback. But Eric Henderson had it coming. Lara's intern, Monique, had been keeping close financial tabs on the job working with Ralph and sourcing materials with Lara after hours.

  Lara spent an hour going over the progress of the job with Ralph and Monique. "I'll write up a detailed report and see that it gets e-mailed to Eric Henderson tomorrow. It will have a line item cost analysis attached, as well." Lara smiled. She had been working on the report since the job started and the add-ons were extensive. New flooring, gutting the entire kitchen, updated bathrooms, new custom-made historically accurate windows, new slate roofing, and the final item: a perfectly landscaped Victorian garden. That was one thing Lara did not have a contractor lined up for, however, she had a recommendation from Eliot Stone for a landscape architect. She fingered the business card for Grant Hawkins in her pocket. She would contact him tonight to schedule an appointment. She had heard good things about him; he was supposedly the best in the business. No expense would be spared on Eric Henderson's landscaping; she smiled to herself.

  Lara pulled into the dojo parking lot with her Fiat and grabbed her gym bag from the backseat. It had been a long day filled with frustrations, starting with the departure of Ben to Langley and driving to and from renovations in various stages of completion. Even though her renovation work was exhausting, she loved beautifying and restoring homes and making clients happy. However, she felt she needed the workout today at the dojo. As she sauntered up to the juice bar, she asked if Don Henderson had returned to work. The small brunette behind the desk phoned Don in his office.

  Lara could hear his booming voice from where she was standing, "Send her in…" she heard Don say with enthusiasm. She slung her bag over her shoulder and bumped right into Randall Bettencourt. "Hey, how are you?" Lara said with surprise. Randall Bettencourt seemed shy for a split second, then his face lit up with a smile, "Hey, how are you?" he chimed back. "I'm going down to see Don. Hey, I wanted to ask you about that situation…you know on the West End?" Bettencourt leaned against the counter seemingly calm as a cucumber, "Yes, I have news on that front. I'll catch up with you later." He headed into the mixed martial arts room to lead a class.

  As Lara pushed open the door to Don Henderson's office, he was nowhere to be seen. Hiding behind the door anticipating her arrival, he nearly frightened her to death. "Argh!" Don grabbed her from behind and she immediately knew she was caught in one of his silly traps. "I can see you’re feeling a lot better!" Lara laughed. The big man plopped down into his office chair and she sat across from him. Don's broad hands were on the desk and her finger lightly touched the back of his hand. "I've missed you, big guy." He grinned and joked about the pulled muscle. "Too much sex with Olivia, that's what the doctor said." He had Lara laughing so hard she could hardly contain herself. "What's the real prognosis?" Lara finally asked with a serious note. "Aw, these darn doctors. They think I need to lose some weight and get back to aerobic activities, like biking and, of all things, walking…" Lara noticed he seemed down hearted. "And, I'm diabetic." he added.

  Suddenly, Lara understood why Don had not been himself. "We'll work out together. I'd love to have you for a walking partner." Don smiled. Lara stood up to leave his office and she turned to hug the big man. Once forged of steel, the old Nam vet still had a lot of power left in him. "Are you up to a mixed martial arts workout with me today?" Lara asked. He looked wistful, "Nope, you've got Bettencourt again. That badass has two inches on me and a hell of lot more muscle. You've got your work cut out for you. Hey, how's Ben?" Lara looked down, "He's away but only for one day…he has a trip coming up though. I might get lonely and call you so we can be active together!" Don smiled, "You do that. I miss you, kid. No more trips to Pancake Heaven."

  After Lara suited up she searched for her mouth guard and
located it. Ready to tackle Bettencourt for mixed martial arts, she headed into the small room off the dojo classroom. Bettencourt was not there yet. She was a few minutes early but knew the class he taught had just left the building. The door softly opened and the tall police officer, Randall Bettencourt, was now a Ninja. His soft brown eyes met Lara's and he immediately smiled. She noticed his toned and muscled body in the loose fitting garb, "Hey, you look ready to kick someone's ass." he chuckled. Lara smiled back, "Yes, I was thinking of kicking yours…Ninja boy." He let her make the first move and she finally put him down, but he made it difficult for her. "Come on, Bettencourt, you candy-ass!" Lara yelled at him.

  ~ Bettencourt ~

  Bettencourt enjoyed it when Lara provoked him during a match. Little did she know, he was only toying with her; he was a mixed martial arts expert and could have taken her apart, if he so desired. But to placate her, he aggressively blocked her advances and put her on her back several times. Finally, he saw the fierce determination light up in her green eyes that made him smile. He teased her, "Aw, you fight like a girl…" She was fully engaged as she took him down. She went for his knees and with a few swift moves she was on top of him. She twisted his arm until he tapped out. She spit her mouth guard out and laughed, "Ha! Take that Randall Bettencourt!"

  She was breathing heavily and sweating profusely but Bettencourt thoroughly enjoyed her enthusiasm. As Lara released his arm and began to move off him, he swiftly pulled her back down onto the mat with amazing power. She was shocked and surprised but he'd seen Don Henderson do this with her many times and they usually collapsed into laughter. But there was no laughter now. Bettencourt had flipped positions with her and was slightly above her but not in a threatening way. As he pulled her down he relaxed and laughed good-naturedly. Her face was beautiful and flushed and so close to his he could smell her minty breath. Bettencourt watched as she spit her mouth guard onto the mat and hiccupped. Then the laughter started. They lay side by side on the mat giggling like four year olds. Lara's hiccups would not stop.

  "I'm sorry," Bettencourt blurted out gasping for breath. "No, it's my fault…" she cut him off. He knew Lara was saving face for him. Bettencourt quickly got to his feet and helped Lara up from the mat. He stood in front of her as an apologetic feeling flooded over him. He wanted to communicate to her, but no words came. He looked into her eyes and touched her hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep…" She smiled, "It’s okay, Bett. I trust you -- completely." His heart felt like it might burst. "One more thing," he said holding her gaze. "I checked out that abuse case you reported…and you were right. The father was beating his daughter and starving her. She's in a safe place now and we're trying to track the father down. Mr. Ali Farouz will have someone to answer to when I find him." Lara's eyes were wide as she took in the information. "Oh, good, Bett! Thank you for checking that out. You have done something that could change the course of this young woman's life."

  It wasn't pride that he felt at that moment so much as the honest and innocent admiration of Lara. And for a moment he allowed himself to soak in the wonderful feeling. He loved the way she looked up to him. He felt like her big brother. "Glad I could be of service." He turned and ambled away unable to stop the little smile that took over his face. He was aware of Lara's lingering stare as he turned his back and left the room. He sensed she was intrigued by the combination of power and tenderness in him and he smiled to think how little she really knew about him as a man.

  ~ Ben ~

  Thunderstorms delayed Ben's flight arriving in Norfolk Virginia. To make up time, he raced to get a rental car to drive to Langley Air Force Base. He never kept Kip Larson waiting as he was a man of little patience. Meetings at 7 PM took Kip Larson away from his family and he wasn't too keen about working after hours. But it went with the job and Ben knew Larson appreciated his brevity and efficiency when they had these off-the-record meetings. Ben changed into his jacket and necktie in the parking lot and brought only his computer with him through the security checkpoints. He walked inside the building after the guards cleared his familiar face through the gate. The biometric scan worked the first time and now he was on his way to the private room where Larson waited. At this late hour the whole place was gearing down for the night shift, although Langley Air Force Base was a bee hive of activity around the clock.

  The room was no bigger than a closet and the formality of checking one another for listening devices was performed in an efficient manner. "What's up?" Ben stared into Larson's black eyes. "Islam-berg, that's what." Larson said in a perfunctory manner. "Which location?" Ben probed, "There are more than twenty of them from what I understand." Larson played a training video from an upstate New York seventy-acre compound on an iPad for Ben to watch. The images were filled with anti-American and anti-Israeli chanting and guerilla warfare training camps. Larson elaborated, "Jamal al-Futwa has been responsible for more than fifty attacks on Americans thus far. This group has sponsored and performed terrorist attacks, assassinations, kidnappings, mass murders, bombings, arsons, grand theft, fraud…and more…all on American soil. Members of this group include the infamous shoe bomber, and the first World Trade Center attack in 1993 and they have direct links to 9/11."

  In a serious tone, Larson continued, "Here's where you're going to get sick to your stomach. Despite the criminal actions of the group, Butani's band of jihadi thugs hasn't been placed on the official Terror Watch List by the State Department. Thus, the branches of Jama al-Futwa, including the Muslims of Peace (MOP), continue to operate, flourish, and expand as legitimate non-profit, tax-deductible charities without interference from the FBI, the IRS, and Homeland Security. The FBI can't shut these bastards down because they remain listed as "religious communities"…oh for Christ's sake, Ben, government agents are undergoing sensitivity training…it pains me to share this with you." Larson paused for a moment, obviously agitated. Ben had never seen him frustrated to this degree.

  "If you take this mission, Ben, you need to know a few things before going in. The Islam-berg you need to infiltrate is located just outside of Springfield Massachusetts. There's a guy by the name of Ali Farouz. He has managed to obtain American reversed-engineered drones from a Chinese company. Their plan is to utilize the drones in a bio-terror attack, Boston Stadium is the target. It will take a while for you and your men to get inside this cabal of jihadists. Then, once you are in, you will have to live among them. It will be just like Afghanistan…possibly worse. I don't know if you're up for this…but, to be honest with you, I don't know anyone else that could do it. And I'm not kissing your ass. You're good and your team is the best. But, this is a mission that you need to really think through.

  Ben asked the questions that immediately formed in his mind, "What is the timeline? What is the bio-agent? Do you know when the attack is scheduled to take place?" Ben's questions hung in the air for a moment and he tapped his finger lightly on his knee waiting for Larson's answer. "Our best intel says the bio-agent is anthrax -- it will happen on September 11th at the NFL pre-season kick-off game in Boston Stadium. That means if you take this on, Ben, you will need to be embedded in the Springfield Islam-berg at least from mid-July until you can disrupt the mission, kill them if necessary, before they attack. You'd be immersed in this for six to eight weeks at least."

  For the first time in his life Lieutenant Ben Keegan was reluctant to accept a mission. Images flashed through his mind. You will have to live among them…the words burned into his brain. He envisioned poor sanitary conditions, horrible food, watching his back every minute day and night, and worst of all – being away from Lara. "What's the pay scale?" Ben queried with a wry smile. "Chief, if you pull this off, there will be a big payday at the end of it – three million – maybe more if the FBI Director kicks in a little. You'd get a million dollar bonus for killing them, you know." Ben looked into Larson's dark black eyes that held no hint of emotion, "I'll do it."

  A thumb drive was handed to Ben filled with information he needed to c
ommit to memory. The data on the drive would erase after one reading. "Lots of recon to do before you go in there…so, read this shit." Larson smiled. "I knew I could depend on you, Chief." Already Ben's mind was racing. He needed an insider, an informant that he could cultivate. Brains, not brawn, would win this mission…and a well thought out plan was formulating. He would need Nazmin's help with her Pakistan connection. On the flight home, the adrenaline coursed through his body and his mind was alive with the possibilities and the dangers. He fell asleep wondering how he would tell Lara.

  ~ Lara ~

  Lara was dialing the phone number on the business card for Grant Hawkins, the landscape architect. She already liked the name of his company, Secret Gardens. "Hawk," a deep sultry voice answered. "Hi Grant? My name is Lara O'Connell…I mean my name is Lara Keegan. I just got married. I'm the owner of Dark Horse Renovation and I have a client that needs an extensive landscape design bid…" she left the sentence hanging in mid-air. He responded immediately, "Sure, give me the address and I'll look at my schedule." Lara asked him if he had any free time in the coming days and he managed to find one hour, but it was late in the afternoon. "Would 7:00 PM tomorrow be all right? I'm sorry. That's the best I can offer right now being the busiest part of the season and all." Lara did not hesitate, "I'll meet you there." And she gave him Eric Henderson's address and described the blue and purple Victorian to him. "Oh, I don't think I'll miss that house." He laughed a little at her detailed description. She decided that he sounded charming on the phone.

  Earlier in the evening, she had Googled Grant Hawkins and poured over his Secret Gardens website, impressed with what she saw. She scrolled through image after image of beautifully manicured greenery ranging from lawns that looked like lush green carpets to topiaries and floral gardens. One client wanted a fairy garden and Grant Hawkins certainly delivered. The magnificent photos were featured on his website. He even provided tree-houses and gardens designed specifically for young children. The photo of Grant Hawkins was not what she expected. His voice on the phone sounded like an older man, but in the photograph on his website he appeared younger than she expected. His short dirty blonde hair and deep-set eyes gave him the appearance of a young man. She couldn't imagine how he could be so talented and experienced if he was that young. She looked forward to the meeting tomorrow at the purple Victorian.