A Bombing Enigma

by Angelika Lansdale

  “Because there were multiple copies,” Charles said rationally.

  “I remember when George had it printed at a local store. It was only the one print,” Elizabeth said.

  “Maybe he had it printed another time,” Bradley said.

  Elizabeth looked at him with slightly unfocused eyes. She seemed to be having difficulty in accepting the reality of a second print. “But why? And whom did he give it to? How did it get to Fatima’s?” she questioned.

  They all stood there puzzled. “Did you email the digital copy to anyone?” Bradley enquired.

  “No,” Elizabeth said emphatically.

  “Maybe it was Jimmy’s doing,” Charles said reflectively.

  “Jimmy?” both Elizabeth and Cynara echoed simultaneously.

  “Yes Jimmy. He was the only link between you and Abaan or Fatima,” Charles explained.

  “It is possible,” Bradley said.

  “But who mutilated it and threw it in the garbage?” Cynara asked.

  Elizabeth flinched in fear at hearing the word mutilated. Cynara immediately regretted her choice of words and said. “I am sorry. I meant cut up.”

  “It had been slashed with a pair of scissors,” Elizabeth said falteringly.

  Cynara was unsure of how to comfort Elizabeth. After thinking for a few seconds she asked, “Do we need to let the agents know about this photograph?”

  “No, there really is nothing to gain by it,” Bradley reflected.

  “Yes, true,” Charles agreed. “Abaan Khalid Fakhri is back in England. His presence is no longer a secret. He needs to be captured before he succeeds in his mission and vanishes again.”

  “There seems to be some animosity directed at all of you or at least some of you in this household, Fatima’s visit, the bomb in the mailbox, the slashed photo,” Bradley warned. “Please stay alert and take precautions.”

  They really had no other choice but to follow this advice. Bradley and Charles helped Mr. Drake in taking the boxes back to the attic. Bradley promised to call if he learnt anything new and left. Cynara felt anxious about leaving Elizabeth alone but she claimed she was fine. She was lunching with her friends, Marie and Nancy, at a club. It would provide the needed diversion.

  Charles and Cynara walked silently back to their cottage. Cynara pondered about all the deaths since her arrival in York two months ago. It had all started with her discovery of Jimmy’s letter, the letter that linked him to Abaan Khalid Fakhri. Abaan’s name coming to their attention had initiated a macabre series of events, three murders, and one suicide. He had to be the real adversary. That was the only sane explanation.

  The three murders were committed either by Abaan or by someone he used. Ruth committed suicide because of her relationship with him. All of them at the manor house knew the link between these deaths and Abaan. However, it was quite remarkable that the police and anti-terrorist unit released nothing to the press. Even Bradley Robinson, the reporter, was not reporting. How did they all keep it so confidential? Bradley had an inside source and similarly other reporters could also have their sources. Nevertheless, no one had reported anything in these two months.

  Once inside their cottage, Cynara told Charles what she was thinking. He did not have any answers. “Is it not better to release Abaan’s photo to the public and request for help? Someone might have seen him,” Cynara asked.

  “Yes that is possible. But it also might cause more harm than help,” Charles said.

  “How can it harm?” Cynara asked.

  “Because everyone really fears terrorism. If people are told there is a terrorist at large, it will cause widespread hysteria,” Charles said. “And it could also lead to racial intolerance.”

  “Yes that is true. Innocents can become targets in situations like this. I remember all the racial hate crimes in the US after 9/11,” Cynara agreed.

  So the authorities probably want to keep this off the record instead of giving press releases,” he said.

  Cynara made herself busy around the cottage. She finished all her household chores and cooked lunch. Charles suggested watching the local news while eating. They both settled down in front of the TV. Cynara picked up the remote and flipped to the news channel. Mr. Daniels appeared on the screen. His words totally discredited what they had just rationalized, “If anyone has any information regarding Abaan Khalid Fakhri, please contact us immediately.” Abaan’s photo was then displayed with some phone numbers.

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  “Well I guess they changed their minds about keeping this confidential,” Cynara watched surprised as the newsreader moved on to a different story.

  “Yes this is unexpected!” Charles exclaimed. “Hope they do not tie all this back to the Stewarts. Otherwise we will have the reporters camped outside soon.”

  “God I hope not,” Cynara muttered. “You think they would do that?”

  Charles shrugged and said, “I do not know. Let us keep watching. They will surely give a synopsis of what we missed.”

  After the segment completed, they did repeat the headlines. It was a brief press release with a few anti-terrorist personnel, Mr. Daniels, a Mr. Murdoch, and a Mr. Bailey. The newscaster stated there was a terrorist at large who might be plotting attacks in the country. He was thought to be in England and might be using a different name. Any information about his whereabouts would be appreciated. Abaan Khalid Fakhri’s photo was shown, the same photo that the agents had brought to the house. No mention was made linking Abaan with Jimmy or the Stewarts.

  Cynara and Charles were both relieved to see this. It was best to keep the Stewarts as protected as possible. Dealing with paparazzi could be very tiresome. Cynara had been pleasantly surprised to hear about Elizabeth’s lunch date. As far as she knew, this was her first outing with her old friends. She did not want to see Elizabeth regressing again. That would certainly be the outcome if the press connected Abaan with Jimmy.

  Jane called in the evening and, before Cynara could say anything, invited herself over. She had been visiting David in London the past week and was quite rattled by the men policing the grounds. Cynara brought her up to speed with everything. Jane and her parents were unaware of the letterbox bomb. Elizabeth had only shared the incident with her in-laws. Jane had also not heard of Fatima’s death or seen the press release. It was hard for her believe so much had happened while she was away. She had been too busy shopping and sightseeing in London.

  Jane was perplexed by the bogus Fatwa and wondered what it was for. Both Charles and Cynara admitted they were equally puzzled. Someone really wanted them to think a terrorist organization was involved. Then Fatima’s murder lent credibility to it. It indicated Abaan’s involvement. Jane was happy the anti-terrorist squad had broadcast Abaan’s information and photograph on television, asking for help. All three hoped it would lead to the desired outcome, Abaan’s arrest.

  Monday found Elizabeth in a chirpy mood. Her lunch with her friends had turned out to be very pleasant. They stayed and chatted until early evening, making up for all the lost time. Elizabeth confessed she had actually avoided them because of guilt. Marie Hall’s husband had been present in the same box and was killed along with George on that fateful day. Elizabeth also was supposed to be dead with the rest of them. Her conscience really pricked her about surviving when so many others had perished, all due to her chauffeur.

  “But you are not responsible for Jimmy’s actions in any way,” Cynara argued.

  “Yes I know that. Regardless, I still feel terrible remorse. He was our driver. We employed him,” Elizabeth said.

  “When you hired him how could you possibly have known about his intentions?” Cynara said.

  “Yes I see the logic in what you are saying. I know I am not answerable for what took place but it has definitely bothered me,” Elizabeth said slowly. “I loved George. His no longer being with me has been abominable. I have grieved him and grieved all the other victims. This grief sits very heavily on my heart.”

  “You have grie
ved enough. It was not your doing. You went yesterday, met with your friends, and are so much happier today. It is time to let go,” Cynara hoped Elizabeth would not take offence at her candidness.

  “You are right. I have been so scared. I was terrified of meeting Marie. What if she blamed me?” Elizabeth confessed.

  “But she didn’t,” Cynara said.

  “They are all good people, very forgiving. I met Marie at Ruth’s funeral. I was scared to look her in the eye. But I only saw concern for me rather than blame,” Elizabeth said.

  “On what basis can she blame you?” Cynara asked. “In fact, because of her you should now come out of your mourning.”

  “Why because of her?” Elizabeth asked looking bewildered.

  “Because she lost her husband that day. I am sure she would love to have a friend who visits and supports her,” Cynara said simply.

  “Yes, you are right,” Elizabeth said quietly. “I will try.”

  Cynara felt very happy about her tête-à-tête with Elizabeth. She hoped Elizabeth would heed her advice and shrug off her grief. It had been a full year, a lot of wasted time. George did not deserve such loyalty. The death of the other victims also had a big part to play in Elizabeth shutting herself off from the world. Time healed all wounds. Elizabeth’s misguided self-reproach seemed to be finally dissipating.

  Bradley dropped in the following evening. Charles was headed out for a prior social engagement. Bradley asked Cynara to join him for dinner at a nearby pub. Cynara accepted and they drove over. Neither of them discussed anything about Abaan or all the deaths or terrorism. Instead, they spoke about York, Cynara’s school, her childhood in Greece, politics, and movies.

  Bradley was a great conversationalist. It came naturally to him probably due to his profession. He had something to contribute on every topic. His insights into Middle East politics were very informative. There really was a lot of chaos in that part of the world. It was sad to think about certain cities that used to be so exotic and wonderful once upon a time. Now they had been reduced practically to rubble by all the civil wars and terrorism. It was very unfortunate.

  Cynara had lived in numerous European countries but never in the Middle East. She had travelled to quite a few places with her parents during the holidays, Egypt, Turkey, Dubai, and Israel. All of them had a fascinating charm, especially Egypt. They had taken a cruise on the River Nile and visited the pyramids. Egyptian history and folklore were very alluring and romantic. Cynara seriously hoped that peace would descend on all these troubled regions again.

  Cynara felt reluctant to call it a night after Bradley brought her back. She invited him in for a coffee. As they sat drinking, she asked about his family. All she knew was that he was from York and worked in London. Bradley willingly provided a brief biography. He was an only child and his mum still lived in York. His dad had passed away about five years ago. He had also been a renowned journalist and Bradley had always wanted to follow his example. Reporting was in his blood. He was very passionate about it. Bradley was now an investigative journalist and only published after thorough research. His Editor in London wanted the true story behind Jimmy and Abaan. He had commissioned Bradley to stay in York for as long as it took.

  Cynara was impressed by the simple way he talked about himself. She had researched him on the internet and learnt he was quite famous in the journalism fraternity. The newspaper he worked for was a very prestigious one. Cynara had read some of his articles from the past. He had covered the war and strife in many places in the Middle East. That seemed to be his expertise. Cynara asked him if he could speak Arabic and was not surprised to learn that he was proficient in it. He actually had a knack for languages and could speak not only Arabic but Farsi as well. Bradley certainly had a notable dossier.

  Bradley finally looked at his watch reluctantly and sighed, “It is late and I need to go. I had a great time.”

  “So did I,” Cynara concurred.

  “We should do this again soon,” he suggested.

  “Yes, that sounds good,” Cynara readily agreed.

  Elizabeth and Cynara were working in the study the next afternoon when Elizabeth’s cell phone rang. She saw the caller id and looked nonplussed. It was one of the police officers on duty outside. She accepted the call. Cynara felt quite concerned. She hoped it was nothing serious. It was the first time one of the officers had actually called. Elizabeth had a brief conversation. It sounded like there was someone visiting and the officer wanted Elizabeth’s permission to allow the person inside. Elizabeth agreed and hung up. She chewed her lip worriedly.

  “Who is it?” Cynara asked.

  “It is Fatima’s husband, Amir Abdullah. He wants to see me,” Elizabeth said slowly.

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  “Fatima’s husband?” Cynara asked surprised. “Amir Abdullah?”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth replied tersely.

  “But, but why?” Cynara almost stammered.

  “I do not know. We will find out,” Elizabeth said.

  Officer Bob ushered in a man with a swarthy complexion. He was in his 40’s, with an austere face and sad eyes. After the introductions, Bob looked at Elizabeth and asked, “If you have no objections, I will stay through this meeting?”

  Elizabeth nodded her head and said, “That is fine.”

  They all looked at Amir silently. He stood there for a few seconds as if assessing them. Finally, he asked in accented English, “Can I sit down?”

  Elizabeth immediately nodded and led him to one of the sofas. They all sat down. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

  “My Fatima is gone, dead,” he whispered painfully. “Abaan loved her. I no believe he kill her.”

  “The police are still investigating her murder. Nothing is certain yet,” Officer Bob interrupted.

  “Yes but police think it him, or his group,” Amir said.

  “We have to wait for the investigation to complete,” Bob asserted.

  “Abaan leave because of you,” Amir said to Officer Bob accusingly.

  “Because of me?” Bob asked surprised.

  “Yes because of you police. You think he terrorist. You lock him up. You treat him like animal. He become very angry, very angry. So he leave. It your fault,” Amir said strongly.

  “It was unfortunate circumstances. He was there when those riots occurred. We had to question everyone,” Bob said trying to be objective.

  “Yes but all Arabs not bad. You change him. Many people here ask him join them. But he no want to do bad. He say no and leave England. So why he come now and do bad?” Amir asked. “He not in England.”

  “Your wife called us about a message she received from him,” Officer Bob said.

  “Message come when I no home. But I sure he no kill Fatima. He her brother. He love her,” Amir responded firmly.

  “We have to wait for the investigation to complete before coming to any conclusions,” Bob repeated patiently.

  Amir turned towards Elizabeth and said, “I no believe Abaan bad. He leave England. Police say he write to Jimmy about plan. I no believe. So I come here to ask truth.”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said hesitatingly unsure as to how to respond. “We did find a letter from Abaan to Jimmy. They were in touch with each other.”

  “And Abaan talk about plan in letter?” Amir questioned.

  “You do not have to reply to Mr. Abdullah at all or humor him. He has no right coming here and harassing you like this,” Officer Bob interrupted firmly.

  Bob was just doing his job, protecting the members of the household. Cynara’s eyes shifted to Amir, whose shoulders had slumped at the words. His eyes were so sorrowful that Cynara felt wretched. Here was a man trying to make sense of his wife’s death. His brother-in-law was maybe responsible for the crime but it was probably difficult for him to accept. It would be tortuous for anyone to concede that a brother could be responsible for a sister’s death. That is what the evidence was indicating. Cynara was convinced that Amir was innocent of all the rec
ent incidents and just a victim like them.

  Elizabeth seemed to make her decision. She turned towards Bob, looked him squarely in the eye, and said, “Thank you Officer but we can continue this conversation by ourselves. You can go back outside.”

  Bob was certainly startled at her words. “Mrs. Stewart I am here for your protection. You do not know this man at all. He could also very well be involved.”

  “Officer, we are just talking. And I am sure our conversation will do us no harm,” she said firmly.

  Bob started to say something in objection but then realized it would be pointless. Elizabeth stood resolute. He reluctantly nodded his head and left. Amir looked at Elizabeth with renewed hope. It was almost as if he was expecting some kind of miracle from her. “Can I see letter?” he asked.