The Babel Conspiracy
Page 16
“What’s happening to us? Do we want to be destroyed as a nation? We’re acting like lambs being led to a slaughter. We’ve cut our military, done nothing about closing our porous borders, refuse to support our allies, and now we don’t even care if our country is turning into Nazi Germany complete with internment camps!”
“What do you like? Burritos or tacos? I think their tacos are the best but their burritos are . . . .”
“There are nine countries that have nuclear capability. Iran will soon make it ten. And they’re all building intercontinental ballistic missiles. Russia has almost eight thousand nuclear warheads. If any of these were ever sold on the black market and Kamal got hold of them, he’d . . . .”
“Since when have you been so up on current events?”
“I have to keep up with you, don’t I? You’re always going on about these things. And I’m really ticked off right now that we’re letting this stuff happen. Iran’s been buying up Russian missiles. Iran—one of Kamal’s biggest supporters! It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that ISA would love to add a nuclear war head to their arsenal. And I’m sure you’ve heard how Iran has been conducting amphibious training exercises under contaminated conditions. Not too difficult to figure out what they’ve got in mind.”
“Where are you getting this info?”
“My uncle. He’s furious over what’s going on. He’s a real patriot. Bleeds red, white and blue. And he says . . . why are you stopping?”
Joshua had pulled the car off the road and put it in park. Without saying another word, he leaned sideways and kissed Cassy.
“Why . . . why did you do that?”
Joshua grinned. “How else could I stop you from talking?”
“Boy are you nervy! I could just . . . .”
“Do I have to kiss you again?”
Cassy leaned closer to Joshua. “Yes, I think you’d better.”
• • •
Empty coffee cups and a crumpled paper bag that had held sandwiches from the local luncheonette were grim reminders that another dinner had come and gone with Trisha, Mike, and Buck consuming nothing more than bread and cold cuts. Now, all that remained were a few crumbs scattered across the table top and a brown coffee ring.
It had become a ritual, the three of them eating together, sometimes in Trisha’s room, sometimes in Mike’s or Buck’s. Trisha and Mike had not dined alone since the night they held hands over a half eaten chateaubriand.
Hours had whirled into days and days into weeks. Everyone at Gibs Town was keeping a grueling pace, including Trisha and Mike who sat, exhausted, listening to Buck.
“This Najjar Haddad is a character. All his papers are forged: driver’s license, social security number, the works. And they’re good forgeries, too; good enough to pass his background check. But Najjar Haddad doesn’t exist. Even his home address is an empty lot. So I lifted some prints off his tools and gave them to a friend in the FBI. His real name is Azad Hosseini and he is a known member of Islamic State of America. The FBI has him in their sights now and tailing him 24/7. That’s straight from Peter Meyers by the way. And the Feds are getting ready to pick him up. ”
Buck winked at Trisha who sat staring at him in amazement. “But before they nab Haddad aka Hosseini, I’m going to have a personal interview with him.”
“Buck, you’re getting too old to play Sam Spade,” Mike said. “Why don’t you let the FBI or Pete handle it from here?”
“You know how I feel. If you want the job done right, do it yourself. Besides, I’m not that old, yet.”
“Okay,” Mike chuckled. “But be only as persuasive as you need to. I don’t want to have to bail you out of jail for assault.”
After Buck left, Mike lingered in his chair. “You need to be careful, Trisha. Until we get this thing figured out and under wraps, I want you to employ the buddy system. Don’t go wandering around anywhere by yourself. And another thing, don’t drive your car until Buck has checked it out. And I mean each and every day!”
Mike rose and walked to the door that divided their rooms. “I wouldn’t like it if anything happened to you.”
Trisha followed him. “I’ll be careful. Good night.”
Instead of leaving, he pulled her closer then kissed her. When he let her go, there was a boyish grin on his face. “You could ask me to stay the night. That’s one way I’ll know you’re safe.”
Trisha opened the door between their rooms. “Good night, Mike.”
“I’m desperately in love with you, Trisha. I think you know that. But the thing I need to know is do you love me?”
“More than life.”
“Then be with me, as a woman should be with a man. I’ve never loved any woman more, or wanted any woman more. And judging by the way you kissed me back I think you want me, too. When Renee was alive I understood that you didn’t want to get involved, but things are different now.”
“How can I explain? How can I make you understand that what you ask is wrong? That it wouldn’t be God’s best . . . for either of us.”
Mike’s eyes caught sight of the cross hanging from her neck. “What’s the matter, Trisha, doesn’t your God like sex?”
“He’s the one who invented it.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
“I know,” she said, her voice soft. “It’s just that sex is supposed to be exclusive between a man and his wife.”
“Is that what you want? Marriage? Are you one of those women who use the promise of sex to obtain a piece of paper?” When she didn’t answer, Mike frowned. “I’m sorry. That was stupid. I know you believe what you say. I just don’t understand it. I’ve never been much for religion.” Mike leaned against the door jamb. “But this is important to you isn’t it, this God of yours?”
“Yes.”
“So where does that leave us? Do we have a future?”
“I don’t know. Two people need more than physical attraction or even common interests to make a relationship work. They need a firm foundation.”
“A what?”
“‘Unless a house be built upon the Rock, it cannot stand.’”
“Bible talk?”
Trisha nodded.
Mike leaned forward, his face inches from hers. “Don’t let this God of yours come between us.”
“If you knew how much He loved you, Mike, you wouldn’t talk that way.”
“I don’t know anything about God or His love. I only know how I feel about you.” Then with a click, the door closed between them.
• • •
Buck knew the Feds were somewhere nearby as he followed Najjar Haddad aka Azad Hosseini down Everman Boulevard and into the Everman City Park. He still couldn’t imagine what business Hosseini had here. It was his last chance to confront the creep before his arrest. He hoped if he needed to use a little muscle, the Feds would look the other way.
He passed a long line of pines. Clusters of yucca, candelilla, and guayule were positioned between the trees. And here and there were jogging paths, picnic areas, playgrounds, as well as scores of benches for those who wished to do nothing but watch everyone else. And at the other end of the park was a sizable manmade lake stocked with a variety of fresh water fish. But other than fishermen used it. Lovers would canoe its smooth waters on lazy afternoons, and children would swim in the special section roped off for that purpose.
If Buck wasn’t careful, it would be easy to lose Hosseini here.
When Hosseini sat down on a nearby bench, Buck took cover behind a clump of bushes, then pulled out his cell phone. He pressed “video” when he saw another man, neatly dressed in an expensive, gray suit, sit down beside him.
What was Robert Gunther doing here?
“This better be good, Hosseini. Getting me out here . . . . ”
“What did you want me to do, go to your office?”
“No. The place is under tight wraps. A cockroach couldn’t squeeze through! Ever since the helicopter explosion and car bombing it’s been like Fort Knox.”
“I was told you were the best. Now all I hear are excuses. I’ll report this.”
“Don’t threaten me. People who do, don’t live to do it again.”
“One week, Hosseini. That’s all you have left. Then we’ll call in someone else.”
The thin, suited man walked away, followed by an agitated Hosseini. Buck couldn’t hear the last of their conversation but waited until Gunther disappeared then left his place behind the bushes. “Hello, Hosseini.”
The man looked stunned as he realized Buck had been nearby all along. “The name is Najjar Haddad.”
“That’s not what the FBI says.”
Without another word, Hosseini bolted, then Buck after him. And even though Buck had fifteen years on the man, he was able to overtake him with ease. He wrestled him to the ground, then pinned his arms with his knees. Clutching Hosseini’s shirt in one hand, Buck’s other hand formed a massive fist which he positioned inches from Hosseini’s face.
“You have just one chance to answer my questions.”
“You don’t scare me. You don’t know what fear is until you’ve been around the people I know.”
“You mean like your buddy, Kamal?”
For an instant Hosseini appeared frightened. “Who is he? I know no Kamal.”
Buck tightened his grip on Hosseini’s shirt. “But you know Gunther. Why did he hire you?”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“I want to hear it from you.”
“Then you’ll hear nothing.”
“Here’s a news flash. The FBI are waiting to arrest you. But first they said I could have a little talk with you and that they’d look the other way.” It was a lie, the part about the FBI looking the other way, but Buck hoped it would frighten the man in his grasp.
Hosseini laughed. “You soft westerners. You think a threat of a beating can break a man. You are women! All of you.”
“Well, how about we put you in Fort Leavenworth for awhile, where a lot of soldiers are serving time. But the thing is, most of them had a buddy or someone they knew who died in Afghanistan or Iraq. I’m sure they’d like to ask you a few questions, too. And I wouldn’t count on Gunther lifting a finger to help you, either.”
For the first time Hosseini’s face whitened. “You can’t do that. Your law wouldn’t permit it. And if anyone lays a finger on me I’ll claim discrimination. I’ll say you’re discriminating against me because I’m a Muslim. It’ll rattle the cages of the ACLU and a host of Muslim activist groups. You wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Ever hear of paperwork foul-up? It can be done, believe me it can be done. And before anyone knows where you are, you’ll have a thousand or so ex-U.S. military inmates as constant companions.”
Hosseini’s body melted into the ground. “Okay! Gunther hired me to steal specs from the research lab’s safe.”
“And?” demanded Buck.
“And . . . to relay any information about your secret project.”
Buck pulled on Hosseini’s shirt raising him off the ground. “And?”
“And nothing . . . that’s all!”
“What about the autoclave and the helicopter? What about Mrs. Patterson?”
Hosseini shook his head. “I wasn’t hired for that. But don’t think I wouldn’t have loved doing it and more!” He began laughing. “You think I’m the only one hired? That I’m your only problem?”
Buck released his grip causing Hosseini to fall backward. Then the strong, square man rose to his feet. “Your life won’t be worth two copper pennies once the ISA hears how you cooperated with us.”
Then he walked away, leaving Hosseini sprawled on the ground behind him.
• • •
Mike fingered Buck’s phone. “So, Gunther wants our specs. That means someone is paying him. Who and why?”
“Maybe an airline that invested in one of the new planes? The Boeing 737 MAX or the 787 and wants to know what they’re up against. Or . . . could be another airframe manufacturer checking out the competition. Then there’s always the possibility that he’s working on behalf of Tafco Oil. After all, nuclear fusion isn’t exactly in their best interest.”
“Maybe.”
“Would you like me to ask him?”
Mike chuckled. “No.” He slipped Buck’s phone into his pocket. “I’ll ask him myself.”
• • •
Even from this distance Mike recognized the thin frame of Robert Gunther sitting on the bench. When he phoned Gunther he had insisted they meet in the park. During the call he sensed Gunther’s reluctance and was glad. He wanted him off balance, like a teetering Humpty-Dumpty.
With an easy confidence, Mike erased the distance between them until at last he was standing over the pale man.
“Hello, Robert.”
The face jerked into a sickly grin as Mike sat down.
“I haven’t been here in years. Forgotten how nice it is. And what memories! I had my first fistfight here when I was a kid—a fight between me and Nick Kelsey. I doubt you’ve ever heard of him. You didn’t grow up around here. But Nick was a punk; the number one bully in the neighborhood, and he tried stealing my baseball cards. Then after I beat him, I collected my first kiss, right over there,” Mike pointed to a redbud tree in the distance, “from Marylou Turner, the prettiest girl in town. Quite a day.”
“I never knew you to go in for nostalgia.” Gunther’s smile remained frozen, like a lemon wedge, on his face.
“Shows how little we know each other. For instance, I didn’t know you had such unsavory friends.” Mike pulled Buck’s phone from his pocket and played the video.
“What are you going to do?” Gunther asked when it was over.
“What do you think?”
“I’d leave it alone if I were you.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Someone could get hurt if this went any further.”
“Is that a threat?”
Gunther’s eyes narrowed. “The people I work for have friends, powerful friends in high places.”
“I have evidence, remember? And this is still a country where one is tried by his peers. I don’t think your friends are powerful enough to buy out an entire judicial system. You know, Robert, there’s more value in nostalgia than people realize. It shows that the past is not so different from the present.”
Gunther rose to his feet. “I’m not Nick Kelsey and the stakes are much higher than baseball cards. You won’t find me so easy to beat.”
• • •
Mike tapped his fingers on the arm of the velour settee, wishing Abraham Levi would get to the point. Levi had been viewing Buck’s video for the last fifteen minutes, playing it over and over. But Mike supposed a man didn’t get this rich by being a careless lawyer.
He studied the splendid hand-milled paneling, the expensive oak furniture, the two Tiffany floor lamps, the small Monet on the wall, the plush carpeting, then watched Levi rise from his desk and go to the corner bar and pour out three Perriers. His large diamond ring flashed as he handed one to Mike, the other to Peter Meyers. Then he returned to his desk and replayed Buck’s video.
“Well,” Levi said, at last, “you don’t have a case.”
“What do you mean?” Mike shot. “The video . . . .”
“shows nothing except that Gunther knows a creep like Hosseini. And what does Gunther say, really? He never mentions what he hired Hosseini to do. A good defense lawyer would destroy it in minutes. Listen.” With that, Levi played the video while they sat silently allowing it to pound home the reality of his words.
“An
d what about Hosseini’s confession?” Mike asked.
“The FBI has him now. They’ll want to use him to catch bigger fish. I doubt we’ll get any cooperation if we pursue a case against Gunther.”
“So what you’re saying is that we’re going to have to let Gunther get away with it.”
The lawyer’s wooly-covered head bobbed up and down. “In a manner of speaking. But actually, he hasn’t gotten away with anything. Both of Hosseini’s break-in attempts failed. You’ve already tightened security. The thing to do now is keep an eye on Gunther.”
“This doesn’t sit well, Abe.”
“Mike, your company’s been bombed, your private helicopter carrying an employee, destroyed. You’ve lost part of your home, and then of course . . . Renee. You have enough problems. Concentrate on them. We’ve been friends a long time. Your father and I were friends, and I’m telling you as a friend, don’t waste yourself on this. Revenge can be expensive. And in the end you could still end up with nothing.”
Mike frowned. “You don’t understand. I’m not interested in revenge. I’m fighting for my company’s life.”
Then he turned to Pete who had not wanted to go after Gunther until they had more evidence. “Don’t say, ‘I told you so.’ But you win. Tomorrow, Gibs Town goes on triple shift. The P2 comes first, and we are going to finish her in record time. Maybe then this madness will stop.”
• • •
CHAPTER 11
The smoke was so thick Joshua had to cover his face to keep from choking. Flames, fifty feet high, licked the night sky, crackling and hissing as it evaporated buildings a hundred years old. His eyes teared as he maneuvered through the angry mob. Bricks and bottles sailed overhead crashing into storefront windows as gunfire popped in the background.
The chant of Allah Akbar rose from bearded young men as they moved through the crowd. Fights broke out among gangs, their affiliations indicated by the different colored bandanas around their heads.
When Joshua saw three men beating a woman unconscious, he fingered the Beretta in his pocket, then realized it was too late to help.