“The first time I met you, Mina mentioned how smart you were in school. Especially in science.” I tried to steady my voice. “You get that from your mother. Yasmin al-Tikrit.” My voice completely caved. “The woman you murdered.”
65
“You lie!” Kir screamed, so loud it sent a trembling sensation across my skin. The shotgun flailed from one side of the room to the other. “You are lying!”
“No. The lawyer speaks the truth.”
I whirled. Abdullah stood behind me. I didn’t know enough about guns to identify what he was packing, but it was big and looked as if it could fire off a thousand rounds a second from now till doomsday.
“I will thank you not to move,” he said evenly.
I had hoped that telling Kir the truth might stun him or at least distract him enough that he would lower the shotgun. Abdullah’s sudden appearance threw a deadly wrench in my plans.
“I have tried to help you, Kir,” Abdullah said. “But you betrayed me.”
“So it’s true,” I said. The gun was pointed my way, but right that second I didn’t care. “You’re everything the CIA thinks you are. I’m amazed you agreed to testify.”
“Your investigator knew too much about me. He threated to go to the authorities. I chose the lesser of two evils.”
“You were behind this all along. Except you manipulated Kir, this impressionable young innocent, into doing your disgusting work for you. You’re the real murderer. Of Nazir and Yasmin.”
“I needed Yasmin’s research. Acts of violence have become too commonplace. They no longer instill terror as they once did. We needed something new. But despite her debt to my family, she would not turn it over. So I sent this young puppet to get it for me.”
Kir whipped the shotgun around toward Abdullah. Standoff. Abdullah had the faster and more powerful weapon, but Kir could still do plenty of damage. “I’ve done so much for you. I killed Nazir. I framed Omar. I followed this lawyer and his friends.”
“As you should.” Abdullah smiled. “I have been training you since you were a toddler. Playing the strong older brother. Making you an asset.”
“You beat me. Degraded me.”
“I did what was necessary.”
“You used me.”
“Not well enough, it would seem. I told you to obtain Yasmin’s research.”
“I did.”
“I told you to bring it to me.”
“And I will. At the same time I give it to the US.”
“That is not acceptable.”
“I will give it to both of you or none of you.”
“You will give it to me or you will die.”
Kir’s face turned a bright crimson. “If you kill me, you will never find it.”
“I will torture you before you die. You will talk.”
“Do your worst. You will get nothing.”
Kir tried to speak bravely, but I could see he was terrified. For all that he shook, Abdullah remained calm, which gave him a huge advantage. “It is possible you might withstand torture,” Abdullah said. “Though unlikely, I think. But would you remain silent while I tortured your handler? This American woman? I have always suspected you had feelings for her. What about her brother, the lawyer?” I felt his gun pressing against me. “Will you keep your information hidden while I pull him apart limb by limb?”
A cold shiver ran down my back. I didn’t doubt this manipulative killer would do it.
“I will not give you the weapon,” Kir said defiantly. “Not unless both sides have it.”
“Then perhaps I will have to torture Mina.”
“Your own sister?”
Abdullah pushed his shoulders back. “The Koran says someone who betrays his people has no family.”
“You will not hurt her.”
“I will. Unless you give me what I want.” I stared into the black coals that man had for eyes. And I did not doubt he would torture his sister. Or anyone else who got between him and what he wanted.
Abdullah spotted me looking at him. “If you are waiting for your man to rescue you, I am afraid it will be a long wait. I saw him outside and disposed of him.”
My heart rose into my throat. I’d put Loving in danger one more time and . . . and . . . “What does that mean?”
His only reply was a smile. He grabbed me by the neck and pushed me to my knees. “Give me what I want, Kir. Tell me where it is, or I will kill everyone around you, everyone you know or care about.”
I watched a thousand emotions race across Kir’s face. He didn’t know what to do. “I have made so many mistakes.”
“Don’t give in to him, Kir,” I said. I felt Abdullah’s grip tighten around my neck.
“But—he will kill you.”
Like I didn’t know that.
“And Julia.”
I made eye contact with my sister. “Don’t give in. Either of you.”
“I am so tired. Of all these lies. Of everything.” His eyes turned wet and cloudy. “And I have killed . . . my own mother.” His face contorted with pain. “I must be punished.” Kir reached out as if to hand Abdullah his shotgun. Then, all at once, he whipped the barrel around and pointed it at his own head. “Goodbye, false brother. You may reshape the world. But you will do it without my help.”
“No!” I twisted out of Abdullah’s grip, leaped forward, and tackled Kir. Too late. My scream was drowned out by the report of the gun. Blood splattered into my face.
Abdullah rushed toward us, but he was too late to stop anything.
“Stupid boy,” he muttered. “Stupid, foolish boy. Just as weak as your mother. She trusted the Americans. She was seduced by comfort.”
I resisted the temptation to kill him with my bare hands and focused on the boy. Thanks to my tackle, the shotgun blast had drifted to the side of his head. He would end up mangled, but he might not end up dead. “We need to call an ambulance.”
“There will be no ambulance. He is better off dead.”
“No one is better off dead.” Kir was unconscious, and his pulse was faint, but he was still breathing. He could be saved.
“You’ll never get the weapon now, Abdullah,” I said. “You might as well leave and let me call for help. Go disappear again.”
“Would that it were so simple. But I fear now you know far too much.” He pointed his gun at me. “Your final mystery will be the one surrounding your own death. Yours and your sister’s.”
Behind him, on the stairs, I saw Loving’s head appear. The right side of his face was caked in blood. But he was alive. He moved slowly. Understandably. If Abdullah heard him coming, he could gun Loving down before he took another step.
I played for time. “Fine. Kill me. But not my sister. She’s the only sister I have.”
“She betrayed you. And your country.”
I stared at Julia, not him. “She made a mistake. Who hasn’t? There was another time when I betrayed her.”
Julia’s head shook violently from one side to the other.
“But I’m going to try to make up for it.” Behind Abdullah, Loving had reached the top step.
And then, all at once, the scene exploded into chaos. The whole mess probably took ten seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. Loving tackled Abdullah, but the strong man did not fall.
He swung around firing the gun.
Bullets drew long lines in the wall.
Loving dropped to the floor. Was he shot? I couldn’t tell.
Screams erupted from downstairs.
I don’t even remember thinking about it. I just rushed forward. I kicked Abdullah between the legs, then pounded the hand that held the gun. It fired again. The bullet went into a countertop, narrowly missing Julia.
I managed to get on top of him, one arm pressed under his chin, the other pinning down the arm with the gun. But he was stronger than me. Mike had tried to give me some self-defense lessons once. Right then, I wished I’d been a more attentive student.
I knocked the gun out of his hand. It skittere
d across the floor.
Loving picked it up.
Thank God.
“This is over,” Loving growled. “Skipper, get out of there. Take Julia with you. This asshole moves, I’ll kill him.”
Loving did have a knack for making people believe his threats. Abdullah stayed on the floor.
I was already at Julia’s side, tearing away the tape. “What now?” she said. “The people below heard the shots. Cops will be here in no time.”
“You have to get out of here.”
“But . . . Abdullah will tell them—”
“I know. That’s why you have to go.”
“He’ll tell them that I helped them.”
“The feds will be far more interested in him than you. For the present. But you do need to disappear.”
Loving rolled Abdullah over and pinned his arms back. He wrapped flex-cuffs around the man’s wrists.
“There’s no time to discuss this.” I tore off the last bit of tape, then wrapped my arms around her. “I love you so much, Julia. And I am so sorry . . . for everything.”
“No, Ben, I—”
I cut her off. “There’s no time. Get the hell out of here.”
Loving handed her his car keys. “Take my car. Leave it somewhere I can find it.”
She took the keys. “Ben . . . it can’t end like this.”
“It won’t. But you need to go. I’ll tell the cops you ran off and I don’t know what happened to you. It’ll be true. They won’t look that hard. Your terrorist associates might hunt for a bit, too, but they’ll have more pressing matters to pursue in the long run. Just keep your head down, and you should be fine.”
She threw herself around me, her face pressed against mine. “You never betrayed me.”
“I never will again. Go.”
She pressed her lips to my ear. “Emily is just fine. She’s not Joey.”
“I know. Go.”
She took the keys and disappeared into the night, just as I heard police sirens wailing in the distance.
66
Four months later, I saw Julia for the last time.
The truck stop on I-40 just before you get on the turnpike was best known, to the extent that it was known at all, for wicked, greasy fried chicken and the world’s greatest array of porn magazines, discreetly tucked away in high shelves and plastic bags. For my purposes, this location had only two advantages. I wasn’t likely to bump into anyone I knew. And if someone needed to depart in a hurry, they could fade away in about a dozen different directions.
Perfect for a reasonably well-known attorney and his little sister on the lam from the law.
I had to wait about forty minutes, which gave me far more time than I wanted to sample the truck stop’s coffee, if that’s the right word for that sludge. Even had a side order of Slim Jims and one of those hideous stuffed burrito things. I felt guilty about it, but they were short on yogurt and wheat germ.
Julia had dyed her hair, cut it short, and wore a torn hoodie, hood up. Glasses, too. I wondered if they corrected anything, other than an onlooker’s immediate recognition of the former cheerleader from Heritage Hall Prep.
She slid into the booth opposite me. We were tucked away in the corner, close to the exit, but still so secluded I didn’t think anyone could possibly spot her.
“I like the specs,” I said. “Armani?”
“Ha ha.” She leaned in close, wiggling her eyebrows. “It’s a disguise.”
“Thanks for calling. I was worried.”
She nodded. “Bought one of those phones at a convenience store. Used it once and tossed it. Had to wait until I was sure the feds weren’t monitoring your phone calls.”
“Even if they were, I think you were sufficiently cryptic. That reference to Flondie wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else.”
A big smile brightened her face. “Oh my God. That hideous doll you used to carry around all the time. Where did that come from? It didn’t even have clothes. And it wasn’t blonde.” She pointed a finger. “You were seriously messed up.”
“Mother bought it for you. I liked it better.”
“I never was the dolly sort.”
The table fell silent. I reached across, not quite touching her. “Are you okay? Do you have everything you need?”
“I’m okay. How’s Omar?”
I shrugged. “Left the state. Was in the process of changing his name.”
“Again?”
“Again.”
“But he was acquitted. Is he afraid ISIS will go after him?”
“No. He’s afraid the average Oklahoma redneck will go after him.”
“What’s happening to Abdullah?”
“He’s been charged by the feds with espionage and conspiracy and terrorism. They’ve put the case on the slow track so they can gather more evidence. They were grateful to Loving for catching him, but the truth was neither of us had much evidence against him.”
“And Kir is still alive?”
“Just. He’s making a slow recovery. And, sadly, as soon as he gets out of the hospital, he’ll be arrested.”
She lowered her eyes. “I wish he hadn’t done what he did.”
“Me, too. But I get it.”
“Are the cops looking for me?”
“I’m not sure they understand your role in what went down. Loving certainly didn’t tell anyone. Abdullah can’t really incriminate you without admitting his involvement. I think he’s hoping that if he doesn’t speak out against you, then I won’t speak out against him. And he’s right. So just keep your head down. I doubt anyone is actively looking for you. Few years and this will all blow over.”
“Maybe.”
I nodded. “Maybe.”
“But in any case—no fatwa.”
“No.” At least, I hoped to God not. “How did you ever get mixed up with those people?”
She twined a strand of dyed hair between her fingers. “I told you how dislocated I was. Divorced. Lost custody of Joey. Didn’t know what to do next. Had my life completely pulled out from under me.”
“It happens.”
“Yeah. To me. Let’s face it, Ben, I’ve been a total screwup since the day I stepped out of high school. Maybe before.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself.”
“I’m being honest. So here I was, lost and alone, completely without direction. And then these people came calling. Offered me a chance to do something with my life. Something that mattered.”
“Terrorism?”
“They called themselves advocates for political change.”
“No doubt.”
Her fingers curled into tiny fists. “I just wanted to do something that mattered. Like my big brother does.”
“What? Wait a minute—”
“You know I’ve always looked up to you. Here you were, crusading for your clients, helping out the little guy. And there I was, messing up my life over and over again.”
“You should’ve called me.”
“Yeah. I should’ve. But I didn’t.” She smiled again, just a little. “Glad I got to see my nieces, though. They’re adorable. And Emily is not remotely autistic. I knew it all along. But now it’s been confirmed by experts. She’s just off to a slow start. She’ll catch up soon enough.”
“Thank you for taking her to those specialists. While I was busy with the case. It took a big load off Christina’s mind, too. Although now . . .” I let it trail off. The rest was obvious. Christina wouldn’t have allowed Julia through the front door if she’d known Julia was involved with terrorists. Bottom line, she endangered the whole family just by showing up.
“I know,” Julia said. “But I did enjoy it, while it lasted. Even though it meant returning to . . . that house.”
With that, the mood darkened. Some burly, bearded trucker came in and started flirting with the ample woman behind the counter. The popcorn popper started its staccato song.
And Julia and I stared at one another.
“Our father was a real bast
ard, wasn’t he?” she said at last.
I pursed my lips. “I prefer to say he was wrapped up in his own world.”
“A complete egotist. And so judgmental. And competitive. And completely lacking in human empathy. If you weren’t just like him, you weren’t anything. I keep telling myself it’s time to outgrow blaming everything on Daddy, but . . . what he did .
We stared at one another across the counter.
“Okay,” she said, “I’ll be the one who puts it on the table. He hurt us. Badly. Repeatedly. I remember seeing your glasses fly across the room, he hit you so hard. Bashed your head into the side of a car. Made your mouth bleed. Knocked you unconscious.”
I closed my eyes. “I will never forget that time in the bathroom.”
“You and me both.”
“I heard him walk in on you. I don’t know what you were doing—”
“I was showering in the tub. I don’t remember what he was mad about. He was such a control freak. Spent the day completely ignoring his family, then came home and complained because everything wasn’t exactly the way he wanted it to be.”
“I heard you crying out. And I did nothing.” I swallowed. “Then I heard your head pound against the tile.”
“He hit me, while I was naked and vulnerable, so hard it knocked me back against the wall. Then I slipped and fell, which was even worse.”
“And I did nothing.”
“When he saw the blood, he started to cool. Stomped out. Lucky he didn’t go after you next. The following day he sent me to a doctor. Told everyone I fell in the tub. Left out the details.”
“And I sat in my room and did nothing. And, of course, we never said anything about it.”
“We were little kids.”
“I betrayed you.”
“There was nothing you could’ve done, not that time or a hundred others. Except gotten your head bashed in, too. He did that often enough as it was. I know this is why you’ve always been willing to go to such extremes for me, Ben, but you don’t owe me anything. Face it, it was child abuse, and we were both victims. You were too young and too small to help.”
At last I managed to open my eyes. “I still remember it. That time. And every other time. I can still hear you screaming. That’s why we don’t use that bed or bath.”
Justice Returns (Ben Kincaid series Book 19) Page 34
