His thirteen-year-old sister, Marija, had been sent to Iraq last year for proper Islamic female schooling before she could be westernized. She had come back a mere shell of her former self. He would never allow the same to happen to him.
The Imam came over to him. “Ahmed! Your father will be very proud you are doing this thing! Are you prepared to meet your destiny?”
He nodded.
“I am not sure about your commitment to Allah, Ahmed! You make me wonder if your heart is truly prepared for jihad!”
“No, my Imam. I am prepared to do anything for Allah,” he said quietly.
“You don't seem as excited as the other boys. Perhaps I should speak to your father, so he can convince you?”
“No! I mean… no, my Imam. Please. I am ready. I promise.”
The old man leered at him suspiciously.
“You will be ready, Ahmed. There is no turning back now. I believe you will stay here from now on to make sure,” he sneered.
Damn! He should have faked it better. Now, he was stuck in this hell hole. He had to figure out a way to escape and warn someone. He didn't want to see his friends and family all die. He loved this country. He could not imagine people wanting to destroy it all.
55
Andrei was directing his crew at the jobsite when his phone rang. It was Barry Yant from the radio station.
“This is Andrei.”
“Andrei, this is Barry Yant. I got an email from you.”
“Yes, thank you for calling, Barry. I really enjoy your show.”
“Thank you, we try. What do you have for me?” Barry asked.
“This may be nothing, but you asked for information. My brother, Dumitru, lives in Moldova. He is coming here soon to work with me, but he got radiation poisoning a week ago loading something that was coming in on a truck.”
“Is that so? What do you think that has to do with us here?” Yant asked.
“He said the shipment was headed to Turkey and possibly out to sea. I don't know if it means anything or not, but I thought I should tell you,” Andrei said.
“That is interesting, Andrei. Let me check with a few folks and see if they know anything. Thank you and keep my number handy if you hear anything else,” Barry said.
“I will do that, Barry. Thanks for checking. Will you let me know?” Andrei asked.
“Yes, I will.”
Barry thought for a moment. He didn't trust many in the current force and none of the local Feds. They were always threatening to take him off the air. He looked in his contacts and called Jim Jackson. No answer. It went straight to voicemail.
“Jackson, I know you are out of the game, but maybe you can help me out here.” He left the message and clicked his phone off.
56
Dumitru was well enough to be up and walking around. He was out and talking to some of the nurses and other patients.
The doctor came over. “I got all of your tests back. You are 98% on most everything, Dumitru!”
“Excellent! Can I go home then?” he asked.
“Yes, I think you can. Why don't you take a shower and change into your clothes? I will have one of the nurses drive you home.”
He pulled the doctor aside and spoke quietly. “I cannot thank you enough. I am still waiting to hear from my brother whether the device has any connection to the US, but can we please keep this between us? It is gone now, and I never knew what I was doing,” he asked.
“So long as you stay in touch with me from America. I have always wanted to visit there,” the doctor replied.
“You can be sure I will. I welcome you there any time you want to come. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a trip to prepare for,” he said.
“Take care of yourself, Dumitru. I hope to see you again some day,” the doctor said as he hugged him.
“And I, you, Doctor. I can’t thank you enough.” Dumitru hugged him back.
The nurse dropped him off at his flat and he practically ran up the three flights, he was so energized. It was a far cry from the last time he had made the climb.
He unlocked his door and saw the mess his place was. He set about to cleaning. Mrs. Drazov saw the door open and came down the hall.
“I am so happy you are back home, Dumitru! It is so good to see you healthy,” she said, near tears.
“I owe it all to you, Mrs Drazov. You saved my life. I, uh… have something to tell you about my trip.”
“I know. You are going on a vacation to America,” she said brightly.
“No, I mean, I am leaving for good. I won't be returning,” he said.
“Oh no, Dumitru! What will I do without you?” She started crying.
“But Mrs. Drazov, I want you to come too. Once I get my feet on the ground and some money saved, I will send for you. I will rent a place with an extra bedroom just for you,” he reassured her.
“Oh, Dumitru! It is so far! I will miss my sister. I don't know if I can do this thing!” she cried out.
“Let me get there and settled. This will give you enough time to decide. I am willing to do this for you for everything you have done for me. Valeria can come as well.”
“We will see. Oh, Dumitru, I will miss you so very much!” She put her arms around him and cried some more.
“Please don't cry. This is a happy time. We are all well. We can get free once and for all from this desperate place. You will love it there, you will see,” he said.
“If you say so, Dumitru,” she said, sniffling. She pitched in, helping him to clean up.
“I have decided that I would like Valeria to have my car,” Dumtiru said.
“Oh, Dumitru! That is so generous! She will be able to help so many more people,” she said.
They had taken his keys and moved the car to the clinic when he was on his deathbed. He had no use for the old thing any more. Valeria could take care of Mrs. Drazov and others much better with it. He told Mrs. Drazov to ask her to go to the clinic and pick it up. No strings attached.
His flight left the following day, and he was beginning to get weary. He needed to get some rest before the long trip.
He called his boss and thanked him for helping to save him. He told him he would not be returning from his trip. Grav told him they had already hired another man, as they hadn't thought he was going to survive. He was happy for him.
Dumitru asked him to say nothing if anyone ever came looking for him, and Grav assured him that he wouldn't.
Once he had cleaned the place up, he packed his few belongings and clothes into a ratty suitcase and picked up his phone and called Valeria to thank her personally. And then he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of his new life starting the next morning.
57
Ryan had been scanning The Sea of Cortez for the last two hours. He had gone back one week and had been clicking forward, minute by minute. It was tedious work. There were many smaller craft. Fishing boats, excursions, and the like. There was not much shipping or commerce on these waters, so anything a little larger should have stood out.
After several hours, he spotted something. It looked promising. It was clear down at the southern tip of Baja.
He drilled down on the image.
Bam! There it was. He called everyone in.
“I found it! Look!” He pointed to the grainy image.
They all gathered around the screen and he blew it up larger. Sure enough, this was it. The shrouded device was still sitting on top of the deck, exactly where it had been days earlier.
“Hot damn, boys, there it is!” George chimed in.
“Great work, Ryan,” said Adam.
“Hey, it was a team effort,” Ryan answered.
“Let's follow it up and see where it went,” Jackson said.
Ryan stood up and stretched. “Can I take a break? I need a pee break and something to eat.”
“Sure. But we are this close, we need to get a record of things soon,” Jackson said.
They all went out to the dining area and discussed what the goon ha
d told them.
“Here's what we know now,” Jackson said. “The mosque out on the west side could be connected somehow.” Jackson's former employers were eyebrow deep with them on this. They were ‘fixers’, but obviously not very good ones. They did things as menial as picking things up and running packages between the Chechens and the mosque. They were mostly ‘paid muscle and eyeballs’, but they knew enough to help the team puzzle everything together nicely.
“Who can we talk to down in the Valley to get info on this mosque?” Tom asked.
They all sat and thought.
Suddenly, it hit Jackson. “I think I know someone. Ryan, can you access my phone? I want to get into my contacts, and check missed calls and voicemail.”
“Pretty easy,” Ryan said
“All right, let's get going. We are running out of time,” he said.
When Sam and the kids came in from hiking, Jackson told them things were about to ramp up. He asked them nicely once again to consider going over to the cabin, and this time, they agreed. He gave Sam the address and the guys gave them a Jeep to take. They were not happy, but they knew it would be better.
Ryan went to the restroom and came back, grabbing a sandwich out of the fridge, and they all sat at the table and talked.
Adam steepled his finger together. “Here's the big question: what to do with it when we get our hands on it?”
“That's the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room, gentlemen. What are we going to do with this thing? We don't know how to disarm it. Can we blow it up?” George said.
“We need to find out quick what the options are,” Jackson said.
“Let's get someone that knows what this is and what to do,” Adam said.
“I have a buddy that was in munitions in Iraq,” Brad said. “The Hurt Locker type. He used to go in and defuse all kinds of stuff. And he came home with all his appendages.”
“Call him,” Tom said.
58
Ahmed was sitting in a study room alone, staring at the walls. He knew he should have acted more excited, but it was hard for him to fake things. The Imam gave him a chair, a table, and a Koran, and told him that he was not to leave the room.
He got up and walked around the windowless room, racking his brain on how to get out and warn someone.
After a couple of hours, he heard a faint noise outside the room. It sounded like a mop on the floor. He pried the door open a crack and saw Ibrahim, the janitor, mopping the floors. He looked up and winked at him, waving the back of his hand into the study room.
Ahmed closed the door and went back to the table and sat down. He had his head in his hands and was twitching his foot up and down.
After about thirty minutes, the door opened silently. Ibrahim slipped in. He came over and whispered to him,
“Ahmed, listen to me. I know something is happening. Everyone is off in a meeting. Tell me what you know. I will try and relay this to the proper people.”
Ahmed struggled to decide if he was a plant, put there by the Imam and other leaders. “I … don't know anything,” he stammered.
“Ah, but I know that you do, Ahmed. I saw all of you go into the meeting.”
“Uh, I don’t… know,” he hedged.
“Ahmed, it is ok. You can trust me. I, too, do not want this thing to happen. I am working with other people. I have been placed here to find things out. Tell me now, and I will help you stop this terrible thing,” Ibrahim whispered.
Ahmed debated internally for several seconds before answering. If he said something to the wrong person, he would be killed. But if he said nothing, many more would likely be killed.
Finally, he summoned up courage from somewhere and said, “We are performing a martyr mission. It will happen tomorrow. It is something big. They are waiting on a package from somewhere over in the Middle East.”
“Very good, Ahmed. I live here on the grounds, back in a small room behind it. If you know of anything else, come find me. Meantime, I will be around again. Watch for me,” he said quietly.
He nodded and Ibrahim slipped back out the door.
59
Before Ryan drilled down on the ship, he accessed Jackson's phone. He had seventeen missed calls and two voicemails.
He copied and pasted all the numbers into a document and printed it off. One had called three times. It was a Phoenix cell phone. Next, he pulled up his voicemail to text feature.
‘Jackson, it's Barry Yant. Call me as soon as you get this.’
‘Jackson, it’s me again. Call me at this number. ASAP.’”
Ryan called Jackson in and showed him everything.
“Some of those are from La Hacienda. One from Paul, my old boss. And these are from Barry,” Jackson said. “Let me call him and see what he's got. He's the guy I want.”
Ryan went back to drilling down on the ship, and Jackson walked out onto the deck to call Barry on his burner.
Barry answered on one ring. “Jackson. Where are you?”
“I'm out of town, Barry. What's up?”
“Listen, I know you are out of the game, but I got a very interesting call today.”
“Tell me.”
“It was from a contractor here in the Valley. He is originally from Moldova…”
“Moldova? You’re kidding,” Jackson said.
“No, I'm not. Does that mean something to you?” Barry asked.
“It could. What did he say?” Jackson replied.
“He said his brother is headed over here and got some kind of radiation poisoning over there. He's good now, but they did a little tracking and the item, whatever it is, headed down to Turkey and out on a ship, headed west, they think. With all the rumors buzzing around down here, he just called me out of the blue and thought it might be mean something.”
“Oh, you might say that,” Jackson said, shaking his head.
“Wait a minute. Do you know something?” Yant asked.
“Let's just say I have had a team of guys who have been working on a bunch of things for a few days, and we’ve been on this for a while,”
“Wow, Jackson. There's no one better than you on this stuff. I'm so glad you are in on this. What can I do?”
“You can sniff around down there and see if there are any indications of what it is and where it is going. The West Valley Islamic Center might be involved. We think it’s going to be used at tomorrow night's game down at Chase. Please be careful, though. There are people higher up in the force and in the Feds who are in on this thing. We don’t know who, but we are working on that, too. You cannot breathe a word of this on the air,” Jackson said.
“Really? Oh my God, Jackson,” Yant gasped.
“Please, don't panic. I'm with some real good guys, and we are doing all we can. I would look at any local connections. Also, the Moon Gods and cartels. I'm sure you have trustworthy people down there in the know,” Jackson said.
“Is this your number now?” Yant
“Temporarily. Use it if you must, but only in an emergency. I'll call you, or you can email me,” Jackson said.
“Got it.”
“Stay safe down there, Barry. The bastards are finally gonna do it,” Jackson said.
“We always knew they would… some day,” Yant replied.
"Looks like that day is tomorrow," Jackson said ominously.
60
Ahmed was sitting up at the table, trying to stay awake, when the door of the study opened. It was the Imam. He brought in some food and set it down.
“Tomorrow, you will change the world, Ahmed. Here, have something to eat.”
“Why are you doing this thing? What have these innocent people ever done to you?” Ahmed asked.
Figuring his life was almost over, there was no use putting up with this geezer's crap anymore.
“Why are we doing what?” the Imam asked.
“Why are you killing everyone? All my friends. My family. This great city. How can a good God be in favor of something like that?” he asked.
“It
is not for you to know these things. You are just a boy.”
“I mean, if Allah is that powerful, couldn't he just… just wipe out everyone by himself? Why does he need you – us - to do it for him?” he asked.
“Allah needs the help of his warriors to conduct jihad in his name. As it is written in his holy book,” the Imam replied sternly.
“What about the Jews and the Christians? They have a book and a God, too.”
“It is not the same!” the Imam shouted. “We have the only true book! The prophet Mohamed has written the desires of Allah's heart. Only he knew them. The others are charlatans, liars, and infidels!”
“But didn't Mohamed write this book long after the Christians and the Jews wrote theirs?” Ahmed asked.
“You are not to question the ways of Allah! You are speaking blasphemy!” the Imam responded angrily.
“And why aren't you coming with us to do this terrible thing too? Why do you only have us young men do it for you? If you are that convinced this is the right thing, you should be coming with us,” he said.
“You know nothing! You are nothing! It is not for you to decide!” The Imam was infuriated.
“But where will you be? You will be wiped out, too. Unless you are planning on running away like a coward. I don't trust you. Any of you,”
With that, the Imam reached back and prepared to slap him across the face. Ahmed shoved his chair back and stood straight up. He grabbed the Imam’s arm and bent it back, almost out of the socket. The old man strained with rage and tried to pull it forward, but Ahmed was too strong. Tiring, he gave up. Ahmed shoved him back away from the table. He fell on the floor.
Enraged, the Imam spat: “Because of what you just have done, I will make sure that you are sitting on top of the device when it detonates! You will be the first to die! And you will be going straight to hell, infidel!”
Black Flag Rising: A James Jackson Thriller Page 23
