Jan Coffey Thriller Box Set: Three Complete Novels: Blind Eye, Silent Waters, Janus Effect

by Jan Coffey

  The driver spoke to someone on his phone. They were stopping at another security checkpoint as they moved from one section of the base to another. Beyond the barrier, she could see the airstrips. Huge military cargo planes lined the side of one runway. Each vehicle came to a complete stop, and the driver and Agent Sutton both opened their windows. The driver passed some paperwork out to a soldier as two others circled the vehicle, looking under the car as they had at each checkpoint with a mirror at the end of a thin metal pole.

  Perhaps it was the combination of the hot breeze outside, tainted with the smell of petroleum and jet exhaust. Perhaps it was the blast of air conditioning on her face. It could have been anything, but suddenly she felt sick to her stomach.

  “Can you open your window?” she asked in panic.

  He did as he was told. “You look kind of green. Are you okay?”

  It was too late.

  “Let me out,” she groaned, reaching over him hurriedly for the door handle.

  Luckily, he was quick and Fahimah scrambled after him. She barely had both feet on the pavement when her stomach emptied violently. Immediately, she went down on her knees as another wave of sickness hit her, making her retch as she emptied everything that was left inside of her. Her stomach was knotted with painful cramping, and she continued with dry heaves.

  The air felt like it was on fire. The bare skin of her neck and her head sizzled under the stunningly hot sun. But Fahimah started shivering uncontrollably. Agent Newman was saying something into her ear, but she could not understand him. She felt hands under her arms, lifting her and moving her to the side of the road where she knelt, her eyes closed. It took some time before she could control her nausea.

  As Fahimah sat there, she heard the Humvee that she’d been riding in back around to the side of the road, putting her in shadow. She took short breaths through her mouth, fearful of any smell or taste that might make her sick again.

  There were noises of people moving around her. Someone was asking about doctors, about directions to the infirmary.

  “No…no,” she whispered weakly, forcing her eyes open.

  Agent Newman crouched down next to her, his sunglasses pushed on top of his head, his expression showing concern.

  “We’re going to take you to the infirmary,” he told her gently.

  She shook her head and sat back on the warm road surface. “No. I am fine.”

  “You don’t look fine to me,” he told her.

  “I’ve had two meals in the past twelve hours. My stomach is not accustomed to it.”

  “It could be something else. Perhaps food poisoning? Or something even more serious.”

  “No. It is nothing,” she said sternly. He didn’t look convinced. “You get sick occasionally, Agent Newman. After you vomit, then you feel better. Isn’t that so?”

  “No, not me. I never get sick.”

  She snatched the bottle of water that he was holding out to her.

  “Please just give me a minute or two, and I will be back to normal.” She took a mouthful of water, rinsed her mouth, and spit it out. She repeated it a couple of times more, unwilling to chance swallowing any of the water yet.

  “You’re shivering. This could be more than just food disagreeing with you. I can’t have you dehydrate while we’re on the flight out. I certainly can’t have you die on me.”

  Her water bottle was already empty. He handed her another and took the empty one away.

  His persistent worry was actually comical. “I’m thirty-six years old. I know my body. I always shiver when I get sick to my stomach, Agent Newman.”

  Someone else passed her some tissues. Newman slowly pushed himself to his feet. It took Fahimah a couple of minutes more before she was sure she was strong enough to prove her argument. She rinsed her mouth with the water again and took her time to stand up. The sun was bright. Everything around her was in a haze. The shivering, however, was already subsiding.

  There was no way that she was not getting on that plane.

  “The infirmary isn’t too far away.” Agent Newman said one more time.

  Fahimah waved him off impatiently and looked at the open door of the Humvee. She shook her head. “No.”

  The other vehicles had pulled to the side, as well. The soldiers escorting them were looking out of open doors or standing next to their vehicles.

  “I am not getting in, yet. I want to walk around a little.”

  Half a dozen soldiers created a shield a few feet away from her. She was protected from view of others on the base.

  “That’s where we’re going.” Sutton pointed to a huge corrugated steel building some five hundred feet past the barricades.

  “I can walk there.”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea, sir,” the soldier who had been seated next to her said to Newman.

  “We are on an American base. If you do not trust your own people, then whom are you going to trust?” she asked before turning away. They were being so stubborn, she thought, raising her face to the sun. Now the heat actually felt good.

  She didn’t know what was said between them, but she must have won the battle, for the three cars drove around her, pass through the checkpoints and then continued slowly toward the building that Agent Sutton had pointed to. Giant doors on the side facing them were open and on the runway next to it, a military aircraft was being fueled. She guessed this was the plane taking her back to Iraq.

  Fahimah looked behind her. As she’d expected, Agent Newman and her protector, the burly soldier who’d given her a bloody nose earlier, had stayed behind.

  “Ready to walk?” Newman asked.

  She nodded, going around the cinderblock barriers and toward the hanger where their caravan had headed.

  Agent Newman fell in step beside her. The other man kept some ten feet away, walking behind them.

  Getting rid of the food in her stomach actually made Fahimah feel much better than before. She didn’t mind the heat and stretching her legs felt good. She hadn’t walked this far outdoors in years.

  “I’m glad we got one thing settled.”

  Fahimah glanced up at the agent. His sunglasses were again hiding his eyes.

  “What have we settled?” she asked.

  “Your name and your age. Dr. Fahimah Banaz, age thirty-six.”

  She stopped, looked up at him, and snorted derisively.

  He shook his head. “Don’t waste my time denying it. I know the truth and you know the truth. That’s enough.”

  She was now, more than ever, in their power. She knew that they could easily prove that she wasn’t Rahaf. She tried not to panic, forcing her voice to remain steady. “What do you mean, ‘That is enough’?”

  He pushed the glasses down on the bridge of his nose, looking into her eyes. “You’re taking us to your sister, to where we can get a remedy that will stop the microbe.”

  “I am helping you to get the remedy,” she said, correcting him.

  “Then you won’t renege on your promise,” he stressed.

  “I will not go back on my word, if that is what you mean,” she told him. “But I will not lead you to my sister.” There was no longer any point in denying the truth.

  “She might be behind the attacks.”

  “She is not,” Fahimah said adamantly. “If you believe that, then you put our deal at risk.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe. A court of law can determine her guilt or innocence.”

  She stopped and stared at him for a moment. Newman stopped, as well, but did not look at her.

  “You have released me from my promise. My assistance ends now,” she told him angrily. “I know my sister. I know what she went through to help people and to keep people from getting hurt. I’m telling you that she has nothing to do with this.”

  “I cannot change what my government might logically suspect. I know that they—”

  “I have paid a thousand times over for your government’s misplaced suspicion,” she shot back h
otly. “Go ahead and arrest me. Take me back to that prison. Shoot me if you want. I’m not taking another step to help you.” She turned on her heel and started walking back toward the security gate.

  Before she even reached their burly escort, a large hand caught Fahimah by the arm. Newman turned her around to face him.

  “You have quite a temper, Dr. Banaz. I think you should consider doing a little more meditating.”

  Fahimah folded her arms across her chest, glaring up at him. “I have been in your prisons for five years, and I have never said a word, in order to protect my sister. I will gladly go back there for another fifty. I won’t help you to hurt Rahaf.”

  “Look, I have no intention of hurting her or arresting her or prosecuting her. I’m looking for a way to stop people from dying. I can learn from her. The remedy might not be enough. If we can’t stop who’s behind the attacks, we’ll be forever fighting against time. She might know the real people behind all of this. She knows so many people in this field. She could help us find them, stop them.”

  “But you believe she’s behind these outbreaks.”

  “I was speaking honestly about what others might think,” he said in obvious frustration. “When I came to offer you a deal, I had no idea that you might not be Rahaf Banaz. But now, I need to find your sister. Innocent people are dying. I do not want anything to happen to her, and I will give you any guarantee you ask for that is within my power.”

  Fahimah knew that he would say anything. It was not the first time American agents had made offers in return for her cooperation. It was different this time, though. She had only one way to go, and that was forward. Now that they knew Rahaf was out there, the Americans would find her, with or without Fahimah’s help. For the first time in five years, though, Fahimah was truly in a position to bargain. She would use it to save Rahaf.

  “Let’s go,” she said quietly, starting again toward the hangar.

  “Where are we going?” he fell in step with her.

  “To Erbil.”

  “And from there?”

  “I will tell you when we arrive.”

  “But what about your sister?”

  “You have just asked me to trust you with the life and future of my only sister. I ask you to trust me. This is all I will say for now. It should be enough.”

  He fell silent and walked thoughtfully with her toward the plane.

  Twelve

  Lewes, Delaware

  “You can’t talk us out of it. We’re going, Mom,” Josh stressed as he continued to stuff his backpack with the clothes he was taking on the week long trip.

  Arms folded across her chest, her shoulder leaning against the doorjamb, Sally Link wasn’t ready to give up this fight just yet.

  She turned and looked in the doorway of the adjoining bedroom. David was still packing. “David, you’re the adult here. Talk some sense into him. You guys can go on this trip another time.”

  “No, Mom. There’s a waiting list,” Josh answered for his father. “We signed up for this trip three months ago. Please, this has been the one thing that I’ve been looking forward to all summer. I want to go on it.”

  Sally knew what her son was up to. He was trying to work on her sympathy. Josh’s year so far had consisted of two chemo treatments and ten days in the hospital. It was a miracle that he felt as good as he did during this vacation.

  “This isn’t the best time for your father,” she said to Josh. “He’s got too much going on at work. They could need him at any time.”

  “Dad is on vacation,” Josh answered.

  She stared meaningfully at her husband. He’d talked with her for nearly an hour after dinner last night about the last minute shuffling that they were doing with their key accounts because of some production crisis.

  “David?” she urged, motioning for him to help her with this.

  “They know how to reach me if they absolutely must.” He shook his head and made a palms-up gesture, mouthing the words, “I can’t disappoint him.”

  “It’s not safe to go away,” she said, blurting out her main concern.

  “I told you not to read the newspaper,” David warned. “It’s all a lot of hype. They’re making it all out to be much worse than it is.”

  “They have pictures of the corpses on the front page,” Sally protested.

  “They have pictures of Loch Ness Monster and Big Foot, too, Mom,” Josh said, cracking a smile. He pulled a baseball cap over his bald head. “You really have to stop reading the National Enquirer.”

  “Honey, we’ll be fine,” David said, coming out of their room and putting an arm around Sally. “You’re dropping us off at the pier. It’s half a mile away. We’ll only be gone for a week. You and Kate can pick us up right at the same pier.”

  Kate, still in her pajamas, took that moment to stroll into the room. She looked around at the faces. “Did someone just use my name in vain?”

  “Mom is being overly protective,” Josh told his sister.

  “So what else is new?” the nineteen-year-old said sarcastically just before the dishtowel Sally had in one hand snapped her on the butt.

  “Ow!” Kate yelped, hopping out of striking range. “Hey, that’s child abuse, you know!”

  “Save it for Oprah,” Sally said. “Besides, you’re too old to call it child abuse.”

  “Have you got everything, sport?” David said to his son.

  “Yep.” Josh zipped up his pack and slung it over his shoulder.

  “David, seriously,” Sally persisted. “Did you call them to make sure they haven’t cancelled the trip?”

  “I called them an hour ago, when you asked me to. As I told you, they said everything is going on as scheduled. The research boat is ready for us. The crew is all set. And they haven’t had any cancellations from other parents.”

  “You see, Mom. You’re the only one who’s overreacting,” Josh said, giving her a big hug.

  Kate slipped past them. “Well, Mom, I guess it’s just you, me, Oprah, and the beach for the next week.”

  Josh grinned up at Sally and followed his sister to the kitchen.

  “I’m all ready, Dad. Call me when you’re ready to go,” he said over his shoulder.

  Sally sat down on the arm of the sleep sofa. This past week had been like heaven. With the three children around her and David staying here, too, it had been almost like the old days. Spending the days together on the beach, noisy dinners and arguments and laughter. Sally wished she could bottle that joy for the tough days that she knew they’d have ahead.

  “Honey, what’s going on? It’s not like you to buy into these things.” David rubbed her shoulders. “I know five people are dead in Arizona, but people die every day. It’s been pretty quiet as far as big news stories for the past couple of months, so the press is making the most out of what they can.”

  “I’m not so sure, David,” she whispered uneasily.

  “There was nothing in the president’s speech last night that made me want to grab all of you and hide in the basement. Think about it. We’re going to be out on the open sea with nothing but clean salt air to breath. And aren’t you the same woman who let Jamie go back to New York City this morning? New York City, honey.”

  Sally smiled, remembering how upset she’d been when Jamie had taken a job in New York right out of college. She’d been afraid the big bad monster would eat up her baby alive. Two months later, their daughter was doing great and feeling right at home in the city.

  “Come on. Tell me you’re okay with this.”

  She knew her husband was right. Still, she couldn’t kick the worry eating away at the lining of her stomach.

  “Repeat after me. This…is…good...for…Josh.”

  “It is good for Josh,” she repeated.

  It was so difficult to shift one’s perspective from what was best for your child over the long term to what was best for him today. The most crushing moment of Sally’s life was when she’d been told of Josh’s leukemia. She and David both
had been stunned. The twelve year old, though, had taken it well and had been a true champ through all of the tests and treatments he’d had so far. They weren’t done, either. Josh still had a rocky road ahead of him. Sally had to teach herself to live today, enjoy today. She had to remind herself daily to do what was best for Josh today.

  David had been the one who’d heard about this excursion at sea. Designed for teenagers who were at different stages of their cancer treatments, the research vessel only took ten students and one of their parents or caregivers each. The former fishing boat, which had been turned into a floating laboratory, was funded by a government Sea Grant. The American Cancer Society contributed additionally to fund these trips during the summer. From the literature Sally had read about the trip, the kids would work right along side the graduate students and researchers. The boat’s primary purpose was to monitor ocean disposal sites. The divers would collect underwater samples in specific locations, and the students would work with the crew analyzing those samples on the boat’s laboratory.

  Fresh air, interaction with other kids their own age, learning in a hands-on atmosphere, the program was very well reviewed and booked long in advance. Josh and David were right. There was no way she could rob them of something this valuable.

  She sighed and let her chin sink to her chest. “Get ready. I’ll drive you two to the pier.”

  Thirteen

  Bagram, Afghanistan

  At the last minute, the decision was made to not use a military aircraft for the transfer of Dr. Banaz. The quickest flight pattern was over the Caspian Sea, north of Iran. With the ability to climb quickly to cruising altitudes, small commercial-type jets were frequently used for transportation between Afghanistan and Iraq. They provided a less obvious target for some missile wielding, freedom-fighter sitting in some mountain range in Turkmenistan or Azerbaijan.

  Two Air Force pilots were being used to fly the ten-seat jet. Two of Fahimah’s military escorts from the Brickyard and three more from the airbase at Bagram were accompanying them during the flight.