Eventually she resumed her life, but nothing was the same, and despite her deep affection for John Baldwin, she soon realized things could never go back to the way they once were between them. About the time they split up, she was offered her dream job, the position of investigative reporter at the Broward News, and she promptly accepted. Having worked at the paper in the past, she was familiar with most of the staff and found it pretty easy to adapt to her new position.
However, after giving up her apartment prior to sailing with John, she moved in with her mother, Sophie, until she could find a new place to live. It turned out to be a bad decision, creating a stressful situation at best. After a few months, she was desperate and put everyone on alert she was looking for an apartment. Through a receptionist at the newspaper, she found out there was a place available near the beach. The rental consisted of a cottage situated on a large property. It immediately appealed to her. The owner, Nina Ponti, a middle-aged Italian woman, gave her a price. It was affordable and Jessie quickly agreed. And now, more than two years later, she still loved her small home.
As she left downtown and made a turn on US1, the five o’clock traffic was once again stuck at the 17th Street Causeway. The drawbridge was up, and a long string of yachts and sail boats floated by slowly on the Intracoastal. Jessie sighed. Okay, maybe she could do without these constant traffic snarls, but it was a price she was willing to pay to live near the ocean. The drawbridge went down at last, and cars started moving onto A1A and toward the beach front. The entrance to the Ponti property was just around the curb off the busy road. Since the gate was no longer functional, it stood open at all times. Nina had promised to get it fixed, but it was doubtful it would happen anytime soon.
Jessie pulled into the drive, and parked in her usual spot on the side of the cottage. She had barely stepped into her living room when she heard a noise coming from the patio. She peered out the back door. Nina sat at the table, sipping a martini. Her flushed cheeks suggested it wasn’t her first one tonight.
“Come, keep me company, Cara.” she said, patting the seat next to her.
“Sorry, I can’t. My friend Doris Anderson is expecting me at the Wildlife Center in Davie.”
Nina nodded. “Oh right, the widow who saves the animals. She has two young boys, yes?”
Jessie laughed. “Actually, they’re both young men now, Mike is 25 and Daniel is 23. They’ve been involved with the Center since day one. It was one of them who started it all by bringing home strays, and wounded wild life. Things just kind of grew from there.”
“You are a good friend to go out there so much to help out,” Nina said.
“I’ve known Doris for years and I really enjoy the work. You should come by sometime.”
Nina made a face and Jessie smiled. Not her cup of tea, apparently.
She picked up a couple of books on wildlife she had bought for Doris, grabbed her purse and left. Nina’s intrusions were annoying at times, but she realized the woman was lonely and besides, she wasn’t about to move again. She loved it here. During cooler nights, she slept with her windows open, enjoying the breeze blowing in from the ocean.
When she got to the Wildlife Center, Doris greeted her with a smile and a hug.
“Thank God you’re here. Daniel had a dinner date with Stella and her parents. Mike is home in bed with the flu and I couldn’t get a hold of Margaret. I got some of the food ready, I’ll work on the rest, and you can start feeding the birds.”
Jessie grabbed a pail full of birdseed, and another with finely diced fruits. “I’m on it.”
Widowed at a young age and now in her fifties, with short blond hair and vibrant blue eyes, Doris was a bundle of energy and ran the Wildlife Center in a no-nonsense way. She rescued strays, rehabilitating the ones she could and returning them to the wild, while others stayed on for the rest of their lives. The center housed a large variety of birds, raccoons, ducks, pigs and more. The property, sitting on three acres with an old, refurbished house, was a gift from a donor aiming for a tax break. During the rainy season they were often waterlogged. Nonetheless, they appreciated having their own place for the animals.
Housing developments had sprung up all around them yet they co-existed, a strange oasis in the midst of nonstop urbanization. The center had been part of Jessie’s life for a number of years, and she treasured Doris’ friendship as much as she enjoyed the work. After they finished feeding the animals, the two of them sat in the office contemplating their day.
“Any progress with your story?” Doris asked.
“Sam told me it’ll be a miracle if I find anyone who is willing to talk about the Russians. More and more, I think he’s right. Everybody is terrified of them,” she sighed.
“Sam Perrone?”
“Yeah.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Great. His boy is starting college, and his daughter is an ace tennis player. Pretty sure she’s going to turn pro soon.”
When Jessie was abducted while investigating a political plot, Sam Perrone, a detective for the Broward Sheriff’s Office, arrested the man responsible for her kidnapping. Their friendship evolved over the years, and she often relied on him for her articles.
“He’s a good man,” Jessie added.
“Speaking of good men, have you considered dating again?”
Jessie gave her an exasperated look. “Please, Doris, not you, too. My mother is constantly harping at me about this. She still thinks John and I will get back together.”
“Any chance of that happening?” Doris asked.
Jessie was silent for a brief moment. “It’s funny, he called me today. He met someone, a nurse. Her name is Karen. He wanted to know if it was okay with me. Doris, why would he ask me this when we broke up ages ago?”
“My opinion? He still loves you. Wants to make sure he can’t have you back before committing to a new relationship.”
Jessie shook her head. “No, it’s over. I care about him a lot, but we’re just not meant for each other. I told him to be happy. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t need another man in my life at this time.”
Doris nodded. “It wouldn’t hurt if the right guy came along, though, would it?”
Jessie got up. “If he comes along, you’ll be the first to know. For now, I’m out of here.”
They hugged and Jessie headed home. On the way, she mulled over their conversation. It was true she was lonely at times, and maybe there was someone else out there for her. But right now, she sure wasn’t looking.
Chapter Four
Nasir Hakim stared at the cell phone lying on top of his desk. Two days had gone by, and he had yet to tell his uncle about the stolen briefcase. After Adler dropped dead at the airport, he didn’t stick around. While his focus was to catch the thief, having to avoid alerting airport security slowed him down, and the son of a bitch got away. A taste of bile crept into his mouth. Although the imam, El-Amin, bore responsibility for this disaster, he was sure his uncle would put the blame on him. Deep in thought, he didn’t even notice when one of his men walked in the office.
“Nasir?”
He glanced up at Abdul Malik standing in front of his desk. “What?”
“Is there anything you want me to do?”
Hakim shook his head. “Not right now. I talked to Jenna this morning. The Broward Sheriff’s office has a video of the thief from airport security. When she finds out who he is, she’ll call me. Then it’s going to be a matter of getting to him before the cops do.”
Abdul snickered. “How can she find out? She’s not a detective.”
Hakim shrugged. “She works there, so don’t worry, she’ll figure it out. Just be ready when I call you. We’ll have to move fast.”
He followed him through narrow eyes as Abdul Malik walked away. He was his first recruit. The man who had been with him the longest. Yet he wasn’t quite sure he could trust him. One day very soon, he would have to test him.
Then there was Jenna Morales. A first cousin to Moh
amed Salem, his most loyal jihadist, she joined their ranks only recently. With a Lebanese mother and a Cuban father, she was a mixed bag. At first he was reluctant to take her on. However, once he found out she was an internet technology specialist at the Broward Sheriff’s office, he realized she could be a vital source of information, and he changed his mind. Now he hoped she would come through with the thief’s identity before it was too late. With a deep sigh, he picked up the phone and dialed. Five rings later he was talking to Haji Abboud.
“Did you get the briefcase?” the man asked, not wasting any time.
Reluctantly Hakim gave him the bad news. “Don’t worry, Uncle. I have someone inside the police department and I’m about to find out who the thief is. As soon as I do, I’ll take action.”
Abboud didn’t answer right away, and Hakim was worried. He knew his uncle did not tolerate blunders, especially since he went to great length to get the cash and arrange the diamond theft in Paris. When he spoke again, his voice was full of quiet rage. “This is unforgivable, Nasir. How could you let this happen?”
Making excuses would be futile at this point. Hakim swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Uncle. I will get the money back as well as the diamonds. Everything will still be right on target,” he insisted.
“My agreement for the delivery of the diamonds includes a certain time frame. If you don’t meet it, you will not get the needed supplies,” Abboud warned.
He paused, and the silence weighed heavily between them.
“How are things with you?” Hakim asked at last.
“I will be leaving for Somalia shortly. We are moving all our operations to Africa where we are reestablishing our Caliphate. New alliances are being formed in Niger and Nigeria. We are also making headway in Egypt with new fighters joining our ranks every day. And we are stepping up our attacks on our enemies on their own soil. We will destroy them, Nasir.”
He nodded in agreement. Like his new group of jihadists, Nasir Hakim was born in the United States. His Iranian parents had fled their country to start a new life. They wanted to be able to bring up their children in a free society. Instead, their oldest son grew up steeped in bitterness, alienated by a society he despised. While a senior in college, he started attending mosque every day and had long talks with the Imam. After several months of watching him closely, the cleric, Hanif El-Amin, mentioned he was in contact with Haji Abboud, an ISIS commander, who also happened to be Hakim’s uncle. Nasir was stunned. His family had never even mentioned him. That night, at the dinner table, he casually brought up the man’s name. His father, normally a mild-mannered man, became so incensed, he jumped up, violently knocking down his chair in the effort.
Hakim’s mother, fright written on her face, rose as well, taking hold of her husband’s arm to calm him down. “Issam, please don’t get so upset. Nasir doesn’t know what kind of man my brother is. We never told him. Don’t be mad at him. Please?”
Issam Hakim nodded, picked up his chair, sat back down, then turned to his son, shaking his head sorrowfully. “Haji is a monster, my son. Because of him, thousands of Iraqis and Syrians are now dead. By joining ISIS, he became a killer and a traitor. If the government in this country gets wind of anyone in our family contacting him, we will be arrested, questioned, and probably end up in jail.”
Hakim shrugged. “I don’t know why. We haven’t done anything.”
His father leaned across the table and spoke softly. “Just the suspicion of having ties to a terrorist organization could have dire consequences for all of us. Is being deported or thrown in jail what you want for your mother and your sister, Nasir? Is it?”
Although Hakim remained silent, he was burning with rage. His mother and his sister were both staring at him.
His father continued, “I do not want to hear his name mentioned again in my house. I forbid you to contact him, do you hear me, son?”
Hakim shook his head, got up, and slammed the door on his way out. There was no doubt his father’s mind was warped, poisoned against his own kind. From now on, he would let no one, not even his father, tell him what to do. Every day he spent hours surfing the internet, seeking information about ISIS. The more he read, the more determined he became. Soon not a shred of doubt remained in his mind—he had to join the jihad. It was time for him to be a part of the war on the infidels.
When he went to see the Imam with his decision, the man smiled, told him to buy a throw-away phone, and gave him a number to call. “Leave a message,” he said. “Your uncle will get back to you.” Sure enough, Abboud returned his call the very next day. Hakim’s heart pounded with excitement at the sound of his voice. He shared with him his eagerness to join the fight. From then on, they had several more conversations and despite Hakim’s impatience to join the ranks of the jihadists overseas, Abboud did not seem to be in such a hurry.
Then one day he surprised him. “Do you think you are ready, Nasir?”
“Whatever you ask of me, I will do,” he answered unflinchingly.
“Good. I want you to set up a cell, four or five jihadists. The Imam will help you find them. We will proceed from there.”
At first Hakim was disappointed. He yearned to go to the Middle East and be part of the action. Eventually, he realized Abboud had a bigger plan for him. The right kind of attack could cripple the U.S. once more. And who better to bring this devastation to the enemies of the Caliphate than him? Now, months later, Hakim recalled those early conversations with his uncle and he smiled. There was no doubt in his mind. He would be that man.
****
Jenna called at midday. She talked in a whisper and sounded out of breath.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“In the alley behind the building. It’s where the smokers hang out. I ran downstairs, I didn’t want to take the elevator. Too slow. Listen, you won’t find the thief at his home. They arrested him last night, searched his house. They took him in for booking.”
Hakim cursed under his breath. “Did they find the briefcase?”
“According to what I heard, they found nothing.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, then we still have a chance. Anything else?”
“He has a wife and a kid. Maybe she knows something.”
“What’s his name and address?”
She gave him the information. “Are you going to his house?”
“Yeah, we’ll have a look around. Maybe talk with his wife.”
“Can I go with you?” she asked.
“No, not a good idea.”
There was silence on the line. “Jenna?” he asked.
She was gone. He slammed his fist on the desk. The damn woman was aggressive, too much so. She grew up with the western ways, the evil ways, not under the law of Islam, as it should have been. He grinned maliciously. Soon she would find out, but not yet. He still needed her. Setting his thoughts aside for the moment, he called El-Amin and brought him up to date on the events. The cleric listened quietly before speaking in a soft controlled voice.
“I think I have a solution for our problem. Several of our brothers are incarcerated right now. One of them, Yasuf Fattah, is a trustee at the Pompano facility. To my knowledge, he has access to most of the jail. If this Thomas is held there, I am confident he can get to him. As his prayer leader, I am allowed regular meetings with him. I can arrange a visit for this afternoon and I will bring up our situation. I will let you know the results.”
Hakim stressed they had very little time, and told him he would be waiting for his call. He knew the man El-Amin referred to. He had a reputation as a vicious thug in their neighborhood. A couple of years earlier, he finally got caught and tried for a trafficking charge, which garnered him ten years in prison. And now, the job of trustee allowed him once more to impose his rule of intimidation. Only this time it was over the inmate population. Hakim actually had little sympathy for the man’s victims. On the contrary, he wished a hundred like him could join his cell. In the meantime, he could only hope the trustee
would be able to get his hands on Thomas. If he did, he had no doubt the man would talk. He dialed Abdul’s number and told him about the Imam’s plan.
“In the meantime, we’ll scope the area where he lives. See if it’s an apartment or a house. We’ll go tonight. I want to make sure the wife is home. If she knows where the briefcase is, we’ll get her to talk, without any nosy neighbors sniffing around. Come to the store at eleven… and Abdul, bring your gun.”
Chapter Five
A bright moon, surrounded by stars, hung low in the dark sky. Midnight came and went, and Jessie was still wide awake, sitting on her patio, gazing at the show of lights above. The beauty of nature never contrasted more with the starkness of life than at a moment like this.
The thought brought her back to the story she was working on. From the start, when she suggested it to her boss, Arthur Brown, the investigative editor, he was reluctant to give her the go ahead. He warned her it could be dangerous to probe into the Russian mob’s influence on sex trafficking in South Florida. She told him she would be careful. It didn’t take long before she ran up against the wall of fear and silence surrounding the Russians. It became even more evident when one of her sources abruptly disappeared, and the other one went into hiding after a frantic phone call, warning her to stay away from him.
So at this point, she had very little to go on, and was unsure about what to do next. She sighed and closed her eyes, enjoying the quiet. The traffic on A1A had subsided with only the sound of an occasional car driving past the stone wall behind the cottage.
Suddenly, the roar of engines exploded in the stillness. Jessie sat up, guessing cars were drag racing along the beach front, an event which happened quite often. Then, as they got closer, the unmistakable sound of gunfire erupted in the night.
Diamond Lilly Page 3
