Five Years in Yemen

by Luana Ehrlich

  If he had, I’m not sure what I would have told him.

  The truth was, I felt guilty for getting the guy’s hopes up.

  More than likely, Carlton would have been surprised to hear me say I felt guilty about anything, because I’d been lying to people, tricking them, deceiving them, and conning them ever since joining the CIA.

  Up to this point, I couldn’t remember a single instance when I’d experienced remorse for my behavior. It was my job. It was who I was—a first-rate liar, an outstanding con artist, a deceiver extraordinaire.

  Those descriptions had never been a problem for me until several months ago when I’d been forced to live with some Iranian Christians in Tehran for three months while the secret police were searching for me.

  It had been my first encounter with Christians who were passionate about their beliefs, and the night before I was smuggled out of Iran to a border crossing in Turkey, I’d made my own commitment to follow the teachings of Christ.

  I hadn’t made that decision lightly.

  Mostly, it had been the result of hearing Javad read his Bible to his family every night.

  Javid was the Iranian Christian who’d kept me hidden away in his home, and, after living with Javad and his family for a few weeks, I’d started asking him about his Christian beliefs.

  When he’d explained the meaning behind Jesus’ death and resurrection and what it meant to him personally, I knew I had to learn more about his faith.

  Although I’d grown up in a so-called Christian nation, my parents had never attended any kind of church. Consequently, I’d left home knowing next to nothing about the Bible or the tenets of Christianity.

  However, as the weeks had gone by and I’d been able to observe the joy Javad and his family had exhibited—even in the midst of intense persecution—I’d found myself wanting to experience that same kind of joy for myself.

  A few hours before making my escape from Iran, I’d prayed a simple prayer expressing my desire to follow Christ and for God to make me His child.

  That was all there was to it, but, ever since then, my life had undergone several changes—gradual changes.

  Often, I wasn’t aware anything was happening until I was forced to confront my feelings.

  Now, I suspected one of those changes was the guilt I felt about lying to Zachary about the job offer.

  A few months ago, when I’d used Nikki as a bargaining chip to get some information out of an FBI agent, I’d experienced a similar sense of remorse. When I’d confessed my actions to her, she’d forgiven me, but, at the time, I’d just assumed my guilty conscience was the result of being deceitful about a personal matter.

  It never occurred to me I might have those same feelings when I was dealing with something related to an assignment.

  Now, I wondered what kind of covert operative I’d be if I felt guilty every time I had to lie to an asset or steal from an enemy or pretend to be someone I wasn’t.

  Somehow, I didn’t think I’d be a very good one.

  I was still thinking about this a few hours later when I received an email from Carlton giving me the details of a job opening with SSG for a security officer in Pakistan.

  As I scripted out the story I would tell Zachary when I called him later in the week, I realized I had no qualms about spinning him an elaborate lie about why the job opening was in Pakistan instead of Afghanistan.

  Knowing I could lie without feeling guilty made me feel so much better.

  Chapter 6

  Saturday, October 24

  It was Game Day in Norman, Oklahoma. Local television stations had led off their morning newscasts with this announcement.

  The University of Oklahoma was playing Iowa State University in a Big 12 matchup that was a make-or-break game for both teams.

  OU football was a big deal in Norman. In fact, on my way over to Nikki’s house, I noticed most of the businesses were flying crimson and cream flags, and several vehicles had OU banners mounted on their windows.

  Nikki was a graduate of OU and had season football tickets. A few months ago, when we were both living in Virginia, I’d promised her we’d go to a football game together once we were back in Norman.

  As we were having dinner on Thursday night, she’d asked me if I’d remembered making her that promise.

  “How could I forget? When would you like to go?”

  “There’s a big game this Saturday. Let’s plan to go then.”

  “I thought you said you’d be working non-stop for the next several weeks.”

  She smiled and lowered her head.

  “Oh, I get it,” I said. “You’ll be working your new case even while we’re at the game.”

  She nodded. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Of course not. You helped me question Travis Zachary last week, and this week I can help you catch a killer.”

  She took a bite of the pork chop I’d grilled for her, and then she waved her empty fork at me. “Oh, no, that’s not happening. You can’t get involved in my case. When we catch this guy, it has to be done by the book. Everything needs to be completely legit or we won’t get a conviction.”

  “You make it sound like I wouldn’t follow the rules if I helped you.”

  “That’s only because the last time we worked together on a murder investigation you didn’t follow the rules.”

  “You have a point there.”

  “Besides,” she said, “I’m working with several other detectives on this case, and on Saturday, the stadium will be swarming with extra security, which will probably scare the guy off anyway.”

  Nikki’s case involved the murder of two young women in their late twenties, who were killed two weeks apart. Forensics showed both women were murdered by the same guy, and the bullets taken from their bodies had come from the same gun. Yet, as far as anyone knew, the two women hadn’t been acquainted with each other, and investigators hadn’t come up with anything they had in common—except for one thing.

  Just hours before their deaths, both women had attended an OU football game. That in itself was not unusual. Gaylord Family Oklahoma Memorial Stadium seated some 85,000 fans.

  However, both women had been seen on national television when the camera had panned across the crowd to show the faces of enthusiastic fans who were attending the event.

  Since evidence at both crime scenes showed the killer had followed the women home and murdered them as they exited their vehicles, the NPD, along with OU’s own police force, had a plan in place this Saturday to make sure any woman whose face was caught on camera would be given a police escort home after the game.

  “Do you have a profile of the killer yet?” I asked.

  “We know the suspect is a male, and the profiler from OSBI, who’s been helping us with the case, described the suspect as being in his late forties to early fifties. The profiler said the guy probably lives in the area and is someone who harbors personal feelings about fan behavior during a game.”

  “What were the women doing when the camera zoomed in on them?”

  “The first victim was taking a selfie with her cell phone, and the second one was putting on her lipstick. The profiler thinks the killer believes they should have been paying more attention to the game.”

  “Was the footage shown to the stadium at large, or just to the viewers at home?”

  “It was seen by both audiences.”

  “Then the killer didn’t have to be at the stadium. He could have been watching at home or at a tailgate outside the stadium, and, after seeing the images, he could have arrived at the stadium, located the women, and followed them back to their residence.”

  “That’s true, but he still would have had to have a ticket to get inside the stadium.”

  “Which means he would have been a late arrival. What do the CCTV cameras at the gates show? Is there someone who—”

  Nikki made a capital T with her hands. “Time out, Titus. Could we refocus here? I thought you invited me over here tonight for a romanti
c dinner. I didn’t know it was to pick my brain about my case.”

  I sat back in my chair and smiled. “You know, Detective, you’re right. I was getting a little obsessive there.”

  She shook her head and laughed. “I’m worried about how you’re going to survive the next three months if you don’t have an assignment to keep you busy.”

  She had nothing to worry about.

  * * * *

  Nikki lived on the eastside of Norman in Summit Lake, a subdivision of moderately-priced homes built around a man-made lake.

  As I drove down Summit Lake Boulevard toward Nikki’s street, I passed by the neighborhood’s outdoor basketball court, a concrete quadrant located next to one of the lakes.

  It looked different today.

  Ordinarily, kids were playing basketball, and joggers were using the footpath that encircled the perimeter of the lake.

  Today, however, except for a black Yukon SUV parked at the basketball court, the place was empty, When Nikki got in my car a few minutes later, I mentioned this to her.

  “There was hardly any traffic on the highway when I was driving over here, and your neighborhood looks completely dead. There’s no one outside.”

  “Well, in case you hadn’t heard, it’s Game Day.”

  “But the game doesn’t start for another two hours.”

  She laughed. “In Norman, tailgating is almost as popular as the game itself. Even non-ticket holders go down to the campus several hours before the game starts and set up a tent.”

  “Yeah, I guess I should have thought of that.”

  “It’s been that way ever since I . . .”

  When Nikki paused, I noticed she was staring at the Yukon still parked at the basketball court.

  “Ah . . . ever since I can remember.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I was just curious about that vehicle. I saw it there yesterday, and the rules governing our homeowner’s association don’t allow overnight parking around the lake.”

  “Maybe the car wouldn’t start, and the owner had to leave it there overnight.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” she said, looking back over her shoulder. “If it’s still there tonight, I’ll get the license number and have it checked out.”

  As soon as we pulled out of her subdivision, she changed the subject. “I have a feeling you’ll be hearing from Danny Jarrar soon. We’re working with OSBI on the Stadium Killer case, and when I talked to Danny the other day, I mentioned you were back in Norman. He sounded surprised when I told him you planned to be in town until January.”

  Danny Jarrar was the head of counterterrorism at the Oklahoma Bureau of Investigation (OSBI), a position he’d taken after leaving the Agency several years ago. Several months ago, when I’d renewed my friendship with him after moving to Norman, he’d been the person who’d convinced Nikki I wasn’t lying to her when I’d told her I was employed by the CIA.

  “Danny knows me pretty well,” I said, glancing in my rearview mirror. “He probably thinks I won’t be able to stay away from Langley for three months.”

  “That’s exactly what he said.”

  “Did you tell him we’re engaged?”

  Nikki smiled. “Yes, and he wanted to know if we’d set the date yet.”

  “Douglas asked me the same thing, and I told him I was leaving it up to you.”

  “I still haven’t come up with a date yet. Yesterday, I found out I won’t have any vacation time until the end of March, so I know we can’t schedule it until spring at the earliest. What about your next assignment? When it comes to setting the date, that might be our biggest problem.”

  “Don’t worry about me. You set the date, and I’ll show up.”

  “Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head, “that’s not how this works. The two of us need to plan our wedding together.”

  “I’d be completely useless at planning a wedding. I don’t have a clue about flowers or dresses or cakes or . . . or whatever else has to happen at a wedding.”

  “I’m sure that’s true, but at the very least I’ll need your help with the guest list. Who do you want to invite besides your family?”

  “Do I have to invite my family?”

  When she didn’t immediately respond, I glanced over at her.

  She was staring at me—glaring might be a better word.

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Of course, I’m kidding you,” I said, reaching over and touching her cheek. “We’ll invite everyone in my family, even Uncle Harold.”

  She grinned. “I’d love to have Uncle Harold at our wedding.”

  Nikki had met my sister Carla and most of my other relatives when she’d flown up to Flint, Michigan, to attend my mother’s funeral a few weeks after we’d met. Carla and Nikki had bonded the moment I’d introduced them, but even Uncle Harold, who could be a bit overbearing at times, had endeared himself to her.

  After observing Nikki’s behavior at the funeral, I’d wondered if her willingness to overlook my family’s idiosyncrasies was because she’d been raised in a foster home and didn’t have any relatives of her own.

  I was perfectly fine with sharing my relatives with her. In fact, she could have as many of them as she wanted.

  I said, “I’m sure Carla would be thrilled to help you plan the wedding. The moment she met you, she started hearing wedding bells.”

  “Have you told her about our engagement yet?”

  “No, not yet,” I said, taking a quick look in my rearview mirror, “but as soon as I do, she’ll probably call you.”

  Nikki gestured toward the next intersection. “After you turn on Jenkins, you’ll see a parking lot off to your right. It’s reserved for law enforcement, and my badge will get us in there.”

  As I slowed down to make the turn into the parking lot, I took another look in my rearview mirror. This time, Nikki took note of my actions.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “You keep looking in your rearview mirror like you think we’re being followed.”

  “That’s because the Yukon from your neighborhood has been on our tail for the last five miles.”

  Nikki quickly glanced over her shoulder as I drove into the parking lot. “He’s headed east, and he didn’t slow down when we made the turn. How do you know that’s the Yukon from my neighborhood?”

  “The car dealership’s license plate on the front was the same.”

  “Did it say Ferguson GMC?” she asked. “There are plenty of those in Norman.”

  “No, it didn’t say Ferguson. The plate was from Thompson Sales.”

  “I’ve never heard of it. What made you think the Yukon was following us?”

  “He maintained the same rate of speed, kept two cars between us, and refused to pass when I slowed down. The usual stuff. Believe me, Detective, the guy was following us.”

  When Nikki flashed her badge at the police officer who was manning the NPD’s parking lot, he directed us over to an empty parking spot.

  Once I pulled in, Nikki said, “Are you sure the driver was a male? The windows on that vehicle were pretty dark. In fact, the tint may have exceeded the legal limit.”

  “I couldn’t say for sure the driver was a male, but that was my impression.”

  “If he shows up when we’re leaving the game, I’ll make sure we get a license number so we can call it in. Right now, though, I need to head over to the stadium and check in with my lieutenant.”

  Although Nikki didn’t seem concerned someone might have followed us over to the stadium, I couldn’t dismiss the incident as easily as she did.

  Perhaps that was because I knew setting up surveillance on a subject was the first step in setting up a hit on a subject.

  Was I overreacting?

  Probably.

  I decided to make a phone call anyway.

  * * * *

  After we walked over to the stadium, Nikki directed me to the section where our seats were located, promising to join me as soon as she’d ch
ecked in with her lieutenant.

  I found our seats easily enough, and even though the game wasn’t supposed to start for another hour, several of the seats around me were occupied.

  Since there was no one on either side of me, I punched in a number on my cell phone.

  Danny Jarrar answered on the second ring.

  “Hey, Titus, I heard you were back in Norman. I also heard congratulations are in order.”

  “Thanks, Danny.”

  “I can’t believe you’re getting married.”

  “Why is that so surprising?”

  “Don’t you remember the conversation we had that night in Beirut when we were waiting for the courier to show up?”

  “Beirut was at least ten years ago, Danny. People change.”

  “Oh, sure people change, but the question is, can Titus Ray change?”

  “I have changed, Danny. I’ve changed a lot in the last—”

  Danny interrupted me and launched into a story about a childhood friend of his who had recently gotten married. I figured that story would remind him of another story, which would remind him of another story, and so on and so on.

  Danny had always been a big talker, plus his stories tended to be long-winded, so I knew if I didn’t cut him off, I might not be able to ask him about the Yukon before the game started.

  “I’m sorry for interrupting you, Danny, but I’ve got a favor to ask, and I’m on a tight schedule here.”

  “Oh, no problem. I didn’t realize you were working. Nikki said you were on leave until January.”

  “Actually, I’m not working. This is a personal favor.”

  Danny laughed. “The last time I did you a favor, the two of us ended up in a gunfight at a terrorists’ training camp outside of Denton, Texas.”

  “That’s true, but if I remember correctly, you told me that was the most fun you’d had in a long time. Don’t get your hopes up, though. I don’t believe anything that exciting will come out of this.”

  “Well, that’s a downer. What’s the favor?”

  After I told him about the Yukon following Nikki and me out to the stadium, I asked him about the dealership’s name on the front bumper.