by P A Duncan
“Snake has some info for me. Back soon. M.F.”
Alexei crumpled the note, uncertain what angered him more: her meeting Terrell or her signing the note with both initials, as if he wouldn’t know who “M.” was. He turned the pager on and read its message. With no inner debate, he dressed and went to Olga’s basement apartment.
When she opened the door after his knock, she said, “Chto ne tak?”
“Nothing is wrong. Mai is meeting Terrell. I’m following her. I’ll be back before Natalia wakes.”
“Alyosha, Maiya would not—”
“Wouldn’t she?”
He left Olga standing in the doorway.
2
Limits of Friendship
The Wall
National Mall
Washington, D.C.
At night the black wound on the National Mall called The Wall attracted a few diehard locals and tourists. One visitor stood out among the half-dozen or so who studied the monument under the weary gaze of a park ranger.
Edwin Terrell’s obvious handicap drew looks. He was of an age identifying him as a Vietnam vet, a status he accepted but seldom mentioned. The empty right sleeve of his cashmere coat would make people think he’d lost it there, when it was two decades later and some 2,200 miles north.
He caught Mai Fisher’s reflection in the black granite and watched her watching him. She looked away, as if embarrassed. He hoped she’d indulged herself with a memory of him naked.
That was dangerous, he knew, with his boatload of unrequited lust, her with limitless credit cards, and several hotels within walking distance. Terrell turned and nodded for her to approach. He took a last drag off his cigarette and tossed it into the darkness.
When she stood beside him, he pointed to a name on The Wall.
“I knew that guy. Totally forgot him until I happened to glance that way. I’m getting old, Baby.”
“Never.”
Now that she was close, her reflection showed him something off. He turned her to face him and saw the yellowed bruising on the left side of her face, the rings of yellow and purple bruises around her eyes. She winced, so she was hurt in the body, too.
“What the fuck happened to you?” he asked.
“An old-fashioned thrashing by a right-wing preacher.”
“Does he have bruises of his own?”
“A few.”
“What? Are you out of practice at hand-to-hand?”
“No. I was trying to become a martyr. Now, I’d settle for some decent sleep. I’d rather talk about why you called me out in the cold.”
“Martyr is not a word I associate with you. Did it work?”
“No. Spare me the recriminations. I’ve heard them from Alexei and Nelson. Why am I here?”
“Because you asked me for intel, and I finally have a package ready for you.”
“Go on.”
“My source is one of the few ex-associates at the Company I trust. Good creds, solid guy.”
“If you trust him, I do, too.”
“Wow, that’s practically a declaration of love. Here’s what he knows. Several times since his marriage to his current wife, Gerald Parker has gone to the Philippines and left his wife behind in America. The reason for the trips was to establish a butterfly business.”
“Is that some sex thing?”
“Nope. He told his ex-wife he went to meet prospective partners.”
“How do you know what he told his ex?”
“I did her.”
Her expression of incredulity and jealousy, made it worthwhile.
“She’s quite the patriot,” Terrell said. “Felt sorry for a poor vet, his good right arm given in service to his country.”
“She’s remarried.”
“The matrimonial state has never been an impediment, as you know. You wanna hear this or moralize?”
“Tell me.”
“Well, she has this birthmark… All right, all right. No need for the death glare. Parker’s trips were to Cebu City, where his current wife is from, a haven for several terrorist groups.”
“Southeast Asia isn’t my area.”
“Only one of particular interest: a cell of Abu Sayyaf, a lot of former mujahideen, and a fellow by the name of Ramzi Yousef, who’s connected to a big person of interest for the U.S., Osama bin Laden.”
“The World Trade Center suspects?”
“The same. It gets better, but let me back up. You may know some of this, but I want to go through it all to show the connections.” She nodded, and he looked around for a bench. “This could take a while. Let’s sit,” he said.
He didn’t hesitate to put his arm around her and pull her close, for the body heat, of course.
“Gerald Parker went to the Philippines for his mail order bride after his discharge from the Army,” Terrell said. “His new wife was a surprise to his friends and family. None of them thought he’d ever be interested in a woman of color.”
“Yes, I’ve met her.”
“She was sixteen and not yet out of school. He was thirty-five and unemployed. So, what was the attraction? Parker wasn’t the type Filipina brides are looking for. You know, ones with prospects.”
“You woke me in the middle of the night for me to play analyst?”
He waited and watched her think.
“Are you saying he married her as a blood cover?” she asked. “To explain his subsequent trips? That would mean someone recruited her to marry Parker.”
“Not necessarily. Parker could have been told to marry someone from the Philippines, specifically Cebu City. The trips he took without her, he used a rooming house used by Muslim extremists.”
“Not likely partners in a butterfly business, whatever that is. Trust me, he’s not the world’s greatest businessman.”
“According to my source, he had money for the trips. Now, why would a true-blue American—”
“He’s been an anti-government activist for years.”
“I was trying to be colorful. Why would a businessman stay in the same seedy rooming house as bomb-making, rag heads?”
The pulse at her neck quickened. He’d piqued her interest.
“To learn how to make bombs. He’s over there now.”
“Yeah. Left the ex a to-be-opened-if-I-don’t-return package, but curiosity got the best of her. He gave her a key and a map to a storage locker in Nevada and instructions to forward its contents to your buddy, Carroll. She hauled ass right over to take a look. Twenty thousand in cash. She helped herself to some of it. And disguises. Wigs, ski masks, gloves.”
“Robbery stuff.”
“Yes, but the important question is?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Where’d the cash come from?”
“Bingo. Again, according to my source, right now Parker is doing nothing more than sitting on the beach and babysitting his kids while his wife is in nursing school.” She shivered, and he hugged her closer. “By the way, where was Carroll when the nutcase preacher used you for a punching bag?”
“Not a discussion topic. What are you getting at?”
“Did you get concussed, too?”
“A mild one. And I’m about to walk away forever.”
“Come on, Baby, it’s obvious.”
She sighed and said, “Parker is establishing an alibi.”
“Right again. My source tells me not long after Parker arrived, several people met in that rooming house. Three Muslim terrorists and an American farmer. At this meeting, they discussed not only how to make bombs but also possible targets. The farmer suggested an American government building.”
She looked at him. “What government building?”
“Unknown. A few months before that, some guys on the CIA watch list met in Las Vegas, where Parker’s ex lives. About the same time, he stopped by her house for an unexpected visit. She thought that strange because he always arranged things in advance, no drop-ins. He was in town for one day, spent some time with the kid at the house, but wouldn’t take him with him, li
ke he usually did.”
“He had something he didn’t want the kid to see.”
“Yeah, like a meeting with terrorists.”
“How could three known Muslim terrorists get into the U.S.?”
“That’s off topic, but a Saudi prince’s private jet doesn’t get much scrutiny. Maybe it’s coincidence Parker was both in Las Vegas and the Philippines at the same time as these meetings, but…” He shrugged and rubbed her arm.
“Too much of a coincidence. What did your source know about the Las Vegas meeting?”
“Three rag heads, two Colombians, and a Caucasian who kinda fits Parker’s description.”
“You’re trying to work drugs into this?”
“The Colombians will money-launder however they can, and I know the cocaine cartels are cozy with fundamentalists. Terrorists need untraceable money and in exchange they take out the cartels’ enemies.”
“You think this is being financed by the cartels?”
“Possibly. It’s a drop in the bucket for them, and they get the benefit of a strike at the U.S. More importantly, they aren’t around for the aftermath. The rag heads slither back under their fundamentalist rocks and wait for the next sucker with a cause to pay them for technical assistance.”
“So, Parker goes to the Philippines to get bomb-making training, and the Muslims supply him with cartel money?”
“It’s a working theory. Better yet, how did a struggling farmer with little money in the bank afford to make those trips?”
“Parker has amassed credit card charges and declared since it’s not real money, he doesn’t have to pay it back,” Mai said. “The suspect in several bank robberies and at least one home invasion matches Parker’s description.”
“Baby, you know the typical bank robbery nets a few thousand at best, and the chances of getting caught are too big. Unlimited cash from a third party is way better.”
She nodded. “Alexei said Patriot City was more well-heeled than donations and product sales would account for, but from what you’re telling me, Parker is behind this, not Carroll, and that this has been in the planning long before Killeen. Carroll is the patsy.”
“Could smell that way.”
“Kingman’s not that far from Las Vegas. Could that be the target?”
“The rag heads like symbolism, too. What would be more symbolic of the west’s moral turpitude than Sin City?”
“I’ll check on the federal presence there. That’s more important to the patriot movement.”
“Good point, but something else stinks. I still have a contact or two in DoD. One of ‘em pulled Parker’s military record. That hardship discharge of his reminded me of something.”
“I’ve looked at that file.”
“Yeah, but not in the way I can.”
“I’m still an RAF reservist.”
“I looked from a CIA perspective. It reminded me of Lee Harvey Oswald’s hardship discharge from the Marines. If, as you said, this has been a long time in the planning…?”
“Parker joins the military to…?”
“Recruit someone for the big bang. He befriends Carroll and leaves the Army for his other task, learning how to build a big bomb or, possibly, finding the resources to build it.”
“Who would have told Parker to join the Army?”
“Maybe your nutcase preacher?”
“No, he’s a recent addition to the Patriot City concept. The Nazi, Lewis, perhaps?”
“Maybe someone official?” He waggled his eyebrows.
Mai rolled her eyes. “You think Parker’s a government plant?”
“Or this is a government operation, and you’re being led around a pretty little garden to deflect from that. Stranger things have happened, Baby. Hell, I caused my fair share of them to happen. You said Parker was into anti-government shit a long time ago. I’m saying Parker was sheep-dipped, like Oswald. This stinks of the CIA.”
“Whom you’re angry with because of how they treated you. Why would the government initiate such an elaborate scheme to blow up one of its own buildings?” Mai asked.
“Maybe a cabal of right-wing extremists with mainstream connections are conspiring to create an autocracy in the U.S. Maybe the destruction of a federal building by a terrorist bomb provides a good excuse to pass restrictive legislation.”
“Speculation on your part.”
“It has a certain logic.”
“Your logic.”
“Baby, the Company does still throw me an occasional bone in the form of doing background checks. I had to cover my tracks nine ways to doomsday for this little inquiry of yours.”
“You’ve given me a lot to consider. I have to see how it meshes with what I already know.”
“That’s your way of dismissing my intel. Look, one other thing Parker may have learned from the rag heads. They’re great at planning the big bangs, like the Marine barracks or the World Trade Center, but the planners, the main guys, are always conspicuously absent on the day it goes down. Who’d the FBI get for the WTC?”
“Low-level guys going to get a refund for the Ryder truck.”
“Like they were told to. Parker may have learned that lesson and is setting his Army buddy up to take the fall. Even if Parker’s taken in as an accomplice, it’ll still look like Carroll’s the mastermind. Also, consider this. The rag heads may be using this as a test case.”
“For what?”
“How big a bomb it takes to bring down a building. They didn’t succeed with the WTC in ’93, but they’ll keep trying until it’s dust. Even better when the test case looks like domestic terrorism.”
“That makes more sense than drug cartels. Christian Identity shares many medieval ideas with Islamic fundamentalists.” She leaned against him and smiled. “As usual, nothing is simple with you.”
He grinned at her. “I believe in making life interesting. Now, here’s a personal observation. You’re too protective of Carroll. No, don’t leave,” he said, holding her tighter. “This is Snake. Not your boss, not your partner-slash-husband. Listen to how you talk about Carroll. You’re too close. Back off.”
“Snake, you’re pushing the limits of friendship.”
“No, I’m giving you the benefit of my decades of experience. You’ve started to associate with him, not good when it’s time to put a bullet in his head.”
She looked away from him and closed her eyes. Before he could question her about what that meant, she stood. “We didn’t discuss price,” she said.
Terrell stood, too, staying close to her. “This was a professional courtesy. That, and I want to get into your pants.”
Her smile was brief but heart-warming. “That hasn’t changed.”
“Things better with the old man?”
“Not really.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. Look, he’ll wake and notice I’m gone, and I’m tired of his senior partner lectures. I better go.”
“All right, Baby. Be extra careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
His hand cupped her bruised cheek. “Yeah, I can see that.”
She walked away.
When she was out of earshot, Terrell said, “I know you’re there.”
Alexei Bukharin stood beside Terrell, his eyes on the names of long-dead men. With Mai gone, Terrell fished a cigarette from his pack and put it between his lips. Alexei brought out a lighter. After a long draw on the cigarette, Terrell nodded to The Wall.
“How many did you put there?” he asked.
“The Red Army never sent me to Vietnam. You know that.”
“What brings you out on a night like this?”
“Looking out for my interests.”
“Nothing happened. Did you hear our chat?”
“Most of it. You’re right. She’s too close. She pulled her gun on him and didn’t shoot.”
“I hope you gave her a ration of shit.”
“She doesn’t listen to me right now.”
/> Terrell smoked, watching the Russian from the corner of his eye. “Why are you telling me?”
“She’s my wife, and I’m far too focused on that sometimes. She’s also a damned good operative.”
“No question.”
“If you care about her as much as you claim, get the point across sometimes we kill people we like.”
“Did she hesitate because she’s fucking him?”
“If she were, she’d tell me to one-up.”
“The getting close thing? Happens to all of us, but I’ll work it into a conversation. How will you get back home ahead of her?”
“The Four-Runner has had starting issues lately. I helped that along tonight. It’ll take her about a half-hour to fix. One more thing. Nelson told me whom you occasionally work for. If it turns bad, and she gets hurt because of what you’re mixed up in, I’ll kill you.”
“Big threats, Comrade. Where were you when she got the fuck beat out of her?”
“None of your concern. Did you understand me?”
“Yeah, I’m pissing my pants I’m so scared. When did you stop being an operative and become an insecure husband?”
Alexei smiled, though Terrell saw little joy behind it. “About the time I married her.”
Terrell watched him walk away, opposite from where Mai had gone. Symbolism indeed.
3
After the Fact
Mount Vernon, Virginia
Siobhan, please be safe, and please remember to destroy my letters to you. It’s more important than ever. Siobhan, I… Goodbye. Siobhan, I… I love you.”
At some point during the replay of the manic phone call from John Carroll, Alexei had entered the office and stood, listening. She braced herself for a caustic remark, but none came.
“Did that just come in?” Alexei asked.
“The message light’s been flashing for days. I didn’t want to listen.”
“Nice of him to be so concerned. After the fact.”
