Garage Sale Diamonds (Garage Sale Mystery) (41 page)

“If that’s what we decide. Any other ideas about it, Jay?” He shook his head. “Then shall we vote? Thumbs up or thumbs down?”

“You use two hands and I use one?” he laughed.

Jennifer joined in. “So are we conspirators furthering the greater good?”

“How have I lived with you all these years and remained sane?” he wondered aloud. “It’s a good thing for you that I have a concussion and am not thinking clearly because I vote thumbs up with both hands, too. That means four thumbs for conspiracy.”

She threw her arms around him and planted kisses on his smiling lips.

He whispered in her ear. “I like the way you seal a bargain.” 

103

Wednesday, 3:03 PM

“Put the rifles over here,” Ahmed instructed as he supervised the Russians delivering weaponry at the warehouse. His phone rang, “Here, Abdul, take over please while I answer.”

“Hello.”

“Ahmed, it’s Khadija. I…I thought about our talk and…and I’d like to know more of your plan.”

“I will come right over.” Assuming a business-like expression, he said to Abdul, “I must borrow your car again. Please oversee the remaining delivery. I will return very soon.”

Abdul scowled but produced the keys. Ahmed drove directly to Khadija’s house.

She met him at her front door. “Come, let’s sit in the study.”

“You want to know more of my plan? Have you spoken of this with anybody else, dear one?” She shook her head. “I’ve thought it all out. I plan to begin the defection process this afternoon. If all goes well and if you chose to go with me, I would return for you tomorrow. I would call before I come to get you. For your own protection, I don’t think I should tell you more unless…unless you want to start this new life with me.” He looked inquiringly into her expressive hazel eyes. Her serious expression dampened his hope she would share his future. “Khadija? Have you made a decision?”

She spoke with difficulty. “Yes, I have.”

“What is your decision?”

“I would like to come with you, Ahmed.”

“Praise Allah, peace be upon His name,” he cried. “Oh thank you, beloved Khadija, for your brave and loving choice.” In a spontaneous move, he embraced her. But his mind swam with surprise as much as desire when she lifted her lips to gently brush his mouth.

104

Wednesday, 1:37 AM

Ahmed parked at the McLean police station on Balls Hill Road. The fewer people who saw what he did now the better. He searched for prying eyes before going inside, for the Great Leader’s tentacles entwined everywhere. Might he have placed a sleeper in the Fairfax County Police force? Ahmed must stay alert. Every step involved terrible risk.

Without ID papers or a drivers license he knew he couldn’t drive into Homeland Security’s compound, though that was his destination. His entire future depended upon making the right choices now. He needed another way in.

“Hello,” he said into the lobby phone indicated by the man behind the glass window. “I would like to speak to the highest ranking officer here today. This is urgent. Can you help me?”

“Your name?” asked the uniform. Ahmed told him. “What’s the problem so I know how to direct your inquiry?”

Ahmed cleared his throat, buying time to think of the answer. “It is a personal matter. The timing is urgent. I must talk now with the officer I mentioned.”

“Just a minute,” the uniform said.

Ahmed watched him speak into another phone. He knew the uniform noted his accent and Middle-Eastern features. He understood too well their reason to proceed with caution.

The policeman in the window gestured impatiently as he spoke words unheard in the lobby. A moment later a policeman came through the door and said, “What can I do for you, sir?”

This man was young, not an experienced, silver-haired veteran who’d heard it all. “This is a serious matter I cannot discuss in the lobby. Can we please talk in a private place?”

The policeman shot a guarded look toward his associate behind the glass window. “There’s nobody here right now, so this is a private place, Sir.”

Ahmed’s disappointment showed. “Perhaps I made a mistake in coming here. I thought you would help me.” He stood to leave.

“I want to help you, but first I need to know your problem.”

This seemed reasonable. Ahmed sat again. “I need to speak immediately with Homeland Security.  I know details of a terrorist attack planned very soon. I risked my life to come here. If other operatives see me here, I am a dead man. Please get me out of this lobby fish bowl.”

The policeman read a mix of determination and fear on Ahmed’s face. Probably a crank, but you never knew. The word “terrorist” meant he’d have to hear him out.

“Come with me.” The policeman led the way through the door to an interrogation room, flipping on the light as they entered. “We can talk here. Have a seat.” They faced each other across a small table. “I am Officer Eatmon. What is your name?”

Ahmed told him. “My name means nothing to you nor will it to Homeland Security, but my knowledge has crucial value for them. In your newspaper, I read that county and federal governments share information in emergency situations. You are county and Homeland Security is federal but you can contact them to talk to me. This is correct? They must talk to me tonight to stop this horror from happening only days away. It is, as you say, Flash Red.”

Officer Eatmon looked confused a moment then brightened. “You mean Code Red?”

“That is it, Code Red.” Ahmed looked relieved. “You understand, then.”

Eatmon searched the man’s face. No question that he believed what he said, but that didn’t make it true. “Excuse me a minute.” The officer left, closing the door behind him. In the next room he picked up a phone, consulted his Rolodex and dialed a number. “Hello, is this Steve Wolf?... Ken Eatmon here, Steve. How do you like working over at the new spook building?... Yeah, pretty much the same here at the station since you left, but here’s something that might interest you. I got a guy here says he knows all about a terrorist attack in a few days. He looks scared enough and says he’s dead if the terrorists find him. He asked to talk to the highest-ranking person at the station, which happens to be me right now. I could have called the official Homeland number on our list but thought I’d run it past you first…. No, he looks Middle-Eastern but clean-shaven, regular haircut, good English but foreign accent…. I’d say thirty to thirty-five but I can ask his age if you want…. Yeah, he’s a hundred percent believable or I wouldn’t call…. No, he says it’s urgent. Code Red, he says…. Do I bring him there or you come here?...You want the conference room? Okay, see you in ten.”

Officer Eatmon returned to Ahmed. “They’re sending some people from Homeland Security in ten minutes. You want coffee, a soda or water while you’re waiting? Water? Okay, we’ll wait for them in a bigger room. Follow me.”

105

Wednesday, 2:13 PM

Steve Wolf arrived with three associates. Introductions over, he asked, “May I call you Ahmed?”

He nodded.

“How can we help you?”

“I wish to trade detailed information about terrorist attacks coming very soon in northern Virginia and elsewhere in exchange for safety in your witness protection program—safety for me and my fiancé, an American in McLean.”

“The witness protection program?”

“My fiancé and I wish to start a new life as Americans somewhere in the United States.”

“But you said she is an American.”

Ahmed smiled. “You are correct. I should have said I wish to start a new life as an American with my American fiancé somewhere in the United States. Can you provide this for the two of us?”

Steve and the men with him exchanged looks. Now that he’d delivered himself to their control, they each mentally reviewed their options: arrest him, interrogate him, imprison him; maybe even turn him, creating a mole to feed vital information until his own people discovered his duplicity and killed him. Meantime, they’d use a different strategy.

“Let’s say we agree to this. How do we know your information is true?”

“You have already arrested seven of my men, two at a bank, two at a McLean woman’s house and three in a field with a boy. If you accept my plan, you will soon arrest more whose names and locations I provide, thus wiping out my entire cell. In the process, you prevent a terrible calamity.”

“How many more are there?”

“Eleven besides me in this area; more elsewhere.”

“And if we don’t agree?”

“My lawyers will hand-deliver my letter to a certain famous reporter at The Washington Post. It says I am going to warn Homeland Security about the disaster. If I do not contact him within thirty-six hours, my lawyer delivers the letter. The attack you don’t know about will take place in your back yard, showing the public your organization’s incompetence. If you agree to my trade, your signed document assuring me witness protection will stay in his vault until I contact him in one month that my new life is in position. I will contact him each month thereafter to ensure you don’t change your mind.”

“And you need this protection because…”

“The Great Leader will post a fatwa for my life the moment he learns I meet you today. Even without his direction, my own cellmates would turn on me like jackals. In my country, what I do now is unthinkable.”

“This is a serious, life-altering change for you. How did you decide to break from them?”

“My fiancé showed me that murdering defenseless people doesn’t glorify God; it shames him.”

“And how did you decide to come to us?”

“Because my wife-to-be and I believe my god wants us to live long, peaceful, productive lives. We want children and a safe life for them. That future is impossible without the trade I propose.”

“You want to defect?”

“Yes.”

“Have you told anyone else your plan?”

“No, we wanted to avoid danger for her family when we’re gone. The Great Leader will learn what happened but not how. With no one left to tell, he won’t know who to punish.”

Steve stood up. “Will you excuse us for a moment?” Ahmed nodded.

When they returned, Steve faced Ahmed and nodded. “We like what you’ve told us. We want to know more. Let’s talk further at our building.”

Ahmed lifted a warning hand. “You must know more before we go. If I fail to appear somewhere in two hours, the others will know something is wrong. If I fail to appear at all, they will consult the Great Leader, who could accelerate or alter our current plans. I guarantee my information only if I continue to lead my cell. Timing is critical. You must hide my defection with an accident in which I appear to die. This must happen tomorrow, on your Thanksgiving Day. Can you do this? If not, we have no more reason to talk. I have been trained to withstand brutal interrogation.”

Steve and the others looked uncomfortable. Reading their faces, Ahmed added, “Look, I came to cooperate. I bring you a well-designed plan, in which you stop multi-terrorist acts, arrest the men involved and fake my death to avoid the Great Leader’s reprisals. I hand you this ready-made plan. You need only to say yes.”

“Yes,” Steve said suddenly. As they prepared to leave, he turned to Ahmed. “Just out of curiosity, how did you come up with the ideas of faking your death and stashing documents with a lawyer for insurance?”

Ahmed smiled. “I saw it on American TV.”

106

Wednesday, 4:53 PM

Ahmed pulled up to the warehouse, found Abdul and returned his keys. “Thank you. Are all the weapons on the list accounted for?” he nodded. “Then today’s work is finished. Well done.”

Anna walked up to Ahmed, extending her hand. “Good to do business with you. Until next time.”

As she left, all male eyes followed her well-formed body as she clicked across the warehouse on her stiletto heels, climbed into her sports car and zoomed away.

Abdul and Ahmed locked the warehouse and returned to the motel. They’d kept their relationship at a business level, so Abdul felt surprise when Ahmed asked, “Would you like to say goodbye to your family tonight?”

“I’ll do that tomorrow.”

“Then I will use your car to bring in the meals tonight and afterward for a brief errand.”

Feeling trapped into this, Abdul didn’t respond. They drove to the motel in silence.

On the drive into Vienna to buy the eleven dinners, Ahmed phoned Khadija. ”May I join your family for dinner tonight? I have news.” Breathless, she agreed.

After delivering meals to the motel, Ahmed drove to the house. Zayneb greeted him warmly.

As they ate, Safia asked, “Do you know when my Baba comes back from his trip?”

“No, I don’t.” Instead he asked, “Do you have holiday vacation now?” The child nodded.

“And you, Khadija?” They smiled at their secret: her work vacation wouldn’t matter, for tomorrow they’d be on the way to their future.

“Yes, vacation for me also,” she said.

As Heba replenished the vegetables, Ahmed said to her, “This food is very good.” Again, she gave a brief nod and flicker of a smile as she modestly averted her face. What was it about this woman that puzzled him? If he could look squarely into her face…but he saw no polite way to do so. Distracted with this thought as Khadija passed him the sauce, he let the bowl slip from his hand and the contents splashed across the front of his shirt. He pushed back his chair, gathered up what he could in his napkin and blotted the rest with napkins handed him by the others. On her feet, Khadija said, “Come into the kitchen. Take off your shirt so we can wash out the spot in the sink and put it in the dryer. You’ll have it back like new very soon.” He followed her.