Garage Sale Diamonds (Garage Sale Mystery) (6 page)

“Ouch!” Jennifer cringed. “This must have seemed an extraordinary demand.”

“Yes, but Abraham obeyed, as always. Then God told Abraham his wife would bear a son to be named Isaac, so when Ishmael was fourteen years old, Abraham 100 and Sarah ninety, she had her first baby and named him Isaac. They circumcised him at eight-days old, per the covenant with God. When Isaac was weaned, Abraham threw a celebration feast. At this event Sarah noticed Hagar scoffing at this favoring of Isaac over Ishmael. You see, no such party happened for her son although born first. Jealous again, Sarah asked Abraham to ‘cast out this bondswoman and her son; for the son of this bondswoman shall not be heir with my son Isaac.’ Upset about this, Abraham consulted God, who said to go along with Sarah’s wishes, for God would make nations from both these sons. So next morning, Abraham gave Hagar food and a skin of water and sent her with Ishmael into the wilderness.”

“Not too different from today’s soap opera tales, is it?”

“No, but this story isn’t over. Hagar wandered the desert of Beersheba until her food and water ran out. Resigned to death, she shaded her dying son under a shrub. She walked away—to avoid seeing him perish—and wept. But God heard her son’s cries and sent an angel to Hagar saying God would make a well of water to save and protect the boy for his future. They lived in the wilderness until the boy grew up and eventually married an Egyptian wife Hagar found for him.”

“A happy ending, then?”

“Not yet. Before Hagar and Ishmael were kicked out, God tested Abraham’s faith with another startling order: to sacrifice his son as a burnt offering to God. Muslims and Jews agree about this event but not about which son he tied down on the sacrificial rock. As Abraham raised his knife to obey God by killing his son before lighting the sacrificial fire, a ram caught his horns in a nearby bush. God said to sacrifice the ram instead of the son. Abraham had again proved his faith. God promised to multiply this son’s descendants ‘as numerous as the stars in the sky and the sand on the seashore.’ He added other special blessings. But was this nearly-sacrificed son Isaac, as the Jews record in the Torah, or Ishmael, as Muslims claim in Muhammad’s Quran modification?”

“I see the problem. Were these Abraham’s only sons?” Jennifer asked.

“He fathered more children, but these two ‘first’ sons create the schism between Judaism and Islam. Biblical scholars disagree about some ancient writings and what they really mean. Some think them more legend than gospel. Sumerian rules of succession at the time apparently upheld the rank of a son born to a first wife as greater for inheritance than a son born to a second wife or concubine. Sumerians also upheld that a child born to a relative of the man ranked higher than to a non-relative. Some scholars think Sarah was Abraham’s half-sister, which would give Isaac the birthright no matter if Ishmael was born first. Others think ‘sister’ is a generic term in that culture for any female relatives. Then Muslims point out God said elsewhere that marrying a sister was an abomination, making Ishmael the rightful heir, so even more confusion.”

Jennifer nodded. “I see. Three great monotheistic religious nations sprang from Abraham just as prophesied. Judiasm through Isaac in Torah, Christianity through the Jewish prophet named Jesus in the New Testament, and Islam via the Prophet Muhammad’s Quran version of Ishmael’s Arab branch.”

“Yes. Once Muhammad reinterpreted Abraham’s story, Muslims hated Jews for their cruel treatment of Hagar and her son Ishmael. Both were significant figures in their religion. But don’t forget that geo-political reasons also play strategic roles, compounded by ethnic and religious differences. Consider, as part of the picture, that current uprisings in the Arab world are not about scriptures but about land, politics and economics plus Islamic opposition to Westernization. Similarly, the nation of Israel isn’t biblically driven at this point but fighting for survival. It no longer boils down to just a theological debate.”

Jennifer shifted in her chair. “Taking-what-you-have-that-I-want is as old as the caveman who found death a quick, permanent solution for anyone disagreeing with him. And he could steal his victim’s property afterward as further incentive.”

“Religious zeal and a God’s presumed blessing to take-what-you-want, destroy-all-who-disagree, avenge-past-injustice—real or imagined—and blame scapegoats… All this nourishes a recipe for terrorism. Rewards with virgins in paradise and awed respect for martyrs on earth further this madness. Islam is not only a religion but an entire social, political, cultural, legal and military ideology.”

“What happened to ‘live-and-let-live’?” Jennifer asked.

“Ah, that’s the real puzzle. But how can we ‘get along’ with radicals single-mindedly focused on destroying Israel and, now, western cultures of Europe and America?”

They pondered this question silently. Jennifer sighed. “Larry, I’m impressed by your knowledge. You’ve given me new insights. Thanks for taking time from your walk to tell me about this.”

“My pleasure.” He stood, eyeing the last brownie.

“Please take this for the walk home,” Jennifer urged.  “By the way, I’m curious. How do you happen to know so much about this subject?”

“Well, it just so happens that at the Reform temple I mentioned, I’m the rabbi.”

13

Thursday,  almost midnight

Ahmed bolted upright in bed. Sweat dampened his body and the sheets on which he slept. His frightened eyes swept the room until he realized the horrific memory of his parents’ deaths before his eyes was only the painful recurring dream. Distant in both time and location from that experience thirty years ago in the Middle East, he slept tonight in a house in McLean, Virginia.

A glance at the clock confirmed he’d wakened in the middle of the night. He shook his head with grief at his father’s execution, his mother’s adored but deathly-still face and the murdered infant. Would he ever purge these ghastly childhood images? Yet, didn’t their murders provide the root cause for his sitting tonight in McLean: avenging their undeserved deaths as his mother wished?

He turned on the bedside lamp, shuffled to the bathroom and doused his face at the sink. Filling a glass with water, he sank into the upholstered armchair, drained the glass and looked around the room he’d first entered this afternoon. A wallpaper border of animals circled the wainscoting, suggesting a child used this room previously. When he’d shoved his battered suitcase into the closet earlier tonight, a box of toys pushed to one end confirmed that theory.

Smaller than numerous mansions he’d driven past to reach this McLean neighborhood, this house fit well into its surrounding residential development. Though modest by McLean standards, it contrasted grandly with his simple accommodations in the country he’d left only months ago.

Mahmud, his host, welcomed him warmly at the Safeway this afternoon. “Your room will be cleaned daily, your laundry washed and your meals prepared. Eat with my family or in your room.” Due to fatigue this first night, he chose the latter and settled into his new, final abode.

Now at his McLean destination, he’d start the long-awaited action. Mahmud, and other “sleeper” comrades placed here decades earlier, had assimilated into this community to await their destiny—and now that time had arrived.

“Have you mail for me?” Ahmed asked his host upon arrival and was handed two letters and a package. All were addressed to Tom Johnson in care of Mahmud’s McLean address. In his room Ahmed opened the box containing the promised thirteen untraceable cell phones. With one he’d communicate only with the Great Leader. Cell members would get ten, he the eleventh and an extra. The package came from Dearborn, Michigan, one letter from Columbus, Ohio, and the other from New York City. With trembling hand, he opened the two letters. They divided the list of the local sleepers’ names and contact data. None knew each other until Ahmed assembled them. If compromised, this ensured no one learned all from one envelope and only “invisible” Ahmed knew how these cell members fit a larger plan.

He phoned Abdul first. Although the man didn’t know it yet, their first meeting would take place at his warehouse tomorrow. Abdul must scramble to clear out employees for this secret session. Once Ahmed established this gathering’s location, he phoned the other names on the list, again using the special codeword to ensure their attention.

“Our friend Scarab asked me to contact you...” He waited while this profound information registered before adding, “about a meeting tomorrow morning at 9:00 at this address—he read Abdul’s warehouse location. “Scarab wants to know you will attend.”

“Yes,” they all responded with surprise but no hesitation. Finishing the nine calls, he relaxed. 

Ahmed’s plot to glorify Allah, peace be upon Him, would unfold at their target. He’d perish while striking the Unbelievers with his lethal sword. This room, then, was his last earthly home.

The clock read 12:08. Though he needed sleep after his arduous two-month trek over sea and land, the upsetting nightmare had jolted him wide awake. So be it—a good time to hide the entrusted treasure he guarded with his life during each leg of his perilous journey to McLean.

But where?

He studied the room. He could tape the packets to the back of the dresser or behind the bed’s headboard, both too heavy to move during routine cleaning. He could pull up a carpet edge, flatten the packets, tuck them beneath and re-attach the rug to the existing tack strip. He could tape them under a drawer, not noticeable unless one lay on the floor to look upward from directly beneath the pulled out drawer. He opened the closet door. His gaze fell upon the box of toys. He pulled it into the room and, given the hour, quietly emptied the contents onto the carpet.

Unfamiliar with American playthings, he gasped at a nude Barbie doll tumbling from the box along with her toy furniture and clothes. Did American boys look at such dolls? Is that how their irreverence for women began? Or was his host’s child a daughter?

He reached for a second doll, this one dressed in simple Middle-Eastern clothing. He studied its wisp of black hair mostly hidden by the hijab, its dark eyes and soft cloth body. The sight of this toy ignited a nearly lost childhood memory of his twin sister playing with a doll remarkably similar. She visited a cousin that terrible day in his homeland, sparing her the grisly killing scenes he witnessed, scenes still haunting his dreams. When she left home that morning, he had no idea he’d never see her again, but the sight of this doll evoked an instant connection with her. Had she survived? If so, where was she now?

His mother’s last words echoed in his mind, foretelling Allah’s guidance in his life. “Look for his signs.” Had she predicted his Allah-directed rescue by the two men following his parents’ brutal murder by depraved American Jews? Had Allah guided his placement at the madrassa by those two men, his graduation to combat training at the tough Yemeni military camp, his selection by the mullah for schooling in the English language and, later, elite special-forces school? And was Allah’s final gift the Great Leader’s selecting Ahmed to lead this suicide mission?

Was tonight’s frightening nightmare of his childhood, followed by the poignant discovery of this doll from the past at the moment he sought his treasure’s hiding place, an accident or an omen?

He examined the doll with new interest, opening its clothes for closer inspection of the cloth body beneath. Yes, he could slice open the fabric, remove some stuffing, hide the packets, cover them with a piece of the batten, stitch the cloth together again and replace the clothes to disguise the surgery. Then he would place the doll out of reach behind his suitcase on the closet’s top shelf.

A smile creased his lips, the first he’d allowed himself during the two months of grueling travel to this house in McLean. He took a small sewing kit from the dresser where he’d unpacked his belongings. Removing scissors, he snipped at stitches in his filthy, travel-worn clothes, tediously collecting the gems secreted into the garment’s seams and hems.

This accomplished, he removed seven sheets of soft jewelry paper hidden in his suitcase’s false compartment. He counted the collected stones twice to assure he’d found them all and divided them into equal groups. Putting ten stones aside, he folded the rest into the jewelry paper to form six packets. Then he wrapped the remaining ten stones in the seventh piece of jewelry paper and placed it on the desk. Crowding diamonds together risked scratching against each other, which lowered their value. But for the number of packets he must hide, less was more.

Scissors in hand, he cut a three-inch slit in the doll’s soft torso, inserted the diamonds and sewed the gash shut over the hidden packets. Viewing his handiwork with approval, he dressed the doll with clumsy hands. Women and girls touched dolls; men of his culture didn’t sully their masculinity by doing so. But he pushed away his distaste. Terrorism was a male province and this mission demanded whatever means were necessary for success.

This job finished, he next wrote his name on an envelope, sealed the smaller package of ten stones inside and pushed the envelope to the back of the desk drawer.

Ahmed sighed with relief. He returned to bed. Exhaustion combined with accomplishment at solving his first challenges in McLean allowed him to drift into immediate, dream-free sleep.

DAY TWO

Friday

14

Friday, 7:02 AM

Ahmed awoke hungry the next morning. He dressed and went downstairs. His host met him at the bottom step.