Moonlight Warriors: A Tale of Two Hit Men (7 page)

“Okay,” Fatima said.

They all went into the kitchen to inspect the damage.  A short while later, Charlie
departed.

At about eight o’clock in the morning, he returned and dismissed the two officers who had maintained the vigil throughout the night. 

Fatima was waiting inside with her travel bag packed.  She profusely thanked Walter for his protection and hospitality,
then she got into the car with Jenny and Charlie and rode away.

“In spite of what has happened, I am going to continue to work on the Intelligent Agency project.  I won’t allow the terrorists to stop me; I won’t be intimidated.  Since I have my laptop computer with me, I can do my work anywhere.”

“Good,” Jenny said.  “You can help to get this Intelligent Agency project completed as soon as possible.  Once that biotechnology program is running on numerous computers all over the United States, the extremists will have failed and no longer have any interest in you.  You will be safe.”

Fatima looked out the car window.  “Where are you taking me?”

“To the Holiday Inn,” Charlie said.  “You, Jenny, and a policewoman will share a room there.”

Chapter 10

Lovely Lady Dressed in Blue

Later that evening, Jenny and Fatima went out onto the balcony of their hotel room.

Fatima held onto the balcony rail and gazed outward.  “The moon is quite beautiful tonight.”

Jenny smiled.  “It’s lovely.  In fact, just last evening Charlie and I had dinner with his brother’s family.  As we were leaving, we both noticed the full moon and discussed the important symbolism of the moon.  I know that the moon is an important symbol for the Islamic faith.”

“Yes, it is.”  

“Fatima is a beautiful name.”

“Thank you.”

“I try to be an ecumenical person, so I like that your name has a connection to both the Christian and Muslim faiths.”

“Yes, Mohammed’s daughter was named Fatima.   When she died, he wrote,
‘
Thou shalt be the most blessed of all the women in Paradise, after Mary.’  I am also aware that there is a little village in Portugal named Fatima in which Mary appeared to some children in 1917.   I once visited the Shrine of Our Lady of Lebanon near Beirut.  Many Muslims visit that shrine.”

“You are apparently an ecumenical person, too,” Jenny said with a smile.  “Mary has always been important to me.”  Jenny pointed toward the night sky.  “In his sermon, I once heard a priest explain that the moon reflects the light of the sun and that is exactly what Mary does: she reflects the light of her Son.   The priest quoted a great Christian scholar named Thomas Aquinas who said that ‘As sailors are guided by a star to the port, so Christians are guided to Heaven by Mary.’”

“I am familiar with Thomas Aquinas,” Fatima said.  

“You certainly know about a lot of things in addition to computers and biotechnology.  You have a broad spectrum of knowledge --- you’re a Renaissance woman.”

“And you know about many things besides your police work,” Fatima said with a chuckle.

A few minutes later Charlie arrived, and he and Jenny took the elevator down to the lobby and went into the restaurant that was attached to the hotel lobby.

While they sipped their cappuccinos, Jenny told Charlie about her conversation with Fatima on the balcony.

“During my college days, I recall reading in a book by Fulton Sheen that in trying to spread the Christian faith, it is always best to start with that which people already accept.”

“Like Saint Paul did that with the Romans,” Jenny interjected.  “Paul told the Romans that he had noticed their statue
To an Unknown God
.  He proceeded to explain to them that this Unknown God was Jesus Christ.”

“Exactly,” Charlie said.  “Modern missionaries can approach people in the same way as Saint Paul did.   Since Muslims have a great admiration for Mary, our missionaries can expand and develop that esteem for
her , knowing that Mary will carry the Muslims the rest of the way to Jesus Christ.”

“Our Lady of Fatima can serve as the bridge that carries Muslims home to her Son,” Jenny said.

Chapter 11

Everything is Not as It Seems

“Your impatience has jeopardized this entire operation!”  Saud Tariq glowered down at Elaine
Sandhaven.  She was a tall woman, but he was a very tall man.

“I had no choice!” she defended herself.  “Do you understand?  I had no choice.  Dennis was getting suspicious of me.  And he and his little Fatima were getting very close to completing that Intelligent Agency project.  If I had not slowed them down, the United States government might now have that entire anti-biological warfare program.”

“They would not have had the program.  I had the situation under control.  Now I need to clean up your mess.   Why did you hire those two hit men, Marcus and Chuck?  You had two Al Qaeda-trained operatives right here at this company.  Shaukat Khan and Maulana Hafsa could have killed Dennis Sandhaven for you.  It was not necessary to bring in outside help.”

“
Shaukat and Maulana have only worked here for two months.  I only knew that they were sent to help with our biological warfare project.  I thought that they were just computer nerds; I did not know that they were trained fighters.”

Saud waved his hand dismissively.  “What is done is done.  I will try to correct the situation.   Give me the names and all the information that you have about the two hit men that you hired.”

“What are you going to do?”

“What do you think?” Saud asked contemptuously.

Elaine nodded.  “I suppose they do have to die.”

“Try not to create any more problems for me.”

“You are being unjustly harsh with me.  I have made a couple of mistakes recently, but overall I have done well and have served faithfully.”  Her eyes filled with tears.  “I have sacrificed much for our cause.  My husband has taken our son and disappeared.  I might never see my son again!”

Saud’s expression softened.  “Perhaps I am taking out my frustrations on you.  I am under a lot of pressure.  The people who are pursuing me are not fools.  I need to throw them off my trail.”

Elaine had an idea.  “Why don’t we give the FBI a scapegoat?  Perhaps then they will think they have got their man.”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

“Yes.  There is an Iranian here who would be the perfect scapegoat.  He was once one of us, but he has become Americanized and no longer serves our cause.”

Saud grinned at her.  “You return to my good favor, sister.”

Chapter 12

Quid
est veritas?

Jenny and Charlie stopped by Ted Drewes Frozen Custard on Chippewa Street, then took their sundaes over to Francis Park, just a few blocks away.  They parked, got out of the car, and sat on a park bench.

“When I was a teenager, I used to come over here to Francis Park sometimes to play tennis with a friend who went to Bishop
DuBourg High School,” Jenny said. “Of course, since I’ve always lived so close to Carondelet Park, that’s usually been the park where I’ve done my bike riding and jogging.”

“Almost every day over a thousand persons walk or jog around Francis Park,” Charlie said as he scooped out another spoonful of frozen custard.  “The park is a bit more than a mile around.”

“Yes. The perfect distance for an evening walk.”

“There’s a church across the street from each of the four corners of the park.”  Charlie   pointed down Nottingham Avenue at St. Gabriel the Archangel Church. “Sometimes this area is called ‘Archangel Row.’  Besides St. Gabriel’s, you also have St. Raphael the Archangel parish here in St. Louis Hills and St. Michael the Archangel parish two miles away in Shrewsbury.”

“I think that we might need some angelic help to catch this assassin,” Jenny said.  “He always seems to be one step ahead of us.”

“You’ve noticed that, too.  Do you have any ideas about how he is getting his information?”

“Maybe he’s psychic,” Jenny suggested jokingly.

Charlie laughed.  “I’ll believe that he is a psycho, but not a psychic.  If he could read minds, he would have completed his mission by now and made his escape.”

“I checked both of our cars for any electronic tracking device, but both cars were clean.”

“I haven’t washed my car in many weeks, Jenny.  I certainly wouldn’t say that it’s clean.”

“You know what I mean!”

“And we didn’t discuss on the telephone where we sent Fatima Cedars, so it wouldn’t matter if he was bugging the phone lines.”

“See.  He must be psychic.”

“I’m afraid that he’s getting inside information from someone either in our police department or in the FBI.  Or the assassin could be a cop or FBI agent.”

“You’ve discovered my secret identity as Jihad Jenny.”

“I knew that you would confess sooner or later.  However, Jihad Jenny, I don’t think that you’re the person that I’m looking for this week.”

“Charlie, besides us, our supervisor is the only other person in the department who knew where Fatima was.  I hardly think that Vincent Perkins is in league with an assassin.”

“That would be hard to imagine.  However, could he have written the information down somewhe
re and his note was found by the assassin or someone helping him.”

“Even that’s pretty unlikely.  I think that the weak link in the chain is with our FBI helpers.”

“Really?” Jenny’s eyebrows raised in surprise.  “They both seem very smart.”

“I don’t doubt that they are smart. 
However, …”

Charlie was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone.  For his ringtone, he had a verse from an old country music song entitled
Beer for My Horses
.  He liked both the tune as well as the law-and-order theme of the song.

Charlie glanced down at the caller ID on the phone.  “Speaking of weak links
who are smart,” he said before answering the phone call.  “Hello, Sam.  This is Charlie Valentine.”

“Charlie, David and I have a lead on the identity of the killer.  We’d like for you and your partner to join us when we go to his apartment to make the arrest.”          

A willowy woman in her mid-twenties with very curly brunette hair opened the door.

“Yes?”  She was startled to see four persons at her door.

“Miss Jackie Avalon?  My name is Jenny Halloran.  I’m a detective with the St. Louis Police Department.  This is Lieutenant Charlie Valentine.”  She held up her badge.

“I knew it.  The second that I saw the four of you, I knew that you were cops.”

“Actually, Lieutenant Valentine and I are the cops.  These two gentlemen are FBI agents.  May we come in?”

When she hesitated, Sam moved forward.  “We have a search warrant.  Lieutenant Halloran was just being polite.”  He was already in the doorway.

“Yes.  Come in.  What do you want?”

Sam squeezed past her into the apartment, carefully scanning the room. 

“We have a few questions about Ali Aziz,” Charlie said as they went into the living room.  “I understand that he’s a friend of yours.”

“Yes.  He lives here with me.”

“He’s your boyfriend?” David asked.

“Yes.  For about a year.  Why are you asking about him?”

Sam returned from a quick inspection of the kitchen.  “Miss Avalon, last night the local FBI office received an anonymous phone call saying that Ali Aziz was working for an Islamic extremist group.”

“No!  No, he’s not!  He’s just an art student at the university.  We’re both students there!  That’s where we met.  He is an art student, not a terrorist.  He hates violence.”

“That would be the image that he projects to everyone,” Sam said.  “Do you know what a sleeper agent is?”

“No.”

“A sleeper agent infiltrates a country and then becomes part of the society.  He just leads a normal life for years before he receives a message to begin his subversive activities.”

“Ali is not a sleeper agent or any type of agent,” she insisted.

“Where is he right now?” Sam asked.

“He was at his job on campus, but he is due home any minute.  Oh, this is all a mistake!”

“It might be,” Jenny assured her.  “Sometimes persons have come under unfair scrutiny.”

Sam walked into the bedroom. “Does your boyfriend have any weapons?”

“No!”

“Has he ever mentioned anything about a computer program called Intelligent Agency?” David inquired.

“No.”  She took her cell phone out of her purse.  “I’d better call him. He might freak out if he walks in and sees the four of you.”

“Put down that phone!” Sam commanded, coming out of the bedroom.  “If you warn him, he’ll run and you’ll never see him again.”

“I tell you that he’s innocent!”

Sam held up some papers.  “Then what were these doing on the desk?  This is a newspaper article about Douglas Neldt’s assassination.  And here is a booklet about Islamic jihad.”

“I have never seen those before,” she objected.  “We don’t even subscribe to the newspaper.”  She again pulled her cell phone out of her purse. “I really should call him.”

“I have told you that you can’t,” Sam said.

“You don’t understand.  It’s important that he knows you’re here so that he won’t be startled when he arrives.”

“Why?” David asked.

“It just is!”

“What aren’t you telling us?” Sam demanded.

“He received a threatening phone call last night, and it freaked him out.  He was afraid that someone might attack him today, so he took a gun with him to the campus.”

“Damn!” David said.

“He’s armed.”  Sam snapped open the buckle on his shoulder holster.

“Don’t hurt him!”

“We won’t,” Charlie said.  “We just want him to answer some questions.”

“He might not be home for a while.  After he gets off work, he often goes to the studio for an hour or so.  Or he might stop by the deli.”

“Does he have a permit for that gun?” David asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Why does he have a gun?”

“He had it packed away with some of his stuff.  I think that he had almost forgotten that he owned a gun until he received that phone call last night.”

“Why did he purchase the gun in the first place?”

She hesitated.  “Years ago, when he first came to this country, he was involved with some Islamic extremists.  I suppose that he could have been considered one of your so-called sleeper agents.  But then he got to like life better in this country.  He broke off all contact with the extremists.  He likes America.”

“At least that’s what he told you,” Sam said.

“It’s the truth.”

“The
truth as you know it.”

“Truth is truth.”

“Veritas.  Quid est veritas?” Sam asked.

Charlie went to the front window and looked outside.  “So it might be a while until he gets home?”

“It’s hard to say.”

“While we’re waiting, I’m going to take a quick look around the apartment,” Charlie said.

“I’ll join you in a few minutes,” Jenny said, wanting to ask the woman some additional questions.

“Okay.”  Charlie went into the small kitchen and looked in the drawer and cabinets.  Not finding anything of interest, he went into the one bedroom.

Charlie walked over to the computer on a small desk by the window.  He considered turning it on, but he decided to wait until later because a thorough examination of the files could take a long time.  He was especially interested in reading the man’s e-mail.

Charlie searched the closet and found nothing unusual.  He began going through a chest of drawers.  Beneath a stack of tee-shirts, he found a knife.

“Jenny, could you come here a moment?”

She came into the room.  “What do you have?”

He pointed at the knife, careful not to touch it.  “Those look like bloodstains to me.”

“I think you’re correct.”  A tiny flashlight appeared in her hand, and she trained the beam on the blade of the knife.

“You have more gizmos than James Bond,” Charlie said admiringly.

“A girl needs to be prepared,” she said.

They heard the sounds of commotion coming from the living room.  A woman was shouting.

Jenny and Charlie ran into the room to see the front door open.  David was holding back Jackie, who was attempting to get to the door.

“Ali Aziz is out front!” David told the detectives, causing them to dash outside.

Sam was rapidly approaching the man.  Ali Aziz shouted at him in Arabic, then pulled a handgun from his backpack and started to aim it at Sam.

With speed and efficiency, Sam drew his own weapon from his shoulder holster and shot Ali in the chest before the man could open fire.

Jenny was instantly on her cell phone calling for medical help. Having seen the shooting through the front window of her apartment, Jackie could no longer be restrained.  She broke free from David’s grip and ran outside down to the sidewalk, all the while screaming hysterically.

Her boyfriend was clearly dead.  Charlie bent down and scooped up Ali’s handgun so that Jackie could not do anything foolish.  She knelt down and hugged Ali’s body.

“Why? Why?”  Her plaintive wail sounded up and down the street as neighbors emerged from apartments and houses.

Charlie said a silent prayer as he watched the woman cradling the body of her loved one in her lap.  He had seen similar scenes through the years, and every time it reminded him of the Pieta, Michelangelo’s great sculpture depicting Mary holding the body of Christ.