by Erin Wade
##
Mecca and Jericho listened to the unmistakable sounds of passion coming from the apartment above them. “This is going to make everything much more difficult,” Jericho muttered.
She handed a cup of coffee to Mecca, who was propped against the headboard. “As soon as things quiet down upstairs, I’ll call Kadence.”
“Did that go on all night?” Mecca said sleepily.
“I think so.” Jericho grinned. “At least it was when I went to sleep and when I awoke.”
Mecca giggled. “Good for Kadence. She’s shy around women, you know. Very slow to commit.”
“So you say.” Jericho wiggled her eyebrows. “Sometime when she would walk you home, I would pray that you wouldn’t let her come up to your apartment.
“It would have killed me to hear that sound from you and another woman. I was always glad you were so chaste.”
Mecca smiled. “Honestly, you’re the only woman that has ever caused me to have salacious thoughts.”
“Listen.” Jericho cast her eyes above. “Silence.”
“Quick, call before they start up again,” Mecca said, giggling.
Jericho placed the call.
“Hello?” Kadence said, trying to slow her breathing.
“Good morning to you, Kady,” Jericho said, trying her best not to laugh. “We need to talk.”
“What time?” Kadence inhaled sharply as Faith caressed her.
“About an hour? That should give everyone a chance to shower. “We’ll fix breakfast. I cook a mean egg.”
“Count us in.”
##
Breakfast had been delightful. Kadence explained that her car had slid off the road, and she had been forced to spend the night in Faith’s apartment. Faith blushed as she noticed both Mecca and Jericho suppressing grins.
They refilled their coffee cups and settled in front of the fireplace. Jericho queued up the video of Walid rummaging through Faith’s apartment.
“I’m going to show you something. Then Mecca and I need to talk to you about some serious business.”
The four sat in silence as they watched Walid search Faith’s apartment. Once, he unknowingly shoved his face close to one of the camera lenses. Faith gasped and clung to Kadence.
“What is this?” Kadence snapped.
“Faith, you aren’t aware of this, but when you were first out of surgery, an Arab tried to kill you in the hospital,” Jericho said.
Kadence placed a protective arm around her fiancée. “You’re scaring her.”
“Hear her out,” Mecca advised.
“What I’m about to tell you should frighten you, but we’re here to protect you. About the same time you came into the hospital, there was a major manhunt for a woman named Mariam Reynolds,” Jericho explained. “She is the wife of President Tom Reynolds. She and her three daughters were kidnapped by a terrorist group.
“Somehow, Mariam managed to escape from her captors with the girls. No one has seen them since. I’m fairly certain that the terrorists think you are Mariam Reynolds.”
A shriek escaped Faith’s lips as her hands covered them.
“I . . . I don’t recall any of this,” she said, sobbing. “I can’t recall anything prior to waking in the hospital.”
“We’ll keep working on your memory,” Mecca said, doing her best to soothe her. “Right now, Jericho needs to convince the world that Mariam Reynolds is dead.”
“Before I do that,” Jericho said, “I want to make certain you’re okay with it. I want to show you who Mariam Reynolds was.”
Faith nodded, and Jericho began playing a tribute a cable news station had run in their efforts to help find Mariam. The program discussed her vast wealth and education. It keyed in on her devotion as a mother and wife. The documentary showed her and her daughters together. It talked of some of the meaningful legislation she had helped push through during her time in the House of Representatives.
“This is the legacy of Mariam Reynolds,” Jericho said softly. “Once she is dead, you can never go back to being Mariam Reynolds. You can never tell Tom Reynolds that you are his wife or tell the girls that you’re their mother—if they’re found alive.”
A cold silence fell on the room.
Finally, Faith spoke. “I hope Mariam Reynolds was as happy with her life as I am with mine. If all those memories came flooding back to me today, I would have to make a choice. I would choose Kadence Pride.”
Kadence looked as if she would cry. She hugged Faith closer to her.
“What about the children?” Kadence asked. “Do you know what happened to them?”
“Keep in mind that everything we’re telling you is strictly top secret,” Jericho cautioned. “You can never repeat anything.”
Kadence and Faith nodded.
“Mariam and the children escaped. We are certain she hid the girls somewhere. We do know she was recaptured and, according to her captors, killed. Her killers threw her body into the river. You washed up on the banks of the river.
“The bay patrol thought you were dead at first. They rushed you to the hospital and into the arms of a brilliant team of doctors who were able to save your life.”
“I was asked to counsel Tom Reynolds,” Mecca added. “To find out if he had anything to do with the disappearance of his wife and daughters. He didn’t.
“In the course of working with him, I met the Imam who made the confession that has resulted in the arrest of many terrorists and the seizure of deadly weapons stockpiled by terrorist cells. He gave us the information on what happened to Mariam.”
“Faith, I need your help,” Jericho said. “I need to get a complete set of prints from you and several strands of your hair.”
Jericho led them into her office where she fingerprinted Faith and pulled a few strands of hair from her head. She swabbed her cheek and had her spit into a small plastic bag. She also clipped her fingernails.
“How do you fit into all of this?” Kadence asked Jericho.
“From time to time, Mecca does work for the US government. I’m her handler,” Jericho said.
Despite Jericho’s businesslike tone, Mecca giggled, and soon all of them were laughing.
“Her handler, huh?” Kadence said, winking at Jericho.
“Yes, Kady, her handler.” Jericho grinned.
Chapter 20
“Looks like we’ll be snowed in for a few days,” Jericho said as she looked out the window. “At least I’m in the same room with you and not the floor below you.”
“For five years you did nothing but watch me?” Mecca asked as she joined her on the sofa.
“Well, I did fantasize about you a lot.”
“And have I lived up to your fantasies?” Mecca snuggled into her arms.
“Yes, and then some,” Jericho said, leaning down to kiss her.
Jericho frowned as her cell phone rang, interfering with her plans for Mecca. She answered.
“Did you make it in to work in this storm?” she asked her caller. She listened silently as the caller talked for several minutes.
“Okay, we have to do this today. I’ll be there in an hour.”
“Be where?” Mecca asked as Jericho slipped on her snow boots.
“I must go to the county morgue,” Jericho explained. “A body just came in. Woman, been dead several months. There’s a lot of trauma to her face and ribs. Same basic description as Mariam Reynolds.”
“Can you make her appear to be Mariam Reynolds?”
“She will be by the time I leave.” Jericho scowled as she carefully placed the identification items she had taken from Faith into her backpack.
Mecca filled a thermos with hot coffee and made her several sandwiches. “Just in case everything is closed,” she said. “Since all public transportation is shut down, I assume you’re planning to walk to the morgue.”
“If this storm continues, I may sleep there tonight,” Jericho said, frowning. She leaned down to kiss her. “No, I won’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to s
leep in your arms tonight.”
Mecca caught her arm. “Jericho, why don’t we simply turn this over to General Carson?”
“They would whisk Faith away in the middle of the night. They would place her in the witness protection program, even though she can’t remember anything. Kadence would never see her again. She would never know what happened. I can’t let that happen to a friend. You and I are far more capable of keeping her safe than any police officer or US Marshal.”
“Please be careful, darling,” Mecca murmured against her lips. “Don’t take any chances.”
The snow was blinding. Jericho adjusted her goggles for a better fit, pulled her ski mask down and stuffed it into the collar of her parka, and then pulled up the parka hood and tied it tightly.
She didn’t know which she hated most, the hot sands of Afghanistan or the cold blizzards of New York. At least no one was shooting at her in New York.
She was breathing hard by the time she reached the county morgue. She called Dr. Calvin Lee, her contact, and stamped her feet to stay warm.
Calvin appeared instantly, unlocked the door, and welcomed Jericho inside. “Is that you, Captain?”
“Damn, I hate this weather,” Jericho huffed as she removed the layers of clothing she had worn to face the blizzard.
Calvin snorted. “Tell me about it. I was reassigned from California to this hell hole—at your request, I might add.”
“It’s nice here when it isn’t storming.” Jericho followed Calvin into the refrigerator.
“She fits your woman’s description perfectly,” Calvin said. “Same height, hair color, perfect teeth, lots of broken bones. Unbelievable damage to the facial structure. Has given birth to children.
“There’s really not much of her left. Looks like the marine life picnicked on her for a long time. Hair’s almost gone.”
Jericho studied the body in the drawer. It had floated into the bay just before the storm. The teeth were perfect, just like Faith’s. She wondered who the woman had been. She knew they would never know.
“Yes, I will, by God,” she mumbled under her breath. “Did you fingerprint her?”
“Yeah,” Calvin said. “DNA, the whole nine yards. I figured you would want them for yourself.”
“Thanks,” Jericho said, a hint of a smile on her face. “Are you still the only one here? No one else showed up?”
Calvin nodded.
“Good, lead me to your computers,” Jericho said.
Calvin led her to the room that held computers for facial recognition, DNA, fingerprint matching, and missing persons. Jericho knew they could do much more, but all she cared about was the DNA and fingerprinting.
Before she made Mariam Reynolds disappear forever, she ran the fingerprints on the body in the fridge. Elizabeth Carmichael lived in the Bronx. Jericho wondered what series of events had transpired to bring her to rest on the cold steel slab.
She printed out her information and then ran Faith’s fingerprints. Just as she suspected, Faith was Mariam Reynolds. Mariam’s driver’s license photo looked nothing like the dark-haired beauty who had captivated Kadence Pride.
Using a high-level access code that she had only used a few times in her life, Jericho exchanged Mariam’s fingerprints for Elizabeth Carmichael’s.
She then exchanged their DNA profiles. The woman in the morgue was officially Mariam Reynolds, First Lady of the United States.
“Time to call the Chief of Police,” Calvin said.
Jericho shared her food and hot coffee with Calvin as they listened to Chief Crane’s rant on the speakerphone.
“Why does everything always turn to shit when it storms?” the chief growled. “Are you certain it’s Mariam Reynolds?”
“Absolutely positive,” Calvin answered. “I got a match on her DNA and fingerprints. You want me to call anyone else, sir? Notify the White House?”
Calvin winked at Jericho as he took a deep swig of coffee.
“No, no. I’ll take it from here,” Crane said. “Thanks for calling. Oh, and thank you for going into the office today. That is true dedication.”
Calvin pushed the button to end the call and grinned at Jericho. “This is the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.” He took another sip as Jericho began putting her layers of clothing back on. “Where are you going, Captain?”
“To get some . . . more of that coffee,” Jericho said, laughing.
“Okay, boss. I’ll stay here and ride herd on this until after her funeral. Then you have to get me out of here.”
“I promise.” Jericho grinned. “You better lock the door behind me.”
##
Walid Farouk passed out the bombs he had made while in hiding. Each one was connected to a device that would be activated by a cell phone call. Instruments of destruction that would soon light up Washington, DC.
“Aym, your sole objective is to take out the president’s lap dog, General Abigail Carson. She and her agents have the ability to foil our plot. They aren’t as bound by stupid laws as others. She will take instant action without waiting for someone’s approval.”
He unrolled the map. Each bomb site was marked by a big red X.
“You know what to do,” Walid instructed his followers. “Nasir, you and Yamen plant bombs here, at each end of the 14th Street Bridge. It’s a major artery between Arlington and DC.
“Josef, you and Anis place your bombs here.” Walid tapped his finger on the Teddy Roosevelt Bridge. “This will shut down 66 East leading into DC from Arlington.
“And you, my friends,”—Walid slipped his arms around the shoulders of the two youngest terrorists—“will have the pleasure of imploding the tunnel on E Street NW that leads to 66 West in Arlington. It’s a small tunnel, but its destruction will cause massive backups.
“The demolition of these bridges will create gridlock in Washington. While the authorities are scurrying about like ants in gasoline, Habib, Karim, and I will eliminate President Tom Reynolds.”
Josef eyed the two bombs that were left. “What will we use those two for?”
“I will personally deploy these two,” Walid growled. “I want to watch my victims leave this world in agony.
“Do you have any questions? You must be very clear on your duties. We will not meet again until we have completed our tasks, so if you have any questions at all, ask them now. If anyone fails, those remaining must take up their duties.”
Everyone agreed that they were clear on the plan.
##
Walid waited for the others to leave before lighting a cigarette, trying to calm his nerves. He wasn’t scared. He was excited. In the next few hours he would obliterate the two women he hated most in the world: Dr. Mecca Storm and the one called Faith.
He was positive the woman named Faith was Mariam Reynolds. When the bay patrol fished a woman from the river and the hospital filed an unknown person’s report with the police, his followers in the police department had notified him immediately.
Just to be safe, he had sent one of his best operatives to kill her in the hospital. Instead, the operative had died and the woman had disappeared. No one seemed to know how the operative’s neck was broken. He had located Faith and watched her. She fit the description of Mariam Reynolds, except for her face. She was also tied to Dr. Mecca Storm, a connection Walid couldn’t figure out. His search of Mecca’s apartment had verified his belief that Faith was cohabitating with Storm. “Lesbians,” he sneered. “They both need to die.”
##
Jericho was surprised at how much deeper the snow had gotten. She had to stop and catch her breath halfway home. Her toes and fingers were freezing. A door opened close to her, and a man walked out. Jericho realized she was in front of a mosque, and it was open. She stepped inside for warmth. She leaned against the wall in the foyer and listened as two men argued inside a nearby room.
Suddenly a door was thrown open, and a man stormed out of the room, cursing in Arabic. A slow smile spread across Jericho’s face. The man was Walid Far
ouk.
Walid slung a backpack over his back and stepped into the blizzard. Jericho followed him. She wondered what would make the terrorist go out on a night like this.
As she followed him, Jericho realized the killer was heading toward Mecca’s apartment building. As Walid increased his pace to a sprint, Jericho had to be careful not to slip and fall.
Two blocks from Mecca’s apartment, Walid hit a patch of ice and went down. He moaned as he struggled to his feet and slid down again. Jericho was standing over him.
“Take my hand,” Jericho said to the man in Arabic.
Walid smiled and allowed Jericho to help him stand. She brushed the snow from the terrorist’s jacket. “Say hi to the virgins for me,” she said, grinning. Then she snapped Walid’s neck.
She looked in his backpack. It contained two live bombs and the items needed to make others. The bombs would be harmless until activated. A Glock, a rolled-up map, and a box of bullets were also in the bag. She tried to unroll the map, but the raging storm threatened to blow it from her hands. She stuffed it into her coat pocket and slipped the bullets and gun into her backpack.
She refastened Walid’s backpack, pulled his arms through the straps, and looked around for the deepest snowbank. She dragged Walid to a three-foot accumulation of snow and struggled to lift him to his feet. Then she shoved him hard and watched as the terrorist disappeared into the sea of whiteness. She knew the storm would dump another three feet of snow on him before it was over. Something primal stirred inside Jericho, and she fought the urge to howl into the darkness of the cold, snowy night.
With her adrenaline pumping, she suddenly felt warm. She had to admit, she’d done a good day’s work. She called Mecca. “I should be home in about fifteen minutes, honey.”
Mecca had fresh coffee waiting for Jericho, but all the blonde wanted to do was make love to her wife. Mecca was a willing partner. Jericho wondered if the thrill of the kill had always excited humans throughout the ages. She wondered if they all celebrated their victories in the arms of their lovers. There was something primitive and wild about her love for Mecca Storm.