She was about to send it to her editor. But didn’t. She had the thought she would show it to Isabel, as a way to introduce her to the possibility of how she might get inside Hashim’s head. By sharing her work, she believed it would bring them closer. Because of what Nazir had told her of what the voice said to him in the desert, Dominique believed Isabel was the lawyer she needed to talk to regarding “the girl.” Too much had evolved to deny that she had been led to Isabel. She also knew she needed to be strategic, and didn’t want to approach the question of the girl in a way that might shut Isabel down, if indeed she was the conduit.
She knew Isabel was curious to get her perspective on the experience with Hashim, and that the prosecution needed to fill gaps in their case in order to expand the portrait of this mass murderer. Perhaps, her article was a way in. And maybe it wasn’t meant to be published, but a way to further her bond with Isabel. And so, she sent her a text asking if they might meet again, as there was something she wanted to share.
Dominique was also eager to know what part this “girl,” whoever she was, might be playing in the path unfolding before them.
62
Isabel was sitting at the desk in her makeshift office. She finished reading Dominique’s article, looked up at her, and then read a few sentences she’d highlighted, aloud.
“‘Religious violence rises from a loss of identity and a misguided reading of holy texts. And from restlessness with a God who doesn’t seem to care. This lesser jihad comes from rage at a Western vulgarity that humiliates.’”
“Are you trying to make a case for terrorism? Condoning what Hashim did? Condemning it? Besides Islam, you’ll be taking on the Jews and Christians, and…”
“I’m not defending or attacking anyone. I’m showing the core that extremism comes from. Evil demands we not distance ourselves from it by making them monsters. In order to write about it I need to embrace it.”
“And, do you?”
“I do. But I don’t empathize with it.”
Dominique had mastered the art of neutrality and picking up vulnerabilities in her interviewees. That’s why she was good at her job. Her silences provoked more truth telling than not. She was used to people challenging her points of view. Thrived on it. And, in the judgment and defense that laced Isabel’s words, Dominique got how patronizing Isabel could be, which helped her drill deeper in this character before her.
“It was presumptuous of me to show this to you.”
“I didn’t mean to doubt your patriotism.”
Dominique flashed on the Baghdad debriefing after they were rescued in the desert, when the General had his doubts as to her loyalty.
“Too many see the world in black and white, and project their fear and inadequacy on the Other, when we don’t even know them, or care to. I know that sounds like blasphemy. But it’s important to consider the source. We are not dry bones cast upon the earth, but flesh and blood in search of connection and meaning.”
“You remind me of my sister.”
Dominique picked up subtle warmth in her voice when Isabel spoke of Arama.
Dominique achieved what she’d planned—to touch the heart of another, and lead them through an uneven land, like she’d been led. It was a manipulation in service of a greater good, and she let the space remain open, to discover more about this young lawyer.
“What happened over there?” Isabel asked.
Dominique was silent, knowing it was Isabel’s attempt to shift the conversation.
“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“No, it is,” Dominique said, aware of the importance of sharing more.
“When I got back, I visited mosques. I wanted to be in rooms steeped in their belief, to feel the carpets on my forehead and feet, and hear the call of pray. I wanted to feel what they felt, or get as close to it as I could.”
“Because of what happened in the warehouse?”
“Yes.”
“So, you had a religious experience?”
“That’s too narrow an explanation.”
“What would you call it?”
“I can no longer avert my eyes to things that must be seen.”
“You’re talking to a lawyer who’s based her life in the concrete, provable, immutable world of facts.”
“I know. I also see a questioning mind beyond that concrete world. Perhaps your sister has had an influence on you, as I seem to have, since I remind you of her.”
“You’re clever, Miss Valen.”
“Only in that I thought I would give you a perspective on more than one side of a man. More than the common wisdom.”
“You haven’t shown this to anyone else, have you?”
“Only you.”
And while Dominique realized this wasn’t the perfect time, she knew there might not be another.
“May I ask you a question, Isabel?”
“Go ahead.”
“If I were to ask you about ‘the girl,’ would that mean anything?”
Isabel’s quick intake of breath told Dominique there was more here to unpack.
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“As a lawyer, how would you react to the response you just gave me?”
“I’m not on trial here.”
“No one is. You can trust me.”
Dominique waited. She knew Isabel had something vital to say, and gave her the time and space to say it.
“You seem to have found a way to process what happened to you in the desert, Miss Valen, and have channeled it into examining the core of terrorism.”
Another diversion. But Dominique was no longer willing to play along.
“And you? What have you found in your searching?”
Dominique watched Isabel being thrust into revealing something she seemed no longer able to contain.
“My sister believes in miracles. I don’t. I believe they’re steeped in a manipulative myth that does nothing but placate and anesthetize.”
Dominique saw Isabel grappling with something deeper, and pushed her toward it.
“I happen to agree with you. Is your sister in your life now? Is that why these feelings are so raw?”
“Yes. She’s in my life now,” Isabel said, and turned away.
Dominique could see Isabel was embarrassed. She let the discomfort be. Dominique knew truth would reveal itself in its own way. She saw Isabel stiffen, her head bent back and her gaze went toward the ceiling.
“You need to tell someone what’s going on, Isabel. You can’t keep whatever it is, inside. Believe me, I’ve tried. It doesn’t work.”
There was no sound like what had come into the warehouse, and penetrated Dominique, but what she saw happening to Isabel she knew was creating a space for truth.
“You found something in the warehouse, didn’t you?” Isabel asked.
“How do you know that?”
Isabel turned back to her.
Their eyes locked.
“You can trust me.”
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
Dominique emanated a confidence and love she knew Isabel had been starving for. She saw a vulnerability overwhelm the young woman before her, giving her a glimpse of the young girl she once was—before tragedy struck, and encased her in a fortress of alienation and her own intractable dogma.
Isabel’s voice trembled with these words. “I know someone who claims to be able to activate what lies beneath the desert sand.”
“The girl?”
“Yes.”
Dominique saw Isabel was exhausted, relieved, and terrified to unburden herself of this secret.
Dominique had engendered these confessions in many of those she’d pursued, and questioned in her career ascent. She knew this young woman’s ambition to leave the land of her ancestors had left her tattered roots. It had also brought her here. To this place and appointed time.
The thread being pulled through Dominique’s life now included Isabel, her sister, the girl, and whoever else she wa
s about to find.
63
“You remind me of my mother,” Jhana-Merise said. She was alone with Dominique. Isabel had set up the meeting in her apartment.
“You were five when she died?”
“Yes.”
“You have a strong bond with your father because of it.”
Jhana-Merise smiled.
“Tell me about your mother.”
“To do that I need to tell you about all of us.”
Dominique wasn’t sure where this was going, but she was spellbound in the presence of this young girl who had captivated and terrified a lawyer as brilliant and wounded as Dominique.
Jhana-Merise spoke of the course of their collective souls. She spoke of a time in the desert thousands of years ago. Before history caught up with the search for the tablets. Before anyone knew of their existence.
“We were a violent tribe. We come from violence,” Jhana-Merise said. “We’re responsible for continuing the chain of events that has controlled the world ever since our ancestors took a bone in their hand and realized it was a weapon with the power to kill. But my mother, who was my sister at that time—”
“You’re talking reincarnation.”
“I’m talking the arc of a soul, which is given many lifetimes to comprehend its purpose. She knew our purpose was to hide and protect this tablet.”
“This is an awful lot of esoteric information for one so young.”
“I know,” Jhana-Merise said, her smile disarming.
“You mentioned tablets. Are there more than one?”
“Yes. But we’re responsible for the one in the desert of Mosul.”
“And the others?”
“I believe we’ll know them in time.”
Dominique eased back into the sofa they were sitting on, comforted by this young girl.
Jhana-Merise spoke of how Abd al Hashim, and bin Laden before him, and many before them, were among those who’d been given a chance to transform the world. But they had a different take on what that meant. Others had tried and failed because the world hadn’t reached its tipping point.
“Are we at that point now?”
“I don’t know. But I know what we’ve been brought together to do.”
“Activate the tablet in the desert?”
“Yes.”
“Did your mother talk about all this to you? Is that how you know so much?”
“She made me aware of our history. Of a collective evolution.”
“Collective evolution?”
“Yes. Unus pro omnibus, omnes pro uno.”
Dominique smiled at the intelligence and grace that this young girl possessed.
“Did your mother know you were sisters in a past life?”
“She was the one who told me.”
“And your father?”
“He’s been a protector in many lives. A knight. A nobleman. A king. A commoner.”
“He’s aware of this?”
“He’s fought it most of his life. He’s a humble man. And, yes, he’s aware of this and knows why we’re here.”
Afternoon sunlight scrawled across the maple wood floor like indistinct words, and the scent of roses drifted into the room. Their eyes revealed they were aware the air had become more than it was. And they were becoming more than they had been.
“Isabel said only you can activate the tablet in the desert.”
“That’s not true. The tablets are made of a vibration we all possess. They are a manifestation of our soul contract. We planted the one in the desert, but died before we were able to offer it to the earth. That’s why the stones appeared, as a way-shower. We planted them as well, for we knew we would forget.”
“How do we find that tablet?”
“You go back to where you found the stone.”
“The warehouse?”
“In the catacombs deep under the desert floor you’ll meet that manifestation. We’re each part of a greater soul. Fragments. The vibration in the tablets respond to love. Love that comes from a soul that fools no one, including itself. Love is what placed the tablets. Love is what put that stone in your hand.”
“And caused an errant bomb not to kill us?”
“Yes. That the four of you survived is a manifestation of the love beneath the violence. It’s not the love we’ve been led to believe. That’s what you transformed in the warehouse—like the alchemy that turns base metal to gold. We are base metal, and our souls, threads of gold. This is what crystalized in the warehouse. This is what’s happening to us now.”
64
Through a text from a friend at the FBI, Julian found out that an agent was missing. When he saw the attached photo of Aaron Ajam, he realized he was “Taliq.” Julian would be hard-pressed for a plan to extract Nazir now, as the FBI knew he was the last person to see Ajam alive. Where would Nazir go? Where could he go? Julian was so deep in the shit of this circumstance he poured himself another glass of scotch from a bottle he’d found in the kitchen cupboard of the cottage.
“Why do you drink so much?” Nazir asked, as he entered the room.
Julian glared at him.
“Taliq was an FBI agent. The terrorist cells won’t be the only ones after you now.”
“Why don’t you turn me in, then?”
“Fuck if I know.” He downed the scotch and poured another. “Want one?” he asked, offering the bottle and a glass to Nazir, who ignored the offer.
“What did you see in the warehouse?” Nazir asked.
“Don’t do therapy on me, okay?”
Julian stormed out of the kitchen.
Nazir followed and cornered him against a wall in the living room.
“Back the fuck off, kid.”
The two men stared each other.
“You’re a marked man. And I don’t know that I can protect you.”
“Allah will do what is best.”
“Okay. But for now, you got me.”
65
Jack Dean used his cane to punctuate his arrival as he moved toward Charles Bruton’s office in the Pentagon. Dean was shocked Bruton had asked to meet after all these years, but the truth was, he’d been waiting for this a long time.
“Thanks for coming, Jack,” Bruton said, as Dean entered the office.
Bruton closed the door.
The two men stood there, weighted by betrayal and guilt.
“I owe you an apology, Jack. I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I did. Ruining your career.”
“What was left of it.”
“I put the last nail in that coffin and I’m sorry.”
“Is that why I’m here? For an apology?”
“In part.”
“No thanks.”
He turned to leave.
“Jack. Wait. Please.”
Dean had one hand on the doorknob; the other gripped his cane like a sword.
“What’s the other part?”
“It’s about the tablets. What can you tell me about them?”
“You’re not wanting to make a fool of me again, are you?”
“No, Jack. I’m not.”
“You’ve talked with Paul Ledge,” Dean said.
“Yes.”
Bruton listened as Dean talked of how the stones and the tablets, and all like manifestations, were extensions of a greater truth. He talked of succession into higher consciousness. About the masters who guide us, who have ascended to realms where much is clear, much is merged. But people insist on treating it as a game, and believe the dim light of this world is the only reality.
“Bet you these walls never heard talk like this before,” Dean said. “From the level of the sacred within you. And, yes, even you, Charles, have that light. From the degree to which you’ve opened to it, the vibration imbued within the tablet will respond. Will match the degree of truth within the one who beholds it.”
Bruton looked at him, puzzled.
“I’m no more ‘crazy’ now, Charles, than you believed I was. But you asked me here.”
“We all understand the world from the level we’re at. A child is more capable of accessing the worlds between; they just don’t have the tools to express it. The message in the tablets is protected. A spiritual ‘fail safe,’ if you will. For if there’s no light, no love in the beholder, the words will be mysterious and incomplete.”
“You say this so easy, Jack.”
“I’ve no more tolerance for bullshit, Charles. We know from the minute we’re born why we’re here. Do you think there’s a person alive who believes this is everything? But to look at us one would think that’s all we believe. We’ve convinced ourselves of a lie. You’re not the first or the last to know about this. That’s what I tried to say before you banished me. There are leaders from the West and East who know what’s going on. But they’re too scared to come forward. You can help them. You’re in a position to. You’ve been in that position a long time.”
Dean’s words slammed Bruton against the fear he’d have to walk through one day, and in so doing, leave his comfort.
“Jack. I’m sorry for what I did to you.”
“You can undo it by believing me now.”
“And, what would that look like?”
“You’re going to be asked to arrange passage back to Mosul. I’d find a way to make that happen.”
“For whom and why?”
“For Julian and Dominique. Because they can translate the tablet there.”
Bruton knew it would be dangerous and duplicitous to send Julian and Dominique back into harm’s way. He also knew it needed to be done. Because the president needed to have that information before anyone else.
PART SIX
The Trial
66
Thursday, October 1
After all the considerations and concerns, and knowing there was no way to keep any of this secret, the location of Hashim’s trial would be in D.C. The court was set up blocks away from the Capital building. The National Guard and police presence made it look like a war zone. The network trucks and equipment that crowded the perimeter—creating a moat between the courthouse and the swarms of people—turned it into a circus.
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