“Who are you?” Were they FBI agents, TSA, police or Jamil’s people?
“We are friends of the man you are traveling with today.” She moved a strand of hair behind my ear as if we were old friends.
“Okay,” was all I said. Shit. No plan would ever fit now.
As the line progressed, the couple in front of me reached the yellow line. They stepped forward toward the passport booth, she turned and smiled at me as if we were now friends.
“We will meet you on the other side when you finish. Don’t think about alerting the passport control agent. I read lips and will be watching. Make sure you stay to the left so I can watch what you are saying,” she said.
God, where do they find these people? The couple approached the agent and passed through and as stated they placed themselves on the other end to watch me.
I came forward and handed the agent my passport and boarding pass. He ran it through a machine once then looked at me. He ran it through again then looked again. “There is a problem with your passport. It looks as though you have two of them active.” That answered that question. Somehow, he had another passport produced.
The woman read my lips and could make out what was going on at the booth. I replied, “Yes, I lost the other and had to file for a new one. I thought the other had been deactivated.” Cutting my eyes to her, she nodded, and I could see her lifting her phone to make a call.
The passport control agent ran it once more to no avail. It was again rejected. “I’m sorry, this is above my pay grade. My supervisor will have to override this issue,” he said. He flipped his red light on his booth to indicate he was out of service and typed something into his computer.
So that my monitors knew what was happening, I took action. “Your supervisor is coming to override the problem?” I said.
The woman affirmed that she understood and resumed talking into the phone.
I waited as instructed in front of his booth for the supervisor. The woman seemed now to be texting back and forth, but I did not see Mr. Jamil. When the supervisor arrived, he indicated we needed to have a chat so we could clear up the problem. The woman read his lips and mine and texted away.
The supervisor and a man in a uniform identifying him as a TSA agent instructed me to follow them. We passed through double doors with a swipe of a card and numbers tapped in for access. I was motioned to walk ahead of him down the hall and he directed me to stop for a brief time as we were scanned and we continued forward.
The supervisor stood in front of a single wood door with a large handle, typed in some numbers and then swiped his card. I felt panic start to surge in me as I waited for the door to pop open. Breathing and heart rate speeding up, I was fairly sure I would need to ask for a brown paper bag and possibly a canister of oxygen.
When the door opened, I could not believe my eyes. At the end of the room, Cillian was pacing in front of a bank of monitors with his hands in his pockets and Jackson was seated talking to another man. Adrenaline poured threw me as I flew around the table and Cillian rushed over to meet me. I jumped in his arms.
Tears welling in my eyes were all too ready to spill over. I did everything I could to maintain control.
“H-how did you figure it out?” I asked breathlessly holding onto him for dear life.
A man approached us and spoke urgently. “Dr. Collier, I am Paul Whiter, Department of Homeland Security, and right now I don’t have time for introductions. In this room, you have the FBI, Homeland, TSA, and the State Department. We need to know everything you learned as quickly as you can tell us so we can formulate a plan,” he said. This guy must be way up the food chain if his charcoal-gray suit and yellow tie ensemble indicated his rank.
I sat and relayed in exact detail the events of the last twenty-four hours. Or was it forty-eight hours? I didn’t know. “What I don’t know is which banks or financial institutions in which countries are involved. I don’t have any of the account numbers. All I know is that they have them in numbered accounts in my name and that is why you couldn’t find them. But more importantly, they have Diana, and Jude said there is a plan for a simultaneous attack on three churches.”
“Calm down. We have her and Roselov in custody already. They were booked on the same flight as you and he did a last-minute flight change for an earlier flight. She’s safe. He’s been arrested. I want you to come over here and look at this bank of cameras. Is Mr. Jamil in any of these?” Mr. Whiter asked. “We clocked you as you walked into the airport but he stayed hidden from the cameras.”
My eyes flitted over the screen and scanned the tiled matrix, but I could not find him. “No, but those two are the ones that are my monitors,” I said pointing at the man and woman who waited for me. “Cillian, I think Mr. Jamil was the guy that we met at the auction house that gave you the creeps. But it was so brief.”
“Damn it,” he said. “We may have to send you back out there and wait by the gate, and at boarding pick you up. I don’t know if he is boarding that plane or another and sending those two as his proxy. But either way you are not leaving this country, and we have agents everywhere.”
“Considering the threats he made against Aunt Mary could he be going back to watch over her until I get the money out safely?”
“Not likely,” Cillian answered. “He’d send someone else. I bet he is on another plane and will meet you over there. If he’s watching and sees us stopping you from boarding, he will probably disappear and slip off into oblivion.”
“The first thing we have to do is get those two and check their phones,” a man in a suit with a badge that said TSA on it offered. “If you think there is any inkling of a terror attack we need to move on this now.”
“Hold up, you are getting ahead of yourself. We want to get everyone flipping on each other. Wire her up. Right now, you have no connection to those two except an accidental encounter at the airport. Emma, what we need are the little fish flipping on the bigger fish. We may have them on threats and possible unlawful imprisonment, and that’s a maybe. We want them on kidnapping and intimidation to help them decide to cooperate with us,” Jackson said.
“I like that. Dr. Collier is in a contained area, and no one will know what is happening to those two once they leave the boarding area to enter the plane,” Whiter said.
“How do you know they are on that flight?” I asked although it made perfect sense. Unless someone else was assigned to pick me up on the flight.
“We have been monitoring passport control. When you were acting hinky around them and kept looking their way, we pulled them up from the camera at passport control. We ran their passport and saw they are on the same flight as you. If you choose to help us, you have to go out there and tell them that the passport was a problem. But when you assured passport control that you had made an honest mistake thinking you had lost it, then Immigration let you go. We’ll put a necklace mic on you to capture what is going on, and our agents will be all around. Can you keep it together to do this and get them to make an admission against their interest? We don’t need a confession just some incriminating chatter. If not, then, we yank you out and arrest them on some bogus charge and see what happens. Your choice,” Whiter said.
“I can do this. What about Mr. Jamil? Where is he?” My eyes flew across the monitors again.
“We will keep monitoring based on your description. Here’s the signal. If you see him, pick your hair up and twist it around as if you’re going to put it in a bun then look his way. With your description, we should be able to catch him. I’m having Immigration run passports now from that name and time frame, but nothing has panned out. I’m also running anyone in that area of time with a boarding pass to Luxembourg. We should be able to narrow it,” Whiter said.
“I can do this. I can’t believe I’m doing this and Aunt Mary isn’t here to see me get wired up. Cillian, can you make a video for her of this?” These people must think I’ve lost all my marbles.
“Perhaps when you are watching the video to
authenticate it as a correct representation of what occurred we can let her accompany you,” he said with a wink.
“We will have an agent at the Starbucks. Bright blue hair with a pierced nose. If you need some reassurance or problems come up, tell them you want a coffee and make your way over to her, she will make sure to serve you. But we have people planted all around that will be no more than two seats away from you. If you go to the restroom, an agent will follow you in. Are you truly ready for this?” Whiter asked.
“Yes, I can do this. We need to put an end to this mess. Are you sure Diana is fine?” I asked.
“Positive. We are ready to video. Agent Dennings is putting a necklace around your neck which is a camera and mic. You need to keep it out and center. It will pick up your conversation, and if we feel anything is going wrong, we will come in.
“The plan is that you will hang back for boarding and try to position yourself toward the end of the line. When you come to the boarding agent’s desk, we will stall your two people at the gate for a boarding pass issue. We will have the machines reject their bar codes and tell them we have to issue a new one. We will make sure you three enter last so we can scoop them up on the jetway. That way if their people are watching, they will see you enter the jetway to board. Once in custody, we can then confiscate their phones.
“When you get on the plane, Agent Dennings will already be on board and will appear to be a flight attendant. Follow her down the aisle allowing her to show you to your seat. If you recognize Mr. Jamil touch her shoulder. If he is not on board follow her to the crew area, change clothes and she will show you how to exit the plane,” Whiter said. “We will scan for Mr. Jamil. I have a feeling he will be close.”
“Got it,” I answered. With that, the plain necklace was placed on me, and I exited the room.
As I approached the gate, my monitors advanced toward me. “Quick, come with us. What happened? What did you tell them?” the woman demanded as she grabbed my arm.
“Apparently, I had two passports activated, and they wanted to make certain I was not trying to impersonate someone. The State Department had flagged it because I had just entered the country on one the other day and leaving again needing an expedited pass. After they ran my prints and did a facial recognition check, they voided my other passport and let me go.”
“You remember that if you try anything to screw with us that Diana is still in play as well as your aunt. We can blow that house to smithereens in seconds.” Without a breath between each threat the male monitor warned me.
“I understand your terms. After being kidnapped and now taken across the globe against my will if you think I will put anyone else in danger, think again.” I made sure to face him directly to capture him as he spoke.
“Once you complete your part, you can return to your normal life, and you will never hear from us again. If you try to outwit us and make a move on your own you have no idea how many more of us are here,” the male monitor said thus confirming the allegation of kidnapping.
“Your threats and intimidation are unnecessary. I understand my life and others hang in the balance of me following your directives. Can I please get a coffee and we can sit and wait for the plane? That little chat has my nerves on edge.” I looked over and found the agent at Starbucks who was tracking me.
Studying me for any ulterior motive, the man agreed, and they walked me over to Starbucks. The blue-haired agent saw me and as she waited on us with a happy smile, my nerves were calmed. We took our seats at the gate where I visually monitored the area. Shortly after sitting, a nicely dressed man wheeled his carry-on luggage past us and sat two seats down and across from me. I recognized him as one of the men from the room I just left. Tapping away on his phone as if engrossed in a business matter I noticed his phone tipped our way. To my right, I saw Agent Dennings in her flight attendant suit entering the plane as a part of the flight crew readying the plane for departure. No eye contact was made by either, but they were there for me.
As the time for boarding edged closer, I searched for Mr. Jamil but did not see him. What if he slipped through the net? Would I always be on the run?
As my mind ran through every scenario, I spied a man who looked familiar but different. Dressed in casual pants and a polo shirt his hair cropped close to his head and spiked, sunglasses on his head and no facial hair. I stared at him and he stared back at me daring me to make a move. My God! Did he cut his hair and change his appearance that drastically? Where? When? How? I had to try to get a message to those watching that he had altered his appearance. I leaned back in my chair taking my hair up as if I was putting it in a bun. I softly said to the woman, “Is that Mr. Jamil over there by the window in the black shirt and pants? His hair? What happened to his hair?”
From the corner of my eye, I saw the agent slightly tip his phone and silently take a picture. To anyone else, it appeared as if he was still texting. It was so smooth I would not know it was done except I knew we were working as a team.
She ignored me and continued to read her magazine. I felt confident I had communicated the information I needed to the agents and left it alone.
Mr. Jamil glanced my way with his cold dead eyes. I looked back unafraid. I’m coming for you, motherfucker.
Emma
I WATCHED MR. JAMIL. HE appeared so calm, in charge, deadly. The wait for him to decide when to board was nerve wracking. If the handlers were in charge of me I thought he would board before us.
As we lingered to board last, I saw him stand suddenly and after making eye contact with the monitors he walked away from the gate. He was leaving, actually leaving. Oh my God, so what was the plan? How would the FBI get him now? The agent across from me gave him a few seconds, stood, and then he followed him.
Was he leaving the airport? Did he get spooked? Was he going to give the order to bomb the airport? My mind was going to every dark place I would let it.
The boarding line progressed and we came near the counter, and I felt as if everything would fall apart. What if something was wrong; how could they let me know? What if plans had changed? That feeling of panic was starting to rise. My hands trembled, bile was rising and my heart pounded.
We reached the boarding pass desk and I was the first to present my passport and boarding pass to the agent. The green light flashed go, so I moved ahead and waited.
The next to reach the desk was my female monitor who offered her passport and boarding pass for scanning. Her boarding pass was met with a red light. The agent placed her boarding pass against the glass again, and again it was denied. My monitor was asked to step aside so an agent could walk her to the desk a few feet away and access the computer to verify the problem.
Next, the man stepped up, and the same difficulty arose with the same instructions. An employee introduced herself as a supervisor and invited them to stand by the desk as she determined the problem. I looked at them for instructions and was nonverbally told to wait.
The boarding passes were scanned again at the main desk. The supervisor discovered the problem and advised them the flight was overbooked. Waves of agitation rolled off the woman and unbridled anger off the man. Clearly, one of them was going to blow. Stepping aside, the woman placed the phone to her ear and hitting a speed dial number she waited for an answer then disconnected.
“Damn it, he must be on his flight already,” she said clearly agitated. I hope the microphone caught that so the FBI could divert the flight.
The male tried a call and the same result. After a heated discussion, they determined I should board the plane and they would join me with their new tickets.
“You will have a four-hour layover in Zurich where a gentleman will be waiting for you. In the event we cannot get on the plane, you will have to seek him out. He has your details, but you will need to know what his appearance is as well. Here, look at his picture. Once there, Mr. Jamil should arrive shortly after you from another flight, and he will join you. He and the man will have documents for you to sign s
o that he can access the accounts in Switzerland as your attorney,” the female said.
“This man is a lawyer? What is his name?” I asked. I stood so the necklace camera could capture the picture she held in front of me.
“Yes,” she said. “The lawyer is also our bank contact. You don’t need to know his name.”
“He works for Mr. Jamil and I can trust him?” I asked trying to sound naive.
“Yes,” she said tapping her foot becoming anxious. “What is taking so long? How can they oversell something?” Looking at the man, she said, “I am not comfortable sending her on alone.”
I looked around and noted all the passengers had boarded the plane except for the three of us. The area was now empty.
“Let’s go check again with the agent,” I said struggling to defuse the situation. “By now they should know something.”
As we approached, the agent was finishing her call and smiled brightly at us. “All clear, you are lucky we had some no-shows. I have just issued you your new passes, and you can now proceed to the jetway and board.”
The woman visibly relaxed, and the man took my arm to guide me to the jetway doors.
As we were about to walk through, the agent shouted, “Wait.” All three of us stiffened and stopped. “You forgot your passports. Can’t go anywhere without them.”
Emma
THE FEMALE GAVE ME THE signal to walk ahead of her, and I complied. As we passed through the tube to take us to the plane entrance door two men with badges on their belts stood halfway down the ramp. We advanced, and they stepped forward. As I went by them, they both stepped forward to intercept my monitors and announced, “Nare and Davit Tavitian, you are under arrest.”
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