Hellfire (Sisters In Law Book 2)

by John Ellsworth

  "Hussein. He made me jump out of his car."

  Christine stopped. Her mind reeled back, back to Ankara and the night in the hotel.

  "You're not talking about the Hussein I met--"

  "Yes, he found me. It's horrible what we did. We bought fertilizer and explosives and detonation cord and--"

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa. You did this? Or Hussein?"

  "We both did."

  "Why? That's a big damn bang you're putting together. What the hell?"

  Tears began streaming down the young woman's face.

  "I was angry. It made me crazy to lose all my family. I hated America. I wanted to sue America. And I wanted to explode a bomb and kill Americans. Oh, oh, oh!"

  "Where is the bomb now? Please, stop crying and talk to me!'

  "The bomb is in the white van. Hussein has it somewhere. I don't know where it is today."

  "When is he going to detonate the bomb?"

  "The - the anniversary of what would have been my wedding day."

  "You're sure of that?"

  "Yes."

  "So tell me exactly why he made you jump out of the car today."

  "Just because I told him."

  "Told him what?"

  "I told him I didn't want to do the bomb. American people are good to me. The American people aren't like the American military."

  "So what happened with Hussein? What did he say and what did you say?"

  "He told me someone would hurt me if I didn't go ahead and explode it."

  "Who would hurt you?"

  "Other people. Muslims."

  "So you told him no more bomb and he threatened you with bodily harm?"

  "Yes."

  "Have you told anyone else about this?"

  "No."

  "Where is the bomb going to go? Does this have anything to do with the grade school blueprints we found?"

  Sevi's mouth worked but no sound came out. Then, "How--how--"

  "When you gave Jamie the thumb drive you must have accidentally copied the blueprints onto the drive. Jamie gave them to me and I went to the grade school. Is that where the bomb goes, the grade school?"

  "Yes."

  "When? Tell me exactly when, the date and time."

  "It is going to be one year after my family died."

  "October."

  "Yes. That day. At the grade school."

  "Why that day?"

  "That was to be my wedding day one year ago. It was because of the irony."

  "Hussein and you decided it would be ironic to explode the bomb on what would have been your first wedding anniversary?"

  "Yes."

  "And whose idea was that? His?"

  "Both. I thought it was good too."

  "Now. Tell me Hussein's address. Where does he live, where does he go? Does he work? What kind of vehicle does he drive? License numbers?"

  "Christine, slow down, please. I can give you all that."

  "Go ahead. I'm waiting."

  "He lives on the South Side. We kept the bomb van in a fenced lot there. In a garage by itself."

  "Can you take me there?"

  "Y-y-yes."

  "Then let's go. We must go now."

  "All right. But I need my other cane. He has my good one."

  "Where is it? I'll get it for you."

  "In my closet. Just inside, below the switch."

  "Wait here."

  Christine took the stairs two at a time and returned with the cane.

  "Let's go. Let me help you up. Easy, easy."

  "Thank you."

  "Now, grip my arm and use the cane on the bad knee. Don't worry, I can support you."

  "Your arm is as good as a cane."

  "Let's go. Now walk with me."

  Together they went down into the garage and Christine clicked the doors of the Escalade with her keychain. They climbed inside and Christine backed the vehicle out of the garage as the door finished rising.

  It was hot outside; the A/C roared to life.

  "Now direct me."

  "Go up to the corner and go right."

  Twenty-five minutes of driving in heavy Chicago traffic as the city fled work for the weekend.

  "Now slow down, slow down. This is it. Go down along this fence to the corner and go right. The entrance is right there."

  Christine did as instructed.

  "You know the gate code?"

  "Yes, 67723ZZ."

  "All right, here we go."

  Clicking the keypad the gate came open; they passed on through.

  "Up two rows and then go left, down three rows."

  Christine followed the route and took a final left.

  "Number 447-A."

  She stopped at the indicated storage garage.

  "Now what?"

  "Now we need a key to open the lock."

  "Do you have the key?"

  "Yes, I have one and he has one."

  "Give me the key, please."

  Sevi handed over her keychain and pointed out the padlock key. Christine jumped out and opened the lock and in one motion raised the door.

  They looked inside.

  Empty.

  "This is where the van is kept? You're positive?"

  "Absolutely positive. I put it here myself."

  "All right. Now think back, how did you leave it with Hussein?"

  "Leave it? How did I leave it? He told me they would hurt me if I tried to back out."

  "So he thinks you're still in on it with him?"

  "Yes."

  "Even after he threw you out?"

  "It's not unusual for a Muslim man to make his wife walk. Or worse. He knows I'll still be there for him."

  "Wait, wife? Did you marry this guy?"

  "No. That's just my example."

  "Okay. Good."

  "So he thinks you're still with him. I want you to call him on your cell. Call him and tell him you're sorry. Make him think you still want to help with the bomb. Can you do that?"

  "Yes. I've been lying for almost a year now. I'm getting good at it."

  "All right. Call him, now."

  Sevi pulled out her cell and punched Hussein's name. It began beeping to get through.

  "Put it on speaker, please."

  She did as she was told.

  "Hussein? It's Sevi. I'm sorry, Hussein!"

  "You should be. That was stupid and unforgivable."

  "Did you tell anyone about me? Are they coming after me?"

  "Not yet. I'm meeting with my group tonight."

  "Your cell?"

  Silence. Then, "We don't call it that. The stupid newspapers call it that. We're all just friends of Allah."

  "Please don't hate me."

  "I don't hate you. Sometimes I just don't understand you. The evil Americans deserve to die. Do we still agree?"

  "Yes, we agree."

  "They are infidels and idolaters. They worship money and flesh. They hate Allah. They hate the Quran. They hate you and they hate me. They killed your family. They killed my wife. They deserve to die! Many of them must die!"

  "When are we going to do it?"

  Silence again. "Are you alone?"

  "Yes. You know that."

  "We must meet. Come to my house tonight. Ten o'clock, after my meeting. We will discuss it. I need to see your face and judge you."

  "All right. But I'm hurt. It hurt when you made me jump."

  "No excuses. Come anyway."

  "I will."

  The phone went dead as he clicked off.

  "Well?" Christine said. "What about meeting him?"

  Sevi shrugged. "Of course I will. It is too late for me to back out. We will fool him. He will kill me in the end, but he must be stopped."

  "Exactly my thoughts. But he won't kill you. I won't let that happen."

  "Really?"

  "All right, let's go home and make our plans for tonight. You won't be there alone."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'm going with you."

  "But then he will know."


  "Not to worry. He'll never see me."

  "What is your plan?"

  "Let's go talk."

  Christine was already backing away from the garage. Then she put it in DRIVE and sped away to the gate and back to the highway.

  "He has the van," Sevi moaned as they pulled into the traffic.

  "Yes, he does."

  "Allah, Allah, Allah."

  35

  The United States Attorney for the Northern District of Illinois wasn't surprised when the charging documents showed up on her desk. All she had to do was give the okay, and warrants would issue. After all, classified documents had gone missing.

  The United States' Attorney's name was Racquel MacAdams and she was a rising star on the Democratic front around Cook County and the collar counties. She attended all party events--official and unofficial--appeared at fairs and beauty contests, helped serve roast pig at the summer Democratic festival in Grant Park, and waged war against the mob and the non-mob alike. She personally had shaken the hands of all attendees at the most recent Chicago Bar Association convention in the SRO-only hotel auditorium along the Loop. She was a fixture and a mainstay among federal officials in the city, and she was a no-nonsense prosecutor.

  So who was this Christine Susmann, she wondered as she flipped through the charging documents. She studied the attached one-sheet. Susmann was an attorney on the East Side, a notable among the supporters of the Shedd Aquarium, a decorated war hero, and a mother of two. Her husband had been murdered less than two years ago and yes, she evidently had hired one Althea Berenson to infiltrate Blackguard, Inc. and steal documents. At least that was the crime charged. Coupled with a second count of conspiracy to commit theft and a third count of conspiracy to illegally obtain government documents, the woman was firmly tagged in the crosshairs of Racquel and her hit men. They were savage prosecutors, poised to tear into the lawyer, and all they needed was Racquel's signature on the memo giving the felony team the go-ahead.

  MacAdams sighed and leaned back in her chair, absently scratching her chin with the Montblanc pen her father had gifted to her upon her appointment to her current position.

  "So tell me, Gerry, why are we so determined to go after her when Judge LaJordia's already ruled in her favor? Isn't the damage already done? How does my prosecuting her undo that damage?"

  Gerry Alexander Smits pulled at his red necktie and smiled at his boss. Smits was the chief felony prosecutor on the government agency side. He prosecuted crimes committed against the United States, as opposed to those crimes committed against private individuals and private corporations. Others prosecuted the latter within the U.S. Attorney's Office.

  "Blackguard wants its documents returned. I want the documents returned. They're classified, many of them, and their theft greatly jeopardizes the CIA and military."

  "What are the documents taken by Miss Berenson?"

  "Battle plans. Airstrikes. Black ops. Crap that we don't want floating to the surface of the Blackguard cesspool."

  MacAdams nodded. "I fully understand. Well, what about just asking for their return? Can't we strike a deal before we actually prosecute? Give it a try first?"

  Smits snorted. He was still choking on his boss's naiveté at times. She never failed to amaze him when she would think out loud.

  "Not at all. We must arrest them and hold them while we execute search warrants so the evidence isn't destroyed or, worse, moved. It's computer files, easily moved hither and yon. I don't trust either of these women and neither does our employer, Uncle Sam."

  "Sure. That makes sense. Well...all right. Here."

  She signed the prosecution memo and Smits gathered the yellow sheet and interleaved it into the file. He stood to go.

  "I'll get the marshals right on this," he told his boss.

  "Yes, you do that. And Gerry, for the love of God, let's keep the lid on this. We don't want Blackguard looking like the dumbest sons of bitches on earth for hiring the enemy to work for them, do we." It was rhetorical and not a question.

  Gerry nodded. He would see to it that the press was blindsided.

  "Gerry. Hold up. I want dailies on this. Understand me?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Dailies it shall be."

  "And move fast. She has millions. She'll probably be out of jail ten minutes after you put her in."

  "We'll get four overnights out of her first."

  "Yeah, you do that."

  "Monday is Labor Day. We'll take her into custody Friday afternoon late. I just checked the court's website and all judges and magistrates are out of town. We can hold her until Tuesday before she sees a judge. That gives us plenty of time to toss her home and office."

  "This one has fangs. Don't overstep, you hear me?"

  36

  He lived in a one-story walkup above a mechanic's garage. The place smelled of gasoline and automobile exhaust at all hours of the night and day. But it was cheap and anonymous in the center of South Chicago and no one would think to look for him there. Among many dark skins he fit right in, so it suited him perfectly.

  Hussein answered the door wearing a silk robe and flip-flops.

  "Come in. The air conditioning is out, so be ready."

  Sevi walked by him and he closed the door behind her. She was wearing her backpack slung over one shoulder and took a seat at the kitchen table and removed her laptop from the backpack.

  "I have the blueprints up on my screen. Is this what we will talk about?"

  "Not yet. He took the seat opposite her. She could see he was nude beneath the robe and he made no effort to cover himself. She averted her eyes and tried to stay focused on his face and her computer screen as they spoke.

  "Let me just say again, I am sorry about today."

  He placed both hands down and leaned on his forearms. "That must never happen again. That was a meltdown. Did you lose your nerve?"

  "I am just exhausted. I am working long hours and feeling lonely. You and I no longer meet and satisfy each other. I don't understand why not and I lost my way."

  "Because our sex is unclean. We are unmarried. We should marry and be together."

  She sighed. "I have told you that is not possible until it has been a year. He is still in my heart."

  "Even though I have been in your bed."

  "Even though, yes."

  She touched the pen in her shirt pocket. It had to be clipped properly and pointed directly at Hussein for Christine to receive the audio and picture of the conversation.

  "Why did you do that?" he asked.

  "Do what?"

  "Don't play dumb. What is that pen in your pocket?"

  "Just my pen."

  "Here, let me see it."

  He didn't wait; he reached and jerked the pen from her pocket. Its design was such that the lens was made to repeat the manufacturer's icon. In all respects it appeared to be an ordinary pen. He pulled it apart and hit it against the tabletop, trying to eviscerate any wiring or electronics it might be holding. But nothing came out.

  She reached and jerked her pen away.

  "What is wrong with you, Hussein? Now you don't trust the woman whose family was murdered by the Americans? Is that it?"

  "I don't trust anyone. It's not just you."

  "I went to look at the van today. Where is it?"

  "It's been moved."

  "Is there another storage garage?"

  "Yes. It's many miles from here. After our fight, I moved it."

  "And what of your meeting tonight? What was decided?"

  "It was decided you would be given a second chance. My friends consider you a high-profile public relations individual. Your engagement with the bomb will make Americans know we will no longer tolerate murder. You are a valuable asset and must go with us to the end."

  "You have come to your senses, you and your friends."

  "That wasn't all. You will be staying here with me from tonight on."

  "That's impossible. All my stuff is at Christine's."

  "You can get new st
uff."

  "But what do I tell her? She's my lawyer!"

  "Tell her you have met a man. Tell her you've moved in with him. She'll understand that."

  Christine had driven and had dropped Sevi a block from Hussein's. Now she waited in her Escalade around the corner from his place. She was following the conversation on her smart phone's screen when Hussein told Sevi she would stay with him from then on. She knew that was going to be make matters more difficult, but not impossible. There would still be opportunities for the two women to meet at Christine's office in the normal process of making the case ready for trial.

  "But I will still go to her office about my case?"

  "Negative. You will meet with her by phone. You have moved to New York. That is what you will tell her. That will explain why you no longer come to her office. I will monitor your conversations."

  "This is because you no longer trust me, Hussein."

  "It has nothing to do with trust. It has only to do with the integrity of the plan. Every precaution must be taken to guarantee its success. I don't trust you or not trust you. This is the same way my friends judge me. They neither trust me nor not trust me. It is all part of our cell."

  "Your cell. There is that word."

  "Cell, cell, cell. Yes, we are a cell. But you will never use that word. And you will never reveal our existence to anyone. If you do, you die. It is that simple. My friends want you to know you are at the end of your rope with them. One more slip and you will join your family in paradise."

  "Understood. I will be careful."

  "Yes. Now, we will make you a bed on the couch."

  "All right. I understand now."

  "Yes, you understand."

  Around the corner, Christine watched as the scene changed and Sevi moved across the room to the couch. The video feed then presented views of blankets and a pillow being arranged on a beige couch.

  She turned the key on the Escalade. It was no longer safe for her to be in the vicinity of Sevi's new life.

  She would just have to leave.

  She turned to man in the passenger's seat.

  "Seen enough?"

  "Yes, Christine. I've got the picture."

  "You know she's being held against her will, then?"

  "Yes. Clearly."

  "At this point, we know there are others. We don't know who they are. We no longer are sure of Sevi and Hussein's roles. Will they plant the bomb, or will the others? The rules of the game have clearly changed since earlier tonight."