Anna eyed him carefully. She noticed his breathing was now coming in quick, almost forced bursts, as if he was having to consciously make the effort to breathe. Was he going to pass out? His body went rigid, and he seemed to be willing himself to remain calm.
Eddie continued, “I don’t know if I even slept that night I was so excited. I got up at three and found an all-night diner to serve me some coffee. Since I was already awake I decided to head on over to the stables a little early. It would give me some time to compose my thoughts and come up with a few additional questions for Aman. When I walked over to the backside of the track I made my way over to Aman’s stable. It took me a little while to walk the distance. Aman paid extra for a separate stable away from all the others. When I made it to his stable the light was already on, and I remember being mad because I was hoping to beat him there. I walked up to the stable. I think the barn door was already open. Then I realized something strange was going on. There was someone grunting inside the stable. It sounded like someone was doing some sort of hard manual labor, which seemed odd to me, so I snuck closer to the door and I peeked around the corner to see what was going on.” Eddie stopped again and his head dropped towards his chest. Another thirty seconds passed, then his head began shaking back and forth. He tried to focus and tell the story.
“What did you see, Mr. Lauren?” Anna asked in a soothing voice.
Eddie Lauren regained his composure as best he could. “Please understand, I’ve never told this story to anyone. It still freaks me out.”
“Go on,” Anna commanded. She wanted the information before he got cold feet.
“Aman’s horse was lying in the middle of the barn. It had slashes and stab wounds all over its body. The animal was covered in its own blood.”
Anna’s stoic face hid the churning motors in her mind as she took in this completely unexpected piece of information. “Did Aman kill his own horse?” Anna proffered the question to him.
“No. One of his stable boys did! The boy was standing over the horse with a huge knife in his hand. The boy just kept on slashing away at the animal even though it was clearly dead. I was about to turn around and leave when Aman showed up and yelled at the boy.”
The story was now getting interesting to Anna. Numerous questions and scenarios raced through her mind as she tried to decipher what this could possibly mean. “Why did you and Aman lie about his horse? The story was that it died from an infection.”
Eddie was flustered, and he involuntarily shivered. “Aman was petrified that if word got out that one of his stable hands murdered a horse he would never be allowed to race in the U.S. again. Honestly, I understood his concern. He was already an outsider at the track, and he fought like hell to get his horse into the race in the first place.” Eddie’s breathing slowed as he finished the difficult story.
“Did you ever get the boy’s name?” Anna asked.
“No, Aman said he was a troubled youth from the streets of Cairo. He wouldn’t divulge anything more than that.”
“So you just kept your mouth shut all these years out of the kindness of your heart?” Anna eyed him skeptically.
Eddie wilted under the glare. “I do receive a small package every few years with a large amount of cash in it. It’s never addressed except with a note that says something to the effect of ‘Thank you for your friendship and your silence. It will always be appreciated,’” Eddie said, reciting it from his memory as best he could.
“How much money does he send you?” Anna asked. Now she was fully engaged in the story.
“Roughly a thousand each time. Sometimes a little more. I really don’t see the harm in what I did,” Eddie replied in a defensive tone.
“Did you help them get rid of the horse’s body?”
“God, no! I stayed as far away from that stable and Aman as I possibly could after that morning. Ignorance is bliss. He called my home the day after the race to thank me for my cooperation. He assured me that I would be rewarded for my assistance in the matter. Oh, I do have a few items you might like to see.” Eddie said it as an afterthought. He reached inside his winter jacket and yanked out a manila envelope.
Anna tensed for a brief second before relaxing again, letting go of the butt of the silenced pistol stashed inside her jacket.
Eddie saw the tense expression on her face and realized the danger he had put himself in. “Shit, sorry.” His hand started shaking as he offered her the eight-by-ten envelope.
Anna took the envelope and tore it open. She pulled out several faded photographs and stared at them in silence. “Did you take these?” Anna asked. She remained outwardly calm as she analyzed the photos.
“Yeah, I took them the Friday night before the race. It was the only group photo I could get Aman to do. I told him I would need one if I was going to publish a follow-up article about him on Sunday, assuming his horse won the race, of course.”
“Do you have the negatives?”
“No, one of Aman’s bodyguards came by a few days after the race and picked up the negatives. Paid me very well for them. I had already developed these two photos. For some reason I wanted to hold on to a couple copies. He doesn’t know they exist. No one does, as a matter of fact.”
Anna studied the small group standing in front of the stable. She stared at Aman, his stoic face overseeing his little entourage. She immediately recognized Aziz A’zami, as well. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground. There was a look of irritation splashed across his face that suggested he did not want to be photographed. There were a few people in the photo whom she assumed were Aman’s bodyguards, and several stable boys sitting on either side of Aziz. Each one of the teenage boys had the same deadly look that Aziz was flashing for the camera.
“Which one of these boys killed Aman’s horse?” Anna asked.
“This one.” Eddie pointed to the smaller boy sitting to the right of Aziz.
Anna continued studying the photograph. The youthful face glaring into the camera’s eye looked eerily familiar to her. She had spent too much time near him, and studied too many photos of him to be anything but absolutely positive about her assessment. She remained silent and reserved, but her finger pointed accusingly at the faded photograph. She traced her fingers over the images of the others in the photo, but continued to come back to the boy. The wild look in the teenager’s eyes looked strikingly familiar to her. She had seen those eyes before. Anna felt like she could see the inner rage boiling behind the vicious stare. The face mocked her, seeming to say that she was too late and that he could not be stopped. The stable boy in the picture, the one who killed Aman’s horse, was Zachariah Hardin, the next President of the United States.
Chapter 44
Naval Observatory, Washington D.C.
Zachariah Hardin paced back and forth across the room while he waited for Aman to finish up his phone call. He was now less than two weeks away from taking the oath of office. Each minute seemed laboriously long as he waited for his moment with destiny. Would it ever get here? He tuned out the feckless conversation Aman was having with the unknown person on the other end of the phone. It concerned arrangements for the numerous parties he would attend immediately after his swearing in. Zach could care less. He had no intention of staying at any of them for very long. He would have major issues to attend to as soon as he became president.
Aman had already taken the important call from their old friend less than an hour earlier. Jamal Mahmud was head of the Secret Service detail for President Gray, and he had officially received permission from his superiors to continue on in his position after the transfer of power. Jamal had asked for special permission to remain in place since he took over the position only two years earlier.
They were now waiting for Jamal to arrive to give them a quick briefing on the transfer of power. Aman closed his phone in annoyance at the same time someone knocked on the massive mahogany doors that sealed off the room.
“Enter!” Zachariah immediately barked the order. He was enjoyi
ng his newfound power.
Jamal strode into the room. His long, muscular frame strained every fiber in his navy blue suit. Jamal made his way towards his two co-conspirators. His toned body and shaved head made him look ten years younger than his real age of forty-three. Zachariah rushed towards him, and Aman pulled his obese body off the couch to greet him. How long had it been since they had last seen Jamal? Zachariah had lost count.
The two agents standing guard outside closed the door behind Jamal. Once the doors slammed shut a grin simultaneously burst across each man’s face. The Brotherhood of the Caliphate’s triumvirate was together again. They embraced each other in the center of the room. The group hug was thirty years in the making. Silent tears appeared on each man’s face for the briefest of moments before being wiped away with joyous smiles. It was like a family reunion after years of separation. Jamal looked at both of them and placed one hand on each of their shoulders before speaking for the first time.
“My brothers, the pieces are in place. Our time has finally come.” They had been separated for so many years that they had nothing to discuss but the specifics of their one mission in life that each had been working on from different angles. They were the ultimate co-conspirators, and had finally succeeded in sneaking inside the heart of their worst enemy.
“Everything went smoothly then?” Aman asked Jamal.
“Yes. I can continue on in my duties. Once the inauguration is finished, the transfer of the keys will occur, and we will be able to unleash our fury,” Jamal said in a hushed tone.
Zachariah grasped Jamal in another huge bear hug. He was unable to contain the years of pent-up feelings that were now flooding out.
“I’m sorry. It has been so long…” Zachariah was overcome with emotion as he sat back down.
They sat in silence and enjoyed each other’s company before Jamal gathered his wits and spoke to his friends. “Our patience has paid off, and now nothing can stop us,” he said with finality.
Chapter 45
Alex sat quietly on the couch in the small cabin in Virginia, sipping bottled water and staring at the two photos side by side on the coffee table in front of him. The ride back from Louisville was unnerving. Anna spent the entire time studying the photo Eddie had given her, and re-reading all the background information they had gathered on Zachariah. She did not speak a word the entire flight.
Now that they were back, Alex finally understood why. She had spent the time composing an argument, and now Alex was the first juror to hear the case. The photo to his left was the one Eddie had given them. The photo to his right was one that Anna pulled from a national magazine that ran an article about Zachariah a few months earlier. The photo from the national magazine showed Zachariah at his graduation ceremony at Yale. Zachariah was huddled in the midst of a group of friends with the sun beating down on them. The sun was casting shadows in all the wrong places, and Zachariah’s face was partially obscured. Anna had touched the photo up as best she could, and now Alex was studying her handy work.
“Well, I can’t be a hundred percent certain, but they sure do look a lot a like. If I had to guess I would say it’s the same person. Aren’t there any photos of Zach from his high school years?”
“No. That in and of itself is highly suspicious. Nothing until his college years. I know that according to his official biography he came to the U.S. at the age of sixteen, so he only had two years of high school education in the U.S. Still, I would think there would at least be a few more photos of him with his new father, or hanging out with friends, or something to that effect. There is nothing though. I ran both photos through some comparison software we have on the system here, and it gives a ninety-five percent probability that these are the same person,” Anna said as she pointed at the two photos.
“So, if this stable boy is Zachariah Hardin that means he arrived in the country illegally. That means the papers Aman produced to Immigration when he supposedly entered the country in 1974 are false.” Alex said. He hesitated before asking the question that should logically come next. “So the incoming president is an illegal alien?” He asked incredulously. It was a lot to swallow.
Anna ignored the question as she continued to think. Why sneak him into the country illegally? If they put together the proper documents a year later to get him into the country, why didn’t they just wait? What was the rush? She guessed it had something to do with Aziz. The fact that he came into the U.S. with Zach raised all sorts of red flags as far as she was concerned. Aziz never wanted to set foot on U.S. soil, and the fact that he arrived with Zach suggests there was a good reason for handling it this particular way.
She finally answered Alex’s question, “Yes, he’s an illegal, but we really have no concrete proof.” She exhaled in frustration. The inauguration was just a week away. She felt tantalizingly close to something, but she could not nail it down. The ringing of the phone interrupted her thought process.
She grabbed the cordless receiver and answered in a brusque tone, “Yes?” Anna listened intently. Her face turned ashen as she pressed the receiver harder to her ear. After a few minutes she hung up and continued staring at the floor of the cabin.
“What’s the problem?” Alex asked softly, sensing the tension.
“Sean Hill is dead. Malcolm is coming out to see us now,” she answered dejectedly before quickly disappearing into the back of the cabin. Alex returned to the photos and the reams of paper regarding Zachariah Hardin that were strewn about the table in front of him. For a second he thought he heard gentle sobbing coming from the back of the cabin before it abruptly ceased.
For the first time he felt the weight of an unknown pressure bearing down on him. Their research was quickly being replaced with real issues that would soon have to be confronted. What seemed like a crazy idea just a few days earlier now possessed a body of evidence mounting in its favor. A villain was appearing out of the midst, but they could not be sure how or what the real danger was. The fact that they could not grasp the full extent of the threat made it seem all the more omnipresent and sinister.
Chapter 46
Allan Gray was sitting up in bed and staring at the headline on the front page of the paper. The article was calling for his resignation despite the fact that he had only a few days left in office. The illegal investigation into Zachariah Hardin was now as big a story as the actual inauguration only days away. He downed the last of his whiskey on the rocks, and then pushed the buzzer for his butler to come in and remove the empty dishes. He did not want his wife to smell the alcohol in the glass. She had been eyeing him suspiciously lately, not trusting him as the front-page headlines grew worse and worse for him. Of course, her instincts were correct, he thought to himself. They almost always were when it came to his habits.
Allan’s own people seemed to be ignoring him. Malcolm, the ungrateful prick, was stonewalling any time he asked him a question about their little investigation. The only solace Allan could take was that Malcolm treated the Senate Committee that called him in to testify even worse. The spectacle was downright hilarious, as Malcolm basically spit in their collective face. He refused to answer any of their questions, and he stormed out halfway through the session before being forced to come back in.
Then the news of the shootout on the freeway and the death of Sean Hill dropped the President into complete despair. There appeared to be nothing left to do. Mr. Hill’s trip to Egypt was their last hope at discovering something, and Malcolm told him that nothing of any use appeared to have come out of the trip. Malcolm then vanished, and Allan could not get him to answer any of his phones. It appeared he had gone into hiding. Allan was sure that Malcolm was probably utilizing a safely valve that no one knew about to use as an escape.
Allan Gray closed his eyes, his head pounding from the stress. The thought of suicide crossed his mind for the first time in his life before being quickly dispelled. Never, he told himself, would he do that to his family. There were still a few more days left. He just hoped Malcolm wa
s working the case, and not vanishing from the face of the earth. It would all be over in less than a week. It was the only thing that kept him going.
Chapter 47
Aman flopped into the back of the limousine, exhausted and ready to get some sleep. Zach climbed in after him dressed in his tuxedo. He was still full of vigor and vitality, despite spending the last several hours hobnobbing and shaking hands with the largest donors to his campaign. The final thank you banquet before the upcoming inauguration was a way to give the party faithful a chance to mingle with the legend himself. The posh affair in the ballroom of the Hilton contained the normal cast of celebrities. Aman was grateful that Zach finally showed restraint and never disappeared into the bathroom with one of the constant stream of starlets who approached him at different intervals throughout the evening. His pending mission seemed to finally accomplish what Aman could not; Zach was finally focused on the task and nothing else.
Zach kicked off his shoes and propped his feet up on the seat in front of him. “Hell of a party, Aman. Those asses probably won’t like me as much in a few days.”
The deliberate understatement annoyed Aman. “Forget about them, Zach. They are cowards. They’re the reason this country is so weak and decrepit. Did you get the itinerary from your publicist earlier today?”
“Yes, it looks fine. Timing this thing should not be a problem. The handover of the codes will be done right after I take the oath of office. When we get to the White House, disappearing for a while should be simple. Then Jamal will prove his worth. Are you still flying to Cairo?” Zach asked with a small amount of trepidation. He was hoping Aman would stay and see it through to the end with them. Zach knew it was foolish and selfish, but he no longer cared.
“Yes. I will leave sometime within the next three days. I’ve purchased tickets on several different flights, just to be safe.” He laid a meaty palm on Zach’s knee and patted it gently like a parent comforting a child. “You don’t need me to finish the job, Zach. Once this is over you will have done something that all the armies of the world over the last thousand years have failed to do. You will single-handedly bring the West to its knees. You will be the Caliphate and the Madhi, all rolled into one. Just follow the escape route Jamal has for you, and you will be able to vanish amidst all the confusion. If you don’t make it, someone else needs to be able to tell the world who you were, and why you did it. Now that Aziz is gone, that task falls to me.”
Agent of Influence: A Thriller Page 32