The Monroe Decision

by Patrick Clark

  Sarah stopped walking and stood facing Aaron. Her eyes narrowed and the smile had turned to a frown. “Baby, what’s wrong?” she asked.

  “You said someone will contact you soon.” Aaron placed his hands on Sarah’s shoulders. “Sarah, how will they contact you?”

  Sarah’s eyes widened and her mouth opened. “Oh shit, what was I thinking? Aaron, I gave her my cell phone number!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CENTREVILLE, VIRGINIA

  TUESDAY, JUNE 28TH

  11:15 A.M.

  Senior executives at Coleman-Brown wrapped up their morning session and broke for lunch early. The caterer arrived and was setting up in the conference room. Singer retired to his office and stood by the window and watched a storm move toward them from the Blue Ridge Mountains. The sky turned dark and he saw frequent flashes of lighting in the distance.

  The door creaked and Singer turned to see his executive assistant accompanied by the security manager enter the room. “Dave, you’re going to want to watch this,” said Merideth. She picked up the television remote and tuned in to CNN.

  Senator Walsh stopped and faced the cameras, microphones still in front of his face. He raised his index finger and replied, “Let me be clear about this. I did not make an accusation in there. I simply raised a question. There have been a number of unusual events over the last several weeks that have all involved cold-blooded murder and the subsequent release of children assumed to be in a pipeline to join ISIS. I have no knowledge that has been the case for the children. What I do know is this: This administration has assured me we do not have a government agent authorized to conduct targeted killings in Europe against ISIS or anyone else. I have been told by overseas sources I cannot divulge that they believe this killer is an American. So my question is this: If this is an American, shouldn’t we be doing everything we can to bring him to justice?”

  “Senator,” started a reporter from BBC.

  “I have no further comment,” announced the senator as he pushed through the crowd of reporters and walked down the white steps of the Capitol.

  Singer smiled smugly. “He made that up about his sources.” He laughed and strode briskly to his desk where he picked up the remote and turned off the television. “I wish I could believe the senator’s ploy will get this damn Council to act, but I don’t believe they will sanction a hit on their own agent. Shit, if I knew who this ghost was I’d authorize a hit on the guy.”

  “I know who he is,” volunteered Lee Ellsberg, the security manager.

  “What did you say?”

  “I know who the agent is,” replied Ellsberg. “In a past life, I worked for the organization that has evolved to become the Council for Homeland Defense. His name is Aaron Monroe and I taught him how to do his job.”

  Singer clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes, then stabbed his finger toward Ellsberg a few times. “I don’t fucking believe this. You’ve known him all this time and said nothing? If you know where he is, I want you to send a hit team to find him and put a cap in this bastard’s head!”

  “Mr. Singer, if I send a hit team after Monroe, I will just be sending them to their grave.”

  Singer glowered at Ellsberg.

  “Aaron Monroe is the best there is.”

  “Well, if you taught him you should be able to take him!”

  “If I was the man I was twenty years ago, it would be a good fight, but not anymore. You can’t sneak up on him, you can’t use the trust angle. He’ll see right through it. He’s too quick, too agile, too smart, and too prepared. He will always be one step ahead of anyone that goes after him.”

  “Lee Ellsberg.” Singer stepped out from behind his desk. “I pay you handsomely to protect this company’s backside. And when our plan comes to fruition, every national guard and every police force across Europe and America will want to buy the homeland defense commodity we provide. Then you and me and the half-dozen corporate officers of this company can sell our shares and live like kings. So I suggest you find a way to neutralize your protégé.”

  Ellsberg stood with his thumbs in his pockets for a moment, then nodded and said, “Monroe has one vulnerability, sir. Her name is Sarah and I know where she is.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  LONDON, GREAT BRITAIN

  TUESDAY, JUNE 28TH

  5:30 P.M.

  Sarah prepared a delicious Cobb salad. “My Grandma’s recipe,” she told Aaron. They shared that and a bottle of pinot grigio for dinner after a relaxing day at Sarah’s flat. The ringtone on Sarah’s iPhone, the finale from Tchaicovsky’s 1812 Overture, set off and startled them. The phone sat on the kitchen island a few feet from Aaron.

  They glanced at one another and then at the phone. “Are you expecting a call from anyone?”

  Sarah shook her head and answered, “Uh-uh.”

  The verse began a second time.

  “Answer it.”

  “Hello, is this Sarah?” the voice on the phone asked.

  “Who is this? I don’t recognize this number.”

  “This is Aafa. We met near Leicester Square last night. Are you able to talk? Is your husband near you?”

  Sarah looked at Aaron and covered the phone and whispered, “It’s her.”

  Aaron stepped around the island and reached for the phone but Sarah pulled it away and turned away from him.

  “No, Aafa. My husband is not here and I can talk. But tell me, how did you get my name?”

  “My colleague matched your phone to your name. I don’t know how he did that but it’s not important, Sarah. I want to invite you to a study group. It will be a chance for you to meet others that share similar stories as yours. Would you like to come?”

  Sarah turned back toward Aaron. His arms were crossed over his chest. “Yes. Yes, I would like to come to this meeting.”

  Aaron stepped closer to Sarah and she shook her head.

  “That is wonderful news. The meeting is tonight at eight at the community center in Walthamstow. Do you know where that is?”

  “I will find it,” replied Sarah.

  “Good. You will not regret it. This will be a wonderful, perhaps even an enlightening, experience for you,” Aafa said. “I will see you there.”

  “Yes, Aafa. I will see you there.”

  The phone disconnected and Sarah set it down on the counter.

  “What the hell was that all about?” asked Aaron. He had one hand on his hip and the other placed on the counter.

  Sarah sat on a barstool seat at the kitchen island with her back to the island and faced Aaron. “That was the girl I met last night. She invited me to a meeting tonight and said it will be an opportunity to meet other women in similar circumstances as mine.”

  “This is going too fast. I’m not comfortable.”

  Sarah leaned forward with her elbows on the arms of the chair. “Aaron, you didn’t think we went too fast in Barcelona, or in Paris. How is this any different?”

  “The difference,” said Aaron as he sat on the barstool next to her, “is that this time we aren’t the aggressors. Sarah, they’re coming after you. If they used your number to get your name, they probably know a lot more about you.” Aaron reached over and took her hands in his.

  She pulled her hands away from Aaron and folded them together in her lap.

  “I’m afraid for you, honey,” continued Aaron. “I’m afraid you’re getting sucked into my problem and I’m afraid that it’s getting very dangerous.”

  “So what do you want to do?” Sarah asked as her phone vibrated. On the screen was a Twitter message from someone using the account name @myisisbrother. The message read, “I can help you with transportation to Syria.” Sarah stared at the message without speaking.

  Aaron hopped off of the stool and asked, “What’s the matter?”

  “Look at the Twitter message on the screen.”

  He picked up the phone and read the screen then turned his gaze toward her. “This has gone too far! I can’t let you go to that me
eting.”

  “But now I have to go to this meeting tonight baby, and I need you be there with me.”

  “That’s too dangerous.”

  “Aaron, don’t you see? It’s too dangerous not to go. If they know things about me, then we have to find out who these people are.” She leaned in close and leaned her head on Aaron’s chest. “We have to get to them before they can get to us.”

  * * *

  Aaron loaded a nine-round clip in both of his Sig Sauers and packed them and an additional six clips in his backpack before they stepped out of Sarah’s flat and walked to the Earl’s Court station. A man with a crew cut, athletic build, and loose fitting jacket stood a few feet away from them and when Aaron caught him looking at Sarah out of the corner of his eye, he quickly turned his gaze forward and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, withdrew one, and lit it.

  The ride on the underground was crowded and Aaron stood with a one-handed grip on the pivoted grab handles while Sarah was able to find a seat near where he stood. When they changed trains at Kings Cross station, Aaron noticed the same man enter the next car and position himself where he had a clear view of where Sarah and he were seated.

  Aaron leaned close to Sarah and said, “I think someone is following us.”

  “Who?”

  “Relax, don’t look around. I have my eye on him. He’s the guy with the crew cut in the next car. I just need you to be aware in case he makes a move.”

  They exited the train at Walthamstow and Aaron took Sarah’s hand and caused her to walk slowly as he kept his watch on the stranger with the crew cut. As they walked on the platform toward the exit, Aaron saw the stranger look over his shoulder toward Sarah one more time. Then he disappeared into the crowd as they climbed the stairs to the street above.

  “Well, false alarm?” Sarah asked. “It looks like he can’t wait to get out of here and go home to his dinner.”

  Aaron had a lot of experience tailing subjects. One very common method used by intelligence services and police is to employ multiple tails. One operative tails the subject for a time, then hands off to a second operative so the subject of the tail doesn’t see the same operative too many times. He also knew a location with a crowd like a metro station was a perfect place for the handoff. Aaron scanned the sea of faces and noticed three people who stood at different locations throughout the station that took an interest in Sarah as she walked past.

  “Might have been,” replied Aaron, “but I can’t be sure. We need to stay on our toes.”

  “Kinda jumpy, are we?” teased Sarah.

  “Honey, this is serious. I don’t like that the Council has all but disavowed me. I don’t like that someone else clipped the Paris recruiter and I don’t like that there are likely ISIS operatives in London that may know who you are. There are too many things happening that I am not in control of and yes, that makes me feel edgy.”

  Sarah’s shoulders slumped and her head tilted to one side.

  “Sarah, you can’t be complacent. That will get you killed. Look me in the eye and tell me you understand that,” Aaron demanded.

  Sarah nodded again and then put her arms around Aaron and held him tight.

  Aaron now faced in the direction of the underground station they had come from and he saw one of the three strangers that piqued his interest back at the station. He took hold of Sarah’s hand. “We gotta go.” They walked to the next corner, then turned left toward the Wathamstow community center.

  The center was nestled in a tight residential area with narrow brick roads and sidewalks.

  Sarah took a deep breath and turned toward the community center as Aaron said, “Be careful. I’ll be nearby.”

  She nodded and walked off.

  Aaron stepped into an alley and pulled an ankle holster and one Sig Sauer out of his backpack and holstered up.

  * * *

  Sarah wore a conservative, below-the-knee skirt and pullover tunic. She entered the community center through a heavy wood double door. The light was dim and the aroma of musk and sandalwood from the bakhoor incense permeated the room. There were eight rows of folding chairs arranged in front of a small platform. Less than a quarter of the seats were occupied.

  A middle-aged woman who wore a heavy, floor-length skirt, a long sleeve button shirt, and a hijab was on the platform and she spoke in a spirited voice about the decadence of the West, particularly America and Great Britain.

  “The children of these countries are easy prey for the sins of the flesh. Naked women, and men, are in the movies, and on the Internet, on billboards, everywhere!” she shouted as she raised her fist toward the audience.

  Sarah noticed Aafa seated in an aisle seat on the fourth row so she moved in and sat two rows behind her.

  The speaker continued to rage on. “There are Muslims all across Europe and in America who accept this. They stay silent about the coalition led by the Great Satan that kills the Muslims of the Islamic State. We are not weak like those Muslims! We are true believers! We will not be silent! We are here to please Allah!”

  The community center doors were halfway down a brick layered driveway. Aaron sat indoors near the front window of a village pub where he could see the driveway and the arched opening that led to the doors but he could not actually see them. He ordered a pint of London Pride ale and waited with his attention primarily focused on the archway. A few more women entered the center and none exited. After thirty minutes, he ordered a second pint of ale.

  * * *

  Aaron tapped his fingers on the table as he waited, and waited. The BBC broadcast on the television behind the bar turned to international news and Aaron noticed the marquee under the video read: U.S. Senator fears rogue agent on the loose in Europe.

  He turned and read the captions as the segment played. Finally, a photo of Senator Walsh appeared on the screen and the caption read: If this is an American, shouldn’t we be doing everything we can to bring him to justice?

  “You fucking gotta be kidding me,” Aaron mumbled softly.

  Several men walked by on the narrow sidewalk and Aaron scrutinized their every move. An old woman pushed a green shopping cart slowly past the pub. Two more men followed that seemed to be focused on Aaron. As they approached, he slipped his hand into his backpack and placed his hand around the pistol grip of his second M11 and flicked off the safety.

  The two men stopped directly in front of Aaron and he waited for them to make a move. They turned and entered the bar to shouts of recognition from the other patrons.

  Fuck. Aaron breathed a sigh of relief.

  * * *

  Aafa turned around and Sarah made eye contact with her and she smiled.

  The speaker continued her rage against the West. “I have courageous friends that are ISIS fighters. I follow them on Facebook. They are from London, from Birmingham, from Manchester. They have forsaken the decadence of the West and Allah has forgiven them because now they live the life of the jihad.”

  The ISIS radical went on for over forty-five minutes. When she stopped, Aafa sat next to Sarah. “The soldiers she speaks of are very brave, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, I suppose they are,” Sarah answered.

  “How brave are you Sarah?” asked Aafa. “You can control your life. You can leave your husband and you can join the fight. It will be up to you, Sarah. A man whose name is Gaze Haddad will call you.” Aafa stood and walked out of the center.

  Sarah scanned the center and there were about a dozen women still seated. The radical speaker stood at the front of the room in an animated discussion with two young women. Sarah stood and headed to the exit.

  * * *

  Aaron continued to drum his fingers on the table as he scanned the area, always coming back to the alley that led to the community center. He felt his heart pounding. She’s been in there too long. I don’t even know if there’s a goddamn back door to that place. I can’t believe I let her go in there without even that basic knowledge. Fuck! I’m off my game. Have been ever sinc
e I leveled with her after Venice! He drummed his fingers a little harder and his foot shook nervously. I have to end this.

  He placed fifteen euro on the table and strode into the alley where the community center entrance was located. He pulled his Sig Sauer out of his backpack and chambered a round.

  Several women turned the corner and Aaron saw Sarah was among them so he turned and slipped behind a hedgerow at the end of the alley. He made eye contact with Sarah and he nodded as she kept walking away from the center. Aaron put the gun back in his backpack and followed. A few minutes later the women separated and walked in different directions. Aaron followed Sarah for about ten minutes and was satisfied she was not followed. Then he ran ahead of her through an alley and a side street until he knew he was in front of her and waited for her at a corner two blocks from the Walthamstow station.

  Aaron stepped out in front of her at the corner and when she saw him, Sarah marched over and threw her arms around him.

  “Oh my god, Aaron, I was scared shitless!”

  Aaron hugged her tight and replied, “I was getting worried.” She raised her head and Aaron saw her eyes had watered up.

  “These people are very dangerous!”

  They stood in a tight embrace on the corner and Aaron said, “I’m glad you’re alright.” They held onto each other tightly and quietly for a few moments then Aaron told her, “We have to stop this operation and go back home. I have to turn myself in to the Council and I have to straighten things out. I think the Council might be after me.”

  * * *

  As they walked up the steps at the exit of Earl’s Court station, Aaron scanned the crowd and looked for signs someone might still be following them. A man with a leather satchel hung over his shoulder stood near the top of the center railing with a magazine in his hand. He quickly diverted his gaze when Aaron made eye contact with him. Aaron nudged Sarah to the far right of the stairs and they turned right onto Earl’s Court Road.

  Aaron needed a delay to look for any telltale signs of a surveillance handoff. A few blocks down on the opposite side of the road was the Just Italian Café. “Are you hungry?” Aaron asked. “I haven’t had a bite to eat since early this afternoon.”