“There’s nothing in this place to make presentable. You are the only person I know who goes on vacation and stays in a villa that no one else would ever, ever consider renting.” Max ranted, touring the downstairs of the villa with widespread arms.
“I like it; it suits me just fine,” Jordan declared as he pulled out a skillet and began cooking the ham. He grabbed a bowl from the shelf next to the sink and cracked the eggs to begin the omelet.
“Let me bring you up to speed on why I’m here and what we need you to do.” Max began.
He silently chuckled to himself. Jordan always loved when he could get to Max. They had a love/hate relationship. He’d never met anyone quite like Max before. Smart, probably bordering on brilliant, but not brainy. Max was a strong leader, but not overbearing, and usually willing to listen to another’s point of view. But, Max always had your back. A maverick, willing to get into someone’s face if they were feeding too much BS in the process, Max had chewed enough people up and spit them out that most people within the Operations group knew not to mess with Max.
In another place, another time, Jordan probably could have fallen in love with Max. She was attractive, athletic of build, with shoulder length auburn hair, a killer smile and the personality to hold him in check when he needed to be. They had worked together for almost a decade, in all parts of the world and Jordan felt they had mutual respect for one another. There had been many a time when he thought he wanted more of a relationship with Max, but he’d never discussed it with her and never had he attempted anything romantic or sexual on any of the assignments when they had been together.
He didn’t want the complication; he didn’t want the complexity of balancing a romance with a working relationship. Jordan wasn’t sure it could have a happy ending.
“Where did you go?” Max asked standing right in front of him.
“I went down to the old monastery where they chant Mass.”
“No Jordan, just now, you were a million miles away, deep in thought about something.”
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking. And, no I’m not going to tell you!”
With that, he pulled the ham from the skillet and cut it into three pieces and placed it on the plates. He removed the omelets and placed one next to each piece of ham. Grabbing the plates he walked over to the table.
He yelled for William to come in and join them. Max gave him a look.
“I really don’t think anyone will attack us here. If they wanted me dead, you would have found me that way. Let’s enjoy breakfast out on the terrace.”
William came in and began to sit down. “Where’s the coffee?”
Max laughed, “Jordan doesn’t drink coffee and he doesn’t offer to make it. My guess is you are out of luck to find any within the villa.”
Jordan shrugged his shoulders and gave the “that’s the way it is” look to William.
“All right, Max. What’s going on? Why did you need to travel all the way over here to talk with me?”
“Something big is going on, we think.”
“You think?” Jordan got ready to start his typical rant; but, before he could start, Max cut him off.
“Jordan — just shut up and listen. I know we had promised to give you some time off and I hate like hell to have to interrupt your simple, devoted life here in Italy; but, you’re needed. I need you. Let me walk you through what we have so far and then we can have the discussion on whether this was important enough to interrupt your sabbatical.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Several days ago, a man of middle eastern descent walked into the FBI office in Philadelphia. He asked for protection and began to tell an incredible story. Most of what he told us, we haven’t been able to verify yet. However, it does fit with some other intelligence we have, including some specific hunches and insight provided by others.”
“Hunches. You came over here on hunches?” Jordan started to get up from the table, ready to end the conversation.
“Jordan,” Max said as she grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his seat. “They were your hunches. The thinking you have shared with us about long term cells in urban areas of the US.”
“Really?” Jordan allowed his eyes to bore right into her’s. He recalled the briefing he’d done eighteen months ago to a room full of CIA, DHS and FBI analysts. He’d outlined the scenarios in which immigrants could have been planted in the USA in the late eighties, to sow the seeds for terror cells to be used ten to twenty years later. As Jordan had speculated, these original immigrants might not be the terrorists. They would be model citizens, drawing no suspicion to them. However, their children would be raised to eventually take the role of launching terror attacks within America’s borders.
On that day, almost every analyst had scoffed at the idea. They said it was impractical, couldn’t be coordinated for the long term, the infrastructure needed would be too easy to identify and American intelligence and law enforcement would find such persons before they could do any harm. Jordan had almost quit that day. He felt everyone had their head in the sand and no one was willing to consider something that didn’t fit into his or her view of how terrorists operated. It was the most frustrating thing in the world, to Jordan. Everyone was always underestimating the intelligence of the terrorist leadership. Now, he also had Gerhardt’s validation that the theory had been utilized and more than likely been carried out.
“Jordan, can we get back to our discussion?’
“Huh, oh sure. I’m sorry”
“I know you were thinking about your presentation and the reception this idea received. So, yes, it looks like you were right, and that’s why I’m here and that’s why the Director gave us his plane to get here. It’s not just me who wants you back to work on this; the Director demands it. Jordan. We were wrong. You were right. But, we need to stop it. Can we get into the details of what we know?”
“Sure. Tell me what you have, so far,” Jordan stated with a quick shrug of his shoulders.
Max went on to explain how this individual made claims and provided information on how he’d been coerced by his government to leave his village to attend a meeting in the capital. During the middle of the week, they were quietly moved out of their hotel and taken to what seemed like a military base. They later came to discover the hotel they had been staying in had been destroyed by fire and each of them had been identified as a casualty of the blaze. In essence, they no longer existed. They then went through years of training, including English language classes, courses on American business, history and culture. They were paired up with a member of the opposite sex from within the program, and eventually given children to raise.
Over time, each of these “families” immigrated and, eventually settled in the Philadelphia area. They would socialize on a regular basis, to allow the children to get to know one another; and, over time, the children were indoctrinated into the beliefs in which their parents had been trained to instruct them and began to believe America was evil and they were those destined to right the wrongs of their people. The families were under the guidance of one man, who made all of the critical decisions. He would decide who would work where, the house each family would live in, what car they would drive. He also provided a monthly stipend to each family, in addition to the wages they were earning. He also assured that no one achieved a lifestyle that might give them too much freedom or bring undo attention to their family.
“So, why did he come in?” Jordan inquired, somewhat bored with the resuscitation of his own research.
“I’m getting to that.”
Jordan moved his hands in a circular motion like a football referee wanting to move things along.
“He grew disillusioned when his wife was taken ill with cancer. She could have been cured with treatment available; but it would have been quite costly. The leader of the families would not agree to cover the cost of the procedures and medicines. He felt it would cause questions to be asked of how the family had the means to afford such treatment.
The man was devastated he was not even allowed to use the savings his family had accumulated. So, he began to question his whole role in the operation. As you pointed out, Jordan, for some of these operatives, given a taste of America over time, they may grow more attached to the United States and begin to believe in the dream of the USA versus being soldiers of destruction for their former homeland.”
She continued. “He knew he couldn’t talk with anyone else in the group of families. He didn’t believe anyone else was feeling the way he was and would be willing to risk escape. He knew the boy who had been placed as their son had bought into his future role and was actually being groomed as one of the leaders.” Max paused to let Jordan absorb what she’d said. He nodded for her to continue.
“He agonized for weeks over what he should do. He received a call from the leader, stating he was going to take the children on a retreat, without the parents, during their next school break. This was not unusual and was happening more and more often, now that the children were older and the time was growing closer to when they would be activated. Our informant decided this was the time that he could disappear. It would be several days before he would be missed and he had an assistant in the store he owned, who was used to taking over when he’d go away.
“After the son left, our man took his car and drove over to New Jersey and took the PATCO train back into Philadelphia. After disembarking at Market Street, he headed to the Federal Building and showed up at the FBI.”
“So, where is he now?” Jordan inquired
“Well, luckily one of the agents in Philly had been an analyst at the time of your presentation. When talking to this man, he couldn’t believe how the man’s story paralleled your presentation. He called a fellow agent, who was in the anti-terrorism squad, who had also been present during your discussion. Let me just say they were able to set off alarm bells. This man was quickly taken to DC by chopper, and he’s now in a safe house in Virginia.”
“So, what do you need from me?”
Max let out a big sigh. “You know, Jordan, you can have the attitude of ‘if you would have just listened to me’ or you can jump into what could be the biggest terrorism case in US history. The other fact I forgot to mention is that this wasn’t the only group being trained at the same time. There could be others in the US or Europe, for all we know.”
“I see,” said Jordan.
“You know, there are times I could just slug you. You get so stubborn and on your high horse.” Max began to shout. “This is just the beginning! We have nothing but this man. We haven’t stopped anything and when they find out he’s gone, they just might move their timetable up! We have to have our best minds on this and that means you!”
Jordan sighed, “Okay. Okay. What’s the plan? You know I’m in.”
“You need to come back with us. We’ll head directly to D.C. You will have full access to this man. If we can get additional information out of him, we may be able to determine their targets and timeline. We just don’t have enough yet and I’m afraid the FBI might be scaring this man into regretting he came forward. You have a way of getting through to people. They open up to you; for some reason, which I’ll never understand, they seem to trust you.”
Jordan smirked at her when she made her last comment. “Maybe because I treat them with respect and don’t start with the threats right off the bat. Let me pack my things. I can be ready in ten minutes.”
William offered to secure the house and limped around, closing the external shutters. Jordan was soon downstairs with his large duffle bag and was ready to head out the door.
“We’ll have someone come out and take care of the car and landlord,” Max stated as they piled into the car.
As they started out the drive, Jordan yelled, “Stop the car!” and bounded out the door and back to the house. He emerged a minute later, juggling five bottles of olive oil in his arms.
“This stuff is incredible; I can’t leave it!” Jordan said as Max gave him an incredulous look. “Hey! I don’t want to insult the farmer and set back Italian/American relations. Besides, I brought extra to share with the two of you.”
“In that case, just get in the car,” Max pleaded. “We’ve got a plane to catch.”
Chapter Eight
FBI SAFE HOUSE, TWENTY-SEVEN MILES FROM WASHINGTON, D.C.
Akmed Aryanpur was alone in the room to which they had brought him after the meetings at what he believed was the FBI Headquarters in D.C. They had traveled twenty minutes from there to this house, and he’d no idea exactly where he was.
He was questioning his actions. Had he done the right thing? Akmed imagined he would have been treated more as a hero, but he felt like they didn’t believe him and had hinted they thought he was some kind of agent sent, not to help, but rather to throw them off.
Maybe he should have gone with the other option he’d pondered and just disappeared; this was a big county. He could of headed West and found a place to start a new life. They probably would have looked for him for a while, but not forever. His son had grown to the point where Akmed was no longer the key influence, which was now being provided by Mustafa. They would be suspicious for a while and be on guard for surveillance, for anyone trying to infiltrate the group or approaching the children but, they would not find anything amiss and would soon go back to their normal routine.
His struggle had started several years ago, when he was allowed to buy his hardware store. He found much satisfaction and success in building his business. He was much more successful in the USA than he’d ever been in his old country. While he was only able to keep a portion of what he earned the payments were greatly in excess of what Mustafa had given him to purchase the business. It didn’t take him long to figure out that, if he’d gotten a loan from the bank, it would have been paid off and he would have been enjoying a nice income. The family would not have to live above the store, but could have a real home with a yard, a house out in the suburbs. Aziz could be in a better school, enjoying a great education, which would allow him even greater success. But, fate would have it that he was going to be used for “the greater good” and his life would be destroyed in the mission he’d been raised to undertake.
As time had gone on, Akmed had come to find America not the evil, hate mongering land he’d been told it was, but, rather, truly a land of great opportunity.
When his wife became ill and the doctors laid out the only treatment plan that could possibly save her, he’d pleaded with Mustafa for assistance.
“They are treating you as a fool,” Mustafa scolded him. “Do not listen to their lies. Her fate lays with Allah, not this doctor who only wishes to grow rich off of your pain and suffering. Our money is needed for our cause, which will rid the earth of this scum and show America for what it really is.”
Akmed was beside himself. Where was the compassion that the Prophet Mohammed had taught? He ventured to the Public Library, the only place they were allowed to go outside of the community, without prior permission. There, they had Internet access and, while it was prohibited, Akmed always found a few minutes away from his family, to utilize it. He didn’t use the pool of machines in the central area, but, rather, an obscure kiosk located on the third floor, back in a corner. He spent a lot of time researching the illness of his wife and he discovered that, while her prognosis was not good, the treatment the doctors had laid out had produced positive results in others. In addition he discovered she was a good candidate for this type of treatment.
Chapter Nine
Jordan found traveling on the Gulftstream 500 to his satisfaction. He had a large leather covered chair in the middle of the plane. Max was in the back, on the phone, and William was up front, so Jordan had his privacy. The galley was stocked with all the food and drink anyone could want and the entertainment center had every movie or television series he could imagine. The flight went by too quickly for him.
As they approached Andrews, he re-hooked his seat belt and stowed the entertainment system. He raised th
e shade and looked out the window. They had just come across land and he searched for a landmark to tell him how close they were and what direction they were coming in from. He couldn’t find anything that looked familiar and they still had considerable altitude; so, it was hard to pick something out on the ground.
Max had moved up to the seat beside him wearing a freshly pressed suit that spoke she was all business. “How was the flight?”
“I could get used to this. This is one nice perk, Max.”
“Well, don’t think I get to use this anytime I want. I should be thanking you; you’re the reason I got the plane. They wanted you here as quickly as possible.”
“Well, then you’re welcome and I’ll make sure I’m always remote when you need me, so you can pick me up in this baby”
“Don’t go rock star on me, Jordan. This isn’t about you; it’s about the mission. We had to get you back, to get you involved. When we land, we hit the ground running. The clock is already ticking on this and we’ve got to figure out what is going on as quickly as we can.”
“Okay — okay. So, tell me what are we doing first?”
“When we land, we will be greeted by senior FBI and CIA terrorism experts who have been sifting through the evidence, so far. They will brief us as we drive out to the safe house where they are holding the man who came into the Philly office.”
Jordan nodded. He hated these briefings, hearing interpretations from intelligence guys who had never been in the field running an operation. They always thought they had the answer, based on what had happened in the past. They didn’t realize these terrorist groups didn’t pay attention to the past and never did it the same way twice. For the bad guys, each mission was new and different; and, since most, if not all of them, would lose their lives in whatever action they had planned, there was no sharing after the fact. No debrief, no lessons learned, no after action report. When were we going to learn?
Enemy Among Us-A Jordan Wright Thriller Page 4