by Judith Lucci
Omar smiled and said, "He is doing well. No one would suspect him."
Mohammed was silent about Syed's work. "Come, let us move," suggested Mohammed, "the sun is shining directly into my eyes."
After a five-minute walk, the two sat on a bench and watched as the same delivery van stopped near Harrah's Casino and delivered an additional six canisters there and an additional four canisters inside of Harrah's New Orleans Hotel.
Omar gave Mohammed a slight smile and murmured, "Ah, our delivery boy continues to do well."
Mohammed nodded in agreement as Syed returned to his van for more canisters, which he delivered to the Hilton and Hyatt Hotels. Omar checked his watch and said, "We are right on schedule. We timed this well."
As Syed returned once again to his van, Mohammed made a suggestion.
"Brother," he said lazily, stretching his arms over his head, "Let us walk up to the upper French Quarter. I think I would like to see the famous Café du Monde that all the tourists talk about in New Orleans. Perhaps I may try, what is it, a beignet?" Mohammed gave Omar a slight smile, his voice sarcastic. "Who knows, it may be one of the last beignets ever prepared there."
Omar nodded gleefully, "I hope so, brother. We will triumph."
The two Jihad leaders had just settled down with their café au lait and beignets in the green-striped canopied Café du Monde when they spotted Syed walking up the street, whistling happily and stopping to talk with several locals and tourists. He had four canisters loaded on his worker’s dolly. He delivered two canisters to the server behind the counter in the outside café who scribbled his name on the sheet in acceptance. He then continued to Jax Brewery where he deposited the remaining canisters in the food court that was part of the refurbished brewery shopping mall.
Omar and Mohammed drank their coffee silently, their spirits soaring with each canister delivered.
Syed returned and distributed an additional six canisters to six food carts along the route.
Mohammed drank his coffee and dreamt about victory when the vibration of his burn phone startled him. He'd received a text message, which he promptly shared with Omar. His voice was hushed. "The American President will speak at 1 p.m. He will be at the Convention Center. Our timing is perfect, brother. We will move forward as we planned."
Omar could see the spark of anticipation in Mohammed's eyes. He felt gleeful but cautioned himself against feeling successful. He never, what is it the infidels say, 'counted his chickens before they are hatched' or something like that? Omar was way too smart for that. He'd been around the block many times, just as Mohammed had, and both knew the best of plans could be ruined in an instant. Anyway, both were eagerly anticipating the deaths of most of America's political leaders as well as thousands of American infidels. That made Omar the happiest man in the world. Praise to Allah and death to the infidels.
Chapter 44
Alex was tired and worn to a frazzle but optimistic. It was a little after 9 a.m. and she had stayed with her Grand until two in the morning when Robert had returned to the Tulane ICU to sit with her. Alex looked great for someone who'd had a hellish two days. Heeding the advice of her grandmother to 'look your best when you felt your worst' Alex had done her best to dress well for the day. Carla, Martin's wife, had brought over a suitcase full of clothes, and Alex had selected a teal suit with a white silk blouse, gold jewelry and a pair of three-inch high heels, which made her incredible long legs appear even longer. Her highlighted auburn hair was in a casual chignon and she had replaced her purse with a matching silk teal bag. Jack had given her a long, low whistle earlier when she had seen him outside the hospital. Somehow, her grandmother was right. Looking good certainly made you feel good. I will make it through this day and we will prevail. My family will be good.
Alex and Robert were heartened and encouraged by her grandmother's progress. Kathryn's vital signs were stable and her breathing, though labored, was steady and her lungs remained clear thanks to the excellence of the nursing and respiratory care at Tulane. It had made her cry when the nurses turned her grandmother because the pain of her broken shoulder and fractured ribs was excruciating. She cringed when Kathryn, still unconscious for the most part, cried out in pain.
Alex had never known her strong, no-nonsense grandmother to show any emotion but kindness. She had never heard her complain of pain or about anything. It tore her to pieces to see her black and blue from the beating. At any rate, she was hopeful her grandmother would regain consciousness during the day. She knew her grandmother had squeezed her fingers several times during the night when Alex had asked her questions.
As she sat at her desk at the hospital and pondered these questions, Robert entered her office.
"Hey, who's with my grandmother?"
"I left her for a while when your granddad came in to visit. Don't worry, Alex," he reassured her as he saw her face fall, "there's a great nurse taking care of her that I have known forever. Besides, Bridgett called and Angela is off today and has volunteered to go over and stay today with Kathryn as well. She's in the best of hands."
Alex was overjoyed. Angela Richelieu was a top-notch ICU nurse and Bridgett's twin sister. "Oh, wow, that's great. Thanks, Robert. I will have to do something great for Bridgett and Angela when things are calmer. They are both the best. If Grand wakes up, she'll be excited to see Angela."
Robert nodded and Alex continued, "I am so lucky to have such wonderful friends here in New Orleans. They're just the best."
"I've just come from the ED and talked with Yvette. There are currently 33 active cases of the virus at CCMC and 17 people had died since yesterday morning. Yvette reports that most of the victims have died from the virulent lung disease or pneumonia that we still haven't isolated. They're growing new cultures from the most recent victims, so we will hopefully know something this evening.”
Alex shook her head. "Yes, I know. I talked with Yvette several hours ago. She believes the number of cases and deaths are staggering for such a short period of time, particularly in an industrialized area. She also said they were close to an actual identification of the virus and the most recent testing suggested it was a mutating virus."
Robert nodded, "Yeah. That's why it's been so hard to narrow the virus down. Ted Smith and his lab assist, a grad student named Ali Nassir, are developing an anti-viral antidote that may assist us in treating the current patients. Hopefully, they will test it over the weekend on any new cases.”
"That's great news." Alex was so thankful for Robert. Thank God for Robert. He was a wonderful man, friend, and physician. Besides, he was the only person in the world, other than the Congressman, that loved her grandmother as much as she did. Grand had always been a staunch supporter of the handsome surgeon. Kathryn had first known Robert's family, the aristocratic Bonnets of Louisiana, when Robert's father had been the Governor of Louisiana. Now Robert's dad was a United States Senator from Louisiana and she saw both his parents fairly often. Robert's mother and Kathryn Rosseau Lee had worked on several Congressional wives committees and events over the years and Kathryn had been delighted when Alex and Robert had married at the University of Virginia Chapel in Charlottesville a little less than 10 years ago.
Robert gave her a quizzical look. "What are you thinking about? You look like you're in another world. Come back to reality."
Alex grinned at him and said, "I'm thinking about you and our families. How lucky we are to have known each other for so many years!"
"No argument here," Robert agreed. "But I have to rush off. I got a ton of people to see and I want to get back over to Tulane. You OK here?"
"Yeah, I promised Jack I'd meet him in the Quarter after lunch if I could. I think I can since Angela's with Grand, so I'll stop by the hospital before I go meet him. I'll have to change clothes, though. Can't wear this get up."
Robert appraised her beautiful outfit and said, "I agree. You look far too good to be bumming around the Quarter with Jack and his police. As a matter of fact, you look great.
You're always so beautiful." Robert's voice was wistful.
"Stop it, I'm a mess! I haven’t slept in what seems like days. Pretty soon I'm gonna look like Francoise." Alex objected. "Thanks for everything with Grand." Alex trusted Robert with her life and that of her family. She knew he would make the very best decisions for her grandmother and keep her in the loop. She loved him in so many ways. Perhaps they could have dinner again when all of this was over and they could pursue their well, what would you call it, courtship? She smiled at the thought of a courtship with Robert. After all, they had been married for over five years. She stood and said, "Gotta go, Martin's picking me up out front and taking me to the Palm to see Granddad.”
Robert blew her a kiss on the way out. She blew one back. Oh, hell, what am I doing? Is this a big mistake?
As Alex waited for Martin in front of hospital, she reflected on her conversation with her grandfather. She'd meant to discuss it with Robert but time had run out. Adam was devastated and blamed himself for Kathryn's injuries. His depression and self-blame were over-powering and Alex was worried about him. She'd spent at least an hour prevailing upon him to straighten up since they had many challenges in front of them and had reminded him he needed to stay strong for Kathryn. Her heart had broken when her strong, stubborn, famous, and politically powerful grandfather had dissolved into tears.
Martin was quiet as he picked up Alex. He was generally quiet when bad things were happening and he didn't ask any questions other than how her grandparents were.
After Alex gave him a report he looked over at her and said, "Ms. Alex, you shore do look gud today. I don't know how you does it."
He grinned as Alex flashed him a brilliant smile and continued, "I's so sorry my city has treated you so rough this year. I just don't understand why things are so hard for you. I promise you, though, that a new years is a comin' and things will be better. You ain't had nuthin' but bad luck this year."
Alex nodded and said, "Yeah, Martin, I could go for a change in luck. Have you got time to take me a couple of places?"
"Sure. As long as the Congressman don't need me."
Alex groaned inwardly. She was chopped meat when it came to her grandfather. Martin loved the Congressman. "He won't. He's with my grandmother. Can you drop me at Hotel Burgundy for a couple of minutes? I have to pick up some items for Mrs. Blankenship and then I need to go see my grandmother for a little bit and then change clothes and go to the Quarter.”
Martin was surprised. "You goin' to the Quarter with all them bad men and po lice down there? Why?" Catching Alex's look in the mirror he continued, "Shore things, Ms. Alex. We'll be there in five."
The city was eerily quiet and traffic was almost non-existent. It was Saturday morning but generally there was considerable traffic in New Orleans all of the time. This made Alex a bit uneasy. As the big white cab entered the Quarter and drove up to the Hotel Burgundy, Alex was astounded at the numbers of NOPD, National Guard, and other law officials in the Quarter.
"I'll be back in a second, Martin. Wait for me, will you?"
"Of course Ms. Alex. I'll be right here. Them police are too tied up to be messin' with me in a no parking zone today. The President comin' has sure changed this city, ain't it?"
Alex laughed outright and said, "You got that right, things are totally different since all the politicians and the President got here. Just give me a couple of minutes." If you only knew, if you even had a clue you wouldn't believe it, I don't want to believe it, Alex thought to herself as she walked toward the heavy brass doors and opened them. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at Martin and continued holding the door open to help a dark headed, bearded young man wheel a dolly filled with metal canisters into the hotel lobby. Wonder where the doorman is, she thought. Glancing at her watch, she figured he must be on break. It was almost mid-morning. Coffee-break time. As she stood waiting for the elevator, she absently watched as the young man wheeled two canisters into the hotel coffee shop and left the other three in the lobby.
Alex was surprised to see Stoner emerge when the elevator opened in the lobby.
He was equally surprised to see her. He gave her an appreciative glance. "Ms. Destephano, you look wonderful today. How is your grandmother?"
"Agent Stoner, thank you." Alex quipped, "I figured that if this is the last day of my life, I may as well dress up for it."
Stoner didn't smile but said, "Now, it's not that bad. You know the good guys always win, right?"
Alex gave him a dazzling smile and displayed her beautiful white teeth. "Yes, you're right. We do. My grandmother is doing pretty well. My grandfather is with her now but I am going over in a few minutes. I'm picking up a few things for Beth Blankenship. How are things going here?" Over Stoner's shoulder, Alex could see the deliveryman exiting the hotel with his dolly. Was it her imagination or was he rushing out. She turned her full attention back to Stoner.
"OK, so far. We've set up a central command post over at One Shell Square, and there's a second one at Harrah's Hotel on Poydras. We picked the tallest buildings in town. The hotel is over 327 feet tall, and it will give us good surveillance over most of the lower Quarter. Most of our internet surveillance and computer visioning equipment, video surveillance, camera feeds, data analysts and technical personnel will be over at One Shell but Houser, Bodine and I will be over at Harrah's. Jack and Ted will be on the ground."
Alex threw her head back and laughed, "Yeah, for sure. If I know Jack Francoise, he's going to be on the street along with three of his best cops. Don't think you'll see much of him up at Harrah's."
Stoner nodded, "Yeah, you're probably right. Francoise is still a street cop at heart."
"No question, Agent, now you all just get through this day and we'll have a great dinner at my house and you can drink all the wine you want! How's that for inspiration," Alex questioned, giving the tough secret service agent a hug.
"Best offer I've had since the last time you invited me, Alex. I absolutely plan to take you up on it." As Alex gave the straight-laced Stoner a final hug and watched him leave the hotel, she saw the dark blue delivery van ease down the street, the dark haired guy driving carefully, dark sunglasses covering most of his face.
As she exited the elevator, Alex raced for Beth's suite to gather her things. The day was getting away from her. She had to check on her grandmother and meet Jack in the French Quarter by 12:30.
Chapter 45
Syed grinned to himself as he rolled his cart down the cobbled streets of the French Quarter toward his parked van. Now he understood why they called New Orleans 'The Big Easy'. He was astounded by the stupidity of the Americans who worked in the hotels, bars, and places of business he'd visited on his three and one half hour trek through the city. No one had questioned him as a new delivery guy. No one had asked about the metal canisters and no one had even balked at signing the delivery invoices. All in all it had been, what was it they called it, oh yes, a piece of cake, he remembered, proud of his ability to remember colloquial English.
As he reached his van, Syed dug his cell phone out of his pocket and texted Mohammed.
"Done. Instructions?"
Mohammed retrieved his phone, smiled at the text and punched in the word, "Trouble?" with his powerful fingers.
"No, a piece of cake. Now I know why they call this place the Big Easy." Syed wondered if Mohammed understood colloquial English. He figured he did since he'd lived in the United States for many years.
Mohammed raised his eyebrows, showed the text to Omar.
Omar grinned, his long beard bobbing up and down as he spoke, "Well, Syed is a bit more American than we thought, huh brother?"
Mohammed nodded in appreciation, his thick brows arching in delight. "Syed is a good student of Jihad. He understands that he must know his enemies. He will go far. His genius with electronics is invaluable to us. His idea for detonating the canisters was brilliant," Mohammed said as he texted "Return to Nazir's house."
Syed tossed the burn phone in
to a trash bin and proceeded to Nazir's place. He ditched the blue van on the side of the road and decided to walk. He was close and it only took him about 20 minutes to walk. It would have been much longer by car with all the police presence. He did his best to spot all the regular and added security cameras, kept his hood up and his sun glasses on the entire time he walked.
Omar and Mohammed met him outside Nazir's apartment. "Well done, my brother," Omar said, congratulating the Jihadist on his delivery adventure. "We watched you. You gave no questionable behavioral cues. We saw no evidence of any reason for anomaly detection. Your behavior did nothing to raise suspicions. The computers should not pick you up. I am positive you were undetected. Well done."
Mohammed nodded in agreement and continued, "I too must compliment you, Syed. I admire the way you Americanized yourself while performing your tasks. Lighting the cigarette and smoking in the van before delivering the canisters into the Harrah’s Casino and the casino hotel was brilliant as was loitering around the French Market. Smoking at the Convention Center was smart too. You looked just like an American deliveryman. You studied well for your part. You are to be commended and I will make sure that you are."
Syed's dark skin flushed briefly with pleasure. He was happy to have pleased the leaders. He would do anything to win the Holy War and kill the infidels. He simply replied, "It was easy. The Americans are stupid. They are ignorant."
Omar and Mohammed laughed aloud as Syed smiled and flushed again with pleasure.
As they entered the shotgun apartment, Habib, and Ali sat in the living room. They looked at the three laughing Jihadists with a sense of unease and foreboding.