Cold Snap

by J. Clayton Rogers

  "What the hell is she—?"

  "Where did you throw away the dolls?" Ari asked.

  "In the—hey, wait. Now I know where I saw that girl. She was a temp—"

  The screen went white-orange-red. Lawson's computer monitor waffled back and forth as the building shook. The blast was accompanied by Ms. Perch's scream in the next room. But that was not the focus of the explosion.

  "Where did you throw away the dolls?" Ari repeated. Lawson had pressed upward on his cane, amazed.

  "In the dumpster."

  The monitor colors readjusted to normal. The surveillance camera had survived, although it was now skewed sideways. The woman had been flung several yards from where they had last seen her. She was stretched out on the blacktop.

  "Justice is served," Ari murmured.

  The blue van hove into view, the skewed camera making it look as if it was arriving from under the earth. Ari was tempted to call Ahmad, but was uncertain if the young man had put Abu Jasim's phone on vibrate mode.

  Three men piled out of the van and ran up to the woman. One of them favored his arms. From a different odd angle a furtive figure ran out from between parked cars and bent down behind the van.

  "Excellent," said Ari.

  "Was this the distraction you were talking about?" Lawson asked.

  "A slight change in plans," Ari grinned. "It happens to the finest generals."

  "I thought you said you were a colonel."

  By the time the men from the van had gathered up the woman, Ahmad had finished his business and was slipping unseen through the nearest row of cars.

  A noise louder than the explosion caused both Ari and Lawson to leap out of their wits.

  "Goddamn fire alarm for the hearing impaired!" Lawson shouted.

  A bellicose voice interrupted the alarm.

  "Exit the building in an orderly fashion. Do not use the East exits!" And then, even more loudly, the building manager bellowed, "GET OUT NOW!"

  "All the fuss comes when everything's over," Lawson complained, holding up his coat. "You mind?"

  Ari helped him with his coat. Taking a peek into the front office, Lawson found his secretary long-gone.

  "Let's go out my usual way," he said to Ari, turning back. "Everything that's going to ignite has already ignited. Besides, I can hear all the screaming over the alarm. My maniac coworkers would end up knocking me down."

  In the small rear hallway they found the door blown off its hinges.

  "Smells like almonds," Lawson said. "Think it was C-4?"

  Thousands of fragments of scorched paper drifted in the air.

  "Beats shredding," said Lawson. "Where's your torture car?"

  "I had a ride."

  When Abu Jasim pulled up, Lawson balked.

  "You want me to ride in a van with Saddam Hussein driving?"

  "He was, by all accounts, a magnificent driver," said Ari, giving Lawson a mild shove as Ahmad slid open the panel door from inside. He sat on the cushioned bench next to Lawson and pulled out his phone, which had been vibrating for some time.

  "We are all right," he told Ben. "We are departing. The frightful spying device is in place. Follow us."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  "Ah yes, I slaughtered my foes by the tens of thousands," Abu Jasim declaimed from behind the steering wheel, taking full advantage of the obvious fact that Lawson was still half-convinced he was the genuine Saddam Hussein. "I crushed the Iranians, pummeled the Kurds, squashed those wormy Kuwaitis. They now all shit in their pants at the mere sound of my name."

  "You didn't mention the Americans," said Lawson with patriotic defensiveness.

  "Ah, the Americans...we shall wait and see."

  "We pounded you good and hard."

  "What's a little pounding? Tomorrow you will be licking our—"

  "Take a right up here," said Ahmad, his eyes focused on his laptop.

  "You dare interrupt?" Abu Jasim bellowed. "How shall I deal with this puny thing from Chicago? Let me see...discretely, as with a garrote? Or shall I simply blow out his—"

  "Chicago's a great town," Ahmad shot back. "And don't forget the right turn."

  "Ha! Chicago! Didn't your beloved team flee Miami, their tight little pants sprinkled with pee?"

  "Right turn," Ari said gruffly from the back of the Sprinter.

  "Yes, Colonel," said Abu Jasim, though not as contritely as Ari would have desired.

  "He calls you 'colonel'?" Lawson said. "Are there many Arabs in the Italian Army?"

  "Plenty. We shipped many of them to Iraq to be part of the Multinational Force. Their hearts are filled with rapine when they see their ancient brethren."

  "Yeah..."

  "The van's about a quarter of a mile ahead," said Ahmad. "They're not moving fast."

  "That is because their female commander is grievously injured. If she were dead, they would not drive so gently."

  "Taking orders from a woman," Abu Jasim huffed. "This must be America!"

  "It's certainly a strange notion," Ari agreed.

  Both Ahmad and Lawson gave him dreary looks.

  "Keep your eye on the computer!" Ari yelled at Ahmad. "And you, driver! Keep your eye on the road!"

  "Yes, Totalitarian Commander in Chief," said Abu Jasim.

  Ari's phone vibrated.

  "Yes, Ben?"

  "I missed that last turn. The light turned red."

  "Why should that stop you?"

  "It turned red before you reached it. Didn't you see that truck coming at you? You almost got T-boned."

  "I will eat later. Catch up with us as soon as possible."

  "Right. But don't forget you have an insurance investigator in the van with you."

  Ari gave Lawson a wary glance. "I'll bear that in mind." He rang off.

  "Where the hell are we?" asked Lawson, leaning forward to see out the side window. "This looks like we're headed for Mechanicsville."

  "We're headed east, is all I know."

  "Towards the beach?" said Abu Jasim brightly.

  "Virginia Beach is a good hundred miles away from here," said Lawson. "You got plenty of gas?"

  "Plenty."

  "Looks from here like your tank's only a quarter full."

  "The light is deceptive."

  "Yes, but it's still light."

  Such reasoning whooshed unnoticed past Abu Jasim, whose subtle talents were limited to money and staying alive.

  Watching the GPS monitor, Ahmad noted the icon representing the cargo van making odd squiggles.

  "They're making sure they aren't followed," he said.

  "Will they pass us in the opposite direction?" Ari asked. "I don't want them to see the Sprinter."

  "I can't predict what they'll do," Ahmad complained.

  "Can you predict what I'll do if you keep showing disrespect to the colonel?" said Abu Jasim, raising a fist.

  "Sort of..." He studied the laptop screen. "I think they're headed for the interstate."

  "Good," said Abu Jasim. "I won't have to keep snubbing these traffic lights."

  When the icon went onto the eastbound ramp off Parham onto I-64, Ari called Ben.

  "You should be able to catch up to us," said Ari, who assumed wide lanes naturally signified an absence of all police authority.

  The cargo van came to the 64/95 merge.

  "Good signal," Ahmad said, "but it starts to peter out after half a mile."

  "I hope you purchased the best device available," said Ari ominously.

  "The best used device," Ahmad coughed.

  "You are too frivolous."

  Abu Jasim howled. "Did you hear that! The colonel called you a queer!"

  "No he didn't!"

  "'Frivolous'? What else could it mean?"

  "Maintain concentration up front!" Ari commanded.

  "But Colonel—!"

  "I did not call him queer. And it wouldn't matter if he was. Don't forget, our great national hero was not beyond buggery."

  "Saddam was a buggerer? On top o
f everything else?"

  "I was speaking of Gilgamesh."

  "Oh...the guy in the school books." Abu Jasim shrugged, as if one could not expect anything but perversity in the classics. "But if I find out this idiot fancies boys, I'll cut his dick off."

  "I prefer old farts with shriveled dicks," said Ahmad. "They pay better."

  "Oh...you..."

  "I know, I'm so dead."

  Lawson grabbed at his face. "Don't make me laugh...it hurts too much."

  "You hear that, the pair of you? If you cannot be serious, think that within the hour we might be dead. Does that sober you? Good. Now, our dicks are all intact. Let's thank Allah and continue our mission."

  "Allah?" said Lawson, his laughter cured.

  "God, Zeus, the Artificer, the Heraclete...whatever."

  "The colonel is known as the Godless One in some circles," Abu Jasim informed him.

  "So someone mentioned at the motel…"

  "Take any mention of the Almighty with a pinch of salt."

  "They're taking 95 South," Ahmad announced, then said, "No, they're backtracking on the Downtown Expressway. This says it's a toll road. Anyone here have spare change?"

  Following Ahmad's instructions, Abu Jasim turned up a short ramp and stopped before an automated toll machine that blocked passage with a robotic gate. The sign above the change bucket said '35¢'.

  A quick search revealed there was not a cent between them.

  "Goddamn one-armed bandit," said Abu Jasim.

  "Just because it's only got one arm—" Lawson began.

  "It is a feeble barrier," Ari interrupted.

  "You can run it," said Lawson, "but the security camera will snap a picture of your license plate. The cops will come after you."

  "And there will be a record of our Quebec license plate?"

  "I didn't notice, but yes, they'll contact Canada."

  Abu Jasim snarled, gunning the engine.

  "Wait!" Ahmad shouted, setting the laptop on the van floor and opening the door. "It's a gold mine out there!"

  Ari turned to the side window and watched as the young man scurried to pick up change off the ground. It seemed many drivers had poor throwing arms and had missed when tossing the toll in the bucket. Ahmad found 35¢ in short order and dropped it in. The barrier rose. He waved at the cars honking behind the Sprinter and hopped back inside.

  "We have to come back!" he asserted. "There must be $20 or more in change laying around out there!"

  "Yes," Ari agreed, watching the coins sparkle on the ground as they pulled away.

  "Where am I going?" Abu Jasim demanded.

  "Straight," said Ahmad, pulling the computer back onto his lap. "There's no need to run that traffic light...that one, see? They're only a quarter mile ahead. We're OK."

  Ari called Ben and gave him the number of the exit they had taken.

  "If you have no change, there's plenty on the ground."

  When he rang off he found Lawson piercing him with his eye. "You going to explain what happened back at the office?"

  "The enemy tried to blow you up."

  "I mean how? You guessed the G.I. Joes held the explosive. That gallery you told me about...the potential targets.... But how? That girl was practically dancing at the entrance. Is that what triggered the bomb? Some kind of motion sensor?"

  "No," said Ahmad without turning around. "I figure it this way. The reason these people are getting killed at work is because their businesses have security cameras. The terrorists plant two biometric pictures in the security systems. One of the target and one of that woman. The one of the target activates the mail bomb, but it doesn't go off until the girl shows up. Then the terrorists tell the victims to give up their 'Scenic Iraq' videos or else."

  "'Scenic Iraq'?" asked the puzzled detective.

  "The colonel will fill you in later, I guess. Hold on..." He pointed at a small turn-off that led to a cobblestone street. "Go that way."

  "Those stones will hurt my van," Abu Jasim protested.

  "Turn!" Ari barked.

  The next instant, they were bouncing up and down on the rough surface.

  "Turn right up here, then make a quick left."

  "Are you going to fill me in?" Lawson asked Ari.

  "While you were in Iraq, did you make a purchase of a tourist video in the Green Zone?"

  "I don't know...maybe." He tapped his head. "The bit of brain that didn't get blown out was badly scrambled. I don't remember everything."

  Ari told him quickly about the DVD, the hidden files, and the method used to track down purchasers.

  "Pretty crafty," said Lawson. "We need to alert—"

  "We discussed this already," Ari cut him short.

  "But we're talking about nuclear material here. It's a whole different ball game. A game I'll lose, but I don't see any way out."

  "Straight up here, turn left on Route 5," Ahmad told his uncle.

  As they passed a boat landing, Ari was startled to see a park across the river. The location of the cat colony, where he had almost lost his life.

  Route 5 boasted a sign designating it as one of Virginia's Scenic Byways. Certainly, within minutes from Richmond they found themselves on a gently curving two-lane road that, in the summer, probably fulfilled anyone's definition of bucolic aesthetics. Ari thought that this, too, must be the subject of a touristic video. But he had had his fill of the countryside, at least for the time being. Detective Carrington and his ambuscade deep in a state forest and Uday Hussein's farmstead hideout had provided all the pastoral diversion he could swallow. But, unless the terrorists were leading them the fifty miles to Williamsburg, he seemed bound once again to a discreet vale in the Virginia countryside.

  "Slow down..." said Ahmad hesitantly.

  "They've turned?"

  "Yes, but there's no road showing on the map. Probably some kind of dirt lane..." He turned to Ari. "You're not going to stick me in the middle of the woods again, are you?"

  "If circumstances dictate, I will stick you in the middle of a pigsty."

  "You owe me humongous big-time, I hope you know that."

  "I will compensate you according to your duties."

  "Yeah, you want to show me a job description?"

  "Your job is to shut up and tell me where to drive!" Abu Jasim interceded.

  "And you—" Ahmad began, then ducked. "Okay! See that dirt road up ahead? There's a mailbox. Turn there."

  "It's almost invisible..."

  Ahmad turned in his seat. "Colonel, there's some real problems with the bombing theory."

  "And what is that?"

  "The bombs wouldn't just go off without something else, like some kind of radio signal. Somebody would have to plant software in the targets' computers that would communicate with the bombs. Wireless access points."

  "But that is simple, my young idiot," Ari said grandly. "The woman worked as a temp at these places. She had entree to the victims' computers. She could have planted the communication...whatever you call them."

  "Okay, so explain why that woman wasn't in the gallery."

  "She wasn't a target, only a trigger."

  "And him..." Ahmad nodded at Lawson. "We didn't see a picture of him in the gallery."

  Ari drew a deep sigh out of his allegedly Assyrian chest. "That, too, is simple, you simple American. He is in the gallery. But the picture is from the time before his grave injury. The computer didn't recognize the handsome devil he once was."

  Lawson glowered, then said: "The girl...her name is Gail Prescott...."

  "How did you find out—"

  "At least that's the name she used as a temp," Lawson interrupted. "I don't usually remember the names of temporary workers, but…"

  "Yes, she is wonderfully attractive," Ari agreed. "In any event, she must have secretly photographed you in your office and planted the picture in your computer, perhaps while you were off meeting with your adjusters.

  "I have a password—"

  "My idiot nephew has proved to me
that such precautions are easily bypassed. The updated image isn't in the gallery because that is an older database."

  "Crap," said Lawson. "Then how many other updated portraits are not showing up in that gallery? People's faces change...sometimes drastically..."

  "Possibly many."

  Ahmad turned back to his computer and gave a little jump.

  "Stop!"

  "Why?"

  "Because they've stopped. Jesus, we're only a few hundred yards from them!"

  Abu Jasim braked. Ari called Ben and gave him detailed directions to their location.

  "Holy Moly, I'm off target," was Ben's response. "Give me ten minutes. Don't start the show without me."

  "I am gratified by the return of your enthusiasm," Ari said before disconnecting.

  "You're some kind of weird fucker, aren't you?"

  Lawson's words were stone dead serious. When Ari looked at him, all trace of the joy of adventure was gone. Beyond the injuries, he had the expression of a man who had been lured into a house of pleasure, only to find himself surrounded by pain and lies. Ari was suddenly not sure he wanted this particular armed man walking behind him.

  "Stop," he ordered Abu Jasim. "We'll wait a moment for Benjamin."

  They were in the middle of a wide field. Remnants of corn stalks missed by the combines stretched out in every direction, like ranks of massacred soldiers.

  "Is there something amiss?" Ari asked Lawson.

  "I'm just looking at you and seeing so many things wrong."

  "I endeavored to save your life."

  "I saved my own life. Maybe by accident, but you saw the result."

  "You are wary of people who seem innocent, but aren't."

  There was a sharp intake of break, then Lawson nodded. "You might say that."

  Both Abu Jasim and Ahmad caught the ominous import of his tone and had turned to look at him.

  "Very well, none of us is innocent, but we are not your enemies," said Ari.

  "Are you enemies of America?"

  "As the occasion arises," Ari admitted.

  "Is this one of those occasions?"

  "It is not."

  "And I'm supposed to trust you?"

  "Trust also depends on the occasion."

  "All right." Lawson propped forward on his cane. "But I'm not having fun, anymore."