by Johnny Jacks
She looked sadly into her coffee cup. “I’ll probably never scream again as long as I live. I want to. But, we…this…can’t happen again, and it’s sad.” Tears threatened to flow.
“Are you baiting me?”
“Just stating facts.” The lawyer in her spoke.
Grayson dropped his head. “Honestly, I’m conflicted. Being with you was marvelous but I feel shame for what we did, you being married and all.”
“Larry was supposed to come on this trip, but he had unexpected business to deal with. We always take an evening out on the town when we travel and I’d already packed my suitcase when his boss called. I didn’t have time to repack. I’ve never been unfaithful.”
“Do I sense an ulterior motive for telling me this?”
“I don’t want you to think I take sexy clothing on solo trips to seduce men.”
“The thought hadn’t crossed my mind.” He smiled, looking her up and down. “I think at least some part of you is a good woman. Liberal and weird, but good.”
She laughed. “We’re certainly on opposite ends of the political spectrum, but there’s really nothing strange about the way I dress in court.”
“Lady, there is something very strange about it.”
“I have fewer social problems and make more money as an unattractive female lawyer. I’m a progressive, a feminist, and I believe women shouldn’t be looked upon as sexual objects, but that’s not totally the reason for the disguise.”
“I’m listening.”
“After passing the bar, I took the opposite approach from college. That venture was short-lived, the law firm not taking me seriously. I was one of their token female lawyers, a pretty face to maneuver into bed. They handed me the less-challenging and least-profitable cases. I’m a quick study. To make money you have to get into the courtroom.”
“I guess I see your point, but you went off the deep end.”
She laughed. “When we relocated from Seattle to Houston, I used what I’d learned. Men take less-attractive women more seriously and other women find them less threatening. As Ugly Shannon, the firm I worked for gave me important and lucrative cases, which I won. Respect followed. I maintained the ruse and shifted it into overdrive. I aspired to big-money cases while I paid off my school loans and bought expensive clothes and jewelry, including those diamonds I wore last night. Once I stashed a sizable amount and my legal reputation was solid, I did what I always wanted to do and joined the ACLU to fight for justice for those disenfranchised by society, enhancing my reputation as a very competent…” she grinned and stared into his eyes, “ugly super-bitch.”
Grayson blanched.
“The next time you talk about a woman in the court hallway, make sure it’s not across from the ladies room.”
“I’m sorry. I was blowing off steam and the name fit at the time.”
“I laughed, took it as a compliment. I did my job well and made a dumb cop angry.”
Grayson chuckled. “It’s amazing how you camouflage that beautiful face, sexy body, and warm, passionate heart. Your secret is safe with me.”
“I know all my secrets are safe with you. Damn you, Grayson.”
“Why do you keep damning me?”
“Because you made me like you. We flawlessly meshed last night, and you made me feel like a perfect woman, a new experience for me. It scares me, and I can’t get past it.” Her voice changed to a whisper. “For a twinkling of time, I was in love.”
“Shannon, I wish I could think of something brilliant to say, but I’m stone cold out of ideas and not a little flattered.”
She reached across the table and took his hand. “I appreciate you more than you will ever know. We’ve pushed all but one elephant out of the room, but I have a flight to catch. They say confession is good for the soul, and my soul feels at peace this morning.”
She retracted her hand, reached in her bag, and pulled out a tube of red lipstick, the same sexy deep-red from the night before. She blotted her lips on the cloth napkin, leaving a perfect imprint of her mouth, and placed it back on the table.
“Okay…what’s the other elephant?”
“Our attraction to each other is palpable. Maybe it’s lust, perhaps something else.” Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. “Whatever the case, we must push it away and never let it back in. We dissolve it. Now.”
He stood with her as she prepared to leave. “Shannon, I don’t know where our separate paths will take us, but it would please me to know that you’re happy. I hope you and Larry are successful in your quest to have a baby.”
She walked around the table, put her arms around his neck, and pulled him down to give him a tight hug and big kiss. “I’m truly sorry about your wife and daughter. An officer I interviewed while looking for dirt on you said they were beautiful and happy, that you were a great husband and father. I saw the intensity of your pain at the cemetery and the encounter with your son. I’m ashamed, too, that I tried to force you to answer that awful question in the Delgado case. It’s unforgivable.”
Grayson’s memory flashed to the funeral. “You were the stranger at the chapel.”
“I wanted to honor your family, but I didn’t want to intrude. How is your son?”
“Still not talking to me and he has some problems, but he’s in good hands. Things will work out for us.”
She smiled and walked away.
Still tasting her lips, Grayson sat down and watched her sexy derriere in tight jeans. She knew he was looking, and it pleased him. It didn’t make sense, but he hoped she would turn and run back to him. When she disappeared, he felt unbounded loneliness for the second time in his life.
He picked up her napkin and, placing his lips where hers had been, kissed it softly to taste her again, carefully folded it, and put it in his winter jacket pocket.
Islamic State of America - 6
Texas State Prison
Year -4
As they walked with Akeem to an isolated part of the prison yard, Carlos saw the looks of concern on his men and offered their gang sign to indicate all was well.
“I am glad you pledged yesterday to become a warrior for Allah and devote your life to his commands,” Akeem said. He studied the tall man before continuing. “First, you have to eject every man from your gang who will not revert to Islam.”
Carlos’ reaction was quick. “Nah, man. Most of my compadres are in this casa del diablo, a few left in Houston. I ain’t giving up my control. Don’t worry. They’ll do what I say.”
“You cannot lead jihad with Allah’s soldiers if they are infested with infidels.”
“Sure, I can,” Murtadha bragged.
Akeem shook his head. “Your gang is a nest of infidels and idolaters, which is the Christian way. If you are to accomplish the important mission we have for you, your followers must submit to Allah, as you have done. Without all of you being pure, you will have no power and cannot say the Shahada.”
“What’s this mission you talk about? I ain’t agreed to no mission.”
Akeem glanced at the Mexican gang. “What did you and these men do to get in here?”
Carlos looked at his men and recalled their legal infractions. “Most for drug dealing, some for rape, others for robbing stores or burglary, and a few for assault, like me and Miguel, or murder. Why?”
“I asked so that I can demonstrate the power of Allah, the power you will have if you revert to Islam and follow the Quran. As a Muslim, Allah commands his people to commit those same acts against infidels and apostates, as they do not follow Allah, so they have no value; they are nothing. That is how we make the enemy weak and take his land, his possessions, and his women as our slaves to bear more children to become Muslims. It is the will of Allah and the teaching of Mohammed—peace be upon him. As a Muslim, the revered Imam Omar will make you the leader of many soldiers, and you can do with the infidels as you wish. Allah commands it.”
Miguel’s eyes widened. “Hermano, brother, I want to be a musulmán and have this p
ower.”
Carlos stood another moment in silent thought then raised his voice in unbridled anger. “If you and this Omar dude already had a mission for me, why didn’t you tell me before now? You’re playing with me, asshole, and I don’t like that! What’s your game, Arab?”
Akeem felt again that he was at the edge of the cliff with this pigheaded man and his vicious temper. It would take a significant shock to drag Carlos away from his small-minded gang mentality. But it must be done so that he could educate the man and bring him to a higher level of rational thought. He breathed deeply and asked Allah to stay his tongue, while he fought to ignore Carlos’ personal insults.
“You have been chosen to be the great and powerful leader of all Southwest Province’s holy warriors, to conduct jihad against the infidels and return this land to Allah under Sharia.”
Carlos’ anger turned to laughter. He looked around the yard. “You don’t have enough soldiers to conquer a whorehouse.” He looked at Miguel. “This Arab plans to conquer this big, powerful country with a handful of men. They dream big, eh Hermano?”
Akeem seethed. Through gritted teeth, he hissed, “Do you want to remain stupid all your life? I know that you can neither read nor write.”
Carlos face turned crimson with shame that boiled into anger. Before his clenched fists reached Akeem, Miguel, a big man himself, jumped in front of him and held him back. “Hermano, not now! Listen to this man.”
“I play no games with you, Carlos Murtadha. I offer you the opportunity to become a thousand times more than you are now or ever will be without me, and you do nothing but insult me. Either you want to become a leader of many men and prove your worth as a descendant of Mohammed—peace be upon him—or leave this prison to go back to your miserable and insignificant gang life in Houston and remain a nobody.”
“Listen to him, Hermano,” Miguel begged. “Akeem will teach us to read and write. It doesn’t matter which language.” Carlos seethed with rage and pushed against Miguel.
Akeem spoke quickly. “You think we are few. What you do not know is that there are over four million Muslims in America ready to support us.”
Carlos registered that Miguel had never restrained him from taking action until now. Maybe it was time to listen to his little brother. “Suéltame, Hermano, let go of me, brother!”
Seeing the fire in Carlos’ eyes diminish, Miguel stepped back to his side.
“Quatro milliones son muchos, four million are many. But the gringos are hundreds of millions.”
“You must trust me, Carlos. Imam Omar, a holy man and our revered leader, has a secret plan to return America to Allah and make them Islamic states with Sharia for all, as pleases Allah. He is coordinating activities to revert many Mexican brothers for jihad, brothers that you will command. When finished in this hellhole, we will meet Imam Omar in Monterrey, Mexico where he will explain his plan to us. Until then, if you want to learn to read and write, learn about history, mathematics, and science, I will teach you. But only if you truly give yourself to Allah and learn his law, as given to us by his messenger, Mohammed—peace be upon him.”
Miguel shocked Carlos. “Hermano, I’m going to become a Muslim and become educated. You do as you wish.”
Unaccustomed to Miguel countering his actions, Carlos released himself from his anger to think about what was happening. His thoughts slipped to the spellbinding musical tones of Akeem and his father’s prayers. He imagined the peace he would have when Allah gave him the authority to do what he wanted with the despised gringos.
He visualized himself a hero returning the lands stolen by the gringos to Mexico. Intoxicating images of power and control and great glory became a reality. It snaked through his dark, empty soul. He sensed his life begin to take on purpose. As Mohammed’s descendant, he would save the world for Allah; for the first time in his life, he would be contented and sleep through every night.
Chapter 21
Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow
Year 1
A few weeks later, Grayson met Chief Ramirez at the Watering Hole to report on the conference in Vegas. “Two Heinekens, barkeep. Bottles. Not cans.”
Russell Conrad’s hands shook when he took the beers to the men. “Hey, no hard feelings about that there trial thing. Don’t want you guys mad at me.” Conrad squeaked a shaky laugh.
Grayson’s expression didn’t change. “Forget it.” He ignored Conrad, turned to Ramirez, and handed him a thumb drive. “Thanks for meeting me here, Chief. The soft version of the policy and procedures are on here. I’ll give you the paper version as soon as I dig it out of my computer bag.” Grayson held his bottle up for a toast.
They clinked bottles. “Always available for you, son. Let’s give the report a rest and socialize for a while. You amaze me, remembering I prefer Heineken bottles to cans.”
“How could I forget? Remember that clandestine trip you arranged for me to Amsterdam to see Margaret? I’d just completed a rough mission, almost bought the farm. You sent me on a military flight as a courier with classified documents to deliver to the U.S. Embassy.”
“I remember how you took a big chance to repay me. The penalty for bringing alcohol into an Islamic country is severe.”
Grayson grinned. “The C-130 pilot didn’t want me to board with the Heineken. so I took it into a bathroom stall in the terminal, packed my clothes around the bottles so they didn’t rattle or break, pulled a few special supplies from my duffle bag, resealed the case, wrapped it in plain brown paper, and stamped it in red, ‘Top Secret Scientific Instruments.’ I used my courier credentials to get past airport security in Baghdad. That made it my problem, not the pilot’s.”
“You’ve got balls, Grayson.”
“The pilot shook his head in disbelief when I arrived back at the C-130 with the classified package.”
“Sergeant, I’ve dropped you guys from 20,000 feet over dangerous targets in the middle of the night more times than I can count. Fear weighs heavy on my soul wondering how many of you made it back alive. Bring your Top Secret package onboard.”
Ramirez’s face went dark. “My son was killed by a Taliban sniper a month prior. Your A-team medics delivered the bottles to me packed in a tub of ice. ‘For medicinal purposes, sir,’ one of them told me. It helped to ease the pain, Grayson, but I never thanked you.”
“You’ve thanked me in more ways than I can ever count, sir.”
Ramirez’s mood morphed back into a more cheerful state. “I’ve told that story more than a few times. It’ll be better now that I know how you pulled it off.”
“You were ready to retire from the Army to become Houston’s Chief of Police. I got my reward when you offered to hire me as a detective if I finished my masters.”
Ramirez took a hefty draw and ordered two more. “I offered you the job because you were qualified, and I needed you. But what’s the real reason you invited me to have a beer tonight?”
Grayson took a long pull before replying. “You told me to relax after the conference and do some thinking. I took your advice and spent a few days roaming around Death Valley, slept under the stars. It helped clear my mind and…well…I’ve made a decision to go in a different direction. I’m not sure which direction, but I know I can’t continue to live in the past.”
Ramirez looked over the top of his glasses at Grayson. “You know how decades of dealing with many different personalities gives you a certain feeling when you’re not getting the full story? Spit it out, soldier!”
“Well, sir, I had an encounter at the conference that woke me up. In less than a year, I’ve lost my family, my job, and my trust in myself. I’ve had my ass kicked. It’s time I regained control of my life, become more proactive.”
Ramirez smiled. “An encounter, huh?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Let’s save it for another day.”
“Where do you go from here?”
“I’ll turn in my resignation next week and work at the range while you search for my
replacement.”
“Mark can take care of the range. Set your timing to suit yourself.”
“Sir, there are no words to expresses how much it’s meant to me to serve under you in the Army and as a lawman. You’ve been an outstanding mentor, and I’m beholden to you for life.”
“Which I hope will be a long time for both of us.”
Grayson nodded. “And, there’s something else.”
Ramirez released a belly laugh. “There always is something else with you.”
“Why did you become a prepper and how long have you been one?”
“I’ve been a prepper since retiring from the Army. When I ran into Mark, we began to talk economics, and one thing led to another.”
“How did he get into prepping?”
“Econ professors with analytical expertise like Mark are the frontlines with knowledge of the impending collapse. He’s a fount of information. He wanted to recruit me and start a prepper group. We’ve talked for hours about the future of this country, and I agree that if our economic, political, and societal systems remain as they are, America will succumb to its national debt and fail, all fed by the welfare state.”
“Things are tough, but doomsday? Certainly, violence in America and race relations—God knows I’ve seen too much—but President Crump’s economic recovery is off to a good start. I find it hard to believe you buy into the idea that a nation as powerful as America will fold. This country has absorbed many heavy blows and is still strong.”
“Once I realized how vulnerable we are, I was onboard. The prepper movement needs capable men like you, Grayson, to step up and prepare to weather the brutal storm headed our way. Heaven help us if we ever elect another socialist like Obama. Those brainwashed progressive bastards will never give up their evil pursuit to convert America into a socialist country, with them as leaders, of course.”
“Men like me?” Grayson’s face went gray. “Murderers, guilt-ridden failures, hate-mongers, jobless bastards who wallow in alcohol and depression? Oh, yeah, the country needs a platoon of men like Grayson Dean.”