by Nancy Madore
Nadia thought about this. “And the cells who stayed in D.C.?”
“The ones who injected themselves with the virus are dead,” Will said. “Those whose syringes were intercepted are being held and interrogated. But so far, they all claim to have no idea where the syringes came from.”
“Could anyone really be that blindly obedient?” asked Nadia.
Will shrugged. “They believe in the cause. Or they’re protecting their families overseas. Something inside them clicked to make this seem acceptable.”
Nadia shook her head in amazement. “What about the instructors you pulled from the seminar…the ones with the coded lesson plans?”
“They’ve provided us with our only lead,” said Will. “They were all advocates for a pretty reputable P.R. company promoting Muslim awareness. They speak out against all forms of extremism. In fact, the ‘Muslims Against Extremism’ foundation is a subsidiary of theirs.”
“I know them!” exclaimed Nadia. “They do good work.”
“Yes, but what you probably don’t know is that their parent company has ties to an organization that’s connected to a known extremist group out of Pakistan,” said Will. “Those lesson plans were provided by an Islamic training center that is also funded by that group. Somehow, Asmodeous was able to tap into this intricate network and use their cells for his own purposes.”
“How?” asked Nadia.
Will shrugged. “Asmodeous is only one of many factions using these cells for a variety of different agendas.”
“See, it’s not really about defending Allah from the infidels,” said Clive without so much as glancing up from the computer—“Though that’s what the cells who actually do the dirty deeds believe. It’s really about the highest bidder getting their own private army to further their cause.”
This triggered a memory from Nadia’s last conversation with her father. “My father said they were going to do it anyway, so it might as well be for a good cause.”
Will nodded. “Everyone believes their cause is worth killing for.”
Including us, thought Nadia, but she was disturbed by the thought and kept it to herself.
It grew quiet, except for the sound of Clive’s fingers, rapidly clicking over the keyboard. After a while he sighed. “Your father had quite the network going,” he said. “He had his hand in everything.”
“What are you doing with all those messages?” Nadia asked.
“I’m forwarding them to our office,” he said. “First thing they’ll do is run all the addresses through our system. See if anything djinn-like turns up. Then we pass ‘em on to another division that does nothing but investigate terrorist networks online.”
“That sounds time consuming,” remarked Nadia.
“Yep,” said Clive. “It’s going to be a loooong day.”
And he was right. It was a slow, tedious process. He must have forward thousands of messages. Whoever was on the receiving end had their work cut out for them. Nadia wondered about the top secret organization they worked for. Their code name was Raphaelians, after the angel who led the army that ultimately put a stop to the Watchers, permanently trapping them in an ‘abyss’ somewhere beneath the surface of the earth. It was all so medieval, and yet they appeared to have their finger on the pulse of modern-day terrorism. They had somehow found a connection between the past and the present, a kind of Underground Railroad that networked through time.
Hours passed, but Clive didn’t let up. The sound of his relentless tapping on the keyboard was wreaking havoc on Nadia’s nerves. She and Will were sitting in chairs on either side of Clive, watching him work. As she watched, Nadia grew more and more discouraged. It felt like everything was ending—and she couldn’t bear for it to end like this. But each and every website Clive worked his way through felt like another door closing. Hope was quickly giving way to despair. What had she expected? That they would find that ‘smoking gun’ that would somehow vindicate her father?
Nadia took a long, shaky breath.
“Why don’t you take a break,” suggested Will. “We’ll call you if anything significant turns up.”
“Yeah, go on,” agreed Clive. “It’s gotta suck, us going through your dad’s shit like this.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Nadia told him, and she was a little surprised to realize that it was true. “It’s like…” She could feel her face growing warm as she searched for the right words—“…old times.”
Clive laughed. “Yeah, we go way back.”
Nadia was embarrassed. “I only meant…”
“I know what you meant,” said Clive. “And you’re right. A week’s kind of like forever with us. Most of our prisoners don’t survive the first day!”
Will started to object, but Clive cut him off. “You said to cheer her up. What’s more cheer-inspiring than not having your soul extracted? Seriously, name one thing.”
“You don’t have to cheer me up!” objected Nadia. “And it’s not working anyway.”
“That’s gratitude for you,” said Clive.
They may not have been cheering her up exactly, but they were, somehow, helping her work through the pain. And yet it was still very exhausting. “I think I will rest for a while,” she relented, ashamed of her weakness but unable to sit there for another minute, on pins and needles, waiting for something to happen.
She got up and headed for the bedroom she used to occupy when staying with her father. Walking through the once familiar house was a little like floating through a bad dream. She paused outside her father’s bedroom before impulsively opening the door.
The agreeable smell of her father’s cologne assaulted Nadia’s senses, filling her with a poignant combination of painful longing and terrible remorse. She stepped inside the room, feeling like an intruder. This was her father’s—Asmodeous’—private space. Yet in spite of her misgivings, she couldn’t bring herself to walk away.
She inhaled deeply, savoring the powerful little reminder of him. It was all at once pleasing and distressing, familiar and yet unknown, embodying a lifetime of memories that had turned out to be a lie. The simple truth was that the body of Edward Adeire had been little more than a cloak, constructed of flesh and bones, to be worn like a garment. Nadia, who didn’t even like the idea of wearing fur, cringed at the thought.
She inadvertently wandered over to an old leather chair that was sitting next to her father’s bed, and was surprised to recognize it as the very same one that sat in their living-room when she was growing up. It had been her father’s favorite chair. She smiled, thinking what a creature of habit he was, always so prone to tradition. Like the tweed jacket he often wore, which had been neatly folded and placed over the back of the chair. Nadia loved him in it, although it was typically old fashioned, especially for a retired professor. So cliché! Nadia brought the jacket to her face and inhaled deeply.
How I miss you!
Nadia was suddenly distracted from her reverie by a crackling sound inside the jacket. Curious, she inspected it more closely. There was something in the inner breast pocket. It was a small stack of papers that had been folded into thirds. Nadia lifted the papers from the pocket and opened them.
She examined the contents of the first page. It was a contract for a chartered flight. Her heart seemed to stop as she scanned the pertinent details—Fairbanks…Alaska…one way. Searching for a date, she saw that the flight had been scheduled for Wednesday—this Wednesday—the day after tomorrow!
Nadia rushed out to show the document to Will and Clive.
“He had a chartered flight!” she cried, startling the men as she charged into the room. “My father…for Wednesday…to Alaska…one way!”
Will accepted the papers from her. He examined them for a long time before handing them to Clive, who did the same.
Will broke the silence. “Why a private jet?” he wondered out loud.
“He was planning ahead,” said Clive. “If the attack on D.C. had been successful, all the commercial airlines would’ve shut down.
”
“That’s right!” exclaimed Will. “And it’s one way,” he added with meaning.
They both looked at Nadia. “You were supposed to stay with your father for a week…right?” asked Clive. “Starting last Tuesday?”
“Yes,” she replied mechanically. “I remember he was very insistent about it. At first I thought something was wrong…that maybe he was sick. But he said he was worried about me…working too hard…” her voice trailed off.
“It sounds like he wanted to spend some time with you before he left,” Will told her quietly.
“I would’ve been going back today,” she said.
“Giving him two days to tie up any loose ends and get the hell out of Dodge,” concluded Clive. He gave Nadia a sympathetic look. “It looks like you were gonna lose him either way,” he said, and she lowered her eyes, cursing the tears that kept springing forth so readily.
“Why Fairbanks?” wondered Will.
Nadia blinked back her tears and tried to keep her mind on what this latest development might mean. “I’ve never once heard him mention Alaska,” she said, sniffing. “What’s in Fairbanks, anyway?”
“Not much,” Clive replied casually, but his eyes met Will’s as he added meaningfully—“…besides military.”
“Let’s not start jumping to conclusions,” warned Will.
“But now that we’ve found this ticket…” Nadia began hopefully.
“It doesn’t signify anything,” said Will, cutting her off, “except that Asmodeous planned to leave after the D.C. affair. He probably intended to make a fresh start.”
Nadia collapsed into the nearest chair with a little sob.
“I’m sorry Nadia,” said Will.
“Hold up a minute!” said Clive, turning back toward the computer to look through the messages he’d already gone through.
“What are you looking for?” asked Nadia.
“Just never you mind,” replied Clive evasively, scrolling through the messages. “Ah…here it is!” he exclaimed after several minutes of searching.”
“What is it?” asked Nadia.
“Maybe nothing,” said Clive, clicking on the message. “I just happened to notice an ‘AK’ in one of these email addresses. See, it’s from ‘E, dot, Blevins, at, AK, dot, TDMR, dot, mil.’ The ‘AK,’ placed like this, most likely signifies the state of Alaska.”
“And it’s a military address too,” observed Nadia, moving in to take a closer look.
“It was sent to Edward at that research site he belonged to,” said Clive. “He was one of the many academics who monitored the site.”
“The inquiries appear to be coming from military sites all over the world!” exclaimed Nadia.
“Yeah,” said Clive. “That’s what happens when you provide research information for military personnel.”
“That other part of the address must be the division of the military that this ‘E’ Blevins belongs to,” said Will. “Are you familiar with a military outfit by the name of T.D.M.R.?”
“Nope,” said Clive. “But there are plenty of military divisions I’ve never heard of. Look it up.”
Will typed the letters into his phone.
“What is it that you keep referring to on your phone?” asked Nadia. “Is it, like, some kind of magic app that knows everything?”
Clive laughed. “That’s about right!” he said.
“It’s an intelligence app,” said Will. “It’s fairly new, since nine-eleven. Various intelligence ops upload information as it comes available. Restricted stuff. You have to have special clearance to access it….hmph! That’s weird.”
“What?” prompted both Nadia and Clive at the same time.
“T.D.M.R.,” Will replied. “It stands for Tactical Defense Mechanisms Research. It’s listed here, but it says no information can be released at this time.”
“Too top secret even for our top secret app,” mused Clive. “That is weird.”
“This app doesn’t give out information about our organization either,” Will reminded him. “I’ll put in a few discreet inquiries about them.”
“You know what else is weird?” asked Clive. “This message to ‘E’ Blevins was sent a few days before the attack on D.C.”
“Open it,” said Will.
Clive clicked on the message. The subject line read, ‘Check this out,’ but there was no text inside the message.
“Hey, there’s an attachment!” said Clive. He double-clicked on it and a picture appeared on the screen.
“The northern lights!” exclaimed Nadia.
“Okay, we just left weird in the dust,” said Clive.
They all just stared at the picture for several moments. In and of itself, the image was startling and beautiful, depicting a sky that was a kaleidoscope of vibrant color. But from where Nadia was standing, it seemed downright eerie.
“I come all the way from Saudi Arabia,” came a voice that was thick with an Indian accent—“…and this is the welcome I get?”
“Gordon!” exclaimed Nadia.
“Look who decides to show up after the work is done,” grumbled Clive.
Gordon dropped his bag and rushed over to give Nadia a hug. “Were these ruffians manhandling you again?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, blinking back the annoying tears yet again.
“That will come to an end now that I am here,” he assured her in his Indian brogue. “As you, yourself, have pointed out, I am the most civilized of us three.” He smiled at Nadia. “Remember? It was the day after you were kidnapped…in your bedroom.” He winked at her conspiratorially.
Nadia remembered only too well. Desperate, she’d tried buttering up Gordon in the hopes of convincing him to help her escape—to no avail. They both laughed at the incident now, without bothering to explain it to Will or Clive.
“Reeeally!” murmured Clive inquisitively. “Do tell!”
“A gentleman never tells,” replied Gordon. But he became serious as he examined Nadia’s face. “Are you okay?”
“She’s fine,” interjected Clive. “Never better. You give Nancy Drew a mystery to solve and she’s happy.”
Gordon’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve given her a mystery to solve?” he asked, dropping the accent in his surprise.
“Maybe,” said Clive, but then, catching Will’s look, he amended—“Probably not. In fact, no.” He shrugged. “Mostly it’s just a little problem I’m trying to work out.”
Gordon looked sideways at Clive. “What problem are you trying to work out now, Clive?” he asked, “…besides the obvious ones, I mean.”
“Well, for starters, my fingers are arthritic from doing Gordon-work,” he said, raising his fingers as evidence, which were arranged in such a way that they really did appear to be crippled by arthritis. “And I’m exhausted from trying to keep Miss Priss from having a nervous breakdown.” He paused here to add to Will—“That should fall on you.” And turning back to Gordon, he continued—“And on top of all that, I’m trying to figure out why Asmodeous was going to Alaska day after tomorrow. But…wait!” He looked at Nadia and then back at Gordon. “Should we talk about everybody’s feelings first? I don’t want to seem insensitive.”
Gordon turned to Will in surprise. When Will didn’t deny Clive’s claim his eyes grew wide. “Well I’ll be the uncle of a lion-tailed macaque!” he exclaimed in his thickest Indian burr.
Chapter 4
Fort Greely, Alaska
Amanda sighed miserably. She felt indescribably wretched.
She stared at the spread sheet on her desktop, thinking how much she hated her job. This wasn’t how she wanted to spend the best years her life. Working at a military base full of men definitely had its advantages, but sitting alone in a tiny cubicle in the isolated world of data entry was not exactly what she had in mind. And anyway, to her way of thinking, a job was only a temporary solution until she found the man of her dreams. On the best of days it was tedious, but today it seemed unbearable. She yawned; surreptitiously
clicking the Facebook tab to bring up the screen she had hiding behind the Excel sheet. She was falling behind on her work, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Damn Tommy! This was all his fault!
She began perusing that day’s posts.
Really, she replied inwardly to one of the posts, is that the list of things you have to do today? And you thought it was a good idea to tell the world about it…why?
She read through the posts moodily, making derogatory remarks about them in her head as she went. How did people endure such boring existences? She went to her own Facebook page to compare. Now these posts were interesting! For one thing, she always added a picture of herself—people loved that. And for another, she tried to post comments that people could relate to, like that time her idiot hairdresser cut her bangs too short. The expression on her face in that picture was priceless! A smile formed on Amanda’s lips as she scrolled through her posts, and a few times she even laughed out loud—before catching herself (she didn’t want to get caught goofing off at work).
Hearing footsteps, Amanda quickly clicked the Excel tab, making the Facebook page vanish and the dreaded spread sheet reappear. She casually turned her head to see who was coming and snorted. Just that stupid cow, Melanie! She watched Melanie approach, paying special attention to the way her thighs rubbed together when she walked. She and Catherine had had quite a few laughs over that. She smiled at the memory, and Melanie smiled back as she passed Amanda’s work station. Shluff, shluff, shluff. Amanda watched Melanie until she disappeared into her little cubby-hole like a plump bunny rabbit slipping into its den.
Amanda looked around dismally. Where the hell was Tommy? It almost seemed as if he was avoiding her.
She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a picture of her and Tommy. She examined it with a little sigh. They really were the perfect couple. Tommy was attractive—but not quite as attractive as Amanda. And he was five years older, so she would always have the advantage of being the younger woman. He was ambitious, so her lack of ambition would make him feel needed while making her life easier. Perfect, perfect, perfect!