Living Stones

by Lloyd Johnson

  “I had no idea that is how they felt about me or why! Now I understand, Ashley. We can’t be friends anymore?”

  “Oh, no, no, no! You are my friend and always will be, Najid. You saved my life. You are a real gentleman, and one of the nicest men I’ve ever known.”

  Najid gazed silently out the window. Finally he spoke softly. “But can we be friends if your parents don’t approve of me?”

  “I’m a grown woman, Najid, and I will do what I think is best. And you are the best.” She reached out to squeeze his left hand.

  Najid placed his right hand over his heart and nodded his thank you.

  Chapter 22

  Robert enjoyed driving his red Corvette with the top down in the late May warmth, past parks with rhododendrons still in bloom. Nine days after the bombing, it seemed safe. No one would link such a car with jihad. Jenny chatted about her classes as she directed Robert to the church. They had to cross Lake Washington on a floating bridge. She pointed out Mount Rainier to the south, shining white and huge in the morning sun, and Mount Baker far to the north.

  “Our church is in Bellevue.”

  “What’s it like, Jenny?”

  “It’s hard to explain. Do you go to any church?”

  “I went once; you know, for a funeral, with my parents.”

  “Well, you’ll find this quite different.”

  Robert drove on in silence, wondering what he had agreed to do. But strange or not, it would provide good cover. At least it got him out of his room.

  Robert stared at the front of the auditorium as they walked into a row near the back with comfortable-looking upholstered dark seats. But they didn’t sit. Hundreds of people, standing, sang and clapped rhythmically to the music of a band on stage. It had drums, guitars, electric bass, a keyboard, and big speakers, just like any rock concert. The three leaders stood and sang into microphones as everyone followed words to the song projected on large screens on both sides. Jenny sang along. A large empty cross covered the back wall. Wasn’t Jesus supposed to be on it? Then he saw the two flags on either side of the stage: one American, the other Israeli. He shook his head. He didn’t know whether he could handle this.

  Finally after more songs and a prayer, to Robert’s relief, they sat. The pastor stood behind the lectern and told the people to turn in their Bibles to Genesis chapter twelve. Jenny reached for one in the rack in front of them and quickly found the passage. Everyone dropped their heads to read along.

  The text said something about Abram, later called Abraham, and some special blessing of God for him, and even curses for his enemies. All nations would be blessed through Abram.

  The minister closed the Bible and explained that this applied to Israel today since Jews traced their ancestors back to Abram. He moved to a high stool and sat down. He said this special Sunday honored Israel, and that they support Israel because “it heralds the soon return of Jesus.” Robert couldn’t understand how Israel fit with Jesus. Didn’t he start a different religion?

  Pastor Tom Evans shared his compassion and respect for Israel for enduring all its suffering at the hands of the Palestinians, and explained that it fulfills God’s plan for this time in history. “We must support Israel’s survival,” he said. Then he recommended ways to contribute money to Israeli projects. Robert almost walked out, but realized it wouldn’t look good and would upset Jenny.

  Robert seethed inside, trembling as they drove home, but said nothing. Jenny remained quiet for several minutes. Finally she spoke.

  “What did you think, Robert?”

  He couldn’t tell her what he really thought. Would he have to go through this again next Sunday?

  “Is this, like, what you do every Sunday?”

  “No. We are strong supporters of Israel, but you got in on a special Sunday today when we honor them. It happens fairly infrequently.”

  Robert felt nauseated and terribly agitated. His hands shook on the steering wheel.

  “Will you be coming next week?” Jenny added a musical lilt to her question.

  He wondered why women talked that way, high notes and low notes. He liked being with her. But was this worth going through just for trying to cover his tracks? He could stand it for an hour, he supposed. Or maybe he could put up with that stuff just to be with Jenny. “Yeah, I’ll pick you up at the same time and place.”

  Chapter 23

  Ashley recovered fully over the next few weeks. Najid had found a group of international students, Christians, several of whom had Muslim backgrounds. Their group met on Friday evenings. He and Ashley discussed many of the issues between Muslims and Christians over coffee, and she learned a great deal from Najid’s experience. She began to attend her own church again.

  On a Sunday in mid-June during the sermon, her eyes wandered to a young man with black hair sitting next to an attractive young lady. He slouched in his seat, head down, not asleep, but possibly reading. Ashley couldn’t tell. He didn’t seem to be interested in the sermon and stood up very slowly at the end of the service. He didn’t sing the last song. She could see that he grimaced a bit at the final words from the pulpit. Ashley then filed out into a crowded foyer near the entrance where the people gathered to talk and greet the pastor. She met friends and chattered about her upcoming trip to Israel.

  While mingling she found herself within a few feet of the young man she had noticed. He seemed anxious to leave, with the girl behind him not happy with his pushing people. Ashley answered her friend’s questions about the planned trip. She had to almost shout because of the crowd noise. She looked up finding the young man staring at her. He had a distinctive red birthmark above his left eye. He quickly moved and shoved his way out the door, turning away from the pastor’s extended hand.

  Heading out to lunch with several friends, Ashley wondered aloud who that strange person could be. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him before. And yet his gaze and the red mark on his forehead triggered the thought that she had seen him somewhere in the past. Maybe at church. He had seemed both bored and nervous, certainly anxious to get out the door. Later at home she got out her maps of Israel and Palestine and began to trace the itinerary of their tour. She could hardly wait to go.

  Jenny climbed into the passenger seat after church and Robert took off, tires screeching. It put the exclamation point on how he felt.

  “You’re going to get a ticket driving like that,” Jenny cautioned.

  “Yeah, you’re right, Jenny.” Of all things, he didn’t want a confrontation with the police and getting back into their computer database. He didn’t know what was in there, but he’d had some previous traffic experiences and investigations by police in New York. So he slowed the car and drove her home sedately.

  “You pushed your way right out of the church, Robert. You were rude. Why?”

  “I needed to get out of there, Jenny.” He didn’t mention the real reason: that blonde. After dropping Jenny off at her rooming house, he decided to drive top down up to Snoqualmie Pass. He had come in on I-90 on his way to Seattle both times and wanted to see the mountains again. Robert stopped at a drive-in for some fast food, put the top down, and punched cruise control for sixty miles per hour so he wouldn’t have to worry about police. He grabbed his cheeseburger, held the steering wheel with his left hand, and put his milkshake between his legs. A cloud shadowed his mind on the beautiful sunny day in June.

  His mind raced. That blonde at church. She looked familiar. He had seen her somewhere. Robert needed to find the answer, but how? He had heard a bit of her conversation over the crowd noise, and even been close enough to hear something about her recovery and a trip to Israel with a group from the church in July. When she glanced up she had looked into his eyes. Just for a moment. Oh no, the synagogue! His eyes widened and mouth dropped open. “Shit!” he shouted, banging on the steering wheel. “No! Yes! She’s the one.”

  He was certain that was the girl he had exchanged glances with at the synagogue bombing, the girl across the street who saw hi
m. Their eyes had met then, just like today. Just before the explosion. He had seen her on the sidewalk, bleeding, he had assumed to death. But she had dropped out of the news after a week or so. She obviously had recovered, and that’s what she spoke about. But also about a trip to Israel sponsored by the church.

  He had looked away quickly today, but maybe not quickly enough. She must have recognized him! The more he thought about it, the more sure he became. He knew now that she would remember him. No doubt about it. She would go to the police and tell them. But she didn’t know his name or anything about him. If he never went back to that church, she’d never see him again. Thank Allah he had never signed a visitor’s card. He had better lie low and hide in his room. No, that would be too obvious. He should continue attending Seattle Central Community College as though nothing had happened. He would see Jenny and tell her no more church. She would understand. It would be natural since she already knew he didn’t like it.

  By the time he passed Denny Creek Campground, Robert had a plan worked out, but he had to get more information.

  On Monday after class, Robert found an empty office at the college. Maybe it’s good they don’t have pay telephone booths anymore, he thought. Too easy to trace. He called the church office and asked to speak to someone about the trip to Israel coming up. The operator rang another office, and a lady informed him she volunteered on Monday and didn’t know very much about the trip, but would be happy to answer any questions she could with the information available. She didn’t ask his name.

  “It’s a great opportunity for you,” she said. “The cost is only nineteen hundred dollars for ten days there, and that includes airfare, hotels, transfers, and some meals. That’s what it says here on the brochure.”

  “That’s a good price,” Robert said. “What are the dates of the trip?”

  “Let’s see … you would leave on July tenth and return to Seattle on the twenty-fourth.”

  “Where generally would it go?”

  “It looks like the first few days are in Bethlehem and Galilee, then a trip to the Dead Sea and Qumran—you know, where the scrolls were found. Then Masada, then north to Jericho, and the last few days in Jerusalem.”

  “Do you know how many are going?”

  “Looks like eleven people are signed up with their deposits, according to a list printed on Friday.”

  “Could you tell me who they are?”

  “I’m not sure I should release the names. Are you interested in going? I can send you a brochure.”

  “I’ll think about it, you know, and maybe get back to you. Thanks for the information.”

  He had just found the key to eliminate the final threat.

  Robert could hardly wait to get home to his room. He had saved lots of news feeds about the bombing on his computer, including on Facebook. He scrolled back to the day after the event and sure enough, there was her picture. Ashley Wells. He stared out the window, gritting his teeth. She’d seen him again, at church.

  Chapter 24

  Robert rehashed memories of Imam Jabril as he parked his Corvette a few blocks away from the Islamic Center. He found the imam alone in the kitchen of the mosque at three-thirty, following afternoon prayers, preparing tea. He looked at Robert with those piercing dark eyes. Like a scowling Ayatollah Khomeini.

  “Tea?” he said, offering the cup to Robert. “Where have you been?” He changed to a soft whisper. “We haven’t seen you since the bombing. I haven’t seen Ali either. You both just disappeared.”

  “I’ve been changing my routine.”

  The imam put his index finger over his mouth. “Security,” he whispered.

  The imam continued, his voice barely audible. “You succeeded. Congratulations. Allahu akbar.”

  “Only with your help, you know. And now I need it again.”

  “Come,” Jabril whispered. “We’ll go out in back to the chairs under the big tree. The police drive by here sometimes, and I’m suspicious they may have a bug in the main prayer room. We are careful in what we say out loud now.”

  Robert drew up a chair outside, opposite the imam, and sipped his tea. He told Jabril about going to the Seattle Central Community College, not far away from the Islamic Center. Without mentioning the church, he shared about Ashley Wells, about seeing her initially across the street at the synagogue, and that she saw him just before the explosion.

  “I’ve read the articles on my computer right after the bombing. Did she survive?”

  “Yeah, she did. She dropped out of the news after about a week. She wouldn’t do interviews, so I guess they left her alone.”

  “Are you sure she saw you at the synagogue?”

  “Yeah, I am. You know, our eyes met, like just momentarily before the bomb went off. Then she collapsed on the sidewalk.”

  The imam nodded, stroking his beard. He picked up his cup and sipped. “Have you seen her since?”

  “Yeah, that’s the problem. We were fairly close in a crowd, and she saw me looking at her. At first I didn’t recognize her, but I know she recognized me, probably by the red birthmark above my eye.”

  “Are you sure the girl you saw in the crowd is Ashley Wells?”

  “I went home and looked up her picture on Facebook. Same girl.”

  “Have you seen her since then?”

  “No, and I don’t want to. That’s why I’m here. She is the only one in the world who could identify me as the bomber … besides you and Ali.”

  “Wasn’t there a man with her?”

  “Yeah, but the guy had his back to me.”

  “So what do you want from me?”

  “Imam, I need your help to eliminate this threat.” Robert told him about her impending tour with the church group to Israel without relating how he learned of it. He didn’t want anything to happen here since the police loomed everywhere. Could the imam help with his international contacts, to have something happen to her in Israel?

  “How do you know she’s going to the Zionist Entity?”

  “I’ve checked it with the church by telephone and confirmed it on their web page. I know exactly when they are leaving, which airline. Destination: Tel Aviv.”

  “You want me to arrange with my friends there to trail her and find some opportunity to get rid of the infidel?”

  “Yeah.” Robert nodded.

  “I can make it worth your while. Also for your friends there.”

  “How much?”

  “Thirty thousand up front, and another thirty when the job is complete.”

  Imam Jabril gazed off toward the house, which needed repair. He nodded. Several moments passed. Robert wondered what he was thinking.

  Finally he spoke.

  “Do you have that kind of money?”

  “Yeah, family trust fund. I can bring you a bank check tomorrow.”

  The imam nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. I have secure e-mail so I will check with my friend in Jerusalem. Then we’ll see if he can help. Come back day after tomorrow.”

  Robert couldn’t keep his mind on the lectures. He met Jenny after class.

  “Hey, Jenny, I won’t be going back to the church, but we can see each other at school and have coffee together once in a while.”

  She frowned and sighed. “I guess I’m not surprised. OK then.”

  He liked her, but didn’t want to get close. She shouldn’t learn any more about him. Distance equals protection.

  He couldn’t think of anything except his meeting with Imam Jabril tomorrow. The financial transaction had been a snap at the bank. He’d mentioned buying a new car, and the teller handed him the bank draft for thirty thousand dollars without any questions, based on his large amount in their money market fund.

  The imam had their tea ready, and they walked out to the white plastic chairs under the big tree. Robert noticed the whole place needed fixing up, inside and out.

  “Did you hear from your friend?” Robert didn’t wait for any greetings or small talk.

  “I did.” The imam nodd
ed and continued.

  “He has people there who can help with the project. And yes, he is interested … for a price.”

  “How much?” Robert asked.

  “Fifty thousand if they succeed. But I have to share the up-front costs with them, so I’ll need more as well.”

  Robert stopped to consider that. If they didn’t get rid of her, he’d eventually be dead meat. “Fair enough. I’ll also provide another thirty to you on proof of success. Here’s the down payment.” He handed Jabril the bank draft for thirty thousand dollars noted to “Cash” and a flash drive. “And here is all the information you will need on Ashley Wells. You know, picture of her, flight information, itinerary with departure and return dates from Tel Aviv. It’s all on there. Are we in full agreement?”

  “We are. You are well prepared,” Jabril said, nodding his head.

  “And you can count on my friend in Jerusalem. He has men who are skilled. He will succeed.” They shook hands. “Allahu Akbar.”

  Chapter 25

  Ashley looked out the window at the white beaches rapidly approaching as they glided silently, descending over the blue Mediterranean into Ben Gurion airport near Tel Aviv. The flight attendant announced the time: three p.m. With a short day and night, Ashley found herself too excited to sleep. She would crash in the hotel later. Her new friend and seatmate, Marie, a quiet, single woman in her thirties with short brown hair, shared her enthusiasm. “Look at all the people on the beach. The tall buildings must be hotels,” Marie said. “It looks like Waikiki.”

  Ashley leaned toward the window, next to her conservatively dressed friend, who she couldn’t imagine frolicking on the beach in Honolulu.

  “I’ve never been to Hawaii. I’ve been to northern Mexico, but that’s it.”