“I planned to celebrate our return with friends.” Ashley shook her head. “I’m trying not to let fear control my life.”
“I am sorry, Ashley,” Gordon said. “But you need to know and be alert for anything that looks suspicious. In the meantime we and the police will be doing everything we can with this new information to find the bomber, whether here in Seattle or anywhere in the United States. We’ve had a tight check on international flights and borders ever since the bombing, so it’s likely he’s here in the country somewhere.”
Gordon handed Ashley and the two men his card so they could reach him day or night. He said goodbye and walked away. The three sat there. Najid looked at the floor. Jim grimaced and shook his head, sighing deeply.
Tears formed in Ashley’s eyes. “I prayed I had left all the trouble behind, in Israel.”
Chapter 53
Robert Bentley had counted the days. He knew from the Internet that the U.S. Airways flight had landed, bringing back the tour group to Seattle. He paced the floor in his apartment wondering whether or not Ashley Wells returned with the rest of them. Neither cable nor local TV broadcasts mentioned anything about the bombing victim not returning from the Holy Land. They would have if she had disappeared. He’d contact Imam Jabril in the morning to get any news. He could always query his contact in Israel by secure e-mail. Robert tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. He would have to wait for the answer to Jabril’s e-mail. He hated waiting, but had to confirm that Imam Jabril’s contacts in Israel had succeeded in their mission to get rid of this woman. She could put him behind bars for life—or worse.
The clock moved so slowly. Robert would drive over at five-thirty in time for morning prayers, and then they could talk. No, he would walk. It would be good to get out. Besides, he didn’t want neighbors to identify him now with a red Corvette convertible.
Robert, bowing on his knees with the imam, looked over during the prayers and noted the spot on the man’s forehead where he had pressed it to the ground in prostration before Allah for many years. He didn’t share that intense desire to pray like the imam, but he did share the desire for revenge against the policies in the U.S. and Israel. He would never lose that hate.
He followed the imam to the kitchen after prayers, for the early morning tea. They carried steaming cups outside in the quietness of an early July morning to avoid any sensitive discussion that could be picked up by the prayer room bugs, if they existed. The backyard had to be safe. It would be difficult to plant eavesdropping devices there since the telephone and power lines came from the street in front. Settled in plastic chairs in the back of the Islamic Center, Robert began, “They’re back.”
“Who’s back?” Jabril asked.
“The tour group from Israel. You know, the group that Ashley Wells traveled with.”
“Oh yes. The problem my contact there worked on.”
“But I need to find out now whether he succeeded.”
“We’ll probably know in a few days.”
“Look, Imam. I need to know now! My life is at stake here! I’m paying for you and your man over there, lots of money. I want you to go to your computer now and find out with your secure e-mail what happened in Israel!”
“Alright. I haven’t checked e-mail this morning. I’ll send an urgent message asking him.” Jabril walked back into the house.
Robert shook his head. His future hung on the answer. The one bit of news that could free him from the dark cloud hanging over him, and the imam acted like it was just an ordinary morning to take tea. How long would it take to get an answer back? Who was he writing to, and would he know now what happened to the woman? Robert sighed and began to sweat. Five minutes went by.
Suddenly the imam broke into a run from the house toward Robert. His face appeared ashen. His eyes stared from under his bushy eyebrows. “My friend sent me an urgent message! Oh, Allah! We’re in trouble!”
Robert blanched. He held his breath in panic. “What—what happened?”
“All he wrote in Arabic was ‘Mission failed.’ Then he wrote ‘Mossad closing in’ without finishing the sentence.”
“Oh, no! Did he say anything in English?”
“No. He must have sent it in a hurry as he saw police or intelligence agents coming. Or maybe he just heard they were coming somehow.”
“Who’s Mossad?”
“Israeli intelligence. Like FBI.”
“What does that mean, Imam? Are we in danger?”
“They work back. They must have captured the hit man and discovered my friend who sent the message and received the funds I sent. Mossad has ways of getting information out of people. I don’t know how. But they always seem to get what they want. I had wired half the money you gave me.”
“So what does that mean?” Robert looked wide-eyed at Jabril and trembled.
“It means Mossad has his computer now, including the messages to and from me. My friend sent that last message two hours ago. They probably have the FBI already tracing my address as we speak. I’ve got to get out of here.”
“What about me, Imam?”
“You have no electronic or telephone messages to the Islamic Center or to Jerusalem, so they have no way of tracing this back to you. The only thing is the bank. They could follow the money trail … particularly if my friend is forced to tell where he got the money. But he won’t tell. And I use a false passport with a different name to set up accounts to wire funds. He doesn’t know who you are. But he can’t stop them from reading his e-mail. But no, he won’t, how do you say, ‘sing’?”
With that, the imam disappeared into the house. Robert waited, frozen over what to do. Within five minutes, Jabril ran with his laptop and a carry-on bag through the backyard toward the alley. He slapped a very small pistol on the table next to Robert, who soon heard a car start and take off, tires squealing.
Robert stood numb and motionless, thinking. Ashley Wells. Still alive, in Seattle, to identify him to the FBI. All his plans had failed.
Robert grabbed his hair in his fists. What would happen to him with the FBI on his trail? What did they know? What would they learn from coming to the Islamic Center? Where would the imam go? What would happen to the center? What about Ali? He hadn’t seen him since the bombing. Ali and the other brothers didn’t know where Robert lived. Good thing he hadn’t shown up at the center. But what should he do now?
He finally realized the FBI could find him at the center. Robert picked up the pistol, bolted out to the back alley, and walked hurriedly out to the next street, heading home at just under a run. He needed time to think this through. He would never go anywhere without the loaded gun in his pocket.
As he sat on the edge of the bed in his small apartment, Robert took a mental inventory of his situation. First, he had kept a low profile at the community college and elsewhere. And Ali, his friend and accomplice, had no idea where Robert lived. The people who helped obtain the C-4 never really saw him or heard his name. Now the imam had left, heading who knows where in the U.S. or Mexico. Probably not Canada. That would be both too obvious and difficult to get through the border. No one else besides those two knew anything. Except Ashley Wells.
He had gone over and over this in his mind so many times. Why hadn’t she gone to the police already if she recognized him that day in the church? The fact that he wasn’t aware of them following him suggested that maybe she hadn’t recognized him after all. If that was the case, then he needn’t have tried to get her eliminated in Israel. He had been so caught up in the excitement of the bombing, and then covering his tracks, that he had not been thinking clearly. All he lost was a lot of money. But the FBI now knows it came from the United States. So that directed their search back here. And with computer information, they would settle on the Islamic Center and Imam Jabril. Jabril thinks his friend won’t sing. But with the guy’s computer and financial records, it won’t matter.
Robert stared at the floor. Maybe there was no point in going after the woman now. His attemp
t to neutralize her as a threat would probably fail. It would jeopardize him further. He should just stay away from her so she wouldn’t see him again. But on the other hand, perhaps she still posed a danger to him. He must try something.
He could move from Seattle. But where would he go without attracting attention with his red convertible? You don’t live in a stupid little room and drive that kind of car. Perhaps he should sell it and move. But every major transaction, every move with official documentation, leaves a paper trail to follow. No, he must lie low, use buses mostly, make all purchases in cash, and stay away from any place he might see Ashley Wells. Robert put his feet up to go to sleep. It would be lonely, alone in his apartment. He couldn’t even see Jenny at the community college. She might know Ashley from church. But fortunately Jenny didn’t know where he lived. What had his life come to? Hiding, alone. He had become a jihadist hero to radical Islamists around the world. But they didn’t share in paying the price.
Chapter 54
Two of Ashley’s housemates had welcomed her home, met Najid, and went into the kitchen to cook a homecoming dinner for Ashley, inviting Najid as well. He carried her two bags upstairs and came down to find her lying on the couch, smiling at him.
That began hours of conversation about the trip, her wonderful time with Najid’s family and how much she would have liked to have him with her. She avoided telling him about her troubles, not wanting to spoil their time together. She had so much to tell, and she was happy just to be back with this amazing man. She smiled and then yawned as her eyes closed. Jet lagged, she just made it through dinner without falling asleep.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Najid said as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Ashley slept for twelve hours.
She called her parents the next morning to let them know she had arrived safely at home. When asked if she had a good time in Israel, she simply shared a bit about the famous churches and some highlights, the Western Wall and the Garden Tomb. She didn’t mention the abduction, realizing they had not heard of it, nor of any ongoing danger. Apparently she had escaped so quickly that the abduction didn’t make the news. So they didn’t need to know any of that now. Her parents had had enough to worry about after the bombing without concerning themselves with something more that may never happen.
Chapter 55
Najid appeared at the door. He looked at her with a startled look, speechless. He handed her a single long-stemmed rose in a water tube. She thought she had looked a mess when she got off the plane yesterday, so she took special care to look her best when he came. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. He stood there, a bit red in the face, smiling down at her. “Ashley, you’re, um, you look a lot better than yesterday. It’s … so good to have you back home.”
Ashley grabbed his hand, put the rose in a vase, and led him to the table for lunch. Her housemates disappeared. “Can’t you stay?” Najid called to one of the girls running up the stairs.
He didn’t notice the quick wink she flashed to Ashley. “We’ve already had lunch. But thanks, Najid.”
Ashley brought a salad and sandwiches from the kitchen and sat down around the corner of the table next to him. The sun shone though the large window, brightening the yellow table cloth and red roses from her roommates and now Najid. The neighbor’s silk tree dominated the view with its striking light red blossoms, hiding much of their 1920s house and porch.
“I prayed for you every day while you traveled, Ashley. Obviously you needed miraculous help at times, from the little you’ve explained so far. You remember the ten lepers that Jesus healed? Only one came back to thank him. So I want to thank him now.” Najid looked up, eyes open, and smiled. “Thank you, Father, for keeping Ashley safe and free from harm. You answered our prayers. And thank you for this lunch together.”
Ashley gazed at this remarkable young man, thinking back to their first meeting in the zoology grad student lounge. She kept smiling at Najid, forgetting to eat.
“This salad looks good,” Najid said. “Pomegranates. I haven’t had them since I came here. Should I have some?”
“Oh! I’m sorry,” she said, pointing to the salad. “Please … start.” Ashley flushed. “I … was just thinking.”
“About what? You have been through so much in the last three months.”
“Yeah … about everything. Meeting you. Dragging you to the synagogue just in time to get bombed. You in jail. Me in the hospital. Meeting your family. Having so many experiences with so many different people. I mean the good stuff. That’s what I’m focusing on. Not the abduction. Najid, I met so many interesting people.”
“Good for you.”
“But I haven’t put together all that I have learned. There are people in each religious group that have views so contrary to each other. I need to talk it through with you. That’s how I process things, by talking. And asking questions. I have collected so many different ideas and impressions and beliefs. Many are a lot different from what I held in Seattle before I left.”
“Give me an example.”
“OK, two rabbis …” She stopped and laughed at herself. “Sounds like the old joke of two guys in a bar. OK, we talked to two Orthodox rabbis, one who survived the holocaust in Auschwitz as a child. He loves Zionism. It’s part of his faith, and he wants more settlements to take over East Jerusalem and the West Bank to eventually drive the Palestinians out completely. He likes America’s money and support but doesn’t understand why Christians in the United States would get behind Israel like they do. Particularly since that view of the end times often involves killing Jews at Megiddo.”
“So who is the other rabbi?”
“He’s also Orthodox and also believes in the truth of the Old Testament. He’s the rabbi for the Jewish student, David, who guided us and hunted all over the Muslim Quarter for me. Wonderful guy! Anyway, this rabbi hates Zionism. He believes taking homes and lands by force violates Judaism.”
“So then what do you think, Ashley? Did you get your questions answered? You know, how the Jewish people feel about the support Israelis get from Christians in the United States?”
“Not really. In any kind of scientific experiment, you need enough subjects in your control and experimental groups to make any differences statistically significant. My sample size was too small.” They both laughed.
“I met some wonderful Muslims like Fatima’s family who endured so much loss since 2002. They accepted Fatima’s following Jesus as long as she remained a cultural Muslim to the world and didn’t become a ‘Western Christian.’ I’ll never forget them. But then there’s that other Muslim guy, my abductor.
“We loved our guides, David and Ben, guys who were so kind—both Jews—particularly David, who risked his life trying to find me. But then we had bad experiences with Israeli soldiers at checkpoints or the bulldozer guy representing the Israeli government.”
“So you found good ones and bad ones of both Muslims and Jews. What about Christians?”
“Well,” Ashley chuckled, “again my sample is too small. I wish I could have gone to your church and met your friends there. But if your family represents Christians who have suffered along with other Palestinians, then I have found people who love God and believe in peacemaking. Same with Faisal and his wife in the West Bank. On the other hand, I didn’t like some of the religious stuff we experienced in the Christian holy sites.”
“So you found it complicated?”
“Right!”
“Good for you. It is.”
Chapter 56
It had been several hours of talking since lunch. Ashley wandered into the kitchen to get some tea. She found Najid standing and looking out the living room window when she returned. She didn’t want him to leave. The hours of the afternoon had flown by.
“Would you like to take a walk after tea?”
“Let’s do. I think we need to talk about your being tracked down in Jerusalem and what to do now, here in Seattle.” He sipped his tea.
Ashley aver
ted her eyes and didn’t respond at first. It had been so wonderful to talk about her trip. The abduction was past history. She didn’t want to talk about it or deal with it anymore. But now it seemed, the menace continued. Was there someone here out to get her, even in Seattle? When would this end? What should she do?
She knew Najid remained concerned for her safety and that made her care for him. Care? Did she really mean ‘love’? She shocked herself at the admission. Yes, she did love him. She had never met any guy like him. He helped her forget everything for a while. And now he wanted to discuss the blackness again. She stirred her tea and raised her eyes to Najid.
“I don’t know what to do now that I am back. Even if the FBI or police had me under their surveillance for a few weeks, they can’t be with me all the time when I’m out. Gordon Appleby told us that.”
Najid seemed lost in thought. Finally he broke the silence as they finished drinking. “Let’s go.”
They strolled out into the summer afternoon to Ravenna Park, staying in the open areas and avoiding the wooded ravine, although she had enjoyed jogging there many times before the bombing. She took Najid’s arm, and he seemed pleased, tightening his arm against her hand. She had never touched him like that before. She sensed some tingling. It felt so good. And she felt safe with Najid.
“So Ashley, if the police can’t protect you when you are out, what will you do? You don’t want to be … what is the word?”
“A recluse?”
“Yeah. I learned that recently but forgot.”
“You’re right. I have too much to do to stay at home completely. I know I need to be cautious, but I refuse to give in to fear or evil. I need to protect myself, but I also need to trust God. He sent Salma for me in Israel. It’s the only way I can get through this. But maybe a plan will help. I do need to study for the MCAT, and I can do that at home.”
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