Fredo's Dream: SEAL Brotherhood: Fredo

by Sharon Hamilton

  Fredo’s heart was pounding in his chest. “I’m not thinking that’s a good idea, Kyle. What if something’s—I don’t want her to go over without protection. Call it off, Kyle.”

  Armando’s phone rang and everyone jumped.

  “Gus?” He waited for information. “Okay, good. You let us know what you find out. You got any answer on Felicia’s cell phone, or on Mia’s, for that matter?”

  Fredo turned to Kyle. “Christy shouldn’t go over there alone. Seriously, Kyle, that’s not a good idea.”

  “Okay, I’ll let her know.”

  “Who are you calling, Armani?” Fredo asked.

  “Gina. She might know who else to call.” He left the area to have his private conversation.

  Fredo knew Gina still had friends on the San Diego PD who would help in any way they were able, even bending the lines, if they were sure they wouldn’t get caught.

  Kyle returned and told everyone Christy was staying home.

  “Should we be calling our ladies, warning them?” asked T.J. “I mean, they get together when we’re gone. It wouldn’t be uncommon for them to check on each other when we’re overseas. I just hate to scare them unnecessarily. I’m thinking this is some kind of fluke. Mia goes off to the hospital because Ricardo gets into something, and her cell’s dead or something.”

  “Hope to God you’re right, T.J.” whispered Fredo.

  Armando walked back to the group. “Okay, Gina’s gonna call the PD and talk to a couple of her former colleagues. We’ll get a patrol to go by there.”

  “That helps some.”

  Their transport arrived. There was no mistaking the sounds of the lumbering jet that would be their home for the next fifteen hours. The good news was that they’d arrive directly at the San Diego airport, not an East Coast airport and then have to catch another flight home. The bad news was that they’d be out of communication that much longer.

  Fredo tried one last time to reach Mia. “Babe, I’m going crazy here. If you can, just text me you’re okay. I guess you’re with your mom, and that’s good. But we’re worried sick. Please, baby. Leave me a message.”

  He was the last one to strap in and turn off his cell. He tried to think of anything he could do, but the only thing that would help was to get himself home, and now.

  He started second-guessing everything he’d done the last few hours, from the argument with her about the baby to the little sexy phone call they’d had from the Canaries. Should he have called Collins the first time he couldn’t reach her, or had someone check in on her after the landscaping guy fiasco?

  But as the plane took off and droned on at cruising speed, he knew the only thing available to him was to fall asleep. Sleep would make him think better. It had been a long couple of days. These quick insertions always messed with a person’s head. The jet lag and time zone differences and the distance between where he was and everything he held dear got to him, as it did many men.

  So all he could do was relax, command himself to rest, and hopefully get some decent sleep. That’s what he told his body to do.

  He was hoping his brain would go along with it.

  Chapter 25

  ‡

  THE SWAT TEAM arrived ahead of Riverton and Malmoud. The police radio had constant chatter, much of it in code Malmoud didn’t understand. Riverton sat next to him in the back seat of the sedan driven by a uniformed officer.

  “You said you’ve been here a long time? How long was it?”

  “About forty years. I came as a young child with my parents. At that time, there were lots of Iranians coming to the States, and we came as part of that settlement group, though we were from Syria. My father was a physician there.”

  “So your whole family came, then?”

  “Not all of us were able to come. My father’s three brothers stayed behind, my grandfathers on both my father’s and mother’s sides stayed behind. Me, my sister and two brothers came together, and then we sponsored several others. But my uncles and both grandfathers died there, most of them in battle.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I truly am.”

  “Thank you.” He examined the profile of the detective sitting next to him. “What about your family?”

  “Who me?” The detective gave him a puzzled look. “I have a girlfriend, but no children, no wife. I’m not the family man type. This job is my family.”

  “So you sacrifice for what you believe in.”

  “I like to think I do some good in the world.”

  “You don’t miss the companionship of a family?” Malmoud wanted to know.

  Riverton chuckled. “Oh, I got companionship. No problem there, and don’t get me confused with a saint, or a holy man as you put it. I’m just not the marrying kind. And I have little patience or tolerance for children.”

  “I would have liked to have children.”

  “None? You have none?”

  “Back in Syria I could have taken on a second wife and had children. My wife couldn’t have them because of something that happened to her as a girl.”

  “So she came from Syria as well?”

  “Yes. But unlike me, she came as a young woman with her younger sister. Her parents had been killed. I met her at the Center when I first started. We married, but she was barren.”

  “So we have more than one thing in common,” Riverton whispered, watching the action in front of him.

  “Sir?”

  “Well, we both want peace. We both want to protect the innocent. And we both don’t have family—immediate family—so we’re loners, you and I.”

  “You said you had companionship.” Malmoud found he liked the detective and hoped the question wouldn’t offend him.

  “Yes.” Riverton chuckled and shook his head as if to shake off an errant thought. “Different, very different from being married. I have a girlfriend, and that’s all it’s gonna be, trust me.”

  “Like they say, friends with benefits.” Malmoud would never be able to explain his fondness for this crusty law enforcement individual to anyone he knew.

  “In my case, I think it’s more the benefits I seek. But do you have any idea how many women love law enforcement types? Maybe it’s the guns and handcuffs and everything.”

  “Perhaps it is that they feel they can trust you.”

  “Well, they shouldn’t.”

  “I think they know you’d sacrifice yourself to save them. That’s what a hero does, right? There are lots of men, but men who stand up for a cause, to protect and make the world a better place, those men are rare.”

  The two didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Malmoud mused on how strange the world was, and how difficult it was to see the black and white of solutions. But it was never hard to discover right from wrong. He knew this man knew the difference too.

  “You know what I think, Malmoud?”

  “No, what?”

  “I think if there were more people like you and I there wouldn’t be as much killing and heartache. Just imagine if we ran the whole damn world. What a place that would be.”

  “People would have to go to church, they would have to worship.”

  “That’s okay. I can live with that, but they wouldn’t yell as much or try to kill each other as much. Except at ball games and soccer matches.”

  Malmoud smiled.

  “They would honor the children. Do everything to keep them safe.”

  “Yes. Odd, coming from the likes of us, right?”

  “Bullies wouldn’t be tolerated.”

  “Absolutely not. Maybe people would trust each other more.”

  “Or not be afraid to disagree.” Malmoud was surprised he was feeling so good.

  “Just imagine that.” Riverton jerked, looking up as they both heard shouts coming from the second floor.

  Malmoud watched as men in black quietly snuck up the stairway to the upper floor apartment where he knew Sayid lived. He watched in slow motion as someone knocked on the door, then waited. After a second knock and then a
more forceful pounding of the door, they knocked it open with a metal pipe.

  “Okay, I’m going to have to go see what they found. You stay put. Stuart here will watch out until I return.” Riverton exited the car and ran across the yard and up the stairs and disappeared.

  Malmoud wondered if perhaps the men had caught both individuals, and he hoped they caught them alive, since he didn’t hear any gunfire. Riverton slipped inside the doorway with his gun drawn.

  “Won’t be long now.” The voice from the driver startled Malmoud for a second. He’d been lost in thought. Wondering what he’d say to his student, what he’d say to the holy man, Khan.

  “What?” He asked Stuart.

  “Well, they just breached the door. Won’t be long before it’s all over. These things never last very long.”

  No one had come out of the apartment. Then he began to worry about the possibility of a bomb going off. He became concerned for Riverton’s health, a man he now considered a friend.

  He was relieved when the detective stood at the railing just outside the apartment doorway. He motioned for him to come up.

  “Me?” asked Stuart.

  “No, send him,” Riverton boomed and pointed at Malmoud.

  “Okay, fella, it’s showtime. I guess they need you upstairs.”

  “Do you think it’s safe? Do you think they have caught anyone?” Malmoud asked the driver.

  “Come on, let’s find out.” He motioned for Malmoud to follow in front of him. Although not in police custody, the teacher wanted to cooperate fully. The narrow stairway had to be shared with a number of police and rescue crews coming down. At the top landing he poked his head into the apartment and found it buzzing with activity. Then he spotted Riverton, who came running over.

  “They’re not here. We’re going through stuff. Come back here, I want to show you something.” Riverton took his arm and led him to the bedroom.

  Malmoud had never been inside Sayid’s apartment. The walls were littered with posters and clippings he’d found and tacked to the walls everywhere. The place was barely furnished, with a futon type couch in the living room and a large screen TV by the wall in front of it. Several prayer rugs were laid on top of the carpeting. The galley kitchen he passed along the way to the back was nearly empty. A tea pot sat on the stove. A stack of water bottles still encased in packaging sat on the countertop, its contents ripped open and a dozen bottles missing. He didn’t see anything of a suitcase or evidence the holy man, Khan, had been present.

  But once in the back bedroom, Malmoud could see that this room was the epicenter of the student’s life. A large screen sat on top of a desk along with a printer. Maps of San Diego were taped to the wall. Certain areas, including some parks and churches were circled in red. Houses were identified with red stars.

  Malmoud was surprised at the level of industriousness the student demonstrated.

  “You ever see this before?” Riverton asked, watching him warily.

  “Never. I am shocked.” It was a true statement. The amount of research and detail with all the districts of the San Diego area and the distances to parks and shopping, as well as schools and churches, was extraordinary. He’d spent quite a bit of time plotting out things.

  “So, Malmoud. We see enough here to think he’s got something big planned. Any idea what?”

  “No. But I’m guessing this is all Sayid.” He was distracted by some pictures on the wall of women, with X’s written over them. They were pictures of models from magazines, in suggestive poses. There were also a few pictures taken with his cell phone and printed on a photo printer. “I think he must have followed some sort of instructions over the past few weeks. This couldn’t be done in a day—even two people couldn’t get this all done in a day.” Malmoud was still at a loss for words.

  “I agree. I wish his computer was here. Then we could tell what he was researching.”

  Malmoud was struck with how foreign all this seemed to him. He now understood he had no idea who Sayid really was or had become.

  Riverton was shown some paperwork by one of the female officers. He took it to Malmoud. “It looks like this is a paystub. Do you know this business?”

  He showed a stub from a Carlos Hernandez Landscaping Service.

  “No.”

  Riverton spoke to the woman, handing her his cell phone. “Go find this guy, and when you get him on the phone, give it back to me. And bag this.” He handed her the pay stub.

  “Of course.” The woman left.

  Malmoud walked up to one of the maps. “Do you notice he puts numbers here?”

  Riverton stood beside him as Malmoud pointed out the numbers following along red lines. “It appears to be a measurement.”

  “Between this apartment and these places. Between these places. Like he is calculating things.”

  The female officer handed Riverton the phone.

  “This is Detective Clark Riverton of the San Diego PD. You have an employee, a Sayid Qabbani?”

  “Ah, no. I have a Joel Qabbani. He’s a landscaper of mine. Hired labor. Why, is he in some trouble? He didn’t show up for work today.”

  “We just want to talk to him. Where are you working?”

  “Over off Clover & Sunset. We just finished two houses down the street. Why?”

  “Is that the only job you are doing right now?”

  “Well, at the present time, yes. We’re working in and around the rain. Mostly cleanup. Our big stuff happens in the early Spring.”

  “So he didn’t show up. Did he call?”

  “No. Wish he would have. We’re short-handed now and I’m not going to finish today.”

  “So any idea where he is? It’s urgent we talk to him.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you. Should I have him call you if I hear from him?”

  “Yes. Call this number. By the way, did he work on the last job there, those two houses down the street?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “So that was yesterday?”

  ‘Yes. And didn’t say anything to me about not showing up, either.”

  “Okay, thank you. Can I ask you, what kind of a car does he drive?”

  “Oh, he doesn’t drive. He walks. He doesn’t live too far away from the last job, either. I dropped him off a couple of times. But he walks everywhere. I see him most days, even when we’re not working.”

  “You have any trouble with him?”

  “Oh no, not a bit.”

  Riverton came over to the map and looked at it again, tapping it several times. “You see him, please don’t mention we talked. Just get in touch with me personally, okay?”

  “Sure. Um. Is he dangerous?”

  “At this point, I don’t want to scare you, but, yes. I wouldn’t have him working around you or your men or your customers. You see him, do not try to talk to him. Get in touch with us first.”

  “No problem.”

  “Wait a minute.” Riverton peered at the map again. “Where was the last job? What was the cross street?”

  “Like I said, it was Clover between Sunset and Pacifico. We’re just five houses down, if you want to stop by.”

  “Thanks for your help.”

  Riverton turned his phone off and placed it in his belt holder. “Steps, Malmoud,” he said as he tapped the map for the third time. “He’s marked how many steps it takes to walk between these places. He’s got it all lined out in steps.”

  That made sense to Malmoud.

  Riverton’s cell rang again.

  “Hi, Gina. What a pleasant surprise. Say, I’m in the middle of something, but if it’s important, I’m all ears.”

  Riverton listened. All of a sudden his expression turned dark. “How long since anyone’s seen them?” Then he nodded. “Give me the address and I’ll try to stop by.”

  He got only partially done writing the address down when Malmoud saw Riverton drop his pen and his notebook on the floor at his feet.

  Chapter 26

  ‡


  FREDO TOLD HIMSELF he’d sleep. He repeated this over and over again in a chanted mantra, willing himself to close his eyes and rest, but it wasn’t working. He stared up at the red lights in the ceiling, noticing they fluctuated slightly. He’d never realized that before. Carter was reading on his iPhone, grinning and licking his lips. The light from the screen illuminating his face as if he was some apparition. Cooper was leaned against him, and with his long torso, part of the top of his wiry hair prickled against Fredo’s cheek and annoyed him, so he shoved the farm boy to the side so he could lean on Danny. Armando looked like he was in perfect repose, a sly smile on his face. Ever in control, there wasn’t a hair out of place, and even unconscious, Fredo could see he was lethal.

  Kyle was seated across the aisle from him, and like everyone else, his headphones were covering his ears. Although his LPOs eyes were closed and he bounced around like the rest of them, Fredo got the impression he was still watching him through careful slits.

  Fredo needed the rest, but he just couldn’t shut everything off. He began to dread landing, especially if he battled all the remaining twelve hours of the flight and then dozed off just before they touched down. That would be his luck.

  Like sheep, he counted his mistakes going all the way back to high school. His grades were shit. But he was kept around because he was the best wrestler in the district. He’d found this little trick he felt ashamed of now, tapping a guy’s anus discreetly, which would make him flinch. Then he’d get the takedown. It wasn’t fair, but then Fredo was all about winning because wrestling was all he had. He was a one-trick pony. Nobody told on him because they were too embarrassed to admit what had happened.

  The girls didn’t gravitate to a stocky guy with horrible acne. He’d gotten teased so often in school he wore his unibrow like a badge of honor, he was so totally comfortable with it. Nothing anyone could say now would make him tweeze it. Even Mia had asked him, but stopped after she saw he was resolute. Funny how he could be so firm about that and not about other things.

  With a rock hard strong body, he knew he was destined for the military and wanted to travel, so decided the Navy would be his ticket out of East LA. Besides, all the pretty girls were in San Diego anyhow. When he saw the training course at Coronado, he knew the SEALs were his destiny. Fredo had never regretted the decision. He’d never wanted to be a hero, just wanted to be the best at what he did and to protect as many innocents as he could until his ticket got punched. There was always someone handsomer, faster, taller, a better swimmer, but nobody could beat him at wrestling. And he didn’t even have to cheat anymore to win. He just strapped on them and wouldn’t let go until they understood they didn’t have a chance and quit.