by Jenifer Ruff
“What do they hope to gain, like, personally?” a woman a few rows back called out.
“Extremists believe they’re doing the will of Allah and if they do their part they will be rewarded with a lifetime in paradise. Recruits are conditioned and brainwashed to believe this. Unfortunately, ISIS is extremely successful in this regard. They’re a powerful recruiting machine. They spend millions on propaganda, very effective propaganda, and it’s all over the internet.”
He looked around the auditorium to see if any other hands were raised and saw none. He put both hands on the podium and leaned forward. “Here’s something I’m sure you’ve heard before, but it’s important. To successfully protect our nation, we must be right one hundred percent of the time. No mistakes. To be successful as a terrorist—you only have to get lucky once.” He paused. “All of us must work together to keep the country safe. That’s it. Thank you.”
Several people stood up immediately to leave. Others clapped politely. Quinn felt a quick surge of resentment. They weren’t worried about the highly-motivated terrorists who wanted nothing more than their annihilation. They were probably just grateful he finished speaking so they could hurry over to the lunch buffet. Frowning, he shut down his computer and slipped it into his bag.
“Hey, Quinn.”
Quinn raised his eyes to see a DHS agent he had worked with in the past. “Hey. How’s it going?”
“Good, man. I heard you were here and wanted to say, hi. I just stepped in at the end of your presentation. You had some good questions.”
“It’s good when people ask questions at the end, means at least a few are still awake.”
The DHS agent laughed. “In your answers there, you didn’t mention the millions of jihadists with raging appetites for mass murder. Those who find fulfillment through executions and view the murder of infidels as holy and beautiful.” He snorted. “That’s what I wish they all knew.”
“I do too. Sometimes. But that evil and the depth of that hatred surpasses what the average American is prepared to believe.”
“True. And changing the jihadist’s motivation isn’t going to happen in this lifetime.”
“Nope. Our best strategy is prevention and defense.”
The man nodded. “Because it’s getting crazier out there.”
This time it was Quinn’s turn to agree.
“Are you going to get lunch?” said the DHS agent.
“Oh, uh, no. I need to check in with my office.”
“See you around then.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
The next morning, after a long run on unfamiliar streets, Quinn taught a training session on chemical weapons and left the auditorium with the last of the trainees. Stepping into the hallway, he spotted a woman ahead of him with smooth brown hair wearing a white lab coat. A surge in his heartbeat propelled him forward. He wove through the crowd, hurrying to catch up with her before she disappeared.
“Madeline,” he called.
She didn’t turn around. Only a few yards away, and she glanced to her right. Quinn saw her profile, a roman nose and full cheeks. He stopped and someone bumped into him from behind. “Oh, sorry,” said Quinn. His shoulders slumped forward with a heavy sigh. It wasn’t her. He was angry with himself for his surge of anticipation. He didn’t like what that said about him. He was supposed to fly home in the morning, but he decided on the spot to skip the evening’s events and get an earlier flight home.
His phone buzzed with an incoming message from Rashid.
Redman died.
What? How the hell did that happen? He stepped into an empty classroom, closed the door and called Rashid. “How did Redman die?” he said when Rashid answered.
“Don’t know yet. He met with a public attorney this morning, returned to his cell in the Federal Detention Center. I had him taken to an interrogation room. I walked in and he started seizing. I called for help. Medics were there in minutes, but failed to resuscitate him. He died right in front of me. If he had some sort of medical condition, he didn’t mention it when he was processed.”
“Damn,” Quinn said. “We’ll have to wait for an autopsy.”
“There was nothing I could do.”
“I’m sure there wasn’t.”
“Civil rights groups are going to protest, even though they didn’t give a damn about him two days ago, when he tried to take out everyone at the Hollywood Bowl. I mean, did you see him press the button right when a young family with three little kids walked by?”
“I know.”
“And, unfortunately, we still don’t know how he was communicating with his contact, Kareem. I’m sorry. I know it could turn into a big headache for us.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Redman wasn’t a high-profile terrorist with irreplaceable inside intelligence, but he was evil. The image of him detonating his bomb as the young family passed had been seared into Quinn’s memory.
“Okay,” said Rashid. “Are you going to the boondoggle thing tonight? Some sort of celebration, forget what they call it. Everyone who has ever done the training says it’s worth the trip.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard. But I’m skipping it, if I can get an earlier flight. I’m going to go home and spend some time with my wife.”
“Oh. Good. Safe trip and all that.”
Quinn boarded an afternoon flight and landed at LAX before nineteen hundred hours. Driving down Pacific Coast Highway, the ocean breeze welcomed him home and the setting sun illuminated the horizon with an array of purple and pink tones. He pictured Holly greeting him with her beautiful smile and a deep kiss inside the front hallway—happy to see him arrive home earlier than usual. He imagined the scent of her perfume, still intoxicating after so many years. When he reached the driveway, he braced himself for reality, expecting irritation in some form regardless of the time he had arrived. Lately, Holly always found something to set her off.
The first time he met Holly, she exuded beauty and confidence and seemed to fear nothing. Her carefree attitude was a welcome distraction from his career. All those things still held true, so what had changed?
He unlocked his front door. The house was dark, quiet, and empty. He exhaled through his mouth, long and slow. Built-up tension dissolved across his forehead and shoulders at the thought of unwinding in front of the television. He locked his weapons in the bedroom safe and changed into shorts and a West Point T-shirt. He microwaved three frozen dinners and ate them standing in front of the window, mesmerized by the ocean waves crashing onto the shore in the distance. When the plastic trays were empty, he grabbed a jar of peanut butter and a spoon, turned on the television, and sorted through a stack of mail while the Clippers played the Warriors in the background.
A crack of thunder surprised him. He crossed the house and opened the back door to witness a sudden downpour accompanied by a quick drop in temperature. After a few minutes of watching the rain, he grabbed a water bottle and walked out to the garage to bench, curl, and squat. An hour later, his shirt was stained with sweat and Holly still wasn’t home. He tried to reach her on her cell. When his call went directly to her voicemail, he left a message, took a shower, and went to bed. He stayed awake for a while worrying about his wife, but eventually the effects of a long day made him succumb to sleep.
Chapter Eight
Los Angeles
September 23rd
Digging her toes into the sand, Reese tipped her face up toward the moon, stuck out her chest, and flung her arms back. “Oh, my God! Seriously. I love this stuff!” She had been grinning like the Cheshire Cat since she’d swallowed the pills Holly gave her. Minutes later, she’d been hit with the overwhelming urge to go for a walk on the beach.
With a deep laugh, Holly dropped her high heels onto the beach and sashayed over to put her arm around her best friend. “Look at you! Someone is feeling good tonight.”
“I am. And it’s not just the drugs. I love my new job. I mean, did you see my boss’s house?” She turned to face the be
ach-front house they had left moments ago. Four stories of giant windows stared back at them. “And he’s insanely hot.”
“So is his wife,” Holly said.
“She’s a little on the plump side, a size six, at least. But don’t worry. Yes, I would screw him in a heartbeat, but I am not going to do anything to mess up this opportunity.”
“Good. I hope you can remember that.”
Reese laughed. “Thanks so much for coming out with me to his party, sweetie.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re my best friend. Plus, I wanted to see his house. So many blank walls in need of art. I made some recommendations. I hope I’ll be hearing from him.”
“I can always try to remind him.” Reese spread her arms wide and spun around in a circle until she stopped, facing the ocean. “Like I said, it’s not only the drugs, but seriously, you’ve got to get me more of them. Where did you get them?”
Holly smiled knowingly. “A new friend.”
“Your new friend needs to patent them quick. Everyone will want to feel like this all the time.”
“He doesn’t make them. He’s a distributor. I should send some to my father for his studio. They’ll help his actresses loosen up more than whatever it is they’re using now, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely. So, is there any particular reason you called your supplier a new friend, as opposed to a new dealer?”
Holly laughed. “Yes.” A grin spread across her face. “I slept with him. A few times. His name is Christian.”
Reese grinned. “Really?’
A crack of thunder startled the women. They froze, staring at each other with wide eyes and open mouths. A large raindrop splatted on top of Holly’s head. Another hit Reese’s nose. They broke into hysterical laughter.
“It’s about to pour. Come on!” Reese grabbed Holly’s hand.
“Wait!” Holly looked around for her shoes before scooping them out of the sand. She quickly pulled her tight skirt up around her waist so she could move more easily.
“I hope none of my new colleagues see you in your underwear,” Reese said, breathy from running.
“I look amazing in my panties!” Large raindrops suddenly pelted them from every direction. “Oh no! Oh shit!” yelled Holly.
They hurried back the way they had come, giggling and shrieking like children, aside from the profanities, as their hair and clothes quickly became drenched. The rain fell harder and faster. They sprinted across the wet sand toward the beach-front mansion.
“Go to your car. It’s closer!” Reese yelled.
Still laughing, Holly ran with her head down. “I’m so frickin’ cold. How did it get cold so fast?”
“I don’t know. It never rains here. What the hell?”
Holly saw her red Mercedes convertible and yelled, “Shit!” The top was down. The car sat open and exposed like a giant water barrel.
“Oh, my God!” Reese shrieked through her laughter. “Quick. Get it up! Get it up!” She opened the passenger door and sat down. Rain continued to douse her.
Holly’s keys slipped from her hand. She dropped to her knees and searched the ground. Her wet hair hung heavy, plastered across her eyes. One side of her skirt had slid back down, partially covering pink panties. “I can’t find the keys. Help! Shit! Fuck! Damn it! Where did they go?”
Reese laughed hysterically. “Stop! Cut it out! I’m going to pee my pants.”
“We’re so wet, no one will notice. Wait! Don’t. Not in my car.” She fumbled around on the ground. “Ah-ha. I’ve got them!” Holly stood up, tossed her shoes into the back seat, and fired up the car.
“Get the top up!” shouted Reese. She reached across the driver’s seat, pressing against Holly’s firm breasts for the button to operate the top. In an instant, a compartment opened in the back of the car and the top smoothly and silently unfolded into place.
Holly leaned forward, one arm across her abdomen, catching her breath from running but mostly from laughing so hard. Steam filled the car, making it impossible to see in or out of the windows.
“You look like hell,” Reese said. “There’s mascara running down your cheeks.”
Holly wiped drops of rain from under her eyes. “You’re not exactly runway-ready yourself.”
“We’re not going back in there like this. Let’s go home. Okay?”
Holly nodded. “I should go anyway. I think Quinn is supposed to be home tonight.”
“Supposed to, huh?” Reese scrunched up her face. “I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”
Holly maneuvered her sports car out of the circular driveway and onto Pacific Coast Highway. Rain fell hard and steady. She leaned forward, using her hand to rub condensation off the windshield. The Mercedes meandered across the center line and back into the right lane.
Holly’s phone rang, a few lyrics from Beyoncé. She rummaged through her purse with one hand to find it and glanced at the screen long enough to see it was Quinn calling. The car crossed the center line again.
“Watch out!” Reese screamed and grabbed Holly’s arm.
Holly looked up, straight into the headlights of an oncoming car. She yanked the steering wheel to the right. Her phone sailed into the door. The muscles in her arms and neck automatically grew rigid, bracing for impact. The other car swerved sharply to get out of her way, avoiding a head-on collision. They heard the crunch of metal bending and the screech of it tearing away as the back ends of the cars collided and one ricocheted off the other. Holly slammed on the brakes. Her gaze flew to her review mirror in time to see the other car spin around, veer off the side of the road, and disappear over the dark embankment.
The Mercedes came to a stop in the break-down lane. They were alone on the road.
“Oh. My. God,” Holly’s entire body trembled. An intense and horrifying alertness followed. She could feel her heart pounding in her temples.
“What are you doing? You can’t stop here!” Reese said.
“That car just flew off the side of the road. We have to see if they’re okay.” Holly’s voice rose with her panic.
“Wait. How much did you drink?”
“I don’t know. Not much. A few mixed drinks? I’m not drunk. It was an accident.”
“You had at least three drinks. And pills. You were looking at your phone. We’ll both be blamed for this. They’ll make us use a breathalyzer and take a urine test. You’ll have a mug shot. My boss will find out about it. I don’t want to lose my job.”
Holly stared blankly ahead at the road. The windshield wipers slashed back and forth in silence. She tried to figure out what to do, but it was impossible with her heart beating madly in her chest like she’d snorted way too many lines. She reached for the door latch. “We have to check and see if someone needs help.”
“No. We don’t.” Reese wrapped her fingers tightly around Holly’s wrist. “It was just a fender bender. We have to drive away, before we’re both arrested and taken to jail.”
Cars whizzed past on both sides of the road, none of them aware of what had just occurred. An image of Quinn flashed into Holly’s maze of frantic thoughts. How would he feel about bailing her out of a jail cell tonight? He always did the right thing. He was all about saving people. He would have jumped from his car and ran across the street the minute it happened.
“I’m sure they’re calling for help on their phone right now, if they need it. Please, just drive away. I don’t want you to catch the blame for this. It wasn’t really your fault. It was raining and no one could see well, but that’s not how it will play out in a court room.”
Holly swallowed the lump in her throat and shifted the car into drive, but kept her foot on the brake.
Reese looked out the back window. “The police might be here any minute. Let’s go. Drive.” She released her grip on Holly’s wrist like it was a done deal.
Holly pressed her foot on the gas pedal and drove, feeling suddenly sober and anxious. They remained silent until they were a few miles away from Reese’s apartm
ent.
“It stopped raining,” Reese said, as if they could have a normal conversation.
“Did that really just happen?”
“Just forget about it.”
“My car is damaged.”
“We’ll look when we get inside my garage.”
Holly drove into the underground garage for Reese’s building. She parked in a lit corner and turned off the car. “I’m afraid to look.”
Reese got out and walked around the back to the driver’s side. “Oh, shit.”
“What? Is it bad?”
Reese exhaled loudly, puffing out her cheeks. “It’s obvious you’ve been in a wreck. But it can be fixed.”
“What does it look like?”
“The back thingy is sort of torn off and hanging down.”
“What back thingy?”
“I don’t know what it’s called. Come look at it. It’s not that bad. I shouldn’t have made a big deal about it.”
Holly remained in the driver’s seat. “I can’t take the car home. Quinn is going to see it and ask what happened and…”
“And what? Figure out you hit someone and turn you in?”
“I don’t want him to know about any of this.” Holly covered her face with her palms and shook her head.