by David Kersey
CHAPTER THIRTY
Soon after he ended the call with Marlene, John was buzzed by Gloria, ACC’s receptionist. “Mr. Christianson, the Sheriff is in the lobby and says he must see you immediately.”
“Send him up Gloria.”
“Sir, he wants you to come down to the lobby.” John grabbed his suit coat and left his second floor office.
“Hey John, I want to show you my new ride.” John knew that was not at all the case but played along. “Get in the car, it’s the only place in the world that may not be bugged nowadays.” John sat in the passenger seat and waited.
“I was doing some background on Robert Johnson. That’s Marlene’s husband who was killed in Iraq during Storm. Robert and Marlene were stationed in Saudi Arabia starting in 1990, which was also the year their son Charles was born at the base there. I was faxed a Saudi news article dated December 24, 1990. The article told the story of an American woman that was mugged and roughed up by an outraged Saudi who was not only anti-American, but also outraged that the woman was wearing a sweater with a Christmas tree on it. The Saudis have never condoned anything to do with Christmas, that’s a hot potato to this day. The woman was identified as PFC Marlene Johnson, the wife of an American soldier.”
“Oh, my God, Chip.”
“Wait, there’s more. The Post picked up the AP wire and ran a page six story on it. I located the Post reporter this morning after you and I spoke, a man named Curran, now retired and living in Iowa. He is a wealth of information about the Johnson story. Robert Johnson was killed in action two weeks after the mugging. John, it wasn’t a mugging, it was rape. She told Curran the whole story and she persuaded him to keep it out of the press. She didn’t tell her husband she was raped, only that she was mugged. Curran says she hid it from him because Robert would have gone ballistic at a time when the US/Saudi relations were getting nasty. Her husband was the type that would have shot up the streets had he known the truth. John, she became pregnant from the rape and she had the baby, which she named Robert. She shipped out in February of ’91 and returned to the States, and the baby Robert was born in Virginia on September 19, 1991. When she learned that she was carrying the Saudi’s child, she made arrangements for a Saudi family that had become friends with her to take the baby. Curran remained in contact with her for a few years before he eventually retired. He told me what he believes to be the baby Robert’s current name.” Chip reached into the center console and withdrew a sheet of paper. “Look at this, John.” A picture of an Asian on the known terrorist list. The man had light colored eyes and light colored hair and beard. “Curran told me the name, and look at this. Adnan Phalah. John, his middle name is Omar.”
John stared at the photograph and said nothing for a few moments. Then, “So do you think Robert Ophala is her son?”
“I’d put big money on it.”
“I need to think this out. Anything else to tell me?”
“I’m a cop, John. You always have to start with motive. That’s what you’ve got to find out, but I still am holding to the idea that she’s being used and her life may be in danger, and yours could be too. Oh, I forgot to add that Adnan Phalah’s last known whereabouts was Somalia. Keep the photo. It says a little more about him and why he’s on the wanted list.” Somalia was an area implicated in the bulldog ant attack, as well as the South Sudan.
“Chip, I have to keep snooping. I have to, I’m the CEO for Pete’s sake. The ACC name was severely tarnished during the attack last year and I owe it to the stockholders to put this to rest. Besides, I want to clear my own name in the eyes of those who still think I had something to do with it.”
John returned to the lobby and told Gloria he could be reached on his cell. He drove the Rover to the County Park and sat on a picnic table and watched families and lovers and teenagers who appeared to have no care in the world. Passersby looked at him strangely. A man in a suit sitting atop a picnic table and staring into space while holding a single sheet of paper, that is strange. Must be his dismissal papers, or maybe an obituary. “What is her motive?” John said quietly out loud.