Jack Riley arrived at the hospital and managed to limp his way to the second floor. The nurse in charge kindly directed him to a room. He peeked inside. A patient was lying in bed gazing blankly at the ceiling.
“Mary, my name is Jack,” he announced softly. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.” Timmons smiled, the diazepam taking hold. “Are you a policeman?”
“Sort of, ma’am,” Riley answered, gently lifting her hand, careful to avoid the deep purple wrist bruises. “Mary, I need to ask you some questions about Kenneth Wory. It’s important.” She nodded once. He leaned closer. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“For the life of me, I don’t know,” her voice cracked. “I went next door to see if Kenny was hungry, and when I walked in, he came up behind and pushed me to the floor. He tied a rag over me eyes and dumped me in that tub. He never said a word. I couldn’t believe it was happening. Then he taped me up. It was all I could do to breathe. Is he… gone?”
“He’s dead, ma’am,” Riley said. “Would you describe him for me?”
“Why would Kenny do such a thing?” she whimpered, tears drizzling down her cheeks. “Such a handsome, nice lad. Always so neat and polite. He used to show me that trick with those coins.”
“Coins?”
“They was in me mailbox. Now they’re in me sweater.” She turned her face toward the closet. “Kenny always said he’d bring them home. I knew he would.”
Riley rifled through the pockets and found a small plastic case.
Amaze your friends
with
Scotch and Soda
“Ma’am, did Kenneth ever have any visit…?”
There was no response. She had drifted asleep.
Riley made his way to Ross’s room and found Griffin at his bedside.
“They say you’re going to make it, pal,” Riley said. “How’s the head?”
“It feels as if I’ve been kicked by one of your wife’s horses,” Ross managed weakly. He noticed the dried blood below Riley’s ears. “Are you okay?”
“My knees are banged up, and I can’t hear so well, but that might be a blessing.”
“Can I go back to the NTSB now?” Ross spoke louder.
“Be my guest. I’m finished with you.”
“Jack? That night at the Outback, you refused to tell me what goes on in the Florida Keys. Would you reconsider?”
“He’s all drugged up, right?” Riley asked Griffin.
“A little bit. But now I want to know too.”
“Paradise goes on,” Riley said matter-of-factly. “Come see for yourself.”
Ross struggled to sit up. “The terrorists. Did you get them?”
“Him,” Riley corrected. “It was one person using multiple false names. I doubt if we’ll ever know his real identity. We’ll have a composite sketch drawn up and share it with known witnesses. He was pretty much blown to pieces. Can’t say that I’ll lose any sleep over it.”
“Jack? Something else got blown to pieces,” Ross admitted. “Your fish.”
Riley’s face darkened, then brightened again with a shrug. “You did good, pal.”
“What’s that?” Griffin asked, noticing something in Riley’s hand.
“A coin trick. Apparently, our terrorist was into magic. It’s a circumstantial link, but right now it’s further proof that it was him. We’ll have it analyzed.”
Griffin placed her hand in front of Ross’s face. “How many fingers?”
Ross smiled warmly. “Are we ever going out on a date?”
She kissed his cheek and gently adjusted his pillow. “I’ve accepted a job with Fox’s DC bureau. Who knows? You might even get your shirt back.”
“I guess I’ll leave you two alone.” Riley winked at Ross. “I’ve got to tell the president that his country can start flying again.”
Chapter 47
“We must part ways, Faiz, but only for a short time. I assume your struggle is over?” Captain Riad Naimi said, handing Al-Aran an envelope. “You are now Habib Saloume, named from the rural village of your birth in Senegal. The real Habib served on my crew and was lost in a storm three years ago. He had no friends or family. You could be his twin. Do the authorities know you?”
“You might say that I managed to avoid the bureaucracy and fingerprinters.” Al-Aran set his pipe down and examined the documents. “Is Aljezur safe?”
“My friend, I am a man of faith, and I support your work, but I do not wish to know the details. I will provide everything that you require in life as a service to my brother, Ali. You will lack nothing. You may help raise my vegetables and assist with my animals. I have a small but reliable servant-staff. On my land, your time is your own. The town of Aljezur is filled with tourists who mind their business. No one will ask anything of you. You may walk among the stores freely or browse the world’s information in our Internet cafés. We have some of the most beautiful beaches on the Western Atlantic. Praia de Monte Clérigo has a fantastic view of the coast and a convenient lay-by where you may stop and admire the sea. The cliff tops are a mass of color in spring. The region is completely uneventful. It will be as if the old professor no longer exists.”
Riad glanced at his watch. “The Abuzenima sails for Lisbon today. After some business in Antwerp, I will return and we will both rest. Perhaps the time may come when you admit you have done enough for Allah.”
“Perhaps,” Al-Aran agreed. “But only Allah can determine that. In twenty-one days, I must travel to London. My work begins again.”
“As you wish,” the captain said, extending his hand. “May I ask you a question? The crew has noticed you in your cabin studying something late into the evenings. A large winged insect made of plastic. Perhaps a toy? You disassemble it and then reassemble it over and over. A hobby, señor?”
Al-Aran turned for the door, then paused. “Your farm, Capitán… what animals do you raise?”
“Goats and a small herd of livestock. A plentiful and local source of meat.”
“You are a fortunate and prosperous man,” Al-Aran praised. “You may take comfort in the fact that your meat does not come from America.”
Riley dialed his cell phone.
“Tom Ross.”
“I can’t believe you’re back to work,” Riley chided. “Tell the NTSB you need more medical time.”
“I did, and they went ahead and promoted me anyway.” Ross laughed. “They took the word acting out of my title. How’s paradise?”
“Congratulations, pal. I’m sitting under a tiki hut with a mango smoothie. Kissi’s flying down tonight on a private jet, compliments of the Secretary of Homeland Security.”
“That’s not enough. For what you did, it should be Air Force One.”
“I suppose,” Riley said halfheartedly.
“Jack, what’s wrong?”
“Mixed emotions. I just feel empty about the way things turned out falling into place the way they did. It seemed too perfect.”
“Do you have sunstroke?” Ross asked. “What’s wrong with perfect? You led a successful investigation that identified and tracked down a terrorist who killed Americans. You stopped a real threat that almost brought this country to its knees.”
“He did bring the country to its knees.”