“The Israeli police will be here soon. We are going to get out before they arrive. You should come.”
“Allahu Akbar.”
“Allahu Akbar,” Abdul replied.
“I am Dawud.”
Quinn shouted. “Abdul. Now! Come on!” He shifted from one foot to the other, staring at the door.
David stood and rolled up his prayer mat.
“Tell your buddy to move his ass.” Quinn grabbed Abdul by the shirt and dragged him across the room.
Abdul shouted to David. “We must hurry.”
David slung a backpack over his shoulder and followed Quinn and Abdul. Adiba joined them at the door, and Quinn led them outside. The white van was parked with its engine running. Quinn checked inside — empty.
The Yanks were going to have some explaining to do.
They hurried to the Datsun.
“Uncle Hassan’s car,” Adiba said.
Abdul smiled. He had fond memories of the Datsun from their trip to Eilat.
“A piece of shit is what it is,” Quinn said. “I hope the engine will pull four people. Come on. Climb in.”
Abdul pushed Adiba into the backseat and squeezed in next to her. David rode shotgun. Quinn slammed the gas pedal to the floor and the car squealed in protest.
“I hope one of you knows the way to Hassan’s from here.” Quinn pulled onto a main road. At the first intersection, Adiba read the signs and directed him. The morning commute had begun, and Quinn merged with the workaday traffic — hiding in plain sight.
“Hey, you! Put your seat belt on.” When David didn’t respond, Quinn punched David’s arm. “Abdul, tell him. I don’t want any undue attention from the cops.”
Abdul spoke in Arabic to David. When he didn’t react, Abdul leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Dawud, put on your seat belt, please.” David still didn’t move.
“Nice job bringing that along,” Quinn said.
“Quiet,” Abdul said. He knelt on the floor and squeezed between the front seats, so he could look at David’s face.
“Now what?”
“Please, Quinn, be quiet. I’ll fix the belt.” Abdul reached around and clipped the safety harness in place. He stayed on his knees, staring at David and listening.
“What’s wrong with him?” Quinn asked.
“It’s extraordinary. He’s reciting passages from the Koran, whole passages. I don’t think he can hear us. He’s in a trance,” Abdul said.
“Great, now we’ve got a Jesus freak on board.”
“Wrong prophet, Quinn.”
“Huh? Whatever.”
Remaining between the front seats, Abdul turned to Quinn and laid a hand on the big man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I ran out on you at the hotel. Thanks for rescuing us.”
“Sure, anytime,” Quinn said. “I got you. Problem is I don’t know what the hell to do next.”
“Why don’t we just go home?” Abdul said as he flopped back into the seat next to Adiba. She squeezed his arm and beamed at him.
Quinn laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Shit, boy. They’d shoot you on sight. The world and its sister think you did the G20 attack,” Quinn said.
“What?” Abdul asked.
“Oh, brother. I guess that solves the problem of what to talk about for the next hour.” Quinn caught Abdul and Adiba up on the terrorist attack in Seoul.
“They think my Abdul did that?” Adiba said.
Abdul squeezed her hand. His heart skipped when she called him ‘my Abdul’. He liked how it sounded.
Quinn said, “You too, missy. According to the authorities, you two are the new Bonnie and Clyde. No one believes Abdul ran off to rescue you.”
Adiba frowned. “But—”
“And they have me pegged as an accomplice. Seriously guys, I wouldn’t believe us if I didn’t know Abdul. At one stage, even I began to doubt.”
Abdul checked Quinn’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He was serious.
“Scott Shearer’s the only friend we’ve got. But he’s in London, and I can’t call him on my cell because it’s being traced. Anyway, I’m not sure even he can help; we’re pretty deep in the shit pile. Excuse my language, Adiba.”
Then David spoke. “Nazar Eudon will help you.”
Abdul looked in astonishment at David. Firstly, because he had been listening, and Abdul had assumed he was off in another world. But more surprising, he spoke English with an American accent.
Quinn glanced at Abdul in the driver’s mirror, eyebrows raised. Abdul shrugged.
“Come again?” Quinn said.
“I have something of great value to Nazar Eudon. He will take any risk to obtain it.”
“Now you’ve deigned to talk to us, what’s your part in this, David?” Quinn asked.
“I am following Allah’s plan. I may not question the part I play.”
“Well, I hope you’ve got a direct line upstairs, because we sure could use His help to get out of this mess.”
“Have faith, Mr. Quinn. These events have divine purpose. Never try and second-guess Allah.”
They arrived at Uncle Hassan’s on the outskirts of Jaffa at 6:15 a.m. Quinn drove past the house and circled the block.
“You went past,” Adiba said.
“Just making sure we’re the only ones visiting your uncle. The police may be watching your family in case you show up.”
Nothing seemed suspicious, so he pulled up in front. Automatically, he touched his Glock; it was snug in its holder inside his jacket.
“Let me go first,” Quinn said.
Abdul watched the big man’s back as he knocked. Quinn had risked a lot to find him and Adiba. He wished now he’d taken the policeman into his confidence when he’d received the note at the hotel. Could that really be less than two weeks ago? So much had happened. He squeezed Adiba’s hand, and she responded. He gazed into her eyes. They were dark-brown pools. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement.
Yes. It had been worth it.
Quinn signaled them, and disappeared into the house. They followed.
Inside, Hassan grabbed Adiba and rocked and cried with her in his arms. He was chattering at her when something he said made her pull away.
“You found Lana?”
“Yes… yes. Mr. Quinn, he found her.”
Abdul and Adiba turned to Quinn.
“What? It’s not as if I rescued her from slave traders. I found her in a hospital.”
“Is she all right?” Adiba asked.
Hassan said, “The young heal fast. She’ll be okay in time.”
“I must go to her,” Adiba said.
Quinn looked at Abdul and gave a shake of the head.
Abdul took her hand. “Adiba, that’s going to have to wait. Quinn thinks the police will be watching your home.”
“But we haven’t done anything bad. I was kidnapped; you came to rescue me. I don’t understand. Why can’t I go home?”
Hassan touched a hand to her cheek. “The police visited your parents. They say you are a terrorist.”
“A terrorist!”
“Of course we didn’t believe them, but I think Mr. Quinn is right. If they find you, it will not go well.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Abdul wrapped his arm around her.
“Hassan, I need to make a phone call,” Quinn said.
“Yes, of course.” He pointed to the corner of the room. Quinn waved for David to follow.
“Time to find out whether you’re right about Nazar Eudon, David.”
“I am,” he said, and smiled.
Quinn dialed Keisha’s number.
“Ah, Mr. Quinn. Thank you for the excellent work in retrieving our property. I trust the payment was satisfactory?”
Quinn touched his jacket pocket. He’d forgotten the packet Mufeed had handed him in Jaffa.
“Does Eudon know a young man named David?”
There was a pause.
“David Baker is an employee of ours. Do you know where he is?”