“A civilian? You think she was a civilian? After she tried to kill you? I told you the house was live, and I gave you permission to engage the targets.”
Heat rushed to his face. “What was I supposed to do? Shoot her? There’s never been anybody in the house before, except you and Deion. It’s always been training dummies. How was I supposed to know there was a woman in here?”
Eric glared at him. “You weren’t supposed to think, you were supposed to react. Besides, I traded out the ammo in your second clip. You didn’t even notice.”
John craned his head. Sure enough, the dummies sported bright blue splotches from the Simunition rounds. “How about that.”
Eric stuck his hand out to the woman. “Nancy? You can get off him now.”
The woman stood, still eyeballing him. He struggled to sit, his balls aching, and he finally managed to swallow.
Deion grabbed his outstretched hand and hauled him to his feet. “This is Nancy Smith,” Deion said. “She’s one of the head honchos.”
John took a deep breath while sizing her up. She was a looker, but there was something in her face. He felt it in the back of his head, in the primitive lizard part of the brain dedicated to the primal urges. She was dangerous. He decided to salute, and he held the salute while she glared, until she finally looked away.
He grinned. Score one for the guy with the aching balls.
“Nancy will observe your training,” Eric said. “She’s also going to work with Deion to teach you spy-craft. Now, do it again. Go swap out for the MP5 and we’ll reset the house.”
“Any more surprises?” he asked.
Deion snorted. “Always expect it, man, ‘cause in the real world, that’s all you’ll get.”
Smith entered his office, carefully shutting the door behind him. His office was located just blocks from the White House, but no one would ever suspect that its occupant was one of the most powerful men in the world. The bare gray walls were empty, no awards or commendations, not even a window. In fact, except for the large desk, steel briefcase, and computer, the room was barren. He sat and plugged in the video camera, connected the network cable, then initiated the video call.
He smiled when his old friend answered. “How is he, Hob?”
“As well as can be expected,” Hobert Barnwell said, shaking his head. “You’re taking one hell of a risk.”
“We need him. I need him. What if he discovers the truth before we’re ready?”
“It’s just a matter of time.”
He knew Hobert was correct. “We’ll deal with it when the time comes.”
“Speaking of, how’s your memory?”
“I don’t know, how’s your drinking?”
Barnwell’s smile hardened. “No worse than usual. Keeping tabs on me?”
“Of course. Victoria worries about you.”
“She shouldn’t. It’s under control. Quit avoiding the question.”
He can sense it. “I’m not a young man, Hob. I’m reminded of that daily. This must work.”
“I know. I’ll be watching.”
“Good. How is Nancy?”
“You can’t wish her well, Fulton.”
He wanted to yell at his old friend. “There is nothing wrong with her. It’s her upbringing.”
Barnwell leaned closer to the camera. “Biological or environmental, at this point it doesn’t matter. I’m not saying she can change, but if she does, it must be self-initiated. I’m speaking as a friend, not as a doctor.”
He felt the guilt pressing in. “It’s my fault, of course.”
“Yes,” Hobert agreed. “I thought we were beyond that. If you want to protect her, let her choose her own path.”
He glared at his old friend. “I’ve done exactly as you suggested.”
“That’s the best any father can do.”
Abdullah scribbled in his journal when Naseer entered with Fahad. He glanced up and was taken aback by Fahad’s deathly pallor, his clammy skin, his sweat-stained pato.
“Peace be upon you,” Fahad struggled.
“And upon you be peace,” he replied. “You are unwell,” he said softly.
Fahad nodded. “I am weak.”
“Will you be able to carry out your task?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “Naseer told me you understand your instructions. You are ready?”
“Yes, I am ready.” Fahad coughed, the phlegmy rattle deep in his lungs. “I have not taken opium. I am ready for Jihad.”
“Remember what Naseer has taught you,” he said. “You must perform your task with great care. Allah will be with you in this. We have arranged to send money to your wife. She will not want for food or shelter and your children will receive an education.”
Fahad’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, sir.”
There was soft footsteps as Koshen joined them.
Abdullah nodded and motioned him to sit. “Were you able to complete the preparations?”
“The men in Germany will be waiting,” Koshen said. “They are preparing for your arrival.”
“Very good. Please, stay.” He turned back to Fahad. “Will you pray with us?”
Fahad nodded weakly.
“Naseer, bring the mats. We will honor Allah and we will pray for his guidance.”
Naseer brought the prayer mats and placed them on the dirt floor. They performed Isha, the nightly prayer, Fahad barely able to prostrate. Koshen and Naseer helped him up.
He tenderly grasped Fahad’s hand. “Brother, I have faith in you and I have been honored to know you.” He smelled Fahad, the sickness and death that clung to him, and knew Fahad had a short time before the cancer claimed him. He held the dying man’s hand and gave silent thanks to Allah for sending Fahad to him.
Fahad bowed as deep as his fading strength allowed. “I won’t fail you.”
John sighed as Eric held up another type of explosives from the table and shook it at him. “C4,” John mumbled.
The days were now a blur, and the explosives training was just one more hour in an already full day of strength and weapons training.
Deion stood next to Eric, holding another block, yellow this time. “And this?”
“Semtex.”
Eric nodded. “Good. And both are a type of?”
He concentrated, but exhaustion made it hard to think. “RDX?”
“Correct,” Eric said. “And, how might you find Semtex?”
“I probably wouldn’t. They don’t make it anymore. Any Semtex I find would be left over from the nineties.”
Eric picked up a container of white crystals. “How about this?”
He examined it. “Urea nitrate?”
Eric glanced sideways at Deion.
“He got you,” Deion said. “I didn’t help him.”
Eric picked up another container and handed it to John. “Okay, how about this?”
John took the container full of light blue finely-powdered balls. He struggled to place them. They looked like laundry soap, but he instinctively knew that was wrong. He turned the container in his hand, but could not place it. “Uhm. I don’t know.”
Eric tilted his head. “You sure? You were on a hot streak.”
He struggled to remember everything they taught him. “I’m stumped.”
Deion watched closely. “You really don’t remember this one? Come on, man. You got to have an idea.”
He closed his eyes. Names tumbled through his mind, and just when he seemed on the edge of finally placing it, the name slipped through his grasp.
Eric nodded patiently. “It’s a common explosive, John. It was used here in the US a couple of times.”
Eric’s words did not register. Explosives in the US? He opened his eyes. “Sorry.”