Matt could barely understand the conversation as it bounced back and forth. His ears were ringing and his mind had morphed into a nonsensical kaleidoscope of sights, sounds, smells and images. He downed another beer, trying to stop the onslaught of images as Maha rocked him back and forth in her arms. Matt vaguely recognized Karl Mitchell and T. J. among the sea of faces; everything seemed surreal and disjointed. Sometime later, he opened his eyes as two older men joined the group.
The next day, trying to recall the events of that evening he couldn’t determine whether they had been real or just drug induced hallucinations. The strangers were introduced by Demetrie as true patriots of the struggle of the Palestinian people. Matt vaguely recalled something about an organization, a red and white keffiyeh, and two names-Mohammed and Yassar.
Washington, DC
The clock on the nightstand registered 6 A.M. when Nicole slipped into bed with him. “I couldn’t sleep very well without you,” she confessed, wrapping her arms around his warm body.
“I tried to read my journal,” Matt said groggily, rolling over and caressing her hair. “I must have fallen asleep. I don’t recall much.”
They kissed, seeking each other’s caress. A few moments later Matt fell back asleep. “Boy, have I got a great effect on men.” she murmured, climbing out of bed. Her toe struck the leather journal on the floor. She picked it up and silently closed the door.
Elijah was rummaging around in the kitchen. “So how’s Prince Charming?” He put a pot of coffee on the table. Nicole tightened her bathrobe to ward off the early morning chill.
“Comatose,” she smiled, pouring herself a steaming hot mug and wrapping her hands around its warmth.
“It’s nice having you here,” Eli said, avoiding her eyes. “It’s like things used to be…”
“Thanks for the sentiment but we’re both a little old to be playing family,” Nicole said. “And in case you don’t remember it was never like this. You were always gone. Mom worried you’d disappear forever during one of your clandestine forays.” Nicole caught herself too late-she could see the hurt in the old man’s face. He turned toward the sink and rattled a few dishes.
Nicole went to him. “I’m sorry, Dad. That just came out. You’re right. We can enjoy the fact that we’re together now. Like I said to Matt the past should be filed in a dusty folder called ancient history.” She kissed him on the cheek.
“I’m going to have my coffee and skim Matt’s journal. Why don’t you take a shower and get dressed? I’ll whip up some bacon and eggs for breakfast. Then I want you to read some of this stuff before he wakes up.” Nicole gave him a gentle push out of the kitchen.
Instead of leaving, Eli walked over to the kitchen cupboard and reached in the back.
“I hope you’re not having scotch at this hour.”
He withdrew a manila envelope closed with tape. Her name was written on it. “This is for you to open and read in case anything ever happens to me,” he said. “I suggest you put it in a safe deposit box somewhere, but only open it after I’m dead.”
Tears welled up. “What’s this all about, Dad?”
“It’s my life. I’ve written it all down over the past few years since I left the agency. There aren’t many national secrets in there, at least not anymore. I wanted you to know where I was and what I was doing during those times I wasn’t there for you and your mother. You should know. There are also a few other things in there that could be useful.” He turned to go.
“Well it’s gonna be a long time before I ever need to read this.” She watched him walk up the stairs. The manila envelope bulged as it lay on the table.
Later that morning, Matt Richards strolled into the kitchen, clean and dressed. “I feel like a new man.” He sat down at the table and accepted a cup of coffee from Nicole. His eyes darkened as he noticed Eli reading his journal.
Eli looked up. “Hope you don’t mind, Matt? That was quite a year you spent in Beirut. There are several big names in here-Martin Thomas, William Fisher, Brian Walker. Thomas is head of the National Institutes of Health, Fisher’s one of the top guys at the National Security Agency, and Walker’s a radical law professor at Berkeley. At least he was. He was killed about a month ago while giving a speech.”
Matt’s coffee mug hit the table hard. “Brian’s dead-what happened?”
“It was in all the newspapers. It happened during a protest demonstration about a month after the suicide attack on the President. Professor Walker was addressing a meeting of Palestinian-Americans at the Long Beach Convention Center. There was a large group of protestors gathered outside. They were pretty evenly divided into two opposing camps. Anyway at some point the crowd got out of control and broke into the convention center. Some of the demonstrators had clubs and knives and quite a few people were killed. Shots were fired. Brian Walker’s body was found lying behind the lectern, a bullet hole in his head.”
Matt sat still, remembering his young friend, the energy and idealism he exuded. Please let it be a coincidence.
“Matt?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay? I shouldn’t have unloaded like that.”
“No, Eli. I needed to know.”
“There’s more.”
Oh shit. “So let’s hear it all.”
“I hang out occasionally with some retired FBI types. We have a drink now and then, swap bullshit stories and try to keep abreast of things. For old times sake.”
Matt nodded.
“Seems the two security guards assigned to Professor Walker mysteriously disappeared. Their families don’t even know where they are,” Eli said.
Matt rubbed his forehead. The stitches itched worse at the moment and his head throbbed.
“After reading this journal and hearing your story I don’t think Brian Walker’s death was an accident, or a coincidence.”
“So you think someone may be trying to eliminate all the people I was with in Beirut?”
“Looks like it.” Elijah sneaked a glance at his daughter.
“Do you think Brian was a member of a terrorist cell?”
“No Matt, I don’t. But he may have known enough from his Beirut days to get himself killed.”
“That means others could be singled out.” But who? And why? “I have to find them – warn them.”
“There’s also a chance one or more of them are a part of this cell,” Nicole put in.
“And,” Eli added, “there could be more than one group after you and your friends; the terrorist cell which doesn’t want to be exposed, and those hunting them.”
“After thirty-five years, how can I know which of my old friends might be involved in this?”
“Look, Matt,” Nicole said. “It’s impossible to know whom to trust. You could be walking right into a trap. You don’t have to do this. Right Dad? Isn’t there someone in the agency we could go to? Matt’s not equipped for this.”
“No.” Eli paused. “There’s a good chance the CIA’s involved or at least some piece of it. And someone high up in the other agencies may be part of this network as well. You have to understand that trust is a commodity with these people-it’s regularly bought and sold, according to the vagaries of global politics and the highest bidder. The only thing you can trust are your instincts.”
Matt nodded. “Eli, I’ve been thinking about this. The best person to start with is Dr. Thomas. And he lives and works right here in Washington.”
“I called his office at the NIH this morning.” Nicole replied. “When I pressed for an appointment his secretary blew me off.”
“Give me the phone.” Matt dialed the number and waited. He sipped his now cold coffee. “Hello, I’d like to get an important message to Dr. Martin Thomas…yes… Tell him that Dr. Wilson Richards, an old colleague of his, is in town just for the day…” Matt listened while he made circles with his finger on the table. “Yes, the heart surgeon…Dr. Richards would like to speak with him about the death of his son, Matthew…yes…” Matt put his hand over the mouthpiece. “She told me to wait for a few moments.”