She raised the barrel of the pistol and held it two feet from my head. My eyes followed the pistol up Keyes’ arm and into her face. Her stare was fixed on me, and the muscles in her jaw stood out. “Who gave you this gun?” she demanded.
“It’s mine. I had it in my office. Please don’t point that at me.”
She kept the pistol aimed at my head. “I never figured you’d own a pistol like this.”
“Why?”
“It’s a custom-made, Browning BMD, 9 by 19 mm. It had to cost ten grand. This has a fifteen-shot clip, and it was made in 1998, when it took a dealer’s license to buy it. Until 2004, only the ten-in-a-clip models were sold to the public. You didn’t buy this gun. So, now, you want to tell me how you really got this?”
“Considering the line of work your presently in, I’m not shocked you know that.”
According to what she just said, the gunman in my office shot at me thirteen times. Thank God there were fifteen bullets in the clip. The last two shells had taken the second killer’s life and saved mine. Avoiding her question, I said, “Someone in my office tried to kill me with it this evening at about seven. He failed. I got the gun. Satisfied?”
“Who tried to kill you?”
“What difference does it make?” I said.
I had been told by Harris to play it cool, but I couldn’t help it any more. I turned the heat up on her. I had to have the truth. “I’m not so sure about your CIA story.” I paused. “And why don’t you tell me about your connection with Waters?”
To my surprise, instead of pressing me for an answer to her question, she answered mine. “He and I were friends — or rather, acquaintances — for two months. That’s all.”
She turned from me, threw the pistol on the couch, and walked to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. I looked at the gun with more respect than I previously had.
From down the hall, I heard Keyes begin to cry. I went to her room. The door wasn’t closed and I didn’t knock. She was lying face-down on her bed, sobbing uncontrollably.
“You okay, Elizabeth?” I said as I sat down on the bed and laid my hand on her shoulder.
She turned over and looked at me through her tears. “That’s one of Farok’s guns! Omar Farok, the ISIS commander! The bullets in that gun were meant for me. I’m the one they were after. My deadline is over, and it’s only a matter of time before I’m dead!”
“Then, you’re Celena?”
“Yes. I lied to you.” She burst into tears and held me tightly. “I’m not working for the CIA. I work for Omar Farok. Farok is now ISIS. He’s the one planning the attack. I met him when I worked as a courier in the Middle East. He was the pilot who flew me back and forth between Damascus, Yemen, Kandahar, and Syria. I was paid by Al Qaeda. I even went through two months of military training with them. But I was only a courier, never a soldier. But you have to believe me. I don’t want anybody to die. I’m just doing this one thing, and then I’m going to hide in South America.”
“You can’t just give them information that could cause the deaths of thousands and then just run away.”
“I have no choice! They’re going to kill me if I don’t help them. I have a contract on my head!”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“Well, you can believe this: The assassin that came to your office for me, wasn’t going to shoot me there. He was going to take me to Omar.”
“What does Farok want with you?”
“He likes to watch his bodyguards rape and torture women. They cut a woman to pieces before she dies. They killed my best friend like that last year. And I’ve heard of others. It’s horrible the way they’re killed, and I know Omar plans to do that to me. I’m so scared of dying that way. That’s why I’ve done everything he’s told me to do. I’ve tried to escape several times, but you cannot escape from Omar.”
She cried as I held her close to me. “What about Waters and the missiles?” I asked.
“Waters is Alpha Charlie.”
“I had a feeling, but still—”
“It’s true. He’s a highly paid hit man. Omar and his group are going to send Silkworm missiles to destroy his control station when I find it, and I think it’s somewhere around the hospital. If I don’t find it soon, they’ll probably kill me and just bomb the whole town.”
“That makes a lot of sense. We use to play video games for days. I’ll bet Waters is good with drones. But do you really think the drone controls are in the hospital?”
“Yes… No… I don’t know. I’m not sure. Maybe we were wrong. If I tell them the controls are in the hospital and they’re not, they’ll be even harder on me.”
“How can you do this? By not going to U.S. authorities, a lot of people will be killed.”
“I don’t know! I don’t want to hurt innocent people, you have to believe me!” she cried. “But if I find the drone control center and report Waters’ whereabouts to them, I’ll be free! If I don’t, they’ll be after me for the rest of my life or until they catch me and torture me to death!”
I pulled her into my arms and held her. As we rocked together, I whispered into her ear, “We’ll find Alpha Charlie and make things right. And somehow, we’ll stop them from firing their missiles. I promise.”
“That’s why I couldn’t tell you this earlier. They’ll kill you, too, just the way they’ll kill me. It’s so horrible, you can’t imagine. It’s not like they’re directed by ISIS; Farok’s men are Congolese and do things like ancient tribesmen did centuries ago. They are known to slice off pieces of victims and eat them while the victim watches. Can you understand why I’m so afraid?”
I sat on the bed and held her tightly. I understood her fear of Farok and her need to save herself. “You kept me from killing myself. Now, it’s my turn to save you.”
Exhausted, we slept fitfully through the night.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
As we lay in her bed together, Keyes’ computer suddenly emitted a short musical alarm. She jumped out of bed and began reading a message on the screen. She turned to me and spoke fast. “To prove to you that I’m telling the truth, read this.”
DRONES ARE ACTIVE. PAST HISTORY SAYS HE WILL KILL IN THE NEXT EIGHTEEN HOURS. ACCELERATE YOUR SEARCH. THIS IS YOUR ONE LAST CHANCE OR YOU WILL BE ELIMINATED.
“Is this from Farok?”
“Yes.”
“Is he the one who gave you the watch?”
She nodded her head and wiped her eyes. “It was his money that paid your bail.
“You paid my bail?… Using that pig’s filthy money?” She dropped her head and just nodded. “The house in Chapel Hill was yours and Simpkins’, right?
“That was to be my safe house. But the Pakistanis came and set up operations there. Simpkins never actually stayed at the place. Then, Farok rented a farm in Ellsburg for me to set up my computer stuff. I went to the Emmaus Church house once — to instruct Simpkins on where to plant his mics and take photographs. Farok hired him to help me find drone control.”
“Did you ever meet Hormand?”
“Why do you ask?”
“When I was looking through your things, I saw a photograph of an old, balding man in Arabic dress.”
She laughed and looked away from me. “Yes. That was Hormand, but I saw him only once, at a party with Omar.”
“So how did Waters get involved in all this?”
“Omar learned that Waters was the main drone operator in Afghanistan and Pakistan, and he paid me to get to know more about him. I told you that Waters and I were acquaintances. That was a half-truth. In actuality, as part of my mission for Omar, I dated him a few times. I convinced Waters to get me the job in your office so I could be close to him. He thought it was to date him more, but in reality, it was really just so I could keep an eye on him and locate his drone operation. Since I’ve been here, I’ve tried to call him and see him, but he won’t even talk to me.”