The pilgrimage continued in Muzdalifa, where the Night Prayer was observed and twenty-one pebbles were picked up for symbolic stoning of Satan at Mina. Two or three days were spent in Mina for various ceremonies before the return to Mecca. Families who made the pilgrimage were allowed to add the term “hajj” to their name.
As a little girl Djamila had been especially drawn with anticipated delight to stories of the four-day celebration afterward, the ‘id al-adha, the Festival of Sacrifice, also known as the Major Festival. She had also looked forward to painting the mode of transportation she used to make the pilgrimage on her front door, an old Egyptian custom that other Muslims sometimes copied. However, Djamila had never gotten the chance to go to Mecca before her country had exploded into war. Now she doubted she would ever be able to do so. Indeed, she felt it very unlikely that she would return to her homeland in anything other than a coffin.
She packed her things for work and went down to her van. She glanced at the back cargo area of the vehicle. Hidden there was an add-on feature that the car manufacturer would never have dreamed of offering.
In the center of downtown Brennan, Captain Jack closed on the purchase of his new property, an automobile repair facility. Dressed in an elegant two-piece suit, the distinguished-looking “entrepreneur” took the keys, thanking the seller and his agent as he drove away in his Audi convertible. They had smiled and counted their money and wished him luck. Good luck to you too, he wanted to say. And good luck to the town of Brennan. It’s certainly going to need it.
A few minutes later Captain Jack parked his car at a curb, flipped open his iPAQ, went online and entered the chat room. Today’s film was The Wizard of Oz. He remembered watching it as a child. Probably unlike most viewers, he’d always sympathized with the plight of the enslaved flying monkeys. He left his message arranging a meeting at the park.
The auto repair facility would be one of the most critical elements of this operation, and that was where the woman came in. If she didn’t come through, none of his work would matter. Some things a person couldn’t get from faceless e-mails, like whether someone had the will necessary to do the job.
Sometimes you had to go see for yourself.
The day was overcast and a bit chilly, so the park was nearly empty. Captain Jack sat on a bench, read his newspaper and drank his coffee. He had spent half an hour making a careful reconnoiter of the park before ever leaving his car. The odds that anyone had him under surveillance were astronomically small. Yet one didn’t survive long in his line of work by tripping over the small but crucial details.
The front pages were filled with very important news: The stock market, amazingly, had gone up yesterday after having gone down the day before. American football was thick in the air; war on the gridiron they called it. Well, at least those who had never been in the real thing called it that. Captain Jack also learned that, shockingly, one movie star was actually leaving his wife for another movie star. And then he read of the revelation that a rock musician had been found lip-synching during a live concert. And that a car bombing had killed three Israelis in that never-ending struggle. Retribution would be swift, proclaimed Israeli officials. Yes, it would, Captain Jack knew. You didn’t screw with the Israelis. Captain Jack was a very brave, battle-scarred man. Yet even he avoided directly antagonizing the Israelis.
Buried in the far back pages of the newspaper, Captain Jack read how AIDS in Africa continued to kill millions. He next skimmed an article on how civil wars on that continent had claimed millions more. Half the world lived in complete poverty, stated another story. Thousands of children were dying every day simply because they had nothing in their bellies.
Captain Jack put down the paper. He was not much of a moralist; he’d killed many people in his lifetime. If there was a heaven and a hell, he knew where his eternal lodgings would be. But, really, lip-synching on the front page?
He heard the children first, but didn’t look in that direction. Next he listened to the swing being swung, and then the whirligig started going round and round. He smiled at the screams of delight from the young ones.
Finally, the sounds of the children quieted down. More minutes passed, and then he heard car doors open and close. Next he listened to the footsteps coming toward him. They were measured, calm treads. Then came a slight squeak from the bench directly behind his as the person sat down. He immediately lifted up his paper.
“I think the Steelers could go all the way this year, don’t you?” he said.
“No, my money is on the Patriots,” the other replied.
“Are you sure?”
“I am very sure of what I say. If I were in doubt, I would say nothing.”
With their identifying code out of the way, Capta
in Jack got down to business.
“Things are good with the Franklins?”
“Yes, very good,” Djamila replied.
“Routines all square, no curves thrown at you?”
“Their life is simple. He works all the time. She plays all the time.”
He caught the edge behind her words. “Oh, you think so?”
“I know so.” She paused and added, “Americans disgust me.”
“Do they, now?”
“They’re pigs! They are evil, all of them!”
He said one word in Arabic that froze Djamila.
“Listen to me,” Captain Jack said firmly. “A few Americans are bad and a few Muslims are bad. But most want to live in peace and relative happiness, make a home, have a family, pray to God and die with dignity.”
“They destroy my country! They say Iraq is united with Al Qaeda and Taliban. That is insane. Hussein and bin Laden were mortal enemies; we all know that. And fifteen of the nineteen 9/11 hijackers, they are Saudis. Yet I do not see American tanks roll down streets of Riyadh, only Baghdad.”
“Deposing a man they helped keep in power, I know. But Iraq doesn’t own a chunk of America as the Saudis do. Besides, all ‘great’ civilizations slaughter others who stand in their way. You can talk to the American Indians about that one. But if you want to hear about Muslim cruelty against other Muslims, go see the Kurds.”
“You tell me this. You tell me this now! Why? Why!”
Captain Jack’s voice was calm but still very firm. “Because the anger you mistake for passion is the one thing that could destroy all that we’ve worked for. I need you to focus, not hate. Hate makes you do irrational things. I do not tolerate irrational thinking, do you understand me?”
There was silence.
“Do you?”
Djamila finally said, “Yes.”
“The plan has changed. It’s actually a little cleaner now. I want you to listen very carefully. And then you will practice this new routine, over and over until you can do it in your sleep.”
When he finished telling her of the new details, she said, “Like you say, it is easier. It is the way I would go to the Franklins’ house.”
“Exactly. But we have to account for everything. On that day, if the Franklins’ routine varies for any reason, and it may, because presidents don’t come to town every day, someone will be standing by. You remember what you have to say?”
“‘A storm is coming,’” Djamila answered. “But I do not think it will be necessary.”
“But if it is necessary, then it will be done.” He said this sternly, in Arabic.
She hesitated, then asked, “And if the storm comes?”
“Then you will do what you were brought here to do. But if they catch up to you”—he paused—“you will have your reward. As a fida’ya.”
Djamila smiled as she gazed at a point in the cloudy sky where a bit of the sun was easing through. No one had ever referred to her as a fida’ya before.
She was still staring at this spot when Captain Jack left.
He’d learned enough.
CHAPTER
28
“I THOUGHT THE CASE WAS closed,” Jackie Simpson said as she and Alex drove away from WFO in his car.
“I never said that.”