Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Right under our nose,” Asher said with a shake of the head. “Jessica was right.”
“She’s always right.” Owen and Liam crossed the office to look at Asher’s laptop.
“This guy,” Asher said, pointing to his screen, “has a friend living in Arlington. He communicates regularly with her, and so it wouldn’t have triggered any alarms when Echo was watching them in Detroit.”
“Did he use the same code as Samir’s uncle?” Owen asked.
Asher nodded. “Yeah. He asked for a list of supplies. No time, date, or location, though.”
“Whatever Samir’s planning is in Virginia or D.C., I’m guessing.” Owen started for the door. “I’ll round up the rest of the team.”
Asher looked to his left at Liam. “Samir’s going to use an IED. Kill himself, probably. But where?”
“This was a last-minute change since his plans fell through,” Liam said. “I doubt he’s targeting any specific events now.”
“Gotta be a government target, given the location.” Asher pulled up a file on the woman in Virginia, and a few seconds later, Luke and the rest of Bravo and Echo entered the office, crowding the place. They stood before his desk, all eyes on him.
Not Jessica, though. Laptop in hand, she dropped down at the table off to the side of the men and started working right away.
“What do we have?” Luke asked.
Asher explained what he discovered and waited for a response from Luke. When Luke didn’t speak, he said, “If the Feds pick her up, we’ll lose our lead on Samir. So, what do you suggest?”
“If we withhold this intel from the FBI, they’ll probably arrest us.” Luke’s hands landed on his hips.
“I need to call Samantha. If it’s a D.C. hit . . .” Owen cupped the back of his neck and turned toward the door.
“Emily,” Liam added, drawing the team’s attention. “She lives there, too, right?” He coughed into a closed fist.
“The hit will be personal,” Jessica said softly, as if in thought—her mind calculating.
Asher considered her words. “Instead of combing through security footage at the airport in Cairo, maybe we check all incoming flights from Egypt into the Virginia area?”
“On it,” she said without glancing his way.
“How fast can we get to Virginia?” Liam asked.
“The drive will take too long. A commercial flight just as bad.” Luke rubbed at his beard. “Eva’s brother Harrison is in town. I can see if we can borrow his private jet and get a last-minute flight scheduled with the FAA.”
“Are we telling Rutherford about this woman or not?” Knox looped his thumbs into his front pockets and observed him.
Luke glanced at Jessica, but she kept her eyes on the screen. She removed a hand from the keyboard only to shift her glasses before returning her fingers to the keys.
“It’s possible the exchange was made. Samir may already have the materials needed to make an explosive device,” Asher said.
Luke nodded in agreement. “So we turn this woman’s name over to the FBI, and we focus on Samir and his mom.”
“Works for me,” Wyatt said.
“In twenty-four hours, this ends.” Luke whistled out a low breath. “And then we’re all taking a vacation.”
“You just took two months off,” Wyatt said with a laugh.
Luke brought his phone to his ear. “Yeah, well, I’m thinking I’m gonna need two more.”
After a few minutes, the guys left the office, leaving Asher and Jessica alone.
“You good with the plan?” Asher strode closer to where she worked.
She removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose before finding his eyes. “Yeah. We go to Virginia. Stop an attack.” Her tongue traced a line over her bottom lip.
“But are you okay with coming? With being so close to all of this?”
“I went to Austria, didn’t I?” She closed her laptop and rose.
“Yeah, and we needed you then—”
“And you need me now.” She crossed her arms, defiance glinting in her eyes.
“But if the ship goes down, I don’t want you going with it.”
“What does that even mean?”
He lifted his hands and edged a step away from the table. “We’ve broken Command’s orders twice now. Three strikes, and we might be out.”
“You think I’m worried about that?” She circled the table and stood before him.
“I also don’t want to see you getting hurt,” he admitted, his mind racing back to Berlin. To the s-vest.
“I just want this to be over.” She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, and he observed the movement of her throat. When her eyes raced back to his a second later, her pupils dilated ever so slightly.
He gently gripped her bicep, and her arms relaxed at her sides. His eyes remained steady on hers, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Years of banter, and now the words were stuck in his throat.
“I’m not ready to talk about . . .” She let her words fade into the air.
He released his hold of her arm and blinked a few times, worry about his own decisions cutting through him. He cleared his throat and shook his head. “That’s okay. I don’t think I’m ready to talk either.”
A chill blew down Asher’s back as he stared at the woman. It’d been six-plus years since he’d seen her, and he wasn’t sure if she remembered him.
But the narrowing of her brown eyes as she studied him suggested a glimmer of recognition.
“Why are you doing this?” Fatima’s English had improved over the years, but had she changed, like her son? Did she now support terrorism?
Jessica and Asher remained alone with her in the room at the safe house, just two klicks east of downtown Arlington. Luke was hoping she’d feel more comfortable around familiar faces.
“Do you know your son killed Ara?” Jessica’s arms were locked tight across her chest as she stood in a wide stance alongside Asher.
She swept her fingers through her long, dark hair. It was normally covered, but Samir must’ve asked her to lose her hijab to better blend in with the crowd when they’d arrived in Dulles yesterday. Either that, or she’d made the decision herself when they’d separated at the airport.
After identifying Fatima’s taxi, Jessica had convinced the driver to pinpoint where he’d dropped her off. Thank God, she’d still been at the motel in Virginia.
She was probably waiting for Samir’s contact to pick her up.
Jessica reached inside the computer bag by her boots and retrieved a set of photos. “He had her shot right in front of me—before her body was blown up.”
It couldn’t be easy for Jessica to voice those words, or for her to hand the images over to Fatima, but she did it. Somehow, she did it.
So. Damn. Tough.
“That’s all that was left of your niece.” Jessica’s voice was composed, and he knew she was doing her best to keep it that way. “He hired an assassin to kill her, and it’s your fault.”
“No.” She shoved the photos off her lap, and they fluttered to the floor.
“You pushed Ara to give you her location,” Jessica began, “and when she wouldn’t give it to you, you faked being sick to draw her out. What happened to you? To your son? What changed?”
The woman was quiet for a moment, her eyes dropping to the images on the floor. “I lost my husband. My brother. Friends. Cousins. And eight months ago, I lost my eldest son.” Her voice wavered, and when she looked up, her eyes brimmed with tears.
“And you’re about to lose your other one,” Asher said in a low voice. “He’s going to kill himself, and for what? For whom?”
Fatima’s lower lip trembled.
Jessica averted her attention to the ceiling in the small interrogation room. “He won’t even make it to his twenty-first birthday, because when the police find him—and stop him—they’ll put a bullet in his head. They won’t hesitate.”
Asher glanced over at Jessica. Her eyes were focused back on Fatima.
“Maybe you didn’t know everything he was planning, but I believe you don’t want your son to die.” Jessica’s booted feet edged closer to her, and she crouched before the woman. “Help me, and I’ll do my best to ensure he doesn’t end up in a body bag like his brother.”
Fatima closed her eyes. “The war has gone on long enough. There are too many bodies. No one to stop it.”
“And you think killing innocent Americans will help save Syrian ones?” Asher bit down on his back teeth, attempting to control the curl of anger wrapping tight in his chest, threatening to unleash.
“Samir was never supposed to die.”
“No,” Jessica whispered. “He planned a chemical attack, like the kind used on women and children by your own president. Samir wanted us to suffer the way your country has.” She stood upright and glimpsed Asher over her shoulder before returning her gaze to Fatima.
“But I don’t think it’s too late to stop him.
To save him.” Fatima didn’t speak, so Jessica continued, “I can’t begin to imagine what you and your people have gone through.
But killing people—your son taking his own life—won’t end the pain and suffering in your country. ”
“It’ll do the opposite,” Asher said. “It could make things a lot worse.” He surveyed the woman. Her shoulders were breaking into a full-on tremble.
“Someone has to pay.” Tears began to slip down her cheeks. “Who will pay?”
Jessica briefly shook her head. “I don’t know. But when I met you and Samir, you were good people. I saw it in your eyes, in the warmth of your gestures. You invited me into your home. We broke bread together.” She paused for a beat. “Don’t do this.”
Asher couldn’t take his eyes off Jessica as she spoke. His heart was drumming hard in his chest. She was getting through to her; he could feel it. He could see it in Fatima’s eyes.
But he could also see something in Jessica—forgiveness, maybe? She was allowing her emotions to guide her through the line of questioning, which hadn’t been typical of her in the past. Was she changing? Opening up?
“You’re not these people. Tell me where your son is so I can stop him from hurting anyone else.” Jessica knelt before her again, and this time, she reached for her hand.
The woman looked up at Asher, took a breath, and then found Jessica’s eyes. “You won’t be able to stop him, I’m afraid. He won’t back down for you. He’s still just a boy. It’s hard for him to understand his own pain,” she cried. “He’s hurting.”
Jessica stood again and glanced at Asher. He gave her a slight nod—knowing what she was thinking. “But, Fatima, maybe he’ll stop for you?”