36: A Novel (20 page)

But what if the cops got here too early and interrupted me?  Stopped me from completing my job?  That wouldn’t be good.  The attack tomorrow morning would be stopped, but the timeline would be screwed up.  And there was a chance some of the terrorists would escape.  Live to fight another day.  No.  I wasn’t going to allow that to happen.

“What do you want?”  The woman asked quietly.

She had raised her eyes and stared into mine.  I was surprised to see more than fear reflected in her face.  There was also anger.  She was pissed off in addition to being scared.  Did that make her more or less of a problem?

“Right now, I want you to be quiet and get on the bed,” I said, gesturing with my head.

“Fuck you,” she breathed, eyes hardening.  “You’re not getting me on the bed.  Kill me if you want, but that’s not going to happen!”

She slowly released the handle for the suitcase and turned until she was squared off with me.  Her eyes flashed, but she remained perfectly still once she had repositioned herself.

“Lady, that’s the last thing I want from you,” I said in exasperation.

“Why?  What’s wrong with me?”

I was stunned at the question.  This was either one very strong and brave woman, or she was certifiable.  At the moment, I wasn’t quite sure which to think.  My bewilderment must have been apparent even with my face covered.  After watching my reaction for a few seconds she actually laughed.  Actually fucking laughed at a masked man pointing a rifle at her head.

“OK,” she said after a pause.  “I’m going to take a seat.  Then you’re going to tell me what you want.”

Cautiously, she moved the few steps to the bed and sat on the edge.  She was barefoot, like I had suspected.  She was wearing a tight skirt that ended a couple of inches above her knees and lots of tanned leg was exposed when she crossed them.  A small tattoo on the outside of her left ankle caught my eye, probably because of the slender, gold chain she wore.  I didn’t know exactly what it was, but had seen it on a few combat medics in Iraq.

“Army?”  I asked, nodding at the tattoo.

She looked down, probably having forgotten it was there, then met my eyes and nodded.  Long, blonde hair swished softly against a silk blouse when she moved her head, and I had to force myself to not get lost in her big, blue eyes.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” she said.  “That much is obvious.  You would have by now if that was what you had in mind.  And you don’t want to rape me.  And since I haven’t even moved in yet, just rented this place this morning, there’s nothing here for you to steal.  You don’t seem like you’re crazy.  So what’s your deal?”

I stared at her for a long beat, weighing my options.  Finally, I made a decision.  Lowering the rifle, I moved to stand in front of the open bedroom door to prevent her from making a break for freedom.  For some reason I didn’t think she was going to, but maybe she was a really good actress.

“I’m sorry,” I began.  “The apartment was supposed to be empty.  I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here.”

She looked at me and made a “get on with it” gesture by rolling the fingers on her right hand in the air, miming a wheel turning.

“There’s an apartment in the building where a group of terrorists are meeting.  They’re planning an attack on an elementary school tomorrow morning.  Want to kill as many children as they can.  I’m here to stop them, and I was using this place to wait for the right moment to start my assault.”

“Bullshit!”  She said immediately.  “If that was true, the cops and FBI would have about two hundred men ready to go in and take them down.  They wouldn’t send one guy.  I’m not stupid.  Don’t insult me.”

“I’m not a cop or with the FBI,” I said, shaking my head.  “I do work for the government, and I’m telling you the truth.  As far as why I’m here by myself… well, it’s kind of complicated.  All I can say is that there’s a reason for keeping this quiet.”

“So you’re by yourself, going to go after an apartment full of what I assume are armed terrorists.  What are you?  A SEAL or something?  Johnny Badass, going to take out all the bad guys single handed?”

“Something like that,” I mumbled, blushing under the mask at her comments.

“Say I believe you,” she said.  “When is all of this supposed to happen?”

I held up a finger for her to wait and reached into a small pack for the iPad.  She tensed slightly when my hand disappeared from sight, but she hid it well.

“Seventy-three minutes from now,” I answered after checking the timer.

 “So, seventy-three minutes from now you’re leaving?  Going to go play Rambo?  That presents you with a problem.  What’s to stop me from calling 9-1-1 the second you walk out the door?”

“Jesus, lady,” I blurted.  “What the hell’s wrong with you?  Are you
trying
to convince me to kill you?”

“No.  I’m just trying to figure out what you’re going to do with me.  The way I see it, you don’t have a lot of options, and I’m not ready to die tonight.  Maybe I can help you come up with a solution to your little problem.”

I just stood there, staring at her.  She wasn’t crazy.  She was an incredibly brave and practical woman.  But if that tattoo meant what I was almost certain it did, she had already proven herself under fire.  Combat medics don’t have an easy job.  People talk about how brave firemen are.  Let me tell you, they’ve got nothing on someone who runs
onto
a battlefield to help wounded soldiers.

“Give me a reason to believe you,” she said, eyes boring into mine again.

I looked back at her, not knowing what to do.  This scenario was so far removed from all of the training situations I’d gone through, I was on my own.  Had to trust my own judgment and hope I was making the right choice.

Choices.  Johnson and I had talked about choices until I was sick of the topic.  But it had helped.  He’d gotten me to start thinking beyond the immediate consequences of a course of action.  Taught me to look at the long term impacts, weigh them against each other.  Critical thinking, he’d called it.  And that’s what I did.  Or at least thought I did.  Maybe I was doing it all wrong, but after almost a minute of silence I reached up and removed the mask, exposing my face.

“You’ve served your country.  You’ve seen combat, and I’m willing to bet you’ve lost just as many wounded men as you’ve saved.  You understand the threats we’re facing.  And you understand there’s only one way to combat it.  Head on.  No mercy, because none will be given.  All they want is to kill us.  Wipe us out.  Am I wrong?”

It was quiet in the bedroom for a long pause.  In that interim, she didn’t break eye contact with me.  Just stared as if she could look into my soul.

“You’re not wrong,” she said in a much less aggressive voice.

“Then help me,” I said.  “I’ll be out of your hair in just over an hour.  All I’m asking is that you stay quiet and don’t call the police after I leave.  That’s all.”

“How do I know you’re who you say you are?  What if you’re a mafia hit man, here to kill some witness?  Or an enforcer for a drug cartel, hunting a dealer who crossed your bosses.  Maybe just a jilted ex-boyfriend out for a little revenge.”

I sighed in frustration.  She was right.  I couldn’t prove I was who I said I was.  Couldn’t prove I wasn’t any of the things she had just listed.  Glancing at the iPad in my hand I noted the timer.  Less than an hour.  I was running out of time, and this conversation didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

“What will it take?  How do I convince you?”

“Got a badge?” 

She smiled, knowing I wouldn’t.  I shook my head.

“Then we’ve got a problem,” she said.  “I’d like to believe you.  But your story is too fantastic.  And if I don’t do something, that means I could wind up being an accomplice.  That doesn’t fit in with my plans for the future.”

I shrugged, not having any idea what else I could say to convince her.

“So how about this,” she continued.  “You walk your ass out my door and get the hell out of the area.  I’ll wait five minutes before I call the cops.  That should give you more than enough time to get safely away.  That’s the best I can do.”

I shook my head.

“That’s not an option,” I said.  “I’m telling you the truth, and I’m not going to walk away and let those terrorists kill a bunch of kids.  How about I knock you out?  I’m sure there’s something in this suitcase I can use to tie you up.  You might get free, but I’ll be done and gone before then.”

I tapped the hard sided rolling bag with the heel of my left shoe.  It was heavy, probably stuffed full of clothing.

“You can try,” she said, eyes flashing again.

This wasn’t getting us anywhere.  I’d already told her more than I should have.  And it wasn’t working.  She didn’t believe me.  I needed to move this along and get refocused on the mission. 

Ready to step forward and slam the rifle butt into the side of her head, I stopped myself before revealing what I was thinking.  There was another option.  Not a good one, but better than hurting this woman.  Unlike the movies, a blow to the head isn’t very safe.  Sure, you can knock someone out if you hit them just right and just hard enough, but what if you hit them too hard?  I didn’t want to risk severely injuring her.

“OK, here’s what we’re going to do,” I said.  “I’m fast running out of time.  Out on the kitchen counter is a phone book and a land line phone.  We’re going to walk out to the kitchen and you’re going to look up the number for the FBI.  You’re going to call it and ask for Special Agent William Johnson.  You should probably tell them it’s an emergency, a matter of life and death, so they put you through to him rather than wanting to take a message.  Once you have him on the line, he can verify I’m telling you the truth.  Fair enough?”

She looked at me in surprise, tilting her head to the side as she inspected the expression on my face.

“I must say, you are convincing,” she said, pausing and thinking before continuing.  “OK.  If the FBI confirms you’re telling the truth, I’ll stay out of your way.  Won’t call the cops or do anything to interfere.”

“Let’s go then,” I said, moving the suitcase out of the way and taking a step back into the hall as she stood and straightened her skirt.

“But if you try anything… try to call 9-1-1 instead of the FBI’s number, or anything else foolish, you won’t leave me a choice.  I’ll have to hit you and restrain you.  Please don’t make me do that.  I wouldn’t like it.”

“I’ll be good,” she said, walking slowly towards me.

25

I walked backwards down the hall, not taking my eyes off the woman.  Coming to a stop, I placed myself between her and the front door, waving her into the kitchen.  After the training I’d received, a kitchen is the last place in a residence I’d want a potential adversary to be.  Too many things for them to grab and use as a weapon.  But I’d already searched this one and knew it was empty.  Except for the half dozen bulging grocery bags sitting on the counter next to a large purse.

“Don’t reach for the purse or any of the bags,” I cautioned her.

She ignored me and gently moved the phone off the book and flipped it open without picking it up.  It didn’t take her long, and I made her step away so I could see the number she’d found.  I wanted to make sure I knew she was actually calling who she was supposed to be calling.

Nodding, I stepped a few feet away and watched as she punched the digits in and lifted the handset to her ear.  After what couldn’t have been more than two rings, she began talking, asking to speak to Special Agent William Johnson.  Just as I’d instructed, she told the operator that it was an emergency and lives were in the balance.

“I’m on hold,” she said, pulling the phone away from her ear so I could hear the sappy music that was playing.

It took most of five minutes, neither of us saying anything, but the other end was finally picked up.  She listened closely to what was said before speaking.

“Agent Johnson, I have a man in my apartment, holding me at gunpoint.  He claims that you know who he is.”

“Give it to me,” I said, extending my left hand.

She stepped away and turned so the handset was on the opposite side of her body. 

“He hasn’t told me his name.  All he’s said is that he’s here to stop a terrorist attack on a school.”

She listened for almost a minute, turning and looking me up and down.  I suspected he was describing me to her.  There was a brief discussion, then she held the phone out towards me.

“He wants to talk to you,” she said.

I took it from her and held it to my ear, saying “Hi”.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

Johnson yelled so loud I involuntarily held the handset away from my head.  The woman clearly heard his shout and a smile spread across her face as she leaned her ass against the counter and crossed her arms.

“No choice,” I said, instantly regretting my use of that word.  Choice.  “If the apartment had been empty, like I was told, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but I’m sure I will soon,” he said, the anger in his voice barely controlled.  “And, you’re in Downey, California according to the phone records.  How long have you been back?”

“A few hours,” I said, watching the woman watch me.

“When’s your event point?” 

“Less than forty-five minutes,” I said, checking the iPad.

“Good luck,” he said.  “We’ll discuss your choice to have a civilian contact me when you get back.  You can rest assured I’ll remember this!”

There was a loud click as he slammed the phone down on his end.  I breathed out a sigh and gently placed the handset back in the cradle.  Looking up, I saw she was still smiling.

“Believe me now?  And what the hell’s so funny?”  I asked.

“Yes, I do.  And it’s always funny when a big, tough guy gets chewed out,” she said, still smiling.

“So you’re going to help me?”

“If by help, you mean keep my mouth shut, then the answer is yes.  My house is your house.  At least for the next forty-five minutes.  Now, if you don’t mind, get out of my kitchen so I can put these groceries away before they spoil.  And if my rocky road has melted, I’m going to kick your ass!”