Agent of Influence: A Thriller (41 page)

“Absolutely.  I would not have made the pick otherwise. I would have been a laughing stock if the horse flopped. Who knows, maybe the virus that killed that horse saved my career. Maybe I was young and arrogant at the time, but part of me still wishes Desert Sheik could have run in the race that day.” Eddie nervously fiddled with his spectacles, adjusting them even though it was not necessary.

Anna studied him carefully. He was on edge, but that was to be expected. It is not every day that the government calls someone up to question him.  He would probably be just as fidgety if the IRS showed up at his door.

             
“Did you ever get to meet Mr. Kazim’s trainer?” She lifted her knee off the chair and stood up so she could pull her jacket tighter around her small frame. The covered grandstand was serving as a wind tunnel for the icy breeze funneling through it.

             
“No. Honestly, that was one thing I always thought was strange. He went out of his way to keep his trainer away from me and the rest of the media. I had his name, but he kept a low profile. He made Aman seem like a showboat.”

              “Do you remember his name by any chance?” Anna asked. So far, she thought he was being very cooperative.

             
“His first name was Aziz. I cannot recall his last name. I saw him wandering around the track on a few occasions. I tried to ask some questions, but his people would not let me near him.  He didn’t seem to have any interest in talking to anyone,” Eddie replied.

“Do you remember what he looked like? I know it has been a long time.”

              “He was a small guy. Skinny. He wore thick glasses with big black frames. The glasses looked like they were too big for him.” Eddie stammered before regaining his composure. “He looked like he could have been a jockey himself.”

It was the answer
she wanted to hear, so she continued the conservation. “Mr. Lauren, we have reason to believe that Aziz was a terrorist, or at the least, a facilitator of terrorist activities in Cairo. We do not know if Mr. Kazim knew this or not, but we are trying to verify as much as possible. Can you think of anything else from that weekend that could help us? Any strange things that either one of them did that did not make sense at the time? Please think carefully. There could be a grave threat to the new president’s life if Aziz has any friends left in this country.” Anna thought it best to dangle the possibility that Zachariah’s life could be in danger as a way to make him talk.

Eddie Lauren remained silent for an uncomfortable amount of time. He stared off once again into the empty space of seats behind
Anna. Eddie avoided Alex’s gaze, who was now watching the reporter with an intense look of his own. After a few moments Eddie turned his back to them and gazed out at the frozen dirt track and the empty grass infield, apparently grappling with some inner problem.  The long silence told Anna that he was not a spy, and certainly not any type of operative for Aman. If he were an enemy, he would not have remained quiet for the past few minutes. He would have had a cover story ready to go. Instead, he was drawing too much attention to himself. She had the impression that he had something to say, but was scared to start talking.

“Mr. Lauren, I don’t need to stress to you the consequences of lying to the federal government.” She
wanted to appear tough enough to scare him, but did not want to frighten him so badly that he would scurry into a hole, or worse yet, start asking for an attorney. She surely did not want to add kidnapping to her growing rap sheet either. 

             
“There is one thing I have left out from that weekend,” Eddie said as he continued to gaze upon the track. If he felt more comfortable talking while not looking directly at her Anna was fine with it. She was satisfied as long as his mouth kept moving.

“Okay. What have you got?” There was a hint of annoyance in her voice.

Mr. Lauren’s voice went into cruise control, telling the story in a hurried fashion that suggested he wanted to distance himself from it as quickly as possible. “I ran into Mr. Kazim at a dinner for all the owners the Friday evening before the race. I told him that I was writing a short piece about his horse for the next day’s paper, and that I was picking it to win. I told him I had followed the trail of his horse over the past several months.” He swiveled his head for a moment to look back at Anna before continuing with the story. “The horse came from an incredible lineage. Its roots could be traced back to some of the finest desert horses from the early 1900s,” Eddie continued as he turned towards the track again.

             
“I’m not interested in his abilities as a horse owner Mr. Lauren.” The agitation in her voice came back.

“Well
, I was,” Eddie shot back. “We talked for fifteen minutes. He was impressed with how much I knew about his horse. I asked for an interview for the following day. If, by some reason, his horse would have pulled off a victory the pre-race interview with the owner combined with my bold prediction would have shot my career into the next stratosphere.”

             
“Did he agree to meet with you?” Anna regained her interest.

“Yes. He told me to be at the stables the next morning at 3:30 and
he would grant me the interview. He even agreed to show me the horse. I slept in my car that night because I was so afraid of oversleeping and missing the interview,” Eddie said, and then stopped again.

Anna eyed him carefully. She noticed
his breathing was now coming in quick, almost forced bursts, as if he was having to consciously make the effort to breathe. Was he going to pass out?  His body went rigid, and he seemed to be willing himself to remain calm.

             
Eddie continued, “I don’t know if I even slept that night I was so excited. I got up at three and found an all-night diner to serve me some coffee.  Since I was already awake I decided to head on over to the stables a little early. It would give me some time to compose my thoughts and come up with a few additional questions for Aman. When I walked over to the backside of the track I made my way over to Aman’s stable. It took me a little while to walk the distance. Aman paid extra for a separate stable away from all the others. When I made it to his stable the light was already on, and I remember being mad because I was hoping to beat him there. I walked up to the stable. I think the barn door was already open. Then I realized something strange was going on. There was someone grunting inside the stable. It sounded like someone was doing some sort of hard manual labor, which seemed odd to me, so I snuck closer to the door and I peeked around the corner to see what was going on.” Eddie stopped again and his head dropped towards his chest. Another thirty seconds passed, then his head began shaking back and forth. He tried to focus and tell the story.

“What did you see
, Mr. Lauren?” Anna asked in a soothing voice.

Eddie Lauren regained his composure as best he could.  “Please under
stand, I’ve never told this story to anyone. It still freaks me out.”

“Go on,” Anna commanded. She wanted the information before he got cold feet.

“Aman’s horse was lying in the middle of the barn. It had slashes and stab wounds all over its body. The animal was covered in its own blood.”
              Anna’s stoic face hid the churning motors in her mind as she took in this completely unexpected piece of information. “Did Aman kill his own horse?” Anna proffered the question to him.

“No. One of his stable boys did! The boy was standing over the horse with a huge knife in his hand. The boy just kept on slashing away at the animal even though it was clearly dead. I was about to turn around and leave when Aman showed up and yelled at the boy.”

The story was now getting interesting to Anna. Numerous questions and scenarios raced through her mind as she tried to decipher what this could possibly mean. “Why did you and Aman lie about his horse? The story was that it died from an infection.”

Eddie was flustered
, and he involuntarily shivered. “Aman was petrified that if word got out that one of his stable hands murdered a horse he would never be allowed to race in the U.S. again. Honestly, I understood his concern. He was already an outsider at the track, and he fought like hell to get his horse into the race in the first place.” Eddie’s breathing slowed as he finished the difficult story.

             
“Did you ever get the boy’s name?” Anna asked.

“No, Aman said he was a troubled youth from the streets of
Cairo. He wouldn’t divulge anything more than that.”

             
“So you just kept your mouth shut all these years out of the kindness of your heart?” Anna eyed him skeptically.

Eddie wilted under the glare. “I do receive a small package every few years with a large amount of cash in it. It’s never addressed except with a note that
says something to the effect of ‘Thank you for your friendship and your silence. It will always be appreciated,’” Eddie said, reciting it from his memory as best he could.

“How much money does he send you?” Anna asked. Now she was fully engaged in the story.

              “Roughly a thousand each time. Sometimes a little more.  I really don’t see the harm in what I did,” Eddie replied in a defensive tone.

“Did you help them get rid of the horse’s body?”

              “God, no! I stayed as far away from that stable and Aman as I possibly could after that morning. Ignorance is bliss. He called my home the day after the race to thank me for my cooperation. He assured me that I would be rewarded for my assistance in the matter. Oh, I do have a few items you might like to see.” Eddie said it as an afterthought. He reached inside his winter jacket and yanked out a manila envelope.

Anna tensed for a brief second before relaxing again, letting go of the butt of the silenced pistol stashed inside her jacket.

Eddie saw the tense expression on her face and realized the danger he had put himself in. “Shit, sorry.” His hand started shaking as he offered her the eight-by-ten envelope.

        Anna took the envelope and tore it open. She pulled out several faded photographs and stared at them in silence. “Did you take these?” Anna asked. She remained outwardly calm as she analyzed the photos.

“Yeah, I took them the Friday night before the race. It was the only group photo I could get Aman to do. I told him I would need one if I was going to publish a follow-up article about him on Sunday, assuming his horse won the race, of course.”

             
“Do you have the negatives?”

“No, one of Aman’s bodyguards came by a few days after the race and picked up the negatives. Paid me very well for them. I had already developed these two photos. For some reason I wanted to hold on
to a couple copies. He doesn’t know they exist. No one does, as a matter of fact.”

Anna studied the small group standing in front of the stable. She stared at Aman, his stoic face overseeing his little entourage. She immediately recognized Aziz A’zami
, as well. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground. There was a look of irritation splashed across his face that suggested he did not want to be photographed. There were a few people in the photo whom she assumed were Aman’s bodyguards, and several stable boys sitting on either side of Aziz. Each one of the teenage boys had the same deadly look that Aziz was flashing for the camera.

             
“Which one of these boys killed Aman’s horse?” Anna asked.

“This one.” Eddie pointed to the smaller boy sitting to the right of Aziz.

Anna continued studying the photograph. The youthful face glaring into the camera’s eye looked eerily familiar to her. She had spent too much time near him, and studied too many photos of him to be anything but absolutely positive about her assessment. She remained silent and reserved, but her finger pointed accusingly at the faded photograph. She traced her fingers over the images of the others in the photo, but continued to come back to the boy. The wild look in the teenager’s eyes looked strikingly familiar to her. She had seen those eyes before. Anna felt like she could see the inner rage boiling behind the vicious stare. The face mocked her, seeming to say that she was too late and that he could not be stopped. The stable boy in the picture, the one who killed Aman’s horse, was Zachariah Hardin, the next President of the United States.

Naval Observatory,
Washington D.C.

              Zachariah Hardin paced back and forth across the room while he waited for Aman to finish up his phone call. He was now less than two weeks away from taking the oath of office. Each minute seemed laboriously long as he waited for his moment with destiny. Would it ever get here?  He tuned out the feckless conversation Aman was having with the unknown person on the other end of the phone. It concerned arrangements for the numerous parties he would attend immediately after his swearing in. Zach could care less. He had no intention of staying at any of them for very long. He would have major issues to attend to as soon as he became president.

             
Aman had already taken the important call from their old friend less than an hour earlier. Jamal Mahmud was head of the Secret Service detail for President Gray, and he had officially received permission from his superiors to continue on in his position after the transfer of power. Jamal had asked for special permission to remain in place since he took over the position only two years earlier. 

They were now
waiting for Jamal to arrive to give them a quick briefing on the transfer of power.  Aman closed his phone in annoyance at the same time someone knocked on the massive mahogany doors that sealed off the room.

              “Enter!” Zachariah immediately barked the order. He was enjoying his newfound power.

Jamal strode into the room. H
is long, muscular frame strained every fiber in his navy blue suit. Jamal made his way towards his two co-conspirators. His toned body and shaved head made him look ten years younger than his real age of forty-three. Zachariah rushed towards him, and Aman pulled his obese body off the couch to greet him.  How long had it been since they had last seen Jamal? Zachariah had lost count.

The two agents standing guard outside closed the door behind Jamal. Once the doors slammed shut
a grin simultaneously burst across each man’s face. The Brotherhood of the Caliphate’s triumvirate was together again. They embraced each other in the center of the room. The group hug was thirty years in the making. Silent tears appeared on each man’s face for the briefest of moments before being wiped away with joyous smiles. It was like a family reunion after years of separation. Jamal looked at both of them and placed one hand on each of their shoulders before speaking for the first time.

“My brothers, the pieces are in place
. Our time has finally come.” They had been separated for so many years that they had nothing to discuss but the specifics of their one mission in life that each had been working on from different angles. They were the ultimate co-conspirators, and had finally succeeded in sneaking inside the heart of their worst enemy.

“Everything went smoothly then?” Aman asked Jamal.

              “Yes. I can continue on in my duties. Once the inauguration is finished, the transfer of the keys will occur, and we will be able to unleash our fury,” Jamal said in a hushed tone.

Zachariah grasped Jamal in another huge bear hug. He was unable to contain the years of pent
-up feelings that were now flooding out.

“I’m sorry. It has been so long…” Zachariah was overcome with emotion as he sat back down.

They sat in silence and enjoyed each other’s company before Jamal gathered his wits and spoke to his friends. “Our patience has paid off, and now nothing can stop us,” he said with finality.

Chapter 45

             
Alex sat quietly on the couch in the small cabin in Virginia, sipping bottled water and staring at the two photos side by side on the coffee table in front of him. The ride back from Louisville was unnerving. Anna spent the entire time studying the photo Eddie had given her, and re-reading all the background information they had gathered on Zachariah. She did not speak a word the entire flight.

Now that they were back, Alex finally understood why. She
had spent the time composing an argument, and now Alex was the first juror to hear the case.  The photo to his left was the one Eddie had given them. The photo to his right was one that Anna pulled from a national magazine that ran an article about Zachariah a few months earlier. The photo from the national magazine showed Zachariah at his graduation ceremony at Yale. Zachariah was huddled in the midst of a group of friends with the sun beating down on them. The sun was casting shadows in all the wrong places, and Zachariah’s face was partially obscured. Anna had touched the photo up as best she could, and now Alex was studying her handy work.

“Well
, I can’t be a hundred percent certain, but they sure do look a lot a like. If I had to guess I would say it’s the same person. Aren’t there any photos of Zach from his high school years?”

             
“No. That in and of itself is highly suspicious. Nothing until his college years. I know that according to his official biography he came to the U.S. at the age of sixteen, so he only had two years of high school education in the U.S. Still, I would think there would at least be a few more photos of him with his new father, or hanging out with friends, or something to that effect. There is nothing though. I ran both photos through some comparison software we have on the system here, and it gives a ninety-five percent probability that these are the same person,” Anna said as she pointed at the two photos.

“So, if this stable boy is Zac
hariah Hardin that means he arrived in the country illegally. That means the papers Aman produced to Immigration when he supposedly entered the country in 1974 are false.” Alex said. He hesitated before asking the question that should logically come next. “So the incoming president is an illegal alien?” He asked incredulously. It was a lot to swallow.

Anna ignored the question as she continued to think.  Why sneak him into the country illegally? If they put together the proper documents a year later to get him into the country, why didn’t they just wait? What was the rush? She guessed it had something to do with Aziz. The fact that he came into the
U.S. with Zach raised all sorts of red flags as far as she was concerned. Aziz never wanted to set foot on U.S. soil, and the fact that he arrived with Zach suggests there was a good reason for handling it this particular way. 

She finally answere
d Alex’s question, “Yes, he’s an illegal, but we really have no concrete proof.” She exhaled in frustration. The inauguration was just a week away. She felt tantalizingly close to something, but she could not nail it down.  The ringing of the phone interrupted her thought process.

She grabbed the cordless receiver and answered in a brusque tone, “Yes?” Anna listened intently. Her face turned ashen as she pressed the receiver harder to her ear. After a few minutes she hung up and continued staring at the floor of the cabin.

“What’s the problem?” Alex asked softly, sensing the tension.

             
“Sean Hill is dead. Malcolm is coming out to see us now,” she answered dejectedly before quickly disappearing into the back of the cabin. Alex returned to the photos and the reams of paper regarding Zachariah Hardin that were strewn about the table in front of him. For a second he thought he heard gentle sobbing coming from the back of the cabin before it abruptly ceased.

For the first time he felt the weight of an unk
nown pressure bearing down on him. Their research was quickly being replaced with real issues that would soon have to be confronted. What seemed like a crazy idea just a few days earlier now possessed a body of evidence mounting in its favor. A villain was appearing out of the midst, but they could not be sure how or what the real danger was. The fact that they could not grasp the full extent of the threat made it seem all the more omnipresent and sinister.