Enemy Among Us-A Jordan Wright Thriller (5 page)

Chapter Seven

Leaving Siena after dinner, to return to his villa, Jordan’s mind went back and forth from the grand events of the Il Palio to what Gerhardt had told him and, finally, thinking what was so important that Max needed to come see him. At least the day in Siena and being part of the contrade that won had helped him escape from the dread of what the next day might bring.

Rounding the last bend, his villa lay directly in front of him. Nothing spectacular, it was run down, not having been well-maintained and the furnishings were worn. The agent had shown him so many other choices within his price range that would have been more comfortable and given him, as the agent described, the true Tuscan experience but, Jordan had opted for this villa. It fit him. It was basic, it was comfortable and, when he moved in, he felt at home.

He entered the villa, finding it as he’d left it the other day. He grabbed a Peroni out of the refrigerator and took a seat in the old comfy chair in the living room. The cold beer tasted great as it was traveling down his throat. The long pull resulted in half the bottle being gone in his first gulp.

He scolded himself for not stopping and picking up a newspaper. One might have revealed some information about what was going on in the world that would have caused the pending visit. His spartan villa had no TV, radio or Internet access. Most of the time, Jordan was grateful to be off the grid and somewhat out of the loop on the happenings in the world but, now, he wished he could have some modicum of information, to prepare himself for what might be coming. After a second beer, which was consumed almost as quickly as the first, Jordan headed up to the bedroom.

While he had expected a restless sleep, he was surprised to find he’d slept through most of the night and it was almost five o’clock in the morning. Quickly, Jordan decided to shower and take a quick journey to Sant’Antimo and go to Mass. It was a twenty-minute ride from the villa to the Monastery but, it always seemed to Jordan to take him back five hundred years. Outside the small village lay the fields, church and monastery of an Order of Brothers. Every morning, at seven o’clock, they gathered in the comparatively large Church and chanted Mass. Though their congregants kept dwindling, Jordan was always impressed that, even with the smaller number and the increasing age of the remaining brothers, they were still able to fill the huge space of the church with the most incredible sound.

Though Jordan didn’t understand Latin, he still felt the beauty of the experience. He found his favorite pew, to the left center of the altar, which allowed the acoustics of the Church to center right in that space. He would sit there and close his eyes and the most serene feelings would come over him. He felt as if he were floating, his mind becoming completely clear, devoid of all thought, except for the beauty of the sound that was enveloping him. It ended all too soon and Jordan found himself headed back to his car.

He was drove slowly home in anticipation that Max wouldn’t arrive until noon at the earliest, given flight schedules and travel time from the airport. So, he stopped at a small restaurant for breakfast. He was able to find the previous day’s Herald Tribune and scanned it to see if there were anything happening in the world that would explain the phone call and visit. He found nothing.

He slowed down, turning into the lane leading to his villa, noticing a different set of tire tracks on the dirt road. Possibly, the landlord had been by to check on him, as had been his practice every two to three days. Or, it could have been the local farmer who tended the olive groves surrounding the property and, on two occasions, left samples of his olive oil on Jordan’s doorstep.

He rounded the last bend and he saw a car parked in front of the villa. He didn’t recognize the car but, recognized the person standing next to it smiling at him. It was William Jendell, the co-leader from the Pakistan mission. How did they get here so fast, Jordan wondered as he parked next to the large Audi?

“Hey ya, Jordan!” William called, as he put out his hand. “Bet you’re real glad to see me,” he said with a shitty little grin on his face.

If William hadn’t been so good at what he did, and gotten Jordan out of a few situations in the past, Jordan probably would have just hauled off and hit him.

“Hi, William. How’s the leg.” Jordan said restraining himself from taking any action. “You got here fast; I wasn’t expecting you for another hour or so.”

“Leg’s healing. We brought a G-5 from DC,” William said with a smile, his right hand simulating a plane flying fast. “Came directly into Florence. You can’t beat it!”

“I guess not.” Jordan stated. “Where’s Max?”

“Inside, waiting for you.”

“Hmm, I thought I locked that door?” Jordan focused on the door, mentally reviewing his actions earlier in the morning. He knew he’d locked it, but also knew it was a simple lock and would have been no challenge for William and/or Max.

“You did,” smiled William.

Jordan walked into the house to find Max in the kitchen, standing in front of the open refrigerator, reaching deep into the shelves. “What in the hell are you doing in my refrigerator?” Jordan called, wanting to startle Max.

Max jumped.

Having the desired effect Max quickly turned around with the look of a teenager caught shoplifting. “I was going to cook up some breakfast for the three of us,” Max stated.

“Allow me,” Jordan said, as he pushed Max out of the way, reached into the refrigerator and grabbed the eggs, an onion, and some fresh ham he’d recently been given by the tenant farmer.

“I guess this must be important if you commandeered one of the boss’s planes to get here so fast. I thought I had at least until noon to make the place presentable.”

“There’s nothing in this place to make presentable. You are the only person I know who goes on vacation and stays in a villa that no one else would ever, ever consider renting.” Max ranted, touring the downstairs of the villa with widespread arms.

“I like it; it suits me just fine,” Jordan declared as he pulled out a skillet and began cooking the ham. He grabbed a bowl from the shelf next to the sink and cracked the eggs to begin the omelet.

“Let me bring you up to speed on why I’m here and what we need you to do.” Max began.

He silently chuckled to himself. Jordan always loved when he could get to Max. They had a love/hate relationship. He’d never met anyone quite like Max before. Smart, probably bordering on brilliant, but not brainy. Max was a strong leader, but not overbearing, and usually willing to listen to another’s point of view. But, Max always had your back. A maverick, willing to get into someone’s face if they were feeding too much BS in the process, Max had chewed enough people up and spit them out that most people within the Operations group knew not to mess with Max.

In another place, another time, Jordan probably could have fallen in love with Max. She was attractive, athletic of build, with shoulder length auburn hair, a killer smile and the personality to hold him in check when he needed to be. They had worked together for almost a decade, in all parts of the world and Jordan felt they had mutual respect for one another. There had been many a time when he thought he wanted more of a relationship with Max, but he’d never discussed it with her and never had he attempted anything romantic or sexual on any of the assignments when they had been together.

He didn’t want the complication; he didn’t want the complexity of balancing a romance with a working relationship. Jordan wasn’t sure it could have a happy ending.

“Where did you go?” Max asked standing right in front of him.

“I went down to the old monastery where they chant Mass.”

“No Jordan, just now, you were a million miles away, deep in thought about something.”

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking. And, no I’m not going to tell you!”

With that, he pulled the ham from the skillet and cut it into three pieces and placed it on the plates. He removed the omelets and placed one next to each piece of ham. Grabbing the plates he walked over to the table.

He yelled for William to come in and join them. Max gave him a look.

“I really don’t think anyone will attack us here. If they wanted me dead, you would have found me that way. Let’s enjoy breakfast out on the terrace.”

William came in and began to sit down. “Where’s the coffee?”

Max laughed, “Jordan doesn’t drink coffee and he doesn’t offer to make it. My guess is you are out of luck to find any within the villa.”

Jordan shrugged his shoulders and gave the “that’s the way it is” look to William.

“All right, Max. What’s going on? Why did you need to travel all the way over here to talk with me?”

“Something big is going on, we think.”

“You think?” Jordan got ready to start his typical rant; but, before he could start, Max cut him off.

“Jordan — just shut up and listen. I know we had promised to give you some time off and I hate like hell to have to interrupt your simple, devoted life here in Italy; but, you’re needed. I need you. Let me walk you through what we have so far and then we can have the discussion on whether this was important enough to interrupt your sabbatical.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Several days ago, a man of middle eastern descent walked into the FBI office in Philadelphia. He asked for protection and began to tell an incredible story. Most of what he told us, we haven’t been able to verify yet. However, it does fit with some other intelligence we have, including some specific hunches and insight provided by others.”

“Hunches. You came over here on hunches?” Jordan started to get up from the table, ready to end the conversation.

“Jordan,” Max said as she grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his seat. “They were your hunches. The thinking you have shared with us about long term cells in urban areas of the US.”

“Really?” Jordan allowed his eyes to bore right into her’s. He recalled the briefing he’d done eighteen months ago to a room full of CIA, DHS and FBI analysts. He’d outlined the scenarios in which immigrants could have been planted in the USA in the late eighties, to sow the seeds for terror cells to be used ten to twenty years later. As Jordan had speculated, these original immigrants might not be the terrorists. They would be model citizens, drawing no suspicion to them. However, their children would be raised to eventually take the role of launching terror attacks within America’s borders.

On that day, almost every analyst had scoffed at the idea. They said it was impractical, couldn’t be coordinated for the long term, the infrastructure needed would be too easy to identify and American intelligence and law enforcement would find such persons before they could do any harm. Jordan had almost quit that day. He felt everyone had their head in the sand and no one was willing to consider something that didn’t fit into his or her view of how terrorists operated. It was the most frustrating thing in the world, to Jordan. Everyone was always underestimating the intelligence of the terrorist leadership. Now, he also had Gerhardt’s validation that the theory had been utilized and more than likely been carried out.

“Jordan, can we get back to our discussion?’

“Huh, oh sure. I’m sorry”

“I know you were thinking about your presentation and the reception this idea received. So, yes, it looks like you were right, and that’s why I’m here and that’s why the Director gave us his plane to get here. It’s not just me who wants you back to work on this; the Director demands it. Jordan. We were wrong. You were right. But, we need to stop it. Can we get into the details of what we know?”

“Sure. Tell me what you have, so far,” Jordan stated with a quick shrug of his shoulders.

Max went on to explain how this individual made claims and provided information on how he’d been coerced by his government to leave his village to attend a meeting in the capital. During the middle of the week, they were quietly moved out of their hotel and taken to what seemed like a military base. They later came to discover the hotel they had been staying in had been destroyed by fire and each of them had been identified as a casualty of the blaze. In essence, they no longer existed. They then went through years of training, including English language classes, courses on American business, history and culture. They were paired up with a member of the opposite sex from within the program, and eventually given children to raise.

Over time, each of these “families” immigrated and, eventually settled in the Philadelphia area. They would socialize on a regular basis, to allow the children to get to know one another; and, over time, the children were indoctrinated into the beliefs in which their parents had been trained to instruct them and began to believe America was evil and they were those destined to right the wrongs of their people. The families were under the guidance of one man, who made all of the critical decisions. He would decide who would work where, the house each family would live in, what car they would drive. He also provided a monthly stipend to each family, in addition to the wages they were earning. He also assured that no one achieved a lifestyle that might give them too much freedom or bring undo attention to their family.