Authors: Stephen Coonts
Liberty (21 page)
Habib was quick. As Anna walked from the room she heard her speaking to the man, then she followed Anna into the hallway.
Anna faced her. “I am your courier,” she said again, so low that she could barely be heard. “You must leave Cairo and come with me.”
Nooreem Habib's eyes widened. “Because of the CD?”
“Yes. Have you put another in the drop?”
“No.”
“Do you have a passport?”
“Yes. At home. I live with my parents, of course.”
“When do you get off work?”
Habib looked at her watch. “In twenty minutes.”
The man from the computer center opened the door and looked out. “At the coffee shop around the corner,” Anna said, then said in a normal tone of voice, “Thank you for your help,” and walked away.
She would have liked to have said more, but there was no time.
No time!
When Nooreem Habib entered the coffee shop, she walked over to Anna Modin's table and sat. The small room was rapidly filling with vociferous office workers seeking coffee and a snack before tackling the trek home.
Modin was surprised at the determined look on Habib's face. She didn't look like a woman facing the abandonment of home and family.
“You must come with me to America,” Modin said, watching Habib's face intently. “You may never be able to return to Egypt.”
“I understand. Yesterday I finished loading a computer file with the names and amounts of secret contributors to the fundamentalists'
jihad
. It was all there, names, dates, amounts, everything. I downloaded it onto a CD a few minutes ago.”
jihad
. It was all there, names, dates, amounts, everything. I downloaded it onto a CD a few minutes ago.”
Modin stared at the other woman. “After I talked to you?”
“Yes.” She opened her purse, showed Anna a glimpse of a compact disk, then closed the purse again. “I didn't realize that Ahmad was watching when I did it. Still, I don't think he knew what I was doing.”
Modin tossed money on the table. “Come,” she said. “There is no time to waste.”
First they had to go to Habib's home so that she could get her passport. They took a taxi, which crawled through traffic, bearing generally east. Modin and Habib sat in the back without saying anything. Anna thought about Freddy Bailey, wondered if indeed he would meet her with American tourist visas, wondered if Ahmad the records clerk was busy talking to Abdul Abn Saad.
The ride, Anna thought, was the longest of her life.
The Habib residence was an imposing single-family dwelling in a fashionable neighborhood. It stood directly across the street from the City of the Dead, a huge, sprawling cemetery that had been used to bury people since at least the ninth century. The cemetery was huge beyond belief, a sea of stones and monuments and crypts that
stretched away as far as the eye could see in the haze and smog. Around the cemetery were walls, with guard towers every few hundred yards. Atop the towers were troops with machine guns, yet the guns were pointed at the cemetery. The walls and troops were designed to keep the living residents of the cemetery inside. Some of the poorest people in Cairo lived there, tomb squatters, criminals, army deserters, the homeless, and so on. They had even built their own mosques in the cemetery, where the imams preached Islamic fundamentalism and
jihad
.
stretched away as far as the eye could see in the haze and smog. Around the cemetery were walls, with guard towers every few hundred yards. Atop the towers were troops with machine guns, yet the guns were pointed at the cemetery. The walls and troops were designed to keep the living residents of the cemetery inside. Some of the poorest people in Cairo lived there, tomb squatters, criminals, army deserters, the homeless, and so on. They had even built their own mosques in the cemetery, where the imams preached Islamic fundamentalism and
jihad
.
Anna got out of the taxi to caution Nooreem. “You mustn't tell them you are leaving,” she said. “Gossip has wings. If Saad hears from any source that we are leaving, he will send men to the airport to find us.”
“I understand,” Nooreem Habib said noncommittally, glancing at the house.
“I suggest you say you are going out to dinner with friends, get the passport, and leave everything else. I have enough money for both of us on my person.”
The taxi driver wanted to be paid. Habib entered the house while he and Anna haggled. She gave him some money, promised more, then sat in the back of the vehicle so he couldn't leave.
She glanced past the cemetery wall at the nearby sepulchers, crypts, and waist-high walls around family burial plots. Because of the masonry mazes, the place was nearly impossible to police. At night the authorities didn't even try, apparently on the theory that anyone there after dark deserved whatever he got.
The cab radio blared popular Egyptian music. Traffic and people walking filled the crowded street in front of the Habib house as the shadows disappeared and dusk settled over the city.
Time passed glacially. Finally, the cab driver turned to Anna, asked for more money. She looked again at her watch. They had been here for twenty minutes. She passed the driver more bills. The realization congealed in Anna's mind that Nooreem hadn't done as she asked. She must have told her family that she was leaving, perhaps permanently,
and now the family was having a scene.
and now the family was having a scene.
A car pulled to the curb and stopped fifty feet beyond the cab. Two men were in the car. They looked back this way, then adjusted the mirrors of their car, a newer sedan.
Ten minutes and another payment to the taxi driver later the Habib door finally opened ⦠a man in his fifties stood in the door looking across the street at her, then closed it again. Uh-oh.
The waiting car with the two men didn't move. The men were still there, sitting calmly.
Forty minutes passed, then forty-five. The last of the light faded from the sky.
Headlights and lights from windows and open doors illuminated the street. Puny streetlights were mounted on street corners, but they didn't seem to help much.
Finally, an hour and a half after Nooreem went into the house, the front door opened again and a horde of people came out. She was apparently surrounded by her family, the father, mother, a sister or two, and several younger brothers. A woman that might be an aunt. The whole procession crossed the street toward the taxi. One of the boys carried a valise.
The two men in the car ahead opened their car doors and got out. Each had a pistol in his hand.
Anna stifled a scream. The taxi driver took one look, started the car's engine, and engaged the clutch. The taxi lurched, then shot forward.
One of the gunmen was on Anna's side. She grabbed the door latch and pushed it open with all her strength.
The door hit the man with a sickening thunk.
“Stop the car,” Anna Modin shrieked in Arabic at the taxi driver, who had braked when he felt the impact. Anna reached across the back of the seat and twisted the ignition key, then jerked it out. The car coasted to a stop as the taxi driver swore lustily in Arabic. With a firm grip on her purse, Anna bailed out.
She sprinted back toward the gunman lying in the street. Beyond him the Habib family was scattering, all
except Nooreem, who stood rooted, staring at the lone standing gunman. He, too, stood transfixed, mesmerized at the sight of his partner crumpled in the street.
except Nooreem, who stood rooted, staring at the lone standing gunman. He, too, stood transfixed, mesmerized at the sight of his partner crumpled in the street.
Anna Modin slowed to a walk, bent over, picked up the wounded man's pistol. She pointed it at the standing gunman, who took a step backward, then glanced at the car he had arrived in.
She knew nothing of firearms, had never handled one in her life. She pointed the pistol at the standing man and squeezed the trigger ⦠and nothing happened.
The specter of the pistol pointing at him caused the lone assassin to duck, then hurriedly retreat toward the car. When Modin didn't shoot, his steps slowed. He glanced about to see who was watching, then lifted his own weapon.
Oh, my God!
Anna Modin turned and fled toward Nooreem. “Run,” she shouted.
Nooreem took off like a rabbit through a gate by the nearest guard tower, with Anna Modin right behind. Atop the tower the soldiers watched ⦠and did nothing.
The two women ran into the darkness along a path that led directly away from the lit street. Once Modin glanced over her shoulder and glimpsed the running gunman following.
Something smashed into the dark wall on her right, then Anna Modin heard the shot. And another, although she didn't know where the second slug went.
The path turned hard to the right, Anna hit the wall and bounced, then ran after Nooreem, who was just a darker figure in the darkness ahead. The stones were uneven under her feet; several times she almost fell. She realized with a start that she still held the pistol. It was useless to herâshe didn't know how to use itâso she threw it into the darkness.
Seconds later they passed a shadowy someone who tore at Anna's purse, which was slapping against her shoulder.
Seizing it with a death grip, Anna ran on, panting
fiercely, her heart threatening to leap out of her chest. She caught up to Nooreem, who was slowing down.
fiercely, her heart threatening to leap out of her chest. She caught up to Nooreem, who was slowing down.
Behind her she could hear running feet. Coming closer and closer.
“Run faster,” she urged, “don't quit.”
“I can't,” the younger woman panted. She pushed her purse at Anna. “Take itâthe disk is in it.”
Anna grabbed Nooreem's arm. “Over this wall,” she urged. “Let's hide.”
They scrambled over the wall beside them as the running footsteps approached. They were crouched there as the footsteps passed.
They crossed the small plot and tackled the wall on the other side. The next plot contained a monument of some type that Anna hit unexpectedly. She fell, then rose and scrambled after Nooreem.
The exertion required to climb wall after wall was tremendous. Skinning knees, ripping hose, they were crawling over wall after wall when a flashlight beam illuminated them. Shots followed.
They fell on the far side of the wall, listened for several seconds to the gunman coming after them, cursing all the while, then as one they rose and started on.
The grave they were crossing collapsed. They tumbled into the hole. Despite herself, Anna Modin screamed.
Dirt, cobwebs, something slimy ⦠Nooreem was first out of the hole, and she reached back for Anna, who clawed at the earth and fought her way out. As Anna rose, Nooreem again thrust the purse at her and shoved her down at the base of a wall, then she threw herself on top and scrambled across.
A spear of light shot out, caught the fleeing girl two walls over, struggling to get a leg up. A shot ⦠two ⦠three, and Nooreem Habib collapsed.
The shooter crossed the walls to Anna's right. She heard him, saw the beam from his flashlight as he crossed a wall.
He would be looking for the purse, and Nooreem didn't
have it on her. Anna knew he would search the area quickly with his flashlight, then come after her.
have it on her. Anna knew he would search the area quickly with his flashlight, then come after her.
Keeping low, she felt her way in the darkness along the wall around the open grave. Once on the other side she crossed the wall as silently as she could, determined to try for the path that they had used to enter the cemetery.
From behind her she heard a scream, then a single shot.
The odyssey took twenty minutes, all the while the gunman was flashing his light into family plots, crawling over fences, cursing mightily. Breathing heavily, sobbing, fiercely biting her lip, Anna Modin refused to give up.
When she once again stood on the path, she staggered toward the distant streetlights. Clutching both purses, she wiped her face on the hem of her dress. She stopped for a few seconds, collected herself, and squared her shoulders. Grimly determined, she walked on as briskly as she could. When she reached the wall she walked toward the nearest guard tower and the gate. The troops saw her but pretended not to notice.
She called Freddy Bailey on his cell phone. Her voice was shaking, even though she tried to speak calmly. “You must come get me in your car.” She described where she was, in a small restaurant near the City of the Dead.
The tone of her voice convinced Freddy, who didn't argue. “What's wrong?” he demanded.
“I'll tell you whatever you wish to know when you get here. I need your help, Freddy.”
“I'm coming. Wait for me.”
“Yes,” she said, and pushed the button to end the call.
In the rest room she looked at her face in the mirror. She was scraped and cutâher legs bleeding in several places.
At least she was still alive. Her face was filthy, streaked with sweat and dirt. She used the hem of her skirt to swab off the worst of it.
Killers of women and childrenâno wonder Nooreem had hated them.
She had courage, Anna thought. You had to say that for her. In a world where many people are afraid to board an airliner, Nooreem Habib was ready to wrestle with the devil himself.
Anna well knew who the devil wasâAbdul Abn Saad.
“You haven't seen the last of me,” she whispered fiercely.
“Got a minute, Admiral?”
The head sticking through Jake Grafton's door belonged to Harry Estep, the FBI liaison officer. “Come in, Harry, please.”
“What I've got, sir, is the results of the polygraph examinations you requested on everyone who knew about the Ilin/Doyle connection.”
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