Living Stones (28 page)

“So until we find him, it looks like the investigation here has hit another dead-end for now. We’ve put in a computer search on the ‘Watch List’ database with what we know about the case so far and come up with nothing. We’ve checked again with the mining company in Montana, who insist they know of no material missing. They admit that the tracer found at the site came from batches they received from the manufacturer. But they keep careful records and everything seems accounted for.”

“So where does that leave us, boss? We can’t let this slip by us.”

“It’ll take more time, Gordon. We’ll have to wait until we get our hands on the preacher.”

As summer progressed Robert couldn’t decide which he hated more, boredom or fear. He constantly wondered what the FBI and police would be doing to find him. The goons in Israel had failed in their hunt for Ashley Wells. He had failed through them. And now the tables were turned. The hunter had become the hunted. He still wanted to be the hunter. But how? It would be too dangerous. He detested the isolation and inactivity. Holed up in his room. A world-famous but anonymous jihadist. No one knew who he was . . . except her.

He did like to cook and eat. So he’d go the supermarket nearby on Broadway, but not until late in the afternoon when lots of shoppers stopped there coming home from work. He fit in easily with his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, looking like any other student from the community college. He’d found out where Jenny shopped, and it wasn’t that market. He went into the kitchen to check the cupboards and refrigerator. They seemed depleted of his provisions, so he scribbled out a shopping list which grew long. Robert checked his watch. His one outing of the day wouldn’t start for several hours. He lay down on the couch and tried to sleep. His mind wouldn’t let him.

The last week of July provided Ashley the best weather Seattle had to offer: sunny and warm, in the eighties during the daytime. She loved the prolonged twilight that lasted until almost ten-thirty at night. And the colorful gardens. She put aside her data and the first draft of her nearly completed thesis. Looking down the long table in Suzzalo library, she gazed at Najid as he concentrated on his smartphone. Ashley smiled.

She had never felt so safe with a guy. He seemed to handle everything with equilibrium. She’d never seen him angry. But he must be restless too. He wasn’t reading his journals right now or writing. Maybe he was surfing the Internet. Others studied nearby, and she didn’t want to disturb them. She walked over to Najid and tapped him on the shoulder, motioning him to follow her out into the hall.

“It’s so nice outside, Najid. I’m having a hard time writing anymore. It’s early afternoon and only Monday, so we have all week to work. Are you still in the middle of something?”

“No, my mind is wandering. I’ve had enough also. Let’s get out of here. Do you have something in mind to do?”

“Yup. I’ve heard of Volunteer Park on Capitol Hill. It has an Asian art museum and a conservatory with tropical plants—as well as a great view of downtown Seattle and the waterfront. Besides, I’ve read of a nearby supermarket there that has international foods. We could take a bus from the Ave and start with the art museum and conservatory.”

“I can understand
art museum
but
conservatory
, what’s that?”

“A conservatory is a house made of glass so the light can come in to make plants grow. They can keep it warm so tropical ones grow even in the winter time. The same word can be used for a music school, just to confuse you more.” Ashley’s eyes twinkled as she smiled up at him.

Najid gazed at the huge old trees of Volunteer Park as he strolled hand in hand with Ashley toward the conservatory. They dwarfed
the olive trees in Galilee. Najid shook his head. “These trees are no good. No olives or any fruit!” He watched her chuckle as they continued walking.

The unusual tropical plants fascinated Ashley. Najid recognized a couple of them. Then it was off to the Asian Art Museum. Najid had never been in such a place. Ashley shared what little she knew of Asian art as they admired the delicacy of the paintings and objects.

Walking down the steps, they spied the waters of Elliott Bay far below, with the Olympic Mountains behind them, still sprinkled with a dash of snow on the very tops left from the winter storms. And then the city itself came into view as they stopped. Ashley pointed out the waterfront with its ships and the Space Needle off to the north. The bay sparkled with thousands of reflected lights from the sun, still high in the Western sky.

They stood together in silence as they gazed out at the late afternoon scene in Seattle. He pulled her close with a sudden hug. His heart raced.

Finally he spoke. “Should we go to the market?”

Ashley sighed and nodded. “Yeah, let’s do. We can walk down to it. We can get something to eat there also.“

They strolled hand in hand though the Capitol Hill neighborhood, first by the mansions of old Seattle near the park on the top of the hill and then smaller houses and apartment buildings as they approached the market on Broadway. Ashley had taken the bus before and knew the area a bit, that the main street through the many shops and stores led south to the Seattle Central Community College.

“This is the business community of Capitol Hill on Broadway,” she explained to Najid, “and south of that” she pointed, “another hill, hospitals, sometimes called Pill Hill.” Her eyes lit up as Najid frowned.

“Pill Hill? What is that? I don’t know
pill
.”

Ashley laughed. “Those are the little white medicines that you take when you’re sick. Didn’t you ever take aspirin?”

“I guess I have. I don’t remember. My mother used to give me some awful liquid stuff in a spoon. She tried to pronounce the English name. It sounded like ‘castor oil.’ ”

People and shopping carts filled every aisle in the supermarket. It was surprisingly busy, Ashley thought, especially for this time of the day. After grabbing a bite to eat at the market café, she began a search for some items on the special sale list she brought. Najid followed as she pushed the cart.

“I think I’ll keep you as my guard, Najid,” she said with a wink. “Yes, guard or guardian can be used. Sometimes we say ‘guardian angel,’ meaning someone sent by God to keep us safe. So I thank God for my guardian angel.”

Ashley rounded a corner to walk down another aisle and almost crashed into the grocery cart of a young man coming up the other way. “Excuse me,” she said instinctively as she stopped. He looked startled and stared wide-eyed at her for a moment. Ashley stood still, frozen in time, and stared wildly at him. That face, enclosed by a hood . . . those dark eyes, and the distinctive red birthmark above the left brow.

In an instant a memory revived, recalling one that seemingly had been erased: first the scene in the back of the church where she saw him and sensed an unknown recognition, and then another memory
card with a picture of a street, and across it a hooded man with his face partially hidden, but bearing a distinctive red mark. Time stood still. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move.

Robert Bentley’s face turned white, his dark eyes wide, as he silently stared at Ashley. He stood motionless for an instant before a muffled “Oh shit!” escaped from his mouth. He suddenly wheeled around with his cart, and she saw him walk slowly back down the aisle, deliberately examining items on either side.

Ashley turned back around the corner to find Najid looking the other way at some juices. She struggled to control her trembling hands and her shaky voice. She whispered, “I saw him. I saw him.”

“Who are you talking about, Ashley?”

“The bomber! I know it’s him! I know it’s the guy! I recognized him. Same eyes. Same red mark. Dark-blue baseball cap this time. He knows who I am. Oh Najid! What should we do? He may come after me!” Ashley shook, her face felt cold.

“Go back to where we ate, to a place where there are many people. I’ll be back.”

“Don’t leave me, Najid!”

“Go, Ashley! He hasn’t seen me, at least my face.”

“But he may have a gun. What are you going to do?”

Najid raced around the cart and disappeared down the aisle after the guy in the dark-blue cap. He saw him turn to the right and speed up with his cart. It contained several food items. Najid followed him at a distance, keeping back and almost out of sight.

The bomber glanced back quickly and kept going. He picked up his pace, almost running as he approached the checkout stands. Then he suddenly turned into another aisle, and halfway up that one abandoned his cart. He looked around again. Najid realized that the bomber could not see him tucked behind the corner of the tall shelves.
Where did he go?
Najid whispered to himself in Arabic. His heart pounded.
Oh no! Ashley!

He ran toward the café section and saw her at a distance, approaching a table with several women.
She’s OK, but where’s the bomber?

Najid hurried to the front at the checkout stands, looking wildly for his man. Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw him in the
parking lot. Najid scurried around the carts neatly stacked into each other and out the door. He saw the man scurry fast past a line of parked cars. Najid followed from another lane, keeping his eye on the bomber, but hidden from his sight. Najid soon blended into others walking on the sidewalk. Cars crowded the street. He saw the bomber turn left into a quieter lane lined by apartment buildings. His man again looked back, but Najid ducked behind other walkers. The bomber turned again, this time to his right. Each time he turned to another street, he looked around. Najid kept his distance, hiding when his fugitive turned a corner.

The man began to run, at first a jog and then faster. Najid wondered whether the bomber might have seen him. He dropped off the pace putting more distance between them, walking rapidly. Turning a corner he came to a short block, and the guy had disappeared. Did he have a gun, and was he hiding, intending to use it? Najid looked around, reasoning that he would not turn back toward Broadway and the supermarket. So he walked carefully to the next intersection surveying all the apartment building entrances.

He knew Ashley would be wondering what had happened, but he had no time to call now. His heart raced. He had lost his man, the guy the FBI has been searching for. He had to find him. As he crossed the intersection, a jogger came by running up the hill. Najid swung in behind him, and soon noticed his prey heading the same direction a block ahead, running. Staying behind the jogger, Najid had no trouble keeping up, and used him for cover. The bomber finally slowed to a walk, taking several more turns down side streets. Najid kept back, determined not to lose him again. This continued for what seemed to Najid at least half an hour. Finally the man stopped. Najid watched from behind a large laurel bush. His prey scanned the street in both directions. He shoved his cap back and waited. Najid studied his face. A car drove by. The fugitive walked across the street and up to a front porch.

He looked around again, in both directions. Finally reaching into his pocket, he opened the door with a key and disappeared inside.

Ashley had approached a group of three women sitting at a table. She looked ashen and couldn’t stop shaking. “May I join you?”

They looked up, surprise registering on their faces. “Ah . . . sure,” one of them said, shrugging her shoulders. “Sit down.” She smiled.

“I’m sorry,” Ashley replied as she sat down. She took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. Her hands shook. She fought tears, blinking several times and swallowing repeatedly.

Another of the women put her arm on Ashley’s shoulder. “Are you in trouble?”

Ashley sniffed and reached in her purse for a tissue. “I may be. But I’m also concerned for my friend. I don’t know what’s happening or where he is.” She looked at her watch—eight-thirty. “I’m afraid to call him right now.”

“Whatever is going on, you are safe with us. Would you like us to stay with you for a bit? We’re just having iced coffee and chatting.”

“That would be wonderful. You’re so kind.” She scanned the area for any security guards and didn’t see any. “Thank you.”