The Teachings-Draft only

Chapter One



Beth held the phone to her ear, listening to her mother tell her how worried she was. She walked to the window and looked out to the scene below. There was the small enclosed garden area that belonged to the manager Mr. and Mrs. Pernelli. The walls went straight to the back of the building that faced the opposite street. Whoever built the walls did not want the neighbors to come into the garden area.

Mrs. Pernelli grew wonderful vegetables and there were flowers in pots that sat at the base of the building. Every so often Mrs. Pernelli would open her door when Beth came home from work and give her some flowers or vegetables. When Beth went on a trip with her boss, She would bring Mrs. Pernelli a small gift from the countries she visited.

“Beth, I know that you have to make this decision on your own, but I will tell you right now that your name is going to the top of the prayer list in our prayer chain. Don’t forget that you have had an experience that many have not had. It may be something you can use to keep others as well as yourself safe.”

“Mom. I don’t talk about that. I don’t see ghosts.” Beth whispered as she went out of her room so Theresa couldn’t hear her. “That happened when I was very young. I don’t even think about it.”

“Beth, you are talking to your mother. I know that incident has never left you. You told me not too long ago that you had a dream about it.”

Beth remembered waking up drenched in sweat and shaking. She had called her mother and cried. Why did she share that with her mother? Now she was wishing she had just made herself a cup of tea and went back to bed. You called your mother because you were scared about what you had experienced. Even after all these years the experience caused her to have nightmares every once in a while.

When she was eleven years old she had gone for a walk, against her mother’s orders. She had walked along the banks of the river near their home. It was spring and the water was high and fast. She watched huge trees and debris race past her. Some of the limbs crashed into the bank causing chunks of the dirt and bushed to be caught up in the current and swept away.

She heard a man talking and since she wasn’t supposed to be there she hid in the overhang of a weeping willow. The man walked right by her carrying something in his arms. He was talking to himself. She waited until he passed and crept out of her hiding place to follow him. He was holding a little girl. She couldn’t see who it was, but the girl had long dark matted hair. It fell over the man’s arm and her legs swung freely on from the other arm. Her feet had no shoes or socks.

The man laid the little girl down on the ground and lay down beside her. What he did next to the silent little girl made Beth hold her hand over her mouth, shut her eyes and bury her head in her knees. She was hiding behind a bush, the man and girl were far enough away for him not to see her. She looked up and through the leaves on the bush, to see the man taking something from the little girl and putting it in his pocket. He stood and took a rope that was lying on the ground. He tied the little girl’s feet and hands. He picked her up and with all his might he threw her into the fast swirling water of the river. He adjusted his jeans and buckled his belt.

Beth started to cry. The man whirled at the sound and started toward the bush she was hiding behind. All of the sudden she felt some one push her to the ground. She felt something warm cover her and heard a “shhh.” She lay as still as she could. Her face almost buried in the leaves. She saw the man’s boots as he walked by her and then look all around for her. She shut her eyes expecting him to see her at any moment. She heard the crunch of his boots in the brush walked quickly away from her hiding spot.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably just fifteen to twenty minutes the warm feeling that pressed over her lifted and went away. She stood and looked down the path the man had gone.

“Bethanne” A voice spoke to her, “You don’t need to be afraid, I protected you.”

“Who are you?”She looked around for the voice.

“That doesn’t matter. Right now you must tell the police what you saw and who that man was.”

“But I can’t. I will get into trouble. I’m not supposed to be here.” She finally saw the form of a man standing across the path from her. He was dressed in tan pants and shirt.

“No you won’t. You need to tell your mother what you saw and she will call the police. You need only to your mother about me and no one else. They wouldn’t believe you anyway.”

“Why not?” She looked at the form. It wasn’t completely see-through but she could see the river moving behind his shirt. He had a nice smile made her feel safe.

“Are you a ghost?”

“No. I am more like a guardian angel.”

“Why didn’t you guard that girl?”

“Bethanne, this is hard for you to understand. But why did you come here today?”

“I don’t know I just wanted to see the river. Everyone is talking about how high and fast it is moving and I wanted to see it.”

“Your mother told you not to come. Why did you disobey her?”

“I thought I would just look and go home before she would miss me.”

“You chose to disobey and nothing was going to stop you.”

“Well, yes.”

“That man was determined to find a little girl and do what he did to her. No one was going to stop him, even though there were a number of times he could have changed his mind. Like you he did what he came to do.”

“But he killed that little girl.”

“And you can make him stop doing it to any other girls by telling your mother, even though you might get into trouble. It is your choice.”

Beth had thought for awhile. “I think I better tell. He can’t do that bad thing to any more girls.”

“Good girl. Remember, there are others like me watching over everyone. We cannot stop bad people from doing bad things every time. Sometimes we can get them to change their mind sometimes, like today we cannot. If you make sure that you listen, you will hear a voice guiding you.”

“I will,” She promised.

What followed had changed her life. The legal system was in full force and the man was caught, charged and sentenced.

She never told her mother about the man she talked to until she was in her twenties and her life had seemed to settle into a routine. She had a special relationship with her mother and one night she told her mother the whole story.

“I knew you were holding something back and I was so afraid it was something that man had done to you.” Her mother hugged her hard.

From that time on her mother had supported her but had never let her forget that she had been in the presence of an angel, a guardian angel.

“It isn’t that I am taking this lightly Mom, because I’m not. I have to go. For one thing, I have to take these folders to Mr. Lucien, I tried to get him to let me ship them next day air, but he would have none of it. I have to bring them. He is so afraid that the company will lose them.” Beth ran her tinted fingers through the silky, bobbed, shoulder length hair. “I feel that since I am going to be quitting soon, this is the least I could do. The fact is I have never been to the west coast and to be able to see Seattle and do some sightseeing is a plus.”

Her mother sighed, “I guess you have to do what you think best. I love you and I will be praying for you. Bethie, you may be going on a special mission.”

“Thanks Mom, I love you to and I am counting on those prayers.” Beth pressed the button to disconnect the phone call.

Theresa sat in the chair near the window when Beth returned to the room. This was her favorite room too. When she had come to live with Beth she was glad for anything that was off the streets. Beth had taken her in and helped her find a job. That was four years ago and now she had a great job and was engaged to be married this fall.

“Did you mom give you special instructions?” She went on speaking when Beth nodded, “I can’t say I have any feelings about this trip, but I am certainly getting bad vibes from you and your mother. Mr. Lucien is a creep. I never have liked him. I know people can’t help their looks, they are born with them. He just takes the look a step too far. His widow’s peak and slicked back hair give the impression he is either trying to look like Eddie Munster or he really wants to look like the stereo type of the devil.” Theresa shook her head and her mop of brown tight curls bounced. “I’m sorry Beth I couldn’t work for that man. I would always be thinking he was going to attack me or grope me. Maybe even try to get me into his apartment and have his way with me.” She fell back on the bed with one arm hanging limp over the side of the bed and the back of the other hand pressed against her forehead.

Beth laughed, “Come off it, stop being so melodramatic.” She tossed the small pillow, propped in the chair, at her friend who caught it neatly and threw it back.

“Seriously, don’t you feel a little weird when you are around him?”

“At first, but I am used to him besides, I rarely see him. He barks orders at me through the speaker and I do them. Sometimes he is gone all day and other times he is in his office for weeks.” Beth picked up the pile of clothes Theresa had brought in for her, and set them in the suitcase. She went on speaking, “What has really bothered me is whenever we travel, there is nothing but drama. Not so much with Mr. Lucien but all around him. We can walk into an airport and there is always something going on. Once there was a couple fighting. If it weren’t so sad it would be funny. The guy had gone on a “business” trip,” Beth made the sign for air quotes, “But his wife decided to go and pick him up instead of him taking a cab home. She was having a fit when she found him making out with some young chick at a car amid their entire luggage. She wasn’t his secretary and certainly was a lot younger than his wife. If security hadn’t stepped in I am sure she would have killed both of them right there. She started out yelling and it escalated to a fury I have never seen in a person. If she had a weapon we would all be dead.”

“How can people get like that? Where is their control button?” Theresa propped her feet on the cedar chest at the bottom of Beth’s poster bed.

“That’s what I wondered. I can’t say that we were the cause, but every time we went somewhere?” Beth emphasized the word every. “It took a few trips to realize that at each place we went there was some kind drama going on. I mentioned it once to Mr. Lucien that it sure seemed odd.”

“What did he say?” Theresa leaned forward.

“He shrugged and said, ‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ I knew he was well aware of what was going on around him. It was just after that last trip that I began feel irritated all the time.”

“Boy, I sure know when that started.” Theresa rolled her eyes. Her expression made Beth burst out with a laugh.

“Roomie, I can’t apologize enough.”

“Hey, let’s not go there,” Theresa stood up and walked to the door. “We know that you were not yourself. I am just glad your mom recognized that it had something to do with Mr. Lucius and that you are going to get a new job. I will take off and let you pack.” She blew a kiss to Beth as she passed by.

When Beth was alone a feeling of calm acceptance came over her. She had sent out resume’s as soon has she had gone to her mother’s prayer group in tears over a fight between her and Theresa. It had almost come to blows but Theresa’s fiancé stepped in and stopped it. Beth had stomped out of the apartment got into her car and cried the entire two hour drive to her parents’ home. After a long talk with her mother, she came to accept that the feelings she was having were directly connected to her boss.

When she was at work there were times that she was snappy with the customers, she felt irritated, angry and quick to respond in a negative manner with everyone. Then she would be fine and everything ran smooth.

It took an intervention of her mother’s prayer group and her own prayers for protection that broke the hold of whatever was trying to control her moods. When she went back to work, Mr. Lucien seemed a bit different towards her. He became more demanding and a bit hostile, trying to rile her. She was able to keep calm and in control when he would go off on some tirade. Now he was demanding she fly out to him. She finished putting her clothes in the suitcase and zipped it up.

Mr. Lucien had given her the suitcase. It was just like his except for the colored piping. His was orange and hers was red. It was so close a couple of times the bell boy had mixed them up and Mr. Lucien had knocked at the communicating door calling to her that he had her suitcase.

She had cautiously opened the door and he rolled her’s in and she rolled his to him. She said thanks and shut the door locking it and leaned against it. He didn’t knock or say anything about it. She waited until she finally heard the second door close and lock before she began to breathe a little easier.

She didn’t know why she felt so uneasy around him. It wasn’t that he did anything wrong, it was just a sense she felt. It wasn’t there in the beginning but it certainly got worse as the years went by.

The following morning Theresa walked Beth to her cab and helped put the black bag in the trunk.

“Beth, I will be pray for you. I promise.” she told her friends she hugged her.

Surprised, Beth hugged her friend and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from showing any emotion. She waved as the cab pulled away and allowed the tears to flow.

Theresa was her college roomie but even as her friend Theresa would never talk about God or any belief. For her to say she would pray for Beth was a huge breakthrough.

The lights reflected the rain soaked streets and she saw trash dams where the water deposited them before dropping into the drains. It was a quiet morning, not very many cars out on the streets, and she had time to think about her next step. A few months ago she had sent out resumes. In a world where jobs are so scarce, she had sent them. Then weeks went by with no response. She started to call back to see if the jobs were still open. Some had been filled and then in the middle of the week she got a call from Michael Blake. He had a great company that had just gone global and he called her to say he needed someone who know their way around the world and could help him not to make mistakes in the different cultures. With her education and experience would help him greatly. He would be back in the States sometime next week and he would call her to set up a meeting time.



At the airport she checked her suitcase in and got a coffee with a breakfast sandwich. She went to the gate and was buckling her seatbelt. It wasn’t until the plane was in the air that she really relaxed. She reached down to her carryon bag and opened it. The folders she saw seemed different. There was a sinking feeling as she saw that the folders were a little worn, they didn’t have the colored tabs that Mr. Lucien demanded. These were bent and ragged. She pulled the folders from the pocket she had put them in and the feeling didn’t make any better. Closing her eyes the cold reality hit her body like a jump into an arctic pool. These folders were herown personal files. She had been working on them this week and left them on the table. This morning she grabbed them stuffed them hin her bag and headed out the door.

Where were the folders that she was supposed to bring to her boss. The sick feeling wasn’t going away. She was going to be sick.



• *** ***





Lucien Malone stared at his reflection in the mirror. His black hair was styled and slicked back away from his face. His black brows were in a perfect arch over thick eyelashes and his brown eyes were so dark they also could be black.

He loved to wear black, but in his business, people were often put off by someone who wore black exclusively. He adjusted the white collar and matching cuffs. The blue pinstriped shirt was pared under the dark navy suit gave people confidence in him.

As he walked past the mirror he took a glance at his full reflection. “You look good.” A voice whispered. He looked beyond his reflection but he was alone. It must have been his subconscious. He walked out of the bedroom unaware of the dark uniformed being that had just whispered to his ego.

His breakfast was waiting under the metal covers. He sat and pulled the linen napkin from its holder and laid it across his lap. Lifting the covers from his plate he smiled at the two perfectly cooked eggs atop sliced Canadian bacon and two crumpets. The Hollandaise sauce was drizzled just as he ordered, not drowning the eggs.

“Good morning Sir,” Nathan came through the connecting door. He always ate breakfast with Lucien.

There was a large centerpiece on the table that prevented Lucien from seeing the plate in front of Nathan. What Nathan ate for breakfast was an abomination to Lucien’s appetite. He had seen the cover come off the plate to reveal a pile of golden buttered hash browns; fried eggs surrounded by greasy sausage links as well as thick cut crispy bacon. Lucien shuddered at the memory of what he had seen Nathan devouring.

“We have a lot to discuss this morning so don’t fill your mouth with so much food you can’t swallow and talk in a normal manner.” Lucien cut a small piece and enjoyed the flavors.

Nathan ignored Lucien’s comment and opened the portfolio next to him.

“Our girl is on her way. There were no problems and she didn’t bring anyone with her. She will arrive around Eleven o’clock and should be at her hotel by noon or so. Do you want me to call her and meet up to get the folders from her?

“No. I will let her have the day to settle in and we will arrange for her to be picked up tomorrow to meet us. I am sure she will have contacted her parents and they won’t be expecting her to check in until late Monday night or even Tuesday some time. It will give us time to coordinate the event.”

Nathan nodded and made notes on the legal pad. “I have a contact to pick up the suitcase around ten thirty or so. The case will be in the baggage claim area and all he has to do is get it and bring it to the drop off point.”

“This is someone you can trust?” Lucien stared over the top of the flowers at his body guard. Nathan had worked for him for four years. He was trustworthy as any body guard assistant he could have found. He paid Nathan well and gave him as much power to act as his second in command that didn’t counter his orders for Bethanne. She was his executive assistant and had power to act on his behalf in any of the business deals he sent her to. Lately he had begun to notice some reluctance to do some things he asked. She would not lie, steal or cheat for him or to him. She said she was a Christian and he had tested her to the limit. Maybe that was why she seemed a little distant lately.

He hated to see her unhappy. He enjoyed their debates on religion. He was a devout atheist and had long put aside any religious dependence. He had made his place on his own and needed no crutch to get through life. God had neither helped or hindered his rise to riches.

“Sir?” Lucien looked up at Nathan. “You were daydreaming. Do you want to continue this after breakfast?”

“No, you can continue. What about the meeting and when do we deliver the suitcase?”

“Sam is picking it up and will deliver it to me this afternoon. We are scheduled to meet Mr. Chu at ten o’clock tomorrow morning at his warehouse. He wanted to see a sample of what he is going to be getting. We are going to show it to him and that will be the last he ever sees of the stuff. Too bad, if he would have given up and let us buy him out, he could have retired to the Bahamas and lived his life in ease and luxury.”

Lucien shrugged. “His loss is our gain. I don’t care if he wanted to sell to us or not. I can’t have him and his loyal gang as unhappy irritants running around causing trouble. They will all be exterminated when the warehouse blows up along with the drugs and guns. If the forensic team ever even finds that suitcase they will think it was theirs.”

“What about the meetings on Tuesday? The World Trade Convention will be starting. I have an unreleased schedule of the meetings.” Nathan grinned and got up to hand Lucien the printed packet.

“You are a very handy man to have around.” Lucien opened the folder and began to read the agenda and schedule of the meetings. He flipped to the back pages to see the attendees. Many of the names were very familiar to him, he met many of them in the past few years in meetings.

There were names listed that he knew as members of the Bilderberg group. It was no surprise that they would be coming to make sure that any decisions or voting would be swayed to their side. As a new member of the group he was pleased to see the names of people he had previously met and would be able to feel comfortable speaking with them and supporting their cause.

A one world government and economic system would benefit everyone. Including himself. He had been very wise to apply and to be accepted into their elite group.

“I see the members of the group are coming. Do we have everything in place for the breakfast Wednesday? There will be many of them staying for the rest of the day but some will leave. I think the best time to catch them all is Wednesday morning.”

“Yes, it is all set up and the breakfast will be elegant but lavish, just as you ordered.”

Lucien nodded. Bethanne had arranged the whole thing and Nathan had followed up to make sure everything at this end was still on schedule. The two worked well together. He just didn’t see why Bethanne was so resistant to his plans. She had come to him a year ago and told him she could not do as he had indicated in his memo. She would type it and email it to him but wanted no part in the dealings he was entering. He had grit his teeth and smiled allowing her the freedom of choosing this position. As time had gone on she had done the things he had asked as long as she was not doing it illegally or represemting him in some shady action. He had been careful just letting her type things and make memos that he edited to fit his needs.

As the months went by more and more she resisted his orders and refused to do his bidding or even to send letters or emails. He had threatened her once and she stood there at his desk, shaking in her cute shoes and defied him. He had even set out to seduce her on one of their trips but somehow all the plans had gone awry when she got a call that her father was in the hospital and she had flown home immediately. He had berated Nathan who had found him a substitute for the evening. It wasn’t the same and he had sent for Nathan to take the woman away. He had wanted to put Bethanne in a compromising situation where he would have power over her to make her do what he wanted. No matter what he did she could not be put there. She would not date him or go to function where she might be alone with him. It was as if there was someone watching over her and telling her what his plans were. He was angry.

All his life he had been in control. From the time he was a small child and had to find food for himself, his mother and his sister. His father was only around when the welfare check arrived. He would beat his mother until she signed it over to him. His sister was just three years older and had been sexually abused by their father.

When Lucien was eight years old, he was tired of his father’s abuse and hated him. He was going to keep the money from the welfare himself, so he found an empty house and moved his mother and sister there. He sat in the apartment and waited for the mailman to come. He heard the man open the boxes and put the mail in the slots. He knew that the others waiting for their checks were standing there until the mailman shut the main door and locked it. He wouldn’t be out the door before they were ramming their keys into the locks and getting the envelopes. He wouldn’t be at his truck before the whole group would be in line at the advance cash store to get those checks cashed.

Lucien did not see his father at his usual place on the step, when he slipped into the hall and made his way to the mail boxes. He got the envelope and was going to run out the back door when he saw his father standing in the hall holding his sister by her stomach.

“Give me the check.” The smoke and alcohol roughed voice ordered. The man had a grin on his lips that showed missing teeth.

Hate flowed through his body like molten lava. He was seeing red. This was the show down. He was not giving this money to his father.

“You can have her. I am not giving you the check.” Lucien stood his ground. His sister was folded limply over his father’s arm. He didn’t know if she was alive or dead and he didn’t really care at this point.

‘Get to the apartment and will see what your mother has to say about that.” His father pulled a long knife from his pant leg and pointed the tip at Lucien.



Lucien smiled and moved the apartment. He was hoping his father would do just that. He wanted to see his wife in the apartment. He was going to get more than he bargained for. The tip of the knife poked Lucien in the back and it was all he had in him to keep from turning and knocking his father down the stairs.

He knocked on the scared apartment door, ”Mother we are coming in, Father has found Celia.” He pushed the door open and went in quickly moving to the kitchen where a small night light glowed in the dark.

Lucien’s father entered the room and dropped Celia on the floor. “Where are the lights? Turn them on.” He ordered.

He never said another word. Knives in the hands of children and young men came at him from all directions; they pierced his body killing him before he could turn to use the machete that fell from his hand to the foor.

His body crumpled and rolled on to the rung. The body was covered with the slice marks and deep stab wounds that bubbled with blood. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell over to his side. His gazed locked on Lucien and the hate that emanated from his eyes was almost physical.

Lucien pulled the machete from his grip and sliced his neck. Air and blood bubbled from the wound and the body went limp.

Lucien and the others waited for a few moments then they all left the apartment. Lucien and one of the boys lifted Celia and carried her down the stairs and out of the apartment to the house where his mother was passed out on a crumpled blanket.

Over the next month’s Lucien kept a low profile and used everything he had available to make money including his mother and sister. He made sure they were clean and presentable. No one wanted to pay good money for a sleazy, dirty, slut. It took a long time to get his mother off the meth and kept her on easy to get pills. They kept her lucid and easy going. If she screwed up she got no pills.

His sister had no desire to get a job or better herself. As long as she had a john and money for clothes and booze, she was willing to make money for Lucien on her back.

He used his money making ability to buy into a business venture and it made him some big money. That investment led to many more. It was the cost of these investments that took their toll on Lucien. He lost any conscience and it became all about money and making money. He was driven, and the more money he made the more he wanted and the more he had to sell pieces of his soul to get it. He became hardened and the only happiness he ever felt was getting one over on someone or corrupting someone to make them as bad as he was.

Lucien had spent the last year working on Bethanne, trying to break her and her beliefs. The very fact that she wouldn’t bend or compromise made him try harder to get her to fail. Each trip they took together he tried to tempt her with sex and money and gifts. He seemed to create chaos when the two were together. The thrill of being in the position to protect her and save her gave him a feeling of power. But she resisted all overtures. She resisted him repeatedly until he was so angry he sent her home.

Now she was going to leave him. That made him even more angry. He was going to set her up. He didn’t tell Nathan or there would be trouble. He had a plan and it was already in place.

Nathan left the breakfast table and headed to his room. Slipping through the door he could see the familiar figure under the bed covers. He slid on top of the covers and put his hands under the sheet and found two familiar mounds.

“Hey your hands are cold.” The female voice of his girlfriend Rhianna teased.

“Good morning. There is breakfast on the table. Stay out of Lucien’s sight. He doesn’t know you are here.”

“When can I help you? I told you all I know about your boss and it has helped you keep ahead him.”

“Rhianna I don’t believe in all this witch stuff. I know you are wiccan but keep it to yourself.” Nathan kissed her.

“Nathan you are in this as deep as he is. You are just as responsible for all he does because you do it for him. I just want the chance to get in on it and have the same fun you do. What do you have to do today?”

He smiled down at her and wrapped his arms around her. “Just be here when I get back. I have to meet up with this guy and just give him some instructions.” She blew him a kiss as he went out the door.

Nathan was back at the hotel in an hour and a half. He realized he had dropped his phone somewhere. He had gone through the car and all the places he had been and then remembered the stop at Rhianna’s bed.

He opened the door and saw the unmade bed empty. Searching the bed he did not find his phone but in the process he found a bag from a local Goodwill and Rhianna gone. On the desk was a note.

‘Sam called. He can’t make it so I am taking his place.”

Nathan froze. Rhianna had gone to do the pickup at the Airport. Nathan loved Rhianna. Her wiccan beliefs rubbed him wrong. She was some priestess and over a whole bunch of little wiccans. He had seen the scars on her wrists and had confronted her thinking she was a cutter. She had laughed and told him that she was the high priestess and there were certain rituals she needed to perform with blood. They usually used animal blood but in some rituals she needed to use her own. He had been resistant but she had overcome his worries.

Now he was worried. She had gone in a disguise he threw the plastic bag on the floor. He was going to have to find her. He called down for a taxi to take him to the airport.





* * *





Anthony opened his eyes, he was staring at a piece of wood. About two inches, he turned his head slightly to see that the wood was a leg and the leg was attached to a top that was the coffee table that was in front of the couch he had fallen asleep on the night before.

`The night before he had spent the evening at a meeting with his Little Brother. The young man whose father was killed in the war in Iran, had captured his heart. He had grown up without a father so he had volunteered to mentor a young man.

He closed his eyes again and began moving his muscles. They were sore. Sometime durning the night he rolled off the couch on to the floor. Opening his eyes he looked at his watch, we the position of the hands registerd with his brain he gathered his body and jumped up heading down the hall to the bathroom. He was late. His bathroom was small. The bath had been repainted a long time ago and was chipped. Infact he rarely took a bath because the paint just pealed in large sheets.

Shaving, he cut his chin and slapped a piece of toilet paper on it and headed to his bedroom to get dressed. Glancing at his watch he could still make it if the traffic wasn’t too bad.

He headed down the stairs of his townhouse and opened the door to the garage. He tensed. He always did in anticipation of an attack. It never happened but his inner insecurity was that there were somwthing in the garage to get him. He hit the light switch and breathed when he saw the garage was clean and almost empty. There was just his old but nondescript car.

When he slid into the vinyl seat, he glanced back to check the back seat. It was clear, he put the key in the lock and reached up to the plastic box attached to the visor. The door raised and he turned the key. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. His dark brown hair was brushed back and he had a wide forehead, but his face narrowed to his chin with its dimple. The dramatic brows and the Hazel eyes made women go for him. He had no time for women. He had a goal.

He realized that turning the resulted in nothing. No engine starting. He swore and slammed his palm on the steering wheel.

Anthony turned the key again and again. The thought ran through his head. ‘only and idiot does the same thing over and over hoping for a different outcome.’ He checked the gas gauge and the battery seemed to have some juice in it and he had just had the oil changed, it registered full.

Checking his watch he didn’t have time now to play around with the car. He had to get to work there was no calling in sick today.

Carl, who lived across the street and down the block had car pooled with him for a while. Maybe he hadn’t left for work. Shuting the garage door he headed down the street to Carl’s house. There weren’t many people out and about. He could see people moving around in their houses. Children watching TV since school was out for the summer.

He turned up the sidewalk to the house glanceing across the lawn strewn with plastic toys. He pushed down the irritation that rose inside. The waste and lack of care that some people had when others were less fortunate.

He rapped a little too hard on the door. Carl’s wife peeked out the window to see who was there and Anthony raised his hand in greeting. He tried to be patient while she came across the room to open the door.

“Hi I am sorry to come by so early but my car won’t start. Has Carl left?” The question came out in a rush between an almost locked jaw.

“Oh, I am so sorry. Carl left early, he had to make a stop at the bank before work and pick up some donuts for break. It was his turn and I haven’t been feeling to good to make something.” She looked at him as if expecting so kind of response.

All Anthony could think of was how to get to work and not be late. She must have thought he needed help.

“Anthony, if you go to the Grandview Hotel you can get a ride on the airport shuttle. Carl has done that before.” She waited again but Anthony just turned.

“Thanks.” He didn’t even say good-bye. He was jogged down the sidewalk and turned toward the main street.

The Grandview was probably six blocks away. He would have to pick up the speed if he was going to get there im time to catch a shuttle.

He let his mind rest on the meeting he had last night. David, his little brother, was a quick learner. He wasn’t a little boy. In fact he was sixteen. An age when they think they are invincible and there is no fear. Once trained correctly they would make great employees and soldiers. He was sure David would take the next step and join a military branch once he graduated from High School. In the next two years, he would be able to guide this young man to become a fully responsible adult and ready to face anything in the world he chose to do.

Ahead in the distance about three blocks away, he saw the driver of the shuttle shut the cargo doors. He was getting ready to leave. Anthony picked up the pace and began to sprint to the hotel. He pushed himself as he saw the driver salute the bell man and get on the shuttle. He raised his hand but he had two more long blocks to run.

The shuttle pulled away and Anthony slowed to a moderate jog. His mind flashing the senarios of what would happen if he was late. A cab pulled up and a man got out, paid the driver and walked into the hotel. Anthony was almost there. A cab would have to do.

A woman burst out of the hotel and ran to the cab. She was talking to the cab driver as Anthony crossed the street.

“Hold on. I need that cab.” He hoped his uniform would give him some precedence with the cab driver.

“I need this cab and I was here first. I am sure the bell man would be glad to call you another cab.” The woman turned to face him but edged to the cab’s back door.

“I have to get to work. I will be late and my car didn’t start this morning.” Anthony spoke to the cab driver. The man was arab and he hoped that somehow he could connect with the driver and get him to take him first.

The cab driver looked at the uniform, “I think you are going to the same place; the airport?”

The other two looked at each other. One wore a TSA uniform and the woman had the handle of a suitcase tightly grasped in her hand.

“Airport?” she asked? Anthony nodded. “We can share.”

Anthony grabbed the suitcase and threw it in the trunk and slammed the lid shut. He jumped into the back seat. “Get there as fast as you can and take whatever means you can to get there.”

The cabdriver put the car in gear and it shot forward into the traffic.





• * * *





Mufid Karzai left his house that morning. It was going to be a warm day even for Seattle. It was going to be a good day, in fact it would probably be a good weekend. There was a huge convention to be held on Tuesday. Seattle was in the news every day for the last two weeks. He had read the newspaper that one of the riders always left in his cab. He would be able to tell the type of businessman or woman by the way they read the paper, how they folded it and if they left it or if it was tucked under the arm or in the brief case. Those riders that were pristine in their manner might be good tippers and he had to read the person to see if they would respond to conversation or if they wanted the keep the wall between them up and well established.

He waved to his children who were still in their pajamas but for some reason found a way to be up a the crack of dawn to see him leave for work.

He loved his children, and had grown to love his wife, Mari. Theirs was an arranged marriage. His father had stepped on the rare occasion and derailed his life yet again. He hadn’t known his father growing up. There was the conjugal visit to the wife he set up in a home and supplied for all her needs and wants. Most Muslim women were not vocal, so whatever his father saw fit to provide, she would live with it. Mufid had tutors and also went to school at the local Mosque. When he was older he went to the university and then to the military which was required.

During the years he learned all about weaponry, tactics he was also being taught about the infidel Christians. How they were a cancer on the face of the earth eating away at what the great father wanted for his children. Mufid was an avid student and excelled.

In the midst of a meeting, Mufid was called to the headquarters office. When the door opened for him, his father and a couple of men were seated in complete dress robes. He was told that a wife was found for him and he would be married. He never questioned his father aloud. It was his culture. On the day he met Mari, he was at least pleased that she was beautiful, and very educated. After they were married, his father dropped another bomb in his life.

He was being sent to the United States. His job was to help others from their cell to find jobs, schools and assimilate into society.

Mufid was angry. This time he confronted his father, but the deed was done and his passport and arrangements for a home in an area farthest from his homeland. He was coached, drilled and given English enunciation classes. He was to be an Arab-American.

He pulled into the line of cabs waiting for fares to the hotels and homes of the residents of Seattle. He watched the people rushing from the building pulling their luggage, often bumping into other travelers. Some apologized while others just went their way not bothering to even look.

He gradually moved closer to the front of the line and at last he had a fair. It was a businessman stepped up.

“good morning sir.” At his voice the man’s head went up and he paused.

“hello. I need to go to the Grandview Hotel.”

“Not a problem Sir, I know right where that is and we will be there in a flash.” He set the case into the trunk and the man got into the back seat.

“are you staying long?” Mufid asked as he sent in the information to dispatch and set the trip counter.

“Just for a few days. I am meeting some distributors in the area. Might even try to see if I can add any to the roster.” The man was smiling and was relaxed.

“I am sure you will do well. What exactly are you selling?” Mufid liked to learn as much as he could about the lifestyle, products and services. It was useful information.

The man laughed. He was husky, like a football player. He had thin blond hair and blue eyes. He was probably from Scandinavian descent. “Would you believe I sell pellet stoves?”

“I have seen those. It is a very interesting concept. For this part of the world it should be very popular.” Mufid was thankful for the light traffic. Most of it was going into the city not away from it.

“You know it. The competition is very stiff here. I am from the Midwest and I make this trip a couple times a year and with things heating up I may be here a little more often.”

Mufid turned the corner and pulled to a stop in front of the entrance to the hotel. He took the man’s case from the trunk and running the credit card through the machine. The man walked away and a blond haired woman burst from the doors yelling, “Wait, I need a ride to the airport!”









Chapter 2





Beth was shaking. Had she come this far and not packed the very thing she was to bring. She was sick and felt like she was going to throw up. Quickly she moved to the bathroom thankful the sign read ‘unoccupied.’ She pulled the door closed and locked it turning to the metal can she lost the muffin and coffee she had eaten that morning.

Feeling a little better she leaned her hot forehead against the cool wall of the stall. What was she going to do? She went back over the steps she had made this morning. All she could think of was putting the toiletry bag into the case, zipping it up and going to the kitchen. In the dim light from the kitchen she picked up the folders on the table and Theresa walked in sporting her fav Winnie the Poo pajamas.

She remembered putting the folders in her carry on bag and goint to the window to watch for the cag. When it came Theresa helped carry the case to the cab and she left. Where were the folders she was to take to Mr. Lucius.

She couldn’t spend the next four hours in this stall, so she went out to her seat and buckled back in for the rest of the flight. When the attendant came down the isle with a breakfast choice, she passed. Her stomnach couldn't handle it.

She stared out side at the clouds that passed below her.

“Would you like some tea?”

Beth looked up. “Sure.” Maybe some hot tea would settle her stomach a little. She reached up to pull the tray down and her hand froze in place. There above the tray was a phone. A phone she could make calls back to Theresa to see where the folders might be. Maybe they slipped off the bed on to the floor and she didn’t see them that morning while she was rushing around to get ready.

“Here is your hot water and a selection of tea. If there is something you want but it isn’t here let us know, we have a pretty good variety.” The attendant smiled and took her tray back to the cubby hole.

Beth picked up the receiver and read the instructions. In a moment the phone was ringing. “Hello?”

“Theresa; its Beth."

“Beth what is wrong? You should be on the plane by now.”

Beth turned to the window hoping her seat partner wouldn't hear her.

“Therea, I pulled the folders from my carry-on bag and they are my personal files. Can you look in my room to see if they fell off the bed?” She was talking so fast Theresa couldn’t get a word in.

“Beth! Your files are in the suitcase.

‘What?!”

“You put the files on the pile with some clothes. Then your mother called and you put another stack of clothes on top of it. When your mother called, You picked up anther stack and put those on top of the folders. Then you must have picked the whole stack up and put them in the suitcase.”

“Did you see me put them in the suitcase?” Beth demanded in a hushed voice.

“No, and there is nothing in your bedroom. I saw the folders on your bed at one time, I just don’t remember exactly if you might've picked the folders up with the clothes and packedthem in your suitcase.”

The thought modified Beth for th moment. I just hope so. I can't talk on this too long. I'll call you when I get to the hotel.”

She hung the phone in its folder. She would have to suffer until she could get to the hotel and open her suitcase. The rest of the trip was uneventful.

When the plane landed she quickly stood and was ready to leave while the people were waiting for the door to open Beth watched the baggage claim guys throw he cases from the conveyor on to the cart. One of the bags, it looked like hers missed the cart and landed on the ground. Finally the does were open and the first clad passengers moved to the walkway. Beth stopped at the bottom of the ramp to watch the men. The man who threw the bag swung onto the cab and took off. there on the tarmac was he lone black bag. She banged on the window.

No one can hear you. A deep voice spoke .

Beth turned to see one of the passengers. “Look he left the bag out there on the tarmac.”

The tall dark haired man bent and peeked through the window. you're right but he was coming back for it. He stepped aside to let her look.

She saw the,vehicle make a snake turn as he leaned down and snagged the case, flinging it on the back of the cart and drove out of sight into the terminal.

“There, everything is right with the world.” The man offered.

Beth laughed a little. It wasn’t a funny laugh. ‘If you only knew.’ She made her way down the crowded hall toward the baggage claim area. It seemed as though she could hardly see the end of the hallway for the crowds of people. Even with the World Trade (introduce WTC earlier) scheduled to be held here in Seattle, it seemed there were more people here than in New York when she left.

The escalator was jammed with passengers and there was a large group around the elevator. She shook her head, this was crazy.

In the baggage claim area people seemed to be fighting for their luggage. It was hardly on the rails when people were trying to climb over each other to get to them. She frowned. This was the same thing happened the last two times she had flown with Mr. Lucius. She looked around almost expecting to see him standing near the windows while someone else fought the crowd to get his luggage.

Her flight number flashed above the carousel and she watched as others grabbed bags from the conveyor. She saw a black bag coming toward her. It had the red trim, the right tag and leather identity tag. She pushed through the group.

“Excuse me, Excuse me that is my bag coming.” A man tried to step in front of her but a tan coat sleeve reached past her and held the man back from the forward action. The other tan sleeved arm snagged the handle. “Is this the one?”

Beth looked up to see the man she had spoken to in the airplane. “Yes.” She smiled. He was very handsome with a great smile. ‘You can’t trust the cute ones.’ A voice seemed to whisper in her mind. She slammed that door shut.

“Thank you. You saved me from being trampled and having to get into a fight.”

“You are welcome. Any time just call.” He winked and she smiled but turned to find the line of phones with the hotel names and numbers near. She grabbed a phone and dialed the number on the reservation sheet. The phone rang and rang. Just when she thought she would have to call back it went through. The woman on the other end sounded frazzled but said which shuttle to take and they were running two or three more times an hour than normal. Through the glass, Beth saw the hotel’s shuttle and quickly hung up and ran to the shuttle.

The ride to the hotel was noisey with travelers all talking about the up coming convention. There were some very vocal people on both sides of the issue. She kept quiet and let the others get off first even thought she wanted to grab her suitcase and run to the lobby to get there before they tied all the staff up.

The glass doors swished open and the strident voices of unhappy people were blasted at her. If it wasn’t that she was still on edge to find those folders, she would have walked into the restaurant and sat there until the people were done yelling.

She stood quietly to one side and waited figeting and anxious to get her room key card.

“Can I help you?” A man in a tan uniform spoke to her. He didn’t look like the others behind the desk.

“I am waiting to check in.” she stepped back a step away from him.

“I am sure you are. We are so over booked with the on line reservations this may take awhile. Do you have a reservation I can check on?” His tan slacks were pressed to a knife point as if he had never sat in them. The matching shirt with its button down pockets and brass name tag didn’t have a wrinkle in it. The tag just said Michael.

“I guess so.” She was still unsure what to do. None of the others in line even looked her way. He motioned for her to follow him and sat across from him at a desk at the end of the lobby. She handed him her reservation sheet and he typed in the information.

“You have your room and I will get your key card. Please sign in here while I get it.” He stood and walked to the reservation desk. Beth signed the paper and pushed it back to his side of the desk.

“here you are Miss Monroe. Do you need a bellman to take your luggage to your room?” He was standing. His slack showed no sign that he had sat down. The pleats were just as sharp as before.

“No, I can handle it.” She took the card and paper from him and then headed to the elevator. She pushed the up button and looked back at the lobby. There were still people milling around. Some looked at her and were whispering. She looked back at the desk where she had been helped. There was no one there. She looked around the lobby area and tried to see if there was someone there that looked like the man who had helped her. She could see no one that resembled him. He was very tall so he would have been seen if he were behind the reception desk. The elevator bell dinged and the doors slid open, she went in and they closed behind her. How odd. Where was that man?

In her room she dropped her carry on bag and purse. Grabbing the handle of the suitcase she flung it on the bed. Using her little key she opened the TSA approved lock and unzipped the cover. When she flipped open the top she gasped and her body went completely cold. She felt as if her heart had stopped.

This suitcase was not hers. In the case, tightly wrapped were what she suspected to be blocks of some kind of drug. She had seen pictures on TV of confiscated drugs taken by police on raids. This looked like the same kind of packages. Cellophane wrapped squares taped closed and packed tightly in over half the case. What she saw in the other half almost caused her to feint. There was bubble wrapped items that she could see through and inside each package were guns. Tucked along the edges were wrapped ammunition cartridges. Her body began to shake she could hardly stand so moved to the other bed and sat down. Her blood was moving like molasses in winter. She could hardly breathe. She gasped sucking in the air as if it were going to be her last. The heat, awful heat suffused her body and she began to sweat. She could feel the beads growing on her face and her hands were wet. She curled up on the bed. What was she supposed to do?

All the cops TV shows she watched showed police handcuffing everyone involved and arresting them as co-conspirators. She was picturing herself in a cell with prostitutes, drug addicts and killers, waiting for a court case. She still didn’t know if the papers for her boss are in her suitcase. All she wanted was the suitcase back. She sprang to a sitting position. That was it. She just needed to get her case back! She would take this one to the airport leave it in the baggage claim and get hers back.

Confident that she was doing the right thing she grabbed her purse and her ticket with the baggage claim number on it. She checked it against the one on her bed and it wasn’t a match. She knew this already, but the ammunition was to be confident. She looked at the leather identity tag. Where she had her business card inserted, this one had a blank piece of paper with WENDY printed on it and nothing else. She zipped it closed, pulled the bag off the bed and headed to the hall, making sure the door locked behind her.

Punching the button to the elevator she waited. Seconds seemed like minutes. She looked out the window down to the hotel entrance below. She saw a the shuttle leave and a cab coming around the corner. Without a second thought she burst through the stairwell door and ran down the four flights of stairs to the main floor and out into the lobby. She didn’t look for the man who helped her but headed straight for the revolving door and out into the portico.

The man had paid the driver when she called out, “Wait! I need that cab.”

The driver, an Arab looking man, in linen slacks and a matching lightweight shirt stepped toward her reaching for the suitcase.

She held up her hand, out of breath, “No, thanks. I need to get to the airport-“

She was interrupted by another male voice yelling as he ran toward them. “Stop! I need that cab. I’m sorry but I have an emergency meeting at the airport and I need this cab. How fast can you get there? I will pay you extra.” He didn’t even look at Beth.

The cab driver looked from one to the other. “You are going to the same place. Get in.”

“Fine.” The other man grabbed her case threw into the back seat, “get in I don’t have time to waste.”

Beth was shocked but got in the cab while the man ran around to the other side and got in slamming the door.

”Let’s get going!” he hollered at the driver.

The cab jerked and Beth was pressed into the back seat as the cab pulled into the traffic. The cab driver was very good. He also had lots of chutzpa. The cab wove in and out of traffic with Beth and the guy who worked for the TSA at the airport, she could read the patch on his sleeve, were tossed from side to side in the back seat.

The cab had a order of spiciness she couldn’t define. It may have been the cooking scents left on the driver’s clothes. She had been around commuters that ate lots of garlic and Kimchee. It stayed on their clothes and leaked out of their pores. This scent was different. Not a cologne, but like some kind of dinner he may have packed for later.

There wasn’t much she could see of the city the way they were weaving in and out of traffic, and going down side streets. Her view was mostly back alleys, industrial buildings and train tracks. She hoped that at some point she would see Seattle.

Beth kept one hand on the handle of the suitcase and the other on the door handle. She was going to be bruised by the time she got to the airport. She saw the entrance to the airport ahead.

“I need to go to the baggage claim area?” she called out to the driver. She saw him glance back at her and then at the other man.

“Departures for me. Drop me first I have to clock in and I am already late. I don’t think time is quite the issue for you. As you first go into the area pull over and I will get out.” There was no question; just a statement and he looked away. The driver glanced over at Beth and shrugged. He pulled into the lane where everyone was being dropping off travelers.

The driver pulled over at the beginning of the entrances marked by the different airline check-in kiosks. The man jumped out, pulled out his wallet, gave the driver a bill and took off jogging toward the first set of doors.

“Do you want me to take you around to the arrivals? I have to go there anyway.” The driver offered.

“Sure.” What difference did it make? She needed to get there anyway, what was a couple of minutes longer?

There was a long line of cars and shuttles in the lanes for the arrivals.

“If you don’t mind, I can just go into the cab line and you can get out and walk across the lanes to the terminal.”

“Sure.” He pulled out and went into the cab section and stopped at the end of the line. He quickly got out and came around to open her door. When she started to pull the case along with her, he stopped her, “Let me pull it out for you.”

Beth stepped out and he pulled the case out and extended the handle for her. She was pulling her wallet out of her purse when he held his hand up to stop. “The gentleman paid more than enough for both of you. There is no need to pay.”

She stopped and looked him in the eye, “Are you sure?” She hadn’t seen what the man had paid and she didn’t want this man to think she would cheat him.

He nodded and held out the handle of the case to her. She took it and nodded to him then made her way to the crosswalk.













• * * *



Mufid nodded to the other drivers that were leaning against their cabs waiting to move up in line. He got back into his cab. What an odd day this was. He pulled out the three twenty’s the man had slipped him and wondered if he knew he had given him that much. Forty dollars would have been more than enough. The hotel wasn’t that far from the airport except they had gone the back route to avoid traffic. The road then entered the main highway near the Airport entrance. He was dropping of his fares in record time and was back in line for another run.

The cab line was long. With free shuttles to the hotels and limo’s picking up dignitaries for the convention, he wasn’t moving too fast to the front of the line.

He reached for the small leather covered book he hid in the visor cover. Every time he opened this book his heart beat faster. At first he thought it was fear, as if something was going to come down from the sky and strike him dead, set his cab on fire or worse, someone would see what he was reading and call him out.

Akar would have killed him on the spot, if he saw the book, and dumped his body so far down a hole no one, not even Allah would come for him.

When he had arrived in the United States, his ‘handler’ as he called Akar showed him around the city and taught him all he needed to know about living here. The older man had been in the United states for many years, going back and forth to Iran once or twice a year. He wanted to retire, go back to his homeland and die there. Mufid was here to take his place. There was a new home purchased in Kent, a suburb of Seattle. Mufid and his wife moved in and it was remodeled to accommodate a small guest suite with a couple of bedrooms. Throughout the last five years, he kept track of the “guests’ that had come through his house, but couldn’t remember how many unless he looked in his log book This book was something he alone knew about and kept it hidden in a secret compartment in the desk at his home office.

Akar had drilled into him that there were cell members all over that watched his every move, one misstep and we would be worm fodder.

He had taken the job as a cab driver to mingle in society without being obtuse. He had been able to go in and out of society and no one noticed him or his ‘guests.’ The young men had been placed in apartments purchased and paid for by the other members of the cell. He had hid his hatred of the western social world under a layer of subservience. It worked well for him.

His children were born and his wife took care of them at home. They were taken to the local mosque for schooling in religion. His son Caleeb, now four was learning some English. He wanted to play outside with the other children in the neighborhood. Mudfid was reluctant to allow that and have him watching TV, seeing what other children were brainwashed with, and then wanting the same thing. His Daugter, Jada, was two and a half and loved her brother. She followed him everywhere.

A honk woke him from his reverie and he saw there was a large space between him and the cab in front of his. He started his cab and moved forward. He turned the engine off and picked up the small book again. There was something about this book that affected him. Each time he read in it there was an interest to know more.

He would have never touched this book a year ago. He was busy with his family and involved in the Mosque he attended. The life was comfortable even boring at times. He looked around and wondered what the fuss was about. Everyone went their way, unconcerned about the life outside of their immediate circle. Except for the news media that broadcasted every incident in the war torn countries around the United states, its citizens were immune to the needs of these helpless people.

At times he was angered by what he read and saw on the small TV he hid in their bedroom. When he read stories on the internet he became angry at the policies of the country he was living in. There were days when he wanted to pack his family up and move back to Iran. Even then he knew it was not safe. People were dying all the time for the cause. Here he was safe and that made him feel guilty.

He watched the people move into the terminal. The lines above to drop off passengers were backed up into the main entrance. Some people had opted to drop off below in the pick-up area. He saw a car stop across from him and an older couple get out. They looked familiar and in a moment he knew who they were. It was Daniel and Grace.

This couple lived two doors down from Mufid and Mari. When they had first moved into the house, Daniel and Grace came to help them move in. Their offer was rebuffed. Mufid was embarrassed by the way he had treated their many offers of friendship.

Over the years, Daniel had spoken to him at every opportunity. There were loaves of sweet bread and cookies in colorful containers left on their porch. If Daniel and Grace saw them in the course of shopping they would stop and ask how they were doing, compliment their children and their yard. Grace would come to Mari and offer to help with her garden and bring her plants.

Mari did not want to resist the friendship. She was lonely with Mufid gone all day and she was alone with the children. Grace would come and sit on the porch with Mari and talk to her about what her life was like in Iran. When Mufid would grill Mari about their conversation, he soon learned Grace never asked why they came, who their guests where or why they came and left.

There was no question as to the high fence that enclosed their back yard or why neighborhood children didn’t play there.

When a pipe burst in the house and Mari could not get a hold of Mufid, she called Grace. Daniel came right over and turned off the water, found the leak and fixed it. The fans he brought were drying the house and all was well by the time Mufid got home. He was angry at Mari for not calling him. More than that he was angry he had ignored Mari’s calls. He was in a meeting with the leader of his cell and could not take the call even if he had wanted to. Her calling and Daniel and Grace coming were a thorn in his side. Now he had to thank them.

Daniel accepted his thanks and his offer to pay, but said it was not needed, that’s what neighbors did. Mufid did not agree. He had seen the attitude of his other neighbors on the street. The snubbed him when they met shopping, or going about the daily grind of living. None of the others waved as they left their driveways as they did to the others on the street. Their children did not play with his (not that he would have allowed it) but they didn’t come to ask. Not all neighbors were friendly and he was one of them.

One day Mufid could not keep the question that burned in his mouth for weeks,inside. He burst out with, “Why are you so different than everyone else around here?” Mufid’s question was more of an accusation than a question.

Daniel’s answer was not a surprise but is did not answer his question. “I am a Christian.”

“That is not an answer. Everyone in the United States is a Christian.” He spat.

“No they are not.” Daniel had gone on to explain just as there were moderate muslims, there were radical ones too that wanted only to kill anyone that believed differently than they did.

Mufid cringed inside as he described Mufid and the cell. If he knew who he was speaking to he would never have said what he was saying.

Daniel went on to say that God loved everyone, he just did not always love the choices they made. Daniel chose to listen to God and do what he thought would make God pleased. Mufid wanted to run back to his house with his hands over his ears. But he had stayed to listen. While there was internal screaming in his head, there was a calm curiosity about what Christians believed.

His talks with Daniel revealed the Bible was similar to the Qu’ran in some respects. He found out, that because there were so many men interpreting the word differently, they each had a church that people could choose what they wanted to hear.

After a few of these sessions, Daniel offered to give Mufid a bible to compare it to the Qur’an. He found that many of the words were similar.

While he hid the little book, there was something that kept him opening and reading it.

In the evening he was go through the back gate and down the alley to the Falnder’s back gate and slip through it. He would knock on the back door. The light never went on and Daniel would open the door and take him to his study. The curtains were closed and the only light in the room was the desk lamp. They sat across from each other and Daniel answered his questions. There was a hunger to know more.

When Daniel read the words in John chapter one, it was as if someone was reciting from the Qur’an. It too talked of the Messiah, Jesus son of Mary, was a messenger of God and his Word that he committed to Mary.

How could his people be so different? When the words were the same, how could his people want to kill everyone in Allah’s name?

“Did they serve the same God?” he asked Daniel one night. Is the god you serve loving? Does he forgive you for the sin you were born with and those you have commited in your life? Once forgiven, dose he never remember them or bring them to you?”

That was question he had never thought. There were just rules to obey and actions of hatred imposed along with plans to overthrow every government until all were ruled by Allah and his servents.

David had smiled and reminded him of Isreal’s seven day war and how God promised the land to Abraham and that Isreal would never be again controlled by others.

Immediately a hatred welled in Mufid and he argued with Daniel that he was a son of Abraham and It was his birthright too as the first descendent of Abaraham. Daniel did not ralley and argue back, he nodded and said he was right. The air went out of Mufid. But the promise was to Abrahm and Sari. Not just to Abrham. Sari giving him her handmaden did not fulfill the promise. What would you do if you were God and someone tried to slip one over on you?”

Mufid thought long about what Daniel said and later came to him agreeing that the promise should go to the linage that it was promised to. The words were bitter in his mouth, but there was a peace in his heart.

Daniel had put his hand on Mufid’s shoulder. “But we are heirs to that same promise. Not a piece of ground that will passaway, but to an eternal home with God himself. Whichwould you rather have?”

That was the question that bothered Mufid. He kept reading the little New Testament that Daniel gave him. The words burned inside him as he read them.

His eyes followed the couple they had told him they were going to Australia, to visit their daughter, for a month. It was winter there but it was the best time for Daniel and Grace to go.

He moved the cab up a few more car lengths and watched at others got into the act of dropping off at the arrival doors. It was the old model, black, Subaru that caught his attention.

He saw the officer directing traffic looked a little familiar. At a closer look he saw it was the man from his cab earlier. He was angry. The curt blows of the whistle were almost nonstop. No one was exempt, the people walking across the street or the people pulling up to either drop off or pick up passengers. He was especially hard on the drop offs. When the Subaru pulled up and almost ran him over he blew the whistle like his life depended on it. He choked and gasped as he went to the car. Three men exited they flung their messenger bags over their shoulder and pulled a rolling case behind them. The cases were on the heavy side as they wobbled as they rolled on their thin plastic wheels.

Mufid frowned and looked again at the three men and the one in the car. He knew all four of them. They had all been guests at his house during the last year or more. He remembered a couple of their names but that was all. He had all their information logged into his computer at home. He kept records of each guest, what cell he came from and what amenities they were to be given.

Now here they were, at the same time, going into an airport. The officer slammed his hand down flat on the Subaru’s hood. He pointed his finger for the man to get the car out of the area and on his way. There was little room for the man to move and he held up his hands, palm up and shrugged. This made the security man even more angry and he stopped a car in the next lane to let the Subaru go on ahead. The man bowed his head four distinct times to the officer before moving on.

That act in itself probably meant nothing to anyone watching but to Mufid, it was significant. That action had a meaning. There was going to be a death today and it would involve all four of those men. The calculated the information. Four men, three rolling cases, three messenger bags and possible a fourth man in the works if the driver was involved.

His body was numb. His blood seemed to have stopped moving. The began pounding with a force.

“Allah what do I do?” He whispered out loud. There was no responding answer. Then he did the unthinkable. “God if you are really there, should I tell someone or is this your work?”

He waited and the picture of Daniel and Grace walking into the airport quickly came to him. Then the memory of Daniel’s kind face as he had ranted about the Christian infidels. The face of Grace sitting with his children while he took his wife to a hospital with an infection came next. The memory of how Daniel had placed his hand on his wife’s head a prayed and with in the hour the fever had gone down and to the surprise of the dr and nurses, there was no sign of the infection. Daniel had smiled and said it was no surprise to him.

Mufid had no idea why these thoughts were coming to him but he knew he needed to talk more with Daniel and if he were dead that opportunity would be lost.

He pulled the cab out of line and the other cab drivers looked at him and frowned. Mufid kept driving around to the short term parking lot. Oblivious of the looks and hand gestures of other drivers he cut off, he ran into the Airport.







* * *



Anthony slid in the door and to the computer to clock in. His superior walked around the corner at the same time.

“Carlton, your’re late.” The bark of Sam Bernard was just as bad as his bite.

“Sorry, My car didn’t start this morning. I have no idea why.It was running great last night. I will have it check out right away. I had to take a cab in and even going the back route it was slow. I can’t believe all the traffic coming in. I-“

“Enough. I have all the assignments given. Go down and help traffic in arrivals for now. We are going to be short staffed I can feel it. This day is going to be a disaster if we don’t get it under control right now.” He went to the desk.

“Dana, has. Mr. Quincy Bohman arrived yet or called in?”

“No Sir, I will contact you as soon as he gets in or calls.” She tried to smile but she must have answered that same question from him before. Anthony might have smiled but he went to the closet and pulled a neon vest from the hook. If he swore he would have but that was in his training. No swearing, using alcohol or smoking. He was a devout follower, stronger than others who had consumed the infidels alcohol and cigarettes as well as others who while professing devout faith, imbibed coffee. He had on occasion had a cup. His mother drank coffee so he had developed a taste as a young person. When his mother died and he made his decision to follow in his father’s faith, he gave up everything.

No one at his work knew he was Muslim. He did not look very arab. At least that was because he was careful to portray a very all American boy image.

He was far from that. His mother had been at the university in Southern California when she was asked to Tutor an Arab student. The tutor became more that academic. Whe she told him she was pregnant he shrugged. The tutoring was over. She was given a lump sum of money and a yearly stipened to care for the young child as long as there was never any communication between them or all monetary support would be withdrawn.

Anthony had found this out when he was fourteen. His mother told him about his father. Who he was and Anthony had followed him in the news and on the internet. At sixteen he needed his father and sent him a letter through the company he worked for. During a six month period, Anthony, without telling his mother, had sent three letters.

One day when he arrived home from school he found his mother in the kitchen instead of at her job. She was sad and on the table was an opened evelope and a piece of paper unfolded but not lying flat. She motioned for him to sit.

“Mom, what is wrong?” he tried to take the paper but she laid her hand flat on it with one hand and smacked the back of his with the other.

“Why did you do it?” she asked wearily.

“Do what?” he frowned trying to read the signature on the letter.

“Why did you try to contact your father? We talked about this. When I told you who he was, I said we were never to contact him. It was enough you knew and that should have been the end of it.” She used that voice all mother’s do to lay guilt on the child for disappointing them.

“So what? I just wanted to know if he cared about who I was and what I was doing?”

“Has he contacted us in sixteen years?” she countered.

“How would I know? You don’t tell me anything.” His voice rose and broke a little. He stopped and cleared his throat and spoke again, this time in the deeper register. “You keep secrets.”

“All parents do. It is for the best interest of the children. Knowledge should be given as needed and when it can be understood. You will have to understand the consequences of your actions now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There was an agreement between your father and I. As long as I had no contact with him, I would have financial support for you and I until you were eighteen. There is a college fund for you and after that you are on your own.” She stopped and waited for it all to sink in.

The cold reality of what they had and the letter made his body freeze in place. He looked at his mother. The tears she had tried to keep inside now flowed down her cheeks.

“What if I tell him I will never contact him again? What if I call the company and send him a note that I am sorry?” he was desperate now.

“It is too late.”She pushed the letter across to Anthony. There was the last two letters he sent, unopened and a sheet of paper with just a few words.

“You have broken our contract. All financial assistance will be withdrawn from this date forward.”

It was dated and there was just a stamped signature as if it were handled by his secretary. He didn’t even bother to sign the letter himself or add any explaination.

“He needs no explanation, he terminated our support. All the things you have enjoyed up to now are all you have of your father. From now on, we are on our own. This house is paid for, thank goodness, but that is it.” She stood and put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “I understand your action. I didn’t tell you about the contract, because I just never found the time. You didn’t seem interested in him or want to talk about him so I just ignored it. I see now I should have at least shared the contract information. I am so tired. I don’t know why but I am going to lie down for a while.”

Anthony sat in the same spot staring at the letter for a long time. He couldn’t fathom that this man would do that. Cut them off because his son sent him a letter. He didn’t even know if he was married or had other children. There was very little on the internet about him. Salim Abaddi, Anthony’s father was one of the top official in one of the largest economically prosperous companies in the world. Anasari Investment Group was a parent company to many smaller companies. Salim was governor of a number of these small companies. That much Anthony knew. He also knew that his father was Muslim.

He stepped out on to the sidewalk outside the door of the baggage claim. He had heard there was an accident inside and he needed to keep the area clear for the ambulance.

A dark colored Subaru wove in and out of traffic. He could see it moving in his direction and eventually slid into a spot near the curb. The men inside were familiar. He glanced at his watch, right on time. He acted angry and smacked his hand on the hood. Eventually the men got out of the car and he maneuvered it out of the traffic and on its way.

“Towel Heads.” He muttered out loud as he motioned for the pedestrians to walk across.

“That is rude, especially coming from an authority figure.” A woman glared at him as she pulled her luggage behind her and shooed her family ahead of her. If she only knew, he thought.

The sound of sirens was heard and he began directing traffic on the other side of the street. There were shouts of anger an inconvenience. He ignored them and waved cars to the outside lanes clearing an area for the ambulance. Once the drivers saw the flashing lights and heard the sirens, they moved away and made another circuit around the airport.

Anthony watched as the gurney was dropped out of the back and the four EMS run into the airport. Anthony went back to directing traffic.

A few minutes later one of the supervisors, came to the curb and gave him a two finger whistle and motioned for him come to the curb.

“We have an issue in Baggage claim go over to Carousel 6 and see if you can help out there.

Anthony nodded and looked at his watch. It was 12:30