Rick Mofina - Every Second

“Okay.”

“Nazihah and her sons have brought shame upon our family. When she came here, she always complained, she never even tried to fit in. Her husband, Andrew, was a good man, but she was not happy here. She was always critical of US policy. You know that her son Malcolm went to prison for robbery, then murdered a police officer and was shot.”

“Yes.”

“In her twisted thinking, Nazihah said it was the fault of the US government and its policies that Malcolm was shot. She believed in some fantasy conspiracy and moved back to Afghanistan. Jerricko, Malcolm’s brother, didn’t want to leave the US at first. He was never the same after his brother’s death. He started hanging out with the wrong people. We know because he recently tried to pull John into his circles.”

Kate turned to the younger man.

“It’s true. He messaged me online, told me how much he respected and admired me for my work at Hunter.”

“Did you hang out with him much?”

“He came to our place and we went out a few times. But he was just like his mom-all he ever wanted to talk about was the corruption of America and how everyone here was greedy and sinful. But he was never open to talking about it or letting anyone argue with him. I knew things were getting out of control after he’d told me that he’d used a stolen and altered passport to go to Afghanistan to visit his mom. When he came back, he kept sending me online links to read, extremist stuff that his mom had sent him. He was always denouncing the US and Israel as part of a global system of oppression. I mean, some of the stuff he talked about was true-there are tons of pretty horrible things that happen all the time. But he’d show me all these jihadi sites, stuff that was way too intense, and tried to convince me to join him and his friends.”

“Were you interested?”

John shook his head.

“People are entitled to their opinions,” John said. “You can argue that US foreign policy is flawed and Jerricko’s friends make good points, but it doesn’t mean I should rush out and cut somebody’s head off. That’s doesn’t improve things. I think these guys are off-the-chart crazy with their need for revenge.”

Kate nodded.

“So,” Bert said, “when we saw the news about Jerricko and the bank manager, the robbery and the bomb vests in Queens, we were so ashamed and disgusted. That’s why we’re going to the FBI this morning-in case we can answer any questions that could help them.”

“They don’t know you’re coming?”

“No. We’ll show up and tell them what we just told you,” Bert said. “I’m certain they’ll be very interested in talking with us. Last night, when my cousin in California called about you, I’m thinking, I must have the truth be known that our family denounces this and we have no part in it. That is why we’re speaking to you first, so the press hears this, too. Please, you must understand.”

“I do.”

“Okay, so here’s the thing,” John said. “Jerricko was trying to recruit me to their cause because I’m a chemist. They said if I helped them it would be part of something ‘really big, glorious and monumental,’ and that was going to happen very soon.”

“Did they mean the robbery using the bomb vests?”

“No,” John said. He looked around nervously, but Kate gave him a reassuring smile, nodding at him that it was okay to continue. “I think the robbery’s only the beginning.”

“Beginning of what?”

“I’m not sure. Something bigger,” Bert said, glancing at his watch. “We have to go now.”

“Wait,” Kate said. “I need to see some ID, so I know who I’m talking to?”

Unease spread across the older man’s face.

“My editors will think I made this all up,” Kate said. “I need to confirm your identity, but we won’t publish your names. I’ll protect you as sources, but I need to see ID.”

After a moment’s hesitation, both men produced wallets with photo ID. The father’s real name was Walid Sattar, and his son was Omar. After she photographed their IDs and made notes, both men got up and disappeared into Grand Central’s chaos.

Kate sat there for a moment absorbing what she’d just heard. It was astounding. Then she left and hurried down East Forty-Second Street half a block to the lobby of the Grand Hyatt, glad she’d alerted the photo desk to her meeting. Nothing was going to slip through her fingers this time.

Kate sat on one of the cushioned benches near the registration desk. Two minutes later, Strobic joined her. During her meeting at the Grabbin Run with Bert and his son, Strobic had positioned himself unseen at the next food vendor, taking pictures of Walid and Omar.

Strobic showed them to her, a series of crisp shots, clearly identifying the faces of the men, frame after frame. Kate would protect their identities, but if anything happened, she now had evidence of the meeting.

“Good work, Stan,” she said as her phone rang.

“Kate Page, Newslead.”

“Kate, it’s Thane in the newsroom. You’re with Strobic, right?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“We need you to get up to the Blue Coyote Mountains, about two or three hours north. I’ll get you directions. We’ve got a major break.”

“What happened?”

“They found Dan Fulton’s body.”

Coyote Mountains, New York

Lori kept waking, sleeping and waking again.

We’re still alive.

She lay there in the twilight, shivering under the vest as Billy slept with his head on her chest. Birdsong echoed with the rustle, cluck and screech of small creatures moving through the forest. Lori listened for sounds of any approaching threat until the sun rose, bathing the woods in light and the horror churning inside her erupted.

Dan’s dead! Oh God! Dan!

She covered her mouth with both hands to silence her sobs, but her anguished spasms woke Billy. Cold replaced his warmth against her as he went behind a tree a few yards away and relieved himself.

Lori regained a degree of composure and studied him closely, touching his cheek when he returned to her side. His eyes were reddened because he’d cried much of the night. Stress lines were carved deep into his face.

“How are you doing, sweetie?”

Billy shrugged.

“Do you want to talk?”

He shook his head, but then he nodded.

“What is it, honey?”

“Did they really kill Dad?”

Lori stared into his eyes and nodded, pulling him to her and holding him as they both wept. She was numb. None of this was real. How could it be real?

Dan, tell me. What am I supposed to do now?

When their tears subsided, she brushed his cheeks.

“We just have to keep going, okay?”

“But how can we, without Dad?”

“I know, honey. I know it’s hard, but we have to do this. Dad would want us to keep going.”

He nodded.

“Do you think they killed Sam, too?”

“No, I don’t. I believe in my heart that Sam’s okay and he’s waiting to see you again.”

Billy considered her words carefully as he absorbed them.

“I’m thirsty,” he said. “And hungry.”

“Me, too. Let’s see what’s in here.”

She hefted the backpack, positioned it on her lap and pulled out the bottled water, which she passed to Billy. As he drank she opened a package of twelve chocolate-iced donuts. They ate two each, careful to save the rest.

“Mom, what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to find a way out of here.”

Lori pulled out the laptop and turned it on. The computer came to life, and she immediately tried to get on to the internet. But it was futile. There was no signal and no capability to find one. They had no way of reaching help.