Stacie Vandercoy wanted to rush out and hug Julianna Perry, but it wasn’t appropriate for her current role. Instead, she watched her friend lift her abaya with gloved hands, only an inch so as not to show anything tempting, in order to navigate the steps while trying to see through a double veil.
Waving hello, or even speaking to her long-time friend, Nathan “Patches” Perry, was an even bigger no-no. That would be a total give-away to anyone watching and Stacie was sure someone was watching. She could feel them.
She’d swept her temporary home for bugs the minute she’d arrived that morning and identified every audio and visual device Homeland had installed for her safety and reporting purposes. Then she’d opened windows to air out the fresh paint fumes. The curtains were sheer enough to let in sunlight yet the dense geometric designs to hide her movements.
The two women cordially greeted at the door, and Nathan left without saying a word to Stacie. He couldn’t speak to her. It was forbidden.
After Stacie and Julianna were securely inside, Stacie was ready to burst with the excitement of working with Jul again. As she turned around, she found Jul throwing off the floor-length black cloth along with the niqab that had covered her long dark hair and all of her pretty face. Stacie followed her lead and quickly took hers off as well, then hung everything on one of the many hooks on the back of the front door. As a Christian woman raised in America, she found the mandatory clothing oppressive, as well as hot. At least Norfolk was cooler than Iraq had been.
Both women wore jeans and designer blouses underneath. Once Stacie was embedded into the fundamentalist Muslim sect, she’d be forced to wear all black, loose-fitting clothes that covered every inch of her body.
They kicked off their black shoes and set them in the cabinet that ran along the wall of the foyer. In a Muslim home, one did not wear shoes that could contaminate the home with the uncleanliness that lived outside.
“It is so good to see you, Stace.” Jul held open her welcoming arms, and Stacie nearly fell into them. She had missed this wonderful woman more than she could believe. She just wanted to hold Jul and say “Thank you, thank you,” over and over again. She could never repay her friend for helping save her life in Iraq.
After a long, much needed minute, Stacie stepped back and stared down at her friend’s distended belly.
“How far along are you?” Stacie asked in amazement, noting another significant fact her mission briefing hadn’t included. Nor had it mentioned anything about her partner for this op, even the man’s name. She briefly wondered if that had been on purpose but waived off the thought, concentrating on Jul.
“I’m only at six and a half months, but Nathan won’t let me work out with him anymore so I’m getting fat.” Jul lovingly caressed her rounded abdomen. “I can’t even go for a walk without him at my side thanks to the Hisbah.”
Stacie’s mouth fell open. “You mean they have the religious police enforcing Sharia law over here?”
Jul nodded and straightened her back. “She’s moving around so much these days.”
“Come, sit down.” Stacie pointed to the white couch overflowing with brown and blue pillows, some solid and others in a similar pattern that seemed to be everywhere throughout the room.
Jul pointed to the dark brown chair angled toward the couch on the edge of the geometric rug. “At least they decorated your place with modern furniture.” Using the arms that were barely six inches above the seat, she sank down into the low chair. “With our place, they went totally in the other direction. We have heavily brocaded furniture, ornate Persian rugs, gold accented woodwork, deep burgundy everything, even the walls. Definitely not my style.” She shifted and seemed to relax. “But it beats the base housing we had when Nathan rejoined SEAL Team 4 and I went back to Naval Intelligence headquarters. Thank goodness we were only there for two years before we got assigned this mission.”
Stacie looked around the house the agency had provided and decorated for them. The clean white walls were adorned with stylized Arabic calligraphy, the furniture white, chrome, glass, and minimalistic. Compared to where she and Jeff had lived in Iraq, this house was in the stratosphere.
“Yeah,” Stacie agreed. “It’s a pretty nice place.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Jul looked relieved.
Stacie held her friend’s gaze. “Is it that bad?”
Jul slowly shook her head as though in disbelief. “They control their followers as if we’re back in Tikrit in the year nine-hundred. Nathan told me a woman was whacked on the head with a cane the other day because her eyes were too pretty and could be seen through her veils.” Jul glanced over at Stacie. “You’re going to have to be careful. Your eyes get almost golden sometimes. Maybe you should consider contacts for this op. Her husband was fined a thousand dollars for her indiscretion and received five lashes.”
“No,” Stacie almost yelled. “That kind of thing doesn’t happen over here. This is the United States of America.”
“That’s Sharia law. You know it as well as I do,” Jul accused. “This new cell is dangerous. Where they live doesn’t matter to them…Iraq; Pakistan; Iran; or Norfolk, Virginia. For them, there is no separation of church and state. Church law is the only law. Those who don’t abide are punished accordingly, no matter what our Constitution says.”
“This just pisses me off.” Stacie glared at Jul. “You and I fought in the damned sand so this shit wouldn’t spread its hate all over in the Middle East, and now it’s here, in our back yard. What the fuck?”
Jul gave her a sarcastic smile. “Better watch that language. As soon as we bring you and Jeff in, you’d be punished for those words. Let me assure you, those women gossip and tattle to their husbands. You’d be dragged before a Sharia court in a heartbeat.” She stared down at the baby growing within her. “And you’d bust our cover as well as yours.” Jul warned without looking up.
The immense responsibility Stacie now had hit her in the gut. “I would never do that to you. I owe you and Nathan my life.” She had to tie down her anger toward ISIS and focus on her mission.
Mission. Yes, that’s what they were supposed to talk about. “So, what exactly is it that I’m supposed to do? All my briefing said was that I’m here to support you and Nathan…and of course, my partner.”
As she said the last word out loud, Stacie made the connection.
Partner. Jul had said…Jeff.
The jab caught her in the solar plexus. Stacie struggled for air as she ran the previous conversation over again in her head.
“You okay?” Jul leaned toward her, concern written all over her small, delicate face. “Should I get you some water?”
Stacie forced in a breath. “Did you say…Jeff?”
“Yeah, Jeff.” Then as though she realized a mistake, Jul quickly added, “Oh, sweetie, don’t worry. They won’t take you and Jeff like Abd Al-Rashid had back in Iraq. We won’t let that happen this time.”
Jul totally misunderstood Stacie’s anxiety. She swallowed hard and asked with a steady voice, “I’m working with Jeff? Again?”
“You didn’t know?” Jul raised an eyebrow. “Nathan asked for him specifically. Jeff has been in Quantico and Langley training for the past several months for this op.”
Jul then added, “He asked for you. Jeff did.”
“What?” Stacie’s gaze met Jul’s. “Why?”
“Everything went well with the two of you in Cancun, didn’t it?” Jul’s eyes searched Stacie’s face, probably looking for any indication otherwise.
She couldn’t let Jul see how working with Jeff again had affected her. “Everything went great.” Stacie smiled half-heartedly. “I shot a terrorist.”
“They let you in on a takedown?” Incredulity laced Jul’s voice. “No way.”
Stacie’s smile turned real. “Josh said I deserved in, and I geared up right next to the Mexican version of the F.B.I. and a bunch of former SEALs.” Then she laughed, “My handle was Wonder Woman.” They both laughed, releasing the tension in the air.
The operation had been awesome. Sneaking through a known safe house for human traffickers in search of terrorists, wearing a gas mask so she could breathe and see after the flash bangs had deafened and blinded the tangoes—being an integral part of that team had been the most rewarding thing she’d done in her career. Taking out one of the bad guys was just her job and she’d pulled the trigger without hesitation. Secretly, shooting that terrorist had felt good after what his colleagues had done to her.
She’d trained beside men for years and that day, she’d been treated as an equal. Then, they got to save a little boy, Jack’s nephew, from being sold into the pedophile sex trade. Best day of her life.
She loved her job with Homeland and didn’t want to do anything to screw it up. They thought she could work side by side with Jeff. Well, she could do that. She was a professional. Only thing was, how she was going to resist him this time?
“Maybe they’ll let you in on this one, too,” Jul suggested. “I wouldn’t mind taking out a few of them myself, or their wives. Some of the women are so condescending toward Americans, it’s terrible. There is just so much hate in them for our way of life, I wonder why they’re even here. However, I can’t get a straight answer to any of my questions, and I don’t dare ask too many. With the baby, I can’t afford the wrath of the Hisbah.” She stroked her belly.
Bringing the conversation back to what Stacie thought her job was supposed to be, she summarized, “We all four gather HUMINT, and pass the information on to Josh, right?”
“Yes, basically.” Jul looked away then back at Stacie. “These men are crazy. They’re planning something really big. And soon. Nathan hasn’t been let in on the strategy yet because he’s relatively new to the group. But he catches bits and pieces. On the other hand, they’re recruiting so fast, building the cell with American-born Muslim college students, their doctrine and rapid growth scares both of us.”
“Your cover is strong, right?” Stacie was well aware of the depths the Navy Special Warfare Command went to when building a background for field agents, but she also knew shit happened on the ground that no one could anticipate.
“They believe we were sent here from Iraq and that cover is holding. My pregnancy seems to be a big thing.” She blushed. “Even though so many of the women are pregnant. Maybe it’s a manhood thing.” She lowered her voice an octave. “I’m a real man because I can get my wife knocked up. I must have a big dick.” Both women burst out laughing. Jul finally got herself under control. “You know how men can be.”
Stacie nodded agreement, but she really didn’t know how men were when they were together. She was the oldest of four girls and her father had been overwhelmed with an estrogen enriched home, so he’d spent a great deal of his free time with his brothers watching TV in one basement or another. No woman dared invade a man cave, especially when the Cubs were playing.
Her only long-term relationship, if four months could be considered long term, had been with a guy at college. They’d had to hide their relationship because he’d been a Firstie, a senior, and she had been a Youngster, a sophomore. That kind of fraternization had been against the rules, and they could have been kicked out of the Naval Academy for it. She’d been determined to graduate, with high honors, and receive a commission. A career serving her country was all she’d ever wanted.
When he’d left for flight school, they’d drifted apart. His calls became less and less frequent. Her studies had become of utmost importance to her. In retrospect, she’d been in love for the first time, but was little more than a booty call for him. Another vital lesson learned.
Jul was talking when Stacie stepped out of her past. “Nathan is just a lowly soldier for them, useful because he speaks English so well. No kidding. He was born and raised here. True, his grandparents—who consider themselves Persian rather than Iranian—emigrated here ten years before the revolution of 1979.” She looked at Stacie. “If the cell’s command had any idea who and what he is…” She shuddered.
Redirecting the conversation back to their mission, Stacie prodded, “Does Nathan believe his cover is in danger?”
Jul nodded her head. “He’s supposed to be going to campuses up and down the East Coast recruiting American-born Muslim men ages eighteen to twenty-five. They’re the most easily influenced. But Nathan just can’t do that. He can’t sell these young kids on their doctrine. He doesn’t believe what he’s saying and that comes through.”
Light shone on the whole situation at that moment. “So, Jeff is Nathan’s new ready-to-go recruit?”
“Yes,” Jul’s excitement lit up her face. “Exactly.”
“And that makes me….?” Stacie waited for an answer.
It didn’t come.
Finally, Jul looked at her with eyes begging for her to understand. “If Jeff were single, they’d find him a wife. Probably ship one in specifically for him. She’d come in on a student visa, and they’d be married within weeks. If he shows up with a wife, he bypasses that entire level. If he comes in seemingly committed to their fundamentalist way of life, he skips the months of indoctrination. Otherwise, they might ship him to Syria for advanced training in the doctrine of ISIS.”
Jul dropped her gaze to her baby and smoothed her blouse over the soccer ball sized bump. Without looking up at Stacie, she explained, “We need Jeff in the thick of things to be sure Nathan comes home to us, safe and whole.” She lifted her gaze and held Stacie’s stare. “I don’t trust any of these fuckers. Be sure you don’t either.”
Stacie’s agency-provided phone chose that minute to buzz with a text. As she pulled it from her jeans, she read the message from Ops Center. Open the door.
The doorbell rang.