Boston, MA
Samuel smiled at the two women. He could almost feel Trudi glaring at him through the restaurant window, though he couldn’t see her. “I’m so sorry to bother you,” he said to the two women in yoga pants. “Can you help me? I’m looking for Men’s Wearhouse.”
The blonde on the left laughed and pointed off to her right, over Samuel’s shoulder.
Samuel glanced back across the street, which was really an excuse to keep an eye on his surroundings. “Duh. My mother always told me I was blind. Maybe I should ask you where to find Pearle Vision while I’m at it.”
“Are you new to the area?” the brunette asked.
“Brand new. Starting a job on Monday. Thought I’d pick up a new suit.”
Ahmad, Samir’s younger brother, continued to walk slowly toward them.
“Exciting,” the brunette said. “So, what kind of job?”
What’s an impressive job title? “VP of marketing.”
“Wow.”
Ahmad walked up and smiled at the women and then at Samuel. “How fortuitous to meet you here, Samuel.”
“Hello,” Samuel said. “Do I know you?”
“I believe you knew my brother. Actually, I have some business to discuss with you. It’s rather pressing.” He motioned for Samuel to walk back across the parking lot with him.
“Your brother?” Samuel asked. “I don’t think so. I just moved here. Unless your brother is from San Francisco?”
Ahmad clenched his jaw. “I believe the last time you saw him was in Alabama.”
“Alabama? I don’t think I’ve ever even been to Alabama.”
Ahmad’s dark eyes stabbed daggers at Samuel. “I believe you have.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
The brunette woman spoke up. “Maybe you have the wrong guy.”
Ahmad glanced at her, and his gaze barely flicked to her yoga pants. In Saudi Arabia, women could be arrested for wearing such tight clothing. The al-Sadr clan, however, preferred women to be stoned to death for not staying in line. “Please excuse us. I would like to speak to my associate in private.”
Samuel caught a glimpse of the gun holstered inside Ahmad’s tailored overcoat.
“I don’t think he knows you,” the brunette said.
Ahmad’s lips thinned as he barely concealed a sneer. He turned back to Samuel. “I’m sure you’ll remember my brother if we speak for just a moment. Please.” He motioned again for Samuel to follow him.
“What was his name?” Samuel asked. “Your brother.”
“You’ll remember once I remind you.”
Samuel drew his eyebrows together. “Uh, okay. Tell me about him. Why do you think I know him?”
Ahmad’s tone hardened. “If you speak with me for just a moment, you’ll remember. I’m certain.”
The brunette spoke up. “I really think you have the wrong guy. You should leave and stop harassing this man.”
Ahmad focused on her with those dark eyes that reminded Samuel of flint—sharp and flat, depthless. “You should remain silent while a man is talking.”
The brunette rested her hands on her hips, and the blonde burst out with, “Excuse me?”
The brunette chimed in. “You should watch your mouth and show respect to women.”
Ahmad seemed completely focused on the women. “Why should I show respect to a piece of property?”
Samuel stepped between him and the women and threw an elbow strike at Ahmad’s face. Ahmad twisted back toward Samuel with a hook to the jaw. Samuel managed to deflect it. Then he reached in Ahmad’s jacket for his gun.
Ahmad grabbed Samuel’s arm with both hands. Samuel didn’t let go of the gun, leaving his hand inside Ahmad’s jacket.
“Tsk, tsk,” Samuel said. “I have a feeling someone doesn’t have a proper conceal-carry permit.” He heard the women’s feet shuffling behind him. He kept track of the sound so he could make sure to keep them behind him.
Ahmad sneered.
“I have my finger on the trigger. Shall we end this little dispute here and now, or would you like to live to fight another day?”
“I am not alone in this city,” Ahmad said.
“Oh, I figured that. You never were able to handle things on your own.”
“You think I haven’t done my homework on those who would kill me? Your family’s had to bail you out more than once.”
“You will die for what you did to my brother.”
“Actually, I didn’t do much of anything to your brother. He simply made a critical mistake.” Namely, getting in my ex-wife’s way.
Ahmad shifted.
“Uh-uh,” Samuel warned.
Ahmad stopped and sneered at Samuel.
“Now, this is how it’s going down,” Samuel said. “You’re going to provide me with a weapon, since I’m lacking one right now. Then you’re going to lie down with your hands folded behind your back and your ankles crossed. You’re going to let these nice ladies go without an insult, not even in your gross little mind. And then you’re going to watch me walk away with your gun. But you can curse me under your breath if you want.” Samuel smiled. “I’m nothing if not giving.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“It’s either that or . . . splat. I’d really rather not do that in front of these nice ladies.”
“You mean—”
Samuel pulled him closer by bending his right elbow and kneed Ahmad in the groin. Ahmad’s grip on Samuel’s arm weakened, and Samuel pulled out of his grasp, removing the gun from the holster. Then he used the butt of the weapon to strike Ahmad across the jaw with force.
Ahmad smacked against the pavement. The women gasped.
Samuel ejected the magazine to check the ammunition and popped it back into place. He racked the slide back to be sure a bullet was in the chamber.
Then he turned and faced the women. “My sincerest apologies. I made sure you were safe the whole time, you have my word.”
“Who are you?” the brunette demanded.
Let’s see how the truth works. “I’m CIA. This man is a member of a terrorist organization.”
“Did you kill his brother?”
“My partner did, after he attacked her and the little girl we saved from him. I know you’re freaked out right now. I’m sorry for that. But I need your help.”
“Our help?” the blonde asked.
“I need you to call the police and tell them you think you found a terrorist.”
“You or him?” The brunette nodded at Ahmad, who was motionless on the ground.
“Who does your gut tell you the terrorist is?”
The women paused, and they glanced at each other. The blonde pointed at Ahmad.
Samuel smiled. “And I really need a car.”
“Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately, yes. And I don’t have much time for you to decide. I’m sure someone else saw what just happened, or they’ll look out the window any moment and see him lying on the ground. I need to get out of here.” More al-Sadr members weren’t far away. Ahmad liked to keep a contingent with him.
“If you’re CIA, why don’t you have a weapon of your own and a car?”
“I’m on the run. They’re hunting me down. And, quite frankly, I’m not sure who I can trust. I’m on my own.”
A pause.
The blonde reached into the small purse slung over her shoulder and took out keys. She removed a key fob and handed it to Samuel. She pointed to the row of cars directly in front of the Chrysler 300. “It’s over there. The black Lincoln MKC.”
Samuel lowered his voice in true appreciation. “Thank you. Please call the police. Tell them two men had an altercation. You heard this man”—he pointed toward Ahmad—“say something about attacking an airport. That’ll be enough for the authorities to take securing him seriously. Please don’t give them a good description of me. Tell them you were too scared to get a good look. And please don’t tell them I took your car or report it stolen.”
“I do need it back.”
“I’ll leave it at Boston Common. Give me three hours.”
“Three hours?”
“If I don’t accomplish what I need to by then, I’m probably dead. If that happens, I sincerely apologize about the car.”
“Are you serious?”
“Today, yes. But, normally, as infrequently as possible.” He grinned.
A giggle escaped the brunette’s lips, and she covered her mouth.
“Do you have all that?” Samuel asked.
The blonde said, “Call the police, we think he’s a terrorist, didn’t get a good look at you, don’t say anything about my car.”
“I can’t explain how much I appreciate this.” Samuel ran off toward the MKC.
Before he pulled out of the lot, he checked to be sure Ahmad was still down and that the women had moved farther away from him. The blonde was on her phone.
He turned right onto Needham Street. That’s when he saw the other Mercedes—a big, boxy G-Class SUV. It turned out of the Men’s Wearhouse lot and sped after him.