Day 5: May 19, 1240 Hours, Daylight Saving Time
Noor Mallory’s Residence, Frederick County, Virginia
PETROV HAD a key to Operation Maya.
Following Petrov was not practical. If he caught me, I might spook him and he could change his mind about helping me and simply run. No, I needed to give him space. He came to me on his own. He would call me, and as fast as I could convince him, he’d tell me what he knew. I doubted Edik was a threat, either. If he’d wanted to harm me or help Saeed to kill me, he just missed his best chance.
No, Petrov was a good guy. He just needed a little more time. It might cut it close, but I had confidence he’d come through. So, after Petrov left, I drove like a madman to Noor’s house. As I approached her driveway, I didn’t see the sheriff’s patrol standing watch. A tingle tiptoed up my spine. Maybe the events at the safe house, the missing Bobby Kruppa, and the other turmoil caused manpower shortages.
Maybe.
I found Noor and Sam at the garage. They were arguing. Sam’s defiant, condescending arms were folded in front of him as he looked everywhere but at her. Noor’s face was tight and her eyes aflame. Her hands flew, her head shook, and twice she reached out and grabbed Sam by the shoulder and shook him.
As I walked to them, Noor spun toward me. “Jon? What happened to you? I waited for you all night.”
“I was working.” I stopped close to her and softened my voice. “Sorry, I should have called. What’s wrong?”
“Tell him.” Noor thrust a finger toward Sam. “Tell Sam he should not go out without telling me where and when he will return. Tell him I need him to stay close.”
“Sam, your mom has a point.” There, I told him. Now, a little diplomacy. “Noor, he is nineteen. Maybe a little halfway would work.”
“No.” Her hand sliced the air. “This is my home. My rules. There is no halfway.”
Sam reeled back. “Of course not. That’s what you told Dad, too.”
Noor lowered her head and turned away. Sam looked at me with contempt dripping from his glare.
I needed Sam’s help. “Sam, I need to talk to you about Bobby.”
He suddenly blurted, “He wants to meet you in an hour at the old Darby Farm on Route 50.”
“Oh, yes.” Noor’s voice boomed again. “The Darby Farm, Sameh? You would drink and smoke and do whatever boys do there that is wrong.”
I held up a hand. “When did you hear from Bobby?”
“He ran away from the FBI,” he said. “That’s what he wants to see you about, I guess.”
“What did he tell you?” My thoughts were spinning. “Come on, Sam, it’s important.”
“How should I know?” He flashed angry eyes. “He wants you, not me. That’s it. Go find out yourself. You two deserve each other.”
“I guess. He didn’t say.”
“When did you speak with him?”
Sam shrugged. “About a half hour ago.”
“I need to go to him, now.” I turned to Noor. “The deputy’s gone from the road. Call Bond and let him know.”
She gazed down the drive. “Gone?”
“It’s probably nothing. But let’s check.”
She nodded.
I put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You know where this farm is. Can you show me? It’ll be faster.”
“No. You’re the CIA man. You’re the liar and a killer.”
I thrust up a hand. “Whoa, there, Sam. I’m no killer. Not the way you mean it.”
“Whatever.” He looked at me, then Noor. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” He rattled off the directions to an old farm property about ten miles outside Winchester heading west into the mountains. He described an old country dirt road just a mile from us that would cut several miles off of the trip. “You’re on your own.”
I made mental notes and turned to Noor. “Okay. But listen to me. Until that deputy returns, get your revolver and keep it handy.”
She lifted the hem of her shirt and showed me her pistol. “Yes. I think that is a good idea.”