Buddy T., or Buddy Tufayl, as he referred to himself, found the van where he’d been told it would be. It was parked in a dark corner of Lower Wacker Drive near a construction site. It was covered in a light layer of dust. It was white with red letters on the side that read “Citywide Plumbing.” And beneath that was a slogan, also in red, “You Don’t Have To Live With A Drip.” The key was hidden in a small magnetized box under the rear bumper.
Buddy retrieved the key and opened the back doors. Stepping quickly inside he found everything waiting for him. Just like Number One promised. Buddy quickly changed into the Citywide Plumbing overalls. Buddy T. was Number Two in the ghost cell. He couldn’t help but smile as he started up the van. The plan had worked to perfection.
As he drove he pulled out his phone and placed a call.
“I’m on my way,” was all he said.
The next call would be more difficult. His instructions were to call Number One when he had retrieved the van. Buddy took a deep breath. While the plan had worked perfectly, something kept nagging at him. Numbers Three, Four, and Five were now dead. All of them killed in the last few days. The way the cell was structured, he only knew that they were dead. He didn’t know the details, other than the sketchy accounts of the deaths of their aliases on the Internet. Number Three, Miss Ruby Spencer, was a victim of an automobile accident. Number Four, a man named Paul Smailes, was missing in the Kitty Hawk area, thought to be a victim of the violent hurricane that had recently passed through the area. Of course Number Five had died during an interrogation of the Leopard. He knew about that. But on the others the information was sketchy. If a U.S. intelligence agency was on to them, then details had intentionally been kept to a minimum. Number One had no additional specifics, or if he did, did not offer them.
What Buddy did know is that they all somehow perished within hours of meeting with Anmar, the Leopard. She was the common denominator. And frankly, she scared him. The Leopard was legendary for her viciousness. It had taken some doing, but he finally convinced Number One the Leopard had become a liability. Buddy had no desire to see her as part of the Five. Now she would be remembered as a martyr. When her body was recovered in Grant Park after the attack, the U.S. government would believe she had been responsible. But at least she would be off the board. It would allow them to go to ground and rebuild.
Buddy glanced down at the phone. Truthfully, as frightened as he was of the Leopard, Number One terrified him more. Especially lately. Something had dramatically changed in his demeanor. For one thing, he seldom contacted Buddy directly. Occasionally he would send a messenger with a note, or Buddy would receive an untraceable e-mail telling him to buy a burner phone and call a number at a certain time. But for the past few months, he had insisted on numerous personal meetings.
These last weeks their activity and missions increased dramatically. Number One had been demanding, angry, and impatient. Buddy felt the attacks they planned were rushed, logistically problematic, and unnecessary. Trying to kidnap the president’s children, for example, had proved to be a disaster.
Lately though, Buddy knew better than to question Number One. His temper had become volcanic. After the problems with the car bombs in Kitty Hawk, Buddy had argued for caution. But Number One would not hear of it. Everything was to go ahead. Plans were to proceed without delay. So Buddy asked no questions.
For now, Buddy T. went along with whatever Number One wanted. He knew the other members of the Five had viewed him as a toady. But they didn’t have the experience with Number One that Buddy did. They went back a long way. Number One was just … different. There were things in Buddy’s life no one should ever be able to know but somehow Number One knew them. There were times when Buddy felt like Number One was always watching. That if he turned and looked over his shoulder he would find the leader of the ghost cell standing there, peering at him.
Whenever they met in person, Buddy left the meeting feeling uneasy. Number One would ask penetrating questions about things Buddy had done. The people he talked to, and what plans he was making. The strange part of it was, Buddy always had the feeling that Number One already knew the answers.
His palms had grown damp as he drove. But he could delay no longer. For all he knew, Number One could be watching him right now. He entered the number and pressed “send,” putting the phone on speaker. The phone rang once and someone answered, but remained silent.
“It’s me,” he said.
“Hello, Buddy Tufayl,” the voice on the other end said, “it’s almost time.”
“What are your instructions?” Buddy asked.
There was silence for a moment. Buddy felt a bead of sweat run from his forehead down between his eyes and along the bridge of his nose.
The voice gave Buddy his orders.