A second brief glimpse of Fahad’s eyes expunged forever any further curiosity Haddad might have had about Fahad’s assignment or the packages in the trunk. He contemplated instead hitting the road in search of another city and another job. But he was too afraid.
Fahad pulled up in front of U.S. Industrial Supplies, Inc., a massive warehouse of a building that sold heavy equipment to plants and factories. He walked up to Greg Mendes, the young fresh-faced cashier wearing dark gray coveralls. In his front pocket was a plastic holder filled with pens, Sharpies, pencils, scissors, a ruler and two box cutters. Next to it was pinned a black plastic employee ID that read U.S. INDUSTRIAL SUPPLIES, INC. and the name GREG. ASSIST. MANAGER.
It took Greg several seconds to recover from the shock of seeing a rather dark-skinned man, dressed in maybe $40,000 worth of clothes and jewelry, buying heavy-duty industrial supplies. Usually people came to Industrial Supplies looking like they just stepped out of a construction site or out of a steel mill.
“How can I help you, sir?” he finally asked.
“Greg,” Fahad said, mustering a smile and as much good cheer as he knew how. “I need four fifty-five-gallon drums, a cold chisel, an extra-large plastic floor tarp, a heavy denim shirt and size twelve work boots. Throw in a pair of large gray coveralls like the pair you’re wearing. A gray baseball-style work cap as well.”
“Don’t you want to pick the clothing out yourself, sir? Try some of that stuff on?”
“I trust your judgement,” Fahad said. “Also they’re for a friend, not me. Just tell me the amount.”
The assistant manager did some calculations.
“Sir,” Greg said, “it comes to $1,823.66.”
Fahad removed an extra-large money clip containing a two-inch stack of $100 bills. He handed Greg twenty of them.
“Pickup or delivery?” Greg asked.
Fahad wrote out an address.
“I need them delivered at exactly 6:00 P.M. this Thursday. It’s paramount they arrive precisely at 6:00. I’ll have a $200 bonus for each man on the truck if they deliver it on time.”
“Precisely 6:00?”
“Give or take fifteen minutes,” Fahad said, struggling to produce a smile.
“Hell,” Greg said, returning Fahad’s fake grin, “for that kind of bonus, I’ll deliver them myself.”
“Then it’s a $400 bonus. And I’m donating the change to the charity of your choice.”
Greg quickly pocketed the change.
Fahad went back to the Lincoln Town Car and climbed into the backseat.
“Next stop,” he said to Haddad, “is the nearest Home Depot.”
Haddad went online and found one ten minutes away.
“What are you looking for?” Haddad asked, looking at Fahad in the rearview mirror.
“Do you really want to know?”
“No sir,” Haddad said quickly. “I don’t know what we’re doing, and you’re right. I’m sorry I asked—very sorry.”
“You weren’t thinking, were you?” Fahad said.
“No sir,” Haddad said. “I wasn’t, but I won’t make that mistake again. I’ll stay focused. You can count on me.”
Haddad turned around to look at Fahad when he said those words, and he was immediately sorry he had. One look at Fahad’s eyes, and Haddad prayed to Allah to forgive him for opening his mouth.
Haddad quickly drove Fahad to a nearby Home Depot. Getting out, Fahad entered the store. An hour later Fahad walked out with a shopping cart filled with brown anonymous-looking mailing boxes. Haddad opened his door and got out to help.
“Stay behind the wheel and pop the trunk,” Fahad said.
Haddad climbed back behind the wheel, and the trunk opened. Fahad filled it with the three brown boxes.
Fahad climbed into the backseat.
“Ready, sir?” Haddad asked.
“Take me to the machine shop,” Fahad said.
Once more, Haddad sneaked a glance at Fahad. A second brief glimpse of Fahad’s eyes expunged forever any further curiosity Haddad might have had about Fahad’s assignment or the packages in the trunk. He contemplated instead hitting the road in search of another city and another job. But he was too afraid.
He knew in his soul he could never disobey the man in the backseat.