Cold Snap (49 page)

"No," said Ahmad without turning around. "I
figure it this way. The reason these people are getting killed at
work is because their businesses have security cameras. The
terrorists plant two biometric pictures in the security systems.
One of the target and one of that woman. The one of the target
activates the mail bomb, but it doesn't go off until the girl shows
up. Then the terrorists tell the victims to give up their 'Scenic
Iraq' videos or else."

"'Scenic Iraq'?" asked the puzzled
detective.

"The colonel will fill you in later, I guess.
Hold on..." He pointed at a small turn-off that led to a
cobblestone street. "Go that way."

"Those stones will hurt my van," Abu Jasim
protested.

"Turn!" Ari barked.

The next instant, they were bouncing up and
down on the rough surface.

"Turn right up here, then make a quick
left."

"Are you going to fill me in?" Lawson asked
Ari.

"While you were in Iraq, did you make a
purchase of a tourist video in the Green Zone?"

"I don't know...maybe." He tapped his head.
"The bit of brain that didn't get blown out was badly scrambled. I
don't remember everything."

Ari told him quickly about the DVD, the
hidden files, and the method used to track down purchasers.

"Pretty crafty," said Lawson. "We need to
alert—"

"We discussed this already," Ari cut him
short.

"But we're talking about nuclear material
here. It's a whole different ball game. A game I'll lose, but I
don't see any way out."

"Straight up here, turn left on Route 5,"
Ahmad told his uncle.

As they passed a boat landing, Ari was
startled to see a park across the river. The location of the cat
colony, where he had almost lost his life.

Route 5 boasted a sign designating it as one
of Virginia's Scenic Byways. Certainly, within minutes from
Richmond they found themselves on a gently curving two-lane road
that, in the summer, probably fulfilled anyone's definition of
bucolic aesthetics. Ari thought that this, too, must be the subject
of a touristic video. But he had had his fill of the countryside,
at least for the time being. Detective Carrington and his ambuscade
deep in a state forest and Uday Hussein's farmstead hideout had
provided all the pastoral diversion he could swallow. But, unless
the terrorists were leading them the fifty miles to Williamsburg,
he seemed bound once again to a discreet vale in the Virginia
countryside.

"Slow down..." said Ahmad hesitantly.

"They've turned?"

"Yes, but there's no road showing on the map.
Probably some kind of dirt lane..." He turned to Ari. "You're not
going to stick me in the middle of the woods again, are you?"

"If circumstances dictate, I will stick you
in the middle of a pigsty."

"You owe me humongous big-time, I hope you
know that."

"I will compensate you according to your
duties."

"Yeah, you want to show me a job
description?"

"Your job is to shut up and tell me where to
drive!" Abu Jasim interceded.

"And you—" Ahmad began, then ducked. "Okay!
See that dirt road up ahead? There's a mailbox. Turn there."

"It's almost invisible..."

Ahmad turned in his seat. "Colonel, there's
some real problems with the bombing theory."

"And what is that?"

"The bombs wouldn't just go off without
something else, like some kind of radio signal. Somebody would have
to plant software in the targets' computers that would communicate
with the bombs. Wireless access points."

"But that is simple, my young idiot," Ari
said grandly. "The woman worked as a temp at these places. She had
entree to the victims' computers. She could have planted the
communication...whatever you call them."

"Okay, so explain why that woman wasn't in
the gallery."

"She wasn't a target, only a trigger."

"And him..." Ahmad nodded at Lawson. "We
didn't see a picture of him in the gallery."

Ari drew a deep sigh out of his allegedly
Assyrian chest. "That, too, is simple, you simple American. He is
in the gallery. But the picture is from the time before his grave
injury. The computer didn't recognize the handsome devil he once
was."

Lawson glowered, then said: "The girl...her
name is Gail Prescott...."

"How did you find out—"

"At least that's the name she used as a
temp," Lawson interrupted. "I don't usually remember the names of
temporary workers, but…"

"Yes, she is wonderfully attractive," Ari
agreed. "In any event, she must have secretly photographed you in
your office and planted the picture in your computer, perhaps while
you were off meeting with your adjusters.

"I have a password—"

"My idiot nephew has proved to me that such
precautions are easily bypassed. The updated image isn't in the
gallery because that is an older database."

"Crap," said Lawson. "Then how many other
updated portraits are not showing up in that gallery? People's
faces change...sometimes drastically..."

"Possibly many."

Ahmad turned back to his computer and gave a
little jump.

"Stop!"

"Why?"

"Because they've stopped. Jesus, we're only a
few hundred yards from them!"

Abu Jasim braked. Ari called Ben and gave him
detailed directions to their location.

"Holy Moly, I'm off target," was Ben's
response. "Give me ten minutes. Don't start the show without
me."

"I am gratified by the return of your
enthusiasm," Ari said before disconnecting.

"You're some kind of weird fucker, aren't
you?"

Lawson's words were stone dead serious. When
Ari looked at him, all trace of the joy of adventure was gone.
Beyond the injuries, he had the expression of a man who had been
lured into a house of pleasure, only to find himself surrounded by
pain and lies. Ari was suddenly not sure he wanted this particular
armed man walking behind him.

"Stop," he ordered Abu Jasim. "We'll wait a
moment for Benjamin."

They were in the middle of a wide field.
Remnants of corn stalks missed by the combines stretched out in
every direction, like ranks of massacred soldiers.

"Is there something amiss?" Ari asked
Lawson.

"I'm just looking at you and seeing so many
things wrong."

"I endeavored to save your life."

"I saved my own life. Maybe by accident, but
you saw the result."

"You are wary of people who seem innocent,
but aren't."

There was a sharp intake of break, then
Lawson nodded. "You might say that."

Both Abu Jasim and Ahmad caught the ominous
import of his tone and had turned to look at him.

"Very well, none of us is innocent, but we
are not your enemies," said Ari.

"Are you enemies of America?"

"As the occasion arises," Ari admitted.

"Is this one of those occasions?"

"It is not."

"And I'm supposed to trust you?"

"Trust also depends on the occasion."

"All right." Lawson propped forward on his
cane. "But I'm not having fun, anymore."

"Fun?" Ahmad said with disbelief.

"Why do you suddenly doubt us?" Ari
asked.

Lawson shifted his cane to his prosthetic
hand and pressed a finger against his jaw. It helped him with the
mechanics of speaking.

"Ever since I met you, a very short time ago,
I've been shot at and bombed. Worse, I've been subjected to massive
lying. Right now, I'm sitting in a van with men I don't know and
who aren't who they say they are. I don't have my men with me to
pull me out of the fire. And I'm not feeling particularly spry at
the moment. I wish Ben would show up. At least he looks and sounds
legit."

"You mean 'American'?" Ahmad protested. "Like
I wasn't born and raised in Chicago?"

"Americans don't look or sound the way they
used to." Lawson winced and lowered his hand from his jaw. "I don't
feel like talking, anymore."

"You know..." Ahmad began.

"Turn off the engine," Ari interrupted. "Save
your gas. We don't know if this is the end of our journey."

Abu Jasim turned the ignition off.

"Yes, Ahmad?"

"I was just going to tell you about this
story I read, 'Rosetta World'. You know the Rosetta Stone? It was
found in Egypt."

"By one of Napoleon's engineers," Lawson
nodded. "What about it?"

"You know how it was inscribed with different
languages all saying the same thing? That's how they figured out
what the ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics were saying."

"Not all of it has been translated."

"No, but in the story I'm talking about, the
whole world is a Rosetta Stone placed here by aliens. The point is
that everything around us is a form of language and we get all
confused and depressed when we can't read it. But, you know, given
time..."

"Very nice," said Ari.

Lawson looked away.

"Listen..." Abu Jasim cracked his door open.
Cold air shot into the back. Lawson pulled up his coat collar. He
did not complain. Like the others, he listened to the excited
baying of dogs.

"We got to deal with wolfpacks, too?" he
groused.

There was a shout. Then a gunshot. The
barking grew more frantic.

Ari took out his phone. "Ben, we can't wait
any longer. Be cautious in your approach. There are guns and dogs
exploding."

"Exploding dogs—?"

Ari hung up and pulled open the panel
door.

"That magical device in your hand can also
call the police," Lawson observed.

"Right on," said Ahmad.

"You may both stay here, if you wish."

"Oh, man," said Ahmad, getting out. Ari
dropped to the dirt road and glanced at him.

"Where is your weapon?"

"I've got a killer mouth. That's what my
history professor says."

Ari thrust a gun into his hands.

"Oh, man..."

Lawson planted his leg on the ground then,
holding on to the door edge, deftly swung around and planted the
other foot.

"You should be less cold than the rest of
us," Ari said.

"Why's that?"

"You have less to be cold with."

"You'd better not let me walk behind
you."

"I was thinking that, myself," said Ari. "But
I think Abu Jasim and I should lead the way."

Abu Jasim hefted his MGL.

"Truly, it is Saddam," Ari snorted.

The field was edged by winter-weary bushes,
providing them with cover as they moved down the curving road. They
soon came to the blue cargo van, sitting quietly in the middle of
the lane. The engine was not running. Abu Jasim trained the grenade
launcher on the back door. Ari shifted from side to side and saw no
one watching him in the side mirrors. Moving as silently as he
could in his bulky coat, he went up to the van. He glanced back at
Abu Jasim and was displeased by the arrangement. He made a
dismissive gesture. Frowning, Abu Jasim slung the launcher over his
shoulder and took out a pistol. Ari nodded, then pulled open the
door.

Gail Prescott lay on the floor, the side of
her head matted with dark goo. There was no one else inside.

Ahmad came up, looked inside, and wrinkled
his nose in disgust. Lawson came up and stared at her.

"Dead?" he whispered.

Ari reached forward and touched the pale skin
of her throat. He nodded.

"Still very warm, though." He shook his head,
leaned forward, and whispered into the unhearing ear: "You did it
to yourself."

"Yeah, rub it in," Lawson said.

"Merely quoting a French proverb."

They circled around the van. Abu Jasim
pointed. They could just make out Bruce Turner's canopied pickup
truck peeking out from the hedges. The driver of the cargo van had
stopped here when he spotted it.

They moved forward as fast as they dared.
Ahmad crowded up behind his uncle, who gave him a smack and pointed
away. Spread out, idiot!

The barking grew louder, though it was still
muffled. Abu Jasim approached the passenger side and peered in. He
leapt back when a shadow more fang than dog slammed against the
window, leaving a bubbling slick of saliva on the glass. The pickup
truck began to rock as the dogs inside bounded frantically between
the walls of the canopy.

Ari made a show of sniffing and Abu Jasim
nodded. A vague smell, almost like ammonia. He went around to the
driver side and saw the bullet hole in the glass. When he saw Bruce
Turner slumped over the wheel he flashed back to Detective
Carrington in the forest. The hole in Turner's temple told Ari that
he had been distracted by someone in front of the van while the
killer snuck up from the side.

Lawson came around the truck and held up his
cell phone.

"Cops?" he whispered.

Ari frowned and shook his head.

"Who is he?" asked Ahmad, gaping through the
windshield.

"Later. Shhhh..."

He wanted to call Ben, but now he could see
the small clapboard house hidden behind a row of evergreens and
dared not speak or whisper. He gave Lawson a questioning look. The
approach would require the greatest stealth, agility, and sudden
spurts of movement. The insurance man could easily be caught
flatfooted in the open. He nodded reluctantly and pointed at the
pickup, where the dogs had gone strangely quiet. He would keep
watch in case someone sneaked back.

Abu Jasim again hefted the grenade launcher,
an evil genie intent on mass destruction. Ari would have preferred
a less tear-ass approach, but if all three terrorists suddenly
jumped out at them a single shot from the MGL would settle things
nicely. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw saucer-eyed Ahmad
stepping gingerly over a rut in the lane. Ari thought of signaling
for him to stay with Lawson. But when he considered all the times
in his life that he had been outnumbered by the enemy, he decided
he much preferred even odds. He nodded at Abu Jasim.