Blaze of Glory (29 page)

“Do you? I’m not sure you do. In any case, keep the hostages alive for another day or two just in case we need them, but we need to move them.

“I know just the place.”

“To be safe, make preparations to dispose of the bodies.”

“It will be my pleasure.”

“I’m sure it will, Michael. I’m sure it will.”

CHAPTER 31

TESS SAT AT THE large table and gazed at the video wall. Colonel Mac had brought Tess up to speed. “The woman is being held in a secure hospital somewhere in Naples. She is under guard at all times. She has no debilitating physical injuries, but she is showing signs of stress and fatigue. She’s been quite emotional.”

“No wonder. I’d be a basket case if I went through what she’s gone through. Will she be able to see me?”

“Yes, the Italian military has set up a camera and monitor on their end. Remember not to mention where you are, what building you’re in, or anything else that might sacrifice security. Use only your first name.”

“It’s not like she can do anything more. . . . Oh, you’re thinking someone might be listening in.”

“We’ve taken every precaution, but technology changes overnight. We think we have every base covered. Still, it pays to be paranoid.”

Five minutes later the video link was established, and Tess got her first look at the woman who almost brought chaos to the world.

Delaram looked fragile, like a broken ceramic pot hastily put back together. Tess immediately felt sorry for her, an emotion her logical mind checked by recalling the woman had been ready to kill a room full of world leaders. The suicide bomber wore a pink hospital gown and lay on a hospital bed with the covers pulled to her waist. Both arms were strapped to the bed.

Tess leaned toward the screen. “Can you hear me?”

The woman looked to the side and, for a moment, Tess was certain she was averting her eyes. Then she realized Delaram was looking at the monitor, not the camera. It was a human thing to do: to look at the person speaking even if the person was on a flat-screen monitor.

“I can hear you.”

Delaram’s voice bore a slight accent, one Tess couldn’t recognize. “They tell me your name is Delaram.”

She gave a slight nod. “Yes. I imagine they told you many things about me.”

Tess smiled. “True. My name is Tess. How are you feeling?”

“I wish I were dead.”

Tess didn’t know what to say. “Why?”

“You are not serious with that question, are you?”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t be, but I am.”

“My life is over, not that that matters, but I failed my parents.” She looked away. “Who are you?”

“As I said, my name is Tess.”

Delaram frowned. “I didn’t ask your name, I asked who you are.”

“I’m a professor, Delaram. I study things, like suicide bombers.”

“You’re a spy?”

Tess tried to form a disarming smile. It didn’t sit comfortably on her face. “No. I do research and I consult and teach.”

“So am I your next subject?”

“Not today. I need your help.”

“My help? I couldn’t help my parents. I couldn’t help myself. How can I help you?”

Tess kept her voice soft, gentle. The woman on the monitor had the strength of tissue paper. The wrong word could rip a hole in her. “I’m not going to pretend I know what you’re going through. I can’t comprehend it, and I doubt anyone else can. However, I don’t believe your life is over.”

“It might as well be. The best that waits for me is prison. Execution, if I’m lucky.”

“Why?”

She laughed, but it came out hollow. “Maybe they didn’t tell you everything. Not long ago I tried to kill many people. Judging by your accent, I tried to kill your president.”

“Did you?”

“I was the only one in the room with a bomb strapped beneath her dress.”

“Did you press the button?”

Delaram closed her eyes.

“Delaram, I asked you a question. Did you set off the bomb?”

“No.” The word came so quietly that Tess barely heard it. From the corner of her eye, Tess noticed Colonel Mac talking to Dr. Smith. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do, Delaram. I think it was impossible for you to detonate that bomb.”

“I didn’t want to die then, but I do now.”

“That’s not what stopped you. It wasn’t that you couldn’t push the button; you
refused
to press it. Isn’t that right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Delaram, I’ve heard all the details. I even spoke to someone who was very close to you—” Colonel Mac cleared his throat. Tess continued as if she hadn’t heard it. “You left a clue at the villa in Rome. You left your fingernails. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. You guessed that someone might come looking for your kidnappers. You wanted them to know that you weren’t a Muslim extremist. You wanted to leave behind a little bit of DNA. Am I right?”

Delaram nodded. Tess could see tears forming in the young woman’s eyes.

“I guess.”

Tess leaned back. “Listen, girl, some people consider you a hero.”

“I’m not a hero. A hero would not have been there at all. A hero would have saved her parents.”

“I won’t lie to you, Delaram. I have no idea what will happen to you. I am a person with very little authority, but I will do my best to tell your story the way it should be told: You are a victim who so loved her family, you were willing to die to save them.”

“And kill others to save them.”

“That’s how it looks, but it isn’t the truth. Your refusal to detonate that bomb shows me you valued the lives of the others in the room.”

Tears flowed like rivers. “Someone else could have set off the bomb. I’m sure they told you that.”

“They did, but that doesn’t matter. The point is, you chose not to.”

“I went in the room knowing that if I didn’t set the thing off,
he
would . . .” She dissolved into sobs. Tears dripped from her cheeks, mucus puddled beneath her nose.

“Someone get the woman a tissue!” Tess had no authority to give orders, but she guessed those on the other side didn’t know that. “And release one of her hands so she can use it.”

“Easy, Tess.”

She cut Colonel Mac a harsh glance, then whispered, “You want to cut the link, or do you want me to do what you asked me to do?”

He didn’t respond. Tess watched as a uniformed soldier removed the restraint on Delaram’s right wrist and handed her a tissue. There was nothing more she could do but wait for Delaram to regain her composure. The woman’s façade had fallen.

It took five minutes for Delaram to compose herself. Such an achievement, made in so little time, was remarkable. “Delaram, may I ask you a few questions?”

“I am not going anywhere.”

“We want to find your parents.”

Delaram looked stunned. “They are dead.”

“How do you know?”

She dabbed at her eyes. “Because I failed and the whole world knows about the bombings.”

“All the world knows is that two bombs went off near the G-20 hotel. The media knows nothing about you.”

Delaram shook her head. “That does not matter. Abasi would know, and if he knows, then his owner knows. They said if I failed, my parents would die.”

“Abasi was the man with you?” Tess already knew the answer but wanted to keep Delaram talking.

“I only know two names. I’ve told the people here this. Abasi and Nasser. I overheard their names. I don’t know any more.”

“That doesn’t matter, Delaram. We know about them.” She paused, uncertain which way to go. “We know that digital information, most likely a video, or a large photo—maybe a series of photos—came to the villa where you were held. Our experts have done some tracing, and it seems like it came from Mexico. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Yes.” She offered nothing more.

“Can you tell me about it?” Tess wanted to press her softly. Even over the monitors, she could tell Delaram was recalling something.

“One of the girls committed suicide. Her name was Fila. They made us watch the execution of her husband and son.”

Tess’s stomach turned. “They made you watch the execution?”

“The screen went blank, but we heard two shots. I’m sure they have done the same to my parents.”

“Maybe not. We’re going on the assumption they’re still alive. Were your parents in Mexico?”

She nodded. “They are perpetual tourists. My family has money and they love to travel. They’ve taken me all over the world. My father enjoys architecture, especially cathedrals. Mexico has many interesting buildings.”

“Did your father want to see any particular building?”

“Yes, the Sinking Palace in Mexico City.”

Tess furrowed her brow. “Sinking Palace?”

“It is an art museum. My father told me it had sunk more than four meters since it was completed in the late thirties.”

“Four meters . . . twelve feet?”

“I think a little more than that.”

“Did they call you when they traveled?”

“Yes. Often.”

“Where were they when you last heard from them?”

“Monterrey. There is a cathedral there that has been standing since the late 1700s.”

“That was the last word you had from them?”

“Yes.”

“Delaram, when your parents traveled, did they rent a car?”

“Usually. My mother has a bad back and needs a luxury car to travel in comfort.”

Tess let that sink in. “I need you to give me your parents’ cell phone number.”

“Which one? My mother’s or my father’s.”

“Both.”

Delaram recited the numbers. “My father also carried a business phone. He didn’t like business calls coming in on his personal phone.”

“You’d better give me that number too.”

Delaram did. “Do you really think they are still alive?”

“We hope so, Delaram. No one can be sure.”

“But you said you’d look for them.”

“We will.”
If we find them, then we might find who did this.

“May I ask a question?”

“Sure,” Tess said. “You let me ask a bunch.”

“Do you know a man named J. J.?”

Tess’s stomach flipped. She knew J. J. had been in the building with Delaram, but nothing more. “I’ve heard of him. Why do you ask?”

Delaram looked away. “Can you get a message to him?”

“I can try.”

“He saved my life. He saved everyone’s lives. He stayed with me and disarmed the bomb so I could live. I want you to tell him—thank you.”

The image of J. J. inches from an improvised plastic explosive bomb made Tess ill. She began to tremble and folded her hands to keep it from showing. “He’s the one who disarmed the bomb?”

“Yes. Another man helped, but he was the one who freed me from the bomb. He could have died with me. If the bomb had gone off while he was so close, his face by the explosive—”

“I will do my best to make sure he knows how grateful you are.”

“Thank you.”

The video link went blank.

“Are you okay?”

Tess ignored the colonel’s question. Instead she rose, stepped to an empty trash can by the door, lifted the can, and vomited.

CHAPTER 32

TP-01, A BOEING 757-225 belonging to the Mexican Air Force, lifted off from Heathrow Airport with Moyer and his team. President Huffington had made calls and pulled in favors to make the trip possible. Most of Moyer would have preferred to finish the flight to the U.S. in Air Force One, but his mission wasn’t over, which made the other part of Moyer happy.

Not as large or as sophisticated as Air Force One, TP-01 was no slacker in the presidential transportation department. Most of Moyer’s team sat in reclined seats, napping. He couldn’t blame them. A nice, firm bed sounded tempting. Instead of sleeping, though, Moyer reviewed the information he received before deplaning in Heathrow. Using onboard communications, he had conferred with Colonel Mac about the next few steps.

“The president has cleared the way for operations in Mexico,” Colonel Mac said. “You have been given an unprecedented opportunity. The Mexican military doesn’t like us playing on their field anymore than the Italians. Their military has worked with ours in the past, but just as recently as last year they ruled out joint raids against drug lords.”

“If I remember right, Colonel, they wanted our help with logistics and equipment, but not boots on the ground.”

“Exactly. That’s changed with the rise of violence along the border and drug lord invasion of U.S. cities—that and the fact your team kept Mexico’s president from being shredded by a bomb.”

“Small favors go a long way, Colonel.”

“Yes, they do.” Mac paused for a moment. Over the headphones he wore in the communication room Moyer heard the sound of rustling paper. “You’ll land in Mexico City. It will be after dark. After the president and his entourage deplane, you and your team will remain aboard for two additional hours.”

“That’s a long time, sir,” Moyer said. “Considering our mission, I mean.”

“I’m aware of that. You will remain for two additional hours to give time for the press to leave and for the Mexican army to make ready for you. From TP-01, you will be taken aboard a military helo to the airport in Monterrey. By that time we may have a better address for you.”

“I’d hate to show up at the wrong door.”

“That would be bad, Moyer. Real bad. That’s why we have to do this right. You will have full military operational latitude. Just don’t shoot any of the good guys.”

“We’ll be careful, sir. May I ask a question?”

“Ask it.”

“What are the odds the hostages are still alive?”

“It’s not impossible, but it’s not likely. I’ll have more info for you later. Operations are beginning.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Oh, one last thing. Tess wants you to give J. J. a kiss for her.”

“Colonel, that ain’t gonna happen.”

“I told her so.”

Moyer removed the headset and handed it to the communication’s officer seated to his right. He rose from his chair and wondered what the next few hours held.