Freedom Does Matter (Mercenaries Book 2) (44 page)

“Was his church one of the ones supporting the soccer match last week in London?”

“Yes, Mr. Jamse. They were the creators of the consortium, and the largest single contributor.”

“Does that not seem a little strange, not to say unbelievable?”

“It does. Lucky for me, I only collect information. It’s up to you to understand and predict on the basis of it. While it seems entirely at odds with the other data, I assure you, unless several national banks are mistaken, his church provided the cash.”

Elena rose and fetched herself a bottle of juice. Ian twisted in his seat, still unconvinced. He accepted when Elena offered drinks around.

“Anything else?”

Else sketched biographical information for the next ten minutes. “One writer believed Billy’s attitude changed for the worse when he lost his first daughter. Or rather, his first grandson. His daughter went to Israel and married a tall, dark, handsome Jewish boy. Both of them and their child died in 1996 in a Hezbollah rocket attack on their settlement.” She rifled the papers, looking for something. “I don’t see the reference right now, but a couple of sources said that Billy never forgave either side for his grandson’s death.”

“Not his daughter’s?”

Else flipped the sheets again. “Ah, yes. Here it is.” She held up a single densely typed page. “In these interviews, his daughter is mentioned once, in passing. Jacob, his grandson, seven times. His son-in-law, never.”

Ian shook his head. Revenge: a poor motive, although it seems good for little else. Is it sufficient?

Before anyone commented, Kevin’s phone rang. He flipped it over to see the display and answered it.

“Afternoon, Derek. What news?” He listened, but then said, “Wait a second while I put this on speaker.” He tapped the phone a couple of times. “Try it now.”

“Yeah, can you ‘ear?”

“Yes,” Ian said.

“We got word about the phone. CLRR paid the bill. You remember that lot, right, Kevin?”

“Central London Rubbish something, right? That’s the firm with the Wembley Stadium trash collection contract.”

“That points us in a useful direction,” Ian said.

“Why so?”

“Ah, I apologize, Ms Rios. You have not been involved. The trash cans CLRR supplied to Wembley stadium were… modified to fill the surrounding area with poison gas!” Ian calmed himself. “Derek has discovered that one of that trash company’s phones was dropped during an attack on our team, and that the person who dropped it also used it to speak with the infamous Reverend Billy.

“Do you see the connection?”

Elena nodded. “Yes, makes sense. Thanks.”

“By the way,” Kevin said, “what happened to the guy they took out of the hotel on the stretcher? The one I clocked with the lamp.”

“’Aven’t ‘eard. Before, he was still in ‘ospital. I thought they said ‘e’s in a coma. Nice one.”

“Indeed. A trip to Kansas City is in order. While the data remains circumstantial, it begs an evidential questioning.”

“We’ll go and ask some questions,” Kevin said in response to Elena’s confused look.

“Derek, have you any other information for us?”

“That’s the lot. I’ll talk to Else later about what she found. We have to turn the phone over to the police, now we know whose it was, but we can recreate it if needed.”

“Very well. Keep in touch.”

The trip to Kansas City was longer than Ian wished, an infinity longer. He wanted this interrogation over and done. He dearly wanted to have Rebecca back, wanted it to be safe for her to return. His feeling surprised him.

Halfway through the flight, he decided he had been checking his watch far too frequently and forced himself to ignore it until they reached the church’s business offices in Kansas City.

He chose the offices rather than the church itself because the offices were between the airport and the hotel in Olathe. Also, according to the church’s web site, occasional meetings were scheduled for the offices on Monday evenings, but the church building itself was not used until later in the week, when youth religion classes were held.

Finding the rental car, sending Elena in her own rental with their minimal luggage to the hotel, surviving the ride into the city, locating a parking lot, all that had taken time. Ian despaired of accomplishing anything this night beyond seeing how much gold leaf had been worked into the stonework announcing the Temple’s door. As they rounded the corner and headed to the entrance fifty or sixty feet ahead, he yielded and checked his watch. It read 8:54.

Chapter Forty-One

Day Forty-six - Kansas City

THE GPS IN THE RENTAL car led Beckie along interstate highways once Shalin had entered the address Imam Rashid had given her. Beckie was peeved by the congestion; she’d expected early afternoon traffic to be lighter, even on a Monday.

“I’m astounded by the green trees here,” Shalin said as they followed the highway toward Olathe from the north. “I thought Kansas was flat, all brown farmland, and look at this! It’s just trees and buildings.”

“Yeah. Not farmland, that’s for sure. I don’t remember enough geography to explain it, but the river probably has something to do with it.”

“River?”

“Kansas City was founded where the Kansas River meets the Missouri. We crossed the Kansas a little way back.”

They continued to discuss the scene in the afternoon sun as they approached the address. The dash clock agreed with Beckie’s phone; they reached Olathe a few minutes before two.

“There seem to be as many churches as MacDonald’s,” Shalin said after they’d passed the fifth one.

“And all slightly different,” Beckie said. “Not in any way that’s important to those of us outside, but critical to those who belong.”

“I don’t understand.”

Beckie shook her head. “Nor do I.”

At five past two, they were driving down a tree-lined street with older, mostly white, two-story houses when the GPS announced: “You have arrived. Destination is on the right.”

Beckie pulled over and parked behind a Lexus SUV. On the right stood a neat single-story home, brick and white-painted wood with a Honda in the driveway and a small sign: Music Lessons. A phone number filled the space below.

“Looks like it,” Beckie said, pointing to the sign. “Let’s do it.”

She led to the door. The screen was closed, but the front door stood open and she could hear excited voices inside. A rap on the door brought no response; she knocked harder. As she shook her hand, the voices stilled.

An average height black woman wearing a colorful robe and scarf came to the door from a room further within. Behind her, Beckie could see a blonde teenage girl peering around the corner, obviously curious.

Beckie stepped aside to allow Shalin to introduce herself.

“Hello. Alisha? Alisha Rashid?” When the woman nodded, Shalin said, “My name is Shalin deVeel and this is my friend Beckie Sverdupe. Don’t worry,” she said, reacting to the look of doubt, and, Beckie thought, fear on the woman’s face. The teenager had approached to stand close by the woman. “You couldn’t know either of us,” Shalin continued, “but I know your brother, Labeeb, from the Islamic Center in Nassau.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” the girl said.

The woman turned in surprise to see the girl beside her. “Just as well, too, Sarah. I must have a few secrets from my students, even those who are my friends.” She turned back to open the screen door. “Please come in. I am about to begin Sarah’s lesson, so if you are quiet—”

“No, no!” Sarah cried. “I want to hear about your brother. David will, too.”

“I’m sure your mother does not pay me so you can listen to my family news.”

As Beckie and Shalin came in, a woman about the same height as Alisha entered from the doorway Alisha and Sarah had used. “Don’t be silly, Alisha. I’ll pay for anything that keeps Sarah interested. She doesn’t need the flute lessons until after school starts, and she has been practicing.”

“Yeah. We’ve told you everything about London, so… Please may we hear about your brother?”

“Well…” Alisha looked at Shalin. Events in the home so far amused Beckie. Obviously this girl, this white girl, was important to the black woman. Now why do I make that distinction? Why didn’t I first think this teenager is important to this woman twice her age? Back to sensitivity training! While Beckie had been musing, Alisha had wrangled them into her studio and completed introductions. Beckie nodded to Deborah Willan, Sarah and David’s mother, as they found seats. David, a bit younger than Sarah, continued to sit quietly, watching with interest.

“Well,” Shalin said once she was comfortable, “to get the easy part done, I live on one of the Bahamian Out Islands with… with several others of like temperament. That’s a good way to say it, right, Beckie?”

Beckie agreed with a grin.

“When I can, I get over to Nassau, to the Islamic Center, to talk with the Imam. Since your brother took his position, he and I have had several challenging discussions about Islam and Muslims, and the world.” She smiled. “He’s been working very hard to convince me to raise my children Muslim, but I’m still undecided.”

Deborah and David showed a degree of interest in Shalin’s story beyond politeness, but Sarah quivered with either excitement or curiosity. Beckie couldn’t decide which.

“I hope you give every consideration to his ideas,” Alisha said. “I don’t believe any others are better suited to life now.”

Shalin nodded and continued, “But, with regrets to your young friend…” She gestured to Sarah. “… this visit is much less about Labeeb than it is his concern about you.”

“Oh… Oh, he told you?” When Shalin dropped her gaze, so did Alisha.

“Should we go somewhere else?”

“No, no. That is unnecessary. This family… They’ve been a great help to me throughout, as surprising as it may seem. They know as much as I, more than Labeeb.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Beckie leaned forward. “Might I be so bold?”

Alisha turned to face her. “Yes?”

“What is your relationship with the… Willan family? Surely more than a music teacher?”

“It seems strange—”

“No it doesn’t! She’s a great teacher and the best person I know. And she’s been given a load of crap just because—” Sarah’s outburst came to a sudden halt.

“Just because what?” Beckie prompted.

“Because she’s… black.” The girl whispered her last word.

Alisha had gone from shocked to amused. There’s some resentment in there, too. “Well, yes Sarah, I am black, and that probably had something to do with it. However,” she said, looking now at Beckie and Shalin, “my faith and my sexual preference likely had more to do with this attack than my race.”

“Your faith… and… sexual preference?”

“Yes, Sarah. And thank you from the bottom of my heart for standing up for me.” Alisha stood and hugged the girl, a long hug punctuated by their mutual tears.

Deborah smiled. “You can see how much control we have.”

“I don’t understand, Mom.”

“What don’t you understand?”

I’ll bet she doesn’t want to answer a question he’s not asking.

“She said sexual preference. Why does anyone care if Ms Rashid’s gay? Or straight, or even bi?”

Deborah’s jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide.

“And I tried not to have it be obvious,” Alisha said with a laugh.

“It’s my fault, Mom, Alisha. I wanted to explain to him why Alisha was having such a hard time with getting an abortion, and… after I got done railing on Dad and Poppy… I didn’t think. I’m sorry.” Sarah was crying again.

However, Beckie perked up when Sarah mentioned “railing on” the male family members.

David looked confused until his mother explained that some people believed their business was to tell other people what to do.

“Yeah!” Sarah said, her voice low but fierce. “That’s exactly what Poppy does every week. And he gets Dad to make laws so people have to do what he wants.”

“That’s a little simplistic—”

“It’s what Dad told me. He does what the Temple says. And they all pass it. And you and I and everyone knows Poppy is the Temple. The fear of abortion comes from him. The—”

“Even if you’re right,” Beckie said, “I sense some discomfort you may not have noticed.” She glanced at Deborah, who returned an embarrassed smile. “Maybe this isn’t the time to have that discussion?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sarah subsided, but her attitude was unrepentant.

Beckie reached over to take the girl’s hand. “So, a close relationship between the four of you. Based on Alisha’s abilities as a teacher, and Deborah’s… desire for intelligent conversation.” The two nodded cautiously. “And throw in Miss… I’m not quite sure how to characterize you, Sarah. Already, you’ve demonstrated depths I don’t see in a lot of adults.” She returned the girl’s questioning stare with one of feigned calm. “Anyway, add her in and this is a company I wish I were fortunate enough to be part of.” She glanced at Shalin. “Better go ahead, Shalin. Jean-Luc will be anxious.” She turned back and added, “He’s our pilot and he’s gotta let DHS know about our travel plans.”

Shalin nodded. “Our plan is to offer you a chance to come to our home—we call it the Nest—and have our doctor perform the procedure, since the last Labeeb had heard, you hadn’t gotten approval here?”