~ A Mission Of Evil ~

by

Barbara Wilson Wright

The practice run to the airport went well, thought Khalid. The three cars arrived within minutes of each other and parked in the short-term parking lot. Mishal stayed behind while the six men, Tarik, Jamal, Aziz, Naib, Abdullah and Khalid entered the terminal. Each carried a nondescript satchel or backpack. They went their separate ways to different men’s rooms and there they changed into brown shirts similar to what the cleaning teams wore. Abdullah was left to take charge of the bags. To a passerby it looked as if one man had a lot of bags to carry. Nothing unusual in an airport. He sat down in the waiting area while the rest of the men nonchalantly passed by the security area and walked through the employee line. They flashed their employee badges and were admitted inside.

Since they didn’t walk together, no one got suspicious. They walked across the bridge and then down the escalator. Khalid took notice of every trash container along the concourse corridor. Then, as casually as they walked in, they left. One by one they went into the bathroom where Abdullah was waiting with their bags and changed back into civilian clothing.

Aziz called Mishal on the cell phone. Then, one at a time, they made their way back to the short-term parking lot, got in their cars and drove out. Back on Peña Boulevard, on to I-70 and then to the rented garage which was their home for the past few days. They were jubilant! For a half-hour they congratulated themselves, Khalid especially, on their brilliant performance.

Ah yes, thought Khalid, today was a good day. Thirty-seven minutes to complete their holy mission. And tonight the other problem will be taken care of. God is good!

Twenty-nine

Felicia Parks was standing in line at the grocery store. Her husband came home just a short time earlier and collapsed in bed. She decided he needed major tender loving care and ran to the market to get fixings for his favorite dinner. He hadn’t been home in two days and, in his words, had been living out of vending machines. As she waited in the checkout line, a neighbor called to her.

“Felicia! Hi! We just got back and it was fabulous! The best vacation ever. Are you free tonight? You’ve got to come over and let us brag. Maybe we can convince Larry that he needs one of these trips.”

“It must have been great. You look tan and relaxed! How did Chuck like it?”

“About twice as much as I did. Come on over tonight. We’ll have a quick drink, bore you with all the pictures and start working on both of you to go!”

“I’d love to but I can’t. Larry hasn’t been home in two days. He catching forty winks now and will be going back. Something’s going on at work. He won’t say what but maybe this coming week? I’ll call you.”

Two customers back, a man was listening intently to the conversation.

~ * ~

The nail shop was busy, full of customers, mostly teenagers getting their nails done. It was Homecoming for a lot of high schools and there were a lot of dances held that night.

Kim barely had a two-minute break. She choked down a pop and was starting on the next client. She looked up and there was John standing by the front desk. She excused herself and went up to see him.

“Boy, you sure concentrate on your work. I was at the window watching you. You never looked up once.”

“Yeah.” Kim laughed. “Today I don’t have time for distractions as you can see. How are you?” She was genuinely pleased to see him.

“I’m fine. The question is how are you?”

“I’m doing okay. I still get rough times but I’m managing. Thanks.”

“Are you doing anything for supper tonight? I have to be at King Soopers at midnight but I’m free until then.”

“Oh gee, thanks! I’d love to really but I made plans for dinner with a friend. Uh, a girlfriend. But we should be finished early.”

“Okay, maybe I’ll stop by later.”

“Kim, your customer is waiting.” The manager put an end to Kim’s conversation.

~ * ~

Mishal was hunched over his workbench. He was carefully taping up the package he had made at Tarik’s request. He meticulously connected the wires then taped over them. It was an ordinary brown paper-wrapped package. He just needed to write the recipient’s name on it and it would be ready for delivery that evening.

“What is the name I put on this?” he asked Khalid.

Khalid looked blank. “I-I don’t know what her name is. I will have to find out. Let me ask.” He got up and went over to the other end of the garage where Ahmed was lying on the floor, chained to a pipe which protruded from the wall.

The confinement had taken its toll on Ahmed. Deprived of food and even water, he looked skeletal. His arms and legs were scabbed over where the skin had been chaffed from being bound. Khalid roughly shook him.

“Wake up, listen to me. What is the name of the whore’s friend?”

There was no response from Ahmed. Khalid grabbed Ahmed’s shirt and yanked him to a sitting position.

“I asked, what is the name of that bitch who came to the house? I need to know.”

“Why?” whispered Ahmed. “So you can kill her, too?”

“I will eliminate her. Tonight in fact. What is her name?”

Ahmed sank back on the floor and closed his eyes. He would not tell. He did not protect Terri. He would not betray her friend.

This infuriated Khalid. “You will tell me her name now or I will--”

“You will what? Shed my blood? You have already done so. I will not say anything.”

“No, I have not shed your blood yet... but that’s coming.”

“Oh, but you have my cousin. You have shed my blood already.”

Khalid scoffed. “Shedding your blood, anyone’s blood means nothing to me. The only thing for me is the accomplishment of this, our holy mission.”

“This is not holy. This is a mission of evil. You defile everything that is sacred about our faith. Your actions desecrate Mohammed’s teachings.”

“I am not going to get in a religious argument with you. You don’t talk to me about defiling or desecrating. You are the one who debased yourself with a whore. Now, what is that girl’s name? Or do I have to beat it out of you? Then you will see some blood shed.”

“You can’t hurt me much more. You have already shed my blood when you killed an innocent girl. That whore, as you call her, was carrying my child. My flesh, my blood.”

Khalid drew back. This statement unnerved him. He walked away without saying a word.

“What’s her name?” asked Mishal when Khalid came back to the workbench.

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me. We will wait for Jamal to return. He knows.”