Living Stones (25 page)

“Hmm, I never thought of that possibility. But again, who and why? I can’t imagine . . . unless whoever did the bombing somehow thinks I’m a threat. I don’t recall anything around the time of the explosion so how could I be a witness against anyone?”

“Yes, but they haven’t caught the bomber yet as far as I know. It would be all over the news broadcasts if they had.”

“But Jim, if the bomber is really out to get me, I’m just as much at risk going home as I have been here.” Ashley’s eyes stared out the window as she thought her nightmare may not be over.

After Jim returned to his seat, Marie looked over at her younger friend who had been through so much in the last few months. Ashley closed her eyes, head back on the pillow, and shut the window cover. She didn’t move for several minutes. Then she opened her eyes and gazed at Marie. She smiled a sleepy smile and reached over to squeeze Marie’s hand. “We have learned so much together on this trip of a lifetime. You have been a wonderful traveling companion.”

“I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. One thing about you really hit me. You question lots of assumptions. I’d be interested to know how this trip has changed any of them for you.”

Ashley smiled. “You told me when we started that I had a lot to process from the stuff I had been reading, from Najid, from our church beliefs. You were right. So I just tried to meet lots of people to get different stories and ideas, some Jews, some Arab Palestinians.”

They chatted about how she had experienced Muslims of all stripes, from her kidnapper to Fatima’s family. She’d learned the stories of Arab Christians, families like Najid’s and Faisal’s, the wonderful young Jews like David and Ben who had become like brothers to her, then the rabbis who shared totally opposite opinions about Zionism—they had particularly challenged her to think.

“And what about all the conflict that is going on in this land?”

“Marie, I’ve just experienced a little bit of it. The dynamism of Jewish Israel, their tragic history, and their present confidence are
all amazing. But then to hear the stories of so many families being displaced from their homes and seeing a family from children to grandparents pleading with soldiers to not bulldoze their home in East Jerusalem . . .” Ashley’s voice broke and she paused. “I’ve seen some of the magnificent buildings of stones, the stones of history, the dead stones. What has affected me most, though, are the living ones.”

“So how do you put all this together, Ashley?”

“I haven’t. You were right. I have a lot to process when I get home.”

Mr. Appleby, Washington calling,” his assistant shouted from the other room. Gordon Appleby, wading through the morning’s e-mail on his computer, picked up the secure telephone. Putting his feet up on the desk, he took the call reluctantly. Probably they had more work for him to do.
July in Seattle is the time to play, not work twelve hours a day
. He had postponed one hiking trip with his family already. Being an FBI agent didn’t prove quite as fun and exciting as he anticipated it would be when he graduated from law school ten years ago.

“Appleby here.”

“Gordon, we have some new information on the Seattle bombing.” His boss’s voice rose as the words tumbled out.

Gordon bolted upright in his chair pulling his feet off the desk. He’d encountered nothing but dead-ends in the investigation over the past month. Somehow a terrorist had slipped through the security net in the United States and totally disappeared. The country remained frightened that their vaunted FBI had not been able to come up with a suspect. Gordon and his colleagues had continued, frustrated with no leads.

“Yeah. We’ve been contacted by Israel’s Mossad in conjunction with the CIA. It seems that your injured young lady—”

“Ashley Wells?”

“Yeah, that’s her, took a trip to Israel and is only now returning. Her friends reported her missing last night in Jerusalem, for only eight hours or so. Mossad got right on it from her description of events. Seems some woman in the Muslim Quarter heard a blonde Caucasian girl and an older lady talking on a certain street. A guy came up, the blonde ran, and the man knocked the old woman down to chase the girl. She got away.”

“Are they sure it was Ashley Wells?”

“Yeah. She came into the police station at the Jaffa Gate and answered questions, apparently. And Mossad doesn’t usually make mistakes. Israeli intelligence is reliable.”

“So, what happened?”

“They tracked the older woman down through informants. Turns out she’s the mother of the guy who apparently abducted Ashley.”

“So did they find the creep?”

“Yeah. Got him locked up. Name’s Walid something or other. He admitted abducting the girl. They think from the little he has revealed so far that he’s in touch with other radical Islamists and that money is involved.”

“Not surprising. Is there more?”

“Yeah. Apparently she thinks the same guy tried to get to her in Bethlehem, twice. So if true, he was serious about it. Could be a stalking, but Mossad doesn’t think so. Mostly because of his connections and the money.”

“So have we confirmed a financial connection leading to Ashley specifically?”

“Not yet. They first checked whether she posed a threat to someone there. And that seemed unlikely to Mossad. But they think they are getting to the bottom of this. Turns out Walid had hinted that he’s not alone and that the money might have come from America.”

“So they suspect that Ashley could be a threat to someone in this country, and that he paid Walid to eliminate her in Israel?”

“You got it. That’s what they’re working on now. They are trying to get the identity of his partner or partners out of Walid. They’ll let
us know of further developments. They’ll try to trace the story back to the United States.”

“So Ashley likely will be in danger here?”

“Right. That’s why I called immediately. They are due to land soon, U.S. Airways from Tel Aviv.”

“Sir, we’ll be in touch with her when she gets off the airplane.”

Gordon Appleby, in his casual shirt and slacks, waited at the entrance to the C Concourse in Sea-Tac airport, shoulder holster and pistol well hidden. He could have shown his card and walked to the gate, bypassing security, but that seemed unnecessary.

He had not met Ashley. So he watched for some young woman, blonde, who looked like Ashley’s picture. He didn’t want to alarm her or the rest of the team. Their plane had landed, according to the big screen. As he scanned the expectant people, he shook his head at how much of his job consisted of waiting for someone or some bit of information. With a continual stream of people meeting their families, Gordon kept a close watch. Then he saw her, laughing with a tall gentleman as they walked out of the concourse. Suddenly her eyebrows rose and she rushed ahead toward a young man who looked Arabian. They grasped hands and began to chat and smile broadly. Gordon sprang into action, moved forward, and interrupted their conversation.

“Are you Ashley Wells?” he asked, inserting himself between her and the Arab as the man backed away.

“Yes.” Her smile quickly faded. She looked frightened.

He pulled out his laminated card,
Gordon Appleby, FBI
, and put it away as soon as she had seen it. “I presume you know this gentleman?” he said, turning toward Najid. He suddenly looked familiar.

“Oh yes, Mr. Appleby. We’re good friends. He’s a Fulbright Scholar at U Dub. You don’t need to worry about him. In fact, he was thoroughly checked by the police after the bombing here in Seattle. I thought by you guys too.”

“Oh yeah . . . of course. Now I remember. He’s your friend that we investigated fully. We met in jail. You’re Najid, right? I’m sorry, I should
have recognized you. Thanks for understanding what we needed to do to investigate things fully. I’m sorry you were caught up in it.” They shook hands.

“Yes, sir, I remember you very well. You don’t forget a man who is well over two meters tall and gets you out of jail.”

Gordon chuckled. He ushered them over to the wall, out of traffic. The tall man approached with a worried look on his face. He looked first at Gordon and then at Najid.

“Are you OK, Ashley? Are these friends of yours?”

“Oh yeah. Jim, this is Najid, my friend from the U whose family I visited in Galilee. And,” turning to Gordon, “this is Gordon Appleby from the FBI.”

Appleby showed his card to Jim. “And you are?”

“Jim Swain.” Jim extended his hand. “A pastor, and team leader on our trip to the Holy Land.”

Gordon shook hands with both men. “Can we sit down somewhere privately and talk? I would be happy to have you two gentlemen join in the conversation with Ashley. It will be a few minutes for your luggage to come. Perhaps you could tell your families that you will meet them at the luggage carousels on the lower level.”

Gordon watched Jim returning to their table off by itself in the wide causeway outside an airport bookstore. People walked by, but the four could speak without being overheard.

“I apologize to you, Ashley, for startling you.” Gordon nodded to Ashley. “We have information that you should know, and these gentlemen, if you agree, should hear it because they may well be part of your protection.”

Ashley’s face blanched and her eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean, ‘protection’? I’m home now. Safe. Right? But go ahead. Najid and Jim are great friends now.”

“Ashley, there is some evidence that you may be perceived as a threat to someone here in the United States. Mossad, the Israeli intelligence people, already have a man in custody who admitted he abducted you in Jerusalem. They don’t have the whole story as yet, but they think that he has accomplices. Also they think he did this for money.”

“That makes sense.” Ashley sighed. “I wonder how they caught
him so quickly. I’m so glad they did! I never found out his name, but I think he was the same guy who followed me twice in Bethlehem. He seemed determined to abduct and do something to me. I just don’t know why.”

“We know his name’s Walid. Mossad is investigating, and they think that money came from the United States.”

“You are suggesting that someone here in the U.S. paid for a hit man in Israel?” Jim asked, his eyes wide.

“That’s exactly what Mossad is checking into as we speak.”

“So that means that there still could be someone in the United States who wants to harm Ashley?” Jim interjected.

“Yes. That is our concern right now. And that’s why I’m here this afternoon.”

“So how would someone like that know that Ashley went to Israel, and how would they find her there?”

“That wouldn’t be too hard. Was the trip publicized?”

“Yes it was, in our church. But not the names of those going,” Jim replied.

“Was the itinerary on your website?”

“Yes,” Jim admitted.

“There you are. If they found out somehow that Ashley would be on the trip, they would have her itinerary.”

Jim looked stunned. “I’d never thought that could be dangerous.”

“So Jim, the terrorists who did the bombing here in Seattle may perceive Ashley as a threat to them. Maybe they think she saw them at the synagogue.”

Ashley stared into space, trying to recall. Her memory for the event seemed so fragmentary. “Like I told investigators before, I don’t remember much that happened immediately before or after the blast. I was with Najid and I can’t even remember what we talked about.”

They glanced at Najid. “I reported all I remember to the police, right after the bombing.”

“Yes, Najid, we have that information, and despite jailing you, we appreciate what you did.”

“That’s alright, Mr. Appleby. The police did their best to learn what happened.”

“So, Ashley,” Gordon continued, “the point of all this is that you need to be careful and alert. You should always be with someone when you are out and about. There’s safety in numbers. Let your friends know if you are going to be away and where you will be. Keep in touch with them electronically, cell phone, text messages, e-mail, and through social media so if you suddenly become silent, they will be alerted and can contact us.”

“Can’t you protect her, Gordon?” Jim asked. “I mean not you personally, but the police or FBI?”

“We wish we could, Jim. I will tell you that we did have some intermittent surveillance on Ashley after she got out of the hospital. One of our people. That has been part of our investigation to identify the bomber, but not for her protection. We simply don’t have the manpower to do that. Besides the law allows only protection of key prosecution witnesses in a trial who may be or have been threatened by the defendant’s side. It really comes down to Ashley using her good judgment. Being out past midnight may be especially dangerous.”

“I planned to celebrate our return with friends.” Ashley shook her head. “I’m trying not to let fear control my life.”

“I am sorry, Ashley,” Gordon said. “But you need to know and be alert for anything that looks suspicious. In the meantime we and the police will be doing everything we can with this new information to find the bomber, whether here in Seattle or anywhere in the United States. We’ve had a tight check on international flights and borders ever since the bombing, so it’s likely he’s here in the country somewhere.”