Thanks so much for the reviews! It's time to meet the Doctor... ;-)
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THE DATE
CHAPTER 37
Peter Quinn stood next to the small window, squinting down the road that lead to the vast rocky valley below. He towered over Hana Bacho who was stood next to him and busy chewing her fingernails, as her daughters clutched her flowing abaya. Both Hana and Quinn could see a flickering form of red and black in the distance. The colourful fleck was starkly contrasted against the beige and green Syrian landscape behind and was moving in their direction, up the narrow road.
Hana seemed nervous as she tapped the glass and pointed, "It's my husband, Syed. He's running home."
Doctor Syed Bacho was clearly super-fit with a good pace as within minutes he was approaching the house. Quinn could see grey, particulate dust clouds emanating from the gravelly track beneath his once white trainers. His black shorts and red Lycra T-shirt were matt with dust and streaks of sweat.
Upon arrival outside his house, Syed put his hands on his hips and bent forwards, panting for a minute. As he resumed his stance, and stretched his muscular arms upwards, Quinn thought that he was probably the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. Syed was a lithe man, likely in his early forties. He took a swig of water from his clear plastic bottle and poured the remnants over his cropped dark hair. He swooshed the droplets off with his palm and strode confidently towards his front door. He seemed unperturbed by the unfamiliar SUV parked outside. Syed was obviously used to receiving unexpected and unknown visitors.
...
Syed's two little girls skipped towards the door, shouting excitedly for their Daddy in Arabic. They chattered and giggled with him as they returned to the lounge. Syed unselfconsciously stripped off his tight red T-Shirt and used it briefly to towel the sweat off his toned bare torso.
Quinn and the two Lebanese CIA agents allowed Syed to drink some more water before they dived into explaining, in Arabic, exactly who they were and why they were here to question him. Syed remained calm throughout and only frowned slightly at Hana when he had to reluctantly disclose that twice this week he'd been dragged to treat an American hostage who was being held by a local gang called the Children of Jihad.
Syed described how the leader of the gang had told him that they'd found the badly injured American soldier by the side of the road, near a burned-out ammunitions factory, rumoured to belong to Hezbollah guerillas. The Children of Jihad had stolen some guns that they'd discovered in a undamaged crate nearby, then thrown the American into the back of their truck. They weren't exactly sure what to do with him at the time, because they weren't into kidnapping any more. They held onto him because they considered their new hostage to be extremely valuable. They'd now decided to get rid of the American by selling him on to to another terrorist group, as quickly as possible. Syed explained that the Children of Jihad used to be part of a larger organisation that occasionally dabbled in crimes like kidnapping foreigners. However, they suffered heavy losses when some Israeli and European hostages were dramatically rescued a few years ago. Then a subsequent drone strike obliterated many of their compounds and families afterwards. The terrorist's numbers had been decimated and they generally avoided kidnapping foreign nationals now, because it was too time-consuming and too risky. There was always the fear that the drones would reappear in retaliation and they didn't want to risk that again. With their limited resources, they now focused on detonating car bombs near orthodox churches in the surrounding towns instead. The only kidnappings that they did infrequently nowadays, was the occasional local Christian Dentist or Clergyman.
...
"The American hostage?" Quinn reminded Syed exactly why they were questioning him. "Is he badly hurt?"
Syed nodded gravely and reached forwards to tap Quinn's left hip, "He was shot right here." He moved his hand upwards, lightly brushing Quinn's stomach, then his jaw, with his palm that was still perspiring slightly. "The hostage has injuries here... and here too... from the many beatings."
Quinn recoiled from Syed's unexpected touch, as much as his sickening words, "Beatings?"
Syed lowered his brown eyes to the floor and chewed his lip, seemingly in revulsion of what he may have witnessed. "I've told them to stop, or they will kill him."
Quinn narrowed his eyes at Syed suspiciously, "Why would the Children of Jihad bother to seek out and pay a Doctor to treat a hostage, then continue to beat him?"
Syed shrugged. "They asked me to treat his pelvic gun-shot wound. I patched him up and stopped the bleeding and infection spreading. They really want to keep him alive." Syed rubbed his smooth angular jaw, "They want the American alive, but use the beatings so he remains in pain and in fear."
Quinn felt a jolt within his gut, like the central electrode of a plasma orb igniting. The lightening adrenaline tendrils permeated outwards, his fists clenching first, then his burning ultra-blue eyes sparking viciously at Syed, as he hissed. "How can you sleep at night? Getting paid by terrorists!"
Syed glared back equally determinedly at Quinn, "I have no choice. They'll kill me and my family if I don't do what they ask." He glanced at his wife and blinked sorrowfully, "I'm likely a dead man already, for talking to you guys."
"Do you know the hostage's name?" crackled Quinn, still discharging his incandescent anger. Flies would be zapped to oblivion if they landed on him now.
"A guard supervises me so I can't speak to him," Syed shook his head sadly, before looking thoughtful. "The American is white with short brown hair. I couldn't see his eyes because of the blind-fold. He's fit, very nice muscles. Late thirties. Probably a good looking guy, without all the swelling and bruises."
It's definitely Rudy McCoy, then. Quinn inhaled and continue to glare at the Doctor with vehement hostility. He was momentarily disconcerted as he found himself noticing the sheen still present on Syed's bare pectoral muscles. He hated himself for feeling a flicker of relief that McCoy was always blind-folded when Syed had attended to him, so he couldn't appreciate those toned pecs himself.
Quinn flinched as his cell-phone suddenly started ringing loudly from his pocket. He answered it reluctantly and there was an eager panting puppy called Danny Galvez on the line. "I have some news on Abdul el-Zaid!"
"Wait a moment..." Quinn groaned inwardly in irritation, as he slowly backed out of the room, never taking his eyes off Syed Bacho's ridiculously chiselled abs. He gave a discrete nod to the two Lebanese CIA agents, indicating that they should continue to question him.
"Go on..." Quinn whispered into his cell-phone, as he entered the Bacho family's small kitchen and shut the door behind him.
"You were right about Abdul el-Zaid being a trader... but he didn't trade stocks!" Galvez was fizzing with excitement. "Guess what he traded?"
"Give me a moment, Galvez." Quinn collapsed down onto a wooden chair next to the small oval table. "I've just found that Rudy McCoy is still alive."
"Great news!" Galvez sounded like he was flitting around somewhere. "Well, this might be even more interesting for you then. We believe that Abdul el-Zaid traded people. He helped kidnap westerners then sold them onto terrorists!"
Quinn screwed his eyes up tightly, before rubbing them. "Abdul el-Zaid is dead isn't he?"
"Yes he is, but his widow Nadiyah is talking to us," whispered Galvez. "She's a CIA asset!"
"What the fuck, Galvez? Since when?" gasped Quinn, astounded. "We've researched every fucking el-Zaid on the planet over the last few weeks!"
"She's only been an asset for five weeks. She was going to be strictly off-the-books, but because of our blatant enquiries looking for Abdul el-Zaid, her local Lebanese handler has decided to come clean and talk to us. Before some idiot shows up and blows her cover."
"Some idiot?" growled Quinn."Like me you mean?!"
"Yes, an idiot like you, Quinn!" chuckled Galvez. "Actually, you're not an idiot at all. You picked the right Abdul and Nadiyah el-Zaid to investigate! It's highly likely that Brody did see Abdul in Iraq, doing a business deal with Abu Nazir several years ago."
"Yeah, but Brody can't have seen the same Abdul el-Zaid in the United States more recently, when he got dragged off in the helicopter to see Nazir." pondered Quinn. "Unless he saw a ghost!"
"No, but he might have seen someone who looked very much like Abdul el-Zaid. His son, Yasir, looks like him and spends a lot of time in the United States apparently."
"Why has Nadiyah become a CIA asset?" wondered Quinn.
"Because hell hath no fury like a woman scorned! After Abdul's death, a Cabin Manager from Ethiad Airways turned up at Nadiyah's villa in Rachaiya with three little kids in tow. Turned out that Abdul was their father and the mistress wanted serious money. Those poor little kids, I feel so sorry..."
"Get to the fucking point, Galvez!" barked Quinn.
"Well, Abdul travelled internationally a lot, particularly to the United States and Abu Dhabi. He had this long term affair with the Cabin Manager and it seems that most of his co-workers and shady business associates knew about it. Nadiyah decided to get her revenge on all of them, by becoming an asset for the CIA."
"So what's Nadiyah doing to stay involved with Abdul's colleagues and associates?" asked Quinn. "Still kidnapping?"
Galvez sounded serious, "Her cover at the moment is that she's in mourning after Abdul's death, but when she's good and ready she'll be taking over from Abdul in the family business of kidnapping and buying or selling hostages."
"What about her son, Yasir?" Quinn scratched his head.
"Yasir is Nadiyah's step-son actually and she hasn't seen him since Abdul's funeral. She believes he travelled to the United States afterwards," replied Galvez.
Quinn was thoughtful, "So there's definitely a real chance that Yasir was in the United States when Brody got off the helicopter and claims to have seen Abdul with Nazir?"
"Yes."
"Galvez, you need to bring Brody back in and interrogate him again. I think he's unsure whether he saw the father, or the son in the United States. Perhaps his memory is failing him in his old age, or he deliberately mislead us." A cold smile crept across Quinn's lips. "You need to interrogate him thoroughly. Push him over the edge if you need to. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Galvez cleared his throat anxiously. "Can I ask Carrie to do it?"
"No you fucking cannot! Do it yourself! You're a trained interrogator, so make yourself useful instead of drifting around the corridors of Langley like a bad smell!" snapped Quinn.
"Should I tell Saul?" asked Galvez, meekly.
Quinn grunted, "Yes, tell Saul everything."
"There's something else I need to tell you, actually." Galvez perked up. "Abdul and Yasir el-Zaid are not Lebanese, or from the middle-east, they're Americans."
"Brody was right then," smiled Quinn. "He said Abdul sounded American, that's why he first noticed him in Iraq."
"The Lebanese handler said that when Nadiyah first met Abdul in the United States, about twenty-five years ago, he had already converted to Islam. She thinks he was a Catholic, prior to becoming a Muslim and he was a widower living with his young son, Yasir. Hispanic-Americans, I think." Galvez sounded like he was shuffling some papers. "Nadiyah was a student from Jordan, a very wealthy and liberal Muslim girl and they fell in love. They moved to Jordan and got married, then moved to Abu Dhabi, then Damascus in Syria and then finally Rachaiya in Lebanon where Nadiyah still lives."
"Did Abdul and Yasir el-Zaid change their names at all along the way?" asked Quinn. "Either before, or after he met Nadiyah?"
"I'll find that out," said Galvez.
Quinn felt a surge of optimism, "Can you initiate contact with Nadiyah el-Zaid's handler? We could use Nadiyah's reputation and cover as a hostage trader, to pretend that she's interested in buying Rudy McCoy from the Children of Jihad."
"OK, I'm onto to it," replied Galvez, efficiently.
Quinn's mind was racing, "We'll speak later. I better go back and see Doctor Bacho."
"Bye Sir," squeaked Galvez. He sounded proud as punch that he was playing a useful role within the CIA again.
...
Quinn marched back through into the lounge and frowned at the two Lebanese CIA agents who were sat playing Angry Birds on their cell-phones, whilst the still bare-chested Syed Bacho rolled on the floor tickling his two young daughters. Only Hana was standing, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as she looked anxiously out of the window.
"Doctor Bacho, I need your co-operation and assistance in making a plan to rescue the American hostage," Quinn glowered at Syed. "Then you have my word that we'll get you and your family out of Syria and to safety."
Syed grinned and hugged his daughters close. He nodded his assent as he looked up at Quinn, "Thank you. We've wanted to leave here for a long time."
Hana Bacho gulped emotionally, then a tear of relief trickled down her cheek. She scuttled out of the overcrowded lounge towards the private retreat of her small kitchen.
Quinn's darting blue eyes eventually met Syed's steady brown gaze. He knew that they needed to spend some time together and discuss how to rescue Rudy McCoy, the American hostage with very nice muscles; probably a good looking guy, without all the swelling and bruises.