Sparkles Page 7

  “What, another minimalist ensemble with black drapery and black pearls? People want pageantry, Liz! This is Handel for God’s sake, not Alvin Ailey!” Bruce said, his voice taking on a tone just short of derision.

  The two turned and looked to Charlotte to decide which would win the battle of egos.

  Charlotte bowed her head. These two are going to kill me! Aram is the only one who isn’t a prima donna around here!

  Her choices were limited: wait for Aram to show up or cancel the hoped-for production of the rarely performed Alexander’s Feast and headline Cavalleria Rusticana, or let Liz Morales have a go at the costumes for the Alexander.

  Charlotte said, “Okay, Liz, you give it a shot. If we have to, we can bump up the Cav. Then, if Aram shows up, we can reconvene. Anything else? No? Then we’re adjourned.”

  Bruce and Elizabeth left Charlotte deep in thought. Tardiness was not in Aram Faji’s rulebook. That he had missed an important meeting was disturbing. She knew Aram well. He was talented, conscientious, and punctual. Charlotte knew something else about Aram the others did not. The two had been lovers. That was long before he had married, and before Charlotte was involved with the Quaker City Opera. The affair ended for a host of reasons that both acknowledged, but failed to comprehend in spiritual terms. Still, they remained friends. When Charlotte needed an artist who could manage huge costume designs and changes, she immediately thought of her former lover. There was another bit of information neither Elizabeth nor Bruce had. Aram had left a disjointed message on her home answering service the night before. Charlotte had been too tired to make anything out of it, and so she deleted it thinking Aram would explain everything at the meeting. Now she wished she hadn’t been so hasty.

  Chapter 21

  Sleuths

  SCHILLER EMITTED a cautious woof as Jan rapped on the door.

  Jan pushed the front door open.

  “Mrs. Fabian? Are you decent?”

  “Alas, Jan, I’m fully dressed. I didn’t have time to slip into my peignoir before you arrived—forgive me?”

  “I’ll try to get over it,” he laughed.

  “Come sit down. The tea is ready and the bakery just sent over some apricot scones. I know how much you like them.”

  Jan took his usual seat. Aïda ran her hands over the tea service until she found the pot and began pouring.

  “You’re watching me,” Aïda scolded.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just amazed how you do all this yourself.”

  “It’s not so hard, Jan… once you get used to it…. So, what’s new in our fair city today?”

  “Hmm? Oh, uh, nothing much to interest us.”

  “Oh, that is disappointing. I was hoping for a real mystery.”

  “There is one thing that’s got the cops puzzled. It’s that rash of thefts in the diamond district. It seems the thieves are hitting the couriers en route, which suggests an inside connection. They strike, lie low, and then strike again. Two of the couriers have been severely beaten, and one is permanently crippled. Needless to say, the gem merchants on Samson Street are on edge. The thing is, no one knows where the gems are, or even if they’re still in the country. They spend like cash and they’re untraceable.”

  “I don’t doubt they are,” Aïda said.

  The pair sat silently sipping tea until Aïda said, “I heard on the radio that the Coast Guard pulled a body out of the river this morning. They were pretty vague about the circumstances. Now that would be interesting, don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, and that reminds me. I have a real puzzle for you.”

  “Oh good! I knew you wouldn’t let me down. What is it?”

  “Well, I was at the Broad Street Diner, and I came across a paper napkin with writing on it—scribbling more like it. I can’t make heads nor tails of it. I thought this would be right up your alley.”

  “Writing? What kind of writing?”

  “Oh, it’s English, but it’s a jumble of words and initials, with a few numbers thrown into the mix. Oh, yeah, and there’s a chemical formula. I’ll need to work it out when I get time.”

  “What makes you think it means anything other than just someone doodling?”

  “Call it a hunch.”

  Aïda said, “Okay, let’s give it a try.”

  “It’s kinda fragile, so I have to be careful with it,” Jan said. “Now there’s writing on both sides. I’ll read each word as it occurs on the topside from left to right. Then I’ll read the reverse side the same way. Okay?”

  “Whatever you say, just don’t keep me in suspense!”

  “Well, here goes.” Jan read, “THEIR AF; EYES GFH are all in upper case. Then the numbers 555-0055—looks like a phone number.”

  “That’s not all, is it?” Aïda asked anxiously.

  “No. There’s a drawing of an X-shaped shield with cross-hatching across the top, and what looks like the radiation symbol, except it has one too many blades surrounding the center dot. And, as I said, there is this chemical structure. There’s also a drawing of what looks like a windmill, but one of the blades is missing.”

  Aïda rubbed her forehead. “Jan, are you sure this is supposed to mean something?”

  “Mrs. Fabian, I’m not sure of anything, but there’s more. I just have to flip it over without tearing it.”

  “Oh, this is exciting! I love brain teasers, don’t you, Jan?”

  “So long as they don’t give me a headache, yes…. Okay, here goes; That; From; Flash; Sparkles; The.”

  Jan concluded the description adding, “There’s another X-shaped symbol with the same cross-hatching across the top and number 3 in the center. Below this is a series of what looks like flames, at least that’s how I see them, and a cloud of smoke leaping up around the whole thing.”

  After a long silence Aïda said, “Have some more tea, dear.”

  “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  “Of course not! I want you to take this into my study and type the whole thing out on my Braille computer. You’ll have to do the drawings by hand with the punch. I’ll look it over tonight.”

  “I’ll do the drawing and send Amal over with them. Now I’ve got to get going.”

  “Oh, so soon?”

  “Sorry, I’m off to toil in the cause of justice.”

  “Don’t work too hard,” Aïda said to the door as it closed softly, leaving her alone with the clock’s tick-tock.

  Chapter 22

  Salem, New Jersey

  DUSK WAS gathering up the remnants of daylight, pushing them deeper into darkness. A black sedan slowly made its way along an elevated dirt and gravel track. The road, just wide enough to allow a car to pass, snaked through a marshy floodplain along the Delaware River. Adel Kamiri drove. His destination was a two-story hunting lodge made of dull red brick. Slight of build, with dark brown hair and dark eyes that blazed with hatred for the infidel, Adel was what was known as a gatherer. His task was to locate and bring together the sleepers of al-Qaida of the East—those who stood ready to bring the great whore America to its knees. Two men sat in the rear of the car. Known only by their first names, Naji and Firouz, they carried with them the ciphered instructions for what would be a cataclysmic event, one that would overshadow all other attacks upon those who would deny the right of Islam to rule the world.

  Adel maneuvered the car close to the rear of the house and turned off the engine. A shadow of a man moved in the distance. “Who is that?” Firouz asked nervously.

  “His name is Sinan,” Adel said. “He likes to take walks in the marsh. He said it reminds him of his home near Hawizeh.”

  Seeming satisfied, Firouz changed the subject. “I have not eaten since afternoon prayer. Can we not go inside?”

  “Be patient,” Adel said. “We must wait a moment longer. This may be America, but we still may not enter a house without an invitation.”

  “Is this where we will meet our leader?” Naji asked as he peered out into the darkness.

  “I do not know,” Ad
el answered. “I have never met our leader. Perhaps he will join us, but I cannot say.”

  Just then a woman, her head covered with a tight scarf of black cotton, opened the back door and walked the short distance that separated the house from the parking pad. She approached the car, her hands folded under her chin. “As-salāmu ʿalaykumā,” she said.

  The three men exited the car and replied, “Waʿalaykumu s-salām.”

  “My name is Daria. Come, you will want to eat. I have already set out meals for you. Sinan has already eaten.”

  Firouz hurried after the woman while Naji and Adel unloaded their backpacks from the car’s trunk.

  Naji laughed. “Sinan thinks only of food!” Naji turned to see a deep scowl on Adel’s face.

  “He had better start thinking of other things,” Adel said. “Hunger is nothing compared to our great endeavor.”

  “Enshallah.”

  Adel nodded. “Yes, Naji. If Allah wills it.”

  OUTSIDE, THE deep darkness was broken by a sky of scattered stars. Inside, a fire in the hearth warmed a small arc in front of a sofa. Low-watt lightbulbs in the lamps gave off just enough light to read by. Once they had eaten and their evening prayers had been said, Daria cleared the dishes away, and then joined her coconspirators gathered in the living room. The men sat on a threadbare sofa. Its pattern, if there ever was one, had been erased by many seasons of use. They began to smoke what would be many cigarettes over the course of the evening. Daria, according to custom, had eaten alone in the small kitchen. Now she sat on a straight-backed chair of hard wood. She did not smoke.

  “Sinan,” Daria asked, “how was your walk in the marsh?”

  The handsome young man smiled. “You would not believe the number of animals I have seen here that live also in Hawizeh! It is truly amazing.”

  Daria gave an indulgent smile. She knew that the nineteen-year-old would probably not live to see his beloved home once they began their mission. She looked at each man with a mixture of pride and sadness. Still, if we are to see the global caliphate that the Supreme Leader has promised, it must be so.

  Puzzled, Naji looked around the room and asked, “Only five? Will anyone else be joining us?”

  Daria answered, “Our beloved faith has but five pillars. Five will be sufficient.”

  “Our team leader may have something to say about that!” Firouz said.

  Adel gave Daria a questioning look. “Daria, what is going on? Where is the leader?”

  Daria stood. Looking each man in the eye, she said, “I am your team leader.”

  Naji leapt to his feet. “What is this? You, a woman…!”

  “Sit down, Naji!” Daria said.

  Turning to Firouz she asked, “You have our final instructions?”

  Firouz nodded. “I have them here beside me. They are in a code I know well.”

  “Firouz, that is one of the reasons you were chosen for our work here. You know the cipher. Read the words, and see who is named as your leader.”

  Firouz unsealed a large manila envelope. He pulled out a map and single sheet of paper. Firouz read aloud the ciphered message from a commander in the Revolutionary Guard. The orders were brief and to the point. The team was to detonate plastic explosives at three nuclear power plants along the highly populated areas of the United States. Each member was personally chosen, and was instructed to follow the team leader’s directives without question. Firouz stumbled when he came to Daria’s name but read on. “It says Daria has been given the highest clearance for this mission.”

  The men sat in stunned silence. Their world had suddenly taken a decidedly upside-down turn.

  “Now that that issue is out of the way,” Daria said, “let us discuss the Vice-Regal Diamond. Once it is in the hands of our contact in Amsterdam, he will make the last deposit of money into our account. From this, we can purchase the remaining materials necessary for our little dirty bombs. Our job is to place the bombs at each of the nuclear power stations from New York down to here in New Jersey.” Daria pointed to a spot on the map. “You can see we are quite close to the Salem plant. As soon as I get the signal that we have succeeded in placing the bombs, I will detonate them simultaneously. Our man in Pyongyang will be richer than he already is, and we will have served a great cause. But first comes the money. The Supreme Leader has chosen for this operation the code name, Revenge!”

  “I do not like dealing with the godless North Koreans,” Adel said.

  Daria smiled. “Once the world caliphate is established, they will no longer be godless.”

  “Enshallah,” the men responded in unison.

  Sinan had remained silent for most the conversation. He now stood on shaky legs. “We have a problem.”

  “What?” Daria asked.

  “As you know, Daria, our plan to have the diamond cut into pieces was aborted, because our Amsterdam contact wanted it intact… or no money… and so Adel and I got the diamond from that stupid American as he was taking it to the jewelers. We searched for the key, but we couldn’t find it. In the end, I had to cut the attaché case off his wrist. Aram Faji was there with us. I can tell you that involving him was a mistake. He became very agitated. He began to say he didn’t want any part of this. Since the plan was to have him keep the diamond safe, and because, in my opinion, the plan had been wrongly changed once already, I decided to go ahead with having Aram take it. Anyway, he was supposed to hide the diamond until it arrived in Amsterdam. When Adel and I met with Aram at the Broad Street Diner, he said he no longer had the diamond.”

  Daria held up her hand. The others sat stunned. “Sinan,” she said, “are you telling us that we no longer have this jewel, the jewel that’s supposed to pay for the last, and most important, segment of the plan? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Sinan hung his head and nodded. “After we left the diner, I followed Aram. I caught up with him near the river. There is an abandoned warehouse by the water. I don’t know why he went there. I thought he had hidden the diamond there. At first we just argued, but then he yelled he was no longer a jihadist. He said we were going to be mass murderers and that Allah would punish us. He just kept yelling and yelling. I was afraid someone would hear us. We fought. I thought I could make him tell me where he hid the diamond. I lost my head. I kept hitting him. I… I killed him. I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t mean to… I… I am sorry.”

  Daria grabbed Sinan by his hair and shook him so hard he fell to his knees. “You stupid, stupid man! I swear by Allah if we fail because of you, I will kill you with my bare hands! I’d do it now if our mission didn’t need you alive.”

  Daria pushed the man away and then turned to Adel. “And you, Adel. What were you doing when this idiot was killing our best link to success?”

  Adel shifted uneasily. “I was up by the road that leads to the warehouse. I was to warn Sinan if someone came. I—”

  Daria held up her hand. “That’s enough! I can’t listen to any more excuses.”

  The room went silent. Daria paced in the lamps’ dim light.

  “So now we have no idea where the diamond is.” Daria said this more to herself than to the others. “I cannot believe our sacred mission rests on a rock… I must consider what to do next. We have not come this far to fail.”

  “We still have a large amount of explosives,” Sinan said hopefully. “We could go to a large city and set them off.”

  Daria frowned at the man. “If it comes to that, then so be it. But before that I need to think. Perhaps there is a way to fix this mess you’ve gotten us into.”

  Adel stubbed out his cigarette and stood. He began turning off the lamps until only the light from the glowing fireplace lit the room. “I am going to bed. There is nothing we can do tonight.”

  The men left the room, leaving Daria to formulate a new plan of attack.

  Chapter 23

  Diamonds in Disguise

  LIZ MORALES sat in the middle of a kaleidoscope of color and texture that swirled from rack upon rack of costu
mes. Clothes made by Aram Faji for the Quaker City’s production of Handel’s rarely performed Alexander’s Feast.

  I can’t believe this, she thought as she ran her hand over sheer gauze and silk dresses studded with glittering gems of blue sapphire, red garnet, yellow topaz, and dazzling diamonds: all beautiful, all fake.

  In one corner, mannequins stood like silent Macedonian warriors—their forms dressed in full battle gear. Helmets festooned with red plumes of faux horsehair gleamed under the studio’s fluorescent lights. The scent of yards of leather used for everything from shield coverings to sandals hung lightly in the air. Pinned to one of the garments was an invoice from a trim shop.

  Bruce Fletcher rapped on the door before entering Aram’s studio.

  “My God, Liz! This is amazing!”

  Liz looked up at her rival. “Yeah, I know. I can’t believe it myself.”

  “What are you going to do?” Bruce said.

  “Nothing. It’s all done. I guess you get the last laugh on me, Bruce.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m not laughing…. Come on, we’d better tell Charlotte.”

  “She’s not here. She went home early. I’ll speak to her when she comes in tomorrow.”

  Bruce switched off the lights as the two left the studio. “I guess Charlotte gets her wish after all.”

  “What do you mean?” Liz asked, puzzled.

  “Looks like we’ll be doing the Handel after all…. Amsterdam here we come, again!”

  Chapter 24

  Charlotte De Vere’s Townhouse

  CHARLOTTE DE Vere was, as they say in all the TV soap operas, very much in love—in point of fact she was in love with Daniel Jelski. In her opinion, Daniel had all the winning qualities that made women fall head over heels for a man: humor, cheerfulness, generosity, dashing good looks, and oh yes, solvency. Yet she judged as chief among his lovable traits his aura of peaceful strength. It was the kind of self-possessed power that only the truly strong can afford to display. Daniel did so with fearless modesty.