into the driveway of a ranch-style house and woke up the sleeping men.
“This is where you’ll be staying until we’re ready to act,” he said. “The refrigerator is fully stocked, and there’s cable television. I’ll make runs with groceries around this time, once a week. If there are problems, tell me then. I’ll give you a cell phone number, but it’s only for emergencies. Remember, the Americans can listen in on your calls. You’ll ask for pizza, and I’ll say you have the wrong number. Then I’ll come right over.
“This house is pretty isolated. The nearest neighbors are a quarter mile away. You shouldn’t get visitors. If you do, tell them you’re students, and use the cover story you were given. Any questions?”
Steve showed them around the house and got them set up. There were clothes in the closets in everyone’s size and food in the kitchen.
“You’ll receive instructions soon,” Steve said before he left. “Be patient and trust in Allah. You will make history.”
Despite the sleep he had gotten during the drive, Ali was logy when they arrived at the house. His initial elation in the harbor was gone. Before he’d gotten out of the car, he was beset by doubts that depressed him. Things could go wrong. They could fail. The CIA and FBI were not fools. What if they were caught?
Steve’s last words elated Ali and erased his doubts. Allah was great, and he would see to their success. Steve closed the door behind him. Ali heard the car start. He looked through the slats in the Venetian blinds in the living room and watched the station wagon drive off. It had a Virginia license plate, and Ali memorized it when it passed beneath a streetlight. There was no reason for him to do it. He was just good with numbers and had an excellent memory, and the license plate number was filed away without much conscious thought.
Chapter Seven
The weather in Portland was unseasonably warm, and Jack Carson kept his window rolled down as he drove to Dunthorpe, eschewing air conditioning for the breeze that drifted off the Willamette River. In the distance, Mount Hood loomed, the setting sun tinting its snowy coat to a lovely rose color, but Jack was too on edge to take in the beauty of his surroundings. Normally, he would have had an aide drive him, but he’d given his staff the night off. He’d convinced himself that he’d done this because they’d been working hard and needed some downtime, but his subconscious was rife with images of Jessica Koshani naked and in bed, something he’d never see if a young staffer was waiting in his car or camping out in some part of Koshani’s house.
Carson followed Koshani’s directions and turned toward the river onto a narrow street that wound between large homes surrounded by expensively landscaped grounds. The house he was looking for was guarded by a gate that swung open moments after he announced himself through an intercom. Jack drove into a courtyard and parked near the front door of a house that was similar to Italian villas he’d seen during a family trip to Tuscany. Jessica Koshani was waiting for him at the front door, her jet black hair falling loosely across the shoulders of a yellow blouse that was tucked into tight jeans that emphasized her long legs.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” she said when the senator got out of his car.
“This is very nice,” he answered.
“We’ll go around back to the patio. It looks out on the river. It’s wonderful being outdoors at this time of night. Can I get you something cool to drink? I make a mean martini, and I’ve got a full bar.”
“Gin and tonic would be great.”
“What brand of gin do you prefer?” she asked as she led him through a large living room toward French doors that opened onto a wide terra-cotta patio.
Koshani left the senator with the view while she went inside to fix his drink. His heart rate was up and his mouth was dry. He tried to calm himself and hoped that the gin would help. Koshani walked out of the house with two drinks. His glass felt cold and damp against his hand. He took a quick sip and the cool lime taste chilled him.
“This is a great spot,” Carson said.
“As soon as the weather turns, I’m out here every chance I get.” Koshani smiled. “But you’re not here to talk about the view.”
Carson had noticed a manila envelope lying on a glass end table at Koshani’s elbow. She handed it to him. He opened it and took out five checks. Each was to the account of a different business situated in a different state and each was for twenty-five thousand dollars.
“This is very generous,” Carson said.
“Senator, you are one of only a few congressmen who are objective about American aggression in the Middle East. Neither I nor any of the people who have made these contributions have any sympathy for terrorists. They do not represent true Islam, and they have turned the world against every Muslim. We value a man with the courage to say that American policy in the Middle East might be wrong and not all Muslims are psychotic terrorists; a man who knows that most Muslims are men and women like the men and women in America, who only want to provide for their families and would love to live in a world where peace reigns.”
Carson blushed as Koshani showered him with praise. “I’ve always tried to keep an open mind.” He smiled. “I like to think my open-mindedness is a product of my scientific training.”
Koshani nodded. “There is no doubt that you are one of the most intelligent senators. I often wish there were more scientists in the legislature, people trained to avoid jumping to conclusions unsupported by evidence.”
Koshani and the senator continued to talk about politics, world affairs, and many other subjects as the sun set. Koshani stroked his ego and provided him with several more cooling drinks. By the second drink, the senator’s thinking had become a bit muddled, and he realized that he was becoming sexually aroused. He chalked up his agitated and confused state to the proverbial one drink too many, not to anything Koshani may have slipped into his gin and tonic. When he finally stood to leave, Carson wobbled a bit and Koshani pressed close to brace him. Carson had no idea how it happened, but moments after he stumbled, he had wrapped his arms around Koshani and they were kissing while her hand stroked him gently but urgently. When he left for home, he was thoroughly exhausted and completely sated by the most explosive sex he had ever experienced.
Part II
Chapter Eight
T he moment Millie Reston woke up, she knew she was beginning one of the best days of her life, and life had been pretty good lately. When Judge Case ordered new trials for Clarence, every television station in the state featured the interview she’d given after court, and she became the hot new attorney in town. The retainer that the parents of a man convicted of murder had paid her to handle his appeal would cover her rent for the next two years; a drug dealer who had exhausted his appeals paid her an outrageous sum to file for habeas corpus relief in federal court; and there were less extravagant retainers that, taken together, amounted to a tidy sum. Millie would never have had the courage to ask for the money she’d quoted these clients if it hadn’t been for the self-confidence Clarence’s love had fostered.
The penitentiary was for convicted felons. As soon as his convictions were set aside, Clarence was presumed innocent of the charges against him, and he had been transferred to the Multnomah County jail in downtown Portland, a few blocks from her office. In anticipation of the transfer, Millie had sprung for a makeover and had had her hair styled in Portland’s top salon. After she showered and applied her makeup, she put on a new outfit she had purchased especially for today, the first day she and Clarence would be able to touch each other without bulletproof glass to stop the warmth from passing from Clarence’s hand into hers.
Millie hummed as she drove downtown. After parking in a lot near her office, she walked to the Justice
