“We need all the help we can get.”
The guy’s right; there are a lot of things I need to sort before I’m ready, Phil thought as he got up and slipped his feet into his flip-flops. Worrying over Rebecca, he was too distracted to think straight or sleep. Tiptoeing into the living room, Phil let himself out onto the beach for some fresh air by opening the sliding door to the porch outside. The crisp, salty breeze hit him the moment he stepped out onto the soft white sand. He headed towards the recreation room because, as well as coffee, there was a phone he could use there.
Early morning here means evening back in the US, he pondered, looking at his watch. It was a good time to call Rebecca’s parents.
As he spoke to her distressed mother and father, Phil could hear the pain in their frantic voices. The last he had seen Marge and Bill Fainey was when he had gone to wish Rebecca goodbye before leaving for Nancowry.
“I have a little something for you, Phil,” Mrs. Fainey said, handing him a gift-wrapped package. “I hear it rains a lot where you’re going!”
It was a bright yellow plastic raincoat, and they all laughed when he tried it on. Rebecca giggled, “Don’t try any cloak and dagger stuff in that thing, Phil; you’ll be spotted a mile away!”
She now gave Phil a contact number for Ron’s father. Phil was surprised by the knowledge that the man worked for the CIA.
Rebecca didn’t mention this, but then why would she? Phil thought. Was the bombing a possible revenge attack?
“John Clooney said he had spoken with Ron and Rebecca the day before the bombing in Afghanistan,” said Marge Fainey, her voice quivering with emotion. “They planned to cross into Pakistan after their mission and visit him at his posting in Peshawar. Ron was his only child, you know; the poor man’s devastated!”
Rebecca was the Fainey’s only child, too, and he could only imagine what these parents were going through. Phil could feel their misery in their talks, but at least they had some hope; Mr. Clooney had none. His son was gone, and he would never see him again.
Phil figured he’d call him, but hesitated, imagining the awful state of the man.
Children are meant to outlive their parents, not the other way around. Losing a loved one is always heartbreaking, he thought, remembering his mother.
As a part of a school project, Phil had become interested in the issue of terrorists and terrorism. Another reason for his interest, of course, was to know more about the people who could do this to his mother. He had immersed himself in the subject, followed blogs and Facebook groups on the internet; anything concerned with people and places that spawned such activities was of interest to him. He was curious to learn more about this topic; he could not understand why people resorted to such extreme acts of violence to justify real or imagined offenses against them.
“There are other civilized ways of resolving issues instead of brutalizing innocents,” he believed then as he did now.
During his study, Phil encountered various people who were involved with terrorism, one way or another. These members of extremist groups and writers of sympathetic blogs both welcomed and condemned him; they had also shown him his place in the world. He understood their attempts to try to radicalize him, but Phil was too smart to fall for that stuff.
He had built up a special rapport with many of these individuals, but as he graduated and matured, he lost interest and stopped all communication with them. Now he had to reactivate his connections; he needed their input on this latest atrocity.
“A word or a comment could be the key to finding Rebecca,” he vowed. “If it means dredging up obnoxious links, so be it!”
As Phil walked on the beach, the fresh stillness of the morning calmed him and allowed him to focus. He recalled the long talks he had had with the people in the groups. Aly, Zara, Akram, Waseem and a young boy called Zakir. He smiled as he thought of them, wondering if he could find them again.
“I must locate these guys,” Phil decided. “They love to brag and may give up something important during their boastful claims.”
A furry head nuzzled his back. Startled, he turned around to see Remu, one of the two emus the school had adopted on campus. Not in the mood to play right now, Phil tried to take no notice of the big bird. Remu would not be ignored and followed closely, nudging him with his beak and begging for attention.
“Here, Remu,” Phil heard a voice behind him and turned to see Ismail walking towards him.
“Good morning, Phil, how are you doing?”
“Okay, I guess, not much progress yet on my inquiries. Doctors without Borders have shifted all inquiries to the United Nations; I’m trying to reach the group in charge of covert operations there.”
Ismail had something in his hand, and Remu ran up to him. He threw the branch as far as he could, and they laughed as they watched the clumsy bird flap off to fetch it like an obedient puppy.
Remu picked up the branch and was distracted by Amir, who sped past them on the beach. Remu lost interest in the tree branch and began chasing after the runner. They watched the bird’s antics, laughing as they walked together.
“I’ve been doing some digging myself. It’s easier for me to get comfortable with the residents of the area and get information,” Ismael said. “I’ve managed to talk to people who live close by to where the incident took place, and they’re going to look into things. I’m very hopeful we’ll get some information from them.”
Ismail was a Palestinian Muslim living in Jerusalem. He had such a serious-minded nature. Phil was often worried that Ismail might be offended by his dark, droll humor. Phil was always interested in Ismail’s thought processes; he came out with some strange remarks, which turned out to be brilliant observations once he explained what he meant.
“That’s very good of you, Ismail. Thanks, it means a lot to me.”
“Phil, that’s the reason we’re here in this school. Our training should get us ready for this job. Going to the area to search for Rebecca would be an ideal mission for us.”
“I agree, Ismail. And Mr. Franklin agrees too. But he says we need some reliable sources and leads relating to where to go and what we do. We must already have some relationships there and some idea of what we need to do.”
“Yes, it makes sense. If we go on digging, I’m sure we’ll find something,” added Ismail as they headed into the breakfast section of the recreation room.
Phil could see the blue-green water of the ocean, and the residences through the large windows that surrounded the room. The 10-acre campus had exotic animals, including peacocks, the pair of emus and a few monkeys sharing the space. The traditional classes took place in the Quad behind the recreation room. The school had a lot of innovative spots, such as the gazebos where the professors shared their wisdom. There were about 75 live-in students enrolled in various three-year courses.
Phil was sure Shambu, his roommate, would be awake by now. Since today was Sunday, Shambu would likely spend his morning with the animals he loved so much. Phil’s favorite place was still this open recreation room with the food and the constant chatter and exchange of ideas. Compared to weekdays, the atmosphere today was relaxed. He saw Sophie and Zeina sitting at a table, and he made his way there with his coffee and donuts and Ismail.
“Hello!” greeted Cookie, Sophie’s squeaky parrot, brought from her homeland in Argentina.
“Hi!” replied Phil absentmindedly, taking a seat away from the bird and cage.
Ismail gave Cookie a slice of mango, and Cookie rewarded him with a whistle.
Zeina was sipping some exotic-looking juice while Sophie was eating chocolate pancakes that looked very tempting.
“That looks good,” said Phil, pointing at Sophie’s plate.
“They’re yummy!” said Sophie, taking a big bite smothered in syrup while she brushed her unruly curls from her face with the back of her hand.
“Saw you on the beach earlier. Any news?” asked Zeina.
Phil shook his head. He needed to contact Mr. Clooney and waited for their timings to be aligned.
“I have a list of important terrorist groups in the area. From what my sources tell me, Talib-e-Azad is the group most likely suspected of the bombing. We can concentrate on them until proven otherwise.”
Phil and Ismail both looked at Zeina in astonishment. Right or wrong, at last, here was a real clue to investigate.
“Nice, Zeina,” praised Phil by way of thanks, and she replied, “That’s what friends are for.”
The next piece of news came at 3 a.m. the following morning when Phil’s phone woke him. He struggled to recognize the number; then, he remembered. He’d tried to reach Ron’s father, who was now back in the United States for the burial of his son.
“Mr. Clooney?” mumbled Phil groggily. “Just one minute.”
He got up, closed the door, and went into the living room.
“Thank you so much for returning my call,” said Phil. “I’m so sorry about Ron. I can only imagine what you must be going through.”
“Yes,” was the short reply, and Phil heard the anger in his voice. “Sorry for calling at this time. I know it’s an inconvenient hour for you, but between the funeral and my traveling, I thought it was better to call sooner rather than later.”
“No problem; I’m glad you called, Mr. Clooney,” Phil went silent as words failed him.
“Phil, I called you specifically to dissuade you from the plan you wish to pursue. Mrs. Fainey told me about you.”
“We’re starting a search team from the school to go looking for Rebecca. She and I, we grew up together, and I can’t sit here, not doing anything,” he emphasized.
“The people who did this, as you know, are ruthless. Leave them for us to deal with,” Clooney insisted.
Phil remained silent, thinking of Rebecca. How could he not respond; he had to go to her.
“Phil…” he heard the man reaching out to him.
“Sir, not doing anything will kill me anyway. I’m at a school that’s specifically designed to deal with international catastrophes. Our students go all over the world to resolve issues and have been very successful. This mission will reinforce our teaching. I love Rebecca, as your son did. As friends, we’re very close.”
“I understand that and know all about your studies, but this is different,” argued Clooney. “Once over there, I know you’ll automatically put yourself in danger. I can see a perfect opportunity for the terrorists to strike again.”
“An ideal situation to put our theories into practice! You must understand, Mr. Clooney, that we do not have the option to sit around and wait while Rebecca is still out there. At this very moment, she could be in grave danger, if not dead already. Please, give us a chance; we have started gathering Intel; does Talib-e-Azad sound familiar?”
“Whoa, how did you come across that name?” Clooney sounded surprised.
“As I said, we have started digging around,” said Phil, glad of the response and mentally thanking Zeina. “A tip-off says these guys were responsible for the killing. It’s in the early days yet, but we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“Okay, the fact is we’ve been after that group for a while now in connection with their kidnapping of kids. They took a local chieftain’s son some years ago and had to deal with us,” Clooney’s words came pouring out. “We strongly feel Talib-e-Azad is behind this murderous act to send a message to my organization. If they had picked up that Ron was my son, well, they too have their Intel, and that could have made my boy a target. You can imagine how that makes me feel and why we can’t lose anyone else. The whole mess there is a matter for the professionals.”
“Sir, with respect, we might not quite be that yet in your eyes, but we aren’t amateurs, either,” Phil asserted firmly. “Our training prepares us for situations just like this, and Rebecca must receive all the help she can get. We’re completing our homework for official permission from the school and the UN to proceed with the mission. I’d appreciate any updated information you have; you see, like Rebecca, we need all the help we can get.”
“Alright, son, let me see what I can do. I’m leaving to go back to the area in a couple of hours,” said Clooney and Phil breathed a sigh of relief.
“Sir, I’ll contact you in a day or two. I have your email and will send you mine so we can stay in touch. We can only pray Rebecca is safe.”
“Son, I have made that my goal, and rest assured, we’ll find her. And, from what I’ve seen and known of Rebecca, she isn’t someone to lie down quietly.”
Phil smiled at the comment and replied, “Yes, sir, that’s my girl!”