“Don’t look at me,” Hunt said, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t have the vaguest idea and I don’t want to know.”
The kitchen fell silent. On the other side of the door, Jessie could hear grunts and the sounds of a brief struggle. In the kitchen, no one uttered a word.
Bran said something. Ahmed gave a muffled reply. There was a sharp snapping sound, then a buzzing noise, then silence.
“What is happening?” Mara asked, a faint Middle Eastern accent now discernible.
No one answered.
The snapping, buzzing sound came again, followed by a muffled shriek, then silence.
“You have to stop him,” Mara pleaded, panic in her eyes.
Jessie was thinking the same thing. Except that her father was dead, and Ahmed and his friends had killed him and were now trying to kill her.
More snapping and buzzing, another muffled shriek, then silence. Jessie’s heart was thundering so hard she wondered if the others could hear it.
“He won’t...he won’t kill him?” Mara asked.
“I doubt it,” Hunt said. “Too messy. He won’t want trouble with the police.”
Mara made a sound in her throat.
Time dragged on. When the snapping, buzzing sound came again, Jessie started moving. Her legs were shaking as she crossed to the garage door. How far was she willing to go to get answers that might save people’s lives? It was the same moral dilemma people had faced since the beginning of time. She thought of her dad and the honorable man he had been, and reached for the knob just as it turned and the door swung open.
Bran looked at her pale face, reached out and caught her shoulder. “He’s fine. A little the worse for wear, but he’ll be okay. We need to call General Holloway, have him deal with the situation.” Holloway wanted the weapons found. He would know who to contact to deal with a terrorist threat.
Her heart was still throbbing. She thought of Holloway and the phone call she had received that morning. Something about it had nagged her all day. How many people had known Wayne Coffman was their only link to Edgar Weaver? Who knew that Weaver could be the key to finding a major player in the theft of the weapons? Holloway was one of very few.
And Holloway could easily have arranged for Mara to be invited to a party her father was attending.
She cast Bran an uneasy glance. “I don’t know...maybe we should call Agent Tripp at the CID.”
Bran’s gaze zeroed in on hers and locked in silent communication. “Maybe we’d better call them both.”
