Krystal Scent (Krystal Vibration Series Book 2) Read online

  Veteran sailors referred to the route from Yemen to the Suez Canal as the “route of fear.” Many of the commercial freighters were now traveling with their own armed guards who positioned themselves at the bow of the ships and brandished their weapons to send a warning to would-be pirates. Razor wire was also stretched over the deck to discourage bandits from boarding.

  On a rotating schedule, fleets from twenty-five separate countries allied to escort cargo ships through the 580-mile Gulf of Aden. This week, it was the Chinese Navy.

  ***

  All was quiet for two days, but then the Chinese dropped back and ceased their protection. Within an hour, the ship ahead spotted a Pirate Action Group (PAG) vessel. Through binoculars, Fadhil could see three skiffs escorting a wooden dhow.

  The pirates were on their way to intercept the lead ship. The warning foghorn could be heard from the head vessel.

  Atwah said, “This’ll delay us if they begin boarding that boat.”

  Suddenly, the pirates stopped and turned back. Fadhil lifted the binoculars to his eyes and said around his cigar, “The dhow has armed guards. The pirates won’t chance it. We’ll be able to stay on time and on course.”

  Atwah asked, “Are we going through the Suez?”

  Fadhil looked at Atwah and said, “Yes, but that’s all I can tell you.”

  “Do we have to provide anything special to the canal authorities to get through?”

  “I’ve already forwarded to the Cairo office our general arrangements plan, capacity plan, engine room plan and the notarized Suez canal special tonnage certificate. We should be all set to pass through.”

  Within the hour, they entered the Gulf of Suez, passed through the southern Suez Canal into Great Bitter Lake, through Timsah Lake into the northern Suez Canal, past Bur Said, and they then entered the Mediterranean. They turned west and passed by Port Said.

  Fadhil’s plan was to harbor in Alexandria.

  Once docked, Atwah asked, “Now that we’ve gotten through the Suez Canal, and have safely tied up in Alexandria, where to next? And how long will we be traveling?”

  “It’s going to take us ten to twelve days to travel from here to our destination,” Fadhil said.

  “Where’re we going?”

  Fadhil hesitated and then said, “Cassis, France. It’s about fourteen hundred miles from here. You need to make sure we have enough supplies for the trip. Talk to the captain, but don’t tell him where we’re going. Tell him how long we’ll be at sea but not where we’re going. Let him know that we’re picking up more passengers in Alexandria. When the time comes to head out, once we’ve left port, I’ll give him the coordinates.

  “When you’ve finished with the captain, take a few of the men with you and get the supplies and the girls, but tell them nothing.”

  Atwah spent some time with the captain plotting out a hypothetical scenario and creating a food-and-necessities supply list. He chose a number of men as he was instructed, took them ashore, and then returned to the boat with the supplies. He reported back to Fadhil.

  Fadhil said, “I told the captain we wanted a problem-free trip. When we’re near our destination, I’ll tell him that we need to go into the Calanque Port Miou, and that we want to weigh anchor just off shore so that we can take the dingy to the beach and sunbathe.”

  “What did you tell him about the cargo?” Atwah asked.

  “I told him that we’re carrying whiskey for friends and shoes for the stores in Paris.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Nothing except that maybe we could leave some whiskey for him. Make sure you leave a bottle with a real kick.”

  “It’s already marked.”

  “No contamination?”

  “None.”

  “What about the girls?” Fadhil asked.

  “We’ve been combing the streets near the University, flashing money and gold. We’ve recruited five so far.”

  “We need at least seven so that we look like a real pleasure cruise.”

  “We’ll have them.”

  “If when we’re about to leave and you haven’t them all, kidnap the remainder. We’ll keep them drugged and they’ll cooperate.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Virginia, U.S.A.

  On her drive from the District to Swan Nest Pond, Karen’s mind kept drifting back to her meeting with Carl Etheridge.

  Am I prostituting myself?

  Her own personal agenda caused her to agree to work for Homeland Security or for whatever agency the U.S. Government deemed necessary to capitalize on her talents.

  And that being the case, and if she became a covert-operations agent, Swan Nest Pond might not be the most secure residence. She looked down at her LCD screen. She still had the cable attached to her computer to thwart any remote attack on her Jaguar. All seemed to be functioning properly.

  Karen arrived home and drove along the dirt road, past the hidden shack in the woods, and parked in front of the cabin. The ducks scurried across the pond, and the swans feeding near the stream looked up.

  Karen disconnected her computer, got out of the car and walked to the cabin, unlocked the door, closed it, bolted it, and lit the burner on the stove beneath the copper kettle. Once the water was hot, she brewed a cup of chamomile tea and stood at the counter, staring out at the pond through the window and thinking about how her life was about to change.

  Tranquility will be difficult to attain once my new job begins.

  Her cellphone vibrated. She picked it up and looked at the caller ID. It was her sister.

  “I’ve been calling you for over an hour. It kept going to voicemail.”

  “I’m sorry, I turned off the volume.”

  “Were you flying?”

  “No, in a meeting.”

  “Are you really moving back into the house?”

  “I think so. I’m tired of the cabin.” She didn’t dare tell Sharon the real reason.

  “Okay, well, I told you I’m thinking of it, too. I’ll visit soon. But now I have to go. Love you.”

  Karen returned the sentiment, disconnected the phone, looked up at the beams in the living room ceiling, and then looked back out through the kitchen windows.

  Well, if there is someone watching me, it won’t be for long. They can’t watch me in the old family home.

  It was quiet except for the low buzz from the surveillance equipment. She frowned. She remembered the last voice she heard on the phone in the old family home in Middleburg.

  “Someone will be paying you a visit real soon.”

  If I had the senses then that I have now, I would have recognized the voice.

  The voyeur in the shack in the woods on the other side of the pond dialed his cellphone.

  “She’s going to leave the cabin and move to Middleburg.”

  “That’s her old childhood home. Super secure. We’ll have to find a way in.”

  “Why don’t I finish her off now?”

  “We need to find out what she’s up to first. We need to know what Homeland Security is planning along with all the other counterterrorist efforts planned by the U.S. Government. She may end up being an unknowingly, good and reliable source.”

  “Before, you wanted her to fly off the bridge.”

  “I was too anxious for her to die. I really want to kill her myself. I’ll let you know.”

  ***

  Alexandria, Egypt

  Atwah and Fadhil returned to their discussion about Karen.

  “Okay,” Fadhil said, “Refresh my memory about this Karen Krystal.”

  Atwah said, “She has a degree in architectural design and is a specialist in security systems. Additionally, since the Labyrinth, she’s been doing personal research to educate herself about terrorism, the terrorist mindset, studying terrorist organizations and how and why they, we, operate.

  “She was asked by the U.S. government to configure the Labyrinth security system, and so she’s spent the bulk of her time in Butler County, Pennsylvania.

  �
��She’s continued with her physical exercise routine, and according to our sources, her physique has become exceptionally strong and toned. Although 32-years old, she has the body of a 23-year-old.”

  “Let’s try to discover some weaknesses,” Fadhil said.

  ***

  Middleburg, Virginia

  Grandpa Buhr’s homing pigeons that used to sit in their cage alongside Karen’s lodge at Swan Nest Pond were now gone; and Shasta, her sister’s cat, was back with Sharon. There was nothing to keep Karen at the cabin.

  The drive to Middleburg took just under an hour. The fourteen-acre, Krystal family estate surrounded by a stone fence and large, iron gate sat vacant alongside John Mosby Highway in Middleburg, Virginia. Karen drove down the one-hundred-yard driveway, stopped in front of the stately mansion and stared at the front door.

  The last time she was there, she didn’t want to go in. There were too many sad memories: her mom dying, her dad murdered. But now, there was no reason to stay at the cabin. And the house was definitely more secure.

  No one had lived on the property since Karen’s mom died. But the memories of the home, the yard, the pool, the games, the discussions, and Aunt Edna, were still very real.

  Karen got out of the car and hesitated a few moments at the front door. She then unlocked it and stepped through. The alarm, warning tone sounded. She punched in the code.

  She remembered that the last time she was there; she was looking for a copy of the Labyrinth plans. She had circled through the dining room and back into the far side of the vestibule that extended beyond the atrium and to the pool. She had then climbed the stairs to the second and third floors.

  She walked into the kitchen and looked at the phone. Regardless of the sadness and bad memories, this had to be her home. She didn’t want to sell it. And leaving it vacant would only result in deterioration. No, she had to move in and make the best of it.

  Karen carried her two suitcases up the stairs. She set one on the floor in her old room and the other on the bed and opened it. She took out the Diary of Anne Frank and the English translation her father gave her on her sixteenth birthday and set them on the nightstand.

  She made several trips down to the car to completely unload the belongings she took from Swan Nest Pond. She spent a couple of hours arranging her room and the bathroom. When she finished, she decided to slip into her bathing suit and go down to the pool for a quick swim.

  She grabbed her stopwatch, set it on the coping, and walked down the steps into the water. The pool heater made the entrance more comfortable than when she had most recently eased herself into Swan Nest Pond. Although the house had been vacant, the pool service had continued.

  Karen took a couple of deep breaths and then a normal one, tripped the stopwatch, and took off down the length of the Olympic-sized pool. She raced back and forth until she had reached the 200 meter mark, burst out of the water and slapped the watch.

  After she caught her breath, she looked at her time.

  “I wouldn’t even qualify.”

  She slipped back into the water and began breathing deeper and deeper. After a few minutes, she jumped up, pressed the watch, and burst from the edge of the pool once again.

  She tried to remember what her coach had taught her: “Smooth deep digs into the water. Breathe every four strokes. Use your whole body. Our times would be better with short hair and nothing on us to drag down our time.”

  Again, after 200 meters, she exploded out of the water and hit the stopwatch.

  She looked at her time. “Better, but still no Olympics this year.”

  She dried off and went into the kitchen to check the cupboards. She settled on a can of soup. While it was warming up, the phone rang. She looked at the ID. It was from an undisclosed location. Reluctantly, she answered it.

  “Feel like you’re being watched?” the voice said and hung up.

  Karen’s heart began to pound and her face became hot.

  “What the hell was that all about?”

  She looked at the receiver and then let it fall onto the carriage.

  She set a pot holder on the chopping-block counter, placed the pot of soup atop it, plopped onto a stool and began to eat her meal. During her repast, she thought about the mystery voice on the phone. It sounded familiar. It sounded like Brandon Harper, her old assistant at Krystal Vision and RL2.

  But how was that possible, he was dead? Maybe he had a brother. Siblings sound alike, sometimes.

  So, who knew she would be at the house, and who knew the number, it was unlisted? Only Sharon, Aunt Edna and probably Homeland Security, or maybe one of the owners of RL2 who bought her father’s company, Krystal Vision. Those were the only people who knew the phone number of her Middleburg home.

  She finished her soup, decided to take a shower, and read until she was too tired to keep her eyes open. She walked to the library and grabbed a book she had not yet opened. She set the house alarm and then walked upstairs to her old room. She swung open the closet door. A full wardrobe was hanging in organized fashion including matching shoes.

  She turned and crawled into bed, leaving her nightgown to hang over the wingchair. The satin sheets caused her to shiver. With the remote, she turned on the ceiling fan to its lowest setting just to keep the air moving and pulled the covers up to under her chin.

  She opened the book, and within minutes she was sleeping.

  Out on the highway, a lone car was parked on the side of the road. A match came to life, and then the tip of a cigarette glowed bright red.

  ***

  In the morning, Karen dressed and pulled out of the driveway to travel into town to purchase some groceries. She had never shopped for food to fill the refrigerator and cupboards while she lived home. It was either done by her mom or Aunt Edna.

  She sped along the highway in her Jaguar convertible.

  Three cars back, a man spoke on his cellphone, “She’s alone. I could pull alongside and get rid of her.”

  “No, follow her, but don’t do anything, yet.”

  Karen turned into the parking lot of the local market and went into the store. Just beyond the door, she felt something, stopped, turned around, and looked outside. She spotted a man in a car reading a newspaper. Maybe he was waiting for a shopper. Or maybe he was waiting for her. She slowly turned away and grabbed a cart.

  The store had changed since she had been there last. It took her time to find all that she needed.

  No one identified her. Nor did she recognize anyone. She liked being anonymous. She paid with cash, and as she set the groceries into the trunk of the car, she looked for the man reading the paper.

  He was gone.

  Karen headed for home.

  A tailing car followed at a safe distance.

  Karen kept looking in her rearview and side mirrors. She knew she was being watched. Was it government or someone else?

  She was becoming more sensitive to her surroundings.

  ***

  Last week, Karen changed her mailing address from the PO Box when she lived at Swan Nest Pond to the family home address.

  She stopped her car just as she passed through the estate’s security fence, got out and checked the locked mailbox next to the iron gate. She retrieved the correspondence, got back into her Jaguar, set the envelopes on the passenger’s seat, pressed the security app on her phone to close the gate, and drove into the four-car garage.

  She carried the grocery bags and mail into the kitchen, reset the house alarm for “Stay” that activated all the doors and windows but bypassed the motion detectors throughout the mansion, and then put the food away into the freezer, the refrigerator, and the pantry. She then poured herself a glass of wine and sat down at the counter to look through the letters.

  There was the normal junk mail, an auto registration renewal notice for her father’s car, and a plain white envelop with no return address. It had not been forwarded from Swan Nest. It was addressed to Karen Krystal at the family home address with a postmark of F
alls Church, Virginia.

  She had just moved home.

  How could anyone know I was here?

  She held the envelope up so the light coming through the kitchen window revealed that there were maybe one or two sheets of paper inside. She then lifted the envelope to her nose.

  “I know this smell,” she said. She recited from memory, “Syrian Cheese, a simple, immature cheese made from fresh curd. Delicately flavored but not bland. Slightly chewy in texture with a faint scent of freshly pressed curd.”

  My assistant, Brandon, used to eat it all the time. This must be from someone he knew. Someone involved with the Labyrinth.

  She took the letter opener and cautiously ripped open the mailer, being careful not to cut through the folded paper within. Once the envelope was opened, she spread it apart and carefully inserted her nose.

  “Damn, it’s that cheese all right.”

  She carefully lifted the letter out and unfolded it. It was a single plain white 8½ x 11 sheet of paper. Karen read the title and gasped. She then read the entire message. She read it three times and then picked up the phone. She dialed Carl Etheridge at Homeland Security. She was careful to only touch the letter in one place in case there were retrievable fingerprints.

  “Etheridge.”

  “I’ve received a terrorist communication,” Karen said.

  “What makes you suspect it’s from a terrorist?”

  “I don’t want to discuss the contents on the phone.”

  “Can you send it to me?”

  “Do you want it email or fax?”

  “Fax.”

  Karen stayed on the line and walked to the second floor office and sent it.

  It arrived almost instantaneously. Etheridge pulled it out of the paper tray and studied the drawing of the globe emphasizing the Middle East and Africa with a sword through the sphere. On the emblem was printed: Military Studies in the Jihad Against the Tyrants.

  “Let me call you back, I want to study this,” Etheridge said and hung up. He continued to read.

  DECLARATION OF JIHAD AGAINST THE COUNTRY’S TYRANTS MILITARY SERIES

  Pledge, O Sister