Lance dressed in a dark gray suit, white shirt, and dark green tie to meet with Quadir instead of his usual Army uniform. I need to intimidate this guy, not scare him away, he thought as he picked out his clothes. He toyed with his dark sunglasses but decided it would be too cloak-and-dagger. Lance didn’t want to be thought of as a cliché.
Quadir arrived early and sat at a table facing the door. Lance was fashionably late to reinforce the fact he was the one in charge. It worked. Lance strode into the small restaurant, took it in with one glance, and walked directly over to Quadir.
“Hello Mr. Akram,” Lance said with a smile, “I’m Lance. May I sit down?” Quadir motioned for him to sit.
“You have no fear of sitting with your back to the door, Mr. Lance,” Quadir said nervously. “You must have other people stationed inside and outside of this restaurant. You are a man of power, but yet you talk to me. Why?”
Lance opened a zippered leather folio and produced a dozen photos, face down. “I’ll get right to the point, Quadir,” he said, casually flipping one photo over at a time until the four photos were sitting exposed in front of Quadir. “Do you know these people?”
Quadir’s heart almost leaped out through his throat at the same time as raw fear and panic constricted his chest. His mind and eyes blurred from data and implication overload. Unrestrained tears flowed down his cheeks. He looked at the recently taken photos of his family. Quadir’s mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. He was numb as he stared at the pictures.
Lance smiled. “I see you know them.” Quadir continued to flail, but his speech was slowly returning. “How? What?” was all he could get out in a guttural utterance. More gesturing towards the photos.
We have our man. This will be easy. Lance could see the general stars on his shoulders.
“How do you have photos of my family? Where did you get them? How are they? Are they safe? Who are you, Mr. Lance?”
“I’m a friend, and you need one right now.” Lance continued, “I can help get your family over here for you if you really want them.”
Quadir stuttered, “What! Do I really want them to come to the U.S.? Of course, I do! I would do anything to get them here, but you must already know, or we would not be having this meeting. What would it take to get my family here?”
“Glad you asked, Mr. Akram. You see, we know what your political affiliations are in Syria, and we are on your side, but there is a problem we would like you to help us with.”
“Yes, certainly. Whatever you would like if it helps get my wife and children here with me. What must I do for them to be saved?”
Lance smiled. It had been many years since he heard that phrase. Grandma and Grandpa Coopers told me I should think about how the words applied to myself and to my soul. I loved them, but they sure were ‘Jesus freaks’ and didn’t really understand how life worked, I miss them, though.
Lance smiled and began spinning the tale. “You see, Quadir, I’m part of an agency that supports your people. You know your enemies are getting funding and weapons from outside sources. Everyone knows it. They are deadly, but without outside help, they can do nothing more than pull off small acts of terrorism. They can’t engage in the current scope of warfare they are doing against the people you hold dear without that help. You also know they are funded by multiple people and organizations. This is where the fight is. We need to move against the money people, one at a time, and eliminate them. Our people have identified some leaders of the groups funding your family’s enemies. We would like your help in fixing this problem.”
“What do you mean by ‘fix,’ and why don’t you do it yourself? You speak like you have the resources, why do you need me?” Quadir replied with suspicion evident in his voice.
“Good question, Quadir. Good question. The simple answer is, we could do everything we need to do without you. It would be no major issue, but that would only solve one tiny part of the problem while possibly involving other government agencies. Some of these enemies are American citizens. It could make quite a stink for the government if it became known we moved against our own citizens. Instead, what if we could strike a blow for Syrian freedom, bring your family over to the States, and raise public opposition against terrorist sympathizers? What would you think about such a plan, Quadir? Would it be a cause you could support? Would you like to have a meaningful part in your country’s destiny?”
“Of course I would,” Quadir almost shouted. “My country has been ravaged by these animals, our cultural history and heritage have been nearly destroyed, they have killed my friends, my family is in mortal danger every moment of every day, and it keeps getting worse. I will do whatever I can to strike a blow against these people.”
Quadir’s strong response almost surprised Lance. Wow, I thought it would be harder than this. Let me wrap this fish up. “So, you are with us?”
“Yes, I am. Again, what is it you want me to do?”
“One thing at a time, Quadir. First, let me tell you what we will do for you. If you agree to take your assignment, then within one month after you do your part, your family will come legally into the United States. We will give them a place to stay. They will receive financial aid for a time from groups helping to settle new refugees. Your children will go to school, and your entire family will receive tutoring at night in English. Sound good so far?”
“Yes, indeed, Mr. Lance. It sounds like the miracle we have been praying for. What is it you want me to do? Who do I have to kill to have this happen,” Quadir said, thinking he was only using an expression.
Lance did not return the smile, only a malevolent, hardened look. Quadir’s blood suddenly ran cold.
“You want me to kill someone?” he stammered, “I can’t do that! It’s not right.”
“Okay, no problem, Mr. Akram. Thank you for your time, anyhow. Sorry to have bothered you. Have a good day.” Lance began to stand.
Quadir almost leaped out of his skin as he saw his family dreams abruptly disappear before his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Yes, I will do whatever you want! Please, please do not leave. I will do it. I will do it. Don’t leave.”
Lance sat back down.
Quadir collapsed into his seat with relief, shortness of breath, and a pounding heart. He hung his head. “What exactly do I have to do?”
“It’s simple, we will set everything up, and you will shoot the person who is supplying your enemy with their money. That’s all there is to it.”
“Shoot them!” Quadir almost shouted, “Shoot them?” he repeated. “And then the police will shoot me! What good will I do for my family if I am dead?”
We will keep you alive. The shooting will take place in a very public venue. You will then lay your rifle down and be taken captive. The police will not hurt you if you surrender. There are too many cell phone cameras, and the police do not want to be photographed gunning down someone who is surrendering to them with their hands in the air. They will take you alive.”
“But what if they shoot me before I can surrender?”
“They won’t. Plus, we have ways of getting you out of any legal trouble you may have.”
“Who is it I must shoot?”
Lance opened an envelope and slid a photo across the small table to Quadir. It contains a picture of a beautiful lady with wavy blonde hair and green eyes. Quadir gave a low whistle. “She’s beautiful. How can such a person be dangerous?” he asked?
“Quadir, every beautiful woman is not a saint, and everyone who smiles is not always your friend,” said Lance with a friendly smile. “We will talk more, Quadir. I have to go now.” Lance nodded, stood, and walked out the door.
Quadir continued to stare at his departing figure with the oil and water mixture of elation and dread. “What am I about to do?” he said to no one in particular.