Only when she told stories of her life as the wife of a US senator did the Algerian show the slightest impatience, and his temper would almost imperceptibly flare.
If she mentioned her hurt and anger at her husband, he’d remind her that personal and spiritual growth outweighed any discomfort from her challenges.Be a dutiful wife,he urged her.
As their relationship grew stronger, Elise Courville would lie awake at night contemplating the Algerian’s latest advice. She didn’t agree with everything he said, but she couldn’t dispute its logic.
When Coleman Harrison decided to run for president, the man in Paris told her what she must do.
At first she wasn’t sure she could go through with it. But night after night, as she listened to his persuasive voice on the phone, Courville slowly came to terms with the reality he presented.
Every week she received a new cell phone. It was used to communicate only with him. He assured her that it could never be traced, that she would be safe from any repercussions. As each new package arrived, she destroyed the old phone and separately trashed its broken parts.
Courville trusted the man more than she had trusted anyone in her life.So long as you follow my instructions and we finish the plan,he promised her,our lives will be complete.He considered her one of his most faithful, he told her, and promised that he would lead her to glory in Paris, where they could continue their journey together. Allah would welcome her.
She looked forward to the day when she could be with him in Paris.
Now Elise Courville stood on her balcony and watched the late-afternoon sun descending. Almost every day at this time, she would sit on this very balcony and warm her body in the rays of light.
She looked at the people on the lawn of the house not far away. The owners seemed nice enough. They lived mainly in Florida, where he was a banker of some kind and had a son in college. In their years as neighbors, they had exchanged pleasantries every so often.
She could see a group gathered, obviously enjoying the company of weekend guests. They all looked so happy—so oblivious to the troubles of the world.
She dreamed of the future in Paris, when she could invite the new friends she would make to a party just like theirs.
CHAPTER 33
Steamship Authority Ferry Docks
Hyannis, Massachusetts
He answered to the name of David, but that was not his real name.
The man in Paris had sent him here to do a mission. David knew there were others, but he had never met any of them. Tonight that would change.
He had been living in Boston for the past twelve months, secretly rehearsing for this very night. He had repeatedly made the trip across the water, traveling on every boat that the company used to transport passengers to and from Nantucket. He knew every dimension, every function, of every vessel.
This evening, he would ride across on theEagle. The oldest of the ferry fleet was also the easiest target.
David had proven himself useful many times before, yet in the thirty years he had lived, he had never felt as needed as hedid tonight. The man in Paris demanded perfection, and David assured him that by Allah’s grace, it would be.
Chechen by birth, David had a talent for destruction. He was a bomb maker who could fashion the most unremarkable everyday items into projectiles that could kill or maim, depending on how he adjusted the formula.
Tonight he had only one job to do: sink the Hyannis ferry before it made its way into Nantucket Harbor.
David guided the U-Haul truck gingerly across the ferry ramp and found a parking spot beneath the passenger berths. The guards at the security checkpoint never looked inside the cargo compartment. If they did, however, they would have discovered nothing more than antique furniture, expertly packed to avoid damage in transit across Nantucket Sound.
Twenty minutes later, the last of fifty vehicles was loaded onto the ferry. TheEagle’s captain eased the throttles open and began the twenty-six-mile journey from Hyannis to Nantucket. The ride would last a little under two and a half hours.
David checked his watch. He had ninety minutes to wait.
He allowed himself to dream of his next assignment. When this job was complete and he had proven his worth, his reward would be great. He would join the others back across the ocean for the next wave of the battle against the Great Satan. Perhaps he would be chosen to plan a new attack against the infidels.
CHAPTER 34
At 9:45 p.m., David casually walked belowdecks to his U-Haul. No other passengers were around. The sun had long set, and the dim lighting in the vehicle berths bolstered David’s confidence as he made his way to the rear of the truck. He slid open the roll-up door and climbed into the cargo area to survey his masterpiece.
In a most diabolical fashion, he had designed this particular bomb by applying the simple laws of physics to create an indefensible projectile.
He had custom-made a series of copper plates—each one about an inch thick and a foot in diameter—and installed them in the truck. Ignition of the almost 1,000 pounds of Semtex packed inside the furniture would propel the plates with such force, energy, and heat that the metal would, in a nanosecond, transform from solid to liquid and melt its way through whatever was in its path.
