Merging Destiny

  Chapter 5

  Revelations

  Pakistan – Fall 1996

  Osama bin Laden stared from the open window, his thoughts far away, to that time when life had been simple, when Allah had blessed him with endless days of childhood pleasure. Now, the reality of adulthood having blunted those memories forever, his mind shifted back to his immediate problems, many of which were related to money. Suddenly, a quiet knock came at the door, followed by a muffled voice announcing, “Sir, our distinguished visitor has arrived. Shall I show him in?”

  “Yes, of course,” bin Laden responded affably and, rising to greet his guest, he awaited his arrival.

  Momentarily, a tall gaunt-looking elderly gentleman appeared, garbed in elegant traditional Arabic attire, his red and white shemagh flowing over his kaftan. Reaching forward, he said in perfect Arabic, “It is a great honor to meet you, Sheikh bin Laden!”

  Taking the man in the traditional Arab greeting, bin Laden responded, “The honor is mine. They tell me you are also from Saudi, Mr. Al-Khoury.”

  “Yes, of course.,” Al-Khoury responded.

  At this bin Laden squinted and suggested, “But do I detect an ever so slight accent?”

  “Ah, there is no fooling you, sir!” the visitor replied, “I was actually raised in Egypt, far down the Nile, in Aswan.”

  “Ah, Aswan! I’ve actually been there once – a lovely city, if I may say.”

  “Yes, I do miss it. I actually left there when I was fourteen, when my family moved to Addis Abbaba. That of course explains the accent, but more – it will explain why my family is not known to you, sir.”

  “Ah, I see now. I confess that the mystery did concern me, Mr. Al-Khoury. But now that I meet you, I can see that we are brothers, brothers in the fight for freedom of our people against the depraved repression of the West.”

  “Well said, Sheikh bin Laden, well said,” the visitor responded, his words accentuated by a graceful bow.

  “And how may I be of help to you, dear brother?” bin Laden inquired piously.

  “Ah, yes! Perhaps you can help, and perhaps in turn I can be of service to you, sir.”

  “Would that it could be,” bin Laden responded.

  “Oh, I assure you, sir, it can, as I am in fact here to offer support to you. And by support, I assume that you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, of course. Exactly how much are we talking about?”

  “I am prepared to invest up to one billion U.S. dollars over the next five years, subject of course to my approval.”

  At this bin Laden’s face lit up, prompting him to respond politely, “That sounds acceptable. I am quite sure that we can come to an equable arrangement, Mr. Al-Khoury.”

  Washington, D.C. – December, 1996

  Elspeth picked up the telephone and dialed the number. Detecting a voice on the other end, she said, “Gran? It’s me – Elspeth.” Hearing a question from the other end, she responded, “No, there’s still nothing to report. It seems that, despite completing my studies at Imperial College with high honors, employment opportunities in the U.S. are few and far between. But listen - I’ve been thinking - I may have a solution.” After a short response from the other end, she replied, “No, I’d rather not say at the moment. But I’ll let you know within the week.” After a further pause, she said, “Okay, Gran. I’ll talk to you soon. I love you. Bye.”

  Placing the phone receiver back in its cradle, she took a long drag on her coffee. It was time to play her ace in the hole. Accordingly, she headed for the shower, her preparations already underway in her mind’s eye.

  Two hours later she pushed her way into the Enlistment Center in downtown Washington. Spotting a single Army Sergeant seated behind a desk, she wandered over and offered, “Good morning, sir, I’m interested in the possibility of enlisting.”

  Eyeing her carefully, he responded, “It’s Sergeant, not sir, miss…Sergeant Jackson, if you will. And who might I be speaking to?”

  “My name is Elspeth, Elspeth Moorehead,” she blurted and, shoving one hand forward, she suggested, “Pleased to meet you.”

  Taking her hand in return, he rose from his seat and motioned for her to have a seat opposite. He then reseated himself and inquired, “Sooo, what brings you to the doorstep of the United States Army, Miss Moorehead?”

  “I’m interested in defending the United States of America, Sergeant Jackson.”

  “Ha, I can see you’ve rehearsed, Miss Moorehead,” he observed pleasantly, but his visage turning to one of doubt, he suggested, “But let’s cut to the chase – the army is a hard life. Do you think you’re up to such a challenge?”

  “I certainly think so,” she responded, but it was clear that she didn’t.

  “Well then, could you be more specific?”

  “Okay, sure. I have a degree in Mathematics from Harvard University, and I also obtained a Master’s degree at Imperial College in London. Oh, and I speak Arabic – fluently.”

  “Hmmm, impressive to say the least, Miss Moorehead. However, that doesn’t quite answer my question, so let me rephrase it – what is it about the Army that makes you want to be a soldier?”

  “Uhm, okay – fair question. Well, let me see…I may as well tell you – my parents were both killed in the Lockerbie bombing, and I’ve felt the need to be somehow involved in the fight for freedom ever since.”

  “My, I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Moorehead. So let me get this straight – are you saying that you want retribution for their murders?”

  “No, that’s not it. I just want to be involved in helping to ensure that others in this country don’t suffer the same fate.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere, Miss Moorehead. You’d be surprised how few people walk into this office with a good reason for joining the U.S. Army. However, in your case, despite your laudable intentions, I’m not certain it would be the best thing for you to do.”

  “Why do you say that, Sergeant?”

  “Well, truth is – with your education, you’re grossly over-qualified to be a soldier in the Army.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, truth is – it’s a whole lot of grunt work. Believe me, I know.”

  “Ok-kay…”

  “Listen, I have another idea, Miss Moorehead.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “Well, I did a hitch at the DIA, and they’re always looking for folks with your qualifications.”

  “The DIA…what the heck is that?”

  “The Defense Intelligence Agency.”

  “Oh. Is that anything like the CIA? Because if it is, I already tried that, and they weren’t interested.”

  “Naw, it’s not like the CIA at all. They’re looking mostly for spies. The DIA takes all sorts. And believe me – they are desperately in need of people with mathematical skills.”

  “Alright, it sounds like something I might be interested in. So can you suggest how I might proceed in order to pursue such a possibility?”

  “It just so happens I can. As I said, I did a hitch at the DIA a few years back, and I know a couple of people working there.”

  “Are they here in Washington?”

  “Of course. The headquarters of the DIA are in Washington. Look, why don’t you give me your phone number and I’ll do a bit of checking for you. I’ll phone you when I have something concrete.”

  “Wow! That would be great!”

  So that is how it all started for Elspeth. Sergeant Jackson apparently knew the right people, because he telephoned her that very afternoon, and the following afternoon she interviewed at Bolling Air Force Base. A week later she was offered a position with the DIA, and she began work three days later.

  Bolling AFB, Washington - February 18, 1997

  Elspeth entered the conference room just as her boss, Roger Preston, arrived. The others in the room all remained silent, a general sense of what was about to occur well understood by all.

  Roger tos
sed a stack of papers on the table and announced bluntly, “Well, here is what we know at the moment, ladies and gentlemen. The bomb was set off in the basement of the Lido Hotel in Las Vegas at approximately 2:38 Mountain Time yesterday afternoon. Although the resulting explosion was apparently quite massive, there were only three casualties, one of whom was killed by the blast. Although the explosion was indeed enormous, it was set off well away from the populated portion of the hotel, which doubtless minimized the damage and loss of life. At this moment in time no terrorist organization has taken responsibility for the bombing, and until they do we have no way of knowing who is responsible.

  “What we do know is that a woman wearing a full burka walked into the lobby of the building less than five minutes before the bomb exploded and made her way to the stairs, thereby suggesting that it may have been Al Qaeda or Hezbollah behind the bombing. Any questions thus far?”

  At this point Elspeth immediately raised her hand and inquired, “Any idea what happened to the woman, sir?”

  “Yes and no. She was not among those injured, and surveillance cameras show her departing the building just after the bomb was detonated, but we have no idea where she is at this moment. Any other questions? None?

  “Ladies and gentlemen, because of military activities at Yucca Mountain, we’ve been activated by the FBI to participate in the investigation. Alright, Thompson, you concentrate on locating the missing bomber. Elspeth, look into the attendees at the Lido. We need to know what sort of connection the bombing may have with the specific site of the bombing. The rest of you check on your sources and see what’s hot. Specifically, look for a connection to the military. Now everyone - get to work!” And with that the room emptied rapidly, as workers hurried to carry out their assigned tasks.

  Elspeth worked late that night, and by midnight she had made a strange discovery. Picking up the phone, she dialed a number and said, “I would like to speak with Mrs. Stewart. She is in room 1412.”

  She waited a few moments, and then she heard a voice say, “Hello?”

  “Gran, it’s Elspeth. Are you alright?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, but it’s been a hell of a mess here the last two days.”

  “I’ll just bet it has. What are you doing in Las Vegas, anyway?”

  “It’s a long story, Elspeth…”

  “Humor me, Gran!”

  “I really don’t think I’m up to it, El.”

  “Listen, Gran, this is not a social call, understand?”

  “Oh, my…oh, I believe I do understand – you’re investigating the bombing, right?”

  “You got it. Now, what the heck are you doing staying in a hotel in Vegas that was just bombed by terrorists?”

  “Well, as I said, it’s a long story. You see, once upon a time I was a chorus girl…”

  “What - you were stripper in Las Vegas?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that, Elspeth. I never worked in Vegas, and I wasn’t a stripper. However, I was a Radio City Rockette during the war, dear.”

  “Wow! I never knew that! You must have been quite the catch, Gran!”

  “I seriously doubt that, El, but anyway, I had a friend when I was in New York. Her name was Faye – Faye Williams. Faye couldn’t make it as a Rockette, so after the war she decided to hoof it out to Vegas. That was just when things were starting up in Vegas, and she hit pay dirt. She’s been here ever since.”

  “Okay, that’s all very interesting, but I fail to see what that has to do with anything…”

  “Right. Well, Faye is retired now, but she invited me to a showgirls’ reunion in Vegas, and it’s being held here at the Lido. I came, not really for old time’s sake, but in reality to see Faye. I hadn’t seen her for many years, you know. So that’s why I’m here in Vegas – for a showgirls’ reunion.”

  “Interesting,” Elspeth responded, “Hmmm, how many showgirls showed up?”

  “Oh, quite a few, something like three hundred.”

  “Wow! They must fill up half the hotel. They only have five hundred rooms at the Lido.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty packed with old broads like me at the moment. And the bombing didn’t make things easy, but they’re all having quite a good time anyway. As a matter of fact, I’m about to go out with Faye and some other girls to see one of those modern strip shows.”

  “Oh, God, Gran, I could have done without being told that!”

  “Yeah, well, someday you’ll understand, Elspeth. Life is short, you know…”

  “Right. Thanks for the info, Gran. Have a rip-roaring good time. Bye…”

  “Bye, Elspeth,” and with that the line went dead, leaving Elspeth to ponder what in heaven’s name a terrorist bombing had to with a reunion in Las Vegas for former showgirls.

  Bolling AFB – Two Months Later

  Elspeth knocked on the office door and, hearing a sound emanate from within, she pushed it open, saying, “You asked for me, Roger?”

  “Yes, indeed I did, Elspeth. Please come in, and have a seat,” and as she complied, he offered, “Well, it looks like we’re done with the Lido case.”

  “I figured as much,” she responded.

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, neither the FBI nor the CIA could make heads or tails of it either. The whole episode smells of something quite nasty, if you ask me.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, sir,” Elspeth responded, “First, we find out that this smarmy character Kareem Al-Wadi accidentally gets his eye knocked out the very night of the Lido bombing, and not three miles from the site of the bombing. Then we find out that Al-Wadi is searching all over the country for some woman, a woman we believe to be the selfsame one that walked into the Lido and planted the bomb. We trace her to Dallas, Texas, but from there the trail grows cold, very cold indeed. Meantime, it develops that Al-Wadi, who is from Kuwait, has business connections with some character from Saudi Arabia named Abdullah Al-Khoury. And now for the coup de grace, it seems that Al-Khoury is absolutely filthy stinking rich!”

  “Yeah, I can’t make any sense of it whatsoever, Elspeth.”

  “Nor can anyone else, sir.”

  “Do you suppose Al-Wadi just wanted to kill off a bunch of has-been strippers?”

  “Ha,” Elspeth responded nervously, “I did think about that, sir. But my Grandmother swears she never even heard of the guy. And when she asked around, none of the other ladies had heard of him either.”

  “It’s just plain bizarre…” Roger opined and, peering at one fingernail, he suggested, “Well shut it down, Elspeth. We have to move on to other more important issues. But – tell you what – keep it in the back of your mind. These things have a way of eventually sorting themselves out, you know.”

  “Yes, sir, will do,” Elspeth responded and, sensing that she had been dismissed, she rose and made her exit from his office.

  Bolling AFB – Summer, 1998

  Elspeth had by now been working for months on a chain of circumstantial evidence that seemed to lead to nowhere. Of course, due to the large volume of other duties, she was only able to spend a small portion of her time on the Las Vegas bombing. The woman who had bombed the Lido Hotel was still at large, but she had turned out not to be Middle Eastern at all. Instead, she had been a student at Nebraska State University who had apparently been kidnapped by Al-Wadi’s henchmen explicitly for the purpose of carrying out the bombing.

  It was all just too bizarre. Terrorist attacks on U.S. soil were rare but, as in the case of the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995, the terrorists’ motives seemed to always emerge sooner or later. In the case of the Lido bombing, none whatsoever had been determined to date. And although Elspeth had questioned her grandmother further on her arrival back home, there seemed to be no connection whatsoever between the bombing and the strippers’ reunion.

  A hotel camera had caught the Lido bomber on film, and though she had been garbed within a full burka, her eyes had been visible in the film footage. Her eyes ha
d been green, which is how they were able to ascertain her identity – Patience Walker. She had apparently escaped and found her way to Dallas, Texas, where she had disappeared completely from the face of the earth. Elspeth was by now certain that this woman was on the run, from whom or what remained to be seen.

  For some reason, Elspeth kept returning to that film, obsessively viewing the footage, and each time she was captivated by those green eyes. Then one day it came to her – the reason why she’d kept returning to those eyes was simple – she’d had three friends at Harvard, all with pale blue eyes that were identical to one another.

  She’d never actually thought about it before, it having somehow escaped her recognition, but Connor, Anna and Farhan had all three shared identical sets of eyes. Was this a coincidence? She did a bit of research, and it turned out that pale blue eyes are quite unusual in certain parts of the world. They are in fact a genetic mutation, all humans apparently having had brown eyes at one point in time. Although the mutation appears to have occurred sometime in the distant past somewhere near the Black Sea, most of the pale blue-eyed people in the world are from Northern Europe. The further one is born from that region, the less likely are pale blue eyes.

  Elspeth thought about this for a few moments. It was apparent that Connor’s blue eyes were not particularly unusual, but pale blue eyes are quite unusual in the Middle East. In Egypt, less than one in ten thousand people have pale blue eyes. So what is the probability of two people from Egypt with pale blue eyes randomly showing up in Boston, Massachusetts? Elspeth suspected the odds were extremely low, and the probability that they would befriend a Scotsman with the same blue eyes was even lower. Something about her college years, especially the friendship the four of them had formed, had always seemed a strange coincidence to her. Now she began to wonder whether there had been something she hadn’t known about. As a result, she resolved to explore the subject further when time permitted.

  Washington – Fall 1998

  Elspeth experienced one of those rare weekends when her workload had slacked off, and that, combined with the gorgeous fall weather, gave her the opportunity to meet up with her grandmother. She met her at Reagan Airport, and that night they decided to have dinner together in a nice restaurant. They chose a place called Morton’s.

  Arriving at the restaurant, Sabrina observed, “This is quite a nice restaurant, Elspeth. What made you choose it?”

  “Oh, nothing special. I checked around, and when someone recommended Morton’s I bit immediately.”

  “I’m not sure I understand. Exactly what made you choose this restaurant?”

  “Oh, well…you’ve probably forgotten – I had a friend in college named Anna Morton. So I picked it for spurious reasons – call it nostalgia.”

  “Oh, yes, now I recall. She was the one with the strange name, the one from Egypt, right?”

  “Right, but what do you mean by strange name, Gran?”

  “Oh, I suppose the name Anna Morton isn’t unusual, but it certainly is for someone from Egypt, my dear.”

  Staring at her grandmother in amazement, she suddenly realized, “Oh, my goodness, it somehow escaped me. I never thought about it before. I do recall that she told me her father was English, but I’d never attempted to piece it all together before, at least – not till now.”

  “Goodness, what on earth you are blabbing about, El?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just that, well, I had three close friends in college, and all three of them had pale blue eyes.”

  “So? What’s so odd about that?”

  “First of all, two of them were from Egypt. And, to make it even stranger, their eyes were all exactly the same pale blue hue. I mean, it was somehow creepy to look at the three of them, Gran. It was like looking at triplets.”

  “Hmmm…what are the odds of that?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but I did a bit of research on it, and if you must know, the odds are extremely low.”

  “Really? Are you telling me it wasn’t a coincidence – that your three friends came together at Harvard for some ulterior reason?”

  “No! I wasn’t suggesting that at all, Gran. It’s just that, well…I suppose this is all ridiculous,” and, tugging at her hair self-consciously, she observed, “I’m afraid my sleuthing job has got the better of me.”

  “Boy, I’ll say!” her grandmother blurted, “You can’t fool me, Elspeth. I know exactly what this is all about.”

  “Oh? And what might that be?”

  “It’s about that guy – Connor!”

  “Oh, come on, Gran, Connor Stuart and I are ancient history!”

  “My dear, I can personally attest to this – there is no fixed expiration date on love.”

  “Love! Who said anything about that?”

  “Ha! I myself denied it for half a lifetime. And had your grandfather, bless his memory, not persisted - my life would have been a complete loss.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that!”

  “There is quite a lot you don’t know, my dear.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, that’s all in the past. As for the future, I say get on with it.”

  “Get on with what?”

  “With Connor!”

  “With Connor! Gran, there is nothing to get on with – nothing whatsoever.”

  “Why do you say that, Elspeth? Is there something you haven’t told me?”

  Elspeth eyed her grandmother for a moment and, deciding it was time to fill in some of the blanks, she inquired, “Gran, tell me more about my grandfather, James Moorehead.”

  “What!” she exclaimed irritably, “Don’t change the subject, Elspeth!”

  “Actually, I’m not changing the subject at all, Gran,” she responded matter-of-factly.

  Her visage turning stormy, Gran responded, “What has your grandfather got to do with Connor Stuart?”

  “Just answer the question, Gran.”

  “Alright, if you must know, James Moorehead and my dear departed husband Sloan were colleagues at Harvard.”

  “You already told me that,” Elspeth replied impatiently, “Tell me about the part that happened later.”

  “Later, what do you mean, my dear?”

  “When Dr. Moorehead was dismissed as president of Harvard.”

  “Oh, that. I had hoped I’d never have to relive that. Can’t we just let bygones be bygones?”

  “You forget, Gran – I’m a spy - and a damn good one at that.”

  “Yes, I’m quite sure you are, Elspeth, but what has that got to do with James Moorehead being dismissed from Harvard thirty years ago?”

  “He was dismissed in 1968. What happened to him after that?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t follow you, my dear.”

  “Oh, cut it out, Gran! Just tell me.”

  “Alright, if you must know - he disappeared - never to be heard from again.”

  “Right, but before that he and your husband had some sort of falling out, didn’t they!”

  “I suppose I may as well admit it – yes, they did.”

  “What was it about, Gran?”

  “It doesn’t matter, it’s all over and done with, my dear.”

  “Well, that may be, but there is more to the story, more than even you know, Gran.”

  Sabrina stared at her a moment in disbelief, and then she suggested, “Alright, you think you know so much, I’ll bite.”

  “I have been able to determine beyond a shadow of a doubt that James Moorehead lived for a time in Edinburgh, Scotland sometime around 1970. I need not tell you, Gran, that was two years after he was dismissed from Harvard.”

  “So? I am aware that he was still alive for a period of time. What of it?”

  “Gran, brace yourself – James Moorehead fathered Connor Stuart!”

  Grabbing her throat in horror, Sabrina exclaimed, “What! That’s impossible!”

  “Nope. Not impossible, Gran. I have proof of it. Conno
r Stuart is in fact my own uncle, sired by my grandfather, a man that you once knew only too well.”

  “My God, this cannot be true!” Sabrina gasped, “That bastard! Dead in his grave all these years, and damn if he doesn’t rise up and strike me from the grave! God, I despised that man, and it seems that I still do!”

  Elspeth eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then opined, “So I take it there is more to this story, eh Gran?”

  “My dear, there are always details that parents do not pass on to their offspring, memories better left dead.”

  “Yes, well, it seems there are a few skeletons in our family closet, if I may be so bold.”

  “Yes, perhaps, but take it from me, dear – you’ve uncovered the only one, one that is better left dead, and for all time.”

  “Do you mean that he is dead then?”

  “You mean James Moorehead?”

  “Certainly!”

  “Yes of course he is, my dear.”

  “And how do you know that, Gran?”

  “Because your grandfather Sloan Stewart killed him, that’s how I know.”

  Her eyes growing wide in utter shock, Elspeth gasped, “What, you mean one of my grandfathers murdered the other?”

  Her face turning pale, Sabrina responded, “I didn’t say that…although Sloan did tell me that he killed James. I’m quite certain it was self-defense, and it must’ve occurred sometime in 1970, while Sloan was in Egypt.”

  Frowning in confusion, Elspeth glanced downward and, shaking her head in total confusion, she muttered, “Will someone please tell me what the heck is going on?”

  Glaring at her in disgruntlement, Sabrina responded, “I’m afraid I can’t help you, dear. You’ve already uncovered more than I knew.”

  “Well, that may be, Gran, but I’ll just bet you’re still holding back on me.”

  “Ha! We shall see about that, my dear, all in good time.”

  The Following Month

  It continued to gnaw at Elspeth. At first she’d been just plain mad at her grandmother, but after a while she began to wonder what it was that made Gran think that she had a thing for Connor. Thinking back over her time with him, she admitted to herself that she’d been taken with him, but in love! Besides, she might not have the experience Gran had, but it was nonetheless against the law to marry one’s own uncle.

  Still, she just couldn’t stop thinking about it. Damn Gran for dredging it all back up in her mind. She was so distracted by it all that she was having trouble concentrating at work. She finally admitted to herself that she was going to have to do something about it. But exactly what to do - that was the question.

  Two additional months dragged by, by which time she was starting to form a plan in her mind. She needed to talk to someone, and the only person she could think of was Anna. So she decided to go to Egypt, but she thought it better to surprise Anna than to forewarn her. After all, her plans included checking up on Farhan, and she couldn’t risk telling Anna she was coming since she and Farhan might have remained on speaking terms.