Free Enemy Among Us-A Jordan Wright Thriller by Randy Reardon Page B

gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, grabbed his lunch pail, headed down the stairs and opened the door to the outside. He was taken aback by what had happened to the door. Sometime during the night, someone had painted the word “traitor” in both Farsi and Danish, in red paint with an underlining in which the paint was allowed to run down the door to simulate blood dripping. As Akmed stared at the door, his eyes caught movement and he looked over to the street. People — their neighbors — were standing on the sidewalk, staring, commenting to one another. When Akmed turned and looked at them, they all looked away and continued on their way.
    A white patrol car of the Danish Politi turned down the street with its blue light flashing. A second Politi unit had entered from the opposite end of the block and pulled up in front of Akmed’s house. One of the officers got out of the car and began to talk to Akmed in Danish.
    Akmed shook his head, indicating he didn’t understand.
    The officer began again in English. “Is this your home?”
    Akmed nodded yes.
    “What’s happened and do you know who or why someone would do this to your door?”
    “They think I’m someone else. They think I’m someone who killed members of their families. But, I have never done those things. I work at the port. My wife works at the Ansgar. We were accepted here as political refugees. I have suffered no differently than any of my neighbors. I despise those who lead my country today. I have never done anything in their name.”
    “I see,” the officer nodded. “Let us take a report.”
    “With a crime like this and the accusations made, you will probably be summoned to the City Hall to talk to a case worker. They will need to verify your identification and ensure you haven’t committed any crimes in your past. If the harassment continues and you have no connection to the crimes you are accused of, they can help you relocate.”
    “Within Denmark?” Akmed looked at the officer, a moment of hope filling him.
    “It depends. Sometimes we find these things just travel with you if you stay in Denmark. We aren’t that big of a country, where you can hide. These things seem to keep coming up with people even if they do move.”
    “I see,” Akmed said, dejected.
    The officer tore off a copy of the report and gave it to Akmed.
    “Sorry this happened to you. Hopefully, it’s a one time thing”
    “I hope you are right.” Akmed knew it wasn’t a one-time thing, but it would escalate until Denmark was ready to be rid of them.
    Akmed and Mahasin received a summons to appear at Town Hall. Located at S. Knud’s Square, the Town Hall was an impressive structure of red brick, with the first construction done in the late nineteenth century, additions in 1936 and 1955 finished in red tile. While not only serving as the center for all municipal business, the civic leaders had also utilized its public spaces to house various works of art.
    As they entered the building, Akmed went over to the directory and found the office for immigration was on the second floor, room two hundred thirty two. They passed by the elevator and went up the main staircase.
    They entered the reception area and Akmed produced the letter they had received, handing it to the young lady who was seated at the desk. She quickly perused the letter and motioned for them to take a seat as she got up from the desk and headed down the hall.
    An attractive woman came into the reception area. She walked over to Akmed and Mahasin and in greeted them in Danish.
    “Hello, I’m Lise Hansen. I’ll be your case worker.”
    Akmed and Mahasin replied in their stilted Danish.
    “Please don’t worry. We will conduct the meeting in English, if that is preferable to you.”
    “Thank you. That would be good for us, Miss Hansen.”
    “Please. You may call me Lise,” she told them as she gestured for them to stand and follow her back to her office.
    Lise was the perfect picture of a Danish