Free Test Pilot's Daughter II: Dead Reckoning by Steve Ward Page A

direction.
     
    Christina turned away in disgust and started rifling through drawers. There was the usual stuff one might find in the bedroom of a single man. But in one drawer by the bed she found a small, yellow book. A Bible? she wondered. No, it’s the Quran. She opened it at the bookmark and noticed one passage had been underlined. As she read, horror caught in her throat; a cold icy feeling made her shiver. She could hardly believe such a thing was in the holy book of Islam. And I thought it was supposed to be an instrument of peace.
     
    “Michael, dammit, would you put those down? Come over here and look at this. Rahni has it marked in the Quran. Listen.”
     
    Sura 47:3 This—because the infidels followed vanity, while those who believe, followed the truth from their Lord. . .
     
    When ye encounter the infidels, strike off their heads till ye have made a great slaughter among them, and of the rest make fast the fetters. . .and who so fight for the cause of God, their words He will not suffer to miscarry; He will vouchsafe them guidance, and dispose their hearts aright; and He will bring them into the Paradise, of which He hath told them.
     
    Believers! If ye help God, God will help you, and will set your feet firm: But as for the infidels, let them perish. . .
     
     
     
    “It’s the Quran, Stick. Over a thousand years old. Says all kind of weird things. Studied it in college. You can find plenty of that ‘kill the enemy’ crap in the Bible too, if you look hard enough.”
     
    “Sure, but he has it earmarked and underlined. Why do you think he would do that?”
     
    “Okay, okay, it’s a little scary.” He made a spooky face with his flashlight under his chin. “Why don’t we get the hell out of here, right now, before the boogieman returns?”
     
    “Not yet,” she said. “There’s some interesting stuff in his mail, like a twenty-thousand dollar deposit slip.”
     
    “Twenty-thousand?”
     
    “I’m sure it’s just pocket change,” she said sarcastically. “Let’s go through every drawer and check out that closet. See if you can find anything tying him to Iran.”
     
    “Already did,” he smiled in his flashlight, holding up a photo. “Here’s a picture of Rhani and some other people in front of a monument. Look at the note on the back, Azadi Square, Tehran. Now, can we go?”
     
    All of a sudden there was a clanging noise, then footsteps coming down the outer hallway. It sounded like a large man, heavy steps muffled by old, worn out shoes. They looked at each other in a panic and ducked behind the bed. She gestured for him to turn off his light. The steps got louder and louder then stopped. Her heart pounded. She hadn’t thought about what might happen if they got caught. What if he had some spooky friends come by to find the door unlocked? She could hardly breathe, sucking air in small gasps. She turned to Michael in the dark, and he seemed fairly calm for the circumstances. Impressive, she thought. He looked back and held up a finger in front of his lips. Then he eased up and peeked over the bed. After a long silence which was difficult to interpret, they heard the steps going back the other way and, finally, the front door of the building clanged shut.
     
    “Shit!” Christina laughed nervously as she stood up. She clicked her light back on about the same time Michael did.
     
    Michael looked frustrated. “That was close; let’s get the hell out of here. ”
     
    “All right, we’ll take this stuff, get copies then return and put it back.” She threw everything in a large bag and headed for the door. Michael followed her like a puppy dog. In the dark she felt his hand grab her gently by one arm and spin her around. After a millisecond of hesitation, he kissed her on the lips.
     
    At first she was shocked, but his kiss was soft, wet and inviting. Feelings stirred, feelings that had been dormant for months. He enveloped her in his arms and kissed her again, this time