Free Seven Days From Sunday (MP-5 CIA #1) by M. H. Sargent, Shelley Holloway Page B

birth name. Just name al Mudtaji gave him.”
    “Okay. But he speaks English?”
    She nodded. “He lived in...” her voice trailed off as she thought for a moment. Then she looked at him enthusiastically. “Minnesota. State of Minnesota.”
    “Minnesota?” Gonz repeated. “When? Do you know when?”
    “He went to college. Two years. Then he came back. That was before the attack in New York, yes?”
    “Before 9/11?”
    She nodded. “He said he knew it was going to happen. But I don’t believe him. He just wanted to seem important.”
    “What college, do you know? A university?”
    She just gave a shrug. “I think, yes.”
    “No, I mean was it what we call a community college? Or a big university?”
    “I’m sorry,” she answered clearly frustrated.
    “You remember the city? Minneapolis?”
    Another shrug. Gonz decided to drop it. The lab technician would be happy to know he had been right – the note writer had been educated in the West.
    A part of him felt like grilling the beautiful young woman. What else might she know that could be useful? Langley was checking on al Mudtaji’s real name, Mohammed Monla, but so far the name was drawing blanks. The question was, what else did she know? Under normal circumstances he would’ve had days to question her. Instead, they were scrambling to keep her on schedule, crossing their fingers that her half-brother hadn’t learned of her defection. He knew that if al Mudtaji did know of her duplicity, she would be killed immediately. He briefly wondered if she realized that.
    At that moment, as Ghaniyah looked out the window, she was wondering if the Americans knew what would happen if she failed. But it simply wasn’t an option. Not if she wanted to see Adnan again. And that’s what she wanted more than anything in the world. In fact, for all the Americans’ questioning, she had only lied once. That was in reference to al Mudtaji’s men. She would never tell them about Adnan. Simply because he was not a terrorist. Although she had been astonished to see him in their safe house in Baghdad, thrilled and frightened at the same time, the two had not spoken a word to each other. But his eyes had found hers more than once. And she could see the love and concern for her in his face which spoke volumes.
    That was why she had taken the head to the checkpoint. While it is true she wanted her brother stopped, she had expected that her delivery of the severed head would make the news. Adnan would then realize that she was now a prisoner of the Americans and have no reason to jeopardize his own future by ever dealing with al Mudtaji again.
    But her plan had backfired.
     

Chapter Six
Jadida, Iraq Thursday, April 13th 9:40 a.m.
    As the front door opened, Adnan looked up from his elevated position behind the pharmacy counter. He nodded in recognition, cradling the phone between his ear and his shoulder. “We have no record for a refill,” he said, frantically looking around his workstation. “That’s right...”
    Daneen studied her brother as she walked toward him. He was still looking for something. Finally she heard him say, “Okay. The dosage?” Still cupping the phone with his shoulder, he used his right hand to write on his left hand. “Okay. Thank you.” He hung up and let out a disgruntled sigh. He caught his sister’s curious look and explained, “Nothing to write on. We always have a pad of paper right here. I don’t understand.” He disappeared in the back for a moment and returned carrying several small pads of paper.
    “Where’s Thamer?”
    “Home delivery. A young mother. Always worried about her baby.”
    Daneen nodded, watching him as he glanced at the notations on his hand and wrote the same data on the notepad. If she hadn’t seen the news the previous night, she would be extremely proud of her younger brother. She knew that as Thamer had gotten older, he had turned more and more to Adnan to fill orders, keep in touch with both customers and their