I decided to take the partial manuscript with me to get it copied. I wanted to read everything that Ellie had written.
Was this what had gotten her killed-her book?
Next, I stared for a long time at a striking, poignant picture of Ellie, her husband, and their three beautiful children.
All dead now.
Murdered right here in their home. At least they hadn't been boiled in oil.
I took one more look at the photo of the two of us on the National Mall. Young and in love, or whatever it was that we were feeling.
“Ellie, I'll do what I can for you and your family. I promise you that.”
I left the house, thinking, What did you find in Africa?
Did somebody follow you back?
Cross Country
Chapter 11
EVERYBODY THERE KNEW there was trouble, but no one knew what kind or how bad it was.
A dark green panel van had screeched to a stop in front of a low-level mosque in Washington called Masjid Al-Shura. More than one hundred fifty peaceful congregants were crowding the sidewalk in front.
Even so, the very moment Ghedi Ahmed saw the gunmen scrambling out of the van, saw their gray hoodies, their black face masks and jaunty sunglasses, he knew they had come for him. They were just boys-the Tiger's boys.
The first gunshots were aimed into the sky. Just warnings. Men and women screamed, and some scurried back into the mosque.
Others flattened themselves on the sidewalk, shielding their children's bodies as best they could.
His hands held high, Ghedi Ahmed made his decision and moved away from his family. Better to die alone than to take them with me, he was thinking, shaking like a leaf now.