The Project

By Harold Alvin

The Project is really a continuance of Harold Alvin"s first novel "We have come to kill you" Greco was borne in the trouble East but his parents and the family moved to the USA and he attended grade school, high school and into a well known college. One day a stranger who had watch him from day one of college to graduation. It was in his third year that a man approached him and offered to buy him a cup of something hot. He chose hot tea and as they sat down the man told him his name, Peter Cushing tho that was not his real name and after that meeting, Peter said, You are from the East Yessir Greco said. "I would like to talk some more. Okay, see you here tomorrow same time, same place. Okay, Peter!
All night Greco tossed and turn in bed unable to sleep, wonder what this man was really after?
they visit in the same on the College Campus. A small coffee shop in some area of the coffee shop they found a corner of the shop where they could talk semi-private.
Peter asked, "Greco, where were you born? Iraq. How many languages do you speak? Fluently in 10 of course English and Spanish as well. The questioning went on and on. Greco missed his classes. Finally, Peter said, "how would you like to work for the U.S. C.I.A. ?
Yes, I would like that.
After great extensive training. HE was given his first assignment. Finally, they said what is your code name. Looking out the window he saw a Greckle on the Lawn. Turning to Peter he said, "call me Greco or Bird of Prey." His first assignment was to
search for OBM. He did so well the department assigned him to the terrorist department. He was sent to South America and was shot in Mompox, Columbia and left for dead in the street. At least they thought he was dead. Secretly, he was flown to the great hospital in Washington. Did he survive? What happen to him when his parents were told he was lost somewhere in the Columbian Jungles?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479767526

Harold Alvin

Born on a small farm in southeastern Kansas, he attended college in Florida and continued his education by attending Dallas School of Mortuary Science. He passed the Texas State Licensing Board for Funeral Directors and Embalmers. He enjoys reading and has many thousands of books in his private library. A number of his poems have been published. He is an Avid reader and traveler. He has traveled in the United Kingdom, Japan, Singapore, South America, Mexico. He is married and lives in Texas.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

G RECO CAUGHT A taxi outside Paul Cushing’s office at the CIA headquarters in Langley. Noticing two men wearing sunglasses get into a black Lincoln with smoke-colored windows, he knew the car was following him.

Maybe I’m just getting jumpy after the trouble in Cottonwood.

Several FBI agents and Al Qaeda members died recently in a bloody shootout at a cheap motel in Cottonwood, Arizona, and two other Al Qaeda operatives died right after in a fiery oxygen-fueled explosion at a California self-storage company. Greco sensed his luck had run out.

His cell phone vibrated against his chest as he shifted uneasily in the back seat of the cab. There were only two people who had his cell phone number – OBL and P.J. – and he just left P.J.’s office. Only in extraordinary emergencies did they use cell phones, all too aware of how easily the signals could be intercepted. Suddenly pale, he saw the message:

remmber u can run bt u can’t hide. D prject is nver fnshed until d lst nail s drivn n d wrkers are paid n pday s coming

He clasped the phone and shoved it into his pocket. He tapped his fingers on his leg as his mind raced through the possibilities. He knew it couldn’t be an accidental hacker. The message was chillingly unmistakable: someone had penetrated his cover. Who accessed this secure wireless line? FBI? CIA? Some g-man gung ho to add another notch to his weapon?

The Lincoln drove past only after the cab stopped at the unloading lane in front of the United Airlines terminal. Greco’s eyes nervously scanned all directions as he went through the routine of purchasing his ticket and checking his baggage to Detroit – his first chance in two years to drop his guard and relax with his family for a few days. As he boarded the United Airline flight, he spotted one person in first class who might be an agent.

Surely, this man cannot be a CIA agent.

They never fly first class, especially if the government is paying for it.

The plane landed at Detroit Metro ninety minutes later. Greco relaxed.

No agent. Just my nerves. I must be getting old. Or at least paranoid or just plain suspicious.

A few minutes later, Greco noticed the same man at the baggage carousel, suddenly lost among the small crowd of passengers hurrying to see their luggage, indeed, had arrived as expected. The man retrieved his overnight bag and Greco saw him enter a black Lincoln with smoke-colored windows. Greco smiled.

Of course! Black Lincolns with tinted windows are at every airport.

Greco studied his cabbie whom he assumed was from the Middle East. He spoke to the man in Arabic. The driver smiled – displaying an immaculate set of white teeth – and responded warmly in the same tongue. Greco pointed out the black sedan, now following them, and offered the cabbie an extra Jackson to lose the tail. Not easy for at least twenty miles until they could get inside Detroit where exit ramps off the interstate often confused even regular commuters.

The cabbie earned his twenty-dollar tip with four tire-screeching left turns and a serendipitous red light. Greco relaxed, knowing that the rest of the way to his mother’s home would be like any ordinary cab fare. But only so much as Greco recalled the disturbing text message.

Greco intended his visit to be a surprise. She burst into tears when she saw her eldest son standing at the door. She grabbed him, then hugged and kissed him.

Twenty years earlier, Greco wondered if his mother would be so happy to see him when he left the Muslim faith and underwent the extensive classes to convert to Roman Catholicism when he married Jo. Perhaps Greco was smart to wait it out. Time mellows hard feelings even if the memories never really leave.

Oh, Greco, I’ve not seen you in over two years, ever since you’ve been in the Middle East, his mother said.

Her words came out in rapid staccato fire.

How long can you stay? You are looking great. When do you go back?

Mom, Mom, easy.

Greco pulled away from his mother’s almost-too-tight embrace.

Please! Just one question at a time.

His mother’s warm embrace was convincing evidence that blood is thicker than water. Greco’s mother and father came from the Middle East and had moved into the Detroit area more than forty-five years ago with Greco being their first born. They spoke the Middle East dialect and Greco picked up the Arabic language before he went to school. His parents were raised as strict Muslims but as Greco grew older he learned English rather quickly. However, his parents’ customs did not change. A scout for the University of Texas (UT) saw him play football in high school and he decided to go to UT on a scholarship. Greco also found his passion in skyscrapers and bridges and he entered the civil engineering major. It wasn’t long before others noticed the combination potential of his handsome Middle East looks and his personal knowledge of Muslim customs. A natural for CIA recruitment, he politely declined the overtures officers had made when they visited the UT campus in Austin. After graduation, Jacob, his best friend, convinced him that there was more money to be made in law than in building skyscrapers and bridges. They both liked Texas and Greco welcomed the opportunity to stay as well. Both went on law school in Dallas at Southern Methodist University, graduated, and passed the bar.

Oh, Greco! How silly of me. Come inside, close the door and come back to the kitchen. I’m trying to decide what to fix for dinner.

Well, whatever you decide, I know it will be something good. You are the best cook that I know.

He entered the kitchen just as spotless as it was the last time.

Besides, I can’t stay long, and I will be going back in a few days.

What do you mean, not very long?

She frowned, kneading her hands as she always did when she was upset or nervous.

Oh, I don’t know, maybe three or four days.

He began to wonder if this trip had been a good idea. They were following him and only the cabbie’s driving derring-do had given Greco some temporary peace of mind. He knew they would keep looking.

Yeah, if they find me they will kill me. Therefore, I will have to keep moving and be ever alert.

Only three or four days after you’ve been gone for over two years?

His mother managed a wan smile but Greco knew she was disappointed. Just as quickly, though, she brightened considerably.

Greco, before I forget. I have the nicest girl I want you to meet. She finished her law degree at Yale and is working for a law firm, Bender, Bender and Trust – the firm your father uses for his business. She has long blonde hair, sparkling green eyes, beautiful white teeth, and dimples in both cheeks when she smiles. She is very single, intelligent, and attractive.

She reiterated the last adjective.

She is a very, very attractive-looking lady.

How did you get acquainted with her?

It was last year when your father asked me to take some papers to the law firm. He decided to incorporate the business and to make your two brothers partners. She was the one I talked with. Later she called and said that since she lived only a few blocks from us, she would bring the papers by to sign. It saved me a trip downtown. She was so considerate that later I invited her to come over for dinner.

His mother put away some pots and pans that had been left to dry by the sink. She then laid out some cutlery to help prepare the evening meal.

Mom, what happened to your Muslim customs?

The urge to tease his mother was irresistible.

"You have lived in America too long. Do you still wear your burka?"

I do when I go out in public or to the mosque. Why do you ask? Well, you are trying to match me up with some lady. When did you become a matchmaker?

I know, Greco, but Cheryl is such a nice person, and I thought of you when she told me she was single. I told her that I had an older son whose wife had passed away several years ago and that perhaps sometime when you were home, I would invite her for dinner.

Oh no. My mom has become a matchmaker. I’m sure she means well, but I’m not interested in women.

Everything was suspended after Jo’s death. Now memories tucked away years ago were in motion.

Every detail of that first meeting with Jo was as sharp as ever. Proud of their success after finishing up some of the toughest hurdles of law school, Greco and his best friend decided that a long summer’s trip was in order before settling down to a lifetime of work. They zeroed in on Asia – anxious to learn new languages and dialects – and they soon settled on Singapore. They made reservations at the Copthorne Hotel. Greco was excited to get started, like a child on his first major trip, the morning after their arrival even while his roommate stayed in bed.

Knowing that the Botanical Gardens of Singapore contain some extraordinarily rare species of orchids, his mother’s favorite flower, Greco went to the gardens alone. It was there that he met Jo – Josephine Grayling – and her girlfriend. It was hardly an empty cliché. She immediately stole his heart with her smile and her composed, poised elegance, the sort that endeared Grace Kelly to Prince Rainier and the tiny country he ruled.

Jo and her friend were on vacation from Virginia Tech. Both major in languages and Jo was preparing to become a translator, preferably in Arabic so she could work for oil companies. She hoped that her fascination with the Middle East would eventually land her a job in Washington, D.C.

Jo already seemed like a seasoned Beltway professional. Greco learned that her father was a retired naval officer. Jo was perfect. The only problem was religion: Jo was Roman Catholic and he wondered just readily his strict Muslim parents would accept her. Greco and his best friend spent their entire time with Jo and her friend. They visited the museums and enjoyed Senosta Park and the four became inseparable friends.

But, the clarity of that first meeting eclipsed every other memory of that trip. The girlfriend had just taken a picture of Jo amid some orchids when Greco walked up.

What a beautiful picture, orchids and a beautiful lady.

Yes, I love orchids. They are my favorite flower. Do you like orchids?

As a matter of fact, I do. They are my favorite as well. Do you mind if I take your picture?

No, I’ll let you take my picture if you let me take yours.

That sounds like a good deal to me. Oh, let me introduce myself. I am Greco Mohammed, born and raised in Detroit, Michigan, and taking a much-needed vacation from the Southern Methodist University School of Jurisprudence.

He smiled warmly at her.

It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Mohammed.

Okay. My name is Josephine Grayling, but everyone calls me Jo and you can, too. This is my friend, Susan, and we’re on a vacation, too. From Virginia Tech.

Greco asked Susan to join Jo in the picture. As the two women stood behind the beautiful array of orchids, Greco’s mind was awhirl.

This woman is so beautiful. I just have to know more about her.

Say cheese.

They all laughed.

Greco, are you visiting here by yourself?

Yes, I am. Well, not really. I have my best friend, Jacob, but he wasn’t feeling very good today. I guess the long plane trip over here was too exhausting for him. We arrived yesterday, and he stayed in the hotel. He said something about resetting his biological time clock.

Where are you staying?

We are staying at the Copthorne.

You are! Jo exclaimed, obviously delighted.

So are we. This is our second day, and we have so many things planned.

We wanted to see Senosta Park. Have you seen it yet?

No, but we planned to go there tomorrow.

That’s exactly what we planned to do, so why don’t we go together?

Wonderful! We could meet in the hotel lobby tomorrow, say about 9 a.m.

That sounds okay to me.

He turned to check with Jo’s friend.

How about you, Susan? Are you interested?

I’m easy to get along with. Whatever floats your boat is fine with me.

Greco, Jo said, let me take your picture, and then we will have Susan take one of us together.

A couple passing by agreed to take a picture of all three with both cameras. Then the girls asked Greco to join them for the rest of their excursion through the gardens. He was ready to do just about anything to be near this gorgeous creature.

The fragrance of her perfume is a real aphrodisiac. It’s most intoxicating and is really going to my head!

Greco. Greco! What are you thinking about, son?

He was embarrassed and saddened. I was just thinking about Jo and the day we met.

Shall I invite Cheryl?

Sure. It’s okay with me.

Who would want to meet me. I’m just a middle-aged man.

He stepped into the hallway and studied himself in the full-length mirror. He was still trim and fit, but he noticed the now-prominent swath of gray flecks in his hair. At least it matched his beard.

Maybe I need to get ‘Just for Men’ and cover up my gray hair as well as my beard.

His piercing ebon eyes were clear though. No need for glasses – not even for driving or reading the agate type in newspapers. All in all, he could easily pass for being in his mid thirties, not bad for someone facing the dreaded fiftieth birthday.

Oh, Greco you have been so lost since Jo passed away.

I know you don’t get to come home very often, but you need to find a nice lady and settle down.

Mom, I loved Jo, and when she died so suddenly, it just destroyed all my hopes and dreams. All our plans evaporated.

Yes, I know, son, but you have to go on. It’s been over twenty years, and you have so much to offer. Besides, you owe me some grandbabies. Your brothers have two babies each, and Mona is expecting again in a few months.

During Greco’s third year in law school, He arranged to spend Christmas with Jo, who was an only child, and her parents. He told his parents he couldn’t come home for the holidays, avoiding any disclosure about his intentions. While in Virginia, Greco converted to Roman Catholicism and became engaged to Jo. A few months later they married in the Catholic church in Virginia Beach where Jo had been baptized after her birth.

His parents, upset that he had converted from the Muslim faith, lectured him that such an act would have brought a death sentence in the old country. Greco’s relationship with his parents had been guarded and tenuous. About eighteen months later, well after Greco had graduated and passed the Texas bar exam, the couple decided to visit her folks and then swing by Detroit, hoping that time had ameliorated the tension between Greco and his parents.

While on their way to visit Jo’s parents, she complained of terrible headaches and was quickly admitted into Bethesda Naval Hospital. Numerous CAT scans and X-rays confirmed that Jo had a fast-growing brain tumor. She went quickly, dying on April 11, 1982 – Easter Sunday.

Desperate to cope with his inconsolable grief, Greco remembered the names of the CIA recruiters who had visited campus several years before. The well-planned dreams of his life with Jo had crashed and he believed that this was his only pragmatic option. Yet, even after twenty-three years, the pain remained, dormant but intact in its form and intensity.

Greco needed to switch subjects quickly.

Oh, what great-looking bananas. Hmmmm, they taste as good as they look.

Be careful, Greco. I don’t want you to spoil your dinner. When you were little, you were always coming into the house and wanting to eat something just before the evening meal, and then when the meal was ready, you didn’t want to eat. Do you remember?

Mother was in her prime element. Greco laughed.

Marienne Mohammed was a great cook and baker. She also was an excellent rug weaver. Even now, she still bore the lingering strains of the deep hurt when Greco walked away from his childhood foundation, converted to another religious faith and married someone they knew nothing about. His mother found solace in her cooking. Her recipes were the core of her husband’s well-established bakery.

No, I don’t remember that. It seemed to me I was always hungry, and you always had the right kind of fruit when I was growing up.

Well, do you mind if I invite Cheryl for dinner tonight?

Greco knew better than to think the banana would distract his mother’s determined mission.

Well, I love you and Dad very much. I care for my brothers, their families, and my sister. Somehow, though, I’ve never been able to love anyone else or even show an interest in other women after Jo’s death. But if it will make you happy, sure, invite her.

Son, I understand the way you feel, but like I said, you can’t live in the past. You have to look to the future. But just relax here with me while I fix your favorite dish for dinner tonight.

Greco was relieved at his mother’s words. Thinking about dinner somehow soothed the emotional pain trapped inside.

"You mean, Biryani?" he asked, smiling.

Yes.

Mom, I’ve never figured out how you can make meat, rice, and yogurt taste so good. I have had it many times in the Middle East, but no one cooks it the way you do. You are the world’s greatest cook.

She smiled, flattered and humbled by her son’s enthusiastic appraisal.

Greco, quit buttering me up and call your dad at the bakery and ask him to come home early. Do you know your brothers work with your dad in the shop now, and they have been very busy? They work long hard hours, but it helps to pay the bills. Since your sister is in college, it takes much money.

Mom, you mean Rebecca is in college?

It hardly seemed possible that his little sister was moving around in the adult world.

Yes, she started last year.

Where is she going to school? She wanted to be like you. You know you were always her favorite brother so she is going to the University of Texas in Austin and later plans to attend Southern Methodist if she changes her mind. She’s following in your footsteps.

What is she studying? Electrical engineering?

No, she is studying molecular biology. She wants to be a scientist.

Molecular biology?!?

Yes, I know, but she is really hooked on this stem cell development program. I don’t think we should be fooling around with Allah’s creation, do you, Greco?

I have mixed emotions on that, mom. I see pluses and minuses in the program.

What do you mean?

Well, the possibility of finding ways to restore handicapped people or curing invalids so they can walk again or finding a cure for those with Alzheimer’s or those with diabetes is astounding. Just think of the thousands in this country alone that would enjoy a better quality of life, not to mention the millions elsewhere. To find a cure for Type II diabetes alone would affect millions of people saving them from the threat of blindness or early death. Why, think of the fortune people would save by not having to buy insulin!?

She was listening intently, nodding her head slightly.

"The bad side is that some runaway scientist or madman begins to clone and develop mutants. Besides these drawbacks, they have also discovered these human embryonic stem cells don’t remain ageless and perpetually unblemished as scientists once thought. I recently read the article written by Aravinda Chakravarti of John Hopkins Medical Institution. They published the article recently in the journal, Nature Genetics. Do you know what he discovered?"

Greco relished the opportunity to display his air of authority and expertise with his mother.

No.

He discovered that the longer stem cells are cultivated, and the more cell divisions they undergo, the more mutations build up in their genes.

Son, I don’t understand all of this sophisticated terminology, but I think the president is correct. We should leave Allah’s creation alone.

She turned back to her cooking.

That’s enough talk, son. Call the store and let them know you are home.

Okay.

Looking at her watch she said, Greco, are you sure it’s okay if I call this lady friend for dinner tonight?

Yes, that will be fine.

Okay, let me use the phone first and I’ll catch her before she leaves work.

She dialed the number, and waited.

Hello, Cheryl, this is Mrs. Mohammed. You sound out of breath. Are you okay?

She listened a moment, then put her hand over the receiver, whispering to Greco.

She was just leaving her office when I caught her.

She returned to the phone.

I’m fine. Would you be so kind as to have dinner with us tonight? My oldest son, Greco, is home for a few days. You know the one I told you about who works for the oil company in the Middle East.

She listened for a few seconds then smiled.

Oh, I’m so glad. Come over anytime. We’ll eat about seven.

A few more moments passed.

Goodbye.

Then Greco called his father but only got the answering machine. A few minutes later, his father walked in the front door. He embraced his son warmly as soon as he saw him. Greco’s brothers and their families arrived not long after their father. Everybody’s warm greetings made Greco feel at ease. He realized they had genuinely accepted him back into the family. His father excused himself and went to shower and dress for the evening meal. His mother announced that Cheryl would be joining them.

Please, she said with a smile. Everyone be on your best behavior. Greco, set up the children’s table and chairs. They will enjoy having their own table at Me-Ma’s.

Greco answered the door as soon as the chimes rang. He was pleasantly surprised at what he saw: a very attractive woman with blonde hair, green eyes, a nice figure, impeccably dressed and wearing green lizard skin pumps that matched her eyes. He guessed her age at about forty. She introduced herself as Cheryl.

You must be Greco?

Her voice had a musical quality he found pleasing but he kept thinking about Jo.

Yes, I am. Please come in.

At the dinner table that night, Greco told his family he had an announcement to make.

I suspect that my oil company BHP will soon be moving me to South America for a new assignment. If they do, I’ll be staying in Cartagena, Colombia.

His mother looked worried.

So soon? When will you get transferred back to the United States?

I don’t know, Mom. I never get to make the decisions. I just have to carry them out.

Son, be careful.

I will.

If only she knew what I really did, she would die of worry.

His mother went on.

The only good thing about going to South America is it may be safer than the Middle East. When you transfer to South America, will you be passing back through the United States?

I doubt it but if I do, I promise, mom, I will stop here and visit with you for a few days. That’s only if they send me through the U.S. Unfortunately, I suspect I’ll fly directly from London to Rio de Janeiro and then take a plane from there to Cartagena, Columbia.

Okay, I understand.

Her disappointment was audible but she bravely smiled.

His father spoke up for the first time from the head of the table.

How long will you be in South America?

I don’t know. I’m in a position where I may be in the Middle East today, and, if the powers that be, call me, I could be on a plane the next day to parts unknown. In this case to South America. You know how BHP is. You are just a pawn for them to place wherever they desire.

His brother Rafael joined in.

That reminds me. Do you still play chess?

Greco chuckled.

I haven’t played for a long time, but I can beat you.

You really think so?

Absolutely. After dinner, you and I will tangle.

Okay, you’re on, but I must warn you that I’ve had lessons from some experts on the Internet. I’m pretty good.

Al Sheik, his youngest brother, added his own challenge.

If you beat Rafael, then you will have to tangle with me. I’m the real threat.

The brothers laughed in agreement.

Greco upped the ante.

I can play both of you at the same time and beat both of you with one eye closed and one hand tied behind my back.

Cheryl was very attractive and pleasant, but as they visited during the meal, Greco had a feeling that she was not his type. His mom meant well, of course, but who would ever be able to take Jo’s place?

His mind went back to his last days with Jo. Watching her holding her head and crying because of the terrible pain from the brain tumor