Legacy and Redemption by George Norris Page A

the rain as he watched the bus pull to the curb.
    *
    Ahmed Hatif handed off the envelope to the man whom he’d had under surveillance for nearly three months. The Syrian native had no reason to doubt al-Haq’s loyalty. He had observed him at prayer service every Friday and even followed him on many occasions to his apartment and to his job. There was nothing that Hatif had seen to give him any reason to doubt the man’s loyalty.
    There was a sense of relief for Hatif, feeling that he had someone who he could trust. He had been told by both Sheykh Hajjar and Murad Zein that al-Haq was trustworthy, but still, Hatif needed to vet the man for himself. There could be no wavering or lack of conviction as the role al-Haq would be playing was to be a crucial one.
    Hatif got into his black Chevrolet Equinox and started it up. He drove around the block until he got to a vantage point where he could once again surveil al-Haq as he waited at the bus stop. Hatif turned on the vehicle’s windshield wipers and set them on intermittent. Al-Haq appeared nervous, pacing through the sun shower as he waited by the bus stop. Every few minutes, al-Haq would put his hand against his pants pocket, almost as if he expected the envelope would no longer have been there. Once the bus came and al-Haq had boarded, Hatif drove off and waited in front of al-Haq’s home; wanting to make sure that he went straight home without contacting anyone first.
    Hatif began to reflect on how he had gotten to this point. Hatif had been surprised that Sheykh Hajjar had selected him to be the coordinator for the attacks; it was a huge compliment. Of course, he was also fairly certain that Murad Zein was not so happy. Originally, Zein had been assigned as the coordinator while Hatif was to be the suicide bomber for O’Hare International airport. The rumor had been that Sheykh Hajjar had questioned Zein’s loyalty and decided to make the switch.
    Small details like those didn’t matter, however, to Hatif. He had one objective and one objective only—to see that the bombings went off without any issue. To be part of the Jihad was an honor—to be coordinating and supervising the attacks was nothing short of a dream come true for him. His was a deep hatred for America and her people. He hated everything about them, from their righteous attitudes, down to their customs and holidays. This holiday season would be one they would be sure to remember, Hatif assured himself. He couldn’t wait for Thanksgiving.
    Once Hatif saw al-Haq walking up the block, he was content that al-Haq had come directly home. He watched as the man took out his keys and entered his living quarters, removing the envelope from his pocket as he did. Satisfied, Hatif pulled out of his parking spot and headed for the Van Wyck Expressway. He glanced back in the rear view mirror at the dark blue Chevy Impala parked in front of al-Haq’s residence.
    *
    Nazeem al-Haq’s heart raced as he walked as quickly as his legs would carry him to his apartment. He withdrew his house keys and the envelope simultaneously. Once inside, he closed the door behind him and tore open the envelope before even sitting at the kitchen table. He dumped the contents onto the table. The first thing which caught his attention was the cash—there was hundreds, if not thousands of dollars, all in twenty dollar bills. There were also numerous pieces of paper to sort through and a set of Chevrolet car keys.
    Al-Haq set the car keys and the cash aside and looked through the papers. There was a vehicle registration and insurance card registered in his name for a 2009 Chevrolet Impala. The next piece of paper he read appeared to be a shopping list. Some of the items on the list were a sewing machine, ball bearings, assorted nails, a cell phone, fabric, and wire.
    A chill ran down his spine; he knew that he’d been correct. These were many of the same items he’d used so many times back in the Al-Qaeda training camp when he had first