CHAPTER 5




         San Francisco, California

          Golden Gate Bridge

              Wednesday, 17th October 2001




     “She was the best detail you were ever handed, shipmate,” Jake remarked as he gazed at the fog rolling in from the Pacific.  Occasionally a car or truck would continue to appear behind us – crawling slowly through the “pea soup” flowing over the bridge – as foghorns echoed in the distance.
     We were both leaning on the clammy railing, I glanced at my watch; it’s now 3:16 A.M.  Then I turned to look at Jake.
     Jesus, dear reader!  Who was this guy?  How the fuck did he know I was thinking about Valerie?
     To make certain, I asked, “What d-detail?”
     “Valerie...” Jake flatly replied.
     That clinched it, dear reader.  I decided to punch this swabby in the snout!  The fucker was reading my mind...and it frightened me!
     Jake turned to me, held up both hands in surrender, and said, “Hold your horses, Pete.”  Then he cracked his lopsided smile, with that unlit cigarette dangling at its corner, and added, “I mean no offence, shipmate.  I’m just envious of that amazin’ chunk of luck droppin’ in your lap.”
     Confused, I asked, “Whaddya mean by that c-crack?”
     “Think about it, Pete,” Jake replied.  “Valerie wasn’t just another gorgeous dame and flyin’ buddy.  She got you off your complacent ass...makin’ you break outta your rut of self-doubt.  If she hadn’t put a blowtorch under your rump...you never would’ve set a new course and got aboard the airlines.”
     Jake looked away from me, tossed his cigarette away, shoved his hands into his peacoat, and spit over the railing, then gazed once again into the oncoming fog.
     “And now I’m droppin’ anchor at the third reason why I chose you to stop al-Qa'ida,” Jake added.  “If it hadn’t been for Valerie, you never would’ve flown for the Arabs, learned their lingo and...more important...figured out how the ragheads think.”
     “There is no God but Allah, and Muhammad is His Messenger”
     The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.





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