Chasing Tomorrow Page 11

  As soon as one question was answered, reporters peppered the spokesperson with a whole host of new questions.

  “Hold on. Hold on, everyone,” she replied. “It’s early in the investigation. This is all the information we have for now. We will have another press conference in a few hours when we know more.” With that she turned and left the scene.

  “Wait. An address,” Arianna yelled after the agent. “Do you have an address for the bomber?”

  “Move along, s’il vous plait,” a policeman told them. “Nothing to see here.” He began herding Arianna and all the other reporters out of the area.

  Her group moved to the side, out of the way. “I need to call New York and arrange to get this on the air.”

  She checked her watch. It was very early in New York. She grabbed her phone and called her producer’s private number.

  “Steve,” Arianna said when Shine picked up. “Did you hear about the explosion?”

  “Yes, it’s just coming across the wires. Is everyone all right there…you, Kevin, Raul?”

  “We’re all fine. Now, listen. I’m right here on the scene. Get me a satellite hookup or a good Skype connection. I have footage and preliminary information from the authorities to report on.”

  “Good. Good. Good. We have a network affiliate in Cannes. I’ll arrange for you to broadcast through them. How fast can you get a report together?”

  “As soon as you get me a link-up, I’m ready to go.”

  “Excellent. I’ll get it set up.”

  As soon as she hung up with Shine, her phone rang. Looking down, she saw it was Zach calling.

  “Arianna, I heard about the attack in Cannes. Are you okay?”

  “We felt the force of the explosion and got hit with flying debris, but no injuries.”

  An audible sigh of relief could be heard on the other end of the phone.

  “Zach, I can only talk a minute. I’m on my way to file a report. I have to get this on the air.”

  “Sure, but before I let you go, uh…”

  There was a long pause.

  “Yes?” Dead silence. She looked at her phone to see if they were still connected. “Zach, are you still there?”

  Finally, he said, “I’m here, but what I want to say is, please be careful. Don’t get mixed up in this, okay?”

  “Mixed up? What do you mean? There’s a story here, and I have to follow it. It’s my job.”

  Another long pause.

  “Zach, I have to go. I have a report to file. And don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything risky, but I gotta go. I love you. I’ll call you later. Love you.” She hung up the phone and dashed off to get her story on the air.

  “GOOD MORNING,” the information officer said, as Arianna, Kevin and Raul gathered for the early morning briefing. “We have some updated information on the bombing suspect. Again, his name is Malik Shahab, twenty-seven years old from Syria. He lived at seventy-two Boulevard de La Croisette, Cannes. He has a wife, believed to be Iraqi, who lives at the same address. Our investigators have been to the home and have found bomb-making material throughout their apartment. Agents are going through his phone, computer, and social media checking for possible connections to terrorist organizations.”

  “What about the wife? Where is she now? Is she cooperating with the police?” someone yelled.

  “His wife’s name is Amira Shahab, age twenty-five. She has been questioned and denies knowing anything about her husband’s plans. She was released early this morning as we had no reason to hold her.”

  One question answered, and several more followed immediately. “Was Shahab working alone? Do you believe there are other accomplices? Any motive yet? Was this the act of an Islamic terrorist? Someone said he yelled Allahu Akbar. Can you confirm that?”

  The information officer put up her hands. “All right. All right. No, we don’t know if he was working alone. Not sure what his motive was. We’re looking into all of these things. We have another press conference scheduled for two this afternoon. When we know more, we’ll share what we have. That’s all for now. Thank you.”

  “Come on,” Arianna said, grabbing Kevin by the arm. “There’s more to this story, and I’m going to go get it.”

  “Where are we going?” he asked, a surprised look on his face.

  “I’m not sure. First, I want to talk to Shine.” She pressed his number on her phone and waited for him to pick up. “Steve,” she said when he answered, “I need our brain room to do some research for me. Amira Shahab. See what they can find out about this person. She’s the wife of the Cannes’ bomber. There was bomb-making material all over their apartment. She had to know what his guy was up to. Check social media and see what you can dig up. I’m looking for connections she may have had to any known terrorists groups…anything you can find will be helpful.”

  “Okay, but aren’t the local police investigating this?”

  “Yes, but if I can get the scoop first, that would be a feather in my cap. I’m a new foreign correspondent, and I’d like to establish a name for myself as a cutting edge journalist. I’m going after the wife because I think she knew about her husband’s plan and did nothing to prevent it. She just might be a member of a terrorist group herself. I’m going to find out.”

  “Uh…uh,” Steve stammered. “Now, look Arianna. I admire your pioneering spirit, but I think you should hold up and let the French police do their job.”

  “Well, they can do their job, but I can also be doing some investigation on my own. You know it’s good for us if our network breaks the news before everyone else, right?”

  “Yes. No, I mean yes, but no.”

  Arianna shook her phone as if she had a bad connection and didn’t really hear what she just heard. “What are you talking about…yes, no, yes, but no? You’re not making any sense.”

  “Uh, this is all well and good, but I think you should continue to cover the Cannes Film Festival, and let this story go. In fact, I insist.”

  Arianna’s mouth dropped wide open. She was speechless, not sure how to respond to what she just heard.

  Kevin, seeing the perplexed look on her face, mouthed the words, “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head and put up a finger, signaling him to hold up a minute. Back to the call, she said, “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, Steve, but that’s a bunch of bull. I’m a foreign correspondent with a lead on a hot story, and you’re telling me to stand down. What the hell is going on?”

  “Oh, shit. I don’t know what to say. I’m in a heap of trouble no matter what I do.”

  “What do you mean? Wha—”

  “Someone doesn’t want you covering dangerous stories. That’s why you’re covering a film festival instead of some other story such as a terrorist bombing.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Who suggested that?”

  “Actually it was more than a suggestion. I told them you’d never stand for this for very long, but I was threatened with my job if I sent you on anything too risky.”

  “Wow! Really? No way. Who?”

  “I have no idea. Someone told my boss and he told me, and I did as I was told. All I can say is somebody on your side is worried about your safety, so much so, you’re next assignment might be covering Paula Dean on the cooking network.”

  Arianna stood in stunned silence before finally saying, “I gotta go.” She hung up.

  “What is it?” Kevin asked, seeing the agitation written all over her face.

  She shook her head and pressed the speed dial number for Zach. As soon as he picked up, she asked, “Why?”

  “What? Why what?”

  “I know what you did. You’re the reason I’m on this lame film festival assignment. I hate you for doing this. Why’d you do it?”

  “I’m sure you do hate me for this, and I’m sorry, but…”

  “Well, it’s not going to work. There’s been a terrorist attack here, and I’m going after this story. The wife is involved, and I’m going to find her connection
to the bombing, and I’m not going to be covering some damn film festival.”

  “No, Arianna, wait. Please, listen to me. You’re right. I requested you be sent on low risk assignments and here’s why. You’ve been in danger so much, and the attack in Germany was the last straw for me. I can’t stand to see you put in danger again.”

  “But that’s not —”

  “No, let me finish. You cover this terrorist thing and you step into my world. These radical jihadists are pure evil. They have no respect for human life. You’ve seen things on the news. Well, I’ve seen the same horrific things in real life. It’s frightening, and not much scares me, but Arianna, I’m scared to death for your safety. That’s why I did what I did.”

  She stood steeped in anger, so much anger, the fact he’d done what he’d done out of love and concern for her safety, failed to register with her.

  “Listen, babe,” he continued, “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to do this, and I don’t blame you for being mad at me. So go ahead and yell and scream. Call me names or whatever you want. I deserve it, but please, I’m begging you, don’t go after the terrorist’s wife. Leave that story alone.”

  CANNES, FRANCE

  Arianna’s emotions were all over the place after learning Zach had used his influence to make sure she only received low risk assignments. She appreciated his concern for her safety. She really did. Considering some of the men she’d dated in the past, it felt good to be with a man who exuded such care for her well-being. But…she had chosen a profession which had the potential to put her in danger. She didn’t seek danger, but she accepted the risk as part of the job, and there was no way she was going to let Zach stop her from doing what she loved.

  At the morning briefing following the bomb attack, a man stepped to the microphone and greeted the waiting reporters, Arianna, Kevin, and Raul among them.

  “Good morning, everyone, I’m Captain Marcel Simon, and I’ll be conducting this morning’s press conference. First of all, I need to ask for your help.” He held up a picture of a Middle Eastern man. “This man’s name is Raja Baz. He is a known terrorist, and we believe he is here in France. We need to get this picture out to the public. Hopefully someone will recognize him and come forward with information concerning his whereabouts.”

  “What’s his connection to this case?” a reporter yelled out.

  “Both Malik Shahab and his wife, Amira, were in contact with him within the last two weeks. We think there may be a connection. Baz is an expert at bomb-making, and he may have assisted Shahab in building the bomb used in this case.”

  Cameras clicked away as reporters sought to get a picture of Baz to post on their news sources.

  “Now, I also have an update on the bomber’s wife,” the captain continued. “Iraqi-born Amira Shahab entered France a year ago on a Schengen visa, good for only ninety days. She obviously didn’t leave when her visa was up, and she recently applied for a Carte de Séjour. This permanent resident card is necessary in order for her to acquire work, though there is no record of her holding a job.”

  “Was she on any government watch list?” a reporter asked. “Why wasn’t she deported for overstaying her visa?”

  “Two good questions,” Simon replied. “Neither she nor her husband was on any terrorist watch list, but it is believed they may have been radicalized before coming to France. We have Facebook posts where they appeared to be supporters of the ISIS leader Ali Darzi and were in contact with other terrorist groups in the Middle East.

  “We’ve been to their apartment and have seized two AR15 style rifles, many rounds of ammo, and a large arsenal of explosive devices made from radio-controlled toys. Bomb-making material was found through-out the apartment. We saw significant evidence of extensive planning.”

  “What about the wife? She must have seen all this,” Arianna said. “Is she going to be charged?”

  “In order to charge the wife, we have to show she had knowledge of the crime,” Officer Simon said. “Mrs. Shahab gave conflicting accounts about what she knew of her husband’s intentions in the hours before the attack.”

  “Are you telling us you don’t think she had any prior knowledge or suspicion that her husband was planning an attack? I find that hard to believe. There was bomb-making material everywhere. Wha—”

  “No. No, I’m not saying that,” Simon said, cutting a reporter off. “All I can say is that we’re looking into it. This is an ongoing investigation, and if we can prove she had prior knowledge of his intent, we’ll act accordingly. Thank you very much, everyone. That’s all I have for now.” With that, he left the podium.

  “Where is Amira now?” Arianna yelled as the officer stepped away.

  “We’re not sure,” Simon yelled back over his shoulder. “We had no reason to hold her, so she’s out there somewhere. Thank you.” He walked out the door to a chorus of reporters shouting more questions at him.

  “Wow! Unbelievable.” Arianna snapped her notebook shut and put it back in her bag.

  “This chick is as guilty as her husband, but they’re just going to let her walk free.”

  “So the man said.” Kevin led the way out of the building. “Guess that wraps it up for us.”

  The threesome walked down the street, and everyone crammed into their rented Peugeot, with Kevin at the wheel. “Where to?” he asked.

  “Let’s swing by Shahab’s apartment. I’d like to snoop around and see what I can find. Talk to some neighbors. Maybe they’ve seen this Baz guy. You did get a shot of him with your cell phone, didn’t you?”

  “Got it.” Kevin waved his phone at her.

  “Arianna,” Raul said from the backseat, “you need to be careful about getting too mixed up with these characters. These are some really bad actors.”

  Arianna turned and looked at him. “Hey, love. I know you work for Zach, but are you going to try to stop me from investigating this story?”

  “Honest answer?”

  She nodded. “Of course. I need to know just how far you’ll go to stop me from covering this story.”

  “All I can say is, it depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether you seem to be in imminent danger. If your life’s at risk, I’m going to pull you out of the situation and shut the whole thing down.”

  “Raul, I love you so much. You’ve kept me safe so many times. But remember, your job is to protect me. Not to stop me from doing my job. Please keep that in mind.”

  Raul stared at her for a moment. “Understood. I promise to keep you safe.”

  Arianna wasn’t sure if that meant he’d completely stay out of her way and let her follow this story, or if it meant he’d shut the whole thing down at the first sign of trouble. Only time would tell, but for now she had a plan and wanted to get going on it.

  “Let’s see,” she said, pulling her notebook out of her bag. Leafing through the pages, she located the address of the Shahab’s apartment. Kevin keyed it into the GPS, and they were on their way.

  Once on the bomber’s street, Kevin slowed to a snail’s pace as they checked the numbers on the buildings. “I think it’s in the next block.” Kevin pointed up ahead.

  “Sounds right.” Arianna looked up the street where he was pointing. “Wait a minute. Hold up, Kevin. Pull over to the side.”

  Kevin tapped the brakes and eased over to the curb. “What’s wrong?”

  “Look. Who’s that person coming out of the apartment? It looks like Shahab’s wife, Amira.”

  “No way. Oh, but hold on.” Kevin slowly edged the car forward to get a better look. “You know. You might be right. So what do you want to do?”

  “Well, I’d like to talk to her. It’d make a great interview.” She started to get out when another car passed them and pulled up in front of the apartment. Amira ran forward, threw a suitcase into the backseat, got in the car, and they sped off.

  Arianna popped back into the car and slammed the door. “Hurry, Kevin. Follow that car. She’s packed her bag, and she
’s skipping town. Let’s see where she goes.”

  Kevin followed the fleeing car, trying to stay back, so it wasn’t obvious he was on their tail. “What are you going to do when we catch them? You can’t just walk up to her and say, ‘Hey, I’ve been following you because I know you’re trying to skip town. I’m a reporter. Would you mind telling me where you’re going?’ Can’t see that working too well, little sis.”

  “Very funny. I’ll figure what to say when I see where she’s going. Maybe I won’t ask her anything. Maybe I’ll just report this to the police. That would make a good headline. ‘Reporter stops bomber’s wife from fleeing the country.’ I can see it all now on the front page of major newspapers.”

  “Country? You think she’s fleeing the country, not just the city?” Kevin asked as he continued following the car.

  “I have no idea where she’s going, but Cannes is on the coast. If they keep going in this direction they’re going to run right into the Mediterranean.”

  As if on cue, Amira’s car turned into a marina where boats of all shapes and sizes were moored. With the Cannes Film Festival in full swing, the docks were full of multi-million dollar yachts, the festival lodging for the rich and famous.

  Amira’s car stopped at the entrance to a long pier.

  “Pull over here,” Arianna said. “I’m going to go see if she’ll talk to me. Stay in the car. It looks like she’s going to make a run for it. Call the police. I’ll try to stall her.”

  Raul started to get out.

  “No, please,” Arianna said. “Stay back. You’ll really spook her if you go with me.”

  “Not a chance. We go together or you don’t go.”

  “Okaay, then,” she sighed, “but let’s move. She’s out of her car and half way down the boardwalk already.”

  They walked briskly down the pier, following the bomber’s wife. Arianna didn’t want to run and totally freak the lady out, but she had to move fast enough to catch her before she boarded a speed boat waiting at the end of the dock.

  “Amira! Madame Shahab,” Arianna yelled, and waved after her. “A moment, sil vous plait.”