Patriot by M.A. Rothman

Author:M.A. Rothman [Rothman, M.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Primordial Press

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Connor pushed the mop and bucket off the elevator onto the mosque’s second floor. He was pulling a wheeled trash can behind him, which tended to roll in whatever direction it wanted regardless of which way Connor pulled or pushed it. It was after ten o’clock, and most of the staff had left for the day, but just down the hall, the guards were still standing outside Khan’s door. One of them said something in Farsi that Connor didn’t catch, and they all laughed.

Connor walked toward them, fighting the trash can the whole way, and the men paused in their conversation, all humor leaving them.

One of the men crossed his arms and frowned. “What are you doing?” He wore a black knit cap, pulled back high on his head, partially covering his thick dreadlocks. The hairstyle wasn’t typical, but over the last couple of days, Connor had come to realize that there really wasn’t anything typical about Khan. It was almost like he was moonlighting as a Muslim, simply to get the following.

“I wasn’t able to get the cleaning done earlier today,” Connor said. “I thought it might be easier to get it done now that everyone has left for the day. I just have these two offices left.”

“You aren’t getting in this one,” Knit Cap said.

“I just need to get the trash and sweep up a little. Hamid gave me the task; I’m just trying to make sure I get everything done correctly.”

“Hamid told you?”

“That’s right,” Connor said, shrugging. “And I want to do it correctly. It is my first week and everything.”

The men exchanged a glance, and Knit Cap shrugged. “Fine. You may go in, but make it quick.”

“Thank you,” Connor said.

Knit Cap pushed open the door and stepped inside, motioning for Connor to follow. “You won’t need that.” He pointed to the mop.

Connor frowned, but left the bucket in the hallway and pulled only the trash can in with him.

With Knit Cap watching his every move, Connor glanced around the entire office, taking mental notes of everything. An old-fashioned desk was topped with loose papers and a single computer and monitor. Two chairs faced the desk, and an oriental rug covered the majority of the hardwood floor. Bookshelves lined one wall, and behind the desk was a single window.

The computer monitor was turned off, but as Connor stepped around the desk, he saw that the computer itself was on. As he took a dust cloth from his waistband, he slipped a hand into his pocket and retrieved a tiny USB device. While he wiped the dust from the monitor, he surreptitiously pressed the USB device into one of the computer’s empty slots. A red LED flashed once and went silent, as expected.

Connor then pulled out the trash bag from the trash can, tied it off, and dumped it into his rolling bin. As he bent to put a fresh bag in Khan’s trash can, he also placed a quarter-sized transmitter underneath the desk.

“I can sweep,” he said as he stood, motioning to the rest of the room.

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