Page 118 of No Regrets

Hey beautiful. Just making sure you’re doing ok.

She responded straight away. I am. How’s the arm?

Dex: Almost as good as new. We’re heading back in a minute

Kelly: Good. Miss you already.

His smile widened. Miss you too.

He looked up as Ryan walked towards him. “So, you got a date or what?”

“Don't know what you're talking about.” Ryan smirked.

“You’re a fucking asshole sometimes, you know that?”

Ryan laughed, climbing in the truck. As Dex started the engine, his phone rang. Connecting the Bluetooth, he answered.

“Hey Sam, you're on speaker, Ryan’s here.”

“You guys on your way back?”

“Yeah, what’s up.”

“Roommate is talking.”

THEY WERE BACK AT THE farm in ten minutes.

“Mackie, connect a video call to this number.” Sam passed Mackie his phone. Within thirty seconds, the screens in front of them filled with a picture of a man, in a blue dress shirt. Silver-gray hair, clean-shaven, glasses perched on his head. Looked to be in his late forties, early fifties.

“Everyone, this is the agent in charge of FBI terrorism division, Dale Sanchez,” Sam said, before quickly going around the table introducing the team.

“Good to finally put faces to names. Heard a lot about you guys,” Sanchez said.

Dex raised his eyebrows at Sam.

“Dale and I served together early in our military careers. I went to SEALs. He landed in DELTA. He knows who you guys are, the same way I do.”

“I believe we owe you a thank you for getting us out of cuffs this morning with Rashid.” Dex turned back to Dale.

“No problem. I’ve added it to Sam’s tab.”

Sam grunted and the boys chuckled.

“Well, it seems you guys have stumbled into quite the situation. Around eight months ago, a man approached the roommate and Rashid at their mosque wanting them to join a small Muslim support group. The kid declined and he thought Rashid had too. The phone you found was a burner. He had more. They started appearing around six months ago. That’s when Rashid started dropping out of classes and distancing himself.”

“So, you think the guy at the mosque was recruiting.” Ryan’s voice was ice as he stood, hands on hips.

“Yeah, we do. If he was recruiting and radicalizing kids, then this could be much bigger than we first thought. A regular support group wouldn’t be distributing burner phones.”

“OK. But what the fuck does any of this have to do with me?” Dex demanded.

“Not sure yet. The kid sat with a sketch artist, and we got a hit. Meet Amir Saleem.” A picture appeared on screen.

“What do we know about him?” Dex grabbed his baseball, studying the picture.

“Not much yet. No record. Arrived here from the Middle East three years ago. He owns a property management company. Warehouses, apartment buildings. Married with a young son, lives in a two-story in the suburbs. His wife’s on the PTA. His son plays soccer. From the outside, he’s clean as a whistle. But we only just started digging.”

The team were quiet. Terrorists always looked clean from the outside. It’s how they blended in, did their research, recruited, and planned attacks.