MY NAME IS KEVIN

Zoran Kori took the call from the Connecticut lawyer. “Barton I’m afraid these two people have stumbled into Tex’s affairs with us. Meza is trying to get our documents to get our last three bankers into the country.”

Barton Podnik looked at his appointment calendar. “I’ll be seeing them within an hour. They want advice about taking inventory for Thornton’s estate. If I sense they’re wary of Thornton’s association with our efforts with the US bank sabotage I’ll get back to you.”

“How strong is this anonymous credo Thornton adhered to and will these two others stick to it? Is it like our bond to Allah and our cause?” Kori asked.

“It’s why Meza picked Thornton in the first place. Yes, these people in AA do not disclose their identity other than first name. They also are not allowed to discuss each other’s business or personal life outside AA meeting rooms. And we advised Alan not even to use his real name. His choice of ‘Tex” was thusly adopted.”

“Yes, Meza and Alan were both real recovering alcoholics. Alan also knew he had a fatal disease and wanted to make some quick money. Fortunately Meza is of solid Jihad Islam and he felt Thornton would work out–and he did. It’s too bad Alan died like this. Allah had already willed Thornton’s death to be natural within several weeks. We have only this one more group left to infiltrate the New York and Federal Banking system.” Kori flipped through a rolodex file. “I have someone available to take care of this Kevin Dowd and Wynona Dempsey. I’ve already instructed Meza. The man should be in place as we speak. I just need to give the final word.”

Podnik sat forward with the phone at his ear. “Don’t do anything yet. We have to get the documents and I have to ascertain if Dowd and Dempsey really understand about Thornton’s activity with us. Meza told me of his plan. He’s convinced they’ll keep their mouth shut and right now they have no idea what the documents are all about. At Meza’s last contact this Kevin reassured him they would not even look at the documents–just hand him the package.

“Mr. Podnik, we’ll see how it turns out. It may be best to eliminate them somewhere down the line in any event.”

“How will I know Meza’s gunman?” Podnik looked at his desk clock. Dowd and Dempsey were due in five-minutes.

“He’s going by the name of Niyoosh. He’s an illegal alien with forged papers. They were forged by Thornton a year ago by the way. I have to go now.” Kori hung up.

Podnik’s intercom-phone buzzed. His 1100 AM appointment had arrived.