A Bombing Enigma Read online

  “Yes. I arrived Friday evening and am pretty much all set up,” Cynara replied.

  “Are you taking the bus?” Jane enquired.

  “Yes,” Cynara replied.

  “Well I also came by bus and am headed back in the same direction. Lunch sounds lovely. Can I join you?” Jane asked.

  “That would be great!” Cynara exclaimed happily.

  Cynara and Jane got on the bus. Jane chattered nonstop the entire way. Cynara was happy to just listen. She found out a lot about her talkative companion. Jane had recently turned twenty-five and was not in any serious relationship. She had always lived in York and her family was still here. After graduating from York University, she joined Woodstock school and was very happy with her work. She had a set of rooms within the school grounds, similar to Cynara’s. Most weekends she still spent at her parents’ house. Her dad was retired and she had an older brother who lived in London. Jane finally paused in her monologue and ruefully apologized for her jabbering. Cynara told her that she enjoyed listening to the conversation.

  Jane and Cynara alighted near the city center. They were both ravenous. Jane took her to a little Italian restaurant down the road. They ordered spaghetti with garlic bread. The food arrived within a few minutes and was simply divine. Cynara enjoyed both the food and Jane’s company. She heard a lot of gossip about the other teachers at Woodstock. The teaching staff seemed to be quite friendly and close to each other. Jane told her that everybody still in town during the summer months usually socialized a few times. She promised to invite Cynara and take her along to their next get-together. The school was in session until June 6. Thus, the first summer bash would probably be towards the latter part of the month.

  After finishing their lunch, Cynara and Jane decided to walk it off. They set off towards Museum Gardens near the River. It was not far and they reached in less than ten minutes. The Gardens were beautiful and quite crowded. Families were picnicking everywhere. Jane explained that it was a very popular spot. They walked towards the river and then followed the path alongside.

  Jane asked Cynara about her family. Cynara explained that it was just her and Charles. Jane felt quite sympathetic to hear that Cynara’s parents were no longer alive. She came from a large family full of aunts, uncles, and cousins on both sides. Most of them lived in York. It was probably hard for her to imagine having only a brother. Jane generously offered Cynara to visit her home anytime Cynara felt lonely. She was moving back in with her parents for the summer.

  They reached Homestead Park. It was a myriad of colorful flowers. The girls decided to sit on a bench to enjoy the scenery. Cynara was unable to contain her curiosity any longer and asked, “Jane, how are you related to the Stewarts?”

  “George Stewart was my mother’s brother’s son, so my first cousin. We were not too close growing up as he was a lot older than me,” Jane disclosed.

  “When did he marry Mrs. Stewart?” Cynara asked.

  “They would have been married ten years this September. George met Elizabeth at a racing event when she was just twenty-one and he was twenty-five. It was love at first sight, an instant attraction. After a short whirlwind romance and courtship, they wed,” Jane revealed. “My uncle and aunt were initially very reluctant to accept Elizabeth. Being a very affluent and influential family, they had wanted George to marry within their fraternity. Elizabeth came from an underprivileged broken home. Her mother was an alcoholic and father had disappeared when she was just a child. The family was very wary of her. However, they soon melted under her charm and beauty.”

  “Sounds like a fairytale,” Cynara remarked.

  “Yes it was,” Jane agreed. “I still remember the wedding. It was beautiful, every girl’s dream. Elizabeth had looked exquisite. They had always talked about having a very special tenth anniversary celebration. But it was not meant to be.”

  Mrs. Stewart’s story had a magical beginning with a tragic ending. “Why did they never have any children?” Cynara asked.

  “I am not sure. When they first got married, they had both been so young and had probably decided to wait for a few years. However, I do not know why they remained childless in all the subsequent years. Elizabeth never broached the topic with any of us,” Jane replied. “It is probably for the best. Elizabeth might be able to move on in life after a few years, as the passage of time dulls most sorrows. It is easier to do so without children.”

  “Yes, it is one less complication,” Cynara agreed.

  Cynara and Jane both suddenly realized it was almost six in the evening. It had been a very pleasant afternoon. Cynara was very glad she had bumped into Jane. It made her feel she now had a friend in York. They exchanged mobile phone numbers and Jane promised to look her up after the end of term. She was going to be terribly busy the next week with exams. Cynara thanked Jane for her candidness regarding George and Elizabeth. The background provided her better insight into her employer.

  “It must have been such a horrifying ordeal for Mrs. Stewart to lose her husband, that too in such a violent manner. And she must have felt so sickened when she realized the terrorist had been their own chauffeur, living on their estate in one of their own cottages,” Cynara commented.

  “Another cousin of mine, Ruth, knew Jimmy since they were children. She does not think he was a terrorist. He was the bomber but not a terrorist!” Jane exclaimed.

  Cynara was quite surprised by Jane’s remarks. Before she could ask for any clarifications, Jane regretfully looked at her watch again and told Cynara she really had to leave. They parted ways and Cynara walked to the bus stop to catch a bus back to the cottage. She was quite puzzled by what Jane had said. If Jimmy was not a terrorist then why did he go to the races strapped with a bomb and blow himself up along with all those people?

  Chapter 3

  June 2nd, 2014, was a new beginning for Cynara, the start of her first real job. She had set her alarm for 7 am. After waking up, she ate a hearty breakfast. She did not want to be distracted by hunger pangs on this momentous day. Taking time to choose her outfit, she finally settled for a light brown suede dress, which was formal but not excessively so. Cynara did not want to look too young or gauche. After a quick shower, she dressed and tied her hair in a ponytail with a shell clip that had belonged to her mother. She put on a light lipstick and just a touch of mascara to highlight her clear green eyes. The effect was quite pleasing and businesslike.

  Cynara now felt ready to face the day. She hoped it proved to be quite ordinary, after the sensational revelations of the weekend. Cynara had been very surprised by Jane’s parting remark. Quite cryptic! Did Jane really know something more or was it mere speculation? There must have been a lot of conjecture in Yorkshire about the entire incident. After reaching home and thinking about the bombing for a long time, Cynara had decided to not let it affect her next few months. She was generally a levelheaded person and was now determined that the past should not hinder her future here in York.

  Cynara walked to the manor house and rang the doorbell at exactly 8 a.m. Mr. Drake, the butler, opened the door. Cynara entered the house. She extended her hand and said, “Hello Mr. Drake, nice to see you again. I moved in on Friday.”

  “I am well aware of that Ms. Walters,” he replied ignoring her hand. “Mrs. Stewart has asked you to wait in the study. She will be with you shortly. Please follow me.”

  Mr. Drake really was very austere looking, almost expressionless. He ushered Cynara through the hallway into the study. It was a beautiful room with bookshelves adorning the walls. There were comfortable leather sofas around a fireplace and a desk made from mahogany wood in one corner. The room had a very cheery atmosphere due to the light from two tall windows on either side of the fireplace. The study faced the front of the house. Cynara started browsing through the books in one of the shelves. They were all hardbound classics nicely arranged in an alphabetical order, according to their authors. She loved to read and decided she would ask Mrs. Stewart if she could borrow them.

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bsp; Mrs. Stewart walked into the room in a swirl of chiffon. She was wearing a simple dress in muted grey. Cynara realized how strikingly beautiful the young widow was. She was very slim, around 5’8’’, long blond hair almost down to her waist, deep blue soulful eyes, and arresting features. There was almost a regal air about her, her bearing and the way she carried herself. “Good Morning. I trust you are settled in comfortably Ms. Walters,” she remarked.

  “Yes thank you. It is a beautiful cottage. The kitchen is well stocked with all the necessary utensils and dishes. I made a few trips to the city and bought all the other items I need,” Cynara replied.

  “That is good to hear Ms. Walters,” she said.

  “Please call me Cynara,” Cynara requested.

  “All right Cynara. Let us get started. As I explained at the time of the interview, I was widowed about nine months ago and have not done any paperwork since. I need to get all my financial and personal documents organized,” Mrs. Stewart said.

  Mrs. Stewart walked to the computer on the desk and showed Cynara how to log in. She gave her a box full of USB pen drives. Mrs. Stewart first wanted Cynara to go through each drive and methodically transfer all the documents onto the computer in proper directories. After explaining how she wanted everything separated and catalogued, she left.

  Cynara selected a USB drive from the box. She inserted it into the computer and reviewed its contents. It contained about 150 or so files, Word documents and Excel spreadsheets. Cynara painstakingly ploughed through them. They were mostly bank statements or bank correspondence. Cynara created relevant folders on the computer, a parent directory for banks, and then a subdirectory for each specific bank. The Stewarts seemed to have accounts in multiple banks. She copied over each bank statement into its correct sub-folder and renamed it according to the date on the statement. There were a few electronic utility bills as well. She copied those into individual folders based on the type of the bill. It was a tedious task but she did not mind.

  Mrs. Simpson, the housekeeper, walked into the room just as the clock struck twelve. She greeted Cynara pleasantly and invited her for lunch. Cynara was still not finished with the first pen drive. There were about five documents left. Before taking Cynara to the kitchen, Mrs. Simpson gave her a tour of the downstairs. There was a formal living room, a formal dining room, a second living room, a music room, a conservatory, the study, a billiards room, a ballroom, and a smaller sitting room adjoining the kitchen. Cynara felt she was back in the Victorian era. All the rooms were beautifully designed and richly furnished.

  The kitchen was large with a round table at one end. Mrs. Simpson explained that the staff mostly dined there. The cook, Mrs. Keene, was a large woman with a sweet motherly face. She greeted Cynara warmly and asked her to help Mrs. Simpson set the table. Mr. Drake joined them just as they were carrying the dishes. They all sat down to a well-laid meal in front of them.

  Cynara enjoyed the lunch, sandwiches, soup and salad, and the conversation. They were a talkative bunch. She learnt that Mrs. Keene and her husband, the gardener, lived in the cottage bordering the west wall of the estate. Mr. Keene usually ate in their cottage and joined them on special occasions. They had no children. Mr. Drake and Mrs. Simpson resided in the manor house, on the top floor. They each had their own set of rooms. These used to be the original servant quarters from the late nineteenth century, which had been converted into two suites after the Second World War. Mr. Drake was a bachelor and had always inhabited one of the suites. Mrs. Simpson used to occupy Cynara’s cottage but had moved into the other suite after being widowed about five years ago. Her husband had died of lung cancer. She had a son who lived in Leeds and visited her occasionally.

  After they finished, Cynara helped in clearing the table. She enquired about Mrs. Stewart’s lunch. “I took up some soup for her earlier,” Mrs. Simpson replied. “She has a very small appetite and does not eat much. I do not know if you are aware, but Mr. Stewart died very tragically last year. Mrs. Stewart has still not fully recovered from it.”

  “Yes I did hear of the suicide bombing at the races and that Mr. Stewart was one of the victims,” Cynara said sympathetically.

  “She is still mourning his death. Hiring you has been very wise, trying to get all her affairs in order. She has to return to the land of the living. It takes time,” Mrs. Simpson said. “I know after Johnny died from that cancer, I was really broken hearted. But Mrs. Stewart was very good to me. She really supported me emotionally and forced me to overcome my grief. We are all trying to do the same for her.”

  Cynara returned to the study and proceeded with her work. She had been very inclined to question Mrs. Simpson about Jimmy. However, she did not want to create a wrong impression and seem like she was gossiping. Therefore, she had resisted the temptation. As she opened the next document, Mrs. Stewart entered the room and asked, “How are things going?”

  “Good. I am almost done with the first thumb drive. I have created directories on the computer and am filing everything in its appropriate folder. Majority of the files are bank related,” Cynara replied.

  “If you are unable to understand a document, just save it in a miscellaneous folder and we will go through them together. Have you had lunch?” Mrs. Stewart asked.

  “Yes thank you,” Cynara answered. “Mrs. Simpson took me to the kitchen at noon.”

  “You can work till about five and then call it a day. I am going out and will see you tomorrow.” Mrs. Stewart pulled the door shut behind her as she left the study.

  Cynara finished all the documents on the first USB drive. She then labeled it with a sticky tag and placed it in the top drawer of the desk. Cynara decided to ask Mrs. Stewart for another box for the processed thumb drives. She did not want them being mixed up with the ones she still needed to go through. It had taken her all morning to complete just one. Cynara took another USB stick from the box and inserted it into the computer. She started sorting through the documents. They seemed to be similar to the ones on the first drive. She worked non-stop until about four o’ clock when Mrs. Simpson came in with a tea tray.

  “Take a break and have a cup my dear,” she said. “You can bring the tray back to the kitchen after you are done.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Cynara said gratefully.

  Cynara poured herself a cup from the teapot and added some milk and sugar. There was a plateful of ginger biscuits. She helped herself to a few and drank slowly. Her eyes ached a bit from concentrating so hard on the computer screen. She massaged them gently. After finishing her tea, Cynara picked up the tray and took it back to the kitchen. She found Mrs. Keene sitting at the table and drinking a cup herself. Cynara thanked her and went back to the study.

  Cynara wrapped up the second thumb drive after about half an hour. It was only 4:45 and she did not think it appropriate to leave before 5 p.m. on her first day. Cynara decided to start on the next USB. She selected another one from the box. It strangely contained only two files, one with no file extension and another with a file extension she was not familiar with. Cynara managed to open the first file in a text editor. It seemed to be a letter or an email.

  “Dear Jimmy,

  Greetings my friend. Hope this email finds you well. I am very happy to hear about the girl also wanting to convert. If you trust her then so do I. I know you will never put me in any danger. Both of you can convert by reciting the Testimony of Faith, the Shahada. You can do this privately at home or go to an Imam at a Mosque. The Imam in Bradford is a holy man. He can help you achieve this. Do not mention me. He did not agree with my ideology. It might be safest to our cause if you do this privately. You can buy the Quran, prayer rug, and any other materials you need at the Muslim store. I welcome you both to our brethren. May it bring you peace. We will talk soon, inshallah.

  Abaan Khalid Fakhri”

  Cynara sat there stunned and read the note again. How was an email to Jimmy, presumably the same Jimmy as the bomber, saved on a pen drive in Mrs. Stewart’s box? It confounded
her. She tried to open the second file multiple times but a message popped up at each attempt that the file format was unrecognizable. Cynara finally pulled out the drive and carefully placed it in the drawer. She then shut down the machine and left the study.

  Mrs. Simpson was walking down the stairs and spotted her. “Are you leaving my dear?” she asked.

  “Yes Mrs. Simpson. Is Mrs. Stewart back yet? I wanted to talk to her before going.” Cynara felt compelled to immediately share her findings with her employer.

  “No she is visiting her in-laws. Senior Mr. Stewart is not well. She is going to have dinner with them and will not be back till late,” Mrs. Simpson replied.

  “I am then done for the day and will see you tomorrow.” Cynara let herself out and slowly walked to the cottage. Her mind was very puzzled. She badly wanted to call Charles but it was the middle of the night in Perth. They were seven hours ahead. She remembered the computer in her bedroom and decided to check the facts on the bombing. Mrs. Stewart had told her the Wi-Fi connection in the house also worked in the cottages. She booted up the computer and launched Internet Explorer. The search page loaded. There was internet connectivity.