* * * * *
One week after Ari’s discovery, they brought the little girl to the back of the house. The scent of fresh plaster and paint permeated the air.
Both nervous and excited, Claire stood in front of a plain wooden door and unlocked it. Then, with a deep breath, she turned to Kelsey, bending to her eye level. Though the child didn’t respond, or even acknowledge her, Claire spoke to her as if she could hear and understand everything.
“Honey, we know you’ve gone through one of the worst things imaginable, but we’re all here to help you. I know you’ve been hiding away in a land called Tedanalee. It sounds like a beautiful and wonderful place to help you cope with the pain of this world. But honey, Tedanalee isn’t real and I think deep inside you know that. You can’t stay hidden away there forever. We want you to come back to us.”
She opened the door and guided Kelsey inside. It was a 12 x 12 foot room with white bleached hardwood floors and walls painted a stark white. In the center of the room were buckets of paint in a multitude of colors, along with numerous tubes of oil paints, brushes in varying sizes, water soluble pencils and crayons as well.
Claire faced the child, again bending down so their eyes were only inches apart. “Kelsey, this is your room to do with as you will. You can do whatever you want in here, whatever you feel like. You can paint the entire room black, or yellow or green. You can dump all the paint on the floor, write curse words or hateful things, anything you want. You can even put holes in the walls and break the door. I promise you that you won’t get into trouble. Never, ever. This room is your Tedanalee in this world, your safe haven, a bridge to help you back to this reality. Please honey, come back to us.”
Claire stood up. “I’m going to leave now. Do whatever you wish in here.”
She left the room and closed the door. Martin stood outside it, hesitant. “Do you think she’ll actually do anything?”
Claire put her ear to the door and shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s give her some time.”
They sat down on the floor in the hallway to wait. For a full ten minutes there was nothing but silence and they were about to give up hope, when they heard light footsteps on the wooden floor coming from inside the room. Claire peeked under the doorframe and saw Kelsey bend down to pick up a paintbrush. She held it in front of her face, staring at it, her expression unreadable.
Claire turned back to her husband, triumph in her eyes. “Let’s let her be.” They got up and moved into the family room.
Nearly three hours later Kelsey stood in the doorway to the family room, covered from head to toe in black and red paint. Claire had been reading a psychology journal on the couch, Martin and Ari played chess, and seven-year old Patricia was reading a book.
Claire stared at the child, noting the differences. Her blue eyes were now clear and focused, but desolate. Her lips quivered when she spoke.
“I’m done,” Kelsey said. Her voice was so soft Claire had to strain to hear her.
Claire slowly rose and inched over to the child, bending down gradually so as not to startle her. “I’m so glad, honey.” She stared at Kelsey, who was stiff, her hands rigid at her sides and her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. Suddenly, the child rushed forward into Claire’s arms and sobbed uncontrollably. Claire hugged her fiercely, ignoring the paint sticking to her clothing and her hair, holding her for hours until the child cried herself out.
After they cleaned her up and put her to bed that night they went into the back room to see what Kelsey had created. Claire couldn’t process what she saw and didn’t understand the drawings Kelsey had made of at least twenty dead little girls, each and every one being tortured in the most horrific of ways.
Claire had nightmares for weeks after that.
The child was damaged and distressed, but at least she was back.
Chapter 7
BAZAAR’S
Bazaar was a private club located on a quiet tree-lined street in the middle of a residential block in Chelsea. You could faintly hear the deep beating bass from the gay bar on the corner where gorgeous muscled men in tight designer jeans and expensive shirts moved in pairs down the street. The entrance to Bazaar’s, via a basement doorway of an elegant brownstone, led one into a world time seemed to have forgotten. Privy only to those allowed entrance by Reginald Shevchek, the present owner and great grandson of the first proprietor, Baron Maxim Shevchek.
Maxim had been a former concert violinist in the USSR. He had also been a spy for the United States. When his comrades finally came looking for him, he quickly defected, whisked himself to the US, and created a place of refuge for those who “knew more than they should.” It was a safe haven for those both in and outside the government who worked “around the law,” though their efforts were always at the agenda of helping the United States.
Ari Goldman, Kelsey’s brother, had been contacted by Reginald a few years back to reclaim a set of letters that had once belonged to his great grandfather. One of Ari’s former clients, an ex-agent from the CIA, knew of his uncanny abilities in surveillance and ops, and even at his young age, he recommended him to Reginald for the job.
The letters had been intended for a Senator on the actions the KGB was committing. A museum in Prague had refused to part with the set and Ari had assisted Shevchek in “acquiring it.” Reginald’s family was an intensely private one and it mortified him that the letters were displayed in the public domain for all to see.
It had been child’s play. Kelsey and Josh had been on scene. They disabled the cameras with some fun new lasers Ari had gotten from the Middle East, and broke into the museum. The letters were now in the hands of Shevchek and he was forever in Ari’s debt. Now Ari, and those who had helped acquire those letters, were honorary members of the club.
* * * * *
Kelsey turned back to Bazaar and balancing a tray on her left leg and a large shoulder bag filled with drinks, she grasped the bronze knocker, striking it three times.
Reginald himself opened the massive, mahogany door with a warm, wrinkled smile and his perfectly appointed Italian tuxedo and tails.
“Miss Porter, always a pleasure. They’re already waiting for you in the back room. May I assist you?” His handlebar mustache twitched when he spoke.
Together they made their way through the luxuriously decorated space. Sumptuous runners covered the sparkling hardwood floors and dark cherry wood adorned every archway and staircase banister. Original oil paintings from the early Renaissance era hung in ornate gold and silver frames in the richly wallpapered rooms. It had the distinctive feel of a men’s club. Thick, deep plush arm chairs, leather couches and the smell of expensive cigars and cognac wafted through the rooms.
Pushing aside a set of red velvet curtains, Kelsey moved into the private back room. Five smiling faces greeted her warmly from around a massive cherry wood table.
“It’s about time you got here,” Julia said, clapping her hands. “We’re starving! So, what did you bring us?”
“For someone so small, you’d never guess you eat like a cow,” Kelsey said.
“Oh, yeah, like you don’t,” Julia said, but she blushed profusely.
Kelsey glanced to the food. It was her turn for the embellishments this evening and the group traditionally settled on a specific theme each time. Based on the success of the recent mission, Tibet was definitely the order of the night.
These Tuesday night get-togethers started right after the Shevchek job four years prior and every fourth Tuesday whoever could make it would come.
Reginald stepped from behind Kelsey and placed the large round serving tray on the table. Meanwhile Kelsey started pulling dishes out from her bag.
As the wrappings came off, her friends leaned in expectantly and her heart nearly burst with joy. She loved each and every one of them fiercely. Here she could be exactly who she was. No one judged her, no one expected her to dumb herself down. They were her lifeline, her family and her own Knights Templar. There were to
o many people in the world she simply had to put up with on a daily basis, but these people weren’t them.
“So, based on recent events,” Kelsey began. “I thought it only fitting we honor the Buddhists the proper way.” She pointed out the delicacies. “This is a sampling of Tsampa with yak butter, over here is a course of dried mutton, and in this dish is a heaping bowl of Momo, which I got for you, Dennis.” She glanced kindly at a slip of a man who grinned back at her. His mop of dark curls bobbed around his face as he leaned in to peer at the dishes. Dennis’s glasses slid down his nose and he pushed them up as he grabbed a dumpling and popped it into his mouth.
He nodded and chewed enthusiastically.
Knew you’d like them. Dennis was one of Kelsey’s best friends since the sixth grade. Not to mention he was also their group’s resident computer programmer and one of the best hackers in the country.
She continued, pointing. “I also brought an order of Thenthuk, which are Tibetan noodles.”
Julia squinted and picked at the dishes with chopsticks. “I never had the yak tongue before. Just tell me it’s not like balut.” She turned her glare to Seung, who just laughed at her.
Kelsey waved her off. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing like balut. First of all, it’s yak, not duck and I tasted it at the restaurant. It’s as good as if you’d eaten it right off the grasslands.”
Kelsey glanced at her brother Ari, a mix of emotions running through her. Ever since she had joined their family, their relationship had been complicated. She loved him dearly, but he was so damned obnoxious and condescending. On the flip side, he was also ridiculously protective of her and their fights about it had been vicious over the years.
“So, did you at least remember to bring the wine?” he asked, sarcastically.
You, obnoxious little nit. “Like I would forget your precious drinks? Yeah, I’ve got them. It wouldn’t be Tibet if we didn’t have salted butter tea, barley beer and Baijiu. That’s a barley wine the Tibetans call white spirit, if you didn’t know, smartass.” She handed to the bottle to a waiter, who poured the wine for Ari to taste.
He swirled the liquid in his glass and sniffed. He took a sip and let it settle on his tongue, and nodded at the waiter. “It’s actually excellent. Hey, Porter, you going to try some, this time?” he teased, arching his eyebrows.
Kelsey wrinkled her nose. “I’ll pass. I’ll just stick with the tea.”
He smirked. Okay, he had one thing on her. She had no palate for alcohol. So kill her.
The other guests were comprised of individuals who had entered Ari and Kelsey’s lives during their academy years. Kelsey couldn’t help laughing at Julia, who was presently unceremoniously shoving her beautiful face into a heaping mound of noodles, her hand holding a section of her long, flaming red hair so it wouldn’t fall into the bowl. That girl was as lithe as a dancer, but had the table manners of a teenage boy.
Seung called out to her. “Hey, Kelsey, you’re not holding out on me, are you? I know you’ve got something else hidden in that bag you’re carrying.”
Oh, I certainly do, my friend. Kelsey pulled out a final plastic container, pushing it towards him. She was looking forward to making him squirm. “You think I’d forget about getting you one of the most disgusting ethnic delicacies I could find?” Seung was always looking to try new things. Nothing seemed to phase him. Well, if duck with caterpillar fungus didn’t do the trick this time, nothing would.
His excitement made his dark brown eyes shine and he leaned over to take a peek at the dish. Kelsey loved watching him. He was so enthusiastic and singular in his appearance with his exotic Asian good looks and his straight, glossy black hair that cascaded down his back and reached the waistband of his tight black jeans.
“You know, when you move, you think you sound tough, but you really sound like a chorus of jingle bells with all those belt chains rattling around you,” Julia said, between chews. “Like a little Christmas Elf, or something.”
Seung grabbed his chopsticks and dug into the bowl. “And a ho, ho, ho to you, too. It’s so you’ll know when I’m sneaking up behind you, Jules.” He took a bite and nodded. “Not bad, Kelsey. Tender, kind of sweet, even with the ginger and onions, but then again, I’ve had this before.” His eyes twinkled behind the black eyeliner.
“You have?” I can’t surprise this guy!
He nodded. “Caterpillar fungus, or cordyceps of you want to be more specific, is supposed to be an aphrodisiac. Melie thought we should give it a try one evening, though I can assure you I didn’t need it.”
Joshua shook his head. “Kelsey, you can’t put one over on him.”
“No, I apparently can’t.” She watched Joshua dig into the yak tongue. He was a one man colossal of muscle, bravado, and sheer passion and was Ari’s best friend from the moment they had met at the academy. Kelsey knew if there was ever anyone who would survive Armageddon, it would be Joshua. Working with him on assignments was such a rush because he could keep up with her, both physically and mentally. Not a lot of guys could do that. Unfortunately, he was also a pain in the ass the way he hit on her whenever he had the chance. Not that she didn’t wonder why she didn’t take him up on it. It wasn’t like she wasn’t attracted to him, too. He was cute, and sexy, and perfect for her, but something always stopped her from taking that next step.
There’s something so very wrong with me. On the outside she appeared to be a sexual dynamo, but for some reason, every time she had the opportunity to be with a guy for more than just the casual kissing or foreplay, something deep within her pulled her back. She didn’t understand it at all, unless it was because of her attack when she was ten. Yes, that has to be it. So, at twenty-two, she was still technically a virgin, something Ari thankfully didn’t tease her about. He seemed to be pretty pleased about it, actually.
She turned to her brother, who was staring at her over his wineglass. He was tall and dark, with handsome Sephardic good looks, and he really did know her better than anyone else on the planet. A computer and business genius, at the tender age of nineteen the guy had quit Harvard and took over a fledgling revenue and profit sharing company. Within five years, he had turned it into a multi-million dollar enterprise, working with the top Fortune 500 companies across the globe. That was just one of his jobs and just a cover. The real thrill was in the freelance assignments, like what he had done for Shevchek and of course, what he was doing for her now.
After her attack, Kelsey had moved in with Ari’s family. It had taken her brilliant brother awhile to comprehend and accept that the little spit of a girl who came to live with him might just be as smart as he was. Or smarter. She remembered the first time he realized it.
* * * * *
“Dad, this thing’s not working!” Frustrated, twelve-year old Ari threw the manual on the couch in disgust, where it bounced and fell to the floor.
Martin glanced up from the circuit board. “Having a tantrum isn’t going to fix the problem. Now, go pick it up.”
They had built an incredible structure, four feet across and three feet high. A complex system of electrical networks, when assembled together properly, would make a train move up a slope and give it enough juice to circle around the architecture. There were hundreds of different circuits and breakers and battery-operated fuse boxes, and it had taken them the good part of two days putting the unit together. But, the train wouldn’t run and for the past hour they couldn’t figure out where they’d gone wrong. Whenever they flicked the switch, the train would just sit there.
Kelsey had been with them for a little over two months by this time and watched them from the doorway. “Can I help?” she asked.
Eyebrows raised in contempt, Ari snorted. “I don’t think so.”
“Ari, hold your tongue.” Martin turned to Kelsey, nodding towards the couch. “Sure, Kelsey. The manual’s over there if you want to give it a try.”
Kelsey moved over to the thick instruction guide, limping slightly, and began reading, to much chortling by A
ri.
When she was finished ten minutes later, she moved slowly over to the structure and stared at it intently for a few minutes. Martin and Ari watched her cock her head this way and that for quite some time, considering, before she swiftly moved her hand deep inside, switched a set of breakers and then hit the switch.
Martin and Ari sat dumbstruck as the train started to slowly chug up the slope.
Kelsey turned to Ari. “Next time, I won’t help you if you’re going to be mean to me, you big stupid know-it-all.” With that, she turned in a huff and limped from the room.
A week later the Goldma’s started testing her and shortly after that, Martin and Claire contacted the academy.
* * * * *
Julia finally spoke up. “So, Kelsey. Tell us about Desmond.”
She felt their gazes upon her. She took another sip of tea and stared at Ari over the rim of the cup. He watched her intently, his brows furrowed. “As you know, we missed a camera.”
She enjoyed watching Ari click his tongue in disgust. “That wasn’t my fault. It was a camera this rogue cop added. How could we possibly have known he had his own sting going on?” She could tell he was mad and embarrassed. He hated when things went wrong when he was responsible. Not that it humbled him much.
Kelsey shrugged. “The problem is, he knows I took the disc and even though he’s not a hundred percent certain any longer that I’m the girl in Miami, I don’t think he’s going to go away so easily.”
“Well, we have the disc, so I wouldn’t worry about him getting it,” Ari said.
Julia reached over to grab the wine bottle and poured herself a glass. “Say what you will, Ari, but the guy seems pretty persistent. He could make things really difficult for her. He could decide to charge her for the crime, bring her into the spotlight, or even try to threaten her to give him what he needs. You know, he hit her. Smacked her right in the face in the middle of the museum.”
The Hunt for Xanadu Page 5
