Ransom

by Belle Ami

Considerable relief filled Cyrus as he waited for their celebration to wind down. They were all talking at once, claiming “I told you so.”

  A buzz from the satellite phone linked exclusively to Tel Aviv distracted Elon from the celebration. His gaze grew somber as he listened. “Yes, sir. I’ll see to it.” He handed Cyrus the phone. “You might want to take this in the other room.”

  Cyrus took the phone and walked into the adjacent bedroom. “Hassani here.”

  The Ramsad’s tone was compassionate, something Cyrus had never heard from him before. “Cyrus, there’s been a bus bombing here in Tel Aviv.” As the Ramsad filled him in his hand shook so badly he nearly dropped the phone.

  “Fuck!” He sank to his knees. It felt like a sledgehammer had hit him in the chest. He couldn’t breathe, could barely eke out the words. “Are they okay?” He closed his eyes, and grabbed the bridge of his nose, fighting to keep it together. Tears streamed down his face, and he felt a dark stain form beneath his armpits. Guilt at not being there for Layla and Cerise assuaged him. How many times would he place his family in danger?

  He dragged himself to his feet and sank into a chair, his chest heaving as he forced out the words. “How is Layla?” His world was crumbling around him as the pain of what she must be feeling pierced his heart. I wasn’t there…I wasn’t there for her. It was hard even to comprehend what the Ramsad was saying. “We’re doing all we can for her. We’re bringing you home for twenty-four hours. Ben will accompany you. I’m sorry it can’t be longer, but you must complete this mission.

  “For safety, we’re moving your family to the safe house at Ramat Hasharon. The one Layla lived in with Aleck after you rescued her from Iran. Her grandparents are moving in with her to help with Cerise.”

  “I can’t believe this.” However much guilt he felt wouldn’t change a thing. He needed to compartmentalize his guilt and focus on a solution. “Who did this? I want to see his face. He has to pay.”

  “Everything is being transmitted to Elon. In the meantime, you and Ben will be flying commercial to Cyprus tonight and escorted by the Cyprians to a private jet. It’s all arranged. No paperwork, no questions.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Cyrus, we think this terrorist was acting under direct orders from Soleimani. Neither the mullahs nor the Quds force has forgotten your treason. This kind of depraved act, targeting a mother and her child, smells like revenge.”

  Cyrus felt hatred surge through his veins like molten lava. “There is going to be revenge, I promise you.”

  “Temper your fury. Focus on Layla and Cerise. Stopping these bastards is all that matters. The right place and the right time will present itself for you to exact your revenge.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We’ll speak when you’re home. Fly safe.”

  »»•««

  Ramat Hasharon, Israel

  At ten p.m. a black SUV with dark tinted windows pulled up to the gates of a two-story Mediterranean villa in a quiet neighborhood in Ramat Hasharon. The driver of the SUV entered a code, and the gate slid open. Cyrus emerged from the back seat carrying an overnight bag. Before he reached the front door, Layla’s grandmother pulled it open.

  “It’s about time you made your appearance.” She turned her cheek up for his kiss.

  Dina never minced words. In the beginning, he’d assumed from her pointed looks, cool reception, and feigned indifference, she disapproved of him. But time had taught him it was just her way. Holocaust survivors often skipped the niceties, getting straight to the point. Enough of their time had been stolen from them. When he thought Layla had died in the restaurant bombing in New York, Dina had kicked his ass for losing faith. The old woman had assured him Layla was alive. Her positivity had kept him from falling apart. He valued her advice more than any other.

  “Good to see you too, Dina.” The old girl might look frail, but she’s tough as nails. A terrorist’s bomb isn’t going to bring her down.

  “Where’s Layla? I need to see her now.”

  “She’s resting. I need to speak with you before you talk to her. Prepare you for her mental state.”

  He looked up the stairs longing to race up and find her. Hold her. But instead, he followed as Dina shuffled to the kitchen, her bedroom slippers slapping at her heels. He made a mental note to buy her a new pair, something frivolous and girlie when he returned from Beirut.

  He sat at the kitchen table, and she brought him a steaming cup of tea and a slice of lemon cake. “You’re going to need fortification.”

  “That bad?”

  “Not good. Feeling sorry for herself.” She shook her head, wiping away a tear. It was a rare display of emotion. “Understandable, of course. She was looking forward to this baby.” She sat in the seat next to him.

  He hung his head and looked into his teacup. His hand shook as he raised it to his lips. He felt crippled by guilt. “We’ll have more.”

  Dina nodded. “She’s not thinking of other children, she’s thinking of the one she’s lost. You’re going to have your hands full.”

  His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I don’t have much time to make this right. I have to go back tomorrow night.”

  “I know, they told me.”

  “Is she going to understand?”

  “I don’t know…probably not.”

  “What do you suggest I do?”

  Dina covered his hand with hers. He glanced down at the blue-veins forming plump ridges on her paper-thin skin. He raised his eyes to her face, the fragility of her body in complete contrast to the resilience in her gaze.

  “Listen and comfort her. Listen and love her. Above all else, listen and agree with her then do what you have to do. She loves you, Cyrus, she’ll come around. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, but in her heart, she loves only you.”

  “Thank you, Dina.” He bent and kissed her hand.

  She patted his head. “You’re a good man, Cyrus. Don’t let my redheaded granddaughter’s temper get under your skin.”

  “I’ll try, but she’s pretty good at stoking my anger. I guess that’s part of the heat we generate for each other. Tell me, how’s Cerise?”

  Dina’s eyes lit up. “Ah, she is a mini-me, or maybe she’s a mini you. A true thinker, rational and unemotional. The child lets nothing obscure her vision.” A smile tickled her lips, “or her purpose. Nothing can stifle her will to live.”

  He could feel his heart swell with pride. “Cerise is something special.” He took a last bite of cake and emptied his tea. “Where is Layla?”

  “Upstairs, second door on the left. We didn’t tell her you were coming. I thought it would be better if she didn’t think too much about it.”

  “I guess I can either expect open arms or a shoe thrown at me.”

  Dina chuckled. “Keep your head down.”

  Cyrus took the stairs two at a time and then paused to calm his racing pulse. The bedroom was draped in darkness. He waited for his eyes to adjust. From the bed, Layla called. “I’m fine Savta. Go to bed.”

  He cleared his throat. “Sheereen-am, it’s me.”

  Layla turned on her side and rose to her elbow. “Cyrus?”

  There was a bandage wrapped around her head. He dropped his bag and rushed to her side, and tried to gather her in his arms, but she pushed him away. “Don’t touch me.”

  “I’m so sorry, eshgham. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

  Like water breaching a levee, the tears poured from her. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. “It’s your fault. The bus—the baby—Cerise. You did this! Always believing you can save the world. Well, guess what? You weren’t here to save us.”

  He went rigid. He knew she didn’t mean what she said, but she might as well have attacked him with a knife. “Layla, you shouldn’t say things you’ll regret later. You know I’d do anything to make it all go away. I wish—” He tried to find the words, the magic bullet capable of healing her broken heart. Sorry wasn’t enough to make her f
orgive him, but sorry was all he had to give her. She was right. He’d failed her. He’d promised Dina he’d remain calm and let the words roll off his back, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t listen. He didn’t want to lose his temper. He didn’t want to return her venom. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

  »»•««

  Layla couldn’t stop the tears. She’d tried to be brave for Cerise and her grandparents. She hadn’t broken down in front of them. But emptiness and loss held her in its grip, imprisoning her in a cage of hopelessness. But when Cyrus walked through the door the storm of self-pity she’d been brewing inside since the bombing, released in a deluge.

  When she was exhausted from the crying, she fell asleep. She didn’t know how long she slept. She looked at the clock and read two a.m. She sat up and looked around the room. Cyrus sat in a chair hunched over, his head resting in his hands. Has he been sitting there for hours?

  “Cyrus?”

  His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Yes, eshgham.”

  “I’m sorry—the things I said were inexcusable.”

  “No, you’re right.”

  She held out her arms to him. “Please, forgive me. You know how toxic I can be when I lose my temper.”

  With trembling fingers, he brushed back his hair. “I never had a temper until I met you. Always cold and calculating. You make me feel alive, human. Only you can spark my anger and guilt. I become a trigger on a gun, once pressed I fire.”

  “Oh, Cyrus. I can’t bear the thought of doing that to you.”

  “You’re so deep inside of me, so much a part of me, I’d rather fight with you than agree with anyone else.” Before she could respond, he’d gathered her up in his arms.

  She slumped against him, shivering. “I’ve been so scared.” She cracked like an eggshell, the pain like a yolk spilling from her. “It was horrible…the bus…the bodies, and Cerise seeing…”

  She felt him shudder against her. Looking up wild-eyed, she placed her hands on his stubbled cheeks. “It’s more my fault than yours.”

  He kissed her forehead. “No, my love, how can it be your fault. It’s me they wanted to hurt.”

  “No, you’re wrong. It’s because of me your cover in Iran was blown, and your life’s work ended. It’s because of me we had to flee, and you were discovered to be a spy. If it weren’t for me, none of this would have happened, and your name wouldn’t be on a kill list if you hadn’t destroyed your life trying to get me out of Iran.”

  “I don’t care. I wouldn’t change any of it. Finding you was my salvation. You melted the ice around my heart and taught me how to love.” Cyrus’s inner turmoil was written in his eyes. “I wish I could change what happened. I failed you, esghgam, and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.”

  She pressed herself deeper into his embrace. “Your being here now is all that matters. I’m so glad you’re here. I need you…Cerise needs you.”

  “Cerise will be fine, baby, she’s strong like you.”

  She shook her head. “No, not like me, like you, like Dina. My first thought when I felt the baby…lost the baby. I wanted to die. Then they freed me from the car, and I could see what that monster had done. It’s what I imagine a battlefield to look like, strewn with dead… the body parts…” She choked, remembering the horror. “I was ashamed. I was alive, and they weren’t. It reminded me of Savta, of what she must feel every day of her life as a survivor of the Holocaust. You can’t stop asking yourself why do I get to live?”

  He buried his face in her hair. “Never think that again, my love. There’s no guilt in living. Don’t you know what you mean to me? You’re my life, Layla. It kills me to hear you say these things.”

  “But, this baby was special, Cyrus. It was a miracle, our miracle.”

  “There will be other babies, other miracles. I know this sounds callous, and you know I don’t mean it to be. But we can’t know what God has in mind. We will have another child I promise you.”

  “I know you’re right, but it’s so painful to come to terms with losing a baby. One minute I was pregnant and the next minute I wasn’t.” She fought back the tears.

  “Shhh,” his hands soothed her back, gently rubbing the tension from it. When she’d calmed down, he lay her against the pillow. “I’m going to wash up. I’ll be right back.”

  Her hand caressed his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. Go. You must be exhausted.”

  »»•««

  Cyrus slept deeply with his arms and body wrapped around Layla. He’d patiently listened for hours to her, wiping away the tears, helping her navigate the sorrow of losing their child. Exhausted in the early hours of the morning they’d both fallen asleep cocooned in each other’s love.

  It was no wonder he didn’t hear the tread of small feet and was taken by surprise when Cerise threw herself onto the bed. “Daddy! You’re home.”

  Layla rolled over and grumbled. “Cerise, can’t you see we’re sleeping. At least don’t break my eardrums so early in the morning.”

  “But Ima, Daddy’s home and he’ll make you better. And you can make another…”

  Cyrus grabbed her into his arms before she could complete her sentence, putting his fingers to her lips he whispered shhhh…”

  Cerise nodded. “But, Aba…”

  He rolled out of bed with her in his arms and carried her into the bathroom. Closing the door, he put the toilet seat down and set her on it. “Mommy’s tired, baby, she needs to sleep a little longer.” He lifted her face inspecting the fine line of stitches from the bombing. “Tell me about your booboo.”

  “Oh, Daddy, you wouldn’t have liked it. There was a loud kaboom, and the car flew in the air, and the bus exploded.” She stuck her lower lip out. “I wasn’t brave. I cried a little.”

  He kneeled in front of her. “Just because you cried doesn’t mean you’re not brave, metuka. Even daddies cry sometimes. It’s good to cry. Mommy cried a lot last night, and we both know how brave she is.”

  “Mommy’s been sad. I think we have to get her another baby.”

  He smiled. Cerise had a way of seeing things in a clear, unmuddied way. She always saw a simple solution to a complex situation. “We will, sweetie, but it has to be at the right time. Mommy has to recover first, and she’s going to need your help.”

  “What can I do, Daddy?”

  “Here’s your job.”

  “You’re giving me a job?”

  “Yes, I’m the general, and you’re the soldier. Your duty as my aide is to carry out my orders.”

  She knit her brows. “Okay, what do I do?”

  “I’m going to have to leave tonight and finish the job I’m on, so I’m leaving you in charge of Mommy. Your job is to be the best you can be. No waking her up when she’s sleeping, and you make sure no one else wakes her up either.”

  “You mean like savta and saba?”

  “Exactly. You make sure Grandma and Grandpa don’t wake her too early. She needs to heal and regain her strength.”

  “What else, Daddy?”

  “I want you to figure out ways to make her laugh.”

  “You mean like doing somersaults, or making funny faces.”

  “Those are all good. Draw funny pictures, too. But no tickling, that’s cheating.”

  “I like when you tickle me.”

  He was tempted to tickle her but was afraid it would disturb Layla. “You might hurt Mommy’s tummy.”

  “Why do you have to leave again?”

  “Baby, your daddy does a lot of things to help people, and sometimes he has to go far away to do them. But when I come home this time, I promise it’s going to be a long time before I go away again.”

  “You promise.”

  “Give me your pinkie finger.” He entwined his finger with hers. “Now, you promise to be the best girl for your mommy and I’ll promise to come home and not leave for a long time.”

  “Okay. I promise.”

  “Now close your eyes.” He bent and kissed her
finger. “Now open your eyes and kiss my finger.” She did.

  “We’ve made a sacred promise we have to keep. Now quietly tiptoe through the bedroom, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen as soon as I get washed up and dressed. Tell Savta Daddy’s starving. You know how much she likes to feed us.” He put his fingers to his lips. “Remember, tiptoe.”

  He opened the door and watched Cerise run on tiptoe out of the room, trailing giggles in her wake. He thought about his promise to her and prayed he’d be able to keep it. He wanted nothing more than to watch her grow from day to day; to see her become all she could be. He wanted that for her, and he wanted it for all children. If the time came when he’d be called upon again to safeguard his daughter’s future and it meant breaking his promise to her, he knew he’d do it. It was a sacred task, and nothing would prevent him from fulfilling it.

  »»•««

  Cyrus carried a tray upstairs to Layla. Dina had made her favorite goat cheese omelet, pastries, fresh cut up fruit, orange juice, and coffee, which she hoped would tempt her granddaughter into eating. Since her release from the hospital, Layla had barely touched any food. Cyrus kneed the door to the bedroom open.

  “Good morning, baby. I hope you’re hungry, Dina went all out for you.”

  Layla sat up in bed. “She’s worried, I haven’t been eating much.”

  “Well she’s right, you need to eat and get your strength back.” He placed the tray table over her legs and sat on the edge of the bed next to her. He leaned in and stole a kiss. “How do you wake up looking like the most beautiful woman in the world? What’s your secret?”

  “Stop trying to cheer me up.”

  He picked up the fork and handed it to her. “If you don’t start eating by yourself I’m going to feed you.”

  Layla took the fork and took a small bite. “It is good.”

  “I ate enough to feed a small army. More, please.”

  “Did you come home so you could play the mother?”

  “I came home because the woman I love needed me.”

  “How’s Beirut?” She took another bite and a sip of juice.

  “The mission is moving ahead, but there’s still much to be done.”

  “In other words, you can’t tell me anything.”