One of the conditions of her retirement was that she had to change her identity. Sara Savage, code name Nightshade, became Martha Miller, a clerk at a flower shop in Midtown Kansas City.
“Mom has been adjusting pretty well,” Veronica continued, “but going from traveling the world as a spy to being a clerk in a flower shop is quite a drastic change. She is suspicious of everyone by nature, so it’s been difficult for her to make new friends. I’ve tried to get her to go out, maybe even date, but she’s convinced all men are creeps and wants nothing to do with the dating scene. I see her every chance I get, but I know she must be lonesome. I think Clarence would be perfect for her.”
I looked at Maggie who had been listening intently. “I could live with that,” she said. “At least Clarence would still be in the family and I could see him now and then.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Then it’s settled,” I said. “Tomorrow, we’ll pay Sara --- err --- I mean Martha --- a visit, and hope she’s open to the idea.”
The next day, with Clarence in tow, we headed to Belinda’s Blossoms on Main in the Crossroads District.
Martha was understandably surprised when the four of us plus the cat entered the store.
“Good Lord!” she said, smiling. “Have I done something wrong? Is this an intervention?”
“No, Mom,” Veronica replied, giving her a hug. “We’ve brought you a present.”
“Really! What kind of a ---?” Then she saw the cat in his carrier. “Not that I hope!”
“Mom,” Veronica protested, “don’t say no until you meet him. Clarence is a sweetheart.”
“I don’t need a sweetheart. I’m getting along just fine.”
“Sure you are,” Kevin replied, sarcastically. “When was the last time you went out? When was the last time you had someone at your apartment?”
“That’s none of your business, Wise Guy,” she retorted.
Veronica took Clarence out of his cage and handed him to Martha. “Just hold him a minute.”
Reluctantly, she took the cat, and right on cue, Clarence snuggled into her arms, then reached up and licked her chin.
“See!” Veronica exclaimed. “He likes you!”
“I don’t know,” Martha replied, setting Clarence on the counter. “Pets are a lot of trouble.”
“Not really,” I said, putting in my two cents worth. “We’ve had him several days and it’s been no problem. Just put out some food and water and keep his litter box clean. You don’t even have to give him a bath. I found that out the hard way.”
“Oh look!” Maggie gushed.
Clarence had found the arrangement Martha had been working on before we interrupted her.
“How could you possibly resist that?” Veronica asked. “Please, give him a chance. I know he’ll be good for you and you’ll become the best of friends.”
Clarence was so cute I almost wanted to pet him myself --- almost.
“What the heck,” Martha said, picking him up. “You wanna come live with me?”
Clarence licked her on the nose.
“I think that’s a ‘yes,’” Veronica said, beaming.
“Then it’s a done deal,” I replied. “I’ll go get his crap out of the car. Oh, by the way. Clarence has quite a colorful past. We’ll give you the details one day.”
It had been a good morning.
Clarence was out of my apartment and Martha had found a new companion.
CHAPTER 12
One Month Later
Abdel Abaid and Rami Rahal were having a cup of coffee at Starbucks.
“Yuck!” Abdel said with a grimace. “This American crap is like drinking syrup.”
“Then just buy coffee,” Rami replied. “Every drink doesn’t have to have caramel and whipped cream.”
Abdel’s attention was drawn to a woman who had just stepped up to the counter to order.
“That woman,” Abdel said, pointing. “I know her.”
“I’ve seen her somewhere too,” Rami replied, pulling out his cell phone.
After scrolling through dozens of photos, he handed the phone to Abdel. “I knew it! Here she is. Nightshade.”
“I believe you are right,” Abdel replied, searching documents on his own phone. “Yes, Sara Savage is a CIA operative and has been involved in several undercover operations in Lebanon. We must tell Hassan.”
“We mustn’t lose her,” Rami said, as the woman turned to leave. “We’ll follow her. I’ll drive while you make the call.”
They jumped into their extended cab pick-up and followed the woman to a flower shop on Main Street. She parked, carried her purse, her coffee, and some kind of carrier into the store.
“Yes, Hassan,” Abdel said, listening intently. “I understand. We’ll take care of it.”
“What did he say?” Rami asked. “Is she to die?”
“Quite the contrary. Hassan says we are to take her alive and hold her at our house until he contacts us.”
“Then let’s do it.”
Martha had just opened the shop when two men entered.
“Be right with you,” she said, her back to the men. “I just need to finish this. Are you looking for something special?”
“Indeed we are. Do you carry Nightshade in your store?”
Martha froze, then slowly turned and faced two men with guns drawn.
“Nothing quite that exotic. We have a special on roses this week.”
“No games, Sara.” Then he looked at her name badge. “Or is it Martha these days?”
“What do you want? Money? Take it all. It’s not mine.”
“You know what we want --- you!”
“If you know who I am, then why not just kill me here?”
“Hassan has bigger plans for you. Will you come with us peacefully, or must it be after you suffer great pain?”
“I’ll come,” she replied. “Let me get my things.”
Then she spotted Clarence.
“My cat. Please let me take my cat. If I leave him here, he’ll die. If he’s a problem, you can always dump him or kill him later. If you let me bring him, I promise I won’t be any trouble.”
Abdel looked at the cat who was playing with rose petals that had fallen to the floor.
He shrugged. “Sure, bring the animal. He will be company for Jezebel. But if you give us any trouble, he’s dead.”
Ten minutes later, Martha, with Clarence in his carrier, were in the truck.
Abdel put a cloth bag over Martha’s head, then turned to Rami. “Drive!”
I was at my desk when the phone rang.
“Walt, this is Veronica. Have you seen or heard from Martha?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“I just went by the flower shop. The place was wide open but Mom was not there. I sent Kevin to her apartment but she wasn’t there either. I tried calling her cell, but it went straight to voice mail.”
“That is odd. Maybe she’s just running an errand. Maybe she forgot to turn on her cell.”
I was trying not to worry Veronica, but I wasn’t very convincing.
“Walt! You know she wouldn’t have gone off without locking the store. I think something’s happened to her.”
“Was there any sign of a struggle inside the shop?”
“Not that I could see. Everything looked fine except for some rose petals on the floor.”
“Let me check with Maggie,” I said, “and I’ll get back to you.”
Instead of calling Maggie, I dialed my brother, Mark Davenport, in Washington.
Mark is with Homeland Security, and was instrumental in wrapping up Sara Savage’s position as an undercover operative. Without his help, Sara would still be on the run. I had no doubt his agency would still be keeping an eye on her just to make sure she was staying retired.
“Mark. Walt here. I don’t mean to bug you, but I’m wondering if you’ve been in contact with Sara --- uhh --- Martha Miller?”
“Why?” he asked somewhat suspiciously.
“Because she seems to be missing. She’s not at her apartment or the flower shop, and she’s not answering her cell.”
Long silence.
“Actually, I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this, but I know how you are. You’ll just keep digging until you find something.”
“Then you have been in contact with her.”
“Not exactly. But this morning, we received a call from a Hassan Hajjar. He claims to have Sara and he wants to make a trade.”
“A trade? What kind of trade?”
“According to our sources, Hassan is a member of Hezbollah, the Islamist militant group. We captured and are holding one of their operatives, Nassim Maalouf. They’re wanting to trade Sara for Maalouf.”
“You’re going to do it, of course.”
Another long silence.
“Walt, Maalouf is a bad dude. He was involved in a bus bombing in Bulgaria, the bombing of a Jewish Community Center in Argentina, the bombing of a Marine Base in Beirut, and the list goes on.”
“Sara is sixty-three years old and retired,” I replied. “What makes them think you would trade an active operative for someone like her?”
“Undoubtedly they’re familiar with Sara. She did some work for us in Syria and Lebanon. They assume she has proprietary knowledge about our operations there.”
“Does she?”
“Not any more. Anything she might have known is old news --- water under the bridge.”
“So does that mean you’re not considering a trade?”
“First, there is no way we would release a man like Maalouf, and second, even if Sara had vital information, we still wouldn’t make the deal. The United States simply does not negotiate with terrorists. I’m sorry, Walt.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “So what happens to Sara?”
“I’m guessing that once they realize there’s no trade, they’ll try to extract as much information from her as possible.”
“By extract, you mean torture, don’t you?”
“That’s certainly a possibility.”
“And when they’ve extracted all they can get, what next?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“So you’re just abandoning her? After forty years of service, you’re just going to throw her to the wolves?”
“Of course not. We have some of our guys looking into it.”
“Gee, that’s real encouraging. Sounds like bureaucratic bullshit to me.”
“I know this sounds harsh to you, but every operative knows the risks that go with the job.”
“Can you at least do one thing for me?”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t tell them ‘no’ right away. Stall as long as you can.”
“So you and your buddies can get involved? Walt, these guys are terrorists! They blow stuff up! Don’t you get it?”
“No, it’s you that doesn’t get it. Sara is Veronica’s mother, and there’s no way in hell you or anyone else is going to stop us from looking for her. Now are you going to help us or not?”
A sigh. “I’ll do what I can, but we can’t stall them forever. Walt, be careful. I don’t want to be coming to Kansas City for my brother’s funeral.”
CHAPTER 13
It was a somber group seated around my dining table.
“Terrorists! Lebanese terrorists have taken my mother?” Veronica was trying to stifle a sob.
I nodded. “Mark told me they’re wanting to make a swap --- Sara for a fellow by the name of Nassim Maalouf.”
“They’ll do it, won’t they?”
“That’s just the thing --- it’s not going to happen. According to Mark, the United States doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.”
Veronica buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe they’d abandon her like that.”
“That’s bullshit!” Kevin interjected. “The U.S. doesn’t negotiate with terrorists --- unless it’s in their best interests, of course. I’m guessing this is one of those times when it’s not in their best interests.”
“That seems to be the case. This Maalouf has been involved in some pretty heavy stuff --- bombings on several continents, and frankly, Sara has been out of the picture long enough that any intel she might have is out of date. I asked Mark what they were going to do. He told me they would have someone look into it.”
“So, nothing!” Kevin replied with disgust. “Looks like it’s up to us to bring Sara home.”
“Ox, what about the police?” Maggie asked. “Sara --- Martha --- is a missing person.”
“When we tell them Martha’s been kidnapped by terrorists,” Ox replied, “they’ll say it’s a Federal matter and refer us to the FBI. They’ll confer with Homeland Security and we’re right back where we started.”
“Time is also an issue,” I added. “Mark said he’d stall as long as possible, but once the terrorists realize there’s not going to be a trade, it won’t go well for Sara.”
“Then we’d better get started,” Kevin said.
“Yeah, but where?” Dad muttered.
For a few minutes, everyone was silent, then I had a thought.
“Veronica, when you went by the flower shop did you happen to see Clarence?”
She thought for a moment. “I was focused on finding Mom, but now that you mention it, I didn’t see Clarence, and I know for a fact she’d been taking him to work with her every day. I didn’t see his carrier either, but it might have been in the back.”
I turned to Kevin. “I don’t suppose Clarence was at her apartment when you checked?”
“Nope, nobody there, but you may be onto something. You’re thinking maybe she found a way to take Clarence with her when she was abducted.”
“It’s certainly a possibility,” I replied, my excitement building. “We told her about Clarence’s colorful past and the tracking chip in his neck. She’s a trained operative, after all, so maybe she used Clarence as some kind of a bargaining chip. ‘I’ll go quietly if I can bring my cat.’”
“If that’s the case,” Ox said, “we at least have somewhere to start.”
“One big problem,” Kevin said. “We have no idea where they might have taken her. It could be anywhere in the greater Kansas City area, and my VHF receiver only has a half-mile range. It could take days to cover the city and we don’t have that kind of time.”
“What if we had more receivers?” Ox asked. “I know a guy who runs an electronics store. I’ll bet he has receivers like yours on hand. What did you call it --- a rubber ducky?”
“Yes, that’s it. If your guy has them in stock, we can split up and cover the city much quicker. Make the call.”
A few minutes later, Ox was back. “He has three of them and he’s holding them for us.”
“Great!” I said. “We can split up into four groups and divide the city into quadrants. Maggie and I will take northeast, Kevin and Veronica, southeast, Ox and Judy, northwest, and Dad and Willie, southwest. Let’s all meet at the electronics store, get a quick lesson, and find our friend!”
Abdel and Rami led Sara into the small bungalow on Elmwood. It wasn’t until she was seated, her hands and feet bound, that they removed the hood.
Once her eyes adjusted, she looked around the drab kitchen. The house was old, but relatively clean for two single men living alone.
“So what now?” she asked.
“Now we wait,” Abdel replied. “Hassan has been in contact with your Homeland Security. He’s negotiating a trade. You for Nassim Maalouf.”
“Never happen,” Sara replied. “Not after what that bastard did in Beirut and Argentina.”
“You’d better hope it does,” Abdel said, “or it won’t go well for you. Nothing personal. It’s business. I’m sure you understand.”
“Oh, I understand, all right.”
Then she noticed Clarence in his carrier. They had placed him on the kitchen table and he was mewing softly.
His soft cries had drawn the attention of
a sleek yellow cat who came trotting into the kitchen.
“Ahhh, there’s Jezebel,” Abdel said, picking up the cat.
Sara was amused. “I didn’t figure you for cat people.”
“We’re not,” Abdel replied. “She just showed up on our doorstep one day. She was hungry and didn’t have a home, so we took her in. Rami is an all right guy, but he doesn’t talk much. Jezebel keeps me company. When we’re finished in Kansas City, we’ll put her back on the street.”
Jezebel was straining to get a look at Clarence.
“Let’s see if these two get along,” Abdel said, placing Jezebel on the floor. He opened the carrier and Clarence hopped out.
Immediately, they began sniffing each other as cats often do.
Everyone held their breath, waiting to see if the confrontation would end in a spat.
After several minutes of sniffing, Jezebel trotted to her food bowls, Clarence following close behind.
Sara breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the two cats sharing a bowl of milk.
“We could learn a lot from them,” Sara said. “Two strangers, different colors, meeting, sharing food and becoming friends.”
“Unfortunately, our world is not like theirs,” Rami said. “Animals do not hate. People hate. It has been that way from the beginning of time.”
“Regardless, I wonder if you and I could be more like our feline friends? Any chance you could untie my hands and feet? It’s beginning to hurt.”
“Nice try,” Abdel said. “You are a government assassin, trained to kill. You have one objective and that is to get free at all costs. No, I’m afraid you will stay bound except to eat and use the bathroom.”
“Speaking of that,” Sara replied, “I could certainly use a trip to the lady’s room.”
Abdel was about to respond when he glanced across the room.
“Rami! Quick! Get the broom! That beast is trying to hump my Jezebel!”
[Lady Justice 26] - Lady Justice and the Cat Page 8
