by D S Kane
“Uh, sure. I don’t understand what this stuff is anyway.”
“You mean you’re unfamiliar with the sushi?”
“No. I mean I can’t read.”
Cassie swallowed hard. “I’ll order.” She ordered Yakatori skewered chicken and fried rice, tea, and tempura for Ann. She eyed two pieces of amaebi—sweet raw shrimp—and salmon skin rolls, tiger’s eye, and two spicy tuna rolls for them to split.
Ann looked around. “This is a nice place. Sweet. I like the music. And what are they doing?” Ann pointed to the surfers in the video.
Cassie looked at the screen and saw surfers riding the Mavericks in Half Moon Bay, less than a mile from where her parents lived. “They’re surfing. I used to do that when I was young.”
For the first time, Ann smiled. “No lie? Looks like fun.”
“It is. You can do things like that. I want you to have fun. Would you like that?”
Ann’s brows furrowed. “What do I have to do in return?”
Cassie sat stock-still. It all came down to what she said next. She took her time. “You can learn to read. Okay?”
Ann tilted her head. “Maybe.”
Cassie thought for a few seconds. “When we first met, I thought you were a remarkable, brave young woman. For a fourteen-year-old, you had impressive maturity and courage. Do you remember that you said I was very like you?”
Ann’s face frowned as if she was trying to decipher a puzzle. “No. I didn’t. I said that you were like us. Homeless, desperate, forgotten.” She put down her fork and looked into Cassie’s eyes. “I remember everything, exactly like it happened. I’m cursed that way. I can’t forget anything.” The last word stretched out into a tiny sob. Through her tears she said, “You can’t imagine what I’ve had to do to stay alive. So what else do you want from me?”
Cassie felt the verbal slap and pulled back from the table. She carefully crafted her words. “People were trying to kill me. I escaped, changed my identity, and even altered my face. I fixed those people so they’ll never hurt anyone. Ever again. Do you remember we vowed to be friends?” She pulled the photograph of Ann from her pocket. “Seeing you—your photo—was what kept me from giving up. I owe you my life. I’m back now. I want to offer you a better life. I want to be your guardian. Please. You can always return here. But my life would be more complete with you.”
Ann’s face registered distrust. “How?”
“I can’t have children.” Cassie shook her head. “You’re the daughter I’ve always wanted. Please. I’m sure you have lots of other questions. Ask me anything.”
She saw unflinching doubt in Ann’s face.
“Just consider my offer while we eat dinner.” Cassie needed to entice her. She thought for a second and then blurted out, “I have a kitten.”
Ann’s eyes were hooded. “A kitten?” The teenager’s face flickered with momentary interest. “But why should I trust you. You disappeared before. For months. So how do I know you won’t do that again? And I still don’t know what you want from me.”
“That’s over. I’ll be there for you. I want you to be my daughter.”
Cassie saw the shock on Ann’s face. The girl’s eyes drew away. “I’ll think about it while we eat.”
“Fair enough.” Cassie broke open the paper wrapper on her chopsticks, picked up a piece of amaebi, dipped it in soy sauce that she mixed first with wasabi, and popped it into her mouth.
Ann tried the same move with her own chopsticks but couldn’t manage to coordinate the chopsticks. She gave up, picked the shrimp up with her fingers and stuffed sushi into her mouth, chewing fast. Her eyes bulged as the sharp taste of wasabi assaulted her taste buds. After a few mouthfuls, she slowed down and took a long look at Cassie. “So tell me, what would my life be like if I lived with you?”
Cassie smiled. Another hurdle passed. “What kind of life do you dream of?”
The teen stared at the chopsticks as if they had somehow become the focus of her life. “I don’t have dreams. Just nightmares. Mom was a crack whore. And she overdosed.”
Cassie knew this. She remembered their conversations so long ago. “Would you like to grow up in a family? And learn things, like how to read? You wouldn’t have to sell your body ever again. I could take you places. I could teach you to surf.”
Cassie picked up a piece of spicy tuna with the chopsticks. Was Ann convinced? She waved the sushi as she talked. Without thinking the words left her. “I have a boyfriend. I think you’ll like him.” Uh-oh. Was telling this to Ann a mistake?
Ann’s expression was wary. “Boyfriend? So who is he supposed to be? My make-believe father?” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I want to be part of an instant family.”
She touched the teen’s hand. “Just try it. No strings.”
“Well.” Ann sat still, her eyes hooded.
Everything in Cassie’s life froze while she waited for Ann to decide.
“Okay. I’ll try it for a few days. But what about all my things in the tunnels?”
“I’ll buy you new clothing and anything else you want. All you have to do is ask. Okay?”
Ann stared at the chopsticks.
Cassie noted suspicion still there. Be patient, she thought.
Almost a minute passed before Ann picked up her chopsticks. “So, Cassie, can you teach me how to use these?”
Chapter Three
September 15, the third day of Ramadan, 6:57 p.m.
Houmaz apartment suite, Riyadh city center, Saudi Arabia
As Achmed Houmaz touched his father’s face, the corners of his own eyes filled with tears.
He stared at his father’s robe. The white terrycloth bore the Wahhabi crest on one shoulder, open wider than usual, exposing the old man’s chest. The emblem indicated his Sunni Islamic fundamentalist beliefs, which ran counter to his government’s more moderate beliefs. That symbol had always kept them apart in life. He touched the tiny hole in his father’s chest where the doctor’s adrenaline-filled syringe had failed to revive the old man.
The sun set blood red, reflecting the gray of his father’s face. Sultan Houmaz’s eyes were glazed, staring at the computer screen where the Al Jazeera website glared back. Achmed turned to the screen, compelled by what he saw there.
The screen flashed photos of Achmed’s two brothers, dead, naked, mutilated. Like massive butterflies, their corpses had been mounted on the east wall of the conference room in the family compound twenty-five miles away. Crucified.
Achmed was sure it was this sight that had shocked Sultan, erupting into the massive coronary that took his father’s life. Now Achmed’s mind pondered how this had happened and who had murdered his brothers? Who had caused his father’s death?
A decade before their murders, his father had disowned the brothers. He’d often mentioned these other sons as too radical for his world. Muslim terrorists, they ran training operations in Afghanistan and recruitment in Saudi Arabia. It brought suspicion on Sultan, though he needed the approval of the royal family to run his company.
As one of the directing council for OPEC, Achmed coordinated pricing and production among members for the royals. His father disliked the moderate religious practices of the ruling family. They weren’t observant enough, and Achmed worked for them. He was sure this was why his father barely tolerated him.
His father sought more from every one of his sons than they could give. He turned his face away.
Achmed had always sought peace until now, but his father’s death stunned him. His mouth moved but no words came. Grief mixed with a terrible growing thirst for vengeance. It rattled inside him like a vengeful Efreet, a mythical Arab creature that controlled the living. His fists flexed. He barely whispered. “I will find out who did this to my brothers, father. I swear I will avenge you.”
Cassie took Ann to a large store a block from Penn Station and bought clothing for the teenager. She then took Ann to the YMCA where she could shower. Then the twenty-nine-year-old woman and the fourteen-
year-old walked to a ticket counter at Grand Central Station. Cassie used her debit card to buy train tickets and Ann stood close by. She reached for Ann’s hand but the teen pulled away. Cassie realized this mother-daughter thing would take time.
Once seated on the train, Cassie used her cell to search the Swiftshadow Consulting website for email messages. And there it was:
Sashakovich—
I’ve arranged Ainsley’s release as you demanded. He’ll arrive tomorrow night at Reagan, military terminal 2. You have temporary clearance to enter and can pick him up there. Arrive promptly and solo.
Almost no one ever returns from Guantanamo Bay, so count yourself lucky.
—McDougal
Cassie smiled.
Ann asked, “What were you doing?” She pointed to the cell phone.
“Checking my cell phone for messages. Would you like one? I’d be pleased to show you how to use it, but you’ll have to learn to read before it makes much sense to you.”
Ann looked down at her hands. She was silent for a few seconds, trying to make a serious decision. “I lied to you. I can read, but only simple stuff. I can’t read long words. I’ve forgotten lots of what I was taught when my mom was alive. It’s been a almost a year since I was in school. But I’m not stupid. Teach me. I’ll learn fast. I promise.”
Cassie saw Trenton’s slums rush by outside the train. Tears blurred the dark buildings. “Of course I’ll teach you.” She pulled Ann to her and hugged her. This time Ann barely resisted.
The President of the United States smiled, shaking the hand of the visiting diplomat before they parted. He turned back and ran his fingers through his short silver hair as he walked from the door to his desk in the Oval Office. The sky outside was dark with inclement weather, a mirror of his mood.
He had a few minutes between appointments and tried to relax, letting his mind wander. The very first thing he thought of was Sashakovich, the bitch who had blackmailed him. He wanted her dead.
Sashakovich had created what the intelligence agency’s head had called “an insurance policy,” meaning that when she disappeared or died, all the secrets she held—his secrets—would become public. He’d never thought anyone would find out, but if what she knew ever saw the light of day, that information could turn his legacy to ashes.
His party had a decent chance to win the upcoming election if no one discovered what he’d done. He looked at his calendar. Seven more weeks.
Another meeting in ten minutes. He’d have to start preparing.
Without realizing it, his fingers tugged tightly at his hair and he flinched. His phone vibrated, indicating his appointment had arrived. Chair of the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence. Tom Dillworthy, one of his most ardent supporters.
He thought about his future. Next year he’d be free of his responsibilities. His party might still occupy the White House. Then he’d have her taken care of, when he was no longer President. But not yet.
Dillworthy walked through the door and he wasn’t smiling. Something was wrong. “We need to speak about Yigdal Ben-Levy’s leaks to the press.”
The President forced a smile to contain his rage. He whispered to himself, “Doubting Thomas.” He looked into the Dillworthy’s eyes. “Tom, whatever are you talking about? What could an Israeli dip know that might concern us?”
Dillworthy’s eyes shifted to the ceiling. “Mr. President, there’s enough dirty laundry in his short interview to get you impeached. Arming terrorists and instructing them to attack the United States. Even if it isn’t true, it’s gaining traction.”
The President’s smile evaporated. “Washington as usual. Just more lies.” He thought, I have to have Sashakovich terminated before she can become an impeachment witness.
Cassie waved her arms trying to flag a taxi for twenty minutes in the stultifying heat and car exhaust of Indian Summer. Outside Union Station, she scanned the streets of Washington. They looked more decrepit than those of Trenton. Ann didn’t bother to help, but just sat sullenly on a park bench and watched. Cassie felt awkward by the time a Yellow Cab halted in front of them.
The late afternoon heat rose in waves off the taxi’s leather seats and the stench of unwashed humanity wafted up. Ann jumped in, but Cassie hesitated before following her. It wasn’t any worse than the underground, but she felt nauseated and endured the ride in silence. Ann seemed more comfortable sitting as far away from her as possible, looking out the window with interest. The taxi took them a few miles to Lee Ainsley’s apartment, near the intersection of Q and 27th Streets. The buildings there were old but the area was clean and well maintained.
Ann got out first, hesitantly, and drew back so Cassie took the lead. Cassie checked every few steps to make sure Ann was following. They trudged up the steps of the brownstone to the third floor. Spicy, ethnic cooking from neighboring apartments assailed Cassie. She inhaled deeply as she climbed the steps, but the nausea she felt in the cab didn’t dissipate.
Lee’s was the only apartment on the third floor. No one would see her breaking and entering. She didn’t have Lee’s apartment keys, so Cassie removed her tool case from one of the kangaroo pockets of her pants. She examined the lock and selected the bump key most likely to open the lock of Lee’s front door. She placed the key into the lock, tapped it firmly with the heavy end of her Swiss Army knife and it popped open.
The tiny face of a black kitten greeted them in the doorway. It mewed and then sat regally in front of them. Cassie bent down, picked up the soft little creature and petted it. It responded with loud purring.
Ann stepped forward and looked at the ball of black fur in Cassie’s hands.
“What’s its name?”
“Gizmo. She was homeless until the day before yesterday.” She handed the kitten to Ann, who grasped the animal as if it were a fragile work of art. The kitten rubbed its face against Ann’s arm and Ann looked up at Cassie, as if she to ask, is this all right? Cassie nodded and Ann held the kitten a little tighter, suddenly looking very young, a little girl alone and terrified.
Cassie reached out with a single finger and scratched under the little cat’s chin and the purring got even louder, like a tiny engine. “Let me show you around.” The studio was filled with clutter. Books on computer security, military tactics and a few novels lay scattered across every surface. Leftover food had gone to mold. No one had been in here for over three months. The place was filthy.
Maybe a tour of the wretched place was a bad idea. “Actually, you can see the entire apartment from where you’re standing.” She looked at Lee’s bed, then at the couch where Ann could sleep.
They’d need a new place immediately. “Uh, I’ll buy a screen to give you privacy, until we can move somewhere more suitable.” She realized Ann didn’t care. But anxious now, Cassie couldn’t stop. “And I want to buy you some clothes. And get you to a doctor so we can make sure you’re okay. And get you enrolled in school. And, and…well, a lot of things.” She stopped short. Nerves.
She caught a whiff of Ann in the now congested space and wrinkled her nose. “First, though, how about a shower?”
Ann sniffed under her arms. “You think I stink?”
“When was your last shower or bath?”
“Dunno. Prolly a few weeks ago.”
“Please?”
“Oh, shit. Okay.” She shrugged.
Ann reluctantly turned Gizmo over to Cassie and closed the bathroom door.
Another hurdle passed.
While Ann showered, Cassie called Child Protective Services. She placed Gizmo on the desk, and took a pen from the drawer. Instantly, the kitten went batting at it. All she needed was for CPS to open a record in their computers. Something she could hack. Once they’d started the process, she could use the Internet to reach deep inside their files and complete the process herself. The kitten took another swipe at the pen and Cassie had to suppress a snicker as she told the caseworker, “I need to apply to be a foster parent. Can I have an appointment to come do
wn and complete an application?” The conversation took only a few minutes. Once they booked the appointment, she’d be able to hack through.
Next, Cassie called a gynecologist. Ann needed to be tested for sexually transmitted diseases. She hoped the girl was clean but knew the odds were against her. That appointment was made for later in the week.
Finally, she called one of the private schools she found in the yellow pages. “I have a high-school-age-girl I want to enroll in your school. What’s the process and when can I schedule a meeting?”
This conversation went on, as the administrative official told her the school’s requirements for entry and the registration process. Cassie agreed to an appointment, according to the school’s heavily booked schedule. She’d hack the school’s files, too.
She filled the remainder of her week’s calendar. Cassie hung the few pieces of clothing she’d brought with her into Lee’s closet. She took out one clean outfit for herself, and one of those she’d purchased for Ann. She heard the sound of bare feet on linoleum and turned.
Ann had toweled her hair dry. Her body was wrapped in a towel, but she was rail-thin skin and bones, and her shoulders were narrow. Unlike Cassie, she had normal sized breasts, for a fourteen-year-old, and Cassie stifled her jealousy by selecting items from the closet. “Ann, here’s a clean outfit for you. I need a shower too, so while you’re drying off and dressing, I’m off to the bathroom.” She handed Gizmo to Ann.
Ann took the kitten and almost dropped the towel.
Cassie headed for the shower. When she had dried off, Ann was sitting on Lee’s leather couch, wearing a conservative pair of business slacks. The blouse was a bit tight along the front, barely covering her breasts, the buttons pulling from the pressure.
Gizmo curled in her lap.
Ann looked Cassie over. “Looks like you didn’t ever grow tits.”
Cassie pulled the towel tighter around her. “Yeah. Although, when I got pregnant, suddenly they were there. Small ones, but tits nonetheless.” She sighed. She turned away and pulled on panties.
