Breach of Trust

by DiAnn Mills

  Palmer already had an operative planted in Keary’s campaign team. And chances were that Keary knew he was under the scrutiny of the world’s largest intelligence force. He knew how to cover his tracks and where to find the people to do his dirty work.

  If Paige threatened Keary, he would not hesitate to have her arrested. Neither would he relinquish the pressure for her to saddle up and join his trail ride to Oklahoma City. She glanced up at the skies and saw a blue gray cloud in the east. Maybe there was a little hope for rain in this desert.

  “God, You know him better than I do. I need a little help here.”

  Keary believed that only the strong survived, and those who didn’t subscribe to his esoteric views deserved whatever happened to them. He’d murdered before, and he would again. She had to give him credit because he was right about the American people being tired of buying from China when goods could be made here. Last Christmas half the toys made in China had to be recalled. What the citizens didn’t realize was Keary had no problem encouraging a position of harmony with the Arab world and divesting oil from those countries in Africa where a scorched-earth policy paved the way for American businesses to make a bundle.

  Paige had heard and read enough of his policies to understand his call for Americans to remember when they were happy—a false nostalgia. Big business supported Keary. Evangelical leaders supported Keary. She knew the process, the philosophy, of some spy schools: begin by convincing the public about small inconsistencies in values, then build them up until they accepted the evil ones. Hitler had done a fine job of it, and Keary had always been a student of that dictator.

  Once Paige made it to Oklahoma City, she found the law offices of Hughes and Sullivan housed in a black glass building. Quite fitting. She pulled into the underground parking and snatched up a ticket as the machine spit one out from the gate. Fat chance of H&S validating her parking, but the thought made her laugh and lifted the heaviness from the ordeal ahead of her.

  She rode the elevator up to the tenth floor. In an instant, she was Mikaela Olsson. Odd, it was the first time she’d ever worked a file with a prayer. The elevator doors opened to opulence—everything from the plush carpet to the stylish contemporary furnishings and the original paintings framed on the walls. It was rich. It was tasteful. The offices were laid out in a semicircle, which allowed the various pieces of artwork to be displayed aesthetically.

  Paige wound around a pale green corridor to where a young woman who resembled the current cover model for Vogue met her at the doorway of a reception office.

  “May I help you?” The young woman’s smile did not flow into her words. Perhaps Paige’s pink Croc, boot cast, and wide-leg jeans detracted from her appearance.

  “I’d like to see Daniel Keary, please.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, but I’m sure if you give him my name, he will see me.”

  “Do you represent a charity organization, because if you do—”

  “I have business with Mr. Keary. If you’d kindly tell him that Paige Rogers is here to discuss business, he will arrange time in his busy schedule to speak with me.”

  Miss Magazine Cover stiffened. “I will escort you to our waiting area while I contact Mr. Keary.” She turned abruptly and swiveled down the hall in her stilettos.

  Paige concentrated on her upcoming conversation with Keary. She seated herself in a contemporary symmetrical chair. Copies of Money, Forbes, Economist, and Golf Digest lay on a glass-topped table. She picked up a recent copy of Forbes and thumbed through it.

  Within ten minutes, the young woman reappeared. “Mr. Keary will see you now. I’ll take you to his office.” Her cool and condescending tone amused Paige.

  “Thank you.” Paige had replayed the various scenarios of this meeting with Keary. She was in character; she was herself.

  Keary stood from behind his massive desk, a combination of glass and wood. Not a single sheet of paper on his desk. Not a smudge either. “Good afternoon, Miss Rogers. Come in and sit down.” He nodded to the young woman. “Please close the door when you leave.”

  Paige slid into a chair where she could watch who entered Keary’s office. An old habit she had no intention of breaking.

  Keary folded his hands on his desk. Already he’d taken on the bearing of a governor. “Shall I bring out the champagne?”

  “Alcohol numbs the brain.”

  “I can remember when that didn’t matter when it came to us.”

  “I grew up.”

  “Then enlighten me,” he said with a smirk.

  She stared into his hazel eyes, issuing a silent challenge. “I’m tired of your game-playing.”

  “I don’t play games. I play for keeps.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “But I haven’t gotten your attention enough to persuade you to work on my campaign.”

  “The election’s in two months. I imagine you’ve paid plenty of willing supporters to carry on in that area. Or are you offering me a job in your administration?” Her gaze moved around the room. She was certain their conversation was being recorded. “I’m assuming your political aspirations exceed that of governorship.”

  “I’m qualified.”

  “Depends on who is viewing your list of personal achievements and current loyalties.”

  “Point well taken. I have close associations in Washington. It’s only a matter of time before this country experiences new leadership.”

  “Your venality disgusts me.”

  “I have my ethics,” Keary said.

  “Ethics? Oh, that’s rich. Your definition of ethics is what brings the ultimate good to you.”

  The sneer that greeted her said she’d spoken the truth. A brief moment of triumph gave her the confidence she needed.

  “What brings you here today?” he asked.

  “To tell you to leave me alone. I will never support you. So call off your hired guns.”

  Keary leaned across the desk. “I’d think you would have learned by now that I always win. Check the polls on Election Day.”

  Paige leaned toward him. “I have the same skills as you do.”

  “But not the same tactics. Look at the record. I’m smarter, and I’m still holding all of the aces.”

  “The big difference is I learned from my mistakes.”

  “Don’t think you’ve learned a thing.”

  Paige stood. “Leave me alone, Keary. Don’t touch my parents, my friends, anyone I know. This stops here. All of it. The company knows where I am. If I end up dead, you’re the first one on their calling card. My parents end up hurt, and I release your past to the media. My rear’s covered with anything you might try to pull. I’ve had a lot of years to think about it.”

  He clenched his fist. Lines tightened around his eyes.

  He knows about the investigation.

  “Accidents happen.”

  “I’ll remember that.” She adjusted her shoulder bag—devoid of her gun—and exited Keary’s office and the building of Hughes and Sullivan. She’d won this round whether he acknowledged it or not.

  Once in her car, she phoned Palmer. “The mouse took the cheese.”

  Chapter 21

  Paige landed in Nairobi at 7 p.m. on Saturday. After picking up a rental car and checking into Nairobi International Youth Hostel, within walking distance from the hospital, she hobbled in to see Bobbie. Stupid cast.

  As soon as Paige entered the room, Bobbie opened her eyes. A Bible lay on her chest, and a lamp cast a lambent glow about her. The large woman had been reduced to a frail figure, a reality that Paige had anticipated but was not fully prepared to see.

  “I’ve been expecting you,” Bobbie whispered and lifted her bare head.

  “How are you feeling?” Paige leaned over the bed and touched her friend’s cheek with a trembling hand.

  “No pain, dear friend. For that I’m grateful. But I like to sleep.” She smiled and eased back down onto the pillow.

  Paige took her bony
hand, the one not connected to an IV. “As well as I can remember, you never used to do much of that.”

  “I’m dreaming about heaven,” Bobbie said.

  “Remember when you read to me about heaven and how wonderful it would be? We talked about our mansions. You wanted a beach house next to the bluest sea with lots of shells, and I wanted a little house in the country with a front porch.”

  Bobbie’s eyes were bright despite her rapidly failing health. “Oh, we did have good times, didn’t we?” She moistened her lips. “We need to talk while I’m still coherent.”

  Paige started to protest, but Bobbie shook her head. And Paige knew the time was fleeting.

  “What do we do about Nathan?” Bobbie’s raspy voice and rattled breathing spoke of her nearing the end.

  Paige blinked back the tears. Being here, at the hospital in Nairobi, brought back so many memories she’d tried to forget. She’d been transferred here when the hospital in Angola could not give her the care she needed. Luckily the Nairobi Hospital had a VIP wing, where patients could be treated confidentially. Paige was able to take on her new identity and try to make plans for an unknown future, all the while preparing to give birth to Daniel Keary’s child and wondering how to protect the innocent child from his father.

  She didn’t know what she would have done had she not met Bobbie during those difficult days. Bobbie had been hospitalized as well, no doubt for something related to her current condition. But of course, being Bobbie, she’d never said much about it at the time. No, her concern had been for Paige—Paige’s heart, Paige’s baby, and most of all, Paige’s soul. Her loving example had opened the door for Paige to come to faith in Christ. And when Nathan was born, Bobbie agreed to be his mother. She had never asked why Paige had to give him up for adoption. No condemnation, only love.

  Paige shook her head and turned her attention to the present. Bobbie had asked her a question. About Nathan. “I’d still like the opportunity to be his mother, but . . .”

  “I was hoping you hadn’t changed your mind.”

  “I do wonder if he’d be better off with someone else.”

  “Do you love him?”

  Tears welled in Paige’s eyes. “Oh yes.”

  “You’re a good woman, and I’ve never doubted your love for our boy. Now it’s your turn.” Bobbie paused as though to find the strength to continue. “I had the papers drawn up for you to take guardianship.” She pointed to the nightstand. “They’re inside, all ready for you to sign. If you’ll call the number on the envelope, my lawyer can be here in a few minutes.”

  Paige lifted the manila envelope from the drawer. Could she do this—be a good mother to Nathan?

  “Make the call. My lawyer is downstairs waiting. This is the way it’s supposed to be.”

  “Okay.” A moment later Paige replaced the receiver on the cradle. “I’ll meet him downstairs on my way out. The words thank you are not enough, but they’re the only ones I have. Where is Nathan now?”

  “A missionary friend is keeping him for me. He and I will say our good-byes tomorrow morning. You can meet him then.” Tears flowed down Bobbie’s face. “I hate to leave him, but I know God has this all worked out.”

  Paige swallowed the devastation in her soul. “Indeed He does.” She inhaled deeply to gather strength. “Bobbie, I can’t be seen with Nathan here at the hospital. Can I visit him at your friend’s home?”

  “Is your life still in danger?”

  Paige forced a smile. “I must keep Nathan safe from his father. Just a little while longer. Arrangements have been made for a couple to escort him to the States.”

  Bobbie closed her eyes. “I trust you.”

  Paige kissed her cheek. “We trust God. I love you, Bobbie.”

  After the two prayed, Paige revealed enough of herself to let Bobbie know that she was not involved in anything illegal or immoral. She had Nathan’s address and would visit him tomorrow after he visited his mother for the last time.

  The next afternoon, Paige drove to a shopping area, browsed, and purchased a candle in case someone was following her, then drove back to the hotel. Once in her room, she darkened her makeup and slipped into a black ankle-length skirt and a hijab. She stole down the back stairs of the hotel and out the back door, where she slid into a Lexus with two people, an African American man and a white woman.

  “Raif and Anissa Wilkinson?” she said, once inside the tinted-window vehicle.

  “Right,” said the man, who was driving. “Do you have the address?”

  Paige handed him the information Bobbie had given her the previous night. The alias names would not leave a trail. “If you could take a little time with Nathan, I’d appreciate it. He’s going to be upset about leaving his mother.”

  “Sure thing.” He glanced out the rear window. “I think we’re clear.”

  Paige removed the Islamic dress and wiped off the dark makeup. She allowed her mind to dwell on Nathan—seeing him, touching him, hearing his voice. Who did he look like? Was he a sports fan, a reader, a good student? A flood of emotions swept over her, strangling her in one breath and churning her stomach in the next. CIA training had equipped her to endure pain, fake a polygraph, and secure information. But none of those things had prepared her to meet her son.

  The car pulled up in front of a small house on the outskirts of Nairobi. The area looked less than desirable, but that was where missionaries worked—with the people in need.

  She and the operatives exited the car. Digging her fingernails into her palms in an effort to settle her emotions, she stood in front of the door unable to take the next step. Raif took the lead and knocked. Get a grip.

  The door opened, and a Kenyan woman appeared, carrying a baby and with a toddler tugging on her leg.

  “Bobbie sent us,” Paige said.

  The woman’s face hardened. “I don’t agree with her sending Nathan to the States,” she said in a clipped accent. “He needs to stay here with those who love his mother.”

  “I’m honoring her wishes.” Paige didn’t need to study her body language to note the animosity. “May I see Nathan?”

  The woman shifted the baby to her other hip. “Who are these people?”

  Paige could handle this part. “Raif and Anissa Wilkinson. And your name?”

  “Rachel.” She opened the door and Paige stepped into the unknown. She’d rather have stepped into a minefield. At least she knew how to handle that.

  A young white boy sat on the floor with two other children. A scattering of building blocks, homemade, lay about them. A paralyzing chill moved through Paige’s body.

  “Nathan.” Rachel knelt beside him, holding the baby against her chest. “This is the woman your mother told us about.”

  Nathan looked up. For an instant, time suspended while Paige caught her first glimpse of her dark-haired son. Her ears rang. A fire rose in her throat. She fought nausea. My baby. My sweet son. How beautiful you are. Her mind drifted back to when she had loved Daniel Keary, when she had respected his position at the CIA, when she’d memorized his every feature. She looked deep into blue eyes, icy blue. My eyes. But he had Daniel’s mouth and thick, wavy hair. She willed herself to talk, to act, anything.

  Modeling Rachel, she bent to Nathan’s side. “I’m Paige, and I’m sorry about your mother.”

  Nathan nodded and clamped down on his lower lip. Paige remembered as a child, she used to do the same thing. With trembling hands she touched his face, as though he weren’t real . . . a dream . . . a blessing she didn’t deserve.

  “You’re going to take me to the States?” The Kenyan lilt of Nathan’s voice nudged her with the years she’d missed.

  Raif and Anissa knelt beside Paige and Nathan. Rachel scooted the other children out of the room.

  “Actually my friends Mr. and Mrs. Wilkinson will take you.”

  “Hey, Nathan,” Raif said. “I’m looking forward to the plane ride with you.”

  “Me too.” Anissa’s soft tone relayed her sympat
hy for the situation. “We can read books and watch movies.”

  Nathan stared at all of them. Poor baby. We’re all strangers.

  “I’ll catch up with you once I finish my work.” Paige realized once again she was failing him.

  “And you’re going to be my mommy?” Nathan swiped a tear.

  “No one will ever replace your mommy. Like you, I love her, and I will do my very best to be your second mommy.”

  “Mommy is going to be with Jesus.”

  “I know.” Tears fell over Paige’s face. She wanted to pull him into her arms. Maybe later when he felt more comfortable.

  “I want to stay here.”

  “I understand. Leaving your friends is very hard.”

  “Mommy said I must be brave.”

  “I can tell you are.” Paige searched for something to ease his pain. “Would you like to take a ride with me?”

  “In that big car?” Curiosity sparked in his eyes.

  “Yes, just you and me.”

  He nodded. Raif fished in his pocket for the keys. A few moments later, Paige drove her son down a side street. What should she ask? What should she say? She wanted to know everything, but now wasn’t the time.

  “I may need you to help me be your second mommy.” Paige turned to the little boy. “I want to do things like you’re used to—like school.”

  “Mommy is my schoolteacher.”

  Homeschooled. That was a tough one. “Do you like it?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve never been to a real one.”

  “What do you do in your mommy’s school?”

  “Read, do math. Science stuff. Lots of things. And I memorize Bible verses; then we talk about them.”

  Paige could do that part.

  A shot rang out. She spun into operative mode. No doubt the car was bulletproof, but she didn’t intend to take any chances.

  “Nathan, listen to me, sweetheart. Unbuckle your seat belt and get down on the floor. Hold on to the seat belt and do not let go.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Another shot bounced off the trunk of the car. Nathan scrambled to the floorboard.

  Keary, you monster! This is your son. She stepped on the gas and whipped the car around two others in front of her. A glance in the rearview mirror showed a white SUV gaining ground. The tinted windows hid the occupants, but someone fired an automatic from the passenger side.