Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.
He couldn’t believe he was kissing her. He couldn’t feel his feet on the floor and thought he must be soaring through the air. He felt her hands on his arms, squeezing his biceps, then sliding over his shoulders and chest. He kept his hands pressed against her back, afraid to move them and make a mistake. So far, it was perfect.
Annika Dahl had given Yatin Kumar the surprise of his life when she quite suddenly interrupted their conversation with an enigmatic little smile, and said, "Wait. Let me kiss you."
He didn’t reply because the ability to use language had just as suddenly fled his brain. He merely looked at her dumbly, while she stepped closer, breaking that barrier of intimacy, and slipped into his arms for that heavenly kiss.
It didn’t even occur to him until she pulled away that someone had likely seen them. Well, he didn’t care. They were both single, and it wasn’t like he was some sleazy old diplomat putting moves on the beautiful daughter of a colleague.
"That was nice," Annika said.
"Yes," Yatin agreed. Nice was an understatement, he thought.
"It was more than nice," she said.
"Yes," Yatin agreed once again.
"So…tomorrow…" Annika’s voice trailed off into the night.
"What about it?" Yatin asked.
"That’s what I want to know," she said.
"I have to work, but I want to see you immediately after. Or maybe we can get together for lunch."
"I can’t." She shook her head.
"Oh. Well…"
"Can you take tomorrow off?" she asked.
"Yes," Yatin answered without hesitation. "I have three weeks of unused vacation time. I never take vacation unless I’m going to India to visit my family."
"Maybe you can take a few days off," Annika said.
"Okay."
"And maybe you can come with me tomorrow?"
"Where are you going?" He was thinking, the Hamptons, or maybe upstate. For the day.
"Atlanta," she said.
"You want me to come with you to Atlanta?"
She nodded. "I’m visiting my old roommate from college. She came to me last year, so this year it’s my turn to come to her."
"I see."
"I’ll be staying in a hotel, though," Annika said. "You can stay with me."
She reached out and touched his left arm with her right hand, smiling and looking directly into his eyes. Well before he said it, even before he consciously made the decision, he knew his answer was yes. How could he resist the woman he’d been dreaming about for so long?
"I suppose I can take off for a few days," Yatin said.
Annika’s beautiful smile widened and became positively heavenly. Yatin Kumar felt his heart expand in his chest.
"I’ll go online later and get your ticket for you," she said. "I’m very happy you’ll be going with me, Mr. Kumar."
She half turned to look towards the house, leaning into him. He touched her arm with the fingers of his left hand, lightly brushing them on her skin. A tingling sensation seemed to ride from his fingers, up his arm, to his brain, making him feel lightheaded. With his right hand he reached out for his champagne glass, and knocked it over. It shattered on the marble floor of the patio that surrounded the Dahl’s pool.
"Whoops!" exclaimed a voice from behind them.
Yatin and Annika turned to find the U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations heading towards them unsteadily with a flute of champagne in one hand. Even from where he stood, Yatin could smell liquor on his breath.
"Ms. Dahl, Mr. Kumar, what a pleasant surprise," Vincent Waldrup said, smiling. Judging by the smile, Yatin did not believe that Waldrup was surprised to see him at all. "I see you have made the lovely Ms. Dahl’s acquaintance."
"He’s still making it," Annika said with only a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
Waldrup gave Annika the once over twice, from head to toe and back again, before looking Yatin in the eyes and ignoring Annika’s comment.
"How are things in the Oracle Oversight office?" Waldrup asked him.
"Fine, sir," Yatin responded. He wondered why the U.S. Ambassador was being so friendly. Vincent had spoken less than a dozen words to Kumar ever since the meeting that had put control of Oracle effectively into the hands of the Security Council. Kumar had delivered a scathing speech, condemning the move, arguing that it could compromise Oracle’s entire reason for existing in the first place. But the Secretary-General bowed to the five permanent members of the Security Council, and that was that.
"Everything is copacetic with the A.I?" Waldrup asked.
"As far as I know, yes," Yatin answered.
"Excellent!" Waldrup seemed overly enthusiastic. Yatin wondered if the man was drunk on champagne. "It is some night out here, isn’t it?" Waldrup asked. It was hard to tell if he expected a reply or not. Before Yatin could decide, Vincent continued. "When you think about everything that’s going on in the world…right at this very moment…all the things that are happening right now because of Oracle…and it’s all good, isn’t it?"
Yatin blinked. Vincent Waldrup was on the verge of being incoherent.
"I guess it is," Yatin answered, sharing a bewildered glance with Annika, who also looked like she had no idea what to make of Vincent.
"Let me ask you something," Waldrup said, looking around at the other partygoers and then leaning in closer to Yatin. "Who is held accountable?"
Yatin frowned.
"Accountable?" he asked.
"Who is held accountable?" Vincent repeated, gesturing with his glass of champagne. Some sloshed out onto Annika’s arm. Waldrup didn’t seem to notice.
"For what?" Yatin asked him.
Waldrup nodded. "Exactly. That’s exactly my point. If no one knows what it is, how can anyone be held accountable? But Oracle knows, see."
At that moment, Peter Cornwall, the British delegate to the United Nations, approached them from the house.
"Good evening," he greeted them civilly, with a slight nod of his head.
"Long live the Queen," Waldrup said sarcastically, raising his glass in a mock toast.
"Sounds like you’re having an interesting conversation over here," Cornwall said, smiling amiably and ignoring Waldrup’s comment.
"I wouldn’t call it interesting," Annika said dryly.
"On the contrary, Miss Dahl," Cornwall said. "I’d call it very interesting indeed."
Waldrup’s expression turned into something between a scowl and a grimace.
"If no one minds," Cornwall continued, "my colleagues and I would very much like Mr. Waldrup’s opinion on a matter which we are debating."
"By all means," Annika returned coolly.
Waldrup attempted to summon up the words that would allow him to put Peter Cornwall in his place in front of them, but the words weren’t there. Instead, he followed the Brit around the pool and towards the house, glancing back once towards Yatin Kumar and Annika Dahl. They watched him with expressions that Vincent Waldrup could only interpret as relieved at seeing him go away.
Chiang Teng-chi, Luc Beauchamp, and Andrei Udin stood in a corner of the library, well away from the other guests at Ambassador Dahl’s party. The other U.N. delegates seemed to understand that, at the moment anyway, it was best to let them be. When Vincent Waldrup and Peter Cornwall joined the three in the library, there were more than a few sidelong glances in their direction. The five permanent members of the Security Council, it was generally assumed, were probably busily setting an agenda that the other members of the Council would be bullied into accepting.
"I see you have located our esteemed comrade," Udin said.
"Do you need me to help you tie your shoes again, Andrei?" Vincent asked.
"And he’s drunk again," Udin said to the others, ignoring Vincent’s comment.
"I’m not drunk," Vincent said, slurring ever so slightly.
Beauchamp noticed a waiter passing through the opposite end of the library. He got the
man’s attention with a wave.
"One coffee, please," Beauchamp told the waiter. "Black. Very, very black."
The waiter nodded and left.
"Perhaps we should wait until later to discuss this," Teng-chi said.
"Discuss what?" Vincent asked.
"Later might be too late," Beauchamp said, ignoring Vincent’s question.
"Too late for what?" Vincent asked.
"Oracle…" Udin said.
Vincent looked at the big Russian. "Do you know something I don’t know?"
Udin grinned. "Hard to believe, is it not?"
"Tell me." No one said a word. "God damn it, tell me!" Vincent raised his voice enough to attract looks and glances from the other guests.
The waiter returned with a large cup of coffee. Cornwall took it and handed it to Vincent, who received it almost absentmindedly and took a sip.
"Samantha Rohde’s parents are dead," Cornwall told Vincent.
Vincent absorbed this information calmly as he brought the coffee mug up to his lips. "Okay."
"Samantha Rohde herself has disappeared."
Vincent absorbed this information, too. "Okay."
"And we have reason to believe that the professional who was sent to do the job is now…protecting her."
At this, Vincent raised his eyebrows. "How do you know?" he asked.
Cornwall allowed only the dimmest grin, but said nothing.
"Do you know anything?" Cornwall then asked Vincent.
Vincent sipped his coffee, pondered the question for a moment, and then slowly shook his head.
Later, Teng-chi found Vincent Waldrup in the driveway, leaning against a limousine. Cornwall, Beauchamp, and Udin had long since gone home, as had most of the other guests. Normally, Teng-chi would also have gone, but he’d gotten himself cornered by the ambassador from South Korea. There was nothing to do but listen attentively while the Korean went on and on about Oracle’s latest program for unifying the peninsula, and how a key element to the success of unification would be China’s role in the process. All of this Teng-chi knew, of course.
And there was Vincent Waldrup, Ambassador to the United Nations for the most powerful nation on Earth, leaning drunkenly against the rear quarter panel of a sleek black limousine. Teng-chi approached. Vincent watched him and scowled.
"Late night for you, isn’t it?" the American asked, his voice slurred.
"I suppose it is later than usual for me, yes," Teng-chi replied.
The two men just stood there and regarded one another silently for a moment.
Finally, Vincent said, "So what do you really think, Teng-chi?"
"About?"
"Don’t fucking patronize me," Vincent practically spat. "About Oracle. About what’s happening in Atlanta. You know Cornwall is up to something. Goddamn Brits are always up to something."
"Yes," Teng-chi said. "Of course, so are the Americans, and the Chinese, and the French, and the Russians, and let’s not forget the Israelis and the North Koreans and the-"
Vincent cut him off. "All right! All right, I get it. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not talking about all that stuff. I’m talking about Oracle. Cornwall is up to something, and it’s about Oracle, it’s about what’s happening in Atlanta."
"Yes," Teng-chi said. That was all he needed to say. Vincent’s eyes widened. "What do you know?" he asked,
urgently, like a starving man who thought Teng-chi knew where the food was hidden.
"I do not know much," Teng-chi admitted. "My sources tell me that a British agent paid a visit to the Vatican two weeks ago, and that there is a Cardinal who has been investigating the assassination of Sanchez in Mexico with aid of a reporter from CNN. All three were at the Vatican at the same time."
Vincent blinked in disbelief as he stood there, stunned. It was obvious to Teng-chi that this was far more than Vincent had known, which surprised him.
"Jesus," Vincent said.
"That is all I know," Teng-chi added.
Vincent shook his head slowly. "My friend, that’s enough."
Chapter 20
Alonso downed two tumblers of Scotch, while in the hallway bathroom Tina was throwing up. Christie Seifert sat in a corner chair furiously taking notes, occasionally glancing up but not really focusing on anything or anyone. The bodies of the false priests had been arranged side-by-side in the foyer and covered with a blue blanket which had darkened in patches from contact with blood. There were two other bodies in the back of the mini-van the Vatican had sent to take Sam to the airport, to save her. Two real Catholic priests, and two assassins, were dead. The real priests had been stripped down to their underwear, so it was obvious what had happened. Henry sat in the dining room and watched as Sam slept in her chair. After the shootings she had cried into Tina’s shoulder for a long time. She was exhausted now.
The events at the Rohde house the day before flashed through Henry’s mind like the preview trailer for a movie, intermingled with the spectacle of Angus Becker hungrily gobbling up shrimp cocktail, roast beef, and French bread provided for them by Alonso. The image of Sam’s mother pulling a revolver, then of crumpling lifeless to the ground…and of Sam’s father’s shocked expression as he registered what was about to happen… He had probably died thinking that Henry would murder his wife and child and there was nothing he could do about it, that he had failed to protect his family. Henry knew what that felt like. It made him sick to his stomach to think that he himself had committed the crime that had been committed against him in Cairo.
"You’re a million miles away, ain’t you, Henry?" Angus said, leaning with his elbows on the table.
The others in the room, Juan Alonso and Cardinal Roscoe, eyed Angus Becker with suspicion and fear. The tension in the room was palpable, but Angus either didn’t notice, or chose to ignore it.
"I’m right here," Henry said.
"You ‘n’ me both, Henry. You ‘n’ me both."
"Tell me what the hell is going on."
Angus leaned back in his chair. "Oracle has developed what might be called multiple personality syndrome," he said matter-of-factly.
"How do you know?" Henry asked.
Christie Seifert came over. She took a seat in one of the extra dining room chairs along the wall.
"It told me," Angus said.
"Why didn’t it tell me?"
"It was on a need-to-know basis, see," Angus said.
Tina returned to the room.
"You okay?" Henry asked her. She looked at him with combative eyes, but nodded.
"You’re quite an attractive girl, you are," Angus said to Tina. "Ain’t you spoken for, then?" She didn’t answer, but took a seat at the opposite end of the table from him. This put her closer to Henry, and Sam. She reached over to brush a lock of dark hair from Sam’s forehead. "First time seein’ a dead body, is it?" Angus asked her. Tina ignored him. "It’s tough to get used to," Angus continued. "Ain’t it, Henry?" He looked at Tina.
"How many bodies have you seen?" Christie asked him.
"I’ve seen my share," Angus said. "Of course, when I met him our Henry was no stranger to dead bodies. No sir, not Henry, not after Cairo. It was Cairo set him on the path to the here and now."
"What happened in Cairo?" Christie asked.
"What happened in Cairo," Angus said. He looked at Henry. "What happened in Cairo to change you, Henry? Shall you tell the tale, then, or shall I?"
Henry said nothing. He concentrated on blocking the image of his wife’s blank stare and his daughter’s fear because Daddy was so upset. The images were always there. Changed him? No. Henry was the same man as the one who’d held his daughter while she slowly bled to death.
"It was al-Qaeda," Angus said. "A tour bus off to see the Great Pyramids makes the perfect target for a terrorist attack. Mr. and Mrs. Henry Porembski just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time with their young daughter.
"Oh my God, Henry," Tina said softly. "I’m so sorry…"
"Co
nstance was her name, wasn’t it?" Angus asked. "How old was she, Henry?"
"Shut up, Angus." The ghosts of Henry’s past were crying out.
"Seven, eight? About the same age as Samantha Rohde there, no?"
"Damn it, Angus. Shut up." Henry felt lightheaded.
"Leave him alone," Tina angrily told Angus.
Henry’s mind swirled with the memory of the attack…the moment of disbelief, the realization that it was happening…the rapid clakclakclak sound of machine guns firing…panic screams of terror…
"Mowed down right before his very eyes, his wife, Catherine, and his little Constance were," Angus said, his voice piercing Henry’s bloody vision of the past like an ice pick. "It was just over one year later that I met him. He was barely there…he wasn’t working because he had the life insurance money to live on, and he spent most of that on liquor. When I walked into his house I couldn’t breathe…the bloody stench was unbearable. He was like a zombie in front of the telly, a bottle of vodka by his side. He didn’t see me, even when he looked at me. It was like I wasn’t there…or maybe it was more like he wasn’t there."
"God damn you," Henry said tightly. He was barely in control. He fought the demons inside that had been so successfully quelled for so long that he’d almost forgotten about them…almost. The demons could never be truly forgotten. He happened to glance over at Tina, saw her looking at him with pity in her eyes. He didn’t want her looking at him that way.
"I showed him the light, I did," Angus continued. "I had the goods on who was behind the murder of his lovely wife and beautiful child. I knew who’d planned and executed the attack on the tour bus. I also knew where the funding had come from, and who it was that protected the money source. I knew it all, and I offered them all to Henry, gave him the power to decide their fate…to forgive and forget, live and let live…or to be their judge, jury, and executioner. He chose the latter, of course, as I’d been told he would…and has been working for Oracle ever since."
Christie had been scribbling notes as fast as she could, almost manically.
Henry closed his eyes against the images that were assaulting him. He’d erased those early days from his memory, the aftermath of the terrorist attack on the bus…the alcohol-induced stupor that only wound up making him feel even more pathetic and weak, even more responsible for the destruction of his family. It’d been his dream to see the Great Pyramids. His dream, not Catherine’s, and Constance had no idea what was going on. She’d wanted to go to Disney World.
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