by Ronda Pauley
The sound of Big Sam’s voice comforted Abbi. He knelt down, trying to avoid the mess on the floor, and checked her pulse. Using a penlight, he looked in her light green eyes and asked a few questions. Then he patted Abbi on the shoulder and said, “That was close!”
“I, uh, I don’t think I need a doctor,” Abbi told him. “But I’m woozy.”
“Let’s move out of the way. There are other benches over there.”
Big Sam indicated where they would go and helped Abbi. Louise seemed unaffected by the blast.
Shoe Clerk arrived as they were moving to an out-of-the-way location in the huge rotunda.
“Abbi, I wouldn’t have let you come here if I’d known. I’m sorry,” he said.
“It was crazy!” Abbi said.
Big Sam said, “I’m glad you came back, Shoe Clerk. Can you get the location on the first attempted suicide bomber? We need to run some facts. Can you take care of that? Later, meet up with us at headquarters.”
“Sure, boss!” Shoe Clerk left as quickly as he arrived.
“Can you tell me what just happened? Did that bomber guy explode from the inside out?” Abbi asked as she sat down again on a bench closer to the entrance and farther away from the scene.
Big Sam paused before he checked Louise. Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned back to Abbi.
“Exactly. How’d you know?”
“He clutched his belly.”
“Both of you ladies could have been killed, but the explosive device evidently malfunctioned,” he said softly. “That man was personally delivering an IED, probably targeting someone upstairs. The fact that his explosive device passed undetected through the scanner tells me he either had it hidden in a body cavity or, and this may sound crazy, he swallowed it.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Abbi said.
“The IED likely detonated sooner than planned. The limited damage leads me to believe it must have malfunctioned.”
“What a mess! His phone rang right before the explosion,” Abbi said, in case there was a connection. She wiped her face and hands with a sterilized wipe from her briefcase.
“Probably the signal that did him in,” Big Sam said.
“Yeah. He looked at his phone right before it rang,” Louise said.
“And started running. Maybe he was late,” Abbi added.
Big Sam looked at them both.
“I think you’re right. He probably saw the time and knew that he was outside of his time frame. Traffic had been slowed because of securing off this area after the bomb that fizzled here earlier this morning. For awhile after that, people had been denied entry.”
“So this guy was a suicide bomber, the back-up plan? The first attempt fizzled, totally missed its target, and then this guy’s bomb went off early!” Abbi said.
“Exactly. Suicide bombers often work in pairs. We’re not sure yet as to who did this. This building should have been closed earlier today and left closed for the day. Security knew better. Protocol flew out the window on this one. For that matter, we should have dismantled this plan and sent you somewhere else.”
“I wouldn’t want to be the Number 2 man!” Louise said, glancing over as paramedics covered the body. Her body convulsed in one big shiver.
“But what or, uh, who was the target?” Abbi asked.
“I really can’t say,” Big Sam replied. “As you know, a meeting was scheduled upstairs.”
Can’t say or won’t say? Abbi wondered. She knew ATF agents played their cards close to the chest. Big Sam was no exception.
“I thought you were still in Virginia,” Abbi said.
“There seemed to be a tie-in to what happened here,” Big Sam said. He was much friendlier to her than when she last saw him.
“Really? Then you know why we’re here, don’t you?” Abbi asked. She thought she’d take a chance and find out what he knew. This couldn’t have just been coincidence.
“The important thing is that you’re safe. Don’t worry about the rest. Gate Keeper asked me to check on you and give you this note from Mrs. Hightower. Things have gotten more complicated. He can’t come, and the meeting isn’t going on here now. FBI is setting up temporary headquarters near here.”
Big Sam passed Abbi a note.
“Read this carefully, commit every word to memory, then chew it up and swallow it. Are you well enough to walk?” he asked.
“I think so,” Abbi asked. “But I’m not sure I feel well enough to swallow it.”
“No. Probably not,” Big Sam said as he looked at the floor where she had been.
“We burned the last one,” Louise said.
Abbi studied the note hard so that it would sink into her foggy brain.
Big Sam seemed to be overacting his script. That concerned her. Maybe it was just that he took his job seriously but he couldn’t be serious about swallowing the note. Could he?
Abbi asked, “Are we safe now?”
Louise adjusted Abbi’s wig.
“Safer than a wart on a toad’s back,” Big Sam said, then hesitated before he spoke again. “No. Really, we’re not. Do what the note says. She’s still in the building and waiting for you. Take the back stairs up two flights before they get cordoned off or you’ll be stopped. Don’t be afraid to say what you need to say.”
“Big Sam, you’re not still mad at me?”
“No. Sometimes personal instincts trump direct orders.”
The area looked secure. The building’s security personnel were cordoning off the scene while ATF agents checked to avoid further detonation. Some people returned to collect specimens. Another took photos. One made an outline around the dead man’s body, as well as she could. No need for a coroner. The man’s physical condition was not conducive to life.
Abbi stared as a small crowd of people came out of a room above the large marble staircase. The horrified onlookers became frantic as they looked over the banister and began to realize what had happened. On part of the lower portion of the stairway lay small scattered pieces of metal and wire, remnants of a bomb. And there, among these fragments, the onlookers could see the twisted, messy remains of the terrorist.
For the second time that day, security officers began the swift evacuation of this building. Sirens rang.
“Go NOW,” Big Sam said, “while you have the chance. She’s waiting for you.”
“Won’t she have to leave?” Abbi asked, studying Big Sam’s face.
“She has security clearance and a special mission that involves you.”
Abbi and Louise stood up carefully. Abbi stared at the name on the note.
“Wait, Sam, what’s this got to do with my mother?”
“My best guess? Some analysts have cracked a transnational human trafficking ring in Colombia. The CIA is trying to move on it but diplomacy is getting in the way. Your mother uncovered a goldmine of missing persons information for the FBI before her abduction, and the people who are holding her probably know it. Maybe that information was the missing folder. Who knows? Be careful, girls! These people would stop at nothing. GO!”
“OK, Big Sam. Thanks, I think,” Abbi said quietly. She gave him a hug.
Abbi read over the note one more time, replaying the words in her mind. She put the dry note in her mouth, a note that Mrs. Hightower had sent—along with a very private P.S. just for her from Gate Keeper. That message alone was worth chewing on. Louise looked at her in awe.
“You’re not actually doing that, are you?”
Abbi opened her mouth to show her, then finished chewing it up. After a hard gulp, she began picking the wet and ragged fragments of paper out of her teeth. She got a baby wipe out of her briefcase and washed herself off. Then she took a drink from her water bottle.
“Wow! That’s just what I needed! My mouth feels so much fresher now!”
FORTY-FOUR
Abbi faltered on the stair landing on the way up to the second floor where huge tall columns bordered a balcony overlooking the scene of the bombing attempt. The horrifyi
ng scene lay below them now but the sight and fury of ATF investigators made Abbi’s knees feel weak. Again she still felt dizzy.
“We could have been killed!” Abbi whispered, echoing what Big Sam had said and suddenly realizing how close they came.
Louise nodded.
“Stop! You can’t go there!” a booming voice called from the first floor. It was the same security guard, obviously having a bad day.
“Personal security staff for Mrs. Hightower,” Abbi said, moving on as she held onto the rail to steady herself. She added, “She summoned us.”
The second floor opened onto the Gallery of Heroes, where national flags of the member states, smaller than the ones outside, hung proudly over the busts of dignitaries and visionaries from North, Central, and South America and the Caribbean. The flags and busts lined both sides of the enormous hall. Abbi had been directed to go to a board room on this floor.
She thought about the note. Mrs. Hightower, also known to Lowell as The Silent Avenger, was sweet little Nanny Fanny to Abbi, or at least used to be. She had learned that Mrs. Hightower held a strong dislike for politicians who overlooked crimes against humanity in favor of payoffs to maintain the status quo. In her own quiet way, Mrs. Hightower had made a living by finding ways to bring corrupt politicians to justice.
Mrs. Hightower, with enemies both numerous and powerful, may have been the one the suicide bombers were trying to get.
Strange. Abbi once saw her in an entirely different light. But now, so many lights were going off about Mrs. Hightower that if she were a pinball machine, she’d be rocking!
“You’re getting some color back. How do you feel?” Louise asked.
“Queezy stomach, but we’re here! And I’m not going to throw up.”
“That’s better!” Louise said with a fist bump. “You can’t turn back now. It’s time.
Big Sam is still downstairs. Don’t be afraid.”
“Fear shall not be my enemy. It only makes me stronger,” Abbi said with determination, as if quotes could renew her courage.
“Wish I could say that. I really don’t want to see Mrs. Hightower,” Louise said. “I’ve heard too much about her. She looks weird and seems to have demonic powers.”
“She’s not the enemy,” Abbi said. “I know her in a different light.”
“But why is she here?” Louise said.
“Change of plans, that’s all I know,” Abbi said.
Abbi’s courage returned as her head cleared. Her instructions said that halfway down the hallway she would find a closed door with a sticky note: Mrs. Hightower.
“Oops! Not home. I guess we’ll have to go,” Abbi said lightly, trying to relieve her tension. Then she looked squarely at Louise and asked, “Are you ready for this?”
“Frankly, I’m scared,” Louise answered. “You already wrecked their plans once!”
“No, I didn’t wreck their plans. When NM2 didn’t plan to hand over my mother, that wrecked the FBI’s plans. Then the suicide bomber here just wrecked their plans again. But I did not wreck their plans.”
Silently Abbi said a prayer, hoping for the strength to move ahead with this assignment. She inhaled deeply. A bad smell lingered in the air, or maybe she had inhaled it and couldn’t get it out of her body. She winced at the thought.
The words she memorized played silently in her mind.
“Is the suicide bomber part of NM2?” Louise asked.
“Someone knows, but I don’t. It was weird though, how he looked at me.”
“But with the wig and these clothes, I can’t imagine he would have known who you are!”
Having been badly shaken by the suicide bomber, Abbi had finally regained her composure and stood now at the door of The Francisco de Miranda Room where Mrs. Hightower waited. She stared a moment at the large wooden door.
Now that her fog-brain began to clear, pieces that had been missing began to take shape. Lost pieces appeared and began fitting together. She could still see her mother in a room, isolated. Then quick flashes: Constraint. Tied to a chair. A gag in her mouth. Then other pieces of the puzzle--information from the law complex, Lowell’s note, the tattoos, notes and reports of NM2 from her mother’s office, the mysterious missing report, Miss Sobori’s account of the young girl who had been trafficked, things her mother had said before she left, and now, especially, the botched rescue of her mother—all came together to form a more complete picture.
Abbi, angered by events, felt ready for anything. The light in her brain was back on and shining bright like a diamond in the sun. She knew she would do whatever she had been called to do, whatever the risk.
She knocked on the massive door, smiled at Louise, and heard the familiar voice saying, “Please come in.”
Mrs. Hightower sat with her back to them near a large centrally-located table. She stood up and looked out the window that was beyond a row of heavy leather chairs. The woman may have been looking at the gathering crowd, the reporters, the onlookers, and people leaving the scene hurriedly. Abbi imagined that some of the people were stopping to talk to reporters about the incident they had luckily escaped.
The colorfully flowing robes that Mrs. Hightower wore showed she had an eye for style and not much desire to wear office attire. Her dark complexion and shortly cropped hair completed the picture of a benevolent mastermind. She turned toward them and her face lit up.
“Well, I see you got up here safely! Sometimes things don’t go according to plan. I would not have brought you here if I had known the danger. Let this old woman give you a hug!” Mrs. Hightower said as she rose from the desk. She moved toward the door and closed it firmly before their embrace. Louise held back, but Mrs. Hightower reached out to her.
“Now, child. I would not hurt you,” she said to Louise.
Then, in a long embrace, she whispered to Abbi that her father had gone through a successful surgery and just needed to sleep and recuperate at this point. “He can’t speak yet,” she added, “but he will. I’m sure.”
Mrs. Hightower, stepped back, shook her head and said to both girls, “I believe we’re safe in here now and can talk. It’s very unlikely that a third suicide bomber would be lined up, but security is even tighter than usual, of course. I’m surprised they made it past Mrs. Blackburn down there. Must have been a specially-made bomb.”
“Big Sam thought the man had swallowed the detonating device.”
“Sounds like a good guess. He’s just the man who would know.”
Abbi stood in awe in the presence of this woman and wondered still if they might be related. Although Abbi had very curly hair and her own skin was lighter, she could see similarities and the thought made her proud. She thought she deserved an answer, and if Mrs. Hightower was the suicide bomber’s intended target, Abbi might not have another chance.
Getting up her nerve, Abbi asked, “Are you my grandmother?”
The woman sighed deeply.
“Yes, dear! I’m afraid that’s a very old secret and you mustn’t let on that you know, not yet. Nanny Fanny, Granny Francie, Francine DuBois and more, all in one.”
“I knew it, oh, I knew it!!!” Abbi squealed with excitement. She never, ever, would have guessed that Nanny Fanny was the horrible Francine DuBois, a woman she thought wanted nothing to do with her or her father. The pinball machine in her mind with its many lights had even more lights now, going off like fireworks!
Still harboring unanswered questions, she asked, “Why did you leave?”
The woman said, “Hush now! First, our relationship has to remain a secret, at least for now. You can keep a secret, can’t you?”
She turned to Louise.
“And you, Miss Louise?”
Louise simply nodded, apparently speechless.
“I left to protect you, my Abeni. It was better for you if some people thought I was dead. Your parents knew but they had to protect us all.”
She reached out to hug Abbi again, kissing Abbi’s forehead and her hands, and then she touched Loui
se’s cheek.
“As a participant in the witness protection program, my new identity had to be a secret but, although I moved away and left your family, Abbi, I kept working for the Bureau under this new name and a new job title. The agency needed me to complete my work. There was too much at stake to walk away from everything I had investigated, and from the life I had invested. I hoped it might be too obvious to be obvious. Some things just are. Remember this, things are rarely as they appear.”
“So why reveal yourself to me now?”
“The time seemed right, my dear. Who knows what tomorrow holds? Please both of you young ladies be seated,” she said, indicating leather chairs close to the desk as she returned to her chair. Her robes were like butterfly wings. “Things have been happening fast. We don’t have all the answers, but we have analysts who are working hard to bring the facts to light, and that’s where you come in. Ready to listen?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the two girls said.
“Lowell is making preparations for your arrival which must be completed before closing time. Obviously, events beyond our control have made it necessary to move to a new location. The logistics of moving equipment takes time but should be nearly ready. As you can imagine, it has to be rather covert. At the same time, to an onlooker, it should appear natural. It will seem that Lowell and the others with him are setting up a new display at a museum, that museum being The International House of Spies. Again, too obvious to be obvious.”
“We’re staying in a museum?”
“You catch on quickly. That’s important to your success on this mission. Now, let’s get to the relevant facts that brought you both here. Abeni, you know both your parents are in trouble. Your father was injured in an attack, and rests under watchful eyes in a military hospital. He is registered under an assumed name that I can’t reveal right now. His condition is critical. The doctors feel it might be good for him to see his daughter. He indicates that he wants to see you whenever he’s conscious. No promises, but we will do our best to get you in to see him.”
Abbi felt her nose getting hot and tears filling her eyes. She wanted to speak, to say all that she was thinking. All that came out was a feeble and heartfelt, “Thank you!”
