The second car was Molly’s. She drove directly to her home, anxious to look in on Elizabeth. A third took the Westporters who had watched over Bannerman during his meeting with Leland. He had never seen who they were.
Bannerman drove his own car. He took Billy McHugh with him. They were headed for Molly’s house as well. He used the time to brief Billy on all that had happened, including his last call to Leland. Billy listened without speaking, without visibly reacting, except that he’d stiffened at the part about Aisha. At the end of it, he said, “I should get down there with Waldo.”
“I need you to stick close to Elizabeth.”
“Whatever they done to her…”
“To Aisha?”
“Yeah, Aisha. Whatever they done to her, I’m going to do worse.”
“You may well get your chance very soon.”
Billy asked, “What’s this list? The one Leland thinks you got.”
“It’s the names of all those who’ve attended Bourne’s brunches. It might, if fact, be a useful thing to have. It shouldn’t be hard to construct.”
“We’re going after them all?”
“Oh, no,” said Bannerman. “Most are none of our business. Most have no knowledge or involvement in this.”
“You think the rest of them are Boy Scouts?”
“That’s not what I said. We’ll focus on the Angolan connection. Our plate will be full as it is.”
Billy mouthed the word “plate.”
“Beg pardon?” said Bannerman.
“Heads on a plate. Didn’t they used to do that?”
“There’s a…biblical story. John the Baptist and Salome. Is that what you’re thinking about?”
“Yeah, I guess. Is that where Kessler got the idea?”
“No, Kessler’s inspiration was first hand; it was personal. A woman named Sara. She was Mossad. Someone sent her head to Kessler.”
“That someone was one of the heads he sent Bourne?”
“After Kessler was through with him, yes.”
Billy fell silent. Then, “I got a bad feeling.”
“Aisha again?”
He nodded. “What if Bourne…?”
“Beheads her?” asked Bannerman. “Waldo won’t let that happen.”
“Waldo won’t unless it happened already. I have such a bad feeling about this.”
“Billy…for Pete’s sake, don’t say that to Elizabeth. She’s probably going crazy as it is.”
But she wasn’t.
When they reached Molly’s attic, they found Elizabeth in a daze. She was lying with her eyes partly closed. Her hands and feet were bound with extension cords. Molly or Carla had spread out some seat cushions in an effort to make her more comfortable on the floor. Her wrists and her ankles were rubbed raw from the struggle.
Carla was busy printing out stills that she’d taken from Molly’s surveillance Carla tapes. There were joggers, bicyclists, deliverymen. There were roofers, house painters, men in slow-moving cars. A car moving slowly meant nothing in itself. The posted speed limit was 20. But none of the faces were familiar to her. That was her only standard for the moment.
Bannerman noticed bite marks on one of Carla’s wrists and he saw that her upper lip was swollen. Molly, who had been the first to return, was busy at one of her radios. She sat with a headset held against one ear as she played with her toggles and dials.
Carla looked up at Bannerman and Billy who were standing over Elizabeth. She said, “I had to force-feed her some pills.” She rolled her arm at them, displaying her bite mark. “She tried to swallow part of me instead.”
Bannerman lowered himself to Elizabeth’s side. He spoke to her. “Elizabeth? Can you hear me?”
Her eyes moved, but they could not seem to find him. Her breathing seemed shallow and irregular. Bannerman asked Carla, “What have to you given her?”
“Seconal. Sleeping pills, mashed up in water while Molly had her in a headlock.”
“How many did you give her? What strength?”
“I’m not sure how much of it she actually swallowed, but I gave her a pretty good hit. About ten.”
“You don’t consider that dangerous?”
“Not as dangerous as she is. She could use a nice nap. She’ll be down for anywhere from eight to twelve hours. You could do with some shut-eye yourself.”
“Why was this needed? What was she going to do?”
“Grab her duffel, go to Bridgeport, hi-jack a small plane. I’m not sure she thought it out beyond that. There’s a silenced Mac-10 in her duffel, by the way, along with her blacks and her knives. We tried to tell her we’re not sure where they were taken. She didn’t care. If she had Bourne, she’d have them. She’d have cored out one of his eyes with her knife and saved the other one for her next question.”
Bannerman touched her sore wrists. “Does she still need these cords?”
“They’ll make it easier,” said Carla, “to haul her downstairs without whacking her head too many times.” She said, “Billy, can you stash her in one of the bedrooms? Bring back the cords. They’re not spares.”
Billy said to Bannerman, “I could take her to my house. That way me and my wife can watch her together. I got too many bad thoughts to sit alone.”
Carla rose from the printer. “I’ll give you a hand.” She flashed a handful of photo lifts at Bannerman. “I have to get to Town Hall. They close early on Saturday. I need to see if they recognize the two guys who were in there checking out when we cut our grass.”
“Our grass?”
“Not to mention where all of us live and our floor plans. Someone in records tipped Anton. He put me to work.”
“But our grass? Why would anyone ask about that?”
Molly raised a hand before Carla could answer. She said, “I’m getting it. They’ve found Kessler. But he’s not coming here.”
Bannerman glanced at Elizabeth. She didn’t react. He asked, “Who was that on the radio?”
“He’s still holding. It’s Netanya’s agent in charge. He was with Kessler when Kessler called earlier. He got Kessler to a radio and put him on with Netanya. But he doesn’t think the call reassured him.”
“Did Netanya tell him that Elizabeth’s with us?”
“He did, but then Netanya tried to patch him through to Westport. I wasn’t here to take it. Carla couldn’t work this radio. Kessler lost patience and took off again.”
“Took off to where?”
Molly made a grimace. “This part isn’t good. They say he’s called up a company of Duganga’s troops and they’re moving toward Luanda with Katyushas, Russian rockets. They say he plans to drop a few dozen on VaalChem. They won’t have to go far to be in range.”
“Are you saying that Kessler wouldn’t take Yitzhak’s word?”
“I guess not. Wait a second. Let me ask.”
She had a further exchange with the agent in charge. She turned again in her seat to face Bannerman.
“He says Kessler wasn’t buying that they couldn’t get through to us. See what happens when we have these little lapses? Kessler decided that Netanya was stalling him to keep him from hammering VaalChem. An attack like that on VaalChem won’t just flatten VaalChem. It could wipe out half of half of coastal Angola if the rockets spread that stuff VaalChem makes. It’s also because Netanya couldn’t give him an answer when he asked whether Aisha was safe as well. Remember, we didn’t know that Aisha had been taken when I first got through to Netanya.”
“Are they still trying to get Kessler to talk to us directly?”
“They’re trying,” said Molly, “but then what? He’ll want to talk to Elizabeth. He’ll believe you if you tell him why we had to calm her down, but what will you say about Aisha?”
“That we’re handling it,” said Bannerman.
“But that we’re taking our time?”
Bannerman glared at her. “I thought we’d been through this.”
“Sorry. Frustration. Look what it’s done to Kessler.”
He
said, “Kessler, for the moment, is the more pressing problem. He’s either bluffing about VaalChem or he isn’t. If he is, he’ll be contacting Artemus Bourne to threaten VaalChem’s destruction. If he isn’t bluffing, he’s gone over the edge. Netanya will have no choice but to stop him.”
“Kill him?”
“Stop him,” said Bannerman. “One way or the other. Netanya might hope that it’s only a bluff, but what happens if Bourne calls him on it?”
“Then he’d have to show that the bluff has some teeth.” Molly asked, “What would you do in his place?”
“I might launch a few Katyushas to get his attention, but I’d drop them around the perimeter.”
He paused, then grimaced as he recalled Greta Kirch’s description of such a facility. Especially the bio-containment rings and their width.
He said to Molly, “Put me through to Netanya.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking.”
“Netanya’s right,” said Bannerman. “He’ll need to know that I agree. He might well have to kill Martin Kessler.”
THIRTY FIVE
Aisha’s mother had come to her twice in her dreams.
In the first one, her mother had slipped into her bed and snuggled up with her and kissed her. That wasn’t unusual. She’d done that many times. She would lie there with Aisha, not saying a word, just smiling and stroking her hair.
Two things were different about the first dream. The first was her bed. It didn’t feel right. It was hard and it vibrated and it pressed on her ribs. That made it hard to breathe and her face had been hurting. But the hurt went away at her mother’s first kiss and the bed soon began to feel softer.
The second thing that was different was that her mother seemed sad. Aisha asked her, “Is something wrong?”
Her mother said, “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just that I miss you. And I’ve been a little selfish about it.”
“Selfish how?”
Her mother sighed. “Never mind. Go to sleep.”
Aisha nudged her with her shoulder. “No, tell me.”
“It’s just that…well…for a little while earlier, I thought you were coming to be with me.”
Aisha didn’t understand. “Mom, I’m with you right now.”
“No, I meant…something different. Something more than a visit. For a while there, I thought you’d stopped breathing.”
“It’s this bed. It got hard, but it’s much better now.” Aisha paused. “Wait a minute. You mean dying?”
“No one dies.”
“Moving on, then.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what was selfish. I almost found myself hoping. But your father reminded me that you’re only sixteen. He said he misses you too, but we can wait.”
“Were you both at my party?”
“Uh-huh. You drank wine.”
“Mother, I had two tiny sips.”
Her mother nudged her back. She said, “Oh, I’m kidding. The holy book never says that you can’t touch the stuff. All it says is that alcohol does more harm than good and it warns against getting sloshed.”
Aisha said, “Hmmph. I don’t think that’s verbatim.”
“Close enough. It’s in 2:219. Check it out.”
Her mother wasn’t really a Muslim. Well, she was, but not from the beginning. She was Lebanese by birth and a Maronite Christian. She’d embraced Islam, or rather she added it, when she agreed to marry her father. The gentlest parts of both religions were essentially the same. They were the parts that most Muslims live by. One God, a loving God, a giver of blessings who expects all who get them to pass them along. And one who doesn’t take kindly to sleazes.
Her mother suddenly stiffened. She said, “I have to go.” She said, “Oh, my gosh. I’ll take care of them. Don’t worry. I’ll be back very soon.”
Aisha had no idea what she meant. Her mother left. Her bed went hard again. She would have been more comfortable sitting in a soft chair, but her body didn’t seem to want to move. And other dreams came. They were angry dreams. Confusing. Two men running at her out of a house. One of the men had wavy blond hair and the other one’s head was almost shaved. In the dream it seemed to be Elizabeth’s house. Running at her. Someone shouting. That was all she remembered.
Except later, before her mother came back, she had a dream in which those two men were shouting at each other. No, wait. There were three of them. Three different voices. She thought that she heard them say Elizabeth’s name. And in that dream one of them was almost on top of her. He was partly in the space that her mother had left and he was resting his head on her butt. It wasn’t nasty or anything. He wasn’t nuzzling her or touching her. She just wished that he would find another bed.
Her wish came true. He got up and went out. She heard a door slide open and closed, so he must have gone out onto the balcony. Soon after that, she heard two loud noises. There was one, like a door slamming shut, and then silence. A minute later, she heard a frightened male voice and again, the loud slamming sound. After a while, a smaller door opened and she felt her bed vibrating again. But at least there wasn’t any more arguing.
Her mother came back. This time she just sat. Her mother rubbed her shoulders and hummed very softly and soon the bed was soft once again. And this time her mother wasn’t alone. Jasmine was there. And Nadia was there. They’d never been in one of these dreams before this. It had always been just Aisha and her mother.
They both looked confused. More so Nadia, than Jasmine. Nadia was looking all over the place as if she’d taken a wrong turn and gotten lost. Jasmine looked as if she’d gotten there first, but still hadn’t figured it out.
She heard her mother say, “I’m Leyna. I’ll be with you in a minute.” Leyna was her mother’s Christian name.
Jasmine moved closer. She was squinting at her mother. Then her eyes popped wide open. Jasmine asked, “Did you say Leyna? You…look just like Aisha.”
“I’m Leyna Bandari. Aisha’s mother.”
“If… you’re Aisha’s mother, then we’re in deep shit.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just not in Kuwait…never mind. You’re both okay. Really. It gets better from here. Give me just another minute with Aisha.”
“Where is Aisha?” asked Nadia, who was suddenly alarmed.
“She’s right here. But not like you. We’re just visiting.”
Nadia said, “I can’t see her. Why can’t I see her?”
“Well, it’s something that you sort of have to work your way up to. She can see you because she’s only dreaming. I don’t understand the distinction myself, but it’s how things seem to work around here.”
Jasmine asked, “If she’s dreaming, she’s still alive right?”
“She’s alive,” said Aisha’s mother. “She’s in trouble, but alive.”
Aisha asked, “I’m in trouble? What trouble?”
“I’ll stay with you. Don’t worry. So will Jasmine and Nadia. And Elizabeth will be coming to help you.”
Jasmine asked, “So she’s cookin’? Those three bozos didn’t get her?”
“Wait a minute,” said Aisha. She asked Jasmine, “Are you dead?”
“They can’t hear you,” said her mother. “But they have moved on, yes.”
“Oh, wait. Wait a minute. Is this just in my dream?”
“No, it’s true,” said her mother. “I just found out myself. Their lives were taken, but there wasn’t much pain.”
Her mother’s tone was sympathetic, but toward Aisha, not her friends. From her mother’s point of view, a life was not a great loss. She had surely felt differently before she was murdered, but she now saw life as a preparatory interval. A life wasted was a far greater tragedy than one shortened.
Aisha had not yet subscribed to that view. This particular shortening seemed terribly unfair.
She said, “It’s too soon. They’re too young.”
“Well, your father and I weren’t in our dotage either. But you’ve learned that we’re not really gone. Same with them.”
/> Aisha didn’t ask who had killed them and when. In these dreams, that would seem an incidental detail. Nor were their deaths necessarily final. She asked, “Can you help them come back?”
“I’d like to, for your sake,” said her mother.
“But can you?”
“They can’t come back, honey. And very soon, they won’t want to. At the moment, they’d both like to shorten a few lives, but they’re much more concerned about you.”
Aisha persisted. She said, “Claudia came back. How come Claudia was able to come back?”
“Um…who is this Claudia?” asked her mother.
“She’s a woman I met. She got shot and she died. But she came back as a guardian angel.”
“Is she one of the women you met on that boat? On the night you snuck off with Elizabeth?”
“Yes.”
“She talks to animals and such? She knows things before they happen?”
“Yes, and…well, she throws knives,” Aisha told her.
“Give me a minute. I’ll ask. Be right back.”
Her mother didn’t actually leave. She never seemed to have to in these dreams. She would only close her eyes and roll her head a few times. She did the same thing when she was alive and would be thinking, as now, about the answer to a question. But alive, she wouldn’t say, “Be right back.”
She was only gone for a moment or two. She opened her eyes. She said, “That would be Claudia Geller, correct?”
“Yes. That’s her name. So she was there?”
“Not all the way, no,” said her mother. “She was sent back; quite a few people are. But she wasn’t sent back with any wonderful new talents. Whatever gifts she had, she’d had all the time. The big difference was that now she believed in them, Aisha. Belief can do remarkable things. You’ve been blessed with some special gifts yourself.”
Aisha understood. It’s what Elizabeth had said. She said it was enough that it was true in her mind. But Elizabeth had also said that dreams weren’t real.
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