Come Home

by Patricia Gussin

  Was Jafari responsible for this? His father? Or could this be a rogue operation—a kidnapping for money by insiders gone bad?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  BERK’S MEN HAD already disabled the cameras trained on the driveway entrance at the Masud estate in the exclusive Mohandessin district of Giza. The black Land Cruiser pulled next to the security hut. Just minutes before, the team had cut the feed that controlled the internal security system. There should be no flashing lights or screaming alarms. Nicole knew nothing of the technicalities. Berk had concisely explained his tactics, “In Egypt, a bribe can get the job done.” She hoped he was right. The three Hunks who had left the hotel earlier were nowhere in sight.

  Sudden motion. Armed men, wearing black fatigues and face masks, charged the guard hut. As Berk had explained, his men carried drug darts as well as guns. Nicole wondered whether these exotic weapons were routine in the arsenal of Monica and Patrick’s twenty-four-hour security.

  Berk’s tactic must have worked as the heavy security gate rolled open; one black-clad man remained in the hut and two jumped into the back of the Land Cruiser. The driver continued up the winding driveway, coming to a stop at the west-side door of the estate’s main building. Nicole held her breath and squeezed Rob’s hand as a black-clad man jumped out, wielding a gun-shaped instrument that he applied to the door. Almost instantly, he was inside.

  “Let’s go,” Berk said, holding the Cruiser door for her. “You, too, Rob. Safer inside with us.”

  “Good deal,” Rob said. “I’m coming.”

  Nicole tried to keep her heart rate down as she stepped into the hallway that led to Jafari and Aurera’s quartile of the compound. The playroom located in their section easily accommodated their four children. She hoped to find Alex in there with his eight-year-old and ten-year-old cousins. With the Masud women off the premises, the child caretakers would want all the kids together. Unless, of course, Alex was somewhere with Ahmed, who reportedly had not gone out that day. Berk had said: if Ahmed is a problem, we’ll disable him.

  Berk led Nicole and Rob inside. Clearly, he had studied the layout—from the drawing she’d created, as well as from aerial shots of the compound—and whatever information he’d bribed out of some insider. He seemed confident. In only a few minutes she’d have Alex back. She was gratified to see the three Hunks on-site, sticking close by. The three men who’d been so effective at the driveway hut now functioned as Berk’s advance team to deal with any security or servant or family member they might encounter.

  They approached the playroom. The door was open. She heard kids’ voices but no matter how intently she listened, Nicole did not hear Alex’s voice. Berk stopped at the doorway, the Hunks interposed between him and Nicole and Rob.

  “No Alex in there,” Berk pronounced in a whisper, but with finality.

  Hunk Ginger nodded to Nicole—she could step inside, now. No more little-kids place. A pool table, a ping-pong table. Video game stations. Jafari’s kids were into the same stuff as her brothers’ kids in Philadelphia. A twentyish woman in slacks and a t-shirt sat reading a book. She and Jafari’s two sons looked up. Would they recognize her in the black wig mostly covered by the hijab?

  “Secure the woman and the kids,” Berk said to Hunk Black. “No drugs. Just keep them quiet.”

  “Where’s …” Nicole almost said Alex … “Wati?”

  The answer came from the younger of the two boys. In Arabic. She didn’t understand. One of Berk’s men translated. “That little kid? He left with Uncle Ahmed.”

  “Ask them where they went,” Nicole blurted. “Tell them that I’m Wati’s mother. Their aunt.” She removed her scarf, exposing blond hair, pinned back into a bun.

  Hunk Black stepped forward, and the translator said something that made the young woman cringe. Nicole didn’t understand the Arabic, but she got the threatening tone.

  In response to the translator’s remark, the older boy—ten years old—stood up, belligerent. If you blinked, you’d miss Hunk Black’s swoop, capturing both of the boy’s arms with one hand, his other hand raised within inches of the boy’s face.

  The kid sat back down with minimal encouragement from Hunk Black. In the meantime, one of the other men had the younger child bound and gagged with soft restraints and was heading to the woman. She seemed to know better than to cry out. Maybe she had understood Berk’s English.

  “Where are Ahmed and Wati?” Nicole repeated. She had a feeling the question got through, but the translator provided the Arabic.

  The ten-year-old shook his head. “I don’t know.” Body firmly in chair, tears starting to well.

  In Arabic, the nanny said, “Ahmed Masud came for your son this morning. Before breakfast. The child had been staying with these boys. I don’t know where he is now. Your son was very happy to see his father. That’s all I know.” As the translator related this, Nicole believed the nanny.

  “Let’s go,” Berk said, turning to leave. As he did, another of his men reported, “Nothing in the east wing. All servants secured in that wing. No sign of the husband or the kid. They say Jafari left in the morning with the two of them, but later returned—without them. And without a guy they call Mohamed, Jafari’s chief of security.”

  “That bastard Mohamed is with them?” Berk’s face didn’t change. “Shit.”

  “No one saw them leave the property. No one saw them since then.”

  “Berk, I just remembered.” Nicole had always been credited with an enviable memory. “There’s a tunnel leading out of the compound. Ahmed said it was supposed to be a secret tunnel, but he and Neema, his sister, knew about it.”

  “We’re heading for the parents,” Berk said, his voice cool. “The father will know.”

  Led by Berk, the party barged into the sacrosanct original section of the compound where Harere and Umi Masud had conceived and borne all five of their living children—and more who had died either at birth or in childhood, Nicole wasn’t sure. The suite always had been off limits to anyone other than the couple, and servants. When the Masud matriarch and patriarch wanted to spend time with family or friends, they chose among many other spaces, depending on the occasion. They would emerge from their private quarters located mid-compound, way in the back. Nicole had never been inside the double doors to her in-laws’ domain.

  Surrounded by his armed men—Nicole didn’t know if they had live ammunition or only stun guns and super-fentanyl pellet darts—Berk barged through the doors. In an instant, Nicole heard, “clear” and “they’re alone.” Berk motioned Nicole and Rob inside. Even though she later recalled the luxurious interior design and extraordinary choice of fabrics, her immediate attention riveted on the elderly couple. The man—Ahmed’s father—lay propped up in a hospital bed. Gaunt, skin tinged yellow. Hooded eyes that filled with recognition as he struggled to sit upright. She hadn’t known how very ill he was. Her first inclination was to rush to the old man. He’d never been openly hostile, nor had his wife, always cordial, never warm. Not unexpected or inappropriate, Nicole thought. After all, she was the reason their son Ahmed never had moved back home—until now.

  At her husband’s sudden reaction, Harere turned from him toward the doorway, just as Nicole stepped inside. Ahmed’s mother covered her mouth with her hands. Her face and hands had wrinkled significantly more since the last time Nicole had come to Giza, and her uncovered glossy black hair was streaked with more gray.

  Nicole stood, speechless for a moment. Ahmed’s parents looked so pathetic. No children nearby—not even a servant.

  Berk kept his tone measured. “Mr. and Mrs. Masud, Nicole came here to see her son.” He hadn’t said “take” or “rescue”—going with the least threatening language. And yes, both Harere and Umi spoke English.

  Nicole stepped further into the room. “Where is Wati … and Ahmed?”

  “Who are these men?” Umi said. “Tell them to leave our private quarters. You may stay with us, Nicole, since you’ve come so far.”

 
; Nicole gestured for Berk and his men to leave the room. Rob followed. They’d gone over this beforehand. If conditions appeared safe, and the Masuds wanted to talk to her alone, they’d leave her there, listening devices in place.

  “I am very ill,” Umi began. “Not all in the family know. Just my sons, daughters … and Aurera.”

  Oh yes, Aurera knows everything.

  “Jafari will take control when I’m gone. And bad things are happening in my country.”

  Bad for whom? You oligarchs? Or the people, most who live in poverty? Or both?

  “That’s why we wanted Ahmed back. To help us. He knows about Western ways.”

  So far Harere had said nothing. But Nicole thought she could read something akin to pity in Mother’s dark, deep-set eyes.

  “What do you want him to do? And why did he take my son away from me?” Nicole held her breath. She was so close to the truth now. So close to being with Alex, holding him, comforting him, promising she’d never let him out of her sight.

  She almost didn’t hear it. Harere’s voice was a mere whisper. “My son took little Wati with him to South America.”

  Umi’s eyes flared anger. “No, woman, Jafari said to tell no one.”

  “This woman is my grandson’s mother. Wati missed her so. And, Umi, you still are the head of this family, not Jafari.”

  Nicole was standing before them. Umi angled to forty-five degrees, Harere sitting straight, matriarchal, in her bedside chair. Nicole felt her knees buckle and she stumbled to the ottoman at the end of the bed.

  “Where in South America?”

  Harere shook her head.

  Umi said, “Jafari didn’t tell us,” his voice a rasp. “Ahmed has left Egypt to accomplish urgent family business. Wati went with his father.”

  Berk had been so sure they’d be inside the compound. Nicole forced herself to stand back up.

  “When did they go?” Surveillance of the compound had obviously failed.

  Both Umi and Harere shook their heads. Only silence.

  “How can I get in touch with them?”

  “Jafari is the only one who knows,” Harere said. “You should go now.”

  Nicole saw tears gather in her father-in-law’s sad eyes.

  Arab men never cried.

  Berk chose that moment to knock, then enter the chamber. He gestured with his head for her to leave. “Nicole, give me a moment.”

  Berk had earned his place as Monica Monroe’s Chief of Security because of his familiarity with—and participation in—black ops. His background was violence.

  What would he do to this elderly couple?

  Whatever it takes to get Alex back to me.

  Nicole stepped outside the private suite and was joined in the anteroom by two of Berk’s men.

  “Are you okay?” Rob asked, his rough hand on her arm.

  “My husband took my son to South America,” she said. A flood of tears prevented further words.

  Berk came out a few minutes later. “Best guess is Uruguay. Jafari wanted to close a big real estate deal there—for the family, in case of trouble in Egypt.” He turned to the closest of his guys. “Check the vehicle; we’re going to the airport.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  WHEN THEY CLIMBED back inside the Land Cruiser, Rob had to control his tears phobia, temporarily at least. Nicole was a basket case, tears streamed down in torrents, her body shook. He had never seen her so distraught. Nothing he could do but hope she’d stop crying.

  The driver started the engine. “Are we sure he’s not here?” Nicole pleaded. The vehicle quickly pulled away. “Why did they go to South America? Maybe we should wait until Jafari gets back. He must know where Ahmed and Alex are.” Pause. “Are we sure—”

  “Jafari won’t be happy with our little home invasion, Nicole. Please tell me everything you can about that tunnel?”

  Perfect. Berk’s question would help Nicole get back on track. And Berk would get the information he needed. Probably.

  Nicole found a tissue in her purse. “Underneath the house. Ahmed used to sneak in there with his younger sister.”

  “Where does it lead?”

  “He didn’t say, but outside.”

  “That’s how he avoided our surveillance. Shit.”

  Nicole had come through, but her answer came too late. Rob understood her extreme distress. Suppose someone had abducted his Leslie when she’d been five? Yes, he understood. In part, that was why he was here. But he felt useless. Unable to do anything to help get his nephew back. For the first time since he’d left home, he was prey to his obsession with his failing business. He should be back home trying to find money to pay his subcontractors. Not riding around in Egypt, useless. He missed Natalie.

  What was Berk saying about going to South America? Now? He listened more closely. “Nicole, what do you know about the Masuds’ role in South America? Do they have businesses there? Homes? Relatives? That’s the only lead we got from your in-laws: South America … Uruguay. We found a map; a town on the coast was circled. Punta del Este. Mean anything?”

  South America? Rob had never been to that continent, either.

  Nicole sobbing again, leaned into Rob. What should he do? Should he draw her in, try to comfort her?

  “I never heard them discuss South America. But their cotton is shipped everywhere. They must have warehouses, customers …”

  “But no family estates?”

  “None that I know of, but Seth, the youngest brother, has a house in Brussels …” Her sobs erased whatever else she meant to say.

  “Let’s focus on South America,” Berk said. “Why would Ahmed head for South America?”

  Nicole did not respond until he repeated the question. “Why South America? Uruguay? Punta del Este? For a reason? Or just to take your son farther from your influence? I’ve been to Punta del Este. If Alex likes the beach, there are worse places …”

  As they headed out of Giza, Rob tried to appreciate the Cairo streets. The people’s varied garb, the architecture—most of the houses showing decades of homeowner inattention—lots of debris along the road. Berk had mentioned a youth movement—or was it a freedom movement?—simmering. Something about Facebook—not Rob’s department. But to him, all looked okay out there. People going about their business. Nothing radical.

  “We have a flight to Montevideo, Uruguay,” Berk said after talking into his headset. “My intel team is working to track any flights that Ahmed and Alex may have been on. Bribes work well in this part of the world, but the Masuds’ security is tight, so we may be flying blind, so to speak.”

  “Why take Alex so far away?” Nicole said. “It doesn’t make sense. Archy said his family needed support from the West, but they have a son who lives in Belgium, the center of the European Union. If he were to take Alex anywhere, I’d have thought it would be to Brussels where his brother Seth lives.”

  Berk fielded several phone calls. His input cryptic, demanding.

  “Our flight will be ready. Private plane. Use the same passports as we did coming in.”

  “Uh, I should be homeward bound—” Rob said, a question mark in his voice.

  “Rob, please?” Nicole grasped both his hands. “Please stick with us. I don’t think I could keep it together without you. Please.”

  Her teary eyes found his. Shit, he’d never been able to withstand a weeping woman.

  “Rob, it would be best if you could come,” Berk said. “Both to support Nicole and to maintain the ‘perfect couple’ image we may need in trying to extract Alex.”

  “I should call Natalie,” he said, pleased they’d still want him on board. “She has her hands full with a Keystone crisis. Probably glad I’m out of her hair. She’ll be in her office even if it is noon on Saturday in Philly.”

  “Once we’re organized—” Berk said as the airport entrance came into view.

  “How long is the flight?” Nicole asked.

  “Long. They’re sending us from Cairo to Lisbon to Fernando de Noron
ha to Montevideo.”

  “Is that the flight that Alex is on, right now?” Nicole asked.

  “How long is long?” Rob asked. The longest flight he’d ever been on was from Chicago to Cairo. And that seemed long.

  “About twenty-three hours with the stops.”

  “Archy’s taking Alex that far?” Rob couldn’t imagine a kid sitting still for twenty-three hours. Alex was a good kid but …

  “I can’t possibly wait that long to see Alex,” Nicole said, the futility obvious. “I thought I’d be with him right now.”

  The Land Cruiser came to a stop at a security checkpoint. Men went under the car checking for bombs. They opened the doors for the dogs to do their detecting. Whether this was normal, or because of the predicted unrest, Rob didn’t know.

  Everything must have checked out because they were escorted to a sleek private aircraft, a Falcon 2000. They boarded immediately. Rob sat next to Nicole, Berk across from her. Five of Berk’s men, including the three Hunks, took the seats in the back. Two male pilots welcomed them in perfect English, along with an attractive thirtysomething attendant, also male. Rob had been impressed with his first-class Delta seat, but this accommodation was a step up. Only nobody on board would be in a mood to enjoy. Rob wished that Natalie were here and had to admit he felt uneasy without her. Thinking about his wife’s twin in the seat next to him, he was struck by a major difference between the sisters. He’d always thought of Nicole as tough—and now she’d all but fallen apart. He appreciated Natalie for her true inner strength—and realized, as he did at times, what a wonderful mother she would have been; what a wonderful stepmother she was.

  Six o’clock in Cairo. Noon back home in Philly. He wasn’t sure, but he thought it’d be noon also in Uruguay. Twenty-four hours and the next phase in the hunt for Alex would begin. Rob excused himself, went to the back of the plane, asked one of Berk’s men how to use the phone. He reached Natalie at her office, told her what had happened and where they were headed.