Come Home

by Patricia Gussin

  “My son,” Nicole said, “Alex. He’s five years old.” Nicole reached over to hand him a photo. “Do you have any …”

  “Mr. Berk has been busy while you were airborne, briefing me on little Alex. We have a powerful information network in this country, Dr. Nelson. And I do have news—”

  Nicole was on her feet, leaning over the table. She did not want to miss a word. Why was he taking so long to tell her—

  “—He’s been identified as arriving in this country, accompanied by an operative working for the Masud family, under orders of Jafari Masud.”

  “Jafari’s dead—”

  “Yes, I am aware, Dr. Nelson.”

  “Nicole—”

  “Your son was taken to a family who resides in a pleasant Monrovia enclave.”

  “You know this—”

  “The military here does know everything. A small boy, presumed to be from the West—even though wearing a jellabiya—arrives with an Egyptian thug—well, that does not go unnoticed.”

  Nicole sat back down. “Is he still there?” she asked, the tremor in her voice nearly scrambling her words.

  “No, Dr. Nelson—Nicole—” The general was interrupted by another uniformed aide, whose discreet message for the general Nicole could not hear.

  “Okay,” the aide relayed to another aide. “Bring them in.”

  Yusef turned to Rob. “Your lovely wife, Natalie, has arrived.” And to Nicole, “And Ahmed Masud, your husband. They will join us momentarily.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  AHMED FELT A hand on his arm. “Ahmed, time to deplane,” Natalie said, nudging him fully awake.

  They sat next to each other for the long flight in coach class. Fortunately, they had the back row—only two seats; the downside—they’d be last off the plane. During the flight, they’d talked little, slept fitfully; both worried about Alex, and she about Rob; he about Nicole. How had Nicole reacted when she learned that he and Alex had left Philadelphia? What did she know about where he was?

  Had it only been two days ago that his innocent little boy had been brutally wrested from his seat on the airplane, slung over a thug’s shoulder, carried off the plane, crying for his daddy? Two days of abject helplessness, feeling like a shard of a man.

  Why hadn’t he acknowledged the vein of cruelty in his own family? That Jafari would take advantage of Father’s illness. That he would manipulate every element of the family. Convince Ahmed to come to Egypt with Alex. Send him off on a tangent to South America. Use his son as a pawn in his master plan.

  But he’d gone too far. Taking Alex away from him had crossed a line. Ahmed would take Alex home to Nicole, immediately. Nicole. Just the thought of her—her beauty, her intelligence, her zest for life, her love for their son—how could he have thrown away all that? They’d shared everything for nine years. Why had he let family pressures become reason to betray her? Was he that weak? How had he let the child be abducted—literally, out of his arms? What a pathetic excuse for a man.

  Please give me another chance, Nicole.

  The Air France flight would land at Roberts International Airport—not Sprigs Payne Airport where they had landed in the Bombardier Challenger and where Alex had been taken. He and Natalie planned to contact her family as soon as they were in the airport terminal. Find out if there was any news of Alex. Reassure them that Natalie was okay. Then Natalie would call her contact in Liberia, General Yusef Azer.

  Except that, as they stepped off the plane, Ahmed and Natalie were met by a quartet of armed military. “This way, Dr. Masud and Dr. Nelson. We have instructions to accompany you inside the terminal.” The soldier’s tone was not scary, but still …

  “Are we under arrest?” Ahmed asked. Could his family’s power on the African continent reach as far as Roberts International Airport, Monrovia?

  All the color had drained from Natalie’s face. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Follow,” ordered the sergeant-type. In an airport equipped with ultra-modern security, what choice did they have?

  Ahmed struggled to remain calm. Why were they met? Who even knew they were on that plane? They’d boarded in such a rush, had called no one. Was whatever trouble they were in severe enough to warrant surveillance of airline flights? Or—Ahmed did not even want to think this—had something happened to Alex? Something bad?

  “Ahmed.” Natalie leaned close. “Don’t worry. Yusef Azer is a really big man here.”

  “Down this corridor,” their military escort ordered. They had bypassed the immigration and customs officials, still processing the passengers from their flight, the queues long. A bystander would assume they were under arrest.

  When the sergeant opened the door to an ordinary-looking conference room, Ahmed heard Natalie gasp. “Rob,” she called, “you’re here!”

  Rob stood and Natalie all but collapsed in in his arms. “I was so worried,” he said wrapping her in his supportive hug.

  Ahmed slowly approached the woman sitting next to Rob. Nicole. But he hardly recognized his wife—whose beauty always had shown through, no matter the circumstances—whose attractiveness had inspired so many of their plastic surgery patients to want “to look just like her.” It looked as though she had aged ten years.

  His heart raced, his eyes began to tear. Love, apprehension, emotions Ahmed did not know he had and that he couldn’t define gripped his senses. Their eyes met and the well within Ahmed burst. He choked and wailed—“I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I am so sorry. Forgive me, Nicole. I love you. I love Alex. I am so sorry. I want our son. I want you.” Ahmed rushed to her side and sat next to her.

  Nicole shifted in her seat, turning to face him for the first time. Their faces were inches apart. “Why did you take him, Ahmed?” Her voice low and oddly hoarse. “And why did you leave him here—alone—while you went off to South America? You left him all alone!”

  “Has something happened to Alex?” he shouted. “Tell me. Tell me now.”

  The room went deadly quiet.

  That’s when Ahmed first noticed the two other men in the room, both very big, the smaller of the two in full military regalia, chest covered with medals. Could this be the general whom Rob and Natalie knew, the one they were planning to call? Had Rob already reached out to him? Still, where was Alex?

  “Natalie, good to see you again!” The military man approached Natalie and threw his arms around her. “What the hell were you thinking—if I may ask? Running off, telling no one.”

  “But how could I just stay home, useless,” she said, taking Rob’s hand, “when my husband and sister were—”

  “Let me make the introductions,” said Rob. “Berk, Yusef, this is my brother-in-law, Ahmed Masud.” Rob finished the round of introductions, leaving Ahmed to convince himself that his brother-in-law, the builder from Philadelphia, knew the most powerful general in Liberia. And who was the intimidating presence called “Berk”?

  But did anyone in this room know what had happened to Alex?

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  TO AVOID SUSPICION, Seth would have to convincingly play the faithful son role. His eldest brother was dead. Had died tragically. The Cairo police investigation continued, according to the media. Had the car bomb explosion been related to business rivals of the Masuds? Escalating political unrest—as the hordes poured into Cairo, heading for Tahrir Square? Or some other terrorism dynamic? So far, no publicized police theories had associated Seth’s unanticipated, unannounced return to Egypt with his brother’s fate, and Seth doubted the cops would go that route. Expedient to blame it on the protesters—the revolutionaries were out to end Mubarak rule and Jafari Masud was a crony of Gamal Mubarak. No, Seth told himself, to suspect him of fratricide would be laughable.

  With Father’s cancer and Mother consumed with grief for Jafari, Seth could naturally assume that faithful son role, caring and devoted. At least until Ahmed arrived on the scene. Would Ahmed try to outdo him? Or would Ahmed be content just to pay his respects and return to Ame
rica, the very image of a big-time important doctor with a beautiful American wife and promising child? Seth had to believe the latter. Ahmed had made it clear that his heart was not in helping the family deal with the burdensome challenges ahead.

  But where the fuck was Ahmed? There had been no word either from him or from Mohamed since they left for Uruguay. Had they even heard that fucking Jafari was dead? Could his brother simply disappear, decide to take his son back to America, screw the new family venture in South America?

  But Mohamed was another story. Mohamed was not just Jafari’s man, he was one hundred percent dedicated to Jafari. And yet, Jafari’s man had fallen silent. Seth knew only that Mohamed and Ahmed had met with the real estate agent, had toured the house Jafari had wanted to buy, then Ahmed had taken off—alone. Neither had been heard from since.

  Undoubtedly, the time would come when they’d surface, and Seth had to think proactively.

  Ahmed, Seth could handle, subdue with physical force, if necessary. But Mohamed, if he suspected Seth’s and Tebu’s role in Jafari’s death, would come at him like a lethal weapon. Both would have to be neutralized.

  Mohamed had established himself as the brains of the Masud family security unit. Seth now knew that he’d shared nothing about backup systems with his minions, not even with Tebu, second after Mohamed in the security staff pecking order.

  Seth had instructed Tebu to access Mohamed’s international contact list. With their extensive network of operatives, someone should be able to access passenger lists out of Montevideo—but nothing. The charter jet pilots who had flown Ahmed and Mohamed into Montevideo still were there on the ground, having had no further contact with their passengers. But Tebu had learned they’d dropped off Ahmed’s kid at their Monrovia, Liberia, fueling stop.

  Why would they have done that?

  Well, he had no time to speculate. Seth had to attend to his parents. He had to show respect. Not that he didn’t respect his parents. He did. Both of them. They tried. They’d worked hard. They raised five children. They prided themselves on their children’s success. Including his, Seth’s, success. They’d underestimated their youngest offspring, however—underappreciated him. They had no idea who was about to take over the Masud family. But first, Seth had to get through the funeral. And that was proving difficult, with Cairo roads becoming more congested by the minute with protesters.

  “Mother, Father,” he said, entering his parents’ sanctum. They were alone except for the nurse seated in a straight chair in the corner. Seth noticed that his father’s color had improved. He was sitting up in bed, sipping tea.

  “Has Ahmed arrived, my son?” his mother asked. “Father has been asking.”

  “No, my parents. Jafari sent him to South America. But I’m sure he’ll be back by tomorrow. In time.”

  “He must attend his brother’s funeral,” Father said in a strong voice. “He is my eldest son now.”

  “He lives in America. He has an American wife—”

  “Nicole was here, Seth,” Mother said. “Looking for Wati.”

  “Yes. I heard she came with some thugs. Rough men. Looking for trouble.”

  “I would do the same,” Mother said, “if I did not know where my son was. The child is young. He needs his mother. Aurera tried with him here, but Wati missed his mother, I could tell.”

  “Yes, Mother, you would,” said his father. “When your sons were young, you were a tigress.”

  “And with my daughters,” Mother said. “Speaking of, have you seen your sister Neema, Seth? She didn’t come to see Father today and that’s not like her. She always spends at least an hour reading to him.”

  “No, Mother, I have not. She must be busy with the … arrangements. All the women are trying to console the children. Bastet is with them, and I’m sure Neema is, too.” But Seth was not sure.

  “Son, will you make sure to welcome our visitors from the Nelson family?” Father changed the subject. “I have insisted that they stay here in the compound with us.”

  “What?” Ahmed’s wife’s family? Staying here?

  “Yes,” Father said, “Nicole’s parents will arrive tonight. Of course, I expect that Ahmed will be here, too, and little Wati. It is my wish.”

  “I’m worried,” Mother said. “They should be here by now. Seth, can you try harder to get in touch with them? Ask Mohamed to use his contacts. Please, Seth, find my son.”

  “Yes, Mother, I will find him.” And I will kill him.

  So his parents didn’t know that Mohamed was missing, too? No use in telling them. For now, he’d offer meaningless reassurance—and get back to his agenda.

  “I have many tasks to take care of for you, my parents. You need your rest.”

  Seth kissed them both on each cheek. As he left the room, he pulled the nurse aside and instructed her to give both his parents a sedative.

  Closing the door behind him, he headed to Jafari’s office to meet Tebu. Funeral plans had to be finalized; other plans had to be modified.

  What the fuck was that about Nicole’s parents showing up?

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  MONDAY, JANUARY 24, 2011

  MONROVIA, LIBERIA

  WAS SHE HALLUCINATING, she wondered. Natalie sat at the rectangular table with her husband, her sister, her brother-in-law, Ahmed, and most importantly, a general of the Liberian Army. She glanced around the table again, trying to focus on what her husband was saying. He was making a case for bringing into the room someone he called Mohamed. And how did Rob know this person? In the Middle East, so many men were called Mohamed. Named after the prophet, the founder of the Muslim religion. A religion she knew little about. Islam had not seemed important even to Ahmed and Nicole, at least until recently, when Ahmed insisted Alex must go to the Islamic school. That had been a point of contention. That, Natalie recalled, had triggered the horrible incident when Ahmed hit Nicole. Was it all about … religion?

  Rob seemed quite passionate about involving Mohamed in this session, adamant that it may be important to Ahmed and Alex. Natalie tried to be fully attentive, but a different reality intruded. Would she still have a job? The vice president of a major pharmaceutical company does not abandon her responsibilities at the time of a major corporate crisis. She hoped her team was implementing her instructions and they would prove successful. The FDA, she hoped, would issue the appropriate warnings about constipation and how to treat it, allowing Zomera back on the market soon. Lives of cancer patients hung in the balance.

  Once this Monrovia airport meeting of the minds had ended, Natalie promised herself to check in with Barney Black, difficult as that would be. And to make all the calls she’d neglected—to family. Apologize to her brothers for leaving without consulting them. Check in with her mother in New Zealand, see if she had any more input to the Zomera FDA plan. And, she had to call Leslie. Neither she nor Rob had told his daughter where they were going, nor why; Leslie would be concerned. Couldn’t blame her; her dad never left the US, but here he was on the continent of Africa, in Liberia.

  Natalie’s thoughts were interrupted when a large, bearded man, hands cuffed behind him, entered the room, none too gently accompanied by two Liberians in military uniform. Yusef gestured to the thick U-hook protruding from the cement floor near the far end of the table.

  Natalie watched as the Liberian officers applied leg irons to the big man and secured him to the hook. This room must have seen its share of interrogations.

  Then Yusef Azer summarized what little they knew. On Jafari’s orders, Ahmed had been sent to South America. He was authorized to bring along his son. But when their plane landed here in Monrovia, in a smaller airport than this one, a man named Dennu wrested the boy from Ahmed. Dennu, a subordinate of Mohamed in the Masud family security unit, acted on Mohamed’s orders.

  After that, Yusef told them, Jafari’s—and Ahmed’s—sister Neema had picked up Alex and taken him away. Back to Cairo, they had confirmed.

  Natalie sensed Ahmed’s relief when he
learned who had taken Alex—Neema, his younger sister. Natalie knew that Neema was Nicole’s favorite of all the Masuds. Did that mean that if Neema had Alex, he’d be okay?

  That meant Nicole and Ahmed would be reunited with their precious little boy in Cairo and this nightmare would end. Natalie could go back to her pharma crisis and tend to her own stepdaughter’s wedding.

  When Natalie tuned in again on the Monrovia airport meeting, her husband, in his laid-back but rational way, was making the case for a warning that Mohamed had issued. Ahmed was in danger, said Mohamed—maybe Alex, too. Rob had prevailed on everyone at the meeting to allow Mohamed to join them.

  “Seth Masud is involved, I am certain, in bomb killing Jafari,” Mohamed was saying. “Tebu, from my team, make explosion device.”

  “What does that have to do with Alex?” Ahmed, impetuous, was as much in Mohamed’s face as he could be, given their respective positions at the conference table. “Why did you let them take my son?”

  Yusef reached over, put a hand on Ahmed’s arm. “Let’s hear what else he knows.”

  “I not leave your son here,” Mohamed said. “Jafari want to control you. So you get job done in South America. He believe you might return to America, to your wife.”

  “Are you crazy?” Ahmed’s voice rose another decibel. “Using a five-year-old child as insurance?”

  “He was not to be harmed,” Mohamed contended. “The kid was supposed to be safe.”

  Natalie noted a touch of color return to Nicole’s cheeks. Thank God—Alex is okay. She saw Nicole take Ahmed’s hand as he sat back down. Maybe Nicole and Ahmed would find a way to reconcile? After they found Alex and brought him home?

  Then Rob spoke. “Mohamed, tell them your suspicions. About Seth …”

  “Seth, my kid brother?” Ahmed sounded incredulous. “He’s never been that important—”

  “Ahmed Masud,” Mohamed said, “you are now elder brother. Your father very ill—You must listen to me. I have served your family for long time, loyalty—”