What Changes Everything

by Masha Hamilton

  That stilted sentence seemed to prompt Sandy into action; she opened her purse and pulled out a notebook. "When is the last time you had contact with your husband?" she asked.

  "Contact? I—" Clarissa cleared her throat. "I already answered a lot of questions on the phone."

  "I"m sorry. We need this in person."

  Clarissa inhaled. "We spoke on the phone last night. It was about 10 p.m. my time. It was morning of the next day in Kabul. I guess it must have been a few hours before…" She broke off, unable to put it into words.

  "What did you talk about?"

  It was not about, it was around. We talked around an argument about safety, and our future.

  "Just small talk," Clarissa said.

  "Can you remember anything specific? Anything at all might be helpful. For example, did he mention anything unusual, or any planned outings or meetings?"

  God, what had he said that she"d be willing to share with these strangers sitting in her home wanting to sift through her underwear drawer? She struggled to remember precisely. "An Afghan woman was coming to see him in the office. He wasn"t sure what she wanted. He also was to meet some woman from Texas who wanted to visit a refugee camp. And he mentioned his assistant, Amin. He"s very close to Amin. That"s it."

  "Do you need Amin"s contact info?" Bill Snyder asked, and then Clarissa"s attention wandered as he provided it and Agent Sandy wrote.

  "What about you?" Jack asked Ruby after several minutes

  "I haven"t spoken to him in maybe two weeks." Ruby"s voice sounded shaky. "At least

  not directly."

  "Directly?" Jack made an openhanded gesture that indicated puzzlement.

  "We"re playing an online chess game," Ruby explained. "He makes a move in the evening his time and I make a move in the evening my time. He made the last move, about four days ago. I …" Ruby began to choke up, restrained herself with effort. "It was my turn next."

  "Did he mention anything in particular to you? Anyone he was meeting, or anything going on in his life?"

  "We really only talked about chess," Ruby said. "We talk about light things when he is overseas. When he"s home, that"s when he tells me more serious stories."

  "Did he ever bring up being threatened in any way?" Jack asked, his tone casual.

  "Not really."

  "He knew—knows that part of the world is not the safest," Clarissa said. "But he always said he felt well protected. And he was getting ready to quit. Is going to quit. He"s going to work from New York after this rotation." She glanced toward Bill Snyder, expecting him to nod in acquiescence, but his face remained expressionless, noncommittal, and she fleetingly wondered if he"d tried to talk Todd out of leaving the fieldwork. "You know, Todd worked on behalf of Afghans," Clarissa said. "Do his kidnappers get that?"

  "Simply being a foreigner—"

  "I know. I know, of course," Clarissa interrupted Jack.

  "This is a business," Jack continued. "He"s an American and he was accessible. A target of opportunity. It"s that simple."

  "What was he doing?" Clarissa turned to Bill Snyder. "I mean, when they…"

  Bill Snyder shrugged. "Getting ice cream, Amin says."

  "Christ," Clarissa said.

  The kitchen fell silent for a moment. "And you?" Sandy asked Mikey.

  Mikey shrugged. "Clari"s my only sibling. My only family, really. We"re close," he said. "But I wouldn"t know about Todd"s life day to day, beyond what Clari might mention."

  Sandy turned to Angie. "Tell me about your connection to the family."

  "Well, Ruby and I, we live together."

  "How long have you known each other?"

  "I lived with Todd and Ruby for a while when I was a teenager," Angie said

  "How long?"

  "About a year."

  "What were the circumstances?"

  Angie shrugged. "Things were not going so great at home. Todd agreed to take me in. He fed me, watched over me, became a surrogate dad. Probably more than he bargained for."

  "We understand you work as a psychic," Jack said.

  Angie looked as surprised as Clarissa felt. How had they found out so much so quickly? Though she didn"t ask the question, Jack seemed to anticipate it. He shrugged in a silent answer.

  "I"m an RN," Angie said after a minute. "I work with a hospice. But yes, I do psychic fairs on the side, that kind of thing. That"s all."

  "So you get premonitions?"

  "Sometimes," Angie said hesitantly.

  "Can you describe one for us?"

  "I hope this is not the primary basis of your investigation," Clarissa said, her voice cool.

  "Yeah," Angie said. "I actually don"t think this will be helpful."

  "They"re just trying to think of everything," Ruby said in a soothing way that almost made Clarissa smile. She"d seen this side of Ruby with her father, too: a torrent of emotion almost as if she were a still rebellious teenager and then, at lightning speed, everything under control.

  "Okay, well," Angie began, her voice sounding doubtful. "Last week there was this guy on the subway platform. It was about ten minutes after five, and I was headed home from work; he was wearing earphones and dark jeans and swaying to the music on his iPod and he looked like, you know, a regular commuter, a little trance-like, into his own isolated world, but whatever. And suddenly he stared right at me in a piercing way that made me think… well, that he was dead. I know it sounds strange, but that"s how it felt. And that he wanted me to do something, tell someone…"

  "Go ahead," Jack encouraged.

  "I looked around, and the platform was crowded and I had no idea who to approach, or what to say if I did, and then my train came, and I looked behind me, and I couldn"t see him anymore, you know, like he was lost in the flush of travelers, so I got on the car, and I figured, oh well, that"s it, I must be imagining things."

  Sandy had stopped taking notes, and Clarissa agreed with that decision. Please, she wanted to shout. Let"s get serious here.

  "Yes?" Jack said encouragingly.

  "Two mornings later, I took one of those free newspapers they hand out at the subway entrance, I think it was AM New York, and I was flipping through it, and there it was. A photo of a man who"d stepped onto the tracks at my station shortly after 5 p.m. My man."

  "Wow," Sandy said, though she didn"t sound particularly impressed.

  "She"s pretty amazing," Ruby said.

  "Have you had any feelings about Ruby"s dad?" Jack asked.

  "No, no." Angie looked embarrassed. "God, no."

  "Now can I ask you a few questions?" Clarissa asked. "Because while all this may serve some purpose that is not occurring to me now, it seems clear what we really need to focus on is what"s happening on the ground in Kabul. Who are you talking to? Where do you think my husband is being held, and by whom?"

  Jack nodded. "I know it"s frustrating at this stage. And though there"s a lot we don"t know yet, we also aren"t fully in the dark. There was, as you know, an explosion on the street where he was standing. Two people were killed, but we believe the attack was mainly diversionary, and the primary goal was to kidnap your husband. Kidnapping is a big business in Afghanistan. As I"m sure you know."

  "So they"d been watching him?" Ruby asked.

  Jack shrugged. "What we know is that he was pushed into a white Corolla station wagon and driven away. The Taliban has publicly claimed responsibility; a so-called spokesman contacted Al Jazeera and the AP. So he may be in Taliban hands. Then again, he may not be."

  "They would claim responsibility for something they didn"t do?" Ruby asked.

  "Lots of smoke and mirrors over there," Jack said. "We"ll know more soon. Anyway, the first 24 to 48 hours is the most dangerous."

  Clarissa felt light-headed. She tried to think of herself as a rock, solid, connected to the ground.

  "You want some water, Clari?" Mikey asked.

  "I"m okay. I"m just—I wasn"t prepared for this."

  "No one"s prepared," Jack said. "We"ve got people all o
ver the world, including some based in hairy places, and everyone ignores what that means until they can"t anymore." Clarissa looked at him, trying to read into his words, but his expression was bland. "I don"t want to sugarcoat anything," he said. "You won"t end up appreciating that from me. But at least they"ve already made the initial contact. That"s good."

  "Good?" someone asked, maybe Bill Snyder, in a voice threaded with sarcasm.

  "It"s the beginning of an address. They haven"t given any demands yet. We think we know where he"s being held—I mean, the general area."

  "Where?" Ruby asked.

  "Southern Afghanistan."

  "That is general," Mikey said.

  "So you don"t think he"s been moved into Pakistan?" Bill Snyder asked.

  "Not at this time," Jack said. "There have been enough of these cases that there"s pretty much a pattern. Though, as I"ve indicated, we aren"t completely sure which group has him, and that impacts whether he"ll be transferred to another group, and his eventual location, and where they are going to want to hold him for the long-term."

  "What long-term?" Clarissa worked to keep her voice from going shrill.

  "Crazy fundamentalists, any way you look at it," Mikey muttered.

  "But it matters which ones," Jack said.

  Clarissa cleared her throat so she could speak. "What long-term?" she repeated.

  "We have good connections on the ground. We"ve learned a lot in the last several years," Jack said. "One thing we need to get squared away. If there is a chance to rescue him, do you want us to go ahead?"

  "What do you mean? Of course I want him rescued."

  "What he"s talking about, Clarissa," said Bill Snyder, "is a military rescue. And he needs your permission because sometimes things go wrong. Sometimes hostages die in rescue attempts."

  Again, Clarissa felt dizzy.

  "Well, hopefully not," Jack said. "And that"s not really what I"m saying, for the record."

  "There are those," Bill Snyder continued, "who theorize it is better—safer—to stick with negotiations, rather than get impatient and launch a rescue attempt."

  Clarissa exchanged a glance with her brother—how do I process this? "What do you advise?" Mikey asked the agents.

  "I"ve spoken to Amin once already this morning," Bill Snyder said quickly. "You"ve heard Todd talk about him, Clarissa, probably hundreds of times. He has experience and connections, and I have complete trust in him. Besides, he feels extremely responsible toward Todd. He"s pursuing leads from his end. I"d like to give him at least a few hours."

  "By all means," Jack said. "In fact, it"s wise to have locals appear to be leading any negotiations. It keeps the price tag a bit lower. But with American civilians, the U.S. government likes to have the rescue permission lined up, at the ready if it"s needed. A two-pronged approach."

  "And the decision is Clarissa"s?" Ruby asked.

  "It"s a family decision, of course, but we need the okay from her, yes," Jack said, his voice careful.

  Clarissa felt Bill Snyder watching her, holding himself back from saying something more. She felt Ruby"s gaze as well. "It"s so early, so much is vague. Can"t you ask me this when

  you know more?" she asked. "Then we can discuss it?"

  Jack tilted his head to one side thoughtfully. "The men on the ground will certainly tell us the particulars, if there is time. But often, things break quickly. That"s why they want your permission on file, as it were."

  Clarissa looked at Ruby, then at her hands. She turned toward Jack, examining his face, as if she might find something there. His expression was bland, noncommittal. They were all waiting. "I want Todd home," she said. "But I want him home safe."

  "We want that, too," Sandy said. "A rescue is only attempted if they feel confident of success on the ground."

  "But sometimes in the past, that confidence has been misplaced, hasn"t it?" Bill Snyder asked. "Then the hostage can be killed by friendly fire."

  …humans are delicate so keep it safe humans are impermanent so take the risks…

  Jack spread open his hands. "It"s a war. But our guys succeed more often than they fail."

  Bill Snyder shook his head, but said nothing. Clarissa took a deep breath. She needed some time. "No military rescue attempt for now." She touched her fingers to her lips as soon as she spoke, almost wishing she could pull back the words, and then lowered her hand to her lap. "Not until we think this through," she said, making her voice more decisive. "Or until we get a little more information about the best way to get Todd home."

  Jack looked displeased but managed to shrug. "You"re still digesting the information. I understand that. We"ll revisit it later. One more thing. In general in these cases, the lower profile, the better." He looked at Ruby, and then glanced at Angie. "It"s important to keep it out of the media, and we need your help, too. Don"t blog about it or Facebook it, of course. Try not to tell anyone. We"re keeping it as quiet as we can so if a journalist calls, decline comment and refer them to us. The less frenzy, the more time we have to negotiate, and to try to pinpoint his whereabouts exactly."

  "What else can we do?" Ruby said.

  "It may be hard, but try to keep your life as normal as possible. It will be better for you than spending the whole day worrying about what"s happening."

  "What else?" Ruby repeated.

  "As soon as they reach out again, we"ll try to push forward the negotiations," Jack said.

  "Shouldn"t Clarissa be a key part of negotiations?" Bill Snyder asked.

  "She"ll be intimately involved, of course. But we do have experienced people both in the states and on the ground."

  "I appreciate that experience. On the other hand, Todd"s family and colleagues will have his interests at heart in the most uncomplicated way," Bill Snyder said. "You guys," he jabbed his chin toward Jack, "have many issues to consider that don"t have to do with Todd."

  Jack and Bill both turned to Clarissa. Their disagreements clearly carried a subtext Clarissa couldn"t follow. She was being asked on the spot to make decisions that could have a direct impact on the outcome of this kidnapping—specifically, on whether or not Todd lived. At the same time, she was being given no tools to help her decide, not even two contacts who agreed on how to proceed. It would be unnerving to speak directly to Todd"s kidnappers, she imagined, and equally unnerving to have others speaking to them with her left out of the process. Beyond that, the broader implications escaped her. Still, both men waited.

  "I need to at least confer with whoever would be negotiating on our behalf," she said. "Beyond that, I need a little more time to think about it." She sipped the water that Angie had brought for Ruby. "Can you be specific about what you will be doing next?" Clarissa looked at

  Sandy, who struck her as more the planning type than Jack.

  "The government is aware of what has happened, at the highest levels," Sandy said, emphasizing the word "highest."

  "Executive, Defense, State, all three," Jack added. "Right now, we pursue two paths. We try to use intelligence on the ground to locate them."

  "And we wait for them to make the next contact," Sandy said.

  Contact. That word again. It sounded so sterile, more distant than a handshake. What Clarissa wanted was for someone to fly now to Afghanistan, do whatever was needed to find her husband, put a supportive arm around his shoulder and bring him home. She didn"t want to think about opening a process of negotiations, or whether Todd would be safe in a rescue attempt.

  They kept talking—about where they would route any call from the kidnappers, and who would have to be informed—but Clarissa lost her train of thought. Then Jack was reaching toward her, and she backed away before she realized he was handing her something.

  "Sorry. I guess I"m jumpy."

  He hesitated a moment, then extended his hand again. "No problem. Here"s my card," he said. "Call if you need us. And we"ll check in with you tomorrow, let you know where we are. Though there may not be any change that quickly."

  Clarissa didn"t re
spond to this forecast. She rose to show Jack and Sandy to the door. Before leaving, Sandy surprised her by giving her a quick hug.

  Back in the kitchen, Ruby was already at the stove, preparing a frittata for everyone to share. Ruby, who Todd said had insisted on only fish-sticks and apple slices for breakfast, lunch and dinner for five months when she was eight years old, had become a gifted chef at a Brooklyn restaurant. She prepared dishes Clarissa couldn"t pronounce, patient with slow boils and constant stirrings and recipes so complex that Clarissa would have put them through the paper shredder if they"d ever found their way into her kitchen. Ruby went for sauces. Coquille St. Jacques. Foie de veau. Canard roti à la framboise. Ruby lived with Angie in an apartment crowded with two dogs, garden tools, even a canoe in the living room, and Todd had described her as perpetually disorganized, the kind of person who missed meetings and went out in mismatched shoes. But to her work as a chef, she brought awe-inducing precision.