Five Years in Yemen

by Luana Ehrlich

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Actually, it was good. She said the President asked her to convey his appreciation for the way Operation Rebel Merchant was handled.”

  “I’m surprised she called you instead of the DDO.”

  He ignored my remark. “She said the President considers it a good sign the Saudi ambassador hasn’t called him to protest Jacob Levin’s sudden departure from Yemen. He also expressed his condolences about Jeremy, and she said he wanted each member of the operational team to know he was inspired by their service and dedication.”

  “Really? Our service and dedication inspired the President?”

  “I’m just repeating what Ms. Pack said to tell each member of the operational team.”

  “The President may not appreciate us so much when Congressman Levin announces his candidacy, and Jacob is right there at his side campaigning for him.”

  “You really think the Congressman has a chance against the President?”

  “When the media hears Jacob Levin was kidnapped by an ISIS-affiliated terrorist group, he’ll be featured on the news 24/7. That’s bound to help Congressman Levin’s chances, and as long as Jacob sticks to the FBI’s fabricated story, he’ll be seen as a sympathetic figure. Think how many extra votes that will get the Congressman.”

  Carlton walked over to a chess board in a corner of his study and studied the pieces. “It’s a shame the public will never know what it took to get Jacob back here. I wonder if Jacob himself really gets it.”

  Suddenly, I had a flashback to the look on Jacob’s face when the helicopter carrying Jeremy’s body lifted off from Gharib.

  “I don’t know, Douglas, maybe he does. I think he tried to tell me he was sorry after Jeremy was killed, but, to be truthful, I was in no mood to hear it. All I could think about was Jeremy’s daughter.”

  Carlton looked up from the chess board. “Do you still plan to go see her?”

  “Yes. Dirk gave me the name of the social worker who’s handling Jeremy’s case, and I left my number on her voice mail this morning. I’m expecting a call from her sometime today.”

  “I’m not necessarily opposed to you making contact with Jeremy’s daughter, and I can understand why you feel the need to do so, but would you mind telling me how you’re going to explain why you’re interested in Eleanor Taylor without mentioning you were involved in the operation that led to Jeremy’s death?”

  “That’s not a problem. I plan to tell the social worker I’m a Senior Fellow at CIS, and that I’ve been friends with Jeremy since college.”

  “I doubt if she’d question that, but you’ll still have to explain how you know about his death. You know it’s not public knowledge yet.”

  “I’m going to tell her I was at the Pentagon yesterday interviewing Dirk Andersen for a book I’m researching, and when I mentioned I was planning to stop by Jeremy’s office to say hi to him, Dirk told me he’d been killed in Yemen. I’ll say Dirk gave me her phone number because he knew Jeremy and I were good friends, and he knew I’d be concerned about Eleanor’s welfare.”

  Carlton nodded. “Okay, that sounds plausible, but if you run into a problem, let me know.” He headed for the door, but then he stopped and looked back at me. “You know, Titus, if I were you, I’d take Nikki along with me when you go see Eleanor.”

  “She’s already volunteered.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  * * * *

  Not long after Carlton left, I received a call from Tanya Brooks, the social worker in the Casualty Assistance office who was handling Jeremy’s case.

  Nikki and I were in the hallway outside of Carlton’s study, and I motioned for her to follow me when I walked into his study to take the call.

  After closing the door, I put Ms. Brooks on speakerphone so Nikki could listen in, and when she heard me giving Ms. Brooks my story about how I knew Eleanor, she looked amused.

  A few seconds later, when she heard Ms. Brooks’ response, her smiled disappeared.

  “Eleanor is being cared for by Max Taylor’s neighbor, Anna Weatherly,” she said, “but we’re planning to place Eleanor in a foster home after the funeral.”

  “Do you really think that’s best for the child?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it be better for her to be left where she is until her grandmother arrives?”

  “Ordinarily, that might be true, but Mrs. Weatherly is an elderly woman in her eighties with health issues of her own, and when my colleague and I visited with her yesterday, she told us she didn’t know how much longer she could look after Eleanor.”

  “What about Eleanor’s grandmother? Do you have any idea when she’ll be getting here?”

  “No, we haven’t been able to get in touch with her yet. I assume you know she’s out of the country?”

  “Yes, I’m aware Ms. Redding’s living in Israel now, but I’m surprised you haven’t been able to contact her yet. She needs to be informed of Eleanor’s situation immediately.”

  “I’m not sure what’s causing the delay, but I assure you, Mr. Ray, we’re working on it as hard as we can. These things take time. However, I do appreciate your concern for Eleanor.”

  “I’d like to see her. Is that possible?”

  “Once she’s settled in her new foster home, I don’t see why that would be a problem.”

  “Actually, that would be a problem. I’d like to see her today.”

  I suddenly realized I sounded a little harsh, and when Nikki frowned and pointed at herself, mouthing the words, “me too,” I got the message and tried to soften my tone.

  “My fiancée and I are free today, so this afternoon would be the best time for us to drive over to Falls Church and check on her.”

  “Oh, so you’ll be bringing your fiancée with you?”

  “That’s right. Her name is Nikki Saxon, and, as a matter of fact, Nikki spoke with Eleanor on the phone less than a week ago.”

  Nikki rolled her eyes at me, but then she smiled when she heard Ms. Brooks say, “Eleanor’s been through a lot, so I know she’ll be happy to see some familiar faces. I’ll call Mrs. Weatherly and tell her you’ll be there sometime this afternoon. She’s lives at 119 East Jefferson Street, next door to Max Taylor’s house.”

  I chose not to correct Ms. Brooks’ misunderstanding that Nikki and I actually knew Eleanor.

  Before she hung up, I asked, “Can you tell me how Eleanor’s doing?”

  “It’s hard to say. Evidently, before he left, her father told her that her grandfather had cancer, so according to Mrs. Weatherly, when she had to tell Eleanor he passed away, she seemed to accept his death without any problem. But, when I had to tell Eleanor yesterday that her father had been killed, she was pretty inconsolable. Naturally, that was heartbreaking for all of us, but when she stopped crying, she said, “Everything’s going to be okay. My daddy promised me everything’s going to be okay.”

  After I told Ms. Brooks goodbye, I glanced over at Nikki.

  She was crying.

  * * * *

  I put my phone down and reached out to her. When I took her in my arms, holding her slender body close to mine, she buried her face in my chest.

  I felt helpless as I listened to her muffled sobs.

  When I began stroking her long hair, running my fingers slowly through its silkiness, I felt her relax. A few minutes later, she looked up at me and smiled.

  I leaned down and gave her a long, lingering kiss.

  As we drew apart, she said, “I’m not sure what came over me. I’ve had situations before when I’ve had to tell a child a parent wasn’t coming home.”

  “Perhaps Eleanor’s situation is bringing back memories of your own childhood.”

  “You could be right. I was much younger than Eleanor when I was placed in foster care, but since she knows what it’s like to have a normal family life, it may be even harder on her than it was on me.”

  “Let’s pray they find her grandmother before that happens.”

  Nikki walked over
to Carlton’s credenza where he had a box of tissues and grabbed one. “I’m sure Jeremy and his wife never imagined this set of circumstances when they had children.”

  “No, I suppose not,” I said, watching her blot her tears away. “Now that you mentioned it, Nikki, the other day, I . . . uh . . .”

  I hesitated, wondering if the timing was right for us to have this discussion but, for some reason, I plunged ahead anyway.

  “Uh . . . the other day, I suddenly realized the two of us had never talked about having children.”

  For a moment, she looked stunned, her hand frozen in midair, but then, she tossed the tissue in the wastebasket underneath Carlton’s desk and leaned back against his credenza.

  “No,” she said, “I don’t believe either one of us has ever mentioned it before.”

  There were a few seconds of awkward silence as I waited for her to add something to her statement, but when she continued to stare at me without saying anything, I finally asked her, “Have you given any thought to us having children?”

  “Of course, I have.”

  “And?”

  “And I think it’s a decision we need to make together.”

  “I agree.”

  “It’s a big decision.”

  “There’s no doubt about that,” I said. “It may be one of the biggest decisions we’ll ever have to make as a married couple.”

  “We both live very busy lives.”

  “And I’m gone all the time.”

  “When you’re not working, though, you have lots of free time.”

  “That’s true, although I’m not sure what kind of father I would be. I didn’t exactly have a good role model.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she said. “I had no role model whatsoever.”

  “You’d be a wonderful mother, Nikki.”

  “You really think so?” she asked, biting down on her lower lip.

  “I’m sure of it. I’m looking forward to you being the mother of our children.”

  She smiled and walked over to where I was standing.

  After placing her arms around my neck, she said, “It sounds like we’ve made a decision.”

  “And we made it together.”

  * * * *

  Shortly after lunch, Nikki and I left The Meadows for the thirty-minute drive over to Falls Church, located off I-66 just north of the Beltway.

  Since I was familiar with the area, Nikki insisted I drive her rental car, but I still had her enter Mrs. Weatherly’s address in the car’s GPS to help us navigate once we arrived in Falls Church.

  It was a cold blustery day, and Nikki was wearing a dark red parka, which I commented on as soon as I pulled out of the driveway and turned north on Fairfax County Parkway.

  “That coat looks nice on you, but I can’t imagine you’d ever wear it when you’re doing surveillance. You’d be spotted a mile away.”

  “No, I bought it so I could be warm when I’m sitting in the stands at the stadium. It gets chilly in Oklahoma in the fall.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard that—something about the winds sweeping down the plain.”

  She laughed. “You heard right.”

  “That reminds me. I’ve been meaning to ask you what happened with your Stadium Killer case. You haven’t told me how it turned out.”

  Nikki became animated as she described how she and her partner had discovered the identity of the man who’d murdered the two women who’d both attended an OU football game, and who’d been seen on national television when the camera had panned the crowd.

  “The killer turned out to be a guy who worked at a concession stand at the OU stadium. The profiler’s description of the killer’s motive was right on target. He was obsessed with how a fan should act at a game, and when he saw those women engaging in what he considered disrespectful behavior, he went a little crazy.”

  “I’d say he went more than a little crazy.”

  “A little crazy is how one of his co-workers described him when she phoned our hotline wanting us to check him out.”

  “So it was a hotline tip that led you to him?”

  She nodded. “My partner and I were pretty skeptical her tip would turn out to be anything other than a disgruntled employee wanting to harass another employee, but when we finally got around to following up on her phone call, we realized he fit the killer’s profile.”

  “That wouldn’t have been enough to make an arrest, though.”

  “No, but it was enough for us to put him under surveillance. Then, last Friday night, when we followed him from his apartment over to a neighborhood crack house, we caught him buying drugs, and after we arrested him, we discovered he was carrying a weapon. When we ran the ballistics, it turned out to be the same handgun used in the murder of the two women.”

  “Nice work, Detective.”

  “The guy was pretty messed up. I’m glad he’s off the streets.”

  As I’d been listening to her tell me about the case, I’d also been thinking about the discussion Carlton and I’d had about the station chief position in Iraq, especially the part about Nikki having a job at the embassy.

  Naturally, that would only happen if I were to become the station chief—and that wasn’t ever going to happen—but I decided to put out a feeler anyway.

  I asked her, “Are you still happy about your decision not to join the FBI?”

  My question seemed to catch her by surprise. “Of course, I am. Why would you ask me that?”

  I shrugged. “I was just wondering. I know you said you enjoyed your time at Quantico, but I know it must have been a big change for you since you’ve lived in Oklahoma all your life.”

  “It was very challenging, but every time I’ve had to do something out of my comfort zone, I’ve never regretted it. I’m sure you’ve felt the same way.”

  “No, I can’t say I have. I’ve stayed in my comfort zone my whole career.”

  She laughed. “How can you say that? Your job has taken you lots of different places, and I know you’ve had to deal with all kinds of different situations.”

  “Yeah, but that’s my job. It’s what I was trained to do. If I were asked to do something else, I’d be like a fish out of water.”

  “You’re right. I can’t see you sitting behind a desk all day or managing a retail establishment, but if it were something in the intelligence field, you’d be great at it, even if it were out of your comfort zone.”

  I reached over and squeezed her hand. “I have my doubts about that, but thanks for your confidence in me.”

  “Why do I have the feeling this was not just a random discussion?”

  “I can’t imagine why you’d feel that way, Detective.”

  She stared at me. “Are you thinking about leaving the Agency?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “But something’s happened, right?”

  I should have realized Nikki was too good of a detective not to suspect I had a reason for questioning her. It was either that or she was able to pick up on my vibes, which was a little disconcerting.

  I decided to come clean with her—at least in one respect.

  “No, nothing’s happened yet,” I said, “but Douglas told me I was going to be offered a different position at the Agency in a few months.”

  “Before or after our wedding?”

  “Probably before.”

  “Would it be a desk job?”

  “No, it’s not a desk job. I’d still be in the field.”

  “In the Middle East?”

  I nodded. “I’d be working in the Middle East, and I’d still be working with Douglas.”

  “That doesn’t sound much different than what you’re doing now.”

  “Well, there are some major differences in the two positions, but we can discuss those later. Here’s our turnoff,” I said, pointing up at the exit sign for Falls Church.

  “If changing your position at the Agency means you won’t be around as much as you are now, then we definitely need to have that discussion,
and I’m telling you, Titus, if that’s the case, I might just pack my bag and come with you.”

  Little did she know.

  Little did I know.

  Chapter 46

  Anna Weatherly’s house was in a residential area about a mile from the freeway. When I turned off Washington Street and headed east on Jefferson, her house was the third residence on the right.

  I assumed Max Taylor’s house was the one to the east of Mrs. Weatherly’s since it was the only house flying the American flag.

  I parked the car on the street, holding Nikki’s hand as we walked up the slight incline toward Mrs. Weatherly’s red-brick house.

  Her front porch was the old-fashioned wraparound type, the kind of porch made for sitting around sipping lemonade on a hot summer day. Today, however, it was covered with rotting leaves from a large oak tree in the front yard.

  I rang the doorbell.

  Moments later, we heard the loud click of the door’s locking mechanism being released. However, it seemed to take an inordinate amount of time before the door actually swung open.

  When it finally happened, I immediately understood the delay.

  Anna Weatherly, who appeared at the door holding onto a metal walker, was having difficulty moving the ambulatory device out of the way in order for the heavy wooden door to be swung open.

  “Oh, my,” she said, motioning us inside. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. I know it must be cold out there.”

  “No, no, we’re fine,” Nikki assured her.

  Once we stepped inside, I offered to close the door for her. “Here, let me get that for you.”

  “Oh, thank you so much. I appreciate your help.” She extended her hand toward me. “I’m Anna Weatherly.”

  Her gravelly voice indicated she was probably a smoker, and my suspicions were soon confirmed when I caught the pungent odor of tobacco emanating from her clothes.

  “I’m Titus Ray, and this is my fiancée Nikki Saxon.”

  Once we shook hands, she pointed off to her left. “Please, don’t wait for me. Have a seat in the living room. I’ll be right there.”