Merging Destiny

by D. Allen Henry

  Chapter 9

  Twisting Fate

  January 3, 2011 – Washington

  Elspeth stepped from the cab into the late night air, her thoughts still far away in London. Having paid the driver, she picked up her bag and, wincing from the still tender massive bruise on her chest, she thought to herself how fortunate she’d been to be wearing a bullet-proof vest that night in Paris. She then caught the elevator to her apartment and once there, she checked her phone messages. The first four were from reporters seeking interviews with the now-famous CIA agent who had singlehandedly foiled a terrorist attack on the Eiffel Tower, but the fifth one caught her attention immediately – it was the voice of Anna!

  The voice in the message said, “Elspeth, it’s Anna. I’m sorry I missed you, but as I am most likely dead by now, it really doesn’t matter. But there is one thing, Elspeth – check your mail!”

  At this revelation Elspeth slammed the phone down and immediately raced downstairs to her mail box. Grabbing the unwieldy heap of letters stuffed within, she raced back up the stairs, too impatient to await the elevator. Once back within her apartment, she tore through the stack. Finally, near the bottom, there it was – an otherwise inconspicuous letter post-marked from Egypt. Tearing it open, she read the following:

  December 23, 2010

  Dear Elspeth-

  I hope this letter finds you well. First, let me say how much I’ve missed you all these years. You see, you were and still are the best friend I’ve ever had. I assume you know - I’m not like you. I’m not vivacious and outgoing. Instead, I’m shy and extremely introverted, and for that reason (among others), I’ve not formed any friendships of significance since I left Boston all those years ago. But I digress.

  The reason I’m writing to you is to explain certain events that I suspect are related to the both of us. If my suspicions are correct, these events may put we two in mortal danger. So please take this letter seriously.

  You are perhaps wondering why I have chosen to write to you rather than actually visiting, or calling, or even e-mailing you. The fact is that every move I make is monitored. My e-mails are screened, and my phone is tapped. So you see – this is my only means of contacting you directly.

  So, to launch into things straightaway – it all started on that night when we played strip poker all those years ago. As I said – I’m not like you. You’ve always seemed so self-assured of your own sexuality. I, on the other hand, being trapped within both Muslim culture and traditional attire for women, never had the opportunity to obtain assurance of my own attractiveness to the opposite sex. In that sense – I believe that women everywhere are the same. In my case, the events of that night, when the other girls stripped off, and you showed the self-assurance to refrain, all of it served to sorely confuse me about my own sexuality.

  It gnawed at me, so much so that I eventually found myself forced to do something about it. One Saturday I took the train to Baltimore, and I performed in an amateur strip show. And yes, dear Elspeth, I did indeed go all the way that night. And that wasn’t the only time I did it. Eventually, I was stripping regularly, but I always wore a mask, thereby protecting my identity.

  I reasoned that no one would ever know that it was me, but eventually I slipped up. One night I got drunk and I got a tiny tattoo of a butterfly at the base of my spine. A few weeks later my obsession became so powerful that I entered a strip contest in Worcester, only a few miles from Boston. At first it seemed alright, but then to my horror I noticed Farhan in the audience. I figured it was a coincidence – that he hadn’t recognized me, but of course he had.

  Nothing happened at first, but when I got back home to Cairo, he showed up. I’m now certain that he had been following me that night in Worcester, for what purpose I knew not at that time, but when he did show up, he produced a film – a film that he had secretly made of me that night in Worcester. Had it not been for the tattoo, I might not have been recognizable in the film, but there it was, frame after frame for all the world to see.

  I don’t think I need tell you of the consequences for a Muslim woman should such a film ever become public, so it would be an understatement to say that I was terrified by his revelation. And under the circumstances I was powerless to resist his advances, including my forced marriage to him a short time later.

  I was naïve enough to hope that Farhan’s successful blackmailing of me would end with my capitulation to his marriage proposal, and I therefore determined to do my best as a good Muslim spouse to support my husband in my newfound circumstances. I also decided to give Farhan the benefit of the doubt, but unfortunately, my doubts began to resurface a short time later. I was treated as a prisoner from that time onwards, never being allowed to go off on my own. And so I have remained all these years.

  I had no idea at the time where Farhan came by it, but he appeared to have come into quite a great deal of money. He purchased an enormous apartment in downtown Cairo and surrounded himself with a vast array of security guards, shady business associates, and even women of ill repute. I was summarily pushed aside, left to ponder for what possible reason I had been blackmailed into marrying him, much less putting up with his ever more sordid lifestyle.

  The years passed, my confusion, and may I say – depression – growing with the excruciatingly turgid passage of time. And while I repeatedly sought ways to obtain your help, I never found sufficient reason to take such an enormous risk for the both of us.

  And now we come to the reason for this letter. That time has come – the time when circumstances have forced my hand. Recent events have convinced me that Farhan did indeed have an ulterior motive when he married me. I am saddened to say that his motive was in some way connected to you. Apparently, Farhan attempted during his time in Boston to take advantage of you, dear Elspeth but, having failed miserably, he turned his attentions to me in the forlorn hope that I might provide a means for him to get at you. Accordingly, I believe that Farhan is now planning to use me to either capture you or worse.

  You will find this difficult to believe, but I have been able to determine that both Farhan and I were sired by a man named Abdullah Al-Khoury. Although I have never met him, I am quite certain that he is the person behind all of this, for what reason I do not know. Beware, dear Elspeth, for Al-Khoury is the very worst sort. There is no hope for me. You must guard yourself against the possibility that the same fate may await you.

  I wish you well, and I hope that someday we shall meet again under happier circumstances, circumstances such as those we experienced in Boston, the happiest period of my life.

  Love-

  Anna

  At this revelation Elspeth curled into a tiny ball within her chair. The pieces of the puzzle were finally complete. Abdullah Al-Khoury and James Moorehead were in fact one-in-the-same person!

  Washington – January, 2012

  Hearing the ringing of the phone, Elspeth answered with, “Hello?”

  “Elspeth, it is I, Connor,” the distant voice responded.

  “Oh, Hello, Connor, it’s been what – a year? So what’s up?”

  “I have some news, I’d even say – good news for you!”

  “Oh, and what might that be?”

  “We got him, Elspeth, we got that son-of-a-bitch!”

  “Who?”

  “We got Abdullah Al-Khoury, killed by a drone last night.”

  “My goodness, I had no idea he was even still alive. Gee that’s great, Connor!”

  “Yep. So they’re all gone now, Hussein, Gaddafi, Bin Laden, and now, Al-Khoury.”

  “Where was he?”

  “He was hiding out in Yemen.”

  At this revelation Elspeth inquired, “How’d you find him?”

  “In the end, it was easy. He just couldn’t resist drawing on his hidden bank accounts, and of course, we eventually located all of them with the help of the Swiss government. We traced his latest withdrawal to a laptop computer in a small
village.”

  “Is it confirmed then?”

  “Oh, yes, his body was blown to pieces, but his DNA matches both Farhan’s and Anna’s.”

  “So it’s all true then,” Elspeth responded, “Al-Khoury was really my grandfather, James Moorehead, who was fired from Harvard University in 1968, and he subsequently somehow ended up being one of the worst terrorists in modern history.”

  “That’s pretty much it, and God knows why, his vendetta was neither religious nor political, it was entirely personal. He managed to kill off quite a few people in his quest to get even with the Stewart family. He got his first daughter and her husband killed in the Lockerbie bombing. Then, Sloan having already passed away, he went after Sabrina in Las Vegas, but the bombing was botched when Patience Walker misplaced it, as we now know, on purpose. After that he went after Patience in an effort to shut her up, and instead of killing her he wiped out the Twin Towers, along with nearly three thousand innocent people. Then he went after you, and in the process he managed to nearly blow up Notre Dame Cathedral and The Eiffel Tower, not to mention getting two more of his children killed. I’d say he ranks right up there with Osama bin Laden as one of the most heinous criminals of our time.”

  Elspeth thought for a moment, but then she suddenly realized, “Looks like our job is at an end, Connor, or at least our association.”

  “Perhaps, but I do hope to see you again sometime, Elspeth.”

  “Me, too Connor. In the meantime, take care.”

  “You, too, Elspeth. Bye.”

  “Bye, Connor.”

  Boston – December, 2013

  Elspeth’s grandmother finally passed away, a victim of heart disease at the advanced age of eighty-nine. The realization now struck Elspeth that she was entirely alone in this world. After all she had been through, her life had degenerated into a drab everyday existence of total boredom. Steeling herself, she told herself that it was just what she needed, but it was nonetheless difficult to experience the mundane.

  Elspeth summoned the energy to assemble her grandmother’s personal effects, the objective being to sell what she could and store the remainder. And so it was that, while sifting through Sabrina’s acquisitions of a lifetime, she made a small discovery – a key to a deposit box with a note attached to it saying ‘Warning: To be used upon my death solely by Elspeth Moorehead to open safe deposit box number 231986 at the Security Bank of Boston’.

  Elspeth fretted for a week but eventually realized that, given her inquisitive nature, she couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie. Accordingly, on a cold December morning she approached the bank with trepidation, a slow but ever mounting dread of what might lay within her grandmother’s safe deposit box. After all that she had survived over the years, all the trials she had been through over the course of her lifetime - how, she asked herself, could she be so terrified of a little box? The answer of course was that it was the unknown – her grandmother’s note had made it clear that the contents of the box presented some sort of danger – but what on earth could it be?

  Once inside she was ushered to the secured area, wherein she summarily located the box and inserted the key. A moment’s hesitation, and then she mounted the courage to turn the key, thereby inducing the anticipated sound of the tumblers falling into place. She tugged the box from its supports and placed it on the table. Taking a deep breath, she switched the latch and opened the box. Within she found two items, the first being a scrap of paper with a note written on it.

  The handwritten note read as follows:

  My Dear Elspeth-

  I always knew this day would come. I hope that my passing has not distressed you terribly. As you doubtless know, this moment is the essence of humankind, when a woman gives her offspring her final farewell. Let me say that, while my life has been filled with turmoil, I am greatly satisfied with the outcome. My first marriage to your grandfather Sloan was quite stormy, but in the end our first marriage produced your mother who in her turn produced you, and our second marriage resulted in the happiest time of my life. And of course, there was the ever so lovely denouement – the closing years of my life with you, my dear.

  I shall not belabor my own story further, for you shall find it all described in the attached manuscript, aptly entitled My Father the God. I have kept it all these years for the simple reason that I could not bring myself to divulge the horrible secret hidden within. However, as you are now a grown woman, it seems appropriate for you to be informed of all the details. I hope that their disclosure does not alarm you unnecessarily.

  Now, there is one last detail – the matter of your inheritance. It will perhaps come as a surprise to you to discover that you are in fact wealthy. While it surely did not appear to you that I was wealthy, the fact is that your grandfather was quite successful during his lifetime. You will be apprised of the details regarding your inheritance by our solicitor, Mr. Royce Delaney, of Squires, Simpson and Delaney in downtown Boston. Rest assured, he is awaiting your visit.

  I have now come to the end of my soliloquy, so that it remains only for me to say this – make the most of what you learn from the contents of this box – may you live a long and happy life.

  Love-

  Sabrina Stewart

  Your Grandmother

  The tears now welling up within her, Elspeth could do naught but burst into uncontrollable sobs and, her knees giving way, she sank to the floor in the depth of misery. She had lost her last relative, her rock for all these years, and now she must go it all alone. How would she live on without her grandmother?

  Three Days Later

  Elspeth dragged herself from bed, the reality of recent days sweeping over her yet again at the dawning of another day. The funeral had been small and sad, but she had suffered through it all, her grandmother’s plea to ‘live a long and happy life’ echoing in her mind throughout the eulogy.

  Though she had not had the nerve to visit her mother’s lawyer, she now understood that if she was to succeed in accomplishing her mother’s charge, she must find a way to move forward. The first step in that process obviously being to read the manuscript, she showered, put on her favorite robe, and began her mission with the support of a strong cup of coffee.

  Slumping down on the living room sofa, she placed the document before her. Unable to bring herself to start straightaway, she stared out the window for several minutes, the events of her life slowly passing before her eyes. Then, her thoughts finally arriving at the present, she opened the manuscript to the first page and began to read My Father the God.

  Hours later, now nearly halfway through it, she realized that there was clearly a mystery therein, but somehow she hadn’t been quite ready to read it all the way through. Suddenly realizing she’d become so engrossed that she’d not eaten a thing, she retreated to the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee and, crunching on a handful of cornflakes, she pondered her next move.

  The attraction of this strange account – the story of the intertwined lives of all four of her grandparents – was certainly compelling. But there was too much yet to resolve within her own evolving life. Accordingly, she placed the manuscript aside, in the process promising herself she would get back to it when circumstances permitted.

  Downtown Boston - Two Days Later

  Elspeth approached the receptionist and announced, “Good morning, I’m Elspeth Moorehead. I have an appointment with Mr. Delaney.”

  “Yes, of course,” the receptionist responded, and rising from her seat she added, “If you will, please follow me. Mr. Delaney is expecting you.”

  Entering his office, Elspeth was introduced to a large but garrulous sixtyish-looking man, identified by the receptionist as the object of Elspeth’s visit.

  He arose and, extending his hand in a friendly gesture, he offered, “Pleased to meet you, Miss Moorehead. I heard so much about you from your grandmother over the years. She was such a lovely lady. May I offer you my condolences for your loss.”

/>   “Thank you, Mr. Delaney,” she replied, “I do so miss her.”

  There was a moment of somehow appropriate silence, and then Elspeth broke it, suggesting, “Well, Gran seems to have forced this visit on the both of us, so shall we launch directly into our assigned task?”

  “Well said,” he responded, “As I’m sure you know, your grandmother was never one for idle chit chat.”

  Smiling her accord, Elspeth agreed, “Just so, Mr. Delaney, just so.”

  “Please, Miss Moorehead, call me Royce, if you will.”

  “Yes, of course,” she responded, “And please call me Elspeth.”

  “Thank you, Elspeth. Perhaps in time we shall become friends, brought together at such an untimely moment by your grandmother’s dying wish.”

  “That would be nice, Royce. But as you were clearly a friend of hers, it will not surprise me if the same can at some future time be said of we two.”

  “Excellent,” he replied sheepishly, “And now, down to business. You have read the manuscript, I trust?”

  “Yes,” she lied, “But how did you know about it?”

  “Oh, I was instructed to read it years ago.”

  “Oh, by whom?”

  “Actually, your father gave a copy to me shortly before the Lockerbie bombing.”

  “My, my…” she murmured thoughtfully, “Why ever for?”

  “Oh, he wanted to be certain that you were apprised of the truth should something befall your mother and himself.”

  “My goodness, that certainly sounds prophetic…”

  “Well, perhaps. After all, something did come to pass, something terrible in fact. But if you are suggesting that your father anticipated his own demise, I doubt that very seriously. He was simply a man who was wont to leave things incomplete.”

  “Yes, well, there is that,” she mumbled thoughtfully, “I was quite young when they perished, but I was old enough to know that much about him. So you knew him…”

  “Yes, I did. Not well, mind you, but well enough to consider him a fine young man of the utmost character.”

  “Thank you for that, Royce. It means a great deal to me.”

  “You’re welcome,” at which point he paused for a moment, scratched his chin distractedly, and then he suggested, “Well, then…down to the business at hand. Your grandmother, being your only living relative upon your parents’ passing, was entrusted with executorship of your inheritance, which consisted of the entire estate of your parents. Accordingly, we two, your grandmother and I, worked together to ensure that your parents’ wishes were adhered to. And their wishes were that your estate be utilized in a way deemed best for you by your executor, in this case that person being your grandmother. We two worked together to appropriate whatever funds were necessary to ensure your wellbeing, and to invest the remainder wisely so as to grow the corpus over time.”

  “Yes, of course. I understand.”

  “Well, then it remains only to assure you that your inheritance is invested wisely, and it is now at your disposal as you see fit.”

  “And where is it invested, Royce?”

  “Why, it is invested with Boston Financial, and of course, the actual investments themselves are determined by my firm’s financial advisors, with appropriate redistributions made from time to time based on market fluctuations.”

  “I see, and just exactly how much is there at this point in time, Royce?”

  “Uhm, I’m not exactly certain, as the corpus fluctuates daily according to the Stock Market.”

  At this, Elspeth frowned in apparent frustration and spluttered, “Just give me a wild guess!”

  “Yes, of course,” Royce responded doubtfully and, hesitating a moment, he responded nearly inaudibly, “I should say between a hundred twenty and a hundred twenty-five million.”

  Her eyes widening in surprise, Elspeth blurted forcefully, “Dollars? You mean dollars?”

  “Why, yes – of course. You have something in excess of one hundred twenty million dollars inheritance, Miss Moorehead.”

  “But how can that be?” she queried in utter shock.

  “Your grandfather was a successful author, as you well know. He invested his earnings wisely, and on his passing your grandmother worked closely with us to ensure that his wealth was not squandered.”

  “Squandered? Squandered!” she exclaimed, “I should say it’s been anything BUT squandered. You’ve made me a VERY wealthy woman!”

  At this accusation all he could think of to say was, “Yes, just so…”

  “Oh, my…” she murmured to herself and, glancing back towards him, she added, “I’m afraid I must think this over a bit, Royce.”

  “Of course. I thought you might say that. Rest assured, your inheritance is absolutely safe. Take as long as you need, Elspeth. In the meantime, I shall continue as before, and at such time as you would desire to discuss it further with me, I am at your service. In the meantime, I have taken steps to draw the sum of $500,000 from your investment account and place it within your personal bank account. Will that do for now?”

  Glancing sideways at him, she smirked tongue-in-cheek, “Why, yes, I believe that should keep me going for a week or two…”

  At this he smiled pleasantly and, rising from his seat, he thrust his hand forward yet again and offered, “Then I shall look forward with anticipation to our next meeting, Elspeth.”

  Rising herself, she reached forward, accepted his hand, and responded delightedly, “It’s been a gas, Royce. I think I’m going to rather enjoy doing business with you.” And with that she turned and departed the room.