Prayers for the assassin

CHAPTER 5

“Sarah’s gone? What does that mean?”

“She ran away two days ago.” Redbeard checked his watch. “Make that three days now. She disappeared Friday morning, after teaching her first class.”

Rakkim put a hand on him. “You’re certain she wasn’t snatched?”

Redbeard slapped Rakkim’s hand away, walked off the main path. He moved a little stiffly.

Rakkim followed him deeper into the garden, ducking his head to pass through the elephant ferns and clumps of hanging lilies, flowers for the dead, cloying. Even with the full moon it was murky in the garden, but Redbeard knew where he was going. So did Rakkim. At a small clearing beside a rock waterfall, Redbeard sat down, supporting himself with one hand for a moment. Rakkim joined him.

Redbeard pursed his lips. “Sarah left on her own. I thought at first that she had gone with you, but she called Friday night. She said she was safe and I shouldn’t worry.”

“Why would she run away? What did you do?”

“I was looking after her,” said Redbeard, glaring. “I had arranged a marriage between her and a suitable man, not an easy thing at her age, particularly after the publication of that damned book of hers. The Saudi ambassador offered his fifth son, Soliman, a petrochemical executive, and I accepted. Soliman has two wives, but they live in the Kingdom, protected from the supposed moral taint of our nation. Sarah was to be his primary spouse and they were to live here in the ambassador’s compound. Soliman is well educated, cosmopolitan-”

“How considerate of you.” Rakkim had seen them together, followed them without Sarah’s knowledge. The Saudi held his coffee cup with both hands while he drank, as though not trusting his own grip. “You found a moderate for her. Sarah could still teach and go to movies. She might even be able to dance at her own wedding.”

“Should I have waited until someone discovered the two of you sneaking around in sin? Then Sarah would have had no prospects.”

Rakkim stayed silent. Rakkim could ignore Redbeard’s wishes, but in spite of her age and income, Sarah was expected to obey her guardian.

“I want you to find her.”

“You have plenty of agents. What do you need me for?”

“I trust you.”

“Why would I bring her back? I’m just sorry she didn’t call me first.”

“She’s going to get herself killed,” Redbeard said quietly. “An unmarried woman who leaves home without permission is always at risk, and Sarah’s writings have made her a target. She doesn’t appreciate the situation-”

“You think the Black Robes would dare go after your niece?”

“It would be foolish, but people in power do foolish things all the time.”

“Oxley is too cautious, too smart…” Rakkim stopped. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Mullah Oxley is cautious, but there are others among the Black Robes who do not consider that an admirable quality.” Redbeard fingered his beard. “I did my best to cover Sarah’s absence. She’s taken sudden sabbaticals before when her research required it. The chair of the History Department was fooled. Someone else was not.” A vein in his thick neck pulsed. “The day after she disappeared, I got word that certain bounty hunters had been given the commission to find her. Specialists in returning errant wives and daughters. My men intercepted two teams of hunters. One of my best agents, Stevens, whose nose you chose to break, led the captures, but I’m sure there are other teams looking-”

“Who hired them?”

“They were contacted anonymously. Their commission untraceable.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle, I’ll find her. I won’t bring her back so you can marry her off, but I’ll find her. Then you can send out Stevens to find us.”

“Spare me your threats. I’ve already made my excuses to the ambassador. I told him today that Sarah was in seclusion seeking spiritual guidance. That was reason enough for him to call off the wedding. The pious are always suspicious of devotion in others.”

“You should have let us marry.”

“I should have done many things.”

“I was an officer in the Fedayeen then, I had brought honor to you. There was no reason for you to deny us your blessing.”

“My blessing seems to be the only thing denied the two of you.”

Rakkim felt his cheeks flush.

“You were cautious, I’ll give you that. I thought once she was married, that would be the end of such foolishness.” Redbeard dipped a hand in the stream, let the cold water rush over his fingers, his eyes half-closed. “I spoke with your imam. He said you haven’t been to mosque in years.”

“Guilty.”

“You avoid the company of believers. You spend your days with Catholics and worse.”

“Oh, much worse.”

“Have you become an apostate, then?”

“I believe that there is no God but Allah, and that Muhammad is his messenger. That is all I am certain of. I remain a Muslim. Not a good Muslim, but a believer all the same.”

“Then there is still hope for you.” Redbeard peered at him. “I heard a story that might interest you. It’s about a travel agent who takes no money for his services. Imagine that. Emigration without permission is an act of treason. Anyone connected with the act is equally culpable. Yet there is a smuggler who works for free. What would make a man do something like that?”

“A good Muslim is required to feed and shelter those who appear on his doorstep.”

Redbeard looked amused. “Ah, but you are not a good Muslim. Isn’t that what you just told me?”

Rakkim didn’t return the smile. “Was I really so unsuitable?”

“I had other plans for Sarah. Other plans for you too.” Redbeard backhanded the stream, sent water splashing into the foliage. “A lot of good it did me.”

Rakkim noticed that the right side of Redbeard’s face was slack. He had thought at first that it was just a trick of the poor light. “What happened to you?” He moved closer. “You favor your left leg when you walk, and here…” He lightly touched Redbeard’s cheek. “A fresh scar. Your beard doesn’t grow there anymore. Something happened.”

“There was an attempt on my life last month. They died. I didn’t. That’s all.”

“The Black Robes?”

Redbeard shrugged. “As you said, Mullah Oxley is too cautious to attack me directly, but it might have been someone in the hierarchy, one of his deputies hoping to curry favor. Or, it might have been another’s hand at work. A new player perhaps.”

“Who do you think was behind the attempt?” persisted Rakkim.

“Find Sarah, and perhaps you and I will turn our attention to that riddle.”

There was no sense trying to get more information out of Redbeard. “If Sarah’s been gone since Friday, she could be anywhere by now. You should have called me sooner.”

“She’s still here. Her call Friday night was local. The airports and train stations were already keyed to her profile-”

“There are other ways to leave the city.”

“Sarah doesn’t know she’s running for her life. She thinks she just has to stay gone long enough for me to call off the wedding. She knows Seattle. She won’t feel the need to leave. She thinks she can call me up in a month and invite me to lunch, and I’ll forgive her. I would forgive her too, but we don’t have that luxury.” Redbeard straightened his posture, winced. “I’ve assembled a complete file for you: her phone logs for the last six months, the memory cores from her computers, a list of her friends.” He sounded calm. “Whatever else you need, just ask and-”

“I’ll handle it.”

Redbeard looked past him. “I promised myself when you quit the Fedayeen that I was done with you. I told myself that you were dead…but you were not. The nights seem longer as the years pass. More often now, I wander through the house with only my footsteps to keep me company and wish you were beside me.” He swallowed. “Sarah…” His voice broke, but he kept his head high. “Now she’s gone too. I blame myself.”

If Redbeard was waiting for Rakkim to disagree, he would be waiting for a long time.

They sat beside the waterfall, listening to the cascading water, neither of them speaking. Alone in the garden, out of sight of the stars and satellites. Whether God was watching, neither of them knew.

Rakkim pushed his sleeve up, reached through the waterfall, and brought out a couple of bottles of Coca-Cola from Redbeard’s hiding place. He handed one to the startled Redbeard, unscrewed the other, and took a swallow. It was so cold his teeth ached. “Ahhh. No matter what they say, Jihad Cola is swill.” He clicked his bottle against Redbeard’s. “Fuck the embargo.”

Redbeard was aghast. “How long have you known?”

“Since a month after you brought me home.”

Redbeard shook his head as he opened the bottle. “That’s what I get for not counting.”

Rakkim had always been careful not to hit the stash unless Redbeard had recently restocked the secret grotto, and though he had shared his pilfered Cokes with Sarah, he had never revealed her uncle’s hiding place to her. She would not have been able to restrain herself, would have gotten them caught, not out of greed, but from a sense of joyous abandonment, a deliberate flaunting of the rules. He loved Sarah for her sense of invulnerability, but he knew better.

Rakkim drank deep. “Those peckerwoods in the Bible Belt are black-hearted infidels and eaters of swine, but you have to admit, they know how to make soda pop.”

Redbeard took a sip. “Peckerwoods have the formula, that’s the difference.”

“Time for our scientists to start working on that formula.” Rakkim admired the bottle. “Who could imagine something this good would be illegal?” he asked innocently. “Possession of contraband. Two years hard labor, no parole.”

“Don’t try to understand the law.”

“The law is beyond my comprehension, we both know that.” Rakkim took another swallow. “You ever had RC Cola?”

“Long time ago.”

“I had some about eight years ago…Tennessee…my first solo recon inside the Bible Belt. Checking out rumors of nuclear activity at the old Oak Ridge facility.” Rakkim took a sip, savoring the taste. “I spent three months blending in, beardless as a newborn. Worked the turpentine trail, fixing home electronics door-to-door, chatting up the housewives and factory workers. Joined the local church. Sat right next to the local sheriff, skinny black man with a wine-stain birthmark on his cheek, the two of us belting out ‘The Old Rugged Cross.’ I like that hymn.” Another sip. “Didn’t handle any snakes. Peckerwoods are supposed to do that, but I never saw it. Good people…I was surprised at that too. I guess I shouldn’t have been. Sarah always said they weren’t that different than us. Read your history, Rakkim.” He felt Redbeard’s eyes on him as he fingered the bottle. “And the food-you have fresh peach pie at a Pentecostal church social, fresh peach with a ball of homemade vanilla ice cream, and you’ll think about converting back to that old-time religion. Don’t give me that look, it’s the truth. I was there. The people, the food, the little kindnesses…girls in their summer dresses…small things, but if it hadn’t been for Sarah, the memory of her…” He looked at Redbeard. “I didn’t find any nukes. At least I never got a hit on my radiation patch.” He watched the bubbles rise in the bottle of Coke. “Oak Ridge people are partial to RC Cola. Their roads are worse than ours, and beef is scarce, but they got everything you’d ever want to drink. Bubble-Up, Seven-Up, Everclear moonshine, and bourbon so smooth it’s like drinking sunlight. I drank it all, Redbeard. I had to. They’re on the lookout for infiltrators, and a man who turns down corn whiskey gets a long, hard look. Coca-Cola’s still my favorite, though. So you can tell my imam I’m not beyond the light.” Rakkim took a long swallow, the icy sweetness like an avalanche down his throat. He stared at Redbeard. “All that fresh-bottled Coca-Cola…peckerwood’s finest, and none of it tasted as good as what I stole from your secret stash. Why do you think that is, Uncle?”

“Find her, Rikki. Please?”

Try as he might, Rakkim could not recall a single previous occasion when Redbeard had used the word please. It was almost enough of a surprise to stop him from thinking. Almost. “Why did Sarah leave now?”

“What…what do you mean?”

“Why didn’t she leave a week ago? Or next week? Why now? What was the trigger?”

“There was no trigger.”

“That’s not what you taught me. You said that whenever someone makes an abrupt decision, a hard choice that changes their life, that there’s always a trigger. Find the trigger and you learn the truth, that’s what you said.”

“This wasn’t an abrupt decision, so there was no trigger,” said Redbeard. “She fooled me. I thought she had accepted her betrothal, but she was planning to leave all along. She had been taking money out of her bank account for months, small amounts, not enough to get my attention.” He frowned. “Twenty-five years old, she should have been grateful I could still make a match for her.”

“You can’t think of any other reason why she would run away?”

Redbeard looked him in the eye. “None at all.”

“I’ll find her.” Rakkim set down the empty Coca-Cola bottle. Redbeard, he knew, was lying.