After opening arguments and a slew of witnesses, Natasha is the only one of the partners who is willing to take the witness stand and not plead the Fifth Amendment. But Natasha is smart. She has negotiated an agreed immunity deal with the prosecution and the feds. She will be free when this is all over. The only partner to walk away from it all.
When Cat sees her face, she understands why Natasha has agreed to turn State’s witness and go into witness protection.
The United States government calls Natasha Klenkov as its star witness.
Everyone in the courtroom turns around and the heavy double wooden doors open and Natasha enters the courtroom. There is a hushed silence as the woman walks in.
She wears a broad-brimmed black hat, so her face is obscured as she walks slowly to the witness stand.
The confident young woman Cat knew from before moves differently now. It is as if fifty years have been added to her life in just months. Her shoulders hunch over. She no longer walks straight and tall. She moves with a slow shuffle, favoring her left side over her weaker right.
As she takes the witness stand and is sworn in, she lifts her face so everyone can see it.
Cat now understands why she moves so differently. Cat now understands the reason that Natasha’s chin is down, her face tilted down as she initially takes the stand. Cat now understands the reason for the barrier between Natasha and the external world.
While the thick night black hair still glistens like oil, Natasha’s face is in ruin.
My God.
Now only one ice blue eyes peers out to the courtroom crowd. Half of Natasha’s face has been savaged by the dogs. Cat can see Natasha’s face is no longer beautifully symmetrical. Her skin is no longer alabaster smooth.
My God. Poor Isabella seeing her only child like this.
Cat studies Isabella’s expression intently to see if her face changes at the sight of her daughter like this. To see if Isabella will give anything away. To see if Isabella will react at all. There is nothing. Just a cold stare.
Isabella no longer cares.
She no longer believes in anything.
By testifying, Natasha is dead to her.
The bond between mother and daughter has been broken forever.
The bond between mother and daughter will never be repaired.
From Isabella’s stoic expression, Cat can see that in Isabella’s mind and soul, her true daughter died that night at the house. Her true daughter, the one who loved her, fell from the balcony to her death. Her true daughter, the one who loved her, would not be testifying against her.
Clayton looks the same. He registers absolutely nothing on his face showing care for the physical or psychological condition of this woman he once admired.
Thomas looks the same.
That person is dead to him now.
Natasha makes an effort to look at them. This is finally her moment to shine and tell what she knows. Natasha will be silent no longer. She looks straight out into the courtroom, apparently enjoying this role before the packed courtroom, cameras rolling. Cat knows she is willing herself not to look at her mother. From her actions, her demeanor, Natasha no longer considers Isabella her mother. Isabella is just a person to her now. Natasha is alone in the world now.
Natasha’s testimony begins like most others—name, date of birth, et cetera.
Then she breaks into a speech from the witness stand.
Cat sits listening to it firsthand in court. Cat can still feel the sting from Natasha’s smack across her face. Cat’s eye socket had indeed been broken. She is just now starting to regain her full vision in that eye. Happy the swelling has gone down some.
Natasha’s one blue eye shines as she looks down at a jam-packed courtroom.
Her vision finds Cat’s for just a moment. They hold each other in that moment. Acknowledging all that has happened to get each of them to this point. Natasha realizing she has no mother. Cat realizing she will always be a mother first, to Joey, above all else. In that instance, Natasha and Cat are holding on to something in the memories of it all. And yet holding on to nothing.
Natasha’s vision focuses on the far courtroom doors again. It is as if she must look at nothingness to allow herself to speak. She cannot be tied to anything or anyone she cares for or knew in this moment.
For now, life begins anew for Natasha.
Her voice is low, trembling. “I am the head of the Operation. Clayton, my uncle was much like my father who is dead. My father, while he was still a diplomat, started the business. He knew some of the places to spread the money to get the most use out of it. Clayton helped with his business expertise. But I am the one who took the Operation to the next level. Passports, open borders, free rein, murder. We bought and sold priests and popes, presidents and kings. Some with money. Some with women. Some with little boys. Some with drugs. We used kidnapping and extortion to persuade the self-righteous. I was the better observer of people than my father, my mother, or Clayton.”
Natasha pauses, takes in a deep breath as if to draw strength. She keeps talking. Clayton does not react to the mention of his name. He does not react to these accusations.
“I always knew how, when and to what extent to apply pressure to get what I wanted. I always got what I wanted.”
She glances in the direction of Clayton, Thomas and Isabella and the others for just a second and then looks out at the crowd again. Her voice is getting louder. No longer trembling. Natasha’s chin lifts slightly, as though she is finding newborn physical strength by speaking these words.
“And Thomas. You were nothing more than my mother’s plaything. You offered nothing of value, other than to act as a front when necessary for what we were doing. You thought yourself a valuable part of the Operation, but you meant nothing to me.”
Natasha sat straighter in the wooden witness chair.
“The Operation got what it needed. To thrive and to grow. To make money.”
She pauses once more. Cat is not sure if it is for effect.
“I am the responsible one. Just me.”
Natasha looks from left to right, taking in the entire courtroom before her with her single blue eye.
The courtroom is silent.
No one there knows more than Cat that the moment she opens her mouth it is all a lie. Isabella was always the head of the Operation.
Is this just a child trying to protect her parent?
Is Natasha sacrificing what she holds most dear—her relationship with her mother—to help them?
Clayton, Isabella, Thomas, Yosef and the others sit in silence, staring straight at Natasha. None have the guts to stand up and tell the world the truth.
Natasha Klenkov walks out of that courtroom that day a free woman. A free woman, with no family and no friends. She is alone in the world. She walks out with ruined looks. A ruined soul.
With the help of the United States government, she will start a new life, with a new name in a new town, somewhere in the United States. She will never see Clayton, Isabella, Thomas, Yosef or the others ever again. She will never see her mother again.
In the end, it doesn’t matter. The convictions come down.
It is over.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Endure, and preserve yourself for better things.
—Virgil, Aeneid
Cat walks up to the small wooden cabin, observing the smoke coming out of the chimney stack.
Good, someone is home.
Whittier, Alaska, is about as far away and remote from Florida as Natasha could get. Just 60 miles south of Anchorage, only 217 people live here. The town is accessible only by boat and a one-way, one lane tunnel. Commonly referred to as the “town under one roof,” it was clear that Natasha had chosen this place to live the rest of her life for two reasons. First, everyone knew everyone, so if there was a stranger among them, they would know it in an instant. Secondly, the Anton Anderson Memorial tunnel was 2.5 miles and was designed to withstand 40 Fahrenheit temperatures and 150 mile-an
-hour winds. They tunnel was one-way, so you would see an attacker coming before they could reach you.
Getting here had given Cat the creeps. The tunnel made Cat feel claustrophobic and wondering if she had made the right decision to make this journey. Cat had had to wait the 30 minutes, while they switched the direction to the one lane only tunnel. In that time, she wondered what Natasha would look like and who she had become in the six months since the trial.
Now, as she walked up to the cabin’s red door, Cat was about to find out. Cat’s heart pounded hard in her chest, as she stood on the stoop and raised her right hand to knock hard. At first, there was no sound from inside the cabin. Then, the sound of a dog barking – from the sound of it, a big dog. The door opened just slightly and Cat found herself with a rifle pointed at her face.
A woman’s voice from behind the door. “You got the wrong cabin. Leave.” There was not an ounce of uncertainty in the command. It was sure and quick, just as Natasha had always been. Cat recognized the voice in an instant. The dog’s barking grew louder.
“I know you.” It was the only thing Cat could think to say.
“What?”
“I know you from before. As Natasha?”
“What?”
“Let me in. I need to talk to you.”
There was no verbal response, but the door opened enough so Cat could walk through and into a sparsely decorated but homey living room. Cat closed the door behind her. Natasha stood in front of a roaring fireplace, her feet set shoulder width apart, the rifle at the ready pointed at Cat’s head. A handsome black and white Alaskan Malamute sat at Natasha’s feet, growling, icy blue eyes eying Cat with disdain and intensity.
Gone was the Ukrainian beauty with hair the color of black oil and eyes the color of ice. Now, Natasha was heavier set, sporting long brown hair and eyes that same ice blue.
From the looks of it, Natasha had had multiple plastic surgeries to repair her face to some semblance of what it used to be. The scars had healed up to some extent, but still left visible lines across Natasha’s skin. The dog was on all fours ready to advance towards Cat. “No, Bear,” Natasha said, “stay.” The dog did as it was told and once again sat before its master’s feet, eyes glued to Cat’s every move.
Natasha’s demeanor was hostile. “What are you doing here? How did you know where to find me?”
Natasha did not let the gun’s barrel drop a millimeter as she asks these questions in rapid fire.
“Who sent you? How did you find me?”
Cat tried to speak, but Natasha’s questions kept coming. “Did Isabella send you to kill me? Who told you I was here?”
“No. I’m not here to kill you. Nate Conners at the FBI was able to tell me about you. Your new identity.”
“Why did you come?”
“I wanted to make sure you are alright. To let you know you are not alone in the world, if that makes any sense. And I have news…”
“What news…”
Natasha slowly began to lower the gun to her side. For now, Cat was not a threat. The dog, Bear, sensing the threat had lessened let down his guard too, although his eyes did not leave Cat.
“About your mother.”
“Isabella. She means nothing to me.”
“She committed suicide four days ago while in prison. She left a note addressed to you. I brought it to you.”
Natasha’s prickly demeanor changed. Gone was the hostile woman. In an instant, she was replaced by a young woman desperate for more time with her mother. Natasha began to cry.
“What did you say? Suicide? A note?”
Cat reached into her handbag and produced a folded piece of paper. “It’s for you.”
Natasha sat on a thread bare couch, her fingers trembling as she took it from Cat. Outside, Cat could hear the Alaskan winds blowing hard. A snow storm was rolling in. Just as a storm had just rolled into Natasha’s heart. Cat sat next to Natasha on the couch. Bear, sensing his master’s distress, jumped up on the couch and snuggled in close to Natasha’s side.
Dogs are such intuitive creatures.
Natasha’s shaking fingers opened the note to read it. Her tears came more quickly as her eyes scanned each word and she read the note out loud.
As you read this note, you know that I am gone. Even with what happened, you were always loved and never far from my mind, heart or soul. I understand the choices that you made. I hope you understand that my choices were not easily made in life. The choice to give birth to you at such a young age. The choice to give you up with the thought I might never see you again. The choice to find you and bring you to America. The choice to make you part of the Operation. All these things I did out of love and sacrifice for you. I will always love you, my darling Natasha. And now that I am gone, I pray you will forgive me for turning my back on you.
I always loved you. I will see you when we meet again, be it in heaven or hell. Until then, with love.
Eternally yours,
Your mother, Isabella
Natasha’s body shook in grief as she read the words.
Cat did not know what to say to Natasha to comfort her at this moment. No words could be enough. So Cat took the note from Natasha’s trembling fingers and set it on the coffee table. She turned towards Natasha and held her hand at first. Natasha, overcome with grief, hugged Cat hard as the endless tears came. Cat tried to comfort this young woman but nothing seemed to work. Finally, after what seemed forever, Natasha started to pull it together. She looked at Cat and said, “Now I am truly alone in the world. There is no one for me.”
“You are wrong. I will always be here for you. I know what you have been through. I am probably one of the few people in the world you can talk to about what you have been through. The criminal convictions, everything. No one here knows anything about that. But I do. I will always be here for you.”
Natasha looked into Cat’s eyes for the longest time, searching them, as if she could not believe what Cat was saying, the promise she was making. “I know what you are saying is the truth. Thank you for bringing this note to me. All this way.”
Cat and Natasha hugged again. Natasha sat silent for a while, Bear curled around her feet, looking up at her face stained with tears.
“You are now like a mother to me.” Natasha said these words without hesitation.
“Yes, now and always.”
Cat took Natasha’s hand, and felt a bolt of hope fill her, deep in her heart.
Cat knew in that instant, she had done the right thing by coming here.
A bond of respect and friendship between past enemies.
Forged in this moment of life.
For now, it was enough.
A BRIEF GLIMPSE INTO DR. CATHERINE POWERS NEXT ADVENTURE WHERE SHE BECOMES THE EYES AND EARS OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES AS SHE DEALS WITH TERRORISTS INTENT ON SPREADING MAYHEM ACROSS AMERICA.
A POLITICAL THRILLER
BOMB BLAST
PROLOGUE
Whom the Gods love dies young.
—Menander, The Double Deceiver
Everything will change forever on March 12.
This is what Conrad intends. It is what he always foresaw.
A day he will not forget.
A day that the world will not forget.
Waiting and watching was the easy part , building the bomb was not. Conrad had learned from years of experience. He had learned so many things over the years. How to blend into society in America. How to be inconspicuous in a crowd. How to look like you weren’t watching those around you, even when you were. How to listen. How to look for patterns in people’s everyday lives.
His father taught him these things, and so much more, those many years ago in Syria. He took out the photo of his family from his shirt pocket. It was now faded some, the way 25-year-old photographs do, the edges worn and frayed from years of being held and looked at and all the memories that came with those times, long ago. This photo he had looked at over and over again. The edges worn, somewhat tattered.
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He was nine when the photograph was taken all those years ago. He kissed his father’s face in the photo and put it away.
Sitting here, listening to the sound of the city, he remembered what it was like coming to America at the tender age of twelve, later changing his Syrian name to something more American sounding and becoming a naturalized U.S. citizen. He remembered getting a U.S. passport – its navy cover with the shiny gold lettering on the front. Other than the olive tone to his skin, he looked and sounded like a native-born American. It was as he planned it.
It was going to be a glorious day.
A beautiful day for a bombing.
* * *
Conrad Shelley sits in a car parked on 64th, New York. He waits. A burner cell phone that had been provided to him the day before in his hand. Outside, he watches the Head of the Federal Reserve, Bernard Shaw, walk out of a posh apartment building and into a waiting polished, waxed, gleaming black Jaguar sedan. It is pristine; not a nick on it.
The man moves with a slight shuffle to his right, the inevitable fall out from prior attacks. Conrad knows all about Bernie, as his friends call him. All about his life in banking and lobbying before heading the Federal Reserve. All about his powerful friends in corporate America and around the world. All about his family, where he lives, what year of Bordeaux red he most favors what he likes to eat, what restaurants he frequents and what private school his kids attend. What Conrad likes to call “his comings and goings.”
Bernie has no idea he is such an open book.
Conrad watches as Bernie’s security personnel get in step behind him. Just thirty feet away. These are the type of men that are supposed to be invisible, but they never are.
Dying Declaration Page 23