by Tom Corbett
Carlotta weaved to her computer and pulled up her email account.
TO: Atle Bergstrom
FROM: Carlotta Ciganda
RE: Ultimatum.
Dear sir, I must first say that I am quite drunk.
Nevertheless, I am giving you an ultimatum. You must decide what you want in life by the first of the year.
Love always…Carlotta
PS: In case you are confused, the answer is that you want me.
Kay sat down in her room.
TO: Jamie
FROM: Kay
RE: Pictures
Please take some pictures of you and the girls and send them.
Karen sat after the others had left. She tried to decide if she should call Kay and ask her to come back. In the end she did not. She also flipped her computer open.
TO. Deena
FROM: Karen
RE: A secret.
Dear Deena,
There is something I have been meaning to tell you. This is hard…
Then she stopped, she could no longer see the screen through the tears cascading down her face. She quietly buried her face in her hands.
CHAPTER 14
PRE - CHRISTMAS : LONDON 2016
Karen had found a Victorian townhouse to rent for the months of December and January, which the Crawford clan and associates could use during their visits. At one point or another, Chris, Amar, Azita, Kat and Ricky, Chris’s mother Mary, along with Atle and Carlotta and other staff, were expected to stop in to celebrate the holiday season. Beverly decided not to join the others, concerned that doing so might jeopardize the illusion that she had not joined the family cabal that had broken with the family patriarch. Ricky and Jules would also remain in Chicago to be with their mother, who was not well.
With some work, Chris’s place in Oxford might have handled part of the crowd but it was being used by a visiting American academic family and therefore was unavailable. Besides, London was better at Christmas time, more people and lights and festivities. It seemed dark all the time but that merely added to the cheer inside the houses and pubs and restaurants that now seemed in continuous revelry. It was also cold and bracing, but then again, Madison could be freezing and often miserable. The rental was pricy and would be unused for much of the period, but Chris did not hesitate for a moment.
The location was great, and the place was large enough to accommodate the expected crowds for some planned events that involved key staff from his London-based service organization and a few university colleagues. Besides, some of the stateside people might have needed a place to stay. People would be coming and going as schedules permitted but they would find room for all that wanted to share in the season’s good cheer. Hell, for the younger staff, they could throw sleeping bags on the floor. This was to be a break from the troubles in the world and a break it would be. Chris was even considering leasing the place long-term as a possible accommodation where the unmarried staff might live. London was burdened with high housing costs and this might prove a seductive recruiting perk.
Chris had flown over before the rest to work with Karen, Deena, Carlotta, and the other top staff. His early arrival also gave him a chance to catch up with his Oxford colleagues and to prepare for the arrival of all the others. As the rest began to arrive in London and settle in, he decided to get a tree and do the traditional things, though he could not quite figure out why. As he propped it up in the corner, Amar looked at him with a bemused expression.
“A tree, really?”
“Yeah, why?”
“And how many practicing Christians will be with us while we’re here?” Amar’s eyes took on a dubious look.
“Ah, there is Karen,” he tried.
Amar guffawed. “Karen? Give me a break.”
“Ah, there is what’s-his-name from Oxford? He said he would stop by. He is a believer, I think.”
“Now I see,” Amar grinned broadly. “Your good friend what’s-his-name. That convinces me.”
Chris stared at the tree for a moment or two. “Aha, mother. Mother is still a believer. That reminds me, we should find her a Catholic church to attend.”
“Okay, I give you your mother, but let me find the church, not you.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Amar chuckled. “If you entered a church, you would probably burst into flames.”
“Hah, says the woman who shamelessly threw herself at me the first night we met.”
“And who has never stopped regretting that deplorable lack of judgement ever since,” she said as she pulled him toward her and kissed him. “Damn, you are sexy even if you are an idiot.”
“Sure, that is what all the girls say.”
“That you are an idiot? That I can believe.”
He kissed her back. “My, you are on your game today. As punishment, you must help me decorate.”
“What? Me? I’ve never done that. Wait for your family.”
“Nah, we can surprise them. Besides, you are my family.” He grinned. “Hmmm, now that I think on it, we have the place to ourselves. Mom and the girls are with Kay, Azita is with Deena, I can remind you just how sexy I am. Why don’t we screw each other’s brains out in front of the fireplace?” He had his endearing crooked grin plastered over his face. “On second thought, let’s do the tree first. I am running out to the car to get ornaments and lights from the…boot. Might as well convert to Brit talk while back here.”
As he quickly moved to the door, she called out: “I am still not admitting in public that I agreed voluntarily to marry you. I am sticking to my shotgun wedding story. What in God’s name was I thinking?” She smiled to herself, she was on her game this morning. When she heard no retort from him, she picked up her cell phone.
Minutes later, as he sat unpacking and organizing the lights and baubles with a big smile on his face, Amar sighed. “By the way, Ahmad will be spending a lot of time here, another non-Christian.”
“Not to worry, I will get everyone smashed on spiked eggnog, he will believe in anything after a few belts of my famous Christmas libation.”
“Tell me, when did Father Christmas take possession of you?”
“You know, this amazes me more than you. I seem like the guy who loves people and can easily work a crowd but inside it is not easy for me. I am very private.”
“I know.” Amar remained serious, “but tell me how you see yourself.”
Chris considered a response as he began putting ornaments on the tree. Then, he started. “Well, it strikes me that there are two kinds of people in the world. Some get charged up being around people even if they start out at a low-energy level. Others deplete their energy level in the very act of being social. I am the latter. I need to work myself up to being around others. Not you and the kids, of course, but people who count.”
“What? Did you just hear yourself?” Before he could respond, however, she changed directions. “Never mind, as usual your mouth was engaged before your brain. However, speaking of Ahmad, which we were a bit ago before your tangent, I had an interesting chat with our eldest daughter. After Benjamin, she has been reluctant to…how shall I put it? - consummate any relationship.”
“What? They haven’t had sex yet?”
“Why are you surprised? Think of her culture. It is not easy for a Muslim girl and her experiences with Benji were…not so good. A lot of guilt at least.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her that the next time they were alone, she should rip his clothes off and ravage his body.”
For some reason, Amar’s graphic words, coming out with her lyrical Indian-British fused lilt, struck Chris as funny and he chortled aloud. “I never should have let you have the sex talk with her, I am the expert.”
“And if we ever have a male child, I will let you corrupt him. But Azita needs another woman, and someone from a similar culture. I strongly suspect your witty advice, which you probably got from Playboy magazine, would not be quite right. This had to be my respons
ibility.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” He was serious now and stopped fooling with the trinkets. “So, what is the story?”
“Well,” Amar responded, “I fear she has picked up way too much of your wit, as have I. You really do corrupt women.”
“It is my life’s obsession.”
“Right, in any case, she laughed at my advice and told me I was a very poor representative of the Indian culture. Then, she asked if my mother told me to go for it with some guy. We both laughed at that one.”
“What did you say in the end?”
Amar stared at the tree leaning against the wall. “Oh, I told her that we both had been raised wrong, that sex was neither good nor bad, not in itself. It is what we do with it, the meaning that we assign to it that is important. If she really comes to believe that this boy is the one that she wants to be with, she should join with him physically, not to trap him or buy his affection since that will not work. She should join with him to deepen her feelings and express what is inside her in this more intimate way. She nodded at my wise counsel, so I think she understood.”
Chris leaned over and kissed Amar again lightly. “I am glad you had that discussion with her and not me since I have no idea about what you just said.”
“Yes, I am sure Azita and I have the same feeling on that score. Anyways, I wanted you to know just in case Ahmad spends a night…with her or, more likely, she with him. I seriously doubt she would flaunt their physical relationship, should they ever have one.”
Chris absorbed that thought quickly, rather taken that he had paused for a moment over that possibility. He really did not want to think about his daughter having sex. “Got it. On another matter,” he returned to his light banter, “while you are evil and doomed to a tragic karmic fate, at least I know why you seduced me on that first night. You wanted to share your deep sense of love for me in an intimate way.”
“What?” Amar responded with incredulity. “Keep deluding yourself. I was just damn horny, and Kay told me that you would mount a coat rack. And then you turned me down at first. Not a good start I might say.”
“But a helluva finish, as they say.” He started kissing along her neck and she shivered. “I still recall how you orgasmed that night.”
“This is a great idea,” she cooed softly, “but I called people to help with the tree. Sorry. And to set the story straight about that orgasm, I faked it.”
“Your loss on the sex today, but how about a rain check?”
“Rain check for sure.” She smiled back.
“Hey, wait! You faked what? No, you didn’t.”
He was going to press his case, but the doorbell rang. It was not long before the large townhouse began to fill with people. Food appeared and drinks. There was the expected banter about the tree. Chris listened to the sarcasm and criticism for a while before rising to his own defense. “Alright everyone, listen up. I am still the titular head of the ISO and the day-to-day main guy on whatever we are doing in the States. So, you all work for me. One more word about the tree and you are all out on your ear. But I understand that Britain yet has a generous dole, so you should be okay.” He looked about the room with what he hoped was a menacing glare.
Amar laughed first. “Well, I am his wife and that puts me in charge of him. So, here is my dictate. The tree is stupid but, in the interests of universal love and to recognize my husband’s inner child, let us decorate the damn thing.”
A cheer went up. Atle was there, without his significant other. Carlotta was ecstatic, her eyes were bright, her look radiant. Karen and Kay showed up together, but not Jamie. April and Josef from the stateside staff also took advantage of Chris’s offer to visit London and take some time off. There were also a few of the London staff arriving, and even several from Oxford. Somehow the word spread, and a spontaneous party was developing. Chris managed to grab a couple of the London staff and send them out for more food and drink.
Karen and Kay found their way to Chris and Amar who were handing out ornaments. “Atle, you are a technical guy.” He yelled across the room. “Deal with these damn lights, will you?” Then he turned to those near him and said in a lower tone. “I better keep him occupied or Carlotta will jump his bones in front of everyone. If anyone is going to make a fool of himself this blessed season, it will be me - a known apostate and moral derelict.”
“And you are just the guy to do it,” Karen joked before moving on to a topic that dominated her thinking these days. “So, with that clown in the White House, probably no need for you to stay in the States after this spring. It is over, right?”
Karen was looking at Chris, but it was Amar who broke the ensuing silence as Chris looked at the ornament in his hand and then at the tree. “I was rather wondering the same thing.”
Chris still said nothing, putting the ornament on one branch, looking at it critically, before moving it to another. Amar reached over to take the bauble out of his hands.
Chris suddenly asked a question. “Have you ever heard of Sophie Scholl?” When the others looked confused, he continued. “She and her brother were students when Hitler was at the height of his powers in the early 1940s. There was little resistance to the Nazis in Germany by this time. They, however, decided to take a stand. They created the White Rose movement, a form of resistance to Hitlerism and what it stood for. They flooded the streets with pamphlets trying to wake up the people to what had happened to them, what was happening to them. She, and others in that small band, tried to tell them that they had slowly sacrificed their souls to a godless machine bent on nothing more that nihilistic destruction. Few heard the message at a time when Hitler marched toward control of all Europe. But they never stopped.”
“What happened to her, them?” Amar asked.
Chris did not answer. Rather, it was Kay, in a low, rather hard voice. “What would you expect? The Gestapo eventually caught her, and some of the others. She was tortured and killed, in 1943 I believe.”
“They should be doing documentaries about her on the History Channel and not the freaking Nazis.” Chris sounded bitter.
As Amar was about to speak, Chris’s phone rang. He looked relieved, as if making a deft escape. He glanced at the number and his eyes brightened. “Oops, need to take this one, everyone keep working,” he said as he found a quieter location. “Jules, merry Christmas. Wish you were here, as they say.”
“Wish I was as well. Sounds like a party there.”
“Yeah, we are putting up a tree, if you can believe it. My idea even.” Chris could not quite understand why he was embarrassed by that.
“Good for you. And you convinced Kat to join you without Ricky. He and I will be with mom. She is alone now and failing. It will likely be our last time as a family, her final Christmas with us. All rather bittersweet though she never has a down word.”
“Please give her my best.” Chris realized that his voice caught with emotion. “She is an amazing woman and has meant so much to me.”
“I will, she always said that you were the white boy she never had.”
“I…” Then he realized he could not say more without breaking up.
Jules knew and switched gears. “Listen, I will make this quick, let you get back to the party. I am making headway on some of this Russian stuff. Kat should be arriving there soon, but I didn’t have time to brief her before she left. Things are breaking fast. It is still under wraps, but Obama will accuse Russia of interfering in the U.S. elections before the end of the year. He will expel a bunch of Russians, low-level embassy personnel and private citizens.”
“Whew.” Chris exhaled and then asked. “Does this affect the election outcome?”
“Oh, no, not in the least. The fact that the Russians did it is not evidence of collusion, other than the fact that Trump publicly invited Putin to get Hillary’s emails and publish them. If he had done so in a clandestine fashion and got caught, that might be treason. I suppose he could now claim he was joking but there has got to be more there, and I am be
ginning to see what I can uncover.”
“I always knew you were devious,” Chris said.
“You were damn lucky to escape my clutches, kiddo. Now listen. I am getting inside info on several Russian players, Oleg Deripiska, Emin Agalapov, Viktor Vekselberg, and Eugeny Prigozhin.”
Never heard of these guys.”
“You are not supposed to. They are Putin confidants and, more importantly, they have connections to the Trump team, people like Cohen, Manafort and the family - Kushner and Donald Junior. The web is complicated, some even involving WikiLeaks, and some of the connections are indirect but there was a steady stream of communications between guys like this and the Trump inner team to manipulate the election. That, you cannot do. That violates a lot of U.S. laws.”
“Jules, if you were here, I would kiss you.
“Hey buddy, for stuff like this I expect a lot more than a kiss. But never mind. I sometimes forget that you are off limits. Damn, I am going to have to get laid one of these days. In any case, there is a long way to go, but still, you can sense the knots unravelling just a bit. It’s not all good stuff, though.” Her voice betrayed a hint of concern.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Well, nothing that I can put my finger on. Maybe I am just getting paranoid, but I sometimes worry that I am being followed, shadowed. I see a guy more than once, who seems to be where I am too often for coincidence, and I get paranoid. If you see them in the lobby at work, that is one thing. But then the coffee shop and the gym and jogging. It is not always obvious, so I am never certain.”
“Shit.” That was all that Chris could get out. “Damn, I feel so helpless here. What about Beverly? Has she noticed anything?”
“Well, she has mentioned becoming more nervous of late. She senses changes in your father, and she wonders if he has become more suspicious of her. He is, by instinct, susceptible to paranoia, as I guess we all are. Of course, in my instance it is justified. Well, maybe we are all getting hyper-sensitive. We are not cloak-and-dagger types. We know nothing about covert operations and shit like that.”