Liberation Song

by Raelee May Carpenter

  “So you’re the smart one now?”

  “Keep your shoulders straight; you look like a mouse.”

  “You are such a nerd, my girl.”

  “You better watch out. You’re too smart for your own good.”

  He liked to talk about how smart she thought she was. He also liked to talk about, of all things, this day, his funeral. Aili wasn’t sure if that was normal or healthy, but he used to describe his “laying to rest,” his graveside service, in great detail, like he was there watching it or something weird like that.

  “It will be a dark, dark day in Boston,” he would say. He talked about all his brave colleagues, lined up in rows. A column of “the City’s finest,” stone faces that twitched under the weight of unexpressed emotion. They wore slickers over their dress uniforms and had those clear, plastic bonnets protecting their best hats from the rain. All the ladies shivered in their long, dark coats and held black umbrellas.

  One day, when she was about sixteen, all of the drama became just a little too much for Aili. She burst out laughing and said, with more than a little spite in her tone, “Can’t you hear yourself? I wish you could. This is the stupidest thing on earth to discuss. You know, things don’t always turn out exactly like you plan. Especially when you’re dead and don’t have a say anymore.”

  Her father slapped her across the face then left the room, slamming the door behind him. Now, more than ten years later, her cheek still smarted when she remembered it. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel about that either.

  “Feelings are neutral,” her psychology textbooks said. “They are neither moral nor immoral. They simply are. It is the actions that people take based on their emotions that may be unhealthy, either physically, psychologically, or both.”

  Yeah, right, okay.

  Because the feelings Aili was having when she thought about how her father’s funeral actually had turned out… Well, those feelings were something entirely unholy, and she knew it.

  Because there wasn’t a cloud in the sky today. It was sunny as could be, and that was something rare indeed for early April. And she wasn’t sure who he thought all those depressingly dressed, female mourners would be. Because there wasn’t anybody here but a dozen or so scattered men in blue, all looking bored, and Aili, who almost burst out laughing whenever she looked at them.

  She chewed on her bottom lip and watched the casket slip down into the hole. The priest nodded at her. She stood from the solitary chair, grabbed a handful of soil—still damp from yesterday’s rain—off the pile on the green mat, and made her way to edge of the grave. She peered down into the ditch and imagined herself eye to eye with the empty corpse that reposed inside of it.

  Who’s the smart one now?

  “Ashes to ashes; dust to dust.”

  Splat.

  The dirt landed just where she knew his face would be.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Agent White showed up in the morning with half a dozen unassembled storage boxes from The Home Depot tucked under her arm. “It’s time to move,” the handler said as she dropped the boxes at Alex’s feet.

  That was all. And she was less than forthcoming when Alex asked for more information.

  “Are we in danger here?” Alex asked.

  Agent White shrugged. “There have been some developments in the case, and it’s time to relocate you and Aglaya.”

  Alex popped her knuckles. “Where are we going?”

  “Pack everything here that you want to take. You won’t be back, and everything you leave will become property of the Bureau.”

  “What kind of climate should we be packing for?”

  “A lot like this one, I guess.”

  Alex held out her hands, palms up. “Is it a rural, suburban, or urban area?”

  “Does it matter? Just pack your crap. I don’t have until next year.”

  What is wrong with this woman? Maybe she was just tired of Alex and Aggie after four and a half boring years handling them. Alex, for sure, was pretty sick of her too. Maybe it was just the mutual annoyance of too much estrogen in a small space for too long.

  When Alex stood staring the agent in the eyes, not packing, not even moving, Agent White threw up her hands. “Or leave everything. Whatever. The Los Angeles field office will be happy next time they have an auction. They might get a few bills from your laptop and your daughter’s Kindle. Not to mention the jewelry from Matthew Gold. I mean, wow!”

  “What a rude thing to say! Why are you being such an itch with a capital B?”

  Agent White rolled her eyes. “Whatever you decide, we’re moving out in ninety minutes.”

  The whole thing ticked Alex off a little bit. Okay, actually, a lot. These fibbies liked to talk it up that they didn’t consider her a civilian, but they were hijacking her entire life again, and this time they were doing it without telling her a single thing.

  But what could she do? She had to pack. Most of the things she’d taken from the house (home) on Orange Grove Avenue had been their memories and the practical things they couldn’t live without. Not knowing where they were going or what would be available to them when they arrived, Alex couldn’t afford to leave stuff behind just to make a political statement on how poorly the FBI handled her relocation.

  She was a mom now, after all. And at this moment, she needed to put her daughter’s well-being before her feelings of offense. So after giving Agent White one more dirty look, she snatched the boxes off the floor and went to her daughter’s bedroom.

  Alex tried to make the whole thing fun for Aglaya so she wouldn’t be scared. Aggie slam-dunked her Fluppy Puppy into the box marked “TOYS” in purple Sharpie pen, and they played their new favorite game: Where Are They Taking Us?

  Alex wadded one of Aggie’s dresses (from the Sunset Coast Department Store, whaddayaknow?) so she could make a three-point shot. She made herself sound excited. “Maybe to Hawaii.”

  “Maybe Disneyland!” Aggie wished as she gathered her fluorescent Mega Blocks in their carry-all.

  Alex giggled. “Or New York City.”

  “Maybe the moon.”

  “Maybe Devonshire, with Uncle Benedict,” Alex suggested. She raised her eyebrows and puckered her lips to the side.

  Aggie smiled and started to nod, but then her face brightened like the sun, and she grinned wide.

  Alex stopped folding the miniature pair of butterfly-embellished jeans. “What? What’s your idea?”

  “I know where we’re going, Mama. I figured it out! I just know it.” Aggie hopped up and down and clapped her hands.

  Alex laughed at her little girl’s excitement. “Okay, then. Where?”

  “Home!”

  Alex knew right away that Aglaya meant Orange Grove Avenue. Suddenly the game wasn’t fun anymore. “Honey, we had to leave there, remember? It’s not safe. We can’t go back.”

  “But it’s different now. It’s where we going! I know it!”

  Alex gazed seriously at her daughter and shook her head. “No, honey. It’s not.”

  Aggie slouched her shoulders, and her jaw went slack. “You don’t know. You said you didn’t.”

  “Not there. We can’t.”

  “If you don’t know, why would you say it’s not there? You said it could be anywhere.”

  “Honey, I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

  “What’s wrong with hopes, Mama? Hopes are good, and we should never lose them. That’s what Mattie always said.”

  Alex’s stomach tied itself in tighter and tighter knots. She didn’t know what to say.

  * * *

  When their ninety minutes were up, Agent White and a black-suited man loaded the boxes into the back of a white, unmarked panel van. Alex and Aggie sat together on the bench seat behind Agent White and the stiffly dressed driver who never introduced himself. There was no booster seat for Aggie, but Alex didn’t feel the mood was right to bring that up. The two girls had no windows on their sides and had only limited views out of t
he van by peering between the front seats through the windshield or over their shoulders out the small, square window in the back. Both contortions were uncomfortable, and soon they just settled down together, playing “Name that Tune” while they rode along several hours, stopping only once for gasoline and a snack.

  Still, after several hours had passed, Alex began to recognize things here and there whenever she peeked outside. Her hands went clammy while her heart stewed a confusing mix of thoughts and emotions.

  When the van turned onto Orange Grove Avenue, her body was split between the decision to laugh and the choice to vomit. When they pulled into the driveway (home), Aggie was bouncing in her seat. The little girl took off into the front yard as soon as the driver opened the door.

  Alex disembarked shakily. “What are we doing here? Are we safe?”

  “Please join me inside,” Agent White responded.

  Alex didn’t know what to think. Either this woman had brought them here to kill them… or… or…

  It was over.

  She followed her handler into the house and sat with her on the couch in the living room. Agent White set a briefcase on the coffee table, opened it, took out a folder, and removed a document from that.

  Agent White said, “We have a few things to take care of here. In order to do that, I must read you a brief issued early this morning by the Director’s office.”

  Still confused, Alex nodded.

  Agent White began to read. “‘Yesterday afternoon, Mr. Edward Tokan signed a full confession admitting guilt to many counts of kidnapping, human trafficking, obstruction of justice, homicide, etc., that were committed or carried out within the borders of the United States. The minimum sentences for his crimes add up to more than five hundred years, and he is expected to be incarcerated in Federal custody for the rest of his natural life. It is believed this offer was accepted that the criminal avoid the extradition requests of Russia and other countries where the prisons are considered less habitable than our own. At this conclusion, the case that the Bureau has been working against Mr. Edward Tokan is considered closed.’”

  “Well, that’s good. And quicker than we expected.” Her mind reeled, not sure how to process everything that happened.

  The handler continued reading the brief. “‘To finalize the case, the Bureau must make note of the following issues regarding the minor child Aglaya Myshkin and her guardian Aili MacIntire, an agent for the Bureau.

  “‘A large amount of Tokan’s assets have been confiscated for restitution, and the estate of Katya Kostaskaya is estimated to receive a portion of about $450,000, half to go to her mother, Tatiana Kostaskaya, and half to a trust for her daughter Aglaya Myshkin, to be managed by her legal guardian. Ms. MacIntire will be contacted by the assigned victims’ rights organization when the settlement is finalized.

  “‘Also, pending Edward Tokan’s sentencing hearing, the minor Aglaya Anya Kostaskaya Myshkin will be freed from her legal status as Refugee Seeking Political Asylum and will no longer be considered a ward of the U.S. Government. At that time, she will be made a ward of the State of California, and Los Angeles DHS will be contacting her guardian Aili MacIntire, concerning the possibility of adoption proceedings. Letters of reference have been forwarded to L.A. DHS from the Director of the Bureau, Benedict Beck of Interpol, and the minor’s maternal grandmother.’”

  Next, Agent White removed from the folder an official-looking document with the FBI seal at the top and set it on the coffee table in front of Aili, putting x’s by a few blanks near the bottom and leaving her ink pen lying on top of the sheet. Then she continued, “‘Regarding Agent Aili MacIntire’s employment with the FBI, the Bureau, considering Ms. MacIntire’s status as the sole guardian of a minor, is seeking to terminate Ms. MacIntire’s employment contract as a field operative. An early retirement settlement is being offered that includes a year’s worth of severance pay and an FBI pension appropriate to her fifteen years of exemplary service—’”

  “It’s only been about ten years,” Alex interrupted then. “And less than exemplary.”

  “Sorry, my paperwork says fifteen. You can attempt to correct that, of course, but I must warn you that the rectification of government clerical errors is not a pretty process. May I continue?”

  Alex shrugged, nodded, and filled out the document while Agent White continued reading the brief. “‘Should Retired Agent Aili MacIntire wish to seek independent contract employment with the Bureau as a Consulting Analyst, she should contact the Director of the L.A. field office.’” Agent White then handed Alex an FBI business card with the aforementioned woman’s name and contact information, then she continued, “‘Reference letters have been forwarded to the field office from Interpol Agent Benedict Beck and the Director of the Bureau.’”

  Next, Agent White put Alex’s retirement contract back in the folder and took out of it several legal documents, fanning them across the coffee table in front of Alex. She read, “‘The Bureau has decided to dispose of the Orange Grove Drive residence at auction. To avoid the cost of listing and selling the property, however, the Bureau has chosen to offer the property to Ms. MacIntire at the price of one dollar and zero cents.’”

  Alex stared at Agent White a full minute, before the woman finally said, “You can sign these documents and return them at your convenience. The remittance address is at the bottom of the Sales Agreement. Don’t forget to include your payment, or the sale will not be legal.”

  Then Agent White put the brief back into the folder and took an envelope out of it. She said, “And finally, this is a gift from Benedict Beck, and the rest of your Shangku Interpol Operations team.”

  “What is it?” Alex stared at the document without opening it.

  “Two open-ended plane tickets to Moscow and a voucher for a week’s stay for six at the Ambassador Hotel downtown.”

  “Six?”

  “Well, apparently the apartment where Tatiana Kostaskaya lives with her mother-in-law and two remaining children is rather small, and the team thought…Well, as you can see.”

  Alex could see a bit of glistening shine in Agent White’s eyes and hers, too, filled with tears. “I’m guessing you pitched in a little on this too. Probably a lot, actually, and now I feel guilty that I treated you so badly today.”

  “It’s okay. I was rather curt, but I was concerned I’d ruin the surprise.”

  “You know, Agent, I never really thought much past the end of this assignment. I never thought we’d survive, but when we did, and I was sitting in that remote safe house, I didn’t know what I’d do when we got out. When I was an analyst, I worked eighty or ninety hours every week and had no personal life. How would I go back to that and still be here for Aggie? And if I didn’t, how would I feed and dress her and send her to college? Mom and FBI analyst are the only jobs I know how to do. I never needed to be rich, you know, but how…? I’m digressing though. With all of this, if I’m careful—”

  “And you’re nothing if you’re not careful, Ms. MacIntire.”

  Alex smiled, laughed a bit, just a bit. “I’ll be able to take care of my daughter.”

  “Well, that’s what we want.”

  “And they’re retiring me as an agent? An agent, not an analyst.” That was a big vote of confidence for Aili MacIntire, who almost no one had ever believed in.

  “You’ve earned it. You did a good job undercover with this child. I dare say you’ve gone native, but in this case it worked.”

  “Thank you, Agent White. You’ve been good to us, really. I know Aggie and I weren’t the most exciting assignment you could have been given, but you performed admirably.”

  Agent White shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was tight with shielded emotion. “Quite the contrary, Ms. MacIntire, this has been the best and most important assignment that I have ever had. And will ever have, I do believe.”

  Alex hauled off and hugged the woman. She didn’t know what else she could do. When she let go, White smiled a bit awkwardly a
nd nodded. “Anyway, it’s been a long day. A long several weeks, actually. You should take some time with your daughter to settle in.”

  She gathered her things and let herself out while Alex stayed on the couch, trying to comprehend everything she had been given. After a while, Aggie returned to the living room from saying hello to all the views of the house and backyard that she had missed while they were gone. She climbed into Aili’s lap and said, “See, Mama. Home. Hopes are good, aren’t they?”

  Alex cuddled her daughter tight, breathing in the scent of strawberry shampoo, peanut butter, and salty sweat. She asked, “How did you know we’d be coming back here, sweetheart?”

  Aggie shrugged. “Sometimes I just do, Mom.” She sounded so grown up for her not-quite five and three-quarter years of age. “Sometimes I know these things because I just see them.”

  Katya’s father, Nikolai, said, “Look, it says right here that this bird’s habitat has been disappearing, and now it only lives wild in certain sections of the jungle in northern Shangku. Can you imagine if that sorry place was the only area you could survive?”

  “Why, Daddy?” three-year-old Tanya asked.

  “Nikolai!” her mother reproached, with a bit of shocked laughter. “Not in front of the children!”

  Her father looked abashed. “Sorry, honey. I will keep my commentary on world politics to myself.”

  Nikolai Kostasky walked over to his wife and gave her a big kiss.

  Nine-year-old Katya blushed, giggled, and looked away from her parents. She gazed at the birds her father had been reading about. Small, with fluffy heads and sweet faces, covered in splashes of bright blue, purple, and green. “They are cute, though,” she said.

  Her mother, giggling and blushing herself, pulled away from Kati’s father and joined her daughter at the edge of the enclosure. She watched the birds with a smile. “They are lovely, aren’t they?”

  One bird preened another, and Katya and her mom grinned at each other. Kati’s mom put an arm around her daughter and leaned her head down on Kati’s. Katya snuggled close. Behind them, Nikolai took a picture. Kati and Tatiana turned around laughing.