Chasing the Wind

by Norma Beishir

  “You are what you are. You cannot change that,” she said.

  “I don’t know how to be a prophet.”

  “Being a prophet is an act of obedience,” Rafaela explained. “The prophet’s role is to bring light into darkness, to speak the truth.”

  “Why me?”

  “Only God can answer that. He’s chosen you. He chose you before you were born.”

  “Have I been drafted, then?”

  She nodded. “In a sense, I suppose you have been,” she answered.

  “I can’t refuse?”

  “You can, of course,” Rafaela said as she looked around the cell, “but why would you want to?”

  I shook my head, still unable to accept it. “I can’t do this. I can’t even process it.”

  Rafaela stood up. “They’ll kill you. What purpose will that serve?”

  “If what my wife has told me is the truth,” I began, “no matter what I say to God, he’ll know if I’m not being honest.”

  “Yes, He will.”

  “I’m not there yet,” I confessed. “I want to be, but I’m not.”

  “Then tell Him that!” Rafaela urged him. “Down on your knees, confess your doubts! Allow Him to change your heart! Do it, Connor, and be free!”

  I went to my knees, but I didn’t know where to begin. “I’m not sure what I believe,” I started. “I find it hard to believe you could be real when my mother, who loved you and trusted you unconditionally was allowed to be killed for her faith. It’s hard for me to believe when my wife had to give birth as she did, putting her life and our son’s at risk. It’s hard for me to believe I could have some kind of special favor with you, given the life I’ve had….”

  The longer I prayed, all the anger and bitterness I’d carried with me all my life surged to the surface, a kaleidoscope of emotion that threatened to swallow me. In my mind, I was in that cold, dark, turbulent sea of my nightmares, swimming, struggling to stay above water, fighting the undertow…

  I saw the light on the boat. I could see Lynne, calling out to me. I could hear the baby crying…. Then I saw something else…a serpent, rising from the sea, headed for the boat…and I started to struggle against the current, trying to reach the boat before the serpent could attack it. I raised my arm, and found there was a sword in my hand. It was a huge, gleaming sword, and I drove it into the serpent. When I did, the serpent was swallowed up by the sea, which instantly calmed. The darkness turned to light, and I swam to the boat.

  When I opened my eyes, Rafaela was smiling. “Now what?” I asked.

  “Now the battle begins,” she told me.

  “Andrew.”

  I looked up as Sarah was let into the cell. “Why have they brought you here?” I asked.

  “I came here of my own free will.” She sat next to me on the bed. “Are you all right?” she asked, embracing me. “Have they hurt you?”

  “I’ll live. For now,” I told her. “How did you get access—”

  “I let Nicholas think I could persuade you to cooperate.”

  I shook my head emphatically.

  “He intends to kill you, Andrew.”

  I nodded. “I know.”

  “I’m not going to let that happen,” she said then.

  I couldn’t hide my surprise. “You can’t stop him, Sarah,” I said. “He’ll kill you as well.”

  “He allowed me to see you because he wants me to convince you to tell him where you’ve hidden your wife and child,” she continued. “I don’t know why he wants to know.”

  I remembered the prophecy. “I do,” I said, “but it’s not going to happen.”

  “I never intended to ask you to tell me anything,” Sarah said. “I came to tell you I’m going to get you out of here. It might take me a day or two, but if you’ll trust me, I’ll send you home to them.”

  “I can’t ask you to put yourself at risk for me.”

  She took my hands in hers. “You haven’t. But I’m going to do whatever I must to gain your freedom.”

  I could hear the guards outside my cell.

  “What the hell?”

  The closed-circuit camera in the cell was apparently malfunctioning and they were frantically attempting to adjust the equipment. The audio was out, while the video was distorted by static.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. It was working just fine an hour ago.”

  Divine intervention? I was starting to believe it.

  “Sarah, Dante’s holding some children here. He told me they’re in this section,” I said, seizing the opportunity.

  She nodded. “I know,” she said.

  “If and when I leave here, I have to take them with me,” I insisted.

  She was hesitant. “I don’t know if I can manage that,” she admitted.

  “You have to. We have to,” I said. “I owe it to these kids to get them out of here and back to their parents.”

  She looked uncertain. “I want to get you out before he kills you. I could send the authorities,” she suggested.

  I shook my head. “They’d be dead before all the warrants could be issued,” I told her. “We have to take them with us.”

  “Andrew. Andrew.”

  I heard Sarah's voice as she fumbled with the security lock on the door. I got to my feet. “How did you get past the security guards?”

  “There’s a major security breach in another section,” she told me in a low voice. “We don’t have much time. Ten minutes at best.”

  I suppressed a laugh. “I had no idea my wee sister was so devious. The children?” I asked then.

  “I’ve got the access codes for all of the cells.”

  The door finally opened. I rushed out and looked around. “Give me the codes. You go. Now.”

  She shook her head. “You’ll need my help if you’re to get out of here before they return,” she said.

  I hesitated, then nodded. “All right.”

  The two of us worked frantically to unlock all ten cells. Some of the children were reluctant to go with us. “It’s all right,” Sarah assured them. “We’re here to take you home.”

  Many of the children didn’t speak English, but the others dragged them along. They all followed Sarah and I down a long corridor normally used for deliveries, chattering among themselves. I knew they were frightened. I was as well. I knew what would happen if we were caught.

  I had helped design this facility. I’d been the one who demanded state-of-the-art security. I set the strict requirements for the manpower that patrolled the facility. I also knew where the chemicals were stored, and there was a storage room on the route we were taking. “Keep them moving,” I told Sarah. “I’ll catch up.”

  “No,” she protested. “We can’t go without you.”

  “You won’t be,” I told her. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  I went into the storeroom and found what I was looking for—a canister of benzene. If they caught us, this would slow them down a bit. Combustible, highly toxic. Deadly.

  I ran down the corridor, catching up to the group. “That way, Sarah!” I called out to her.

  Sarah directed the group toward the rear exit, with me silently praying we’d make it. I knew Dante well enough now to know that he would never allow any of us to leave there alive.

  I could see the service exit a few hundred feet ahead. We’re going to make it, I thought, stepping up my pace.

  “Andrew—don’t do anything foolish!”

  Dante was behind us with at least a dozen armed men. “Stop now and I won’t kill them.”

  I turned. “Who do you think you’re kidding, Nicholas?” I demanded loudly. “You never intended to let any of us survive.”

  “Don’t move!” one of the guards called out.

  I stopped in my tracks. “Nicholas—do you know what this is?” I asked in a loud voice.

  Dante’s eyes fixed on the canister. “Don’t be stupid, Andrew,” he said.

  “We’re leaving,” I shouted. “Make yo
ur goons stand down, or I’ll open it.”

  “It’s combustible,” Dante warned.

  “We’re leaving,” I said again. “Try to stop us, and I’ll bring this place down.”

  “With all of you inside?” Dante wasn’t convinced.

  “If necessary.”

  One of the guards raised his gun. Sarah, seeing he was aiming at me, rushed forward. “No!” she screamed.

  Startled, the guard fired, his bullet hitting Sarah. She let out a cry and fell to the floor. I threw the canister as a second shot was fired. The bullet hit it, igniting the chemicals. It started a chain reaction, all the chemicals in the storeroom exploding. Flames immediately engulfed the corridor, blocking Dante and his guards from pursuit. “Keep running!” I yelled to the children. I scooped Sarah up in my arms and carried her out of the building to safety as the complex exploded.

  “Go,” Sarah whispered as I placed her on the lawn, kneeling beside her. “I’m going to slow you down.”

  “I’m not leaving without you,” I said softly. The children had stopped and were gathered around us, looking on expectantly.

  “You can’t help me.” Blood from a chest wound soaked the front of her silk blouse. “Go, back to your wife and son.”

  I hesitated, remembering…my mother’s wrists bloody, my tears falling on them…Lynne’s shoulder, one moment covered by a dark, ugly bruise, the next without a trace of it…the bird, dead in the box, then flying away. I placed my hand on my sister’s wound and closed my eyes. Please don’t deny me now. Please save her. Please….

  Sarah’s eyes opened. She gave a sharp gasp. “I was dying. I could feel it,” she whispered.

  Thank you, Father.

  “You’re going to be fine, I promise you,” I told her, pushing her hair back off her face. “We’ve got to get out of here now, so if you still feel weak, I’m going to carry you.”

  “I think I can stand.”

  I helped her up and put an arm around her, supporting her as her strength returned. We made our way to the rear security gates, opened now as the fire department arrived on the scene.

  I looked back once as we made our escape. The entire complex was in flames. You’re all going back to Hell, where you belong, I thought.

  No one could have survived that….

  The cemetery was deserted. I walked alone among the gravestones. A blue hooded jacket concealed my face as I made my way to two graves marked by a large marble gravestone topped with a sculpture of an angel. The angel looked heavenward; arms outstretched. A dove perched on one hand.

  I knelt at my mother’s grave and placed a single pink rose on the earth. “You were right, Mum,” I said softly. “You knew.”

  “I thought I’d find you here.”

  I looked up. Sarah stood there, smiling down at me. “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “As if I’d never been shot,” she said. “So you’re the real deal, are you?”

  “So it would seem.”

  “Our mother was not insane, then.”

  “No.” I reached up and took her hand. “Thank you for taking in the kids.”

  “I certainly have the room now,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want the house?”

  I made a face. “That mausoleum? My wife would never go for it.”

  “Have you talked to her yet?” Sarah asked.

  “I haven’t been able to reach her,” I said. “Dante had my phone when she last called. That may be why she’s not picking up. I’m going home as soon as I can. At least I’ll surprise her.”

  “I’ll call Nigel and have the corporate jet ready to take you whenever you’re ready to go.”

  “I appreciate it,” I told her. “It’s not over, you know. You will have to leave London and join us in exile.”

  “Nicholas is dead. There’s no more threat.”

  I shook my head. “Edward told me this is a global conspiracy,” I recalled. “He said their people were everywhere. The cartel has interests in banks, universities, a wide range of businesses. They also had a good many politicians in their pockets. I have to bring them down. All of them.”

  She was silent for a moment. “What do we do, Andrew?” she finally asked.

  “Andrew is dead.”

  She gave me a puzzled look.

  “I am no longer Andrew Stewart. The prophet has been reborn, I’m told,” I said. “I am now and forever Connor Mackenzie.”

  “That will take a bit of getting used to,” she told me. “What about Icarus?”

  “I’ve no interest in running it,” I answered honestly.

  “Neither do I,” she said. “What shall we do about that?”

  “You’ll think of something, I’m sure.”

  “Me?”

  “I’m not staying, remember?”

  “So you aren’t.” She gave a heavy sigh. “You never stay anywhere for long, do you?”

  “Wrong.” I grinned. “When I get back to New Zealand, I just might stay there forever.”

  89

  Lynne

  The news of the explosion at GenTech forced me to face a reality I’d subconsciously denied since the day he disappeared in London: Connor was dead. He was never coming back. Up until that moment, I’d hung onto that slim thread of hope that he was alive somewhere—but now I knew he could not have survived. If he were alive, he would have come back, now that Dante and his associates were dead.

  His sister Sarah and the children escaped the fire that killed Dante. There had been no mention in any of the news reports of Connor.

  I wonder if he knew he accomplished what he set out to do? I blinked back a tear as I viewed online footage of the missing children being reunited with their families. I wish our family could have been reunited.

  I wasn’t sure when I’d made the decision to leave. I’d been restless for months, living in isolation, not knowing if my husband was dead or alive, not having any human contact other than my son, Gabriel and Rafaela. Now, I could no longer bear to stay there in exile without my husband, without hope that he would return to us.

  If he were alive, he would have come home by now, I thought. No way would he stay away.

  I remembered that day I’d tried to get him on his cell phone….

  “Hello, Mrs. Mackenzie. I’ve been waiting for your call.”

  I had never heard Nicholas Dante’s voice before, yet I knew instinctively who was speaking. That night, I’d thrown that cell phone, the last of the prepaid phones we’d purchased, into the lake.

  A part of me did want to stay here. This was my home, the home Connor and I had shared. This was the place where our son was born. In spite of the circumstances that brought us here, we’d made it a real home.

  Connor wanted us to stay, I thought. He wanted us to be safe. But it’s over now.

  Kiwi needs to be around other children. His cousins. He needs a normal childhood, if he can ever have anything remotely resembling normal.

  I sorted through all of the fake IDs and passports Connor had obtained for us in Rome. There were some we hadn’t used. I could play it safe for now, use one of those. Just in case.

  But what do I do about Kiwi? He doesn’t have a passport.

  I can go to the US embassy here. He’s an American citizen by birth. I can get him a passport.

  He doesn’t have a birth certificate.

  “Is there a problem?”

  I looked up. Rafaela was standing in the doorway, carrying a tray. “Is it lunchtime already?” I asked.

  Rafaela nodded. “You’ve been preoccupied,” she observed. “Is there a problem?”

  “My son doesn’t have a birth certificate,” I said. “How do I get him a passport without a birth certificate?”

  “Why do you need a passport?” Rafaela placed the tray on the table.

  “I have to go home,” I said.

  “This is your home, is it not?”

  I nodded. “This will always be our home,” I said. “But my husband’s gone and I have family back in the St
ates.”

  “Do you think it wise to leave?” Rafaela asked.

  I wasn’t sure. “Connor’s dead. I need to start living again, at least as best I can without him,” I said.

  “Then perhaps the answer you seek is in his files,” Rafaela suggested, nodding toward the computer on the table.

  I nodded. “It’s worth a shot.” I logged on and found a file Connor had encrypted. The file was labeled Kiwi.

  In it, I found six birth certificates. “Date of birth, June 22. Male, eight pounds, two ounces. Length, twenty-one and one-quarter inches. Name, Daniel Ewan Mackenzie. Father, Connor Ewan Mackenzie. Mother, Lynne-Marie Raven Mackenzie,” I read aloud. The other birth records were identical in statistics. Only the names were different.

  “How did he do this?” I wondered aloud.

  “He planned for all possibilities, did he not?” Rafaela asked.

  “Always, but—”

  “Does God not always provide?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “God be with you if you must do this,” Rafaela said resolutely.

  I looked out the window as the 747 began its descent to Lambert-St. Louis International Airport. How long had it been since I’d been home? I couldn’t remember. I secured Kiwi in his seat. “It’s all right, honey,” I told him. “We’ll be there soon.”

  “Daddy's coming.”

  “No, Daddy’s not there. I wish he were,” I said, kissing the top of his head.

  I wondered what the future held for us. I could return to fieldwork. Tim and Isabella had assembled a new team and returned to the Middle East. I could go back there, too. Or could I?

  I can’t go back. Nothing’s ever going to be the same again. I’m never going to be the same again.

  90

  Connor

  As the plane taxied down the runway and lifted off, I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. I couldn’t wait to get back to Lynne and our son. I imagined the look on her face when I arrived, and it made me smile.