Saving Sophie: A Novel

by Ronald H. Balson

  “No, I won’t.”

  “Thank you.”

  She scooted her chair close to the bed and reached for his hand. “I want you to get better so we can go climbing mountains in our sandals.”

  Jack reacted with a short chuckle and grimaced from a sharp pain. “Where are Taggart and the State Department woman?”

  “Oh, they’re still around. I’m sure they’ll come over today.”

  “What day is it?”

  “April eighth.”

  “Wow. I’ve been asleep for three days.”

  The nurse came into the room with her monitoring equipment, and Marcy stepped out. When she returned, they had raised Jack’s bed to a sitting position. He was sipping from a styrofoam cup. “The nurse told me that the doctor decided to take me off sedation. And he wants me to try to practice getting in and out of a wheelchair.”

  Marcy pursed her lips. “I know. That was Kayla’s idea. I have to warn you, Kayla intends to fly you to Israel as soon as she can arrange it.”

  “That’s good. I need to get to Sophie.”

  Marcy shook her head. “The doctor doesn’t think so and neither do I. You had serious injuries and you lost a lot of blood. Don’t go yet. Just tell them you need a little more time.”

  “I can’t. If I don’t cooperate, I won’t get any consideration from the court.”

  “That’s right,” Kayla said, walking into the room, carrying a large purse and a newspaper. “I’m glad you understand.”

  Liam followed her in.

  “I’m fine, thank you for asking,” Jack said.

  “Sorry,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Shitty.”

  Kayla looked at his chart. “You’re improving.”

  “Since when are you a doctor?” Jack said. “I hear you want me to go to Hebron right away.”

  “I’m afraid I do.”

  “When?”

  Kayla pulled up a chair. “Soon. We’re waiting to hear that the arrangements have been made to exchange the money. It could be as soon as tomorrow.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Marcy said. “Are you trying to kill him?”

  “Don’t, Marcy. I need to go when they want me to.”

  “But you can’t even get out of bed.”

  Jack shrugged. “The doctors told me they want me to sit in a wheelchair.”

  “If you’re going, I’m going with you,” Marcy said.

  Kayla shook her head. “She can’t go with us, Jack. It’s a dangerous mission.”

  “He needs my help.”

  “Talk to her,” Kayla said to Jack. “She doesn’t belong over there.”

  “She’s right, Marcy. I need to do this myself.”

  “I can help with Sophie. I’m her aunt Marcy.” Tears rolled out of her eyes and her jaw quivered. “Jack, look at you. You can barely sit up. Don’t shut me out of this, please.”

  He shrugged. “Can she go part of the way, Kayla, as long as she stays out of danger? I’m not exactly marathon ready. Are you going to nursemaid me?”

  Kayla paced by the foot of the bed. “It’s a bad idea. It’s a dangerous intelligence op. There’s just no room for you, Marcy. I’m sorry.”

  Liam held up a hand. “Maybe we can work this out. Why don’t we let Marcy go part of the way, maybe to Tel Aviv. What harm can that do?”

  Kayla thought for a moment and walked to the bedside. “All right, here’s the deal. If you’ll make the effort, do whatever you can to get yourself ready, even if we have to leave in a day or two, I’ll let Marcy go as far as Tel Aviv. Not all the way to Hebron.”

  “Deal.” Jack held Marcy’s hand. “Now, if you two wouldn’t mind giving us a few minutes alone, there’s nothing that needs to be done right now.”

  “Sure.” Kayla handed the Honolulu newspaper to Jack. “There’s something I want you to see first.” The newspaper was folded back to a story on page twelve entitled, “Suspect Killed in Prison Rumble.”

  While Sommers read the story, Kayla said, “We thought it better to run a story that you died in a knife fight. They haven’t caught up with the two men in the Cadillac. The man who stabbed you, a Russian national on an expired student visa, isn’t talking. His lawyer and two other inmates swear that he acted in self-defense. So, officially, Eugene Wilson is dead.”

  “Well, that’s the second time he’s died.” Jack put the paper down. “It’s freaky to read your own obituary.”

  Kayla nodded. “I didn’t want either of you to be surprised. I’ll leave you two alone.”

  Kayla and Liam left and shut the door behind them. In the hallway, Kayla said, “Thanks for your help in there. And I think you’re right. Marcy will be a calming influence until we have to go into Hebron.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “So, Catherine’s coming in this afternoon? Are you going shopping?”

  “You’re being a little pushy, aren’t you?”

  Kayla smiled. “I just don’t want to get to Hebron and have my partner all worried about his love life.”

  “God, you are a tough woman.”

  She shrugged.

  When Kayla and Liam had left, Jack beckoned Marcy to sit down. “I know what you’ve been thinking, that everything is going to work out for the two of us, but the odds are stacked against us. Kayla’s right about the dangers. The Palestinians don’t want to exchange Sophie, they just want to see if they can make a quick score. They’ll try to kill me and take the money. I’ve already been stabbed in the back by a Russian, probably Dmitri’s man. And even if the exchange all worked out and I came back alive, it’s likely I’ll spend the next ten or twenty years in prison. I want us to be together as much as you do, but we need to look at the realities.”

  “Gosh, Jack, I never considered any of that.”

  “What’s wrong with you that you’re planning a future, a house and children, with a man who has no future?”

  Marcy stood with her hands on her hips. “You sneak. You eavesdropped on me. You were pretending to be asleep.”

  “Pretending?”

  She smiled and pointed her finger. “Well, I’m just not going to accept a dead end. I’m going with you and I’m bringing you and Sophie back, and somehow this will work out.”

  * * *

  CATHERINE’S PLANE WAS DELAYED for over four hours. She finally landed at Honolulu International at 7:30 P.M., thirteen hours after she took off from Chicago. Her watch, still on central daylight time, read 11:30 P.M. The reunion with Liam at the baggage carousel was joyous and emotional. “I feel like it’s been a year since we’ve seen each other,” she said, with her arms around his neck.

  “I’m so glad you decided to fly out. Why did you change your mind?”

  “I heard something in your voice that I didn’t like. I just figured we had some talking to do.”

  “Did Kayla call you?”

  “What? What’s Kayla got to do with this?”

  “Nothing. Just … never mind.”

  “Is there something going on here, Liam?”

  “No. Absolutely not. Kayla picked up on the fact that there was some tension between us, that’s all. Please don’t stress out about Kayla. She is strictly business. Okay?”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry if I worried you on the phone. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving! I refuse to buy that airplane food.”

  “There’s a great outdoor grill at our hotel.” Liam gave her a squeeze, grabbed her suitcase, and led her out the door. “It’s so good to see you.”

  Liam and Catherine sat at the Moana Surfrider’s grill studying the dinner menus. Behind them, waves broke loudly on the shore, and above them birds squawked in the palm trees. Ambient noise, loud enough to strain conversation. To Catherine Liam seemed to be more nervous than usual.

  “Is something wrong?” Catherine said.

  Liam shook his head, but he was obviously about to say something. He leaned forward and cleared his throat.

  “You o
kay?” Catherine said.

  He reached across the table and covered Catherine’s hand gently with his own. He looked into her eyes, took a deep breath and cleared his throat again. “Catherine, you know I love you and there’s no other person in my life. I have something I want to ask you.”

  Just then, a familiar voice interrupted them. “Hello there, you two.”

  Catherine responded flatly, “Hello, Kayla.”

  “May I?” She pulled a chair over to join them. “So, you got a text from Abu Hammad?”

  Liam sighed and nodded. He passed his phone across the table to Kayla, who read the message: I have spoken to Arif. I have his terms. Please call me at 10 A.M., my time.

  Kayla looked at her watch. “That’s in forty-five minutes.” She motioned to the waiter and ordered a glass of chardonnay. “I saw Sommers again. He looks pretty good. They want him to try sitting in a wheelchair.”

  Liam shook his head. “So you can roll him down the streets of Hebron? Is that your version of dead man walking?”

  “Very funny. The doctor says he can fly out there, take his wheelchair with him, he’ll be fine.”

  “Fine? He can barely move.”

  “I need your help here, Liam.”

  “And if he’s not ready? I would think the last thing you want is a relapse.”

  Kayla looked at her watch and spoke quietly. “Today is the eighth. Yom Ha’atzmaut, the target date, is little more than a week away. We can’t waste a minute. It takes almost a full day to travel. The exchange must be scheduled at the earliest possible time. We have to push Sommers’s recovery.”

  “And if he can’t make it?”

  Kayla bit her lip and took a healthy drink of wine. “He has to make it.”

  At ten o’clock, Liam placed the call from his hotel room.

  “Hello, my friend,” Abu Hammad said. “How are things in Chicago?”

  “Cold and windy, as usual. And in Jerusalem?”

  “My shop is very comfortable.”

  “I’m surprised you spoke directly to Arif.”

  “I am also surprised. I was speaking with Fakhir, but when it came down to the details of exchanging money, Arif called me.”

  “I thought the two of you didn’t speak.”

  “We did not. We still do not. The conversation was mechanical, devoid of cordiality. Nevertheless, he communicated his terms and hung up.”

  “I see. I apologize for putting you in such an awkward position.”

  “You did not put me. I put myself.”

  “I thank you for that.”

  “His terms are simple. The father, John Sommers, is to come alone to a bakery in Hebron. On April twenty-fifth. He is to bring five million dollars in U.S. currency or the equivalent amount in euros. Nonconsecutive bills. Following delivery and examination of the money, the child will be brought to the bakery and Sommers may leave with her.”

  “One moment, please, Jamal.” Liam put the call on mute and explained the terms to Kayla.

  “No way. It has to be before the sixteenth. Try for the twelfth. And not at the bakery. A straight exchange at al-Zahani’s. In his home. We need to get inside those walls.”

  Liam nodded. “Jamal, my friend, we need to modify those terms a little. Would it be possible for you to communicate our desires back to Arif?”

  “I can talk to Fakhir. He will tell Arif to call me. What changes would you have to his terms?”

  “First, Mr. Sommers has had an unfortunate accident. He has been seriously injured and is recovering from surgery. He cannot walk. He’s in a wheelchair and requires assistance. I will accompany him along with his nurse. As to the exchange, he wants a direct swap—money for Sophie. Same place. Simultaneously. No Sophie, no money. And he does not want it at a public location, both for Sophie’s well-being and his own. Mr. Sommers will meet al-Zahani at the doctor’s home, where he will take possession of the child and her things.

  “And, Jamal, please tell him, this is most important: I’m going to pack the briefcase for Mr. Sommers. It’ll have five million dollars in it, but it will also have an explosive device. If some guy grabs the case and tries to open it without the correct combination, the case will explode and the contents will be destroyed, not to mention the guy who tries to open it. It’s not that I don’t trust the good doctor, but it may just discourage one of his friends from trying to finance an early retirement. Only Mr. Sommers can open the briefcase. Make sure Arif understands this.

  “Finally, my friend, Mr. Sommers is most anxious to recover his daughter, the sooner the better. He has the money in his possession and would like to make the exchange in four days. We will make arrangements to be at Arif’s home on April twelfth. Jamal, we are indebted to you for interceding on our behalf. I’m sure that Mr. Sommers will express great interest in Middle Eastern antiquities.”

  Abu Hammad laughed. “Antiquities, for certain. I do not seek profit from my assistance, but if Mr. Sommers should find his way to my shop, I will gladly show him a few precious items.”

  “You are a good friend, Jamal.”

  “I understand. I will make sure Arif receives your terms. Good-bye, my friend.”

  Liam hung up and nodded at Kayla.

  “I need a moment with Liam,” Kayla said to Catherine, and she took him out into the hallway.

  “So now we wait again,” Kayla said to Liam quietly. “What if Arif doesn’t respond? I don’t want the IDF storming the compound. Abu Hammad’s got to get us in.”

  “Five million dollars? He’ll respond. We’ll get in, but I want to make sure we get out. How much support has the Agency devoted to this operation? Men and matériel?”

  Kayla shrugged. “I don’t know for certain. That’s not under my control.”

  “Well, we need an operations expert to manage this ruse de guerre. You and I are not equipped.”

  “I’m sure we’ll get all the help we need. Don’t worry.”

  “Don’t worry? Do you remember when we sat around Jenkins and Fairchild’s conference table, weeks ago? ‘We need you to make the exchange, Liam.’ ‘We want you to be the go-between.’ Do you remember that?”

  “Of course.”

  “Skillfully omitted from that conversation was the part where good ol’ Liam was informed that there was an imminent terrorist strike and that good ol’ Liam was expected to walk into a firing squad.”

  “I told you al-Zahani was a terrorist. I told you the beehive was active.”

  “And Harry told me it was theoretical, that he hadn’t committed any assets to the project. Kayla, we cannot do this without proper support. We need to know where his guards are stationed and how they’re armed. We’d need aerial surveillance, and not just satellite. Like a couple of those hummingbird drones. And backup. Lots of backup.”

  She nodded. “I’m sure it’s all arranged.”

  “If we go into Hebron with Sommers, carrying a suitcase full of money, we’re targets the moment that suitcase’s opened. Assuming that al-Zahani buys the gambit and grants admittance to his compound, we’ll need a unit to take out the guards on the outer perimeter. Once the guards are down, and while we’re inside, we’ll need a unit to break into his weapons plant and secure the workers and whatever he’s manufacturing. As to persuading al-Zahani to give up the information about the terrorist operation, I leave that entirely up to you and your interrogators. But Sophie, Jack, and I will need safe transportation out of Hebron.”

  Kayla nodded. “I said it’s done, Liam. This is not our first go-round. We’ll talk about it later.”

  Liam started to go back into the room, but Kayla grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “So, did you ask her?”

  “I was just about to, but someone showed up at our dinner.”

  “Sorry. Were you going to give her the ring?”

  Liam grimaced. “I didn’t get a chance to shop.”

  Kayla shook her head. “Liam, you can’t just ask her. You have to give her a ring. You have to do it right. She’ll want to remember t
his for the rest of her life.”

  Liam sighed. “I know you’re right.”

  Kayla smiled and walked away. “See you tomorrow.”

  SIXTY-SEVEN

  “SO THAT’S WHERE YOU left it?” Catherine said. “You asked her about support and she said, ‘We’ll talk about it later’? I hope you said, ‘Let me know how this all turns out.’”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Well then, you can’t go.”

  Liam smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “I’m not kidding, Liam. It’s one thing to ask you to poke around and ask questions, and yet another to ask you to pretend you’ll pay the ransom money. But to ask you to jump into the middle of a military strike with inadequate backup, or no backup, that’s insanity.”

  “Do you hear me arguing with you?”

  “Good. Then you’re not going.”

  Liam scrunched his face. “Well … I didn’t say I wouldn’t go. Kayla’s going to talk to Harry tomorrow, and she says we’ll have all the support we need.”

  “I don’t trust her, Liam. You heard Harry say she’s obsessed with this doctor.”

  Liam nodded.

  “And you also heard him say he’s never seen any proof that the man’s a terrorist.”

  Liam nodded.

  “Stop nodding! I don’t want you to go.”

  “I get that.”

  Catherine put her arms around him. “Please don’t do something foolish. Don’t be so damn macho. Let the CIA handle their own problems.”

  “I’m not being macho. I’m the one who made the contacts and set this whole thing up. I’m the one who’s supposed to go with Sommers to get his daughter. That’s the plan we sold. How do I back out now? And what if Kayla’s spot-on? What about those two thousand bags in Jerusalem? Two thousand screaming victims? She says the answers are all in the outbuilding. If we get the CIA’s support, get into the building, and stop the attack, we’ll save a lot of lives. Do you really want me to back out?”

  “Yes. Of course I do. I don’t want you anywhere near this operation.” She hung her head. “But you’re right. If you’re able to help prevent an attack, and if the CIA protects you, then you should go.”

  He kissed her on the forehead and held her head on his chest. “That’s my baby.”