THE PRICE SHE'LL PAY: For the secret she never knew she had...

by Cara Charles

  Elise’s little shoulders began to shake as she shook her head, no.

  Charles felt like a heel, but he had to impress upon her this breach was very serious.

  “Honey? I’m sorry. Don’t cry. Secrets are Daddy’s special work. We are hiding Eve for her safety. Do you understand this is not a secret that a child should know? Someone…,” he began but couldn’t finish. Telling her she was in danger now, he just could not do.

  Elise nodded, her eyes downcast, unable to speak. She burst out crying, putting her face in her Daddy’s chest.

  Charles stroked her hair and cried too. It was his fault entirely. She was a remarkably accurate artist, why had he ignored that?

  With her chin quivering she looked into his eyes, “Everyone knows Eve from Sunday School, Daddy. It’s not my fault you can’t keep secrets, yourself.”

  Now Elise was sobbing. His four-year old genius was right.

  Charles embraced her, “Don’t cry honey. Oh my goodness! You are so smart and you are right! I have made a huge mistake calling her by a name everyone knows. You are a very, very smart girl, smarter than Daddy ever realized. You’re smarter than I am. I know you will remember how important it is to help Daddy do his job to keep Eve safe. I wish I could be with you and play with you more often, but now I have to be the keeper of the biggest secret in the world. Secrets are my job, honey. Protecting Eve is the most important secret of my life. Understand?”

  Charles had seriously upset her. She couldn’t stop crying. He pulled her to his chest hard to smother the hurt she was feeling. He stroked her hair and rocked her, her body convulsing with sobs as tears welled up in his eyes.

  “I’m so very sorry, honey. I knew you were smart. I just didn’t know how smart. This is my fault, all my fault. Please, please forgive me.”

  “Oh Daddy. I don’t want you to go to jail. I should have drawn more bikes, not the dumb map. I promise I will never tell, so Eve can stay safe and hide in all the universities around the world.”

  Charles was stunned. She’d heard everything. He had to drop it or it would become a trauma she’d never forget.

  “We won’t talk about it anymore. Everyone is safe. Because you are so smart, I’ll ask President Ike if we can make you a special secret keeper too. OK? I love you so much, honey.”

  Charles pulled her up into his arms and rocked her. She nodded. He wiped her eyes, kissed, and hugged her as she threw her arms around his neck. Charles rocked her until her sobs disappeared.

  She kissed his cheek and smiled, her eyelashes still clinging to unspent tears.

  “Hey listen, my little whippersnapper, my darling, brave, smart daughter. It’s time to… ‘get Elise a big girl Green and Silver bike’ day. Let’s go! Shall we go?”

  Charles kissed her cheeks, wiped her eyes, and his own. His little darling nodded. She didn’t know how vulnerable she was now. It was completely his fault he knew, as he put his arm around her. He had to tell Ike.

  “Yes, I promise to keep all your secrets, always. Let’s go now, OK Daddy? I want to show the Mosses, Sam, and Mommy my new bike before dark. And Daddy? Promise me one thing.”

  “Anything my angel?”

  Elise took his face in her hands and looked him in the eye.

  “Daddy? Call Eve something else, so no one will ever know you are talking about her, so they won’t want to listen like I did, so she can stay safe.”

  “See how very smart you are. We should have thought of that. What should we call her?”

  “Promise me, Daddy. This is very very important.”

  Charles raised his hand to take an oath. “I solemnly promise, I will never call her Eve again. She has another name, but no one can remember it. We need to call her something else. You name her a new name, my darling. We all will call her by the name you choose.” Charles kissed her. Tears were spilling from his eyes. He put the car in gear and drove. ‘How could my little child be so wise, like an old soul?’

  “I need to think about it for a while,” Elise said full of serious intent.

  “Of course. Just whisper her secret name in my ear, when we’re alone. Alone is important for secrecy. Now, tell me again about this Purple bike you love so much.”

  He tickled her. A smile lit up her angelic face. She pulled his cheek down to kiss it and wiped his tears. All was forgiven and forgotten, so he prayed.

  Out of her pocket Elise took her bike ad and showed it to her Daddy, “Green, Daddy! This one, Daddy. It is the most beautiful bike in the whole world!”

  At the city bike store Elise kissed Charles, and jumped out of the car. She joyfully ran inside searching for the perfect Schwinn two-wheeler Green bike with silver fenders and Green handle bar covers and streamers in white.

  “Daddy! Here it is! Come look! It’s here. Hurray!”

  After convincing the bike shop owner Elise didn’t need the training wheels, she jumped on her big bike, struggled for a while but eventually rode it around the parking lot, not sitting up on the seat because it was far too tall for her. She couldn’t sit on the seat and reach the pedals, but she didn’t care, this was her special bike.

  But because the bike was too big for a four year old, Charles bought Elise two bikes that day, a small pink one without training wheels, and her big girl special Green and Silver Schwinn. He hoped her sadness was behind her.

  The smile on Elise’s little face was priceless when she realized she got to take the small pink and the green and silver bikes home. Her angelic face was full of joy. Her face that day, he’d never forget for his entire life.

  Elise got home in plenty of time to ride around the huge park with the Moss boys.

  Sam, along with the cheering parents, urged her on. She was a circus girl performing on both bikes.

  Later Charles bathed her, read to her, and then laid down with her until she fell asleep. He lay with her for a while watching her sleep, the tears rolling down his face. When she was asleep, he crept out of her room.

  In his bathroom, he turned on his old green Zenith radio won years ago at Officer’s Club Bingo, got in the shower and sobbed.

  Later that night when Charles had finally fallen into a troubled, restless sleep, he was swimming up to consciousness and out of a terrible dream of Khrushchev and Howard Hughes and the Thunderbirds chasing Elise.

  Elise in her Japanese short robe called a Happy Coat woke him up by tickling his nose. When he opened his eyes she whispered in his ear.

  “Daddy?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Shhh,” she said, cupping her hands around her mouth at his ear. “Name her Shanti. Shanti is Mowgli’s friend from the Jungle Book.”

  “Perfect. I love it.” Charles whispered. ‘Herta’s new name was truly perfect.’

  Elise kissed him on his cheek, and petted his head. She tiptoed back to the door. She turned, and blew him a kiss. She pointed to his bedside table.

  Charles blew her a kiss back, while she waited at the door. Charles wiped away the tears and looked at the radio. He saw three red M&Ms, a gift from Elise. They were her little “I love you” message to him. He was always touched with how much she loved him. She never ate the red M&Ms. She had always given them to him. He blew her a kiss.

  She blew him a kiss back, then quietly shut the door.

  Charles put those precious M&Ms in his mouth, and rolled over on his back. He looked over at his wife who was fast asleep. He looked up at the ceiling and remembered the horror of the day that would forever shape their world. Lying there in the quiet, Charles chastised himself.

  He should have recognized signs of her gifts. Elise was quite a mimic, he’d thought. They’d read a story and she’d repeat everything in the story, word for word. She’d be praised and kissed and she loved the attention. He’d gotten her many new books because he enjoyed their story time together. He missed his children, being busy most evenings. He never realized she had been reading.

  Elise always had a dancing show for him on the weekends. When they were still in Jap
an, Charles gave their maids money to buy Elise pretty kimonos and obis and small black lacquered jewelry boxes and Japanese dolls. The Moss boys and Elise would play school during the day, their mothers hadn’t been around either, busy with their club duties or on field trips or at some class. The kind Japanese housemaids taught her Japanese children’s songs, which she picked quickly. Elise was reading to Kevin then seven, who had been having trouble in school with reading and writing. On weekends he’d lie in bed and hear them playing school.

  Iain opened his eyes. He remembered something in Charles’ file. His investigators reported Charles appeared bored. Charles had had an assignment in physiological training in the early part of his re-entry career, on a base in central Texas because of his pre-med degree. They reported whenever Charles was in D.C., he’d drop in on seminars at GWU med school and attend psychology symposiums on memory and brain function. Charles had given them something to chew on.

  ‘But why?’

  Another notation surfaced. As Charles closed in on retirement, they’d concluded perhaps he’d try med school again, something in psychiatry or psychology.

  CHAPTER EIGHT -- BINGO

  SHORTY AFTER THE INCIDENT, Charles had met with Ike in Indian Wells.

  Ike was concerned. Charles never requested a visit. It was always Ike who invited him down.

  “I need a stiff drink sir, complete privacy, your attendance, and your typewriter,” Charles said as he entered Ike’s residence.

  “Of course,” Ike braced as he escorted him into his study and Charles closed the door.

  Charles turned on the stereo, gulped down the double whiskey, then sat down at Ike’s typewriter, and blazed away, the speed typist that he was.

  Ike read as Charles typed about Elise, crying through it. Ike put a firm hand on his shoulder and consoled him.

  When Charles had finished, Ike nudged him out of the seat and typed:

  ‘I’m not angry son, just very concerned. I assure you, we’ll both protect Elise at all costs, the ‘how’ should be left up to you. I have some ideas --

  1. Brad Moss doesn’t EVER need to know what had happened that day. I didn’t really like Brad knowing about our guest, anyway.

  2. Here is the name of Dr. Desiree Richards, the daughter of a Black Chamber member; her father was a WWII MI-6 psychiatrist, an old colleague from England. I’ve known Dr. Daniel Richards since my command. As an original member of Black Chamber, Daniel got the program up on its post-war legs.

  3. Desiree grew up surrounded in the national secrecy climate. She’s perfected her father’s psychological work and is working for the NSA. Casually engage Desiree in cocktail party conversation about your brilliant child next time you are in D.C., but nothing more until you choose to completely trust her.

  4. And have some faith, son. We’ve got this contained. I’d trust Desiree. You need a sympathetic ally.’

  Charles nodded then broke down sobbing.

  Ike gripped his shoulders, then went to his liquor cabinet, and poured them both another healthy drink. Ike toasted Charles, then he burned the paper.

  That January while in D.C., Charles attended embassy parties to meet people of science, and to bump into Dr. Desiree Richards. He did need her as an ally, but he was terrified of exposure.

  One night, someone called out her name. There she was. He watched her. Desiree Richards was stunning, blond, regal, but warm and engaging. She had a smile for everyone, an unusually happy person for a psychologist. Desiree Richards was attached to the British Embassy. Then, he overheard she’d be reading her paper tomorrow at GWU.

  At her GWU paper presentation, Desiree looked at Charles, remembering him from the party. ‘The shy one that watched her all night.’

  Dr. Desiree Richards’s paper on ‘Eidetic Memory’ sparked Charles’ research.

  The next time Charles was at a D.C. Embassy party Desiree was there. There was no ring on her finger. To break the ice, he brought over a vodka gimlet with a twist of lime not lemon.

  “Hello Desiree. President Eisenhower sends his regards. I’m Charles Larsen.”

  “Pleasure. Send my regards to the President. I just had a note from him about you. He may have told you I’m conducting studies on memory with the State Department and the NSA,” Desiree said.

  “I enjoyed your paper on ‘Eidetic Memory.’ Your research and applications are compelling. I have a little genius of a four year old daughter I’d like to discuss with you some time.”

  “Over coffee at the Hay Adams tomorrow say, ten a.m.?” Desiree smiled then walked off.

  Charles watched her walk away, already fascinated.

  That was the first of their many conferences about Elise and the beginning of their relationship. They discussed her early reading, her total recall, visual and auditory, his testing of her for autism with negative results. Desiree gave him literature to read. He took notes. She noticed he never mentioned the mother, other than to say she was a society woman and mostly disengaged.

  Charles had memorized Dr. Richards’ research and continued memory research at the UCLA and USC libraries, careful not to check out any books and use different librarians. He bought the books.

  When he applied Desiree’s memory triggers to his study of recall of long-term memory, they worked every time including olfactory and visual aids. What methods Desiree used in her research paper, Charles reproduced in Elise. Charles began to expand Desiree’s science and created his own.

  His little Elise was amazing, her abilities grew, he filmed them, recorded them, read them to her, she recalled all the cues as if she was reading them herself. He dare not write them down. Every note was burned. He’d ask Elise to recall a fact he’d forgotten and she could. He understood he would have to work hard on burying what she knew, until one day she’d be called upon to recall what he had taught her -- the universities’ timetable for Shanti.

  Charles knew not to push Elise. Their game was always fun. He would hypnotize her so she would not innocently repeat these things to her mother or her brother or to the maids and house manager.

  Charles’s wife was not an engaged mother. She enjoyed being President of this club and that charity. With her personal seamstress, she enjoyed designing her own custom made evening wear, and tailored suits that copied Chanel or Oscar De La Renta that she had made in Hong Kong. Occasionally, there was time for little girl’s clothing.

  In Japan, she wouldn’t miss the Wives Club meetings or their trips to Tokyo for cooking lessons, French, Chinese and Japanese and hat making, sight seeing of all kinds called Japanese Culture Days which kept her away from Sam and little Elise.

  “After all, child care is what housemaids are for,” she often said.

  “Happy wife. Happy life.” The men were under orders to fulfill.

  Back home in the US, his wife duplicated her life in Japan. They grew apart.

  Meeting Desiree gave him hope. They began communicating through diplomatic pouch. On his visits to Washington over dinner, he got to know her and her feelings about bothersome things going on in the governments they both served.

  Charles brought Elise to the office frequently on weekends. He let her color away, secretly programming her memory to have keys and dead ends if someone ever took her prisoner.

  His hope was that the brothel file would always remain classified. He would press Ike to urge the President to delete it before J. Edgar Hoover stumbled onto it. Ike had assured him he would dispose of it.

  Charles taught Elise all of the pre-programmed Universities they had worked out for Shanti to work for, for the next one hundred years to match Elise’s lifetime. He still needed to find her a trusted guardian. Charles hoped someday he’d be able to have a team for his daughter in case something happened to him or his wife.

  Elise’s memory would unlock in 2016 and she’d be responsible to protect Shanti or Shanti could just disappear, never to be found again. Their choice. It would be preferable to let Shanti disappear. Humans were greedy. They’d never let her
live without exploiting and destroying her.

  Shanti was tracked by satellites overseen by Charles. When they fell from orbit he didn’t have their mission re-instated. He wanted to let her go. When she moved from university to university all around the world of the allies of the United States, employed as a fully functioning multi-lingual Professor of Ancient Semitic History, he knew where she was through Elise’s ability of total recall.

  Charles was not settled on the issue of retirement. Charles was a full Colonel now, mainly a consultant in the maturing NSA, flying between Los Angeles, Houston, Texas, D.C. the Pentagon, Florida, and Maryland.

  He would spend long dinners with Desiree. They both knew they were being watched or in the GWU, Howard, and Georgetown research libraries, occasionally Johns Hopkins. He masked the dissertations he was reading that would advance his knowledge to help Elise keep Shanti and Elise, safe. He was thankful to have Desiree as a friend and consultant.

  Charles and Elise would take outings. He would test her, becoming her pupil in their little school game. His little daughter did indeed have an eidetic memory, visual as well as auditory. She could color exactly what she saw, childlike but accurately and she could repeat whole passages of what he would recite to her, even in Russian and German, even though she had no idea what she was saying.

  He visited Otis often and considered asking Otis to be Elise’s guardian, but Otis was developing health issues and his children were very politically involved in the Civil Rights movement. Their time was long overdue. They didn’t need another burden.

  When Charles was called to the Pentagon at the beginning of the March 1968 Presidential campaign, he wasn’t surprised. He half expected it. When everyone who worked at his small office was reassigned except him, he panicked.

  While en route to D.C, he got news Lt. Col Bradley Moss died in a vacation accident. Charles feared he was being made sole keeper of the secret. God forbid, he hoped Ike hadn’t killed Brad.