Liar's Candle

by August Thomas

  “No. I won’t leave you here. We have real prisons for people like you, Mr. Cabot. And real interrogators.” Melek nods to the guards, who grab Zach firmly by the arms.

  “You’re bluffing.” Zach’s laugh verges on the hysterical.

  “Good-bye, Mr. Cabot.” Melek crosses her arms. “You will not see me again.”

  His face is white. “You think you’ll get anything out of me this way?”

  “You’ll talk,” says Melek. “I know a coward when I see one.”

  * * *

  ÇIRAĞAN PALACE KEMPINSKI, ISTANBUL

  20:44 LOCAL TIME

  In service to his country.

  Penny opens her mouth—and closes it. She can’t contradict the Secretary of State on camera. He knew who Connor was. He must know about Zach. He must have a reason. He must.

  Winthrop continues, “Thanks to the courage of President Palamut’s Presidential Guard and the swift action of U.S. forces, Penny Kessler was rescued.” Winthrop reaches across Penny to shake President Palamut’s hand. “The United States couldn’t ask for a better partner in the global fight against terror than President Palamut. We look forward to continuing our fruitful partnership with him for many years to come.”

  Behind the cameras, Prime Minister Bolu looks like somebody put bleach in his glass of ayran.

  “Now that the world knows that Penny Kessler is safe, I will lead my very dear friend Robert into the NATO keynote,” says President Palamut. He smiles down at Penny. “You are speechless, my dear. I understand.” He presses his hand to his chest. “But I feel your gratitude in my heart.”

  The cameras follow Winthrop and Palamut like a tide as they maneuver back into the floodlit Kempinski gardens.

  “Penny.” Brenda Pelecchia folds her into a fierce hug. Tears are running down her face. “Thank God. Oh, thank God.”

  As the last light fades, the call to prayer echoes across the water.

  45

  * * *

  WHAT SETS YOU FREE

  Since Brenda refuses to let Penny out of her sight, Red Crescent workers turn the gold-brocaded sitting room of Secretary Winthrop’s decoy suite into a makeshift hospital. The IV drip stings, but Penny can feel her cramped muscles relax as painkillers and saline wash through her. A Red Crescent worker dabs stinging iodine on the wound on Penny’s head.

  Penny grits her teeth. “Brenda, we have to talk to you privately.”

  “Secretary Winthrop asked to debrief you both himself.” Brenda picks up an embossed leather portfolio from the rococo desk. “I’m under orders to get you guys anything you want for dinner. How do you feel about”—she squints at the room-service menu—“Ottoman-style rosewater yogurt soup?”

  “It’s extremely urgent, ma’am,” says Connor, from a plush armchair with a sterile plastic sheet draped over the arm.

  “Keep that ice on your jaw,” orders the nurse. Connor holds the white ice pack up to where Zach punched him. The nurse unwraps the bandage on Connor’s hand.

  “An evil eye bracelet?” says Brenda.

  The nurse sees Connor’s half-clotted bullet wound and sucks in her breath. “What this man needs is a surgeon, not a good luck charm!”

  “I can call an ambulance,” says Brenda.

  Connor squares his shoulders. “I’m staying with Penny. At least until Secretary Winthrop comes.”

  “Only if you want to lose the use of that hand,” warns the nurse.

  Connor blanches.

  Brenda says firmly, “I’m calling the ambulance.”

  “Go!” Penny touches his shoulder.

  “You sure?” His forehead creases. He looks like he’s been dragged through hell backward: filthy shirt and no tie, hair wild, face pummeled and lobster red, slightly upturned nose bleeding again. Penny remembers when she first saw him in the Ulus State Hospital.

  “You look smiley.” Connor raises an eyebrow. “Concussion catching up with you?”

  “Just tired.” She grins. “I could use some aspirin.”

  He smiles. “My aspirin-giving days are over.”

  She blinks hard. “Connor, I just want you to know . . .”

  “No need for big good-byes,” says Brenda. “You’re both getting medevaced back home on the same plane.”

  “Medevaced?” Penny hasn’t forgotten how Christina blew up Faruk’s car. She tries not to panic. “You mean alone, on a government plane?”

  “Don’t get too excited. It’s just a seat on a commercial flight.” Brenda makes a face. “They wouldn’t shell out for an air ambulance.”

  Connor stands up, wincing. “Alex and I have a comfortable futon in Virginia. Promise you’ll come stay with us. As long as you need.”

  Penny hugs him. “I promise.”

  “Haydi.” The nurse urges Connor toward the door.

  “Okay.” He squeezes Penny’s hand. “Good luck.”

  In her palm, where Connor pressed it, is the real evil eye bracelet. She closes her fist tight and shoves it deep in her pocket.

  The door closes behind Connor. Outside, on the dark waters of the Bosphorus, a container ship blasts its horn.

  “Haydi, canım.” The nurse sits Penny back down in the silk-upholstered armchair.

  Brenda exhales. “Penny.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m just so sorry.” Brenda’s voice is thick. “I should never have let Prime Minister Bolu take you—”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Penny stares at the floor as the nurse wraps gauze around her head wound.

  Brenda shakes her head. “I should have fought harder.”

  Penny closes her eyes; her head is throbbing again. “Maybe next time.”

  “Christ, I hope there’s never a next time.” Brenda sits down next to her. “Penny, will you do me a favor?”

  “Me?”

  “Don’t let this put you off a career in the Foreign Service. We could use young people like you.”

  “Honestly”—Penny looks at her—“you didn’t seem to think I was very good at my job.”

  “The last thing you needed was another pat on the head. You shouldn’t rely so much on other people’s approval. You have to know your own center of gravity.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Good.” Brenda flips on the gigantic flatscreen TV. CNN Türk is replaying footage of Secretary Winthrop and President Palamut’s handshake. “The Secretary is skipping the reception. He’ll be up as soon as the keynote’s over. Not long now.”

  Winthrop is as good as Brenda’s word. He strides into the sitting room of his suite looking tired but triumphant, hair rigidly perfect as ever. Aides escort the medical staff out of the room.

  “Let’s move it, folks!” Frank Lerman claps his hands like a middle-school football coach. “The Secretary hasn’t got all night! Clear the room!”

  Disgruntled Red Crescent workers file out as Diplomatic Security special agents check for listening devices.

  “You, too, all of you!” Frank hustles a young staffer out the high wooden doors. “This is top-level only. Me, the Secretary, and the Chargé d’Affaires. That’s it. DS agents, you wait in the hall.” Frank slams the door and shakes his head at the sheer burden of always having to tell lesser mortals what to do.

  “You, too, Frank,” says Winthrop.

  Frank’s face falls. “But, sir—”

  “Frank.” Winthrop raises an eyebrow.

  “Yes, Mr. Secretary.” Frank’s little eyes dart at Brenda. “But I’d like to remind you, sir, that I have higher clearance than the acting Ambassador.”

  “I’m going to ask Brenda to step outside for a moment, too.” Winthrop sits down next to Penny on the couch.

  Brenda’s hand rests on Penny’s shoulder. “Mr. Secretary, if you wouldn’t mind . . .”

  Winthrop grins. “I’m not going to lose her, Brenda.”

  Frank stalks out. Brenda closes the door carefully.

  It’s just the two of them.

  “Thank you for your cooperation,” Winthrop
says.

  “Of course, sir.”

  “There’s no ‘of course’ about it,” says Winthrop warmly. “I’ve never heard anything like it. Punching out Palamut’s Chief of Staff? Sneaking out of the palace down a construction tube?” He shakes his head. “That’s sure not what we put in the internship brochure.”

  Penny’s breath catches in her throat.

  She never told him about the palace. She hasn’t told anyone but Connor. So how does Winthrop know exactly how she escaped from Melek? There’s no time to think about that now.

  She stammers, “I guess you rise to the occasion.”

  “Well, you certainly rose. I’ll see to it that you and Connor Beauregard both receive official commendations for bravery.” Winthrop smiles at Penny. “That will look pretty good on job applications, huh? Now”—he leans forward—“I hear you have something to tell me.”

  “Mr. Secretary . . .” Penny swallows hard. “Why did you tell them Zach—Jack—died at Mor Samuel? Melek Palamut—”

  Winthrop nods wearily. “I’m aware of what she did.”

  “You are, sir?”

  “I know it’s hard to understand.” Winthrop sighs.

  “She murdered him! That’s not justice!”

  “No.” Winthrop walks to the high windows and looks out across the Bosphorus. The shoulders of his well-cut suit slump. “But sometimes we must make sacrifices for a greater truth. Given the nature of my cousin’s work with the CIA, if his morally repugnant conduct came to light, it would undermine everything we’re trying to achieve.” Winthrop turns back to her, eyes sad. “It’s a painful lesson. I’m sorry you have to learn it so young.”

  “You know what Zach did, sir?”

  “Yes, Penny. I do.”

  “Then you know about Christina Ekdahl.”

  Winthrop is suddenly very still. “What do you know about Christina Ekdahl?”

  Penny takes a deep breath. “She’s been deliberately collaborating with the Hashashin. When Zach found out, she tried to have him transferred and threatened to pull his clearance.”

  Winthrop stares.

  “She thought I might know, so she sent Connor Beauregard to pick me up. And then she blew up our car. Our driver was killed. She sent an assassin after us. And then we think she tipped off the Turkish air force to take out our helicopter—and apparently she told the State Department that Connor was a traitor—”

  Winthrop holds up his elegant hands. “These are extremely serious allegations. Christina Ekdahl is one of our most trusted senior intelligence officials.”

  Penny’s heart pounds. “I have proof.”

  Winthrop speaks with exaggerated calm, as if he were talking a madwoman off the edge of a cliff. “Proof?”

  “Zach was trying to get an evil eye bead with a microchip inside it. It’s the only copy. A microchip full of proof that Christina Ekdahl used the State Department to secretly smuggle American weapons to the Hashashin. Including the Embassy bomb.”

  “And you have it? You have the microchip?”

  There is a raw desperation in Winthrop’s face.

  Suddenly Penny remembers Zach’s voice on the ferry: It was supposed to be a controlled explosion. Just enough to compromise him.

  She looks up at Secretary Winthrop, her mouth dry as dust.

  Zach said a senior State Department official had cooperated with Christina to smuggle weapons to the Hashashin.

  But Zach lied about so much. And Robert Winthrop is the Secretary of State.

  “It’s okay, Penny.” Winthrop’s smile is as fixed as his hair. His chuckle is ingratiating, scared. “You’re safe now.”

  In that instant, Penny is certain beyond doubt.

  In the end, you have to trust yourself.

  Hand trembling, Penny unfastens the bracelet from her wrist.

  Winthrop’s fingers close around the evil eye. “No one else knows?”

  She shakes her head.

  Winthrop looks down at her with obvious emotion. “You don’t know what a service you’ve done for your country.”

  Penny swallows. “I hope I did the right thing.”

  “You did, Penny.” His relief is visible. “If this had fallen into the wrong hands . . .” He shakes his head.

  “What now?”

  “Now, you should put this trying time behind you, take a very well-deserved vacation, and heal.” Winthrop stands up and shakes her hand. “You know I can’t announce this publicly. But you’ve shown extraordinary courage and patriotism today. You make me very proud.”

  “That means a lot, sir.”

  “You’ve done great.” Winthrop grows jolly as he guides her toward the door to the hallway. “You’re almost free.”

  “Almost?”

  “Frank wants you for one more interview.”

  “Mr. Lerman is very . . . persistent, isn’t he, sir?”

  Secretary Winthrop throws back his immobile coif and laughs. “A diplomatic answer if ever I heard one. Tell Frank I’ll be right out.” Winthrop shakes her hand once more, his voice deepening for the benefit of the listeners in the corridor. “Well done, Penny. God bless you. And God bless America.”

  Winthrop closes the door behind her and walks across the suite, into the bathroom.

  He smiles. For an ugly moment, he looks just like Zach.

  He opens the toilet lid and drops the evil eye into the water.

  One flush, and it’s all gone.

  * * *

  Brenda and Frank steer Penny down the second-floor hallway of the Çırağan Palace Kempinski, away from Secretary Winthrop’s suite. Penny feels jittery, as if she’d jammed her fingers in a socket. Her eyes won’t focus. She hardly feels their hands on her back as they guide her down the high white corridor. Their squabbling sounds like an unknown language, until one furious exclamation breaks through.

  “An interview?” On Penny’s right, Brenda sounds livid. “No. No. I absolutely forbid it.”

  “Come on.” To the left, Frank Lerman looks irritable, his pink pate shining with sweat. “It’s a puff piece! You know, ‘What’s next for Flag Girl?’ Blah blah American resilience blah blah blah. I had to get the fucker off my back. This is his reward for shutting up about that fucking Melek Palamut fake document leak.” Frank glares at Penny. “Which you are not going to say anything about, right?”

  “She’s not going to say anything about anything,” says Brenda, “because she’s going to go lie down in a quiet room and rest!”

  “What fucker?” Penny asks Frank.

  “Nick Abensour from the BBC.” Frank rolls his eyes. “Their ‘Turkey whisperer.’ Gobble, gobble. I had him checked out. Wasted ten years with Amnesty International, and he thinks he’s the fucking King of Democracy—”

  “I’ll talk to him for a few minutes,” says Penny. “But only if we can talk alone.”

  “Penny . . .” Brenda frowns.

  “Don’t worry.” Penny’s fingers close around the evil eye in her pocket. Between two disks of glass, the tiny black microchip rests intact. “I’ll be fine.”

  EPILOGUE

  D100 HIGHWAY, BAKIRKÖY, ISTANBUL

  22:55 LOCAL TIME

  Brenda insisted on accompanying Penny to the airport in her official car, the big black SUV with its heavy bombproof doors. It’s almost eleven, but Brenda is still on her BlackBerry, fielding call after call—a hailstorm of crisis fallout.

  “No more hospital photo ops,” snaps Brenda. “You tell Frank Lerman I don’t care what he says about the goddamn optics—”

  Penny shifts on the waxy leather, staring at the high-rise hotels that cluster around the highway to Atatürk International. She remembers Nick Abensour’s astonished face two hours before, when she handed him the evil eye.

  “Say you found it,” she whispered. “Just lying on the ground, outside the Embassy.”

  “I’ll get this where it needs to go.” Nick slipped the evil eye into his pocket. “Thank you for trusting me.”

  The black SUV speeds toward At
atürk airport. The highway is almost empty at this hour. Penny watches the signs flick past. Turkish signs. Words she memorized, flash card after flash card, long ago in Michigan.

  Brenda is already on another call. “I want to approve the schedule myself. Okay? Good.” She hangs up. “Jesus.”

  Penny forces a smile. “You really didn’t have to come out here with me.”

  “Of course I did. Anyway, what am I going to do? Sleep?” Brenda fumbles in her purse and pulls out a plain white envelope. “Here. Don’t open it.”

  “What is it?”

  “Money,” says Brenda. “Not that much. Just enough to help get you through the next few weeks.”

  “Thank you,” Penny stammers, “but—”

  “I won’t take it back.” Brenda purses her lips. “I read the obituary they put together for you. You worked forty hours a week during the semester to afford this internship. I’m damned if I’ll let you get into debt for surviving the attack.”

  “It was my dream.” Penny feels a lump in her throat. “I was proud to work hard for it.” She tries to smile. “I even loved filling out the SF-86 for my security clearance.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No.” Penny’s voice is hoarse. “It meant that I was part of it. Being at the Embassy meant the world to me.” She holds out the envelope. “You don’t need to do this.”

  Brenda crosses her arms. “You think it’s guilt, don’t you?”

  Penny suddenly feels sorry for Brenda. “No, I—”

  “Well, what if it is?” There are tears in Brenda’s eyes. “I can’t fix this fucking mess. Are you going to take away my chance to make some tiny part of this all right?”

  Penny shakes her head.

  “Okay?”

  “Okay.” Penny folds the envelope in half. “Thank you.”

  “Dış hatlar,” Brenda directs the driver. He steers toward the low white concrete of the International Terminal. Connor is waiting for them outside, his freshly bandaged hand in a sling.

  Penny beams when she sees him. She’d give anything to tell him about Nick Abensour. But she knows she can’t. Connor’s a CIA officer. Anyone with a clearance that high is legally bound to report leaks. He’ll just have to find out for himself.