The birthday girl

by Stephen Leather

  Mersiha threw her arms around Freeman and hugged him tight. He could feel her hot breath against his neck. 'Don't ever leave me, please. Please don't leave me.'

  Freeman squeezed her. 'I won't leave you, pumpkin.'

  'No matter what?'

  'Of course.' He untangled her arms from around his neck.

  'Has something happened?'

  She shook her head and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands. Freeman held out a handkerchief but she refused to take it. 'I'm okay,' she said. 'I just got a bit sad, that's all.'

  Freeman put his hands on the girl's shoulders. She looked small and vulnerable and his heart went out to her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and protect her, to banish all her fears for ever. 'There's no need to be sad. Everything's all right now,' he said.

  She nodded but Freeman could see that she wasn't convinced.

  'Come on, let's go inside. Katherine's probably got dinner ready.'

  Mersiha looked as if there was something else she wanted to say; there was a pleading in her eyes. Freeman realised with a jolt when he'd last seen the imploring look. It was when he'd found her in the camp, her head shaved, wearing rags. 'I don't want to go in yet. I'll come in soon. Okay?'

  Freeman pinched her chin gently. 'Okay, pumpkin. I understand.'

  He stood up and went inside on his own. Katherine was chopping tomatoes. He put his briefcase on the kitchen table, went up behind her and hugged her. 'What's wrong with Mersiha?' he said.

  'What do you mean?' Katherine asked, as she sliced the last tomato.

  'She looked down in the dumps. Wouldn't tell me what was wrong.'

  Katherine shrugged. 'She seemed happy enough an hour ago.'

  She picked up a large onion and began peeling it.

  'No problems at school?' he asked.

  'Not that I know of,' she said. 'Maybe she's having her period.'

  Freeman grinned. 'That's a sexist remark, if ever I heard one,' he said.

  'I wouldn't make fun of me while I've a knife in my hand,'

  Katherine said. 'Remember Fatal Attraction.'

  'Okay, okay,' Freeman said, slipping his arms from around her waist and planting a kiss on the back of her neck. 'What's for dinner?'

  'Pasta, with tomato and basil sauce.'

  'Sounds great,' he said. 'Can you go easy with the garlic? I've got a meeting with our union officials tomorrow and it's going to be hard enough to get them to look me in the eyes as it is.'

  'Sure.' She chopped the onions into tiny cubes and scraped them off the cutting board into a large pan on the stove. 'Can you look after the pasta? I'm going out for a while. Nordstrom's is having a sale in Towson. I'm meeting a few of the girls there.'

  'Why don't you take Mersiha? Do a little mother-daughter bonding?'

  Katherine shook her head. 'She's got homework to do.' She looked at her watch. 'I have to go.' She sniffed at the red sauce as it bubbled in the pan. 'Let this simmer for about fifteen minutes.

  The pasta's in the fridge, the instructions are on the packet.'

  'We'll be fine,' Freeman said. 'You go, you don't want to keep the girls waiting.'

  Katherine went upstairs to change. Freeman walked over to the kitchen window. Mersiha was still sitting under the willow tree. She appeared to be looking in his direction but when he waved there was no reaction. He checked the heat under the saucepan, noted the time on the stove timer, and went upstairs.

  Katherine was in the bathroom in bra and pants, stepping into a light blue dress. Freeman grabbed for her as she straightened up, slipping his hands around her full breasts and pushing himself against her. He nuzzled her neck. 'You smell good,' he said.

  She tried to button up the front of the dress, but Freeman kept a hold of her. 'Come on, how about a quickie?' he asked, only half joking.

  'Three reasons. I'm late, Mersiha's going to walk in at any moment, and you're sweaty.' She reached behind with both hands and rubbed them against his groin. He felt himself grow hard. 'Maybe later,' she said.

  'How about a kiss?' he said. 'A consolation prize?'

  Katherine twisted around and put her arms around his neck, the full length of her body pressing against him as she kissed him.

  He moaned as she slipped her tongue between his teeth and he tried to push her back, on to the bed.

  She pulled her head back and tapped him on the nose with her index finger. 'Later,' she said. She stepped back and buttoned up her dress. 'You'd better keep an eye on that sauce.'

  'Yeah, a man's place is in the kitchen,' he said.

  He went back downstairs. The sauce was simmering nicely so he took his briefcase through into the study. He sat down at his desk and turned on his computer and monitor. He knew the figures in the financial spreadsheet by heart but he wanted to look at them again nonetheless, as if by going over them one last time he'd uncover a hidden cash reserve or profit centre. He slumped back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. Prepared phrases kept popping into his mind. Well placed for the economic upturn. A temporary profits reversal.

  Negative cash flow resulting in a cessation of dividend payments.

  The fancy language meant only one thing. The company was haemorrhaging money and would continue to do so for the foreseeable future. 'Shit,' he said, out loud.

  Katherine appeared at the door. 'What's wrong?' she asked.

  Freeman looked up. She was wearing full make-up and she'd brushed her hair until it shone. He knew how important it was for her to look good in front of her peers. Her friends were the bitchiest group of women he'd ever come across outside of a prime-time television show. They seemed to take a delight in ripping each other apart, like sharks turning on their own at the scent of blood. Freeman reckoned the reason they were always going out together was because they feared that if they weren't there they'd be the target of the scorn and derision. Better to turn up and be a part of the bitching than to be absent and be the butt of it. 'You look fabulous,' he said. He didn't want to get dragged into a discussion about the company's worsening financial situation.

  'Why, thank you. Don't forget the sauce.'

  'I won't. Have a good time.'

  She blew him a kiss and left. A few moments later he heard her car start up. He switched off the computer and went into the kitchen. He rapped on the window with his knuckles but Mersiha didn't get up. He opened the back door. 'Hey, pumpkin, supper's ready!' he called.

  Mersiha got to her feet and walked over, her hands thrust deep into the pockets of her jeans. He ruffled her hair as she walked by him. 'Katherine's out so it's just you and me.'

  'Where did she go?' she asked, her voice a flat monotone.

  'Shopping,' he said, sniffing at the sauce. There was a strong smell of garlic which almost masked the basil. 'Can you get the pasta? It's in the fridge.'

  Mersiha frowned. 'Shopping? Are you sure?'

  'That's what she said, pumpkin. Come on, pass the pasta.'

  'I'm not hungry,' Mersiha said, and rushed out of the room.

  Buffy sat in front of the stove and watched her go. The dog looked up at the food on the stove, at the door, and then back at the stove. She sat down and woofed quietly.

  'Yours is in the tin,' Freeman told the dog as he went out of the kitchen after Mersiha. 'Get it yourself.'

  He found Mersiha in her bedroom, face down and hugging her pillow. He sat down next to her and reached out to stroke her long black hair. 'Hey, whatever it is, it can't be that bad,' he said softly. 'Can't you tell me about it?'

  She shook her head, still buried in the pillow.

  'Is it school?' Another shake. 'A boy?' That produced a short, harsh laugh, muffled by the pillow. 'Girl stuff?'

  She moved quickly, rolling over and grabbing him around the waist, her head in his lap. There were damp patches on her cheeks. Freeman felt totally helpless. She was his little girl and he was supposed to take care of her, to keep all the bad and hurtful things at bay, but until he knew what the problem was there was nothing he could do.
'It's all right, pumpkin,' he said. 'I'm here.' He smoothed her hair with the flat of his hand.

  It was jet black with the exception of a small group of pure white hairs to the left of her parting. The few white hairs seemed to emphasise how black the rest were.

  Freeman ate supper alone in front of the television. He ate mechanically, his thoughts divided between Mersiha and his forthcoming meeting with the union officials. When he'd finished he carried the plate and fork through into the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher. He'd put pasta and sauce in a bowl for Mersiha but as she hadn't come when he'd called he'd put it in the oven to keep warm. He took it out of the oven, picked up a clean fork, and took them upstairs to her bedroom. He knocked on the door but there was no answer. 'Feeding time,' he called, but she still didn't reply.

  He opened the door and peered around it. Mersiha was asleep, her arms still hugging the pillow. Freeman put the pasta on her bedside table and covered her with the quilt. Her hair had fallen across her face like a black curtain and Freeman brushed it away, taking care not to wake her. She was fifteen, going on sixteen, and she was already becoming a woman, but she slept like a little girl.

  He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. It was as soft as a baby's skin. Freeman leant over and planted a kiss on her forehead. 'Sleep well, pumpkin,' he whispered.

  Her eyelids flickered and opened, but she was still asleep.

  'Don't leave me, Daddy,' she murmured. 'Don't ever leave me.'

  Before Freeman could reply her eyes had closed and she was snoring softly.

  Freeman was in the study going over his financial spreadsheet for the thousandth time when he heard Katherine's key in the front door-lock. He looked at his watch. Nine thirty. He switched the computer off and went through into the hall where she was removing her coat. He looked around for the collection of shopping bags that usually followed a trip to the mall with the girls. 'So, what did you get?' he said. 'Or shall I wait for the credit card bills?'

  'You got off lightly,' she laughed, putting the coat in a closet.

  'You didn't buy anything?'

  'I put a couple of things on hold. I'll sleep on it,' she said, and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  He caught a whiff of a fragrance he hadn't noticed before.

  It smelled more like aftershave than perfume, but that wasn't unusual. Katherine often preferred masculine fragrances and was for ever borrowing his aftershave. 'What's the scent?' he asked.

  Katherine shrugged. 'We were trying samples in the perfume section,' she said. 'Don't ask me to name names, though.' She walked into the kitchen. 'How was supper?' she asked.

  'Yeah, it was okay.'

  'Just okay?'

  'It was terrific. A gastronomic delight.'

  'Hmmmm. Good old Scottish understatement.' She peered into the saucepan. It was still half full. 'I could make you something else.'

  'It was fine.' He went up behind her and held her around the waist. 'Mersiha still seems unhappy.'

  'Did she say what was wrong?'

  Freeman slipped his hands up to her breasts and kissed her on the neck. 'No. Do you think we should increase her sessions with Art? Maybe have her see him twice a week?'

  'I'll ask him next time I see him,' she said.

  'Bed?' asked Freeman, kissing her neck.

  'I want to read a little first,' said Katherine, pulling away. 'You go up first. I'll join you later.'

  'Are you sure?' asked Freeman, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

  Katherine gave him a sisterly peck on the cheek. 'I'm sorry.

  You know how shopping with the girls always gives me a headache.' She patted his groin with her hand. 'I'll take a rain check. Okay?'

  'Okay. I've got work to do anyway.' Freeman watched her walk into the sitting room before heading for the study and the unchanging spreadsheet.

  Mersiha woke up with a jolt, covered in sweat, her whole body shaking. The nightmare had been so real, so vivid, that it was several seconds before she realised she was safe in bed and not back in Bosnia. She lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling. The dreams always came when she was insecure; she didn't have to be a psychiatrist to realise that. It was the one thing she dreaded most – losing her family and being sent back to the camp.

  Her mind was a whirl, filled with images of her past. Her father, dead in the street. The pain her mother had endured until it became too much for her. The school. Always her thoughts went back to the school. She rolled over and hugged her pillow.

  It was Art Brown who was to blame. Art Brown and his questions, always probing, always trying to get inside her head. Now the psychiatrist had discovered something, something so important that he'd had to see Katherine at short notice, something that was so secret that Katherine hadn't even told her husband where she was going. Tears welled up in Mersiha's eyes. 'I won't cry,' she promised herself, blinking them away. 'I won't cry.'

  Anthony Freeman was helping himself to a coffee from the office machine when Maury Anderson came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder with a rolled-up copy of USA Today. 'I don't know how you can drink that stuff,' he said.

  'If I don't get a caffeine injection I get headaches,' Freeman said. He poured a second cup and carried it through to his secretary's office. Anderson followed in his wake. 'Here's yours, Jo,' Freeman said, putting the cup on his secretary's desk.

  Freeman and Anderson went into the inner office. Anderson back-kicked the door closed behind them and sat down on Tony's couch. He swung his feet up on the coffee table, knocking aside a pile of defence magazines. 'When are you gonna do something about this furniture, Tony?'

  Freeman shrugged. 'If it was good enough for Katherine's father, it's good enough for me.' The cheap factory-made desk and filing cabinets were chipped teak veneer and the carpet was threadbare. The sofa on which Anderson was sprawling sagged from years of use and one of the legs of the coffee table had been replaced with wood that didn't quite match. The furniture, and the office with its view of the car park, had once belonged to Freeman's father-in-law and he'd inherited it along with the chairman's job. 'Besides, I figure that if we meet Nelson here, he's going to realise that we're not wasting our money on office furnishings. The same can't be said if we take him up to your place, right?'

  Anderson smirked. 'Guess you're right. Did you see CNN?'

  Freeman frowned. 'No, what's up?'

  'There's been a new wave of arrests in Seoul. Six military officials. The government's serious about this clampdown on kickbacks for weapons procurement. Everyone's getting real jittery.'

  'Yeah, but it's not as if we've done any business with the South Koreans,' Freeman said.

  'Not because we didn't try,' Anderson said, stretching out.

  'It just makes it harder everywhere else. Sort of makes you wish for the good old days when Iran was buying a billion dollars of military hardware every year from the United States, doesn't it?'

  The intercom buzzed. It was Freeman's secretary, announcing that Lennie Nelson was in the outer office. Freeman sighed and asked her to shown him in.

  'High noon,' Anderson said as he got to his feet. 'Say, what do you call a blind elk with no legs?'

  'What?'

  'Still no eye-deer,' Anderson said.

  Freeman tried not to laugh as the door opened and Nelson strode in, his right arm outstretched, a predatory smile on his lips. 'Tony, good to see you again,' he said, shaking hands.

  His grip was firm but once again Freeman couldn't help but notice how moist the man's hands were. Nelson shook hands with Anderson, then looked around the office. Freeman could tell from the look on the man's face that he wasn't impressed by the cheap furnishings, and when he sat down he pulled at the knees of his trousers as if trying to minimise the contact between the expensively cut material of his suit and the worn fabric of the sofa. Anderson was fighting to stop himself from grinning.

  Freeman raised his coffee cup. 'Can I get you anything, Lennie? Tea? Coffee?' he asked.r />
  'Dry martini with a twist?' Anderson added.

  Freeman glared at Anderson die way he looked at his dog when she misbehaved. Anderson pretended not to notice, which was pretty much the way Freeman's dog usually reacted.

  'Coffee will be just fine,' Nelson said. Jo was standing at the door and she nodded. She looked expectantly at Anderson but he shook his head.

  'So, I don't suppose the board meeting's here, is it?' Nelson asked.

  'We've got a boardroom upstairs,' Freeman said.

  'Any news on the orders front?' Nelson asked.

  'Nothing yet,' Freeman replied.

  'The way I hear it, the US is pumping billions into Israel to maintain its security,' Nelson said. 'You can figure all the Arab countries are gonna have to do the same. That's gotta be good news, right?'

  'Unfortunately, those billions are going on big defence systems, aircraft and missiles,' Anderson said. 'At the moment there aren't too many crumbs falling off the cake. Bigger doesn't necessarily mean better, not so far as we're concerned, anyway.'

  'Because you're not getting a share?' Nelson asked.

  'And it isn't going to get any better,' Freeman said. 'The best example is the fighter aircraft business. Back in the 1950s the US military would buy two thousand fighters a year, keeping lots of firms and tens of thousands of people working. In the sixties that had dropped to six hundred fighters a year, and that number had halved a decade later. Even in the Reagan years, with the defence budget doubled, they still only bought three hundred a year. The total expenditure keeps going up, but it doesn't keep pace with

  the unit cost. And who profits? The big manufacturers, that's who. All the smaller firms can't compete.'

  'You know where it'll end?' Anderson asked. 'If things continue they way they're going, by the year 2050 the military will be buying one plane a year. It'll be the best plane ever made, and it'll certainly be the most expensive, but it'll still only be one plane. And there'll only be one manufacturer.'

  'You don't really believe that,' Nelson said. Jo popped into the office with Nelson's coffee and copies of the minutes of the previous board meeting.