by Ken W. Smith
The cottage turned out to be a five-bedroom, three-story mansion in Falmouth Heights. Located on a bluff, it offered breathtaking views of the ocean. Jay remembered riding his bike by the house when he was a kid and fantasizing about what it would be like to live here. Now he knew.
The first floor was open and simple. The best feature being the wraparound porch. Most of the bedrooms were on the second floor, and the third floor consisted of a single master suite.
When Jay arrived, Michelle sat at the kitchen table with several of her staff members. She greeted Jay and asked him and his friends to wait on the porch. There was a cooler with beer and several bags of chips. Michelle knew how to entertain.
Jay didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to catch up. He learned Gunny Mack was now with the FBI, and Natalie worked with the Secret Service. CJ and Madman were back home in New Hampshire. Gia left the Jordanian intelligence service and lives with her daughter and brother in Amman. He also learned Antonio taught mountain climbing and snowboarding in Interlaken, Switzerland.
McCoy sat down in a rocking chair next to Jay and cracked open a beer.
“You did good, Chief,” McCoy said as he stared out at the ocean. “You saved the Bishop’s life. You did your job. You can’t blame yourself for Billy’s death. It’s time to move on.”
“How do you move on? He left behind three little kids. Every time I see his wife at the supermarket or in the bank, I’m going to feel responsible for his death.”
“Marty and I agreed, we can’t use part-time cops. We need to hire professionals like you. We’re fighting against an enemy as brutal as the Taliban.”
“I swear that guy on the beach was the same guy who raped Olivia. He was tough and in shape. Plus, he knew how to fight. He had to be in Special Ops.”
“Security cameras caught Olivia leaving the dinner with a Canadian professor visiting the Institute, but nobody has seen him since the night of the assault. The Bishop’s attack is classified as a domestic terrorist event, so the FBI is now involved. We have an all-points bulletin out across New England.”
“We have to find this guy before he hurts or kills somebody else,” McCoy said.
“I agree,” Jay said. “Especially since his target appears to be me. Excuse me, guys, I need a few minutes alone.”
Jay strolled across the street and took a rickety wooden staircase down the bluff to the water’s edge. A light breeze stirred up small waves that broke gently against the rocky shore. Jay walked along the quiet beach and gazed across the water at Martha’s Vineyard. The cool sea air helped him think straight as he pondered his future. Jay felt terrible about Bill’s death. He signed up for a part-time job, not a military-style mission. Bill wasn’t expecting to be ambushed, and he didn’t know anything about his adversaries. Jay should never have put him in such a situation, and he should have learned more about the mission. He needed more intelligence about his customers and their threats. He also required special operators, not part-time cops with minimal combat experience.
He heard footsteps coming down the staircase and saw McCoy trying to sneak up on him. Some things never changed. Despite his size and new government job, McCoy was still a kid at heart. Jay played along with him and acted surprised.
“Hey Chief, we need to talk about the business. Are you ready to get more involved?”
“I thought I was involved. I completed our first assignment, attended our first funeral, and even destroyed our first vehicle. I’m not sure I’m ready to work as a security guard, never mind run a business.”
“You were our team leader on the Infinity Squad. You made life and death decisions every day.”
“No, that was General Andrew’s job. I followed orders.”
“But Jay, you ran the team. You planned the operations and got us out of some hairy situations. I’m talking about hiring a few security team members and training them. Then going out and drumming up some business. Bishop Ramirez wants to know if you’ll be his regular bodyguard.”
“Let me think about it, okay?” Jay said. “I need to head home. It’s been a long day.”
“Sure, I understand. But don’t wait too long. The phone in the office hasn’t stopped ringing. Marty wants you to contact people as soon as possible.”
Jay and McCoy returned to the cottage in time to say goodbye to his friends. Michelle waited for him by the front door.
“I thought you left without saying goodbye,” Michelle said with a slight frown on her face. “You are welcome to stay or come back later. My staff has gone out, and I was hoping to spend more one-on-one time with you.”
Jay should have said yes. He always liked Michelle. And he never knew what she saw in him. But tonight wasn’t the night.
“Thanks, Michelle,” Jay said as he hugged her. “I need some quiet time. I have some decisions to make.”
“I understand,” Michelle said. “I’m going back to New York in the morning. You have my number. I’m always available. You know. To talk.”
Jay smiled, “Don’t worry. I’ll take you up on that invitation sometime in the future. Just not tonight.”
As Jay drove back to his mother’s home, his phone rang. He peeked at the caller ID and saw Olivia’s name. He contemplated whether to answer the phone or not. It had been a month since she went to San Diego, and they spoke only a few times. He didn’t answer. He pulled into his mother’s driveway and played the voicemail.
Hi, Jay. It’s Olivia. How are you? I wanted to run something by you. The Director of the Scripps Institute needs a Director of Security. You could stay with me. I have a beautiful apartment on the ocean in La Jolla. Let me know one way or the other. Jay, I miss you. Call me.
Jay thought for a second. Her offer intrigued him. He loved San Diego, having spent a lot of time there while stationed with Seal Team Six. He returned the call but got her voicemail. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t leave a message.
Chapter 15
Jay didn’t sleep that night. He rarely did. The nightmares, while different every night, always ended the same. With him screaming himself awake. He tossed and turned, trying to decide whether to move to San Diego or stay in Falmouth. Then he thought about Michelle. She was amazing but out of his league. Why would she go out with him? Around four-thirty, he fell asleep.
At five, the doorbell rang. Jay stumbled down the stairs and opened the front door. Gia, CJ, and Madman were standing there dressed in tank tops and shorts.
“C’mon, Chief,” Gia said. “It’s PT time.”
“Why are you guys here?”
“We’re your new employees,” CJ said with a smile. “Let’s go.”
“But I still have stitches in my leg.”
“What’s a little pain for the DOAT,” Madman said. “Come on. You’re getting soft.”
“What’s the DOAT?”
“Deadliest of All Time,” CJ said with a smile.
“All right. You guys are crazy. Give me five minutes to change.”
* * *
They ran along the oceanfront through Falmouth Heights past Michelle’s rented cottage. Then around the harbor to Surf Drive. They jumped on the Shining Sea recreation path and stopped at a small bridge.
The pain in Jay’s leg was excruciating. At first, he could only limp along. His team stayed with him. After a mile or so, the pain subsided to a dull throb, and Jay got into a rhythm.
“Take your shoes and your shirt off, Mendes,” Gia said. “We’re going for a swim.”
The cold saltwater felt great on his leg. It was a lot easier for him to swim.
They swam along the beach until they reached the breakwater at Falmouth Harbor. Instead of turning around, Jay scrambled up the slippery granite blocks and plopped down onto his back.
“What’s the matter, Mendes?” Madman said. “You’re getting soft.”
“You guys are gonna work with me?” Jay said. “Are you insane?”
CJ laughed. “You know we’ll follow you anywhere in the world. From a cave in Pakist
an to the mountain ranges in Afghanistan and even dusty hellholes like Iraq.”
“You guys already did that,” Jay said. " We’re retired now.”
“We’re not retired,” Gia said. “We’re in a career transition. And we want to work with you. “We’re a team, and you can’t break up a great team.”
“Think of Bird and McHale,” Madman said. “Brady and Gronk. Orr and Esposito.” They were all greats. And they worked together.”
“Can you think of any analogies that aren’t Boston sports stars?” CJ said. “How about Jekyll and Hyde?”
“They were the same man, you idiot,” Madman replied.
“Okay, guys,” Jay said, laughing. “We were a great hostage rescue team. But I don’t know shit about running a business. What if we go bankrupt or, worse, get audited by the IRS?”
“Jay, you hire smart people like lawyers and accountants to deal with the business,” Gia said. “Do you think my oil baron uncle in Saudi Arabia knew anything about running an oil field?”
Jay stared at Gia. “Did you say oil baron uncle in Saudi Arabia? I thought you were born in Jordan.”
“What, I never told you my story?” Gia said. “I must have at one time.”
“No, never,” CJ said. “Now spill your beans, Princess.”
“Well, my real name was Maher….”
* * *
The ultra-long Mercedes limousine waited outside the Anne Fontaine designer outlet on Rue des Saints-Pères in Paris. Inside, personal shoppers gathered around the two young Saudi princesses in the private fitting room.
“Mother will love that,” Sama bin Abouzzi said to her younger sister. “It is so chic.”
Thirteen-year-old Maher bin Abouzzi smiled, “It is lovely. The silk is so soft on my skin, and the lines are elegant. How many different colors are there?”
The manager of the upscale boutique answered, “Eight. We can have them sent to your hotel or shipped to Riyadh.
Maher smiled. “Can I keep the outfit I have on? The others you can ship to the palace.”
“Of course, your highness.”
“I want to go to Gucci, then Ives Saint Lauren,” Maher said to her sister. “We only have a few hours left in Paris.”
“We must go to Metal Flaque first.”
“Why, that is a bridal shop?”
“I know. I wanted to surprise you. I am to be married.”
“I am so happy for you, Sama. Who is the lucky man?” Maher said as she hugged her older sister. Just sixteen, the dark-haired beauty looked down at her feet. “I do not know. Father has not told me yet.”
“You do not know who your husband will be?”
“No. He is a Prince from the United Arab Emirates, but the Sultan has several sons, and he has not yet finalized his decision.”
“Why are you shopping for a bridal gown now?”
“Oh, I have a gown. It will be our mother’s. We need to find a dress for you and the bridal party. Will you be my maid of honor?”
“Of course I will!” Maher shrieked too loud. A tall, burly man dressed in a black suit entered the fitting room.
“Is everything okay, Princess, Maher?”
“Yes, I am sorry. I am fine.”
Maher and her sister climbed into the backseat of the limo.
“Look, here are pictures of the princes,” Sama said as she pulled out her cell phone. Six handsome men dressed in custom suits and Arab headdresses lined up in an official state photo. “There are six that are single. The youngest is seventeen. The oldest, twenty-eight.”
“Ooh, I like the one in the middle. He is adorable.”
“That is Sinrah. He is twenty-one. He is a student at Cambridge University, and he is studying to be a lawyer.”
“Oh, what about the youngest one?”
“He is Rian. He is an Olympic football player.”
“He has such a rugged, handsome face.”
Sama’s phone rang. She answered, “Yes, mother. We are on our way. Did he? Which one? Okay, thank you.”
Maher saw her sister’s smile disintegrate into a scowl, “What is wrong?”
“My husband will be Sharouk, the eldest son. I will be his fifth wife. I leave for Abu Dhabi in the morning.”
“Why are you sad?”
“I have heard on the internet that he is very mean and treats his wives like possessions. One of his wives tried to escape and seek asylum in Canada, but his security team stopped her.”
“What happened to her?”
“I do not know. She hasn’t been heard from since.”
“You can’t go. You must tell Mother and our uncle no.”
“That is impossible. This is the way. Uncle Farouk will pay a large dowry for the wedding. I will not have a choice.”
Maher buried her head in Sama’s shoulder and broke down in tears, “But there must be something we can do. I will miss you so much.”
But Sama left and was married. Two years passed without a word from her sister. Maher’s mother showed her pictures of Sama’s two daughters, Nura and Layla. However, the Prince wanted a boy. Sama was declared useless and divorced. She returned to Riyadh, a broken woman. Her children, deemed the Prince’s property, were kept in Abu Dhabi.
The morning after her return, Maher found Sama dead in her bedroom. Several bottles of sleeping pills open on the floor next to an empty bottle of scotch.
Maher decided she wasn’t going to be some dreadful Prince’s possession.
She convinced her mother to let her play on the Saudi junior girl’s soccer team that competed all around the Middle East. Professional bodyguards escorted the team, and several of the King’s staff made sure the girls stayed in line. Maher’s mother also traveled with the team.
The final soccer game of the season was held in Amman, Jordan. Maher had become friendly with one of the Jordanian team members, a fifteen-year-old girl named Keera Khalil. She took her with her to the ladies’ bathroom and led her into a stall.
“What are you doing? I do not like girls,” Keera said.
“Do not worry. I want to talk to you, not kiss you. I want to know if you will help me escape from my team. I want to seek asylum.”
“Why? Aren’t you a Princess?”
“Yes, but my Uncle plans to marry me off within the next month to some brute in Qatar. I cannot go. Please help me.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Help me sneak out with your team. I just need to get away from the bodyguards, and then I will find the Canadian embassy. I have sent asylum requests to all Western governments, and they were the only ones that answered. I just have to get to the front gate, and they will let me in.”
“Okay, I will ask my mother to help you.”
Maher hugged the girl, who backed off at first, then hugged her back.
“Don’t worry, I won’t kiss you,” Maher said, laughing.
When the girls left the bathroom, Keera took Maher by the hand and led her to her team’s table, where her mother was eating dinner.
“Mother, you must help my friend,” Keera said. “She is quite ill and needs to see a doctor.”
Keera’s mother, Shinabi Khalil, was a civil rights attorney in Amman and understood more of the story. She also knew a lot about how the Saudi royal families treated their teenage girls. She recently represented a Saudi Princess who fled to Dubai, only to be recaptured by her family. The girl locked herself in a hotel room and demanded asylum.
Shinabi looked around the room, then said, “We must go quickly. My car is parked out back.”
The two girls followed Shinabi through the kitchen and out the back delivery entrance of the restaurant. But as Shinabi pulled out of the parking lot, Maher heard shouting. She looked back to see a Saudi bodyguard pull out a gun and fire.
The back window shattered, spraying glass throughout the interior of the luxury BMW. Shinabi pressed the gas pedal to the floor and sped away.
“Are you girls alright? Are you hurt?”
“No,” Maher an
swered.
“I’m okay too,” said Keera.
“Stay down. The Canadian Embassy is five kilometers away.”
The rush hour traffic in the city was heavy, and Shinabi had difficulty weaving in and out of the congested streets. She took a quick left, then a right, sending the girls sprawling onto the floor.
“I’m sorry,” Shinabi said. “I will try to be more careful.”
Two more gunshots rang out.
Maher peeked out the back window to see a large black Mercedes sedan gaining on them.
“That’s okay. Drive as fast as you want!”
After several more quick direction changes, Shinabi was able to get away from the Saudi gunmen. She pulled into a narrow alleyway and stopped the car.
“Maher, is there somebody you want to call? Your mother, perhaps?”
“No. Nobody can know where I am, or they will be in danger. Please take me to the embassy.”
“Alright. We will be there in a few minutes.”
Shinabi drove up to the large, light-gray embassy building in downtown Amman. A low brick wall topped with barb wire surrounded the modernistic complex. Several uniformed Canadian soldiers manned a gatehouse. But as they approached, a black Mercedes pulled up to the gate. Shinabi stopped half a block away.
“It looks like your Saudi friends beat you here.”
“How can that be?” Maher said. “I didn’t tell anybody.”
“Did you use your cell phone?” Keera said. “Perhaps you can email or text the embassy?”
“I will look. Wait, where is my cell phone? Oh no, I must have left it at the restaurant. That’s how they know. They found my phone. I cannot go there. I must find a different option. Perhaps the Americans?”
“You will come home with us,” Shinabi said. “I will find a way to help you. Now let’s go before they spot us.”
* * *
Gia stopped for a moment to gather her thoughts, “Shinabi took me in. I changed my name to Gia, and a few years later, she adopted me. My uncle found out and demanded I be returned, but the King of Jordan intervened on my behalf. I didn’t see my mother for many years. Then when I worked with the Jordanian Intelligence Agency, I traveled to Riyadh and met her outside the palace.