Identity

by Nancy Ann Healy

  “What are you talking about?” Eleana asked.

  Claire ignored the question. I hope I didn’t screw up and tell him I needed more sheets or something.

  A man pointed to a door at the far corner of the room. “Down the stairs and to the right,” he replied.

  Claire nodded and continued on.

  “What do you need towels for?” Eleana asked.

  “Oh, good! I always screw up towels and sheets,” Claire replied. “I have no idea where I’m going,” she told Eleana. “Let’s just hope it’s in the right direction. Otherwise, you might have to give me cooking lessons. We both know that won’t end well for anyone.” She followed the man’s directions until she reached the bottom of the stairs. A small storage closet sat to her right. The door was propped open. “That’s not it.” She looked down the hallway. “There are two doors up ahead,” she told Eleana. “I think one of them might be for maintenance. I’m going to check that one first.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Why does everyone always tell me to be careful?” Claire griped. She reached the door and was surprised to find it unlocked.

  “Well?” Eleana urged.

  “I don’t know yet.” Claire stepped through and onto another set of stairs. “I think this leads to the basement.”

  “A step in the right direction.”

  “Yeah.” Claire climbed down the stairs and directly into the middle of a boiler room. She shed her kitchen uniform and stuffed it into a crevice beneath one of the boilers. “This place is massive,” she said. “I guarantee you they are heating more than that restaurant.”

  “Is anyone down there?”

  “Not that I see.” Claire walked forward, scanning the walls and the floor. “This goes on forever,” she said. “Too bad your friend, Nadia doesn’t have a friend in maintenance. This is like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “Just—”

  “Don’t say, be careful,” Claire warned. She navigated a small opening between the boiler systems and made her way to the opposite wall. Several feet in the distance, she noticed another steel door. “Here’s hoping.”

  WESTPORT, CONNECTICUT

  Cassidy decided to take a detour. She rapped lightly on the guestroom door.

  “Come in, Cassie,” Rose called out.

  “Mom?”

  Rose patted the bed and directed Cassidy to sit. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,”

  “For what?”

  “That your father is who he is,” she said.

  “Did he tell you anything?”

  “He told me why you called,” Rose replied.

  “That’s all he said?”

  “I told him that you never should have had to call. And, I told him that if he had any sense, and any decency, and if he hoped that he’d share my bed again, he would answer your questions truthfully. All of them.”

  “I’m so tired, Mom.”

  “It’s late.”

  “It’s not that,” Cassidy said. “It’s all starting again—all of it. Maybe it never stopped.”

  Rose pulled Cassidy into her arms. “Alex will be all right.”

  “Physically, maybe. What about Claire? What about El? Or Pip? What about you?”

  “You don’t need to worry about me,” Rose said.

  “No? This madness has caused you as much hurt as it has anyone.”

  “Life is mad, Cassie,” Rose replied. “Our madness might be different from the family’s next door, but there is always madness. Don’t let that sour you, honey.”

  “Why can’t he be honest?”

  “Because he’s afraid,” Rose said.

  “Of what?”

  “Himself, if I had to guess. The truth. His truth.” Rose sighed. “I can accept the past. I don’t have a choice. I don’t have to accept his avoidance now, and I won’t.”

  Cassidy rested her head on her mother’s chest and cried.

  Rose held her daughter and rocked her gently. “And, I can’t forgive him for this,” she said.

  “I should go downstairs and see him.”

  “No,” Rose disagreed. “Rest here,” she said. “Let it go for now. He has a decision to make. Give him the space to decide.”

  NATICK, MASSACHUSETTS

  “Anything?” Alex asked her brother.

  Jonathan pointed to his laptop screen. “Lots of tourist Visas,” he said.

  “Destination, Kaliningrad?”

  “Seems that way. I think the key will be discovering who these folks are, Alex.”

  “Any patterns?”

  “No. Virtually every country is represented. There’s only one common thread I can say at a glance.”

  “Which is?”

  “A common sponsor,” Jonathan began. “Hotel Bismarck.”

  “Interesting.”

  “It is. Do you know what is also interesting?”

  Alex shook her head.

  “Free, electronic, expedited Visas for the area.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Not even a little bit. All on the hotel website.”

  Russian Visas for tourists typically took four to five weeks to process. Visas required a host—a person, tour company, school, employer, or a hotel. Free was not a word associated with obtaining a travel Visa to the country. When agents traveled to Russia, it was with the aid of a foreign passport from a country that did not have Visa requirements; usually, Israel, Estonia, or the UAE. It assured that no sponsor was necessary. Not every corporation had the time or influence to provide false passports. Creating an easy vehicle for quick travel told Alex that something more than tourism was happening in Kaliningrad.

  “Keep digging. What did Cass say when she called?”

  “You’re not going to like it,” he warned her.

  “Because that would be new.”

  “Jim said he had an ally based in Kaliningrad. Want to guess that ally’s field of expertise?”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “Biological psychology,” Krause told her.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “That’s what Cassie said he told her.”

  “Why would a biological psychologist be based there?”

  Krause grimaced. “He also mentioned SEED.”

  “Why didn’t he tell me this?”

  “I’m more curious about what else he’s left out.”

  “That son-of-a-bitch was still running the program,” Alex said. “He wasn’t hiding out in Siberia.”

  “I have to admit that was my first thought too.”

  “Jesus. They could be up to anything down there. If I so much as utter the word, biological to Candace, she’s going to wonder if Rodgers is right.”

  “Probably.”

  “Shit. I hope Claire finds something we can use.”

  “I hope no one finds Claire.”

  Alex gripped the bridge of her nose and pinched forcefully. “Shit.”

  WESTPORT, CONNECTICUT

  The swirling liquid in his glass reminded Jim McCollum of his life, always moving and going nowhere. Everyone had questions. He could give answers. Explanations were seldom accepted unless they met expectation, and everyone he’d ever known asked questions with a presumption of the truth. It was the inherent flaw in a system and a world that claimed it held a presumption of innocence. It didn’t; simply because human inclination was to assume accusation was warranted by guilt. No one ever prosecuted a case by asking questions to satisfy curiosity.

  “Jim?” Edmond asked.

  “Hello, Edmond.”

  “What are you doing calling at this time of night?”

  “I think you’ll find it is morning for us both.”

  “Has something happened?” Edmond asked.

  “It’s time.”

  Edmond Callier looked out the window at the garden below. “Are you certain?”

  “There’s no other way,” McCollum said. “They are as determined as we were, only smarter and more diligent.” He swirled the whiskey in his glass again.
“There is nothing we can offer them that will satisfy their need. They have to discover it for themselves.”

  “They will never accept it.”

  “No. Why would they? Could we?” McCollum asked.

  “I thought this was behind them,” Callier commented.

  “No. You hoped. We both did.”

  “I pray they forgive us.”

  McCollum lifted the glass in his hands to his lips and savored the burn in his throat that followed. If only I were a praying man.

  KALININGRAD, RUSSIA

  “Jesus,” Claire mumbled.

  “Are you in?” Eleana asked.

  “Yeah, but I don’t know what the hell I’m into. Christ, El, this place is a maze. There’s got to be miles of tunnels down here.”

  “Typical.”

  “This might be old. It sure looks new.”

  “Any signs of life?”

  “A few carts. Lights.” Claire kept walking. “No people. Not yet. They’ve been here recently, though. There’s some oil on the ground. It definitely came from a vehicle. There has to be another way in and out of this place.”

  “Probably more than one,” Eleana said. “Look for any sign of a chamber. The Nazi’s built their tunnels to house manufacturing.”

  Claire came to a crossroads. “Three options, El, right, left, or forward.”

  “Which way leads toward the water?” Eleana asked.

  “Left. I think,” Claire said.

  “Go left.”

  Claire continued down the left tunnel. The sound of voices in the distance caught her attention. “Good call.”

  “Do you see something?”

  “More like I hear something. Can’t make out the words. Let’s hope there’s some place to duck and cover.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Are you suddenly superstitious?” Eleana teased.

  Claire remained silent, tuning into the voices in the distance. “They’re not speaking Russian.”

  “Can you tell what language it is?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not Russian,” Claire said. “It think it’s Finnish.”

  Eleana groaned. Not good. “I can’t help you there, Claire. Polish, German, Russian—almost any language in the area. Cross the Baltic, and I’m afraid I’m no better than Lonely Planet.”

  Claire chuckled despite the situation. “Great. Why the hell would they be talking Finnish?”

  “I don’t know. Finland and Germany have a storied history.”

  “Yeah, I don’t need a history lesson. I need a translator. And, last I checked we were in Russia.”

  “Can you get closer to them without being seen?”

  “That’s the idea,” Claire said. She moved forward. She was relieved to see a door in the wall ahead. “Think I found a spot. Fuck. What the hell needs to be locked up down here? Damn.” Claire looked ahead to where the voices were approaching. She reached into her pocket, retrieved a small tool, and went to work on the lock. She sighed with relief when it clicked. “I’m in.”

  “In where?”

  “I don’t know yet. It’s dark in here. Three voices, I think. Maybe four.”

  Eleana strained to listen to the background.

  “Finnish,” Claire muttered. “Why not French or German? Can you get Alex? Fast?” Claire asked. “If anyone will be able to put this together, it’s her.”

  “I’m on it.”

  ***

  Alex picked up Eleana’s call immediately. “What’s wrong?”

  “Claire’s fine.”

  “You?”

  “I’m at a safe distance. She’s inside. We have a problem. They’re speaking Finnish. Neither of us can decipher the conversation quickly. Can you translate?” Eleana asked.

  “Finnish is not my strength,” Alex confessed. “But I can probably get the major points. If she needs to converse—I’ll do what I can.”

  Eleana addressed Claire. “I’ve got Alex. Repeat what you can hear.”

  “Jesus. She speaks Finnish too?”

  Alex heard Claire and laughed. “Not well.”

  “You’ve got a better shot than me and Claire put together,” Eleana told Alex.

  “That might not say much,” Alex confessed.

  “Let’s hope they say something you can understand,” Claire commented.

  “Let’s hope.”

  WESTPORT, CONNECITICUT

  Cassidy woke up on the bed next to her mother. It was almost five. She wondered if she would find her father in the same position she’d left him. Maybe she should let it all go. She told him the truth. She didn’t want to know what his life was like in Russia. She wasn’t interested in the things he did for the CIA, or any other group. She was tired of acronyms and disgusted by explanations that offered no justification. She could try to sweep it all aside—again. She could pretend that it didn’t matter. She couldn’t go back in time, and neither could her father. The past did more than haunt Cassidy’s life. It continued to creep into the present. She needed to know why. There were two people she believed held the answer, her father and Edmond Callier. Cassidy crept quietly from the guestroom and back down the stairs to the kitchen. The backdoor was open. Jim McCollum sat on the patio, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

  “A little early for that, isn’t it?” she asked.

  He raised the glass. “Better to be too early than too late,” he replied.

  Cassidy took a seat across from him. “I don’t understand.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to understand things no one is capable of comprehending.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “Cassie, no good will come of all these questions you are all determined to keep asking.”

  “No good for us or no good for you?” she asked.

  “No good for anyone. The answers won’t lead to solutions. You can’t stop it.”

  “It?”

  “The world,” he said.

  “I’m not sure you and I live in the same world, Dad.”

  “We do. You see it from a different angle. You and Alex, you still think there is something called right, and something called wrong.”

  “Because there is.”

  “Is that so?”

  Cassidy watched her father sip the whiskey in his hand. She pulled her legs onto the Adirondack chair, and wrapped her arms around them.

  “Are you cold?” Jim asked.

  Cassidy ignored the question. “You think that I’m some saint, or that I strive to be some saint. You think that Alex is out to save the world.”

  He tipped his glass to her.

  Cassidy shook her head. “You’re wrong. Neither of us thinks we can save the world. We just want a better one for our kids than the one we live in.”

  “And, you don’t think that’s what I want for you?”

  “I don’t know what you want,” Cassidy said. “I think you’re too afraid of what you might lose to consider what anyone else needs.”

  “What do you want from me?” he asked.

  “What I always wanted,” she replied. “A father who loves me more than his work. A father I could trust to tell me the truth.”

  “Truth is a funny thing, Cassie.”

  “It can be,” she agreed. “Tell me something; everything you’ve done—leaving, the lies, coming back here into our lives—was it all because you loved us, and you saw no alternative? Was it? Or have you spent so many years telling yourself that lie that you actually believe it?”

  “Possibly both.”

  “Dad, Alex and Claire won’t let this go. One thing I know about them both, they don’t quit. That’s why they’ve agreed to help Candace. They never quit. They’ve tried—both of them, to walk away and start over. They can’t.”

  “They can,” he said.

  “Have you?” she asked him.

  He snapped to attention.

  Cassidy nodded. “No. You didn’t leave only to protect me. You didn’t stop; did you? You weren’t hidin
g away out of fear. You found a way to bury the truth and yourself with it, so that you could keep going without me in the mix. Did Alex’s father know? Edmond?”

  Jim McCollum hung his head. “You don’t understand.”

  Cassidy stretched out and reached her feet. “Maybe, for the first time, I do.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “You can keep digging that hole, Dad. You can try to cover it up.”

  “Sooner or later someone will uncover it,” he finished her thought.

  “Or fall through the cracks it leaves,” she said. “Don’t drink all of Alex’s whiskey,” she advised “You might need some when she gets back.”

  KALININGRAD, RUSSIA

  “Profiles? Are you sure he said profiles?” Claire questioned.

  “Monia profiileja,” Alex repeated the phrase. “Many profiles.”

  Claire opened the door she hid behind and looked down the long corridor “I think they’re gone.”

  “There could be more people down there,” Eleana reminded her.

  “No kidding.” Claire looked to her left; the corridor seemed to spiral up ahead. She closed the door and turned on the flashlight of her cell phone. “Light, light, light. More light.” A switch hid behind a few jugs of liquid cleaner that sat on a shelf. “Ah, light!”

  “What do you see?” Alex asked.

  “Mostly, cleaning supplies. Hold on. What the fuck?”

  “What is it?” Eleana asked.

  “B-Helix is an American company, right? El? Alex? It is, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” Alex chimed.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Claire mumbled.

  “What about B-Helix?” Alex asked.

  “There are three jackets on a rack in here. They all have the B-Helix logo.”

  Alex pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Alex?”

  “What else can you see?” Alex asked.

  “Looks like there’s another door behind that coat rack.”

  “Can you open it?” Alex asked.

  “Can I open the door—that’s never the question.” Claire moved the jackets aside and shined her light. “Code panel. Fuck. Just great.”

  “Can you bypass it?” Eleana asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t want to trip any alarms. I need to go to Plan B.”

  “Which is?” Eleana asked.

  “Find someone with a key card.”