Come Home

by Patricia Gussin

  “Nicole, we have to clear Customs,” Berk was saying. “Remember your passport is in Natalie’s name. Natalie Nelson—”

  She hadn’t remembered. “Okay,” she breathed. She had to get through Customs to find Ahmed, to find out what he had done with Alex. Had Berk said Liberia? Impossible. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. Stay in control. Clear Customs. Find Alex. But she thought she’d heard Berk say, “Jafari dead …” I have to get a grip. My son’s life depends on it.

  Nicole found herself getting out of a black sedan, escorted between Rob and Berk into a large, modern airport terminal, almost futuristic in design, more like an oil-rich Arab country.

  The trio managed to get through Immigration and Customs—no delay. Once they were inside the Arrivals terminal, Rob suggested they sit down, and indicated a coffee shop nearby.

  “She has to understand,” she heard Rob tell Berk.

  She was off the plane, she knew that, but what had happened, what had been said after Berk’s first …

  “Go ahead, tell her while I make some calls,” Berk said, walking away.

  Rob chose the most secluded table and sat her down. “Nicole, I know how shaken you are. I am, too, but you have to understand. I don’t think you heard much of what Berk told us back on that plane.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I …”

  “He said: Alex was not with Ahmed when the plane landed here.”

  “Okay, yes, I did hear that. Rob, did he say where Alex is?”

  “Berk’s men were waiting at the airport. They were unable to apprehend them there so they followed them to—”

  “Rob,” Nicole interrupted, knowing the futility of her question. “Alex was with them, right?”

  She felt Rob grasp both of her shoulders. “No, Nicole. You have to accept this. Alex did not get off that plane.”

  “Then where is he?” She could not control her scream. She yanked out of Rob’s hold.

  Bystanders turned to stare, but not missing a beat, went on about their lives.

  Rob pointed through the crowds to Berk as he paced in the vicinity of the terminal doors, speaking into his satellite phone.

  “Berk is trying to find out …”

  She had heard Berk, the investigator, say Liberia. Brazil. But she’d chosen to discount those countries. “So, they must have left him back in Egypt? The servants at the compound were mistaken …”

  “Nicole, did you hear Berk say Jafari is dead? Killed in a car explosion—about a half an hour ago.”

  “Rob, I don’t care about Jafari. Where is Ahmed and where is Alex?”

  “Did you hear what Berk said about what happened in Punta del Este?”

  “Punta—what?” she asked. Why had she zoned out on the plane? She needed to stay alert.

  “His agents followed Ahmed and that guy Mohamed to a mansion in a resort town an hour and a half out of Montevideo. How Ahmed stole a car and got away on his own. Berk’s men picked up Mohamed. They have him. Interrogated him—”

  “What did he say about Alex?”

  “Nothing. Yet. They’re bringing him in. Here. To a place near the airport. For further interrogation.”

  “Are the police involved?” Nicole asked, not knowing whether they should or should not be.

  “Looks like Berk wants this off law enforcement radar. For now.”

  “Ahmed?” she asked.

  “At this point …”

  Nicole slumped forward, elbows on the table, head in hands. Liberia and Brazil came back to haunt her. What had Ahmed done?

  Berk’s return disturbed the silence at the small table amidst the hubbub of a teeming airport terminal. He delivered a terse report, as if in bullet points.

  He had hired more men to scout the airport for Ahmed in the event that he returned to Montevideo to fly out today.

  Information acquired at the Masud home in Giza put Ahmed in South America now, to personally set up a series of banking relationships. Tomorrow, when banks were open, surveillance at major South American bank headquarters in key cities would be ready to intercept him, should he appear. These operations would involve lots of personnel, but Berk reminded them that Patrick Nelson had authorized unlimited resources.

  Thank you, Patrick, my little brother.

  Berk had spoken to the Nelson family. Nicole realized that Eastern time was only one hour different from Uruguay time. So it would be ten forty-five at home. Two or three hours earlier for Patrick in Vegas; she could never remember if Nevada was West Coast or Mountain Time. Never mind. What was Berk saying?

  The family was worried. About Alex, of course. About her. And now—Natalie. Incommunicado.

  “Natalie?” Rob leaned toward Berk. “What—”

  Berk said they’d last talked to her yesterday, Saturday. She was in her office. Since then, off everyone’s radar. She’d not checked in with her brothers. Nor her boss, nor her staff at work—during a crisis around one of their important drugs. No contact, either, with their mother, Laura, who was advising her on Keystone’s FDA input for the drug with the problem—whatever that was—Berk had agents in the States check local airports, and run Natalie’s debit and credit card accounts—was that even legal? Nicole didn’t know or care—Where was her sister?

  Nicole grabbed for Rob’s hand. His palm was sweaty and he seemed unable to find words. He was worried speechless. If anyone loved his wife, it was Rob. Naturally, he’d be protective. Would he abandon her and the search for Alex to try to find Natalie?

  A waitress came by. Rob gestured for her to go away, but Nicole changed the signals, ordered coffee for everyone. She needed caffeine to think. What was going on? Alex, then Ahmed, now Natalie, missing?

  “Rob,” Berk was saying. “In my judgment, you needn’t worry. I’m sure your wife is fine. Went to stay with a friend.”

  “No. Natalie would never just take off. She’s not impetuous. I can’t think of anyone other than her family she’d stay with … unless it would be my daughter, her stepdaughter … if my daughter needed her.”

  “I can see Natalie going there,” Nicole said to calm Rob. “Her good stepmom role is up there on her priorities. With Leslie getting married, I’m sure—”

  “We’ll check in with your daughter,” Berk assured Rob. Then he went on to tell them in detail—as much as he knew—about the car bomb that killed Jafari.

  No love lost between Nicole and her brother-in-law—nor Aurera, his imperious wife—but her heart went out to Harere and Umi Masud. Jafari was their patriarch-in-waiting. And the waiting may not be long. For her in-laws, now the heir apparent had to be—Ahmed! As of now, the eldest Masud son was her husband, her business partner, her son’s father. What did that mean for Alex? For her? Would she ever get Alex out of Egypt?

  Out of Egypt? Out of Uruguay? Where was her son? Again, Liberia and Brazil came to mind—unwelcome. For an instant, she prayed for Brazil. God, let him be in Brazil, not Liberia.

  “Help me on this, Nicole.” Berk’s voice. She’d zoned out again. “Tell us what you know about the man named Mohamed. We know he works security for the Masud family.”

  “I’ve known him since the first time I came to Egypt with Ahmed. In 2002, shortly after we were married.” She hesitated, remembering how impressed she’d been that her husband’s family had a bodyguard.

  “So, for at least nine years?” Berk clarified.

  “This guy Mohamed,” Rob said, “has something to do with my wife?”

  Nicole could identify with Rob’s shock. He had not yet had a chance to process Natalie’s disappearance. Could she have flown to Egypt to be with him? Unfortunately, not a question Nicole could begin to answer.

  “Anything you can tell us may help,” Berk prompted her.

  “Back then, the Masud family had taken over a lot of businesses thanks to their relationship with Hosni Mubarak and his son Gamal. There were reprisal threats, Ahmed said. So they hired security. Mohamed was the first bodyguard; each time I visited, there were more. But I always had the impression
that Mohamed was their supervisor and boss.”

  “The family does have a sizable security team,” Berk said. “And exactly, Mohamed is in charge. He’s become Jafari’s personal bodyguard. Goes everywhere with him. So, why would he have been sent to guard your husband and son? By all accounts, your husband is not a violent man, a man apt to run into enough serious stuff in South America to justify protection by the family’s head of security.”

  For an instant, Nicole could literally feel Alex’s anguish. This was how her concentration failed, and she lost her composure. She’d be okay, then feel a surge—Alex, alone, somewhere—needing her. Where was he? Who was he with? Was he safe? Was he scared?

  Tears filled her eyes, and Rob reached to take her hand. “We’ll find Alex,” he said.

  “Did you know any of the other security staff?” Berk asked her. “Like who would be next in command, Mohamed’s backup?”

  Nicole shook her head. She could hardly pronounce Arab names much less remember them. Mohamed wasn’t hard, though—at least half the men in the Middle East seemed to be named Mohamed.

  “Does the name Tebu ring a bell?”

  “No. Why?”

  “He seems to be in charge, now, with Mohamed away. How about Amir? He was Jafari’s chauffeur today. He was in the parking garage, but far enough from the explosion to be uninjured.”

  “I don’t know much about Masud family security, Berk. When I stayed there with Ahmed, I spent all my time with the women.” Nicole swiped at a trickle of tears with the back of one hand. “I wish now I’d paid more attention. Ahmed never talked about security issues, but he did say that his family was concerned about ‘the situation’ in Egypt. Having to do with a social media movement building against Mubarak. I—”

  Berk’s phone interrupted.

  “Got it,” he said. “One hour.”

  To Nicole and Rob, he said, “Mohamed will be here within the hour. We can take him to a warehouse just past the airport. He must know where Alex is, Nicole.”

  “Natalie …” Rob didn’t articulate his question.

  Berk reached into his wallet, pulled out a wad of pesos for the waitress, and slapped them on the table.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  SUNDAY, JANUARY 23, 2011

  MONTEVIDEO AIRPORT

  “I HAVE MY passport, nothing else.” Ahmed had no time to explain why his belongings, his money, were not in his possession. Of course, Natalie was confused. But he needed her help. Now.

  “I hate to ask you this, but if you can pay for the flight, I can leave right now. Natalie, they left Alex in Monrovia.”

  “Ahmed, what happened? My brothers said you left Cairo with Alex. He’s in Monrovia? Isn’t that in Liberia? Who left him there?”

  Ahmed glanced over at the departure board again. “The Air France flight is leaving in a half hour,” he said. “Alex is in Monrovia, all by himself. I have to be on that plane, Natalie. A man who works for my family took him off the private jet when we landed there. He was crying, ‘Daddy, Daddy …’”

  “Look, Ahmed. My family doesn’t know I’m here. They’ll find out soon, but for now—”

  Ahmed pointed at the board. “The only flight. I have to make it. No choice. I must go to Alex.”

  “You do know that Nicole and Rob went to Egypt,” Natalie said. “They went to your house—”

  “Nicole was in Giza?” Ahmed gasped. He had been wondering why no one from the Nelson family had shown up there yet. “And Rob, did you say? Your Rob?” He had expected one of Nicole’s macho brothers—any one of the three, or all—to show up in Egypt and try to get Alex. But his brother-in-law Rob? Rob, hardworking, steady, but not your aggressive bring-it-on type.

  “Yes. My Rob. Still hard for me to believe. Nicole needed support. He went with her to Egypt to get Alex, bring him home. And now they’re about to—come here—”

  “Here?” Ahmed echoed. What had his family told Nicole? How had they treated her? How many of them knew that Alex had been left in Monrovia?

  He tried to focus, but Natalie continued nonstop, “Patrick actually lent us Monica Monroe’s security guy; he is working with Rob and Nicole. Guy’s name is Berk and he has experience in renditions, agents all over—internationally—that kind of expertise. Rob was impressed. And Berk said Rob would be useful. His company—well, you know about the bankruptcy. So I think Rob did want to do something useful.”

  “Natalie, please—do you have your credit card?” Ahmed interrupted. “I need to be on that flight!” Clutching his passport, he pointed to the Air France flight to Monrovia that left in thirty minutes. “They left Alex there. I have to find him. I have no money, no—”

  “But Nicole and Rob will be here and we—”

  Nicole and Rob—where? Ahmed didn’t have time to figure out what Natalie was saying. “There are two stops en route,” he said. “Don’t know how many hours total. I need to go to my son. All my fault. Once I’m on that flight, call your family. Tell them my brother Jafari planned this to force me to do what he wanted. On Jafari’s orders, Alex was left somewhere in Monrovia, Liberia. I must find him. Now. Please, Natalie, buy me a ticket so I can be on that flight!”

  Natalie’s hand on his arm. “But I know people in Liberia.” Her eyes flashed. “Powerful people! Through Rob—Valley Forge Military Academy—”

  “Please, Natalie, that plane leaves in twenty minutes. Get me on it.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  MOHAMED ALREADY HAD been interviewed in Punte del Este, Berk pointed out—and had given up almost zero. “This contact has to be productive—the time window is rapidly closing.” Odds of locating Alex didn’t improve as the hours passed. Berk told Rob and Nicole he did not want them involved in the interrogation that he, Berk, would shortly conduct.

  Fine, Rob agreed. Berk knew his stuff.

  But Nicole had persisted. Said she knew Mohamed and maybe she could connect with him. She said she always had felt safest in Egypt when he was present. She was certain she could be useful, and, yes, she wanted him with her. Berk didn’t seem convinced—but as Rob well knew, the client-right-or-wrong policy sometimes has to prevail. For her own sake, he dearly hoped Nicole’s instinct was right.

  They had been driven in a nondescript van out of the airport to a nearby group of big box-style buildings, typical of the multipurpose warehouses familiar to Rob. Two large men—like Berk, wearing black—had been waiting in the van. They explained how their other team had apprehended Mohamed in Punta del Este. How they’d followed Mohamed and Ahmed from the airport to a Gold Coast–type mansion. How Ahmed had casually walked out of there, carrying a full plate of food and a coffee mug. Went right up to the parked limo. No sign of the driver, who’d left the vehicle in the driveway unlocked. Keys apparently in the ignition. Ahmed had simply driven off.

  At that, Nicole interrupted. “They didn’t get him?” She knew the answer, couldn’t contain her frustration. “Then how are we going to find Alex?”

  The briefing continued: there’d been two agents; one car. They had to make a decision. Masud family security chief or Ahmed? Mohamed had to be a better asset to the investigation. Mohamed would know what had happened to the child. Ahmed—maybe not.

  “Just tell me,” Nicole said, “is Alex back in Egypt with the Masud family?”

  Berk turned from his seat in the front. “Remember, Nicole, when we are questioning Mohamed, we have one intent. Find Alex. Make sure he’s safe.”

  “And make sure I can take him back home with me,” Nicole added.

  As the five of them were about to enter the room where Berk’s agents had taken Mohamed, Rob squeezed Nicole’s hand. “It’ll be okay,” he murmured.

  But would it? This Mohamed guy worked for the Masud family. Where would his loyalties fall now that Jafari had been blown up in a car explosion—despite their bodyguards and stringent security measures?

  They took over a conference room tucked away in the corner of the utilitarian building. No frills. Just a rectangu
lar table surrounded by ten straight-back chairs. A large, angry-looking bearded man sat upright in one of the chairs, ankles manacled, hands cuffed behind the chair. Berk’s two men positioned themselves on either side of him, and Berk gestured for Nicole and Rob to sit opposite Mohamed at the table.

  Berk began, “Mohamed, you know Nicole, Ahmed Masud’s wife.”

  Mohamed grunted. As evidence of a connection, not so promising.

  “With her is her brother-in-law. We are here to find Nicole’s son, Alex.”

  Rob noted that Berk had not mentioned his name. Intentional? Or an oversight?

  “We traveled from Cairo,” Berk continued. “The family there informed us that Ahmed Masud had taken Alex here, to Uruguay. Masud chartered aircraft. We observed that the child did not get off the aircraft with you and Ahmed. Where is he?”

  Another grunt from the big man.

  Berk moved closer to him. “No one knows you’re here,” he said. “Not the Masud family in Cairo. Not Ahmed. Not the authorities. If we make you disappear—and we can, of course—you’ll never see Egypt again. I don’t know if you have a family or not, loved ones, but you simply will have disappeared in South America. The Masuds will assume that’s how you planned it. That you—”

  “Where is Ahmed?” The question came from Mohamed in accented but understandable English. He sounded moderately curious, not urgently so.

  “We have him,” Berk said.

  Rob noticed how carefully Berk scrutinized Mohamed’s reaction to this lie. He saw Nicole’s eyebrows raise, but thankfully, she said nothing.

  “Ahmed will tell Jafari that you tried to shake him down, take the liquid assets, and disappear to a life of South American luxury.” Berk stopped there. Testing. Had Mohamed learned of Jafari’s fate?

  “Jafari would never believe that,” Mohamed retorted. His attempt at a shrug cut off by his bound hands. “Jafari knows that his brother Ahmed is a coward. That’s why he—” He stopped, eyeing Nicole.

  Nicole pushed back her chair and stood. “Where is my son?” she demanded.

  “Ask your husband,” he said.