Shit, Ahmed was starting to cry. Arabic men don’t cry. She’d heard that so many times.
Nicole reached out to him, not voluntarily, but instinctively, like she belonged in his arms. She felt her robe open as they embraced; she felt hot tears on the back of her neck and on her own cheeks.
She wasn’t sure how long they remained in each other’s arms. Long enough for her to worry about being late to meet the others. Of all days in her life, she couldn’t be late today. She pushed away gently and faced him. Seeing the desolate look in his eyes, she told him, “We’ll do whatever’s best for Alex. Right now,” she said,” I need to finish getting ready so we can leave here.”
She fluffed her wet hair and picked up the hair dryer. “You better go now.”
Nicole rushed through all her preparations, counting down to a quick breakfast in the hotel restaurant. They planned to arrive at the Masud home as the family readied for the funeral. Their priorty: locate Alex. Berk had arranged for Nicole, Alex, Natalie, and Rob to leave the compound immediately. He stressed immediately. Ahmed would probably stay for his brother’s funeral. Berk wanted the Nelson contingent quickly out of reach of the entire Masud clan.
“Is everything okay with Ahmed?” Berk asked as soon as Nicole joined him at a table in an alcove off the main breakfast room.
“Yes,” she said, “I think so. Why?” Immediately her suspicions were aroused. Ahmed had betrayed her once. Could he be planning something else?
“He spent time with you this morning. I was wondering whether he had any new insights. And I need to ask you, Nicole, do you trust Ahmed?”
“I do,” she said, “but when you just asked me if everything was okay with him, I felt a twinge …”
“I’m inclined to trust him, too,” Berk said. “In my job, you can trust your instincts only so far. You must plan for a worst-case scenario.”
“Worst case for today was a missing hair dryer, which he solved for me,” Nicole said, pretty sure that the hair dryer delivery was already known to Berk, with his omnipresent agents.
Natalie and Rob approached, both looking amazingly rested.
As they waited for breakfast, Berk again referred to the demonstration materializing now—as they spoke, strengthening in numbers as the word spread aggressively in and around Cairo.
“The sooner I get you all out of the country, the better,” he said as they’d finished a meal that mixed both Western and Egyptian dishes. “But now our objective is Alex.”
Nicole jumped up. Ahmed was heading toward them and he took her arm protectively, as he always had over their years together.
“And, Nicole, there’ll be a surprise waiting for you,” Berk said.
No surprises. All I want is my son back.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
SETH HAD NOT planned on Ahmed’s prolonged and mysterious absence. He wanted him here, in Egypt, so he could dispose of his next oldest brother with relative ease. For Ahmed, Seth had devised a terrible “accident.”
Next, Tebu and Amir, his accomplice at the garage, would be eliminated, too. He could not risk anyone in the family finding out what he had done. Fratricide. Especially not his mother. His parents had been older and tired out after he’d come along. They’d been less strict with him than with his elder siblings, his father all but ignoring him, but he’d always had a healthy respect for—no, more like fear of—his mother. Behind all Umi’s bravado, his wife had a powerful say in family matters.
The role of wives in the compound was not to be discounted.
Seth ticked off Bastet’s counterparts. Jafari’s wife, Aurera: another potent woman—on her own, and often the source of Jafari’s decisions, in business as well as family. So far, she’d shown the appropriate bereavement demeanor for a new widow and mother of four sons and a daughter. But once Jafari’s body was laid to rest, would she resume a dominant position in the family—or try to—or would she have the sense to stay out of Seth’s way? He didn’t care, he could handle either option.
Crucial to Seth among Jafari’s survivors was Mohamed. He’d been Jafari’s first security detail. Mohamed was fiercely loyal, physically formidable, and skilled in weaponry. Mohamed must know of Jafari’s fate. Of course, he’d come back to Cairo for the funeral, but where was he? Jafari had sent him to Uruguay with Ahmed—neither had been heard from since before the garage explosion. What did they know? Had Tebu leaked anything to Mohamed? Seth totally trusted Tebu, but—
“Seth.” Bastet distracted him, calling from the hallway leading to their bedroom. “Will you reconsider our daughters’ permission to attend the funeral service at the mosque today? Their cousins all will be there. I have them in black dresses, long ones, and each has a scarf to cover her face.”
He turned, angry. He’d been through this earlier with Bastet. He did not want to appear with two small girls while Jafari’s offspring included four sons, all strong, attractive, impressive. “I told you before, Bastet, ‘No.’”
“Where are you going?” she asked. “Are you having breakfast with us? We don’t have to leave the house until ten o’clock.”
“I have to leave earlier,” Seth said. “You go with the women.”
“But I want—”
“Right now, I want you to go find out if Neema returned with Ahmed’s son, Wati. She left word that she would have him back here sometime after midnight. Go check with the women. While we are at the mosque, Wati can stay with our daughters. Go make that happen and don’t take anything from Aurera or Merit or Neema. You must assume leadership of the women—deferring to Mother, of course, but today, she will be distraught.”
He and Bastet had discussed their ascendancy in the Masud family. She considered Ahmed an obstacle, but Seth had assured her that Ahmed would go back to America, leaving him in charge. Aurera may try to position her sons; Merit may try to position hers, but to no avail. Seth was—or soon would be—Umi Masud’s only living son.
“Seth, I want to go with you, to be by my husband’s side. I don’t want to arrive with my sisters-in-law; they still treat me as an outsider—a European.”
“Not for long,” Seth said. “I’m on my way to see Father and Mother. To console them and prepare them for Jafari’s service.”
Bastet stepped back into their living quarters. Seth felt quite sure that she would obey, but not completely sure. She had spent seven years in Brussels where women were in every way equal to men.
Again, Seth thought of Ahmed and Mohamed. Where are they?
On the way to his parents’ quarters, Seth noticed an unusually high level of activity. More nurses scurrying about, a few men whom he did not recognize. His father’s doctors, he presumed, getting Father prepped for a highly stressful day—laying to rest his eldest and favorite son. And Father knew that his own funeral would follow in the very near future—hopefully, thought Seth, a bit after the demise of Umi’s second son.
Seth strode to his parents’ apartments, opened the door without invitation, and stepped in to find an older, apparently Western couple, leaning over his father while his mother sat in her usual bedside chair. A handful of nurses surrounded the bed. He stood, unnoticed for the moment. Attention in the parlor-turned-sickroom seemed focused on the woman who was pushing the contents of a syringe into Father’s intravenous tube. She had blond hair and looked vaguely familiar. The man, tall with silver-gray hair, stood beside her, like an assistant. Seth had never seen this man, who clearly did not look Egyptian. What the fuck is going on right under my roof!
“Who are you? And what are you doing?” Seth tried to modulate the higher tone in his voice.
All faces turned toward him, except the blond woman’s. She did not look away from whatever she was putting into Father’s arm.
“Oh, my son Seth,” Mother said. “Come in, Seth. We have some very good news for you.”
The woman kept working the syringe. The tall man left her side and approached Seth. They met midway between the door and Father’s bed.
“I’m Dr.
Tim Robinson,” he said, holding out his hand.
Seth ignored the gesture. “What is happening? What is she doing?”
“That’s my wife, Dr. Laura. She’s giving Mr. Masud an injection of Zomera.”
“Stop whatever is going on. I know nothing of this. Stop right now and leave.” Seth turned to his mother. “Who are these people?”
His mother rose to come to his side. She looked so much older. Frail, even. Father’s illness had taken a toll on her. Back in Belgium, he hadn’t realized how ill his father was, how advanced his cancer.
“Seth, these are Nicole’s parents. They knew about Father’s cancer and they have a drug from America that can cure him.” She stopped herself. “Maybe cure him.” She pointed to a stack of papers. “See, I read the papers—in English. About the side effects. And I signed. Father is getting the drug right now. He’ll need more—”
“Get that needle out of my father,” Seth ordered. “This is my house. I did not approve this poison for my father.”
Seth had not realized it, but his sister Merit had entered the room and now stood by the blond doctor—Ahmed’s wife’s mother? How fucked up was that?
“Seth, this is not your house. We are in Father’s house. Mother and I have approved this treatment for him. I have consulted with his local internist and oncologist and they concur. This drug could cure his cancer.”
“You have no right,” Seth said. “I am—”
“Father fully understands that taking this drug is no guarantee. That there could be side effects, but he decided to try it. It just arrived by overnight flight courier. It’s important to start it now, so please don’t make a fuss.”
Make a fuss? Like a three-year-old kid. Still treating him like a little kid. Little Seth. Of no importance. Just kick him aside.
The woman pulled the syringe out of the tube. Whatever she was shooting into his father had been done. How the hell had she got here? Then he remembered his mother had mentioned that Nicole’s parents were coming. He had totally dismissed it.
Seth couldn’t speak. He was afraid that he’d say something irrevocably horrific. Like: the sooner the old man dies, the better, the faster I take control of the fucking family and its business and its wealth and its power, if it still has any, once the dissidents have their way.
“I’m Laura Robinson.” The woman stood beside her husband between him and his father. “My daughter Nicole is married to your brother. My husband and I came here to catch up with my daughter … and we met your father.”
Seth struggled to maintain control; he wanted to strangle this woman, here and now.
Merit’s husband, Osiris, walked into the room and said nothing as the woman continued. “My other daughter, Natalie, is an executive at the pharmaceutical company that makes this remarkable new drug Zomera and, putting together what I knew of your father and what I knew of Zomera, well, we had the drug flown in overnight, all the paperwork for a Compassionate ‘IND’ completed … and as you have seen, your dad has had his first injection.”
Your dad … We were never allowed to call him dad. And this brazen woman walks in and decides what is best for my father. What do they say in America? Bullshit!
Seth decided to ask, “And where is your daughter’s husband?” He needed to know. To eliminate Ahmed before Father’s death had always been his plan and that wouldn’t change.
Before the woman could answer, his father called his name. Voice still feeble, yet somehow tinged with hope.
“Son, I had to choose. Whether to start this new treatment. Today. Or to go to my eldest son’s funeral. At Mother’s insistence, I chose the treatment.” Father reached for Seth’s hand and gave it a weak squeeze. “You must find Ahmed. He must be there for Jafari. Especially now that I won’t be. Please.”
“I don’t know where my brother is, Father. Jafari sent him to Uruguay. He never came back.”
“But his son is back, little Wati—the child prefers his American name, Alex.”
Where is the kid? Could the five-year-old know where his father is?
“Ahmed loves his son,” Father said. “He will come here for him. I know he will. Find him, Seth. It is my wish that both brothers be there for Jafari’s last appearance on earth.” His father dropped Seth’s hand and turned his head away. Mother and Merit rushed to his side, making comforting sounds.
Seth backed up and stood between Merit and Osiris. “Do you know where Ahmed is?” he asked.
“No,” they each answered.
“Or Mohamed?” Seth asked.
“No,” they repeated.
“Come, Tim, let’s go to Alex.” The woman doctor tugged her husband’s sleeve. Then she turned to look back. “Ahmed will be here, Seth,” she said.
Why the fuck would she say that?
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CHECKING OUT OF the hotel, Ahmed felt all eyes on him. They were in his hometown, going to his home, to see his family to find his son and take him out of Egypt to his former home to live with his wife. At least Nicole was still his wife, but for how long? And on the day of his brother’s funeral. And on a day when riots were predicted in Cairo. Would the revolt reach Giza? He didn’t know. Didn’t care about Egyptian politics. Didn’t care about the Masud family fortunes. Yes, he loved his parents, was more than sad that his father suffered from incurable cancer, wished he could be there with Mother. But Ahmed had decided, no matter what his family’s difficulties, he would leave for the US. Immediately.
He didn’t belong here. Jafari’s family would do well, as would Merit and her prominent husband and their twin sons. When Father passed, Merit would watch over Mother, see to her needs. And as for Seth, he was a total enigma to Ahmed. Seth still had been into kid stuff when Ahmed left for university. Nothing had brought them anywhere near close.
His favorite sibling, the one he cared about, was Neema. She’d always dreamed of living in the US. Maybe now would be a good time for a brotherly discussion with her. He would help her any way he could. So would Nicole—at least Nicole would have, before he betrayed her. He thanked God that Neema had gone to Liberia to rescue her nephew, but how had she known?
“Ahmed!” Berk called to him. “What do you know about your brother Seth’s martial arts ability? I just got information that he’s a member of a highly ranked club in Brussels. Extreme physical training? Weapons?”
“Seth? Nothing like that.” Ahmed stood close to the elevator so he’d be there when Nicole arrived. “Baby of the family. Sort of wimpy. We gave him a hard time. Especially Jafari. Liked to kick him around. Make him cry. Seth into martial arts or weapons? I don’t think so.”
“My report has him into tae kwon do, Aikido, Brazilian jiu-jitsu. Trains at the Fight Club in Brussels. Into weapons. Reputation as a decent marksman.”
Berk had resources everywhere, but Ahmed was sure this information was a mistake—had to be about someone else. Seth was a competent finance guy, handled business matters for the family textile empire. He was about moving assets, not combatant moves.
The elevator door opened, and before Ahmed could say more, Nicole got off. She was with Rob and Natalie. Today the sisters looked a lot alike. The same shade of blond streaky hair—Nicole’s reached her shoulders, just the look he loved, with Natalie’s shorter, more practical—each with aquamarine eyes, same exact shade. Natalie looked more refreshed than last night, but not Nicole. Pure anguish marred her face.
Ahmed reached for Nicole’s arm, but Berk intervened. “I need you up front in the car with me.”
“But—” He wanted to sit beside Nicole. He wanted Alex to see them together.
“You know the roads, the territory. Traffic is going to be dicey today. Protests against the regime. Nonviolent, they say, but who knows. We need to get in, grab your son, hand him over to Nicole immediately—and out.”
“But the funeral—”
“No time. We want your son out. Immediately. No chitchat. We go in, get him, and leave. I have ten men—armed—and we will leave
with your son.” As an aside, he said, “You can stay, of course.”
Ahmed either hadn’t been told or he hadn’t listened to this order of business. He had imagined consoling his parents. Standing with the family at the mosque, saying good-bye, and leaving with Nicole and Alex later in the afternoon.
“The airport is going to be a mess. The earlier we get out, the better—the entire Nelson family. My client called today. Remember, Patrick Nelson is paying for all this. There’s been a new development. Patrick and the brothers want all the Nelsons out of here. And the Robinsons.”
“The Robinsons?” Nicole’s parents? Here?
“Yeah. Yesterday, your wife’s parents arrived, apparently unannounced. We picked them up on surveillance around your family’s compound. They have been inside ever since. Until I informed Patrick, the brothers back home had no idea their parents had paid your parents a visit—stayed overnight. They want Laura and Tim Robinson out. Now. That’s our mission.”
Ahmed could only nod to acknowledge having heard, understood.
“So we go in, grab Alex, corral Nicole’s parents, and leave.”
“Does Nicole know … about her parents?”
“No. Natalie and Rob, either.”
“Why …”
“So, Ahmed,” Berk was unequivocal, “you go in, get your son.”
“Nicole will want to go in with me,” Ahmed said. He felt the heady reality. They would have Alex back in their arms.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
NICOLE VAULTED OUT of the vehicle as soon as it pulled up to the Masud home. She moved fast, too fast even for Berk’s attempt at restraint.
Berk kept saying, “Nicole, I have to tell you something.”
Alex. Alex. Alex.
Nothing else mattered. Not whatever Berk had to say. Not Ahmed trying to slow her down.
At the security gate perimeter, she had expected a series of questions, if not interference. To her surprise, the security staff did not deter them.
Come Home Page 27