When the Mirror Cracks

by Jan Coffey

  Another man comes to help him, and I’m lifted like a writhing, twisting sack of potatoes. All my fighting and squirming comes to nothing as they shove me face down in the back seat of the car in front. One of them wrenches my hands behind me and zip ties are wrapped tight around my wrists and ankles. They gag me with a rag and jam a burlap bag over my head.

  No gunshots were fired, but I’m worried about my driver. I heard her screaming too, and I don’t know if they’re putting her in the other car or leaving her there.

  It’s hard to breathe, and my heart is beating so hard that I think it will rip a hole in my chest any second. They stuff me down on the floor of the back seat and cover me with something that feels as heavy as a rug.

  In the midst of my panic, what Kyle told me yesterday comes to me. The kill list with Elizabeth’s name on it. This is why I’m being kidnapped.

  Moments later, car doors slam, and we’re speeding through the streets. I have no idea where they’re taking me. The only sound I hear is the electronic techno music they’ve cranked up loud enough to drown out any muffled cries for help. The beat matches my pounding heart, which is about to explode with fear. I don’t know what is going to happen to me, but my brain is going haywire with imaginings that are nasty and final.

  A memory of my accident from two months ago cuts into my thoughts. I recall two things happening while I was in the middle of it—the feeling of extreme vulnerability, and the sensation that everything was inevitable. I couldn’t stop time or the cars that were about to hit me, no matter what I did. It’s the same feeling now. It must be what a rabbit experiences the moment before the coyote’s jaws clamp down. There’s nothing I can do to stop this. My fate is no longer in my hands.

  I try to listen to the few words that I can hear over the music.

  “Gidelim. Sol.”

  “Kızdı.”

  I recognize the last word. It means ‘angry’. Someone is angry.

  “Sonraki sokak.”

  Sokak means ‘street’.

  We drive and drive until it feels like I’ve been in this car for an eternity. I don’t know if I’m still in Istanbul. I could already be outside the city. I could be halfway to hell.

  Suddenly, the car jerks to a stop and doors open. The thing that covers me is thrown back, and I’m dragged out and hauled like dead weight into a building. They yank me along a passageway that smells damp and moldy. We go into what feels like a larger room. A heavy door squeaks open. One of them pulls the bag off my head, shoves me in, and slams the door shut.

  I lie there on the floor, listening to them talking as they move away. Then another distant door closes. A chair scrapes in the room outside my door. Then all the noise dies.

  My heart struggles to find a rhythm. My eyes are slowly getting accustomed to the light. My entire body is trembling. I wonder if I’m in shock. Another memory flashes through my mind. Autumn’s peaceful face. She looks to be sleeping. But I know she’s dead.

  Am I dead too? I blink back the tears clouding my vision and focus on my surroundings. I’m alive…for the time being.

  The room is small. Ancient rusted pipes come out of one wall, run the length of the dark ceiling, and disappear into the opposite wall. A dim bulb hangs at the end of a thin wire in a corner. It’s the only source of light in the room. There are no windows. No furniture. The walls are bare, and layers of paint are flaking off the wall.

  The zip ties on my wrists are so tight that my fingers have gone numb. One of my legs is cramping. The smell of mold is just part of a whole bouquet of rotten odors. I landed on a filthy rug that smells of urine and vomit and God knows what else. It’s stained with dark spots. I don’t want to think what might have caused them.

  I squirm around until I’m able to push myself into a sitting position. A cold, wet droplet hits me on my forehead and runs into my eye.

  I blink a few times in panic and inch backward until I’m against the cold wall. I count my breaths and try to calm the wild beating of my heart.

  I think back to the emails in Jax’s files and try to recall the contents. I should have paid more attention to Kyle’s warning of what was on the dark web. I should have been smarter, more vigilant.

  Dying has never frightened me. Even during my accident, I only worried about the baby. But maybe it’s the idea of a violent death that terrifies me now. I don’t believe I’ll ever walk out of this room again. And there’s no doubt in my mind that my abduction is directly tied to the hit list containing Elizabeth’s name.

  They have me, and I have a feeling I’m the worm wriggling on the barbed hook. They expect that she’ll take the bait. And then, they’ll reel their trophy in.

  Another drop of water falls from the pipe onto the rug.

  A snippet of a different memory comes back, the same one that has played and replayed in my brain for years. I’m sure I’d be devastated if something tragic happened to Christina. But I’d recover.

  Those words of Elizabeth’s are more relevant now than ever.

  But I’d recover.

  Huddled against that wall, I wonder what she’ll do when they contact her. And I’m certain they will. Would she try to negotiate for my release? Would she put her own life in danger? Would she die for me?

  Elizabeth is the same person who left behind a sick child and took another mother’s healthy one in its place. The thought doesn’t fill me with optimism.

  There’s a pattern in the way she’s always lived her life. Her existence is safe and privileged. She treats life like some produce she’s brought home a week ago from the grocery store. This peach has a spot. This apple is bruised. This banana is already turning brown. I’ll take them back and get replacements. She gave birth to a baby who turned out to be sick, but she knew exactly how she wanted to handle it. And she recovered. She’ll recover after me too.

  Once the kidnappers reach out to her, my guess is that she’ll turn the problem over to Kyle.

  And what will he do? Kyle who already has plans of moving on to a new job and a new life in Japan. My mind is clear enough to recognize that I’ve already burned the bridge in our relationship and decimated whatever soft spot he might have once had for me. There is no going back on that one. He has no reason to stick out his neck. He’ll contact the Istanbul Police and the US Consulate, and they’ll all have a nice, sparsely attended memorial service for me back in California. I’m pretty sure they’ll never recover my remains from the Bosphorus or wherever it is they dispose of bodies here.

  Zari and Tiam are the only ones who will truly miss me. The only ones who will mourn my loss. Their faces linger in my mind. My family.

  How pathetic and maddening that Elizabeth should get away with robbing us of the lives we were intended to live thirty years ago, and now she’ll do it again.

  Another drop of water falls, spattering and then blending irrevocably into the dark stains on the soiled rug.

  32

  Elizabeth

  Elizabeth arrived with Kyle at the consulate, certain their business here would go more smoothly than it had at the police station. She had an appointment, and they got there on time.

  She started for the gate, and Kyle told her he was going in search of coffee. She could see a line of shops and restaurants across the street, within easy walking distance. He would meet her back here when she was done.

  After passing through security, she was directed to follow a blue line on the floor through long windowless corridors that ended at a crowded waiting room. There, behind wire-reinforced glass, a sour-faced clerk took the forms and fees and pictures and told her to sit. As before, they gave her no special treatment. The attitudes never rose even to the level of cordial. It didn’t matter that she’d worked for more than two decades for the government.

  Every seat was filled, so Elizabeth stood with her back to a huge seal of the State Department plastered to a wall. As she watched the people jammed in the enclosed space with her, she felt completely detached from their lives.

 
Many struggled with the language once they reached a window. Others had difficulty understanding the forms they had been given to complete. Bits and pieces of conversations reached her.

  “Do you have a pen I might borrow?” a woman with a German accent asked her.

  Elizabeth hiked her purse higher on her arm and shook her head.

  An old man leaning on a cane held out the form he’d been handed. “Mesheh komakam koneed?” he asked in Farsi. Can you help me?

  She turned her back, pretending she didn’t understand him.

  Something about this situation rekindled thoughts of her childhood. Moving from one army housing unit to another, Elizabeth turned her back on the other kids. She didn’t need them. There was no point having friends that she’d be leaving behind. The detachment process was too exhausting. She could stand on her own two feet.

  Today, the people that she was being forced to wait with were dreadfully needy. Desperation hung like a yellow haze in the air. But Elizabeth was neither needy nor desperate.

  When she was called back to a window, a limited-access passport was handed to her. She was told that she could use it when the time came to leave Istanbul.

  Leaving through the gates past the armed security personnel, she was happy to find Kyle waiting for her. She wanted to go back to the hotel, wash the stench of the consulate off her, and have a drink.

  She showed him the new ID. “Is this enough to verify my identity for the signing?”

  “It should be.”

  He motioned for one of the waiting taxis and gave the name of their hotel as they climbed into the back seat.

  It was amazing how much power a little slip of paper could bestow. Elizabeth already felt safer, more confident, more in control of her life. She could go where she wanted, escape unwanted company, and put the past behind her.

  “What time is our dinner reservation?” she asked.

  “Six.”

  “Plenty of time.”

  She dialed her daughter’s number. The cell rang and rang.

  “Plenty of time for what?”

  “To get a manicure and pedicure at the hotel salon.”

  The call went through to her voicemail. Elizabeth didn’t leave a message.

  “I was going to ask Christina to join me.” She looked over at Kyle. “I didn’t buy a birthday gift for her. I thought the bonus would be enough.”

  She dropped the cell phone into her bag.

  “She’s working for that bonus,” Kyle said. “A birthday gift should be separate.”

  “Look who’s talking. What did you get her, other than a business trip to Istanbul?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I’m teasing.” Elizabeth nudged his shoulder with hers. “Come on. Tell me.”

  “What I give Christina doesn’t concern you.”

  She glanced at Kyle’s face and his long lashes. He was all concentration as he typed away on his phone, pretending that Elizabeth wasn’t even there. She tried to guess at what he’d bought Christina. Maybe they weren’t done. One could only hope. If Elizabeth couldn’t have him for herself again, she still wanted him in Christina’s life.

  From all appearances, though, her daughter had ruined it. She wondered if Christina had driven him away or if they both had a hand in messing it up.

  “What’s the deal while you two are in Istanbul? ” she pressed. “You have adjoining rooms. Sex or no sex?”

  She was trying to get a rise out of him, but an incoming call ruined the opportunity. Kyle spoke Japanese to whoever was on the other end. She didn’t understand anything that was being said.

  Elizabeth knew he was fluent in Mandarin, and increasingly competent in Japanese and Korean. That was part of what made him so valuable to Externus.

  There didn’t seem to be an end in sight to his conversation. She looked out the window at the office and apartment buildings and the storefront shops and restaurants. Food carts were on every corner, and people were bustling about on the sidewalks like a colony of ants. She was bored and impatient to get back to the hotel. She needed a drink more than she needed to get her nails done.

  Kyle ended one call and immediately placed another. This time, he spoke English.

  “Yes. The order was placed by Kyle Phillips.”

  She turned toward him, watching his profile. A five-o’clock shadow darkened his chin and jaw. He looked hip and rebellious.

  Elizabeth recalled when a dreamy-eyed Christina broke the news to her. Kyle thinks we should move in together. I know he’s had plenty of relationships, but he’s never lived with someone. And he wants me.

  At the time, the thing running through Elizabeth’s mind was that it was unfair to other women for a man like Kyle to be tied to one person. But since then, she’d come to appreciate the pleasure of having him around.

  “I’d like to change the delivery date from tomorrow to tonight,” he said. “Yes, the same room number.”

  Her interest was piqued, and Elizabeth hung on every word.

  “Lilac. Jasmine. White calla lilies.”

  He was reviewing what was going into the bouquet.

  “You’re certain the jasmine is fragrant, right? Yes. Make sure it is. Thank you. Yes, deliver it as soon as you can. That’s great.”

  The sting of jealousy was sharp and unexpected, and Elizabeth felt it pierce the tough outer skin of her ego. No man had ever paid this much attention to any gift she’d received. Not even Jax. And that bastard was her husband.

  “I know someone who likes jasmine.”

  Kyle looked up from his phone. For the first time since they’d gotten into the cab, his expression was gentler. “She needs some cheering up.”

  “She needs sex to cheer her up. A bouquet is a great start to getting her back into your bed. Well done, my boy.”

  She made a mistake of touching his arm, and he jerked it back as if he’d been burned.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he asked loud enough to draw the eyes of their driver in the rearview mirror. “There are times that I wonder if she’s really related to you. I mean, what parent says things like that. How can you treat your daughter the way you do?”

  Elizabeth turned away. His words stung. She treated Christina better than she deserved. She’d given her everything.

  The cab rumbled across a bridge, but she didn’t see the shimmering water below. Instead, in her mind’s eye, she saw the red-faced child being placed in her arms.

  From that very first moment, she was terrified of holding Christina too tightly or handling her the wrong way. The baby was weak. She cried all the time. She wouldn’t take her milk. Ten days after coming home from the hospital, she had to take her back. Christina was hospitalized for a week that time. Three days later, they were back in the emergency room. Elizabeth’s life became an ongoing nightmare of doctors, a crying baby, and sleepless nights.

  And then there was Zari’s daughter, Tiam. Six months old, round-faced, happy, and energetic. Curious and affectionate, she melted into Elizabeth’s arms whenever she picked her up. Tiam was aware of everyone and everything around her. She was the very model of those healthy, beautiful babies on TV.

  Life wasn’t fair. The universe had played an ugly game on her. Elizabeth put up with it for as long as she could, and then she decided to change the rules. She had the money and the power to deal herself a new hand.

  Kyle was correct. She wasn’t her real mother. But she’d earned the right to be critical of Christina, to correct her, and to make sure she appreciated the life Elizabeth had given her. It didn’t matter that Christina didn’t know the truth, so long as she understood all the privileges she’d been given and was grateful to the person who continued to provide them.

  Had Elizabeth said things she shouldn’t have from time to time? Had she been too strict or too critical of her? Maybe, but that was what a young woman needed to succeed in this world. A woman had to be tough and smart and, at times, callous.

  Elizabeth felt a headache coming on. She didn’t want
to think about the past.

  She sat back and closed her eyes until the cab pulled in front of the hotel. She waited for the doorman before getting out. Kyle was already standing by the door. She hurried in ahead of him.

  “How about we meet down here at five thirty?” he called after her. “We can have a drink before going to dinner.”

  Elizabeth waved a hand at him. Whatever. She’d be well fortified when she came down to face those two. And she’d come down when she was damn well ready.

  When she reached her room, she kicked off her shoes, peeled off her jacket, and went to the desk. Yesterday she’d ordered a bottle of Jack Daniel’s to be sent up. Pouring herself a healthy inch into the bottom of a tumbler, she breathed in the biting fragrance before letting it roll around on her tongue. The liquor warmed her throat as it went down.

  “Better.”

  She splashed a little water on top and then espied the message light flashing on her hotel phone. Taking another sip, she pressed the button on the speakerphone.

  “Hi, Elizabeth. Where are you? I’ve been here all morning.”

  She immediately recognized the old voice. She’d heard it yesterday on Patricia Nicholls’s answering machine.

  A second message followed.

  “I’m afraid I can’t sit around all day, waiting for you and your daughter to show up. Call me tomorrow. Maybe we can try again over the weekend.”

  “My daughter?”

  Curious, Elizabeth looked up Patricia’s number on her cell and called her. The phone rang until the message machine kicked in.

  “Patricia, it’s Elizabeth. What do you mean, waiting for us to show up? We’re playing phone tag. And by the way, I meant what I said in my last message. She doesn’t know. No one knows. So keep it zipped. Hear me?”

  She ended the call and then tried Christina’s cell phone. There was still no answer. She tried her hotel room next. Again, nothing.

  She called the front desk. “Have you seen my daughter today?”

  “Yes, ma’am. This morning. Ms. Hall hired a car service for the day and left the hotel.”