Chapter 11
Deliverance
Las Vegas - April 15, 2012
Patience stared idly from the window, the view from the thirty-fourth floor of the hotel undeniably impressive. The glitter and excess that was so emblematic of Las Vegas shining before them in the fading evening sunlight, the pair stood taking it in for a final few moments. Frank then turned to Patience, advising, “We had better get going. The show will be starting very shortly.”
“Do I have to go?” Patience queried. “I’ve been in a different part of the world for so long. This grand showcase sort of thing kind of scares me.”
“Yes, I fear that you must. If you were to duck this affair, I’m afraid that people would come seeking you out in every corner of the world.”
“What on earth for?” Patience replied.
“Patience, there is no way that I can explain it to you. The truth is, you’ve become an international celebrity. Everyone wants to see the woman who single-handedly brought down one of the most potent criminals in the entire world. You must appear tonight in order to ever have a moment’s privacy for the remainder of your life.”
“Yeah, okay, I guess you’re right, but I don’t feel like a celebrity, and I sure don’t want to be in the limelight.”
“The thought never crossed my mind that you would,” Frank responded. “I can tell from the time that we have spent together that you are a very private person. Starting tomorrow you can begin the process of restoring your privacy, but tonight you must be on display for the world to see one last time. Now, let’s get going.”
At this she pouted a moment, murmuring, “Oh, alright,” and, tugging her overcoat on, she started obediently for the door.
“By the way, that is a gorgeous evening gown, Patience. You look absolutely stunning tonight.”
“Thank you, but I don’t feel that way at all,” she replied.
“Why? You’re quite lovely, you know,” he responded matter-of-factly.
“Well, I just don’t feel that way, especially with this damned watusi hairdo. I can’t believe that you talked me into having it done this way. I’ve had this revulsion for it in my memory for all these years, and here I am decked out in it once again. Now I know why I kept the barrette all these years. Damn it, Frank, I’ve felt like a whore ever since I got it cut two weeks ago!”
Gently grasping her by the shoulders, Frank posited, “I know, I know, but we went over this, Patience. It was necessary. Without the watusi, I doubt that we could have gotten Al-Wadi to blow up in the courtroom like that. Besides, the watusi hairdo is the symbol of the worldwide appeal of Restoring Patience, and you are the iconic image of the organization. You just won’t carry the impact without it.”
“Yeah, I know all of that, but that’s not the reason that you talked me into it.”
“Oh? Why DID you agree to do it, then?” he asked.
“I already told you, Frank. Nobody will ever realize back in Italy that Patience is the same person as Martina, the owner of an ice cream shop in Castiglion Fiorentino.”
“You’re NOT going back there! Surely not, Patience. You don’t have to now. Your self-imposed exile is over. Al-Wadi is dead!”
“I know, but it’s the only place that I feel at home. I’m going back, Frank. And when I say ‘back’, I mean - back to my quiet existence, and I don’t want to be recognized.”
At this admission, they walked in silence for a few moments. They had just reached the door when she asked, “Will Brandt MacCauley be there tonight?”
“Yes, of course,” Frank replied, “He is the master of ceremonies.”
“Really,” she responded, nonplussed. “Well, I suppose that it can’t be avoided.”
“Is there bad blood between the two of you?” Frank queried with obvious concern.
“No, no, there’s no bad blood. I just can’t stand to be around him, that’s all.”
Obviously perplexed by her continuing revulsion for Brandt, Frank asked, “Might I ask what the reason is? He’s really done wonderful things on your behalf, Patience.”
“You wouldn’t understand. Let’s just say – it goes back to a long time ago.”
“I see,” he replied, although he really could only surmise. As they moved down the sidewalk, he added, “Well, it’s none of my business anyway. Here’s the car. Shall we?”
“Yes,” she responded, “It’s show time, as they say.”
Their arrival at the Las Vegas Conference Center was much like a Hollywood gala. As the car drove down the last block to the center, they were encircled within a mad crush of spectators. The driver found it necessary to inch along, awaiting their turn to halt at the red carpet. Cameras were flashing everywhere, reporters lined up along the red carpet awaiting their turn at the story of a lifetime.
Patience was visibly disconcerted. Attempting to soothe her fears, Frank offered, “Don’t worry Patience, our agents will be there. You will be protected. I absolutely guarantee it.”
At this she looked a bit relieved, but suddenly emitting a look of shock, she blurted, “What the…what is that?”
“What is what?” Frank replied, concern showing on his face.
She pointed towards a group of spectators, exclaiming, “That!”
Frank peered in the direction that she was pointing, and there, not fifty feet away, was a group of perhaps twenty youngsters dressed in black, each and every one of them sporting an exact duplicate of her watusi hairdo. “Oh, that. Think nothing of it, Patience. It’s simply a show of admiration. As I told you, you are now an international celebrity.”
Patience scowled at the group, mumbling, “I can’t wait to get back home.” She frowned, adding, “That Brandt MacCauley, he’s the one who used it to market Restoring Patience, isn’t he!”
“Yes, he is, but you shouldn’t jump to conclusions, dear friend. There was a general public clamor to learn more about the mysterious Patience. And remember, the world was under the impression that you were dead. Brandt provided just the right bit of information to enlist the masses. He cropped the infamous photo taken that night to a head shot, photo-shopping it into a silhouette. The only distinguishing feature that remained was the watusi, but it was just enough to give the public what it wanted – an idol to worship.”
“This is ridiculous. I’m not some sort of idol. I’m going to need all the help I can get just to make it through this night, Frank. Please, can I count on you?”
“My dear Patience, indeed you can. You must know that I admire you greatly, and I would do anything in my power to ensure your happiness and safety,” he replied, “Just stay focused on the reality that, beginning tomorrow, you will have your life back.”
“Thank you,” she answered, and at that moment the car pulled up to the red carpet.
An agent opened the car door, Frank finding just enough time to say, “Stay with Bill and his colleagues. They will get you to your assigned seating. I will join you shortly.”
“Okay,” she replied, stepping forthwith into the pulsating throng.
“There she is!” someone in the crowd shouted, “It’s Patience!” And just like that the melee commenced. Fortunately, the agents were true to Frank’s word, safely conducting Patience inside the center, whereupon they pushed and shoved their way through the crowd, successfully maneuvering her to the backstage area. Once there, she saw Brandt who, on spotting her in return, came towards her through the backstage crowd.
“Hello. Are you quite alright, Patience?” he queried upon reaching her side.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she responded, though it was clear from her look of misery that she was not.
“It’s good to see you,” he said.
“You, too,” she responded miserably, displaying not so much as a tiny smile of joy at seeing him for the first time in more than a year.
“I am sorry you have to go through this, Patience, but it is quite necessary,” he volunteered.
“Yes, I know. Frank explained it to me,” she replied and, glancing up to discover that he was completely transfixed by the sight of her hair, she blurted belligerently, “Stop that!”
“Stop what?” he murmured softly, taken off guard by her tone.
“Stop looking at it!” she snarled at him. “Damn you, Brandt MacCauley. Damn you to hell!” and she screamed these last words so vehemently that virtually everyone backstage turned in dismay.
Staring at her with a look of utter horror, he blurted in obvious confusion, “Please forgive me, Patience.”
Slowly softening her visage at this abject apology, she unclenched her fists after a few moments. She now made a desperate attempt at a smile, and though she failed miserably, it was clear that she was trying.
Touching her hand gently with his, Brandt speculated compassionately, “I can’t know what it must be like for you tonight Patience, but if there is anything, anything at all that I can do to make this easier for you, please know that I will do it.”
A hundred pairs of eyes viewed this exchange tensely, every person fearful to so much as breathe. After a seemingly endless stretch, Patience squeezed his hand in return and responded apologetically, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I blew up at you, Brandt. Of all people for me to treat that way on this night, I had to pick you. I’m truly sorry. Now let’s get on with it. Okay?”
“Right,” he replied, “Are you ready?”
“No…yes…,” she nodded, causing her watusi to bob ludicrously. And at this, the crowd twittered, the tension having apparently abated.
Turning towards the interlopers, he announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to begin. If you would, please take your seats on the stage. Not you, Patience. Please remain here with me.”
The remainder of the group now meandering onto the stage, she inquired “What am I supposed to do?”
“Nothing,” Brandt replied empathetically. “Just remain here backstage, and wait for me to call you onstage. I shall then ask you to say a few words. The rest of the program will take care of itself.”
The auditorium suddenly grew hushed and, turning to her, Brandt winked and whispered briskly, “It’s show time!” and with that he stepped out onto the stage.
Approaching the podium, he commenced with, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am Brandt MacCauley, your master of ceremonies for the evening. It is my great honor to emcee the show tonight. For your information, the ceremony is at this very moment being beamed to more than six hundred television stations worldwide. As you doubtless are aware, I have been the President and CEO of Restoring Patience since its inception nearly fifteen years ago,” at which the audience applauded enthusiastically.
After the applause had died down, Brandt continued with, “For those of you who are not aware, Restoring Patience is a worldwide organization whose goal is to eradicate exploitation of women. Seated on the stage before you are the original forty members of Restoring Patience. If you will, please give them a hand.”
After the applause had died down, he suggested, “Without my wonderful colleagues and friends on this stage, I doubt that Restoring Patience would have ever come to fruition. And now, will all the members of Restoring Patience in the audience please rise,” at which much of the crowd arose to accept their accolade.
Continuing, Brandt announced, “In recent years the membership of Restoring Patience has grown to more than three million people worldwide. To date, Restoring Patience has successfully helped more than five thousand female victims of exploitation worldwide,” and at this revelation there was still further applause.
Now halting momentarily, he subsequently continued with, “Ladies and gentlemen, I know, I know – I’m already beginning to bore you. You didn’t come here tonight to hear some stuffed shirt drone on about Restoring Patience. You came here tonight to see Patience!” and at this statement the auditorium erupted in deafening applause.
As the applause began to die down Brandt announced resoundingly, “Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, I give you Patience!” at which the entire crowd jumped to their feet as one, the eruption of applause absolutely deafening.
Taking a deep breath, Patience stepped reticently onto the stage, at which the roar grew impossibly louder. Having no idea what to do, she lunged directly toward Brandt, who grasped her tenderly and barked above the uproar, “Stay calm, Patience. It will all be over soon. Now, if you would, please be seated in the chair next to the podium.”
Brandt now stood back from the podium, allowing the crowd to express their full gratitude to Patience. Finally, pushing his hands downwards in an attempt to silence the crowd, he cajoled, “Please, if you will, please be seated.” Hesitating a moment, he abruptly entreated, “What do you think folks, shouldn’t we hear from Patience herself?”
As one, the entire audience stood, applauding thunderously yet again. Brandt turned and, approaching Patience, he held his hand out to her, willing her to stand and take the podium.
Accepting his hand, she stood but refused to budge, instead whispering in his ear, “What do I say?”
Smiling supportively, he suggested, “Why, whatever you want to say, Patience. I know that you will have something special to say on this, your night,” and at this he stepped back.
Gathering herself momentarily, she commenced with trembling voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, please bear with me as I tell you a story. Fifteen years ago, there was a young lady who was a sophomore at Nebraska State University. One day her father died of cancer and three months later her mother was diagnosed with heart failure. She was in need of a serious and costly operation, which her family was unable to afford.
“On that very same day the young lady was drugged and kidnapped. She was subsequently flown to Las Vegas, whereupon her head was shaved and she was forced to do something against her will. She never saw her mother again,” and by now her voice was trembling so forcefully that she found it necessary to halt for a moment.
Regaining her composure, she continued with, “What happened to that young lady has become the defining event of her life, and since that night fifteen years ago she has been continuously in hiding. What I’m trying to say is – I’ve never been up on a stage like this in my entire life. I find myself standing before you tonight in circumstances that are as much beyond my own comprehension as they are yours.
“What I can say is this – fifteen years ago a young woman was kidnapped and forced against her will to commit a heinous act. There is no way that she could have known that her demise could have led to the extraordinary events that have recently transpired. And here is the most incredible part of all - that young woman could never have known that she would be me, the person standing before you tonight.
“Ladies and gentlemen, were it possible, I would wish that none of this had ever happened. Believe me when I say this – I do not revel in being up on this stage at this moment. However, having said that, I am honored to stand before you tonight and say that like you, I too am committed to the cause of Restoring Patience.”
She paused for a moment, and then she added, “A long time ago, when I was very young, a man who was very dear to me said to me, ‘the true meaning of life is love.’ Ladies and Gentlemen, for the past fifteen years, my love has been tested - my love for humanity, my love for life, my love for the spirit of the human race. Tonight I am proud to say to you – my love has been reaffirmed, and endures deep within my heart!”
It did not seem possible, but the auditorium erupted this time with the most thunderous applause of the entire evening. Patience then added with finality, “Thank you all,” thenceforth returning to her seat.
Brandt now arose and continued with, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sure that you all saw the cover article in Time this week describing the life of Patience.” At this there was wild applause from the audience, signaling the reality that one and all had read the carefully documented complete story of Patience. Continuing, Brandt said, “And on
the cover, you all saw the silhouette of Patience with the famous watusi cut, as reproduced on the stage behind me.”
At this, Patience turned in her seat and opened her mouth wide in shock. Pulling her hand demurely to her face to hide her shock at the enormous silhouette of her head, she rose slowly from her seat and, facing the image, her back to the audience, her own hair a miniature in motion of the giant watusi silhouette, she gazed in utter disbelief at the now iconic image of herself. The audience was suddenly enshrouded in complete silence, the realization striking home of the enormous impact of the woman before them.
After it was over, Patience lingered back stage with Brandt, the last to depart except for Frank. Studiously avoiding eye contact, she posited distantly, “You’ve done a wonderful thing, Brandt.”
“Thank you, Patience,” Brandt responded, “Surely you know that it was all for you. Without you, Restoring Patience would never have even been conceived.”
Taking him in one last time, she murmured, “Thank you, Brandt. Thank you for all of this,” and without saying another word, she turned and strode toward the exit, Frank trailing in her wake.
As they drove away, there was thoughtful silence. At length they arrived back at the hotel and as he left her at her room, Frank proffered, “Patience, I’m not sure which of you that I admire more, Brandt or you. But I can tell you this, knowing the two of you has been the most remarkable event of my entire life. Good night and good luck.”
“Thank you, Frank,” she responded, “It has been an honor knowing you as well.”
The following morning Patience flew home to Italy.
Pasadena - May, 2012
The phone rang, awakening Brandt from a deep sleep. Grabbing the receiver, he croaked woozily, “Hello?”
“Brandt, it’s Frank,” the voice on the other end said.
“Hey, Frank!” Brandt replied.
“Hey, can I see you for a few minutes? It’s kind of important.”
“Sure, where and when?”
“The usual place, if you don’t mind,” Frank replied.
“Right,” Brandt responded and, glancing at his clock, he suggested, “How about in an hour?”
“Perfect,” Frank responded, “See you there.”
Stumbling from bed, Brandt thought to himself, “I wonder what that’s about.”
Settling into his spot within Starbuck’s a short time later, the memories flooding over him, he sipped his coffee in contemplation. Suddenly perceiving Frank trudging toward him from the parking lot, he waved gregariously, Frank returning his gesture.
Abruptly, he noticed that there was a woman trailing along with Frank. Perplexed by this development, he studied the pair pensively as they came inside. Having first stopped by the counter to snatch his requisite cup of black coffee, Frank subsequently meandered over, imparting, “Welcome home, Brandt. It’s good to see you,” the woman still trailing silently behind.
“You, too, Frank,” Brandt uttered pleasantly, “Who’s your friend?”
The woman now came up beside Frank and, standing briefly motionless, she gazed expectantly at Brandt. Then she uttered, “Hello, Brandt. It’s been a long time.”
She was older to be sure, but the voice was unmistakable, prompting Brandt to exclaim, “Why, hello, Bernice. How are you? My God, it’s been what, fifteen years!”
“Yep,” she responded, “Fifteen years and three months, to be exact. And by the way, it’s Betty, not Bernice.”
“Oh?” he responded doubtfully.
“Yeah, I’m in the witness protection program now,” she beamed, “Frank’s taking care of me.”
Scrutinizing her blankly, Brandt glanced toward Frank, who for his part added, “She’s our star witness, Brandt. We’re going to get them all, you know.”
“Ah, I see,” Brandt responded perceptively, “Good for you, Betty. My God, I’m proud of you. That’s great!”
“And that’s not all, Brandt,” she continued, “I’m a member….of Restoring Patience.”
Beaming first at Bernice, then at Brandt, Frank exclaimed proudly, “How about that, Brandt!”
Brandt held out his hand to her, offering, “Congratulations, Betty. Please, please sit down so we can talk over old times!”
At this, Bernice responded, “Thanks,” and at this she slid into the booth, followed by Frank.
Brandt now inquired innocently, “Could I ask you a question, Betty? I’ve been wanting to ask you something ever since that first time we met.”
“Sure, what is it?’ Betty responded politely.
“Why did you give Patience the watusi hairdo?”
Eyeing him shrewdly, she volunteered, “Boy, did I get in trouble for that!”
“Oh?”
“You see, I thought Mr. Al-Wadi had brung her to Vegas to star in his strip club. After all, she was quite the looker. So I pulled out all the stops, prettying her up so’s he’d be proud of me. Unfortunately, when he came in and saw my handiwork, he blew a gasket. I don’t mind telling ya, he gave me a pretty good whack up side my head for that mistake. So then he told me she wasn’t there for the club, so I figured I had to think fast. I told him I done it so’s she couldn’t escape without bein’ noticed. Fortunately for me, he agreed with me. Otherwise, I might’ve ended up like Navid.”
“Well, that might have been bad for you,” Brandt rejoined, “But it was a stroke of luck for Patience.”
Arching one eyebrow, she blurted, “Oh?”
“I’d never have been able to trace her escape route from Las Vegas if she hadn’t had that watusi. And If I hadn’t succeeded, she would most certainly be dead by now. So it paid off in the end, Betty.”
“Good!” she giggled, “I’m glad to hear there was an upside to it, ‘cause Mr. Al-Wadi nearly broke my jaw!”
“Second question,” Brandt continued, “How did you get those two pilots to land in Lincoln?”
“Oh that,” she answered with a sudden grin, “It was easy. The co-pilot is my son. I got him the job flyin’ for Mr. Al-Wadi. All I had to do was threaten to get him fired if he didn’t divert the plane from that cornfield of an airstrip to Lincoln.”
“Helluva job, Betty. I doubt we could’ve even gotten an indictment had it not been for that. Had they not landed at an airport that keeps records, we would never have been able to connect Al-Wadi to Patience’s kidnapping.”
“Thanks,” she responded grimly.
Brandt now narrowed his eyes at her and accused, “So you’ve been undercover with Frank all these years, right?”
“Yep,” she admitted matter-of-factly.
Turning toward Frank, Brandt said, “So, you knew about the Al-Qaeda cell even then, I take it. Otherwise, why divert the plane.”
Shaking his head in acceptance, Frank murmured, “Right, smartass. When did you figure it out?”
“Oh, I knew even then, Frank. After all, I met them all in Lincoln that very day.”
“Well, I’ll be,” he responded, “And why didn’t you inform me of such?”
“Because by the time you and I met I was convinced that you already knew,” Brandt observed.
“And just how, pray tell did you know that?”
“Bernice, here,” Brandt confessed self-assuredly.
Shaking his head again, but this time dismissively, Frank countered, “Why am I not surprised. Okay, I’ll bite - how did you know she was FBI?”
“That was obvious,” Brandt responded and, winking through Bernice’s piercing glare, he volunteered directly to her, “No rough-talking backwoods woman is as brilliant as you, Bernice, and even if there was another one like you lurking about, she certainly wouldn’t be reading The New York Times at three in the morning in some derelict diner in downtown Las Vegas.”
“Damn,” Bernice murmured, “I never even considered the possibility you were onto me that night. Frank told me later you were sharp as a tack, but you’re even better than I thought.”
“Thanks, Betty,�
�� Brandt replied, “But if you must know – that cuts both ways.”
“Thanks, Brandt,” she nodded proudly.
“One more question, Betty,” Brandt added, “You took the photo, right, the one of Patience that ended up in the Journal Star?”
“Yep,” she responded matter-of-factly.
“What I’d like to know is why did you give it to Navid?”
“Oh, that,” she replied, “Frank and I worked that one out together. We wanted to see what Navid would do with it. Sure enough, he made a big mistake, and Al-Wadi had him executed. Unfortunately, our plan to use it against Al-Wadi fell through when he had the lone witness to Navid’s murder killed as well. Otherwise, we might have gotten Al-Wadi years ago.”
“As I suspected,” Brandt put in, adding, “Well, all’s well that ends well. I can tell you this, without that photo, I’d never have found Patience, not in a million years. So thanks again, Betty.”
A tiny smile invading her otherwise implacable visage, Bernice responded, “I was just doin’ my job.”
Frank now interjected stoically, “Any other questions, Brandt?”
“No, that about covers it.”
“About time,” Frank responded jadedly and, turning to Bernice, he cajoled, “Okay, Betty, the show is yours.”
“Thanks,” she replied and, turning to face Brandt head-on, she announced, “Actually, I have something for you, Brandt. Wait, that’s not quite right. I actually have something for Patience. I assume you will be seeing her, right?”
“I certainly hope so,” Brandt responded.
“Me, too,” Bernice replied and, tossing him a wink, she posited, “So I have a present for Patience, as I said. Wassim gave it to me before he was indicted. He wanted her to have it, and I agreed to make sure she got it.”
Perplexed by this development, Brandt inquired, “What is it?”
“Not so fast,” she said. “First, I have a story to tell you. You see, Wassim has friends in the right places, and he told me this story. So here’s the thing, his buddies on the inside tell him that the inmates at San Quentin have their own set of strict ethical standards. In fact, they take pride in having a code of conduct on the inside. It’s unwritten, but it’s there nonetheless, and everybody on the inside knows what the rules are. So every-once-in-a-while somebody breaks the code on the inside, and they have a system of justice that is meted out by the internal leadership team.”
Seeing that he was about to say something, she put up a hand, saying, “Let me finish, Brandt, just let me finish. Believe it or not, several of the members of the leadership team in San Quentin are also members of Restoring Patience. So, as it sometimes happens, some characters on the inside are so despicable that they are just too disgusting to be tolerated by the other prisoners. A few months back, something like that happened at San Quentin. There was a guy in there that was so evil that the leadership decided they had to mete out a fair and just punishment for this guy’s despicable actions. They decided on a course of action and, as it turned out, quite a few of the guards are also members of Restoring Patience, so they agreed to turn their backs for an hour while justice was served. So the inmate leaders got ahold of this guy in the shower and dispensed justice for his past crimes.”
Brandt paled at this, nonetheless inquiring, “And what was that, Betty?”
“Well, forgive me if I leave out some of the juicy details, ‘cause Wassim was a little too graphic for me. Anyway, they got this guy in the shower when he was naked, and they strung him up spread-eagled. Then they heated up a broomstick not so hot as to kill him, but hot enough to make him scream like a stuck pig, and they stuck it up his ass. Then they cut his balls off and stuck them in his mouth, and they taped it shut with duct tape. He slowly bled to death.” She halted for a moment and, gauging Brandt’s reaction, she added, “I don’t mind telling you, I would have been revolted by that story if I hadn’t known who the guy was.”
“I can make a wild guess who might deserve that,” Brandt replied, “But I doubt that it could be proven who they did it to, if indeed they did, so I guess we’ll never really know for sure.”
“Well, here’s the thing,” Betty replied, “When somebody dies of natural causes on the inside there’s no opportunity to grab anything personal. The authorities get everything that the person in question had on them. But when on the rare occasion that the leadership team pulls off an execution such as that, they make sure that they get proof.”
At this, Betty reached into her pocket and, tugging something from within, she reached across the table and grasped Brandt’s hand, pulling it towards her. Turning his hand over so that his palm was face up, she placed her hand over his. She dropped the object into it and, slowly withdrawing her hand, she awaited his reaction.
Peering down at his now cupped hand, Brandt opened it guardedly. There, staring back at him, was a glass eye. His own eyes now bulging, he found himself unable to tear himself away from the offensive orb.
Seeing his eyes welling up uncontrollably, Betty grasped his free hand and whispered poignantly, “For Patience, from Restoring Patience.”
Finding Patience Page 13