All In (7 page)

“We?” Chas asked.

“Yes,” Amal replied. “This is a safe house for women who have run from their husbands in Morocco, some from situations that were quite violent. We pay for their passage to Johannesburg and give them as much time as they need here; we also house their children if they can get them out. Mahmoud didn’t tell you? He is the main reason why we have the ability to do this. He coordinates everything and funds it as well.”

“My God,” Susannah breathed. “I had no idea.”

“Yes,” Amal said. “A remarkable man. His own parents were quite wonderful, but apparently, his sister was in a situation of abuse he couldn’t bear. She died before he could get her out and decided to do this in her honor. Follow me.”

Susannah and Chas reached for each other’s hands as they followed Amal down a long corridor. As they walked down the hall, they spied women in each room, and some children, who smiled as they walked past. Some were clearly wary, for obvious reasons. But some looked at them with warmth in their eyes.

Amal opened the door to a small room near the back of the house. It had wooden eaves and simple decor that reminded Susannah of her Grand-mère’s country house in France. Tiled paintings of rustic imagery lined the walls: roosters, a milk jug, a peasant couple and their horses. There was a tin can in the corner that held a bunch of dried flowers; an old painted wooden window frame was used as decoration on one side of the room. The feeling was homey, safe, and peaceful, and at once Susannah felt calm.

Amal smiled at them. “I’ve prepared a small meal for you in our kitchen. Please join us for dinner if you’d like, or feel free to spend the night in here. I’m sure you must be tired after traveling so much. And I know this is a poor substitute for a honeymoon, but Mahmoud and Jackson wanted to make sure you were taken care of, so we made up the most private room for you. Enjoy your evening—I am here for anything you might need.”

Susannah choked up with tears and couldn’t find her voice. It was too much. There were so many people being so kind to her, and she was already in such a vulnerable state because of her father. Chas glanced at her and spoke for them both. “This is more than we expected and is generous beyond compare. Thank you, Amal. I promise we will repay your kindness.”

Amal laughed. “There is no need. Mahmoud has already done so and continues to. We owe him so much that I was so happy he asked me for a favor! This space is yours for as long as you need it.” And with that, she closed the door behind her.

Chas took Susannah in his arms. “It’s one heck of a honeymoon, Legs. You’ve got to admit that.”

“
Almost
honeymoon,” she said through her tears. “You’re not gonna get out of marrying me for real, you know.”

Chas laughed deeply, and she could feel the bass thrum in his chest with her cheek. “Oh, sweetheart, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

‡‡‡

ROBERT SMITH HAD
decided to turn over a new leaf and was taking a cooking class. Italian cooking, to be exact. He was more the TV-dinner type, but he wanted to impress Gabriella. And he had a vague recollection that her favorite dish was eggplant parmigiana. He was at a class in a fancy New York City loft, wanting to be far enough away that no one from work would see him. As an added bonus, he was taking an afternoon class, so it was him and a bunch of bachelorettes wanting to impress their husbands-to-be. Everyone else thought he was at a meeting in Quantico. Wonderful thing, having his level of clearance: He could fly wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and never had to answer to anyone. He could also make people adapt to his schedule at a moment’s notice. The “very important meeting at FBI HQ” was actually a phone call that happened early this morning and gave him full jurisdiction over the training program at Quantico for the FBI. He was already the consultant for the training programs at Camp Peary for the CIA. He was FBI-trained but CIA-hired. Gabriella liked to say it made him the perfect man.

Right now
the perfect man
was wearing a chef’s hat and an apron with “The Way to a Man’s Heart!” written in red bubble letters with hearts all over it. The bachelorettes all mistook him for gay, and he didn’t bother to correct them. He had chosen this class because it got great reviews in the
New York Post,
and Gabriella always liked to read the
Post.
She said it was better than a soap opera. And it said the eggplant parm was to die for. He decided he’d suck it up so that when Gabriella returned, he could make her a fancy meal she’d love, before they had sex on every surface of his bare and staid apartment.

Just thinking about her got him excited enough to smile at the bachelorettes as he was stirring his sauce.
Yes,
he thought with a smile,
I can’t wait to rock her world
.

7

JACKSON HAD MADE
Lisa Bee the best meal she thought she’d ever had. AJ had eaten some, too, though she always made sure her eyes were on the screens and ate her meal at “mission control.” At one point she shouted out, “Jackson, old friend, this is the closest to an orgasm I’ve had in over a week!” Jackson just laughed and shook his head, then turned to Lisa Bee and said, “Tole you so.”

Lisa Bee and Jackson sat together at Mahmoud’s dining table, shooting the shit and having, for all intents and purposes, a normal time. But Lisa Bee was blown away. All this time she’d known Jackson, she’d picked him for a fast-food kind of guy—not a man who could make a meal like this. It was sweet and spicy, nourishing and complicated, so very different from the food she’d grown up on. She didn’t think she’d ever had any meal so lovely.

“Jackie,” Lisa Bee said sleepily, enjoying the feeling of a full stomach, “why’ve you been holding out on me? I mean, I always picked you for a White Castle kind of guy.”

“Yuck,” he said with a belly laugh. “White Castle, Bee? You kiddin’ me? I mean, if anything, it’s Taco Bell.”

“Right,” she said, “Taco Bell. That’s what I meant.”

“I don’t know. When do we ever have the time to cook? I’ve always thought it was easier to just
run for the boardroom
.”

“But damn, Jackie,” she said with a grin. “This is no joke. Secret weapon, indeed!”

“I’m just glad it’s going to the right arsenal,” he said. “You’re the only one I want to impress. I mean, I haven’t cooked for anyone . . . ever, really.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised. “Is that true? Or is this just part of your hard-core wooing?”

“It’s true, Bee,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. “The best wooing is always the true kind. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Don’t say that, Jackie. Not when we’re on a mission.” She laughed and looked away. She still wasn’t quite on board with all this, and she didn’t quite trust that it was right. Until she was sure, she’d keep the friendship strong and the rest at bay. “I’m gonna catch a few Z’s. Want to get going in a couple hours?”

“That’s great,” he said with a smile. “I’ll make you a pot of coffee for the road.”

‡‡‡

SUSANNAH AND CHAS
had spent a couple of hours enjoying each other in a beautiful king-size bed with a down-filled white cotton quilt. They’d crept out to the kitchen after everyone turned in and dined on a wonderful dinner of curried lamb with chickpeas and raisins. But Susannah became anxious and wanted to do some recon ASAP. Chas agreed. They wouldn’t wait until morning. They would start right now. And it wasn’t terribly late; it was about ten
P.M.
, the perfect time for a mission.

Glancing over the paperwork they had in their travel bags, Susannah and Chas began to chart a plan. Susannah opened Google Maps on her iPhone only to realize that they were walking distance from her father’s last known address. “Chas? Did you know we were so close to location three?” she asked, showing him the map and the address.

Chas laughed. “Mahmoud planned this whole thing. I say when we get your father back safely, we buy Mahmoud a Porsche in exchange.”

“I don’t know about that,” Susannah replied. “He seems more the Jaguar type to me. But yes, a gift, a big one. And let’s hope we find my father before someone else does.”

Chas nodded in understanding. “Let’s get our gear on and load our guns. We’ll start with location three. Text Fingers and make sure she’s tracking us. Tell her we’re going in now. We’ll get him, babe. I promise.”

Looking back at him, she felt her confidence rise. They were right on target, and there was no time to lose. Perfect. She sent a quick text to AJ to make sure she had eyes on the place.

Fingers. Heading to Joburg loc #3. Eyes on?

Immediately, she heard back.

Got you covered, sis. Go for it!

She wasn’t surprised that AJ was at the ready. It wasn’t late, and AJ seldom needed sleep anyway. She would have been at the ready if it were two in the morning. Hell, she probably didn’t even have jet lag!
Susannah put on her Bluetooth and changed into dark colors, strapping her holster around her thigh. Chas was already in dark clothes, wearing a shoulder holster as well as a knife in one boot and a second revolver around his calf. He also carried a small backpack with supplies: water, rope, PowerBars, extra ammo, and backup phone batteries in case they needed to do an impromptu stakeout. They nodded to each other, grabbed hands, and slipped out the back door into the Johannesburg night.

‡‡‡

JACKSON AND LISA BEE
had gotten a couple of hours of sleep and were ready to hit the road. Mahmoud had a burnt-orange Vespa for them to use, and they were currently heading south to the Friouato Caves. The warm air was whipping past them, and Lisa Bee held tight to Jackson’s waist, enjoying the ride and the time to think. Jackson seemed totally psyched, in a great and optimistic mood. Lisa Bee felt a lot less clear. She felt true friendship with Jackson, and she had a raging crush on Mahmoud. This would be tough to deal with, but she figured the best thing she could do would be to focus on the case. Maybe it would just work itself out. As she held on to Jackson and felt the rippling muscles beneath his jacket, as well as a new awareness of him within herself, she wondered what might come in terms of her love life and her work.

When Lisa Bee was growing up, she and her best friend, Cassandra, would play a game called Detective. They’d wear disguises—hats, wigs, and glasses—and use fake guns they got at a five-and-dime store. They’d record themselves pursuing cases through the back woods of her parents’ house and through the streets of New Orleans, made-up cases of petty thieves and mysterious murders. She’d kept the box of disguises and cassette tapes in her parents’ attic. She had no idea at the time how prescient that game was: She never knew then that she would become the character that she played as a girl. Holding on to Jackson, she felt a burst of adrenaline, an explosion of self-confidence. She felt, for the first time since she could remember, that she was doing just what she was put on this earth to do, that her life had a purpose, the exact purpose she was born for.

As the wind whipped past her skin, she allowed her grin to spread from ear to ear.

‡‡‡

SUSANNAH WAS DOING
surveillance outside her father’s last known address. Chas had gone inside to check out the house and had ordered her to stay put. She was nervous—something wasn’t right about any of this. She had a funny feeling in her gut, and she had learned to trust her instincts. She had begged Chas to wait for daylight, but he’d insisted he would be fine. They kissed briefly, and he was gone.

She was standing under a copse of jacaranda trees, looking at the house and wondering about her father’s life in this city. Johannesburg was an odd place, filled with different neighborhoods and suburbs that bordered the city proper. This particular neighborhood, Melville, reminded her a bit of San Francisco, with unusual houses, fantastic foliage, and a street nearby filled with the buzz of music and college students. She stood looking at the rustic villa, a spring breeze hitting her face. What had her father been doing all these years? And why would he remove himself from their lives, even under the guise of protection? It seemed wrong and too painful to understand. She was filled with equal parts anger and anticipation, furious with him for what he had put them through, sad that she had missed out on her life with him, and anticipating what it would be like to have a father again. She had been without him for so long that she didn’t know if it would be possible to rekindle any kind of relationship. Feet firmly planted in the red dirt of the Johannesburg streets, she continued to wait.

‡‡‡

CHAS HAD LIED
to Susannah. He’d told her he was going into the house when, in truth, he wasn’t. He had briefly done so, yes, and determined no one was home. But he had gotten the lay of the land and left his cell phone in a bush in the backyard to pick up upon his return: He wanted to make sure there was no way for AJ to track him leaving the area. He had told Susannah he’d be offline for about thirty minutes while he cased the house and did a thorough search; they often needed to do that when the need for silence was paramount. Then Chas had slipped out the back and run to Amal’s safe house to grab a scooter he’d seen parked in her backyard. He had noted it earlier but hadn’t mentioned it to Susannah. The secrecy of his mission was of the utmost importance.

When he got back to the safe house, he roused Amal and asked her to keep an eye on Susannah and not to mention his return. Amal could keep a secret, and he knew she’d appreciate the fact that there were some things sensitive enough to hide from even your closest allies. He had been told by Mahmoud that she was skillful with a gun and accustomed to using it. Therefore, when he said not to mention anything out of the ordinary to Susannah or Mahmoud, she nodded once and went off to arm herself and make her way to Buzz’s house. On the way out, she made it clear she’d watch over Susannah but keep her distance.

Chas breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that Susannah had some backup. He wouldn’t have been able to make this run if she didn’t. He got on the scooter and plugged the coordinates in to his GPS. He had an old contact in Johannesburg, one who could set him up with some intel, but in order to access the contact, he had to resume his old cover, that of an expert hacker working for the Italian mob. Thankfully, his cover was intact, since Gabriella had convinced her people that Bruni was killed by a rival mob. Chas’s contact had told him they could meet at the mall in Rosebank, called the Zone, about a ten-minute drive from the safe house in Melville. The Zone was a busy public location filled with people of all nationalities, so his contact knew it would be a good place to exchange some classified information. Chas got there in seven minutes flat, deftly navigating his way through tourists, screaming teens, outdoor eateries, and trees decorated with Christmas lights, to find the Wakaberry, a frozen-yogurt shop. Even at eleven
P.M.
, it was filled with people who’d just gotten out of the movies. He spied his contact from across the street.

‡‡‡

MATTEO WRENN, AKA “BIRDSONG”
to the hacking community, was a former pro soccer player for the Kaizer Chiefs in Johannesburg. He’d played in Belgium for a bit, then returned to South Africa to be a sub for its World Cup team. He had been hooked on soccer ever since high school, when he played goalie and had saved the day in a pivotal game, leading his team through to the championship. Though he was well known as one of South Africa’s few white pro soccer players, his image gave him the freedom to travel wherever he wanted whenever he wanted, and his dual Belgian citizenship allowed him to have residences in both Belgium and in Jo’burg, plus a lovely villa in Sicily. He played soccer through his twenties, but when he turned thirty, he decided to turn over a new leaf. He had always been a computer whiz; he’d spent years turning those skills into a penchant for hacking and getting information other people couldn’t. He was one of Chas’s go-to international contacts, and Chas was never sure if Birdsong had any real allegiance to anyone. Nor did Birdsong particularly need the large sums of money he demanded. Chas believed Birdsong supplied information for the same reason he’d played pro soccer: He loved the competition, the excitement, the fight to the goal.

Chas approached, and Birdsong stood and embraced him like an old friend. He was five-eleven, still muscular from his soccer days, and had a shock of curly hair bleached blond by the sun. “Chas, old friend! You look well. Hope you got here okay. Quite a
chamorse,
a jumble, no? All this building, renovating, construction—everyone wants to live in Jo’burg!”

“Thanks, Birdsong,” Chas said. “Look, I’m a bit short on time—”

“Fantastic yogurt, here! Didn’t know what you’d like, but I got you one anyway because they’re closing. Boring, yes? To close now? Why not a twenty-four/seven yogurt shop? Excellent business idea, no? Anyway, I got you my favorite. Mangoes, kiwi, and pineapple on top of chocolate yogurt! With butterscotch syrup!”

“I’d really love to join you, but I’ve got to cut and run. Time-sensitive stuff. You know how this works.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Well, I came up with a few things. Hard to track down what you asked for. But yes, I got it. It’s in the yogurt. In the thing that looks like a strawberry.”

Chas went to grab the yogurt, but Birdsong put his hand up. “You remember the drill?” he asked, his light blue eyes sharp with challenge.

Chas paused, then said, “I’m to tell anyone who asks that I don’t know you well. Except that you’re a famous former soccer player. We’ve met a couple of times because my company was a sponsor for the 2010 World Cup. Other than that, I don’t know a thing about you.” He waited for affirmation, then said, “And the money’s already in your account, by the way.”

“Oh, I know that, Chas,” Birdsong replied instantly, smiling again. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t. Safe travels, old friend. Good luck.
Sterkte!
”

‡‡‡

SUSANNAH LIFTED HER HEAD
and inhaled the fragrant scent of the jacaranda trees. Blooming in October and November, the vibrant trees were a sight to behold. Even under the moonlight, she could see the color of the stunning purple flowers; she had heard that blossoms falling upon you was good luck. A flower fell on her just then, and she smiled. It was going to be a better night than the way it had started, she just knew it. All was well, and they would find her father. Chas knew how to take care of himself; all her worry was for nothing. Susannah took another deep breath and looked around. AJ had texted her that it was a “bit dodgy” at night and to watch her back. Speaking of, there was AJ calling on her cell.

“I’m still here, waiting for Chas,” Susannah said.

“All okay?” AJ asked. “I can’t get eyes on the street.”

“Yes, all is okay,” Susannah replied, “I’m just worried, you know? Something’s not sitting right.”

“I’m sure all will be well. You know Chas—he’s quite resourceful.”