Never, page 69
Abdul was reminded of a child’s game called Whack-a-Mole.
The cop hit Hakim’s head again, to further cheers.
At last Hakim went limp, and they pulled him out of the water, threw him into the well of the dinghy, and handcuffed him. His left arm looked broken and his head was bleeding.
Abdul went back inside. A brutal man had suffered a brutal beating. It was rough justice.
The prisoners were driven away and crime scene tape was fixed all around the yacht. More polythene sacks were brought up from belowdecks—depriving ISGS of millions of dollars, Abdul thought with profound satisfaction. The heavily armed police drifted away and were replaced by detectives and what looked like forensic specialists.
“We can go,” Abdul said to Kiah.
They paid for their hot chocolate and returned to the car. As they were driving away Kiah said: “You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Were there drugs in those plastic bags?”
“Yes. Cocaine.”
“Is that why you were on the bus with us, all the way from Lake Chad? Because of that cocaine?”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“Are you going to explain it to me?”
“Yes. I can now, because it’s over. There’s a lot to tell. Some of it is still secret, but I can share most of it with you. Maybe tonight, after Naji’s gone to sleep. We’ll have plenty of time. And I can answer all your questions.”
“Good.”
It was getting dark. They drove back to Nice and parked outside their building. Abdul loved the place. There was a bakery on the ground floor, and the smell of new bread and pastries reminded him of his childhood home in Beirut.
Abdul carried Naji up to the apartment. It was small but cozy, with two bedrooms and a living room as well as a kitchen and a bathroom. Kiah had never lived in a place with more than one room, and she thought she was in paradise.
Naji was sleepy, perhaps because of the fresh sea air. Abdul fed him scrambled eggs followed by a banana. Kiah bathed him and put him into a clean diaper and pajamas. Abdul read him a story about a koala bear called Joey, but Naji was asleep before he got to the end.
Kiah began preparing their supper, sprinkling sesame seeds and sumac on cubes of lamb. They nearly always ate traditional Arab food. They could buy all the ingredients in Nice, usually from Lebanese or Algerian shopkeepers. Abdul sat admiring her grace as she moved about the kitchen.
“Don’t you want to watch the news?” she said.
“No,” said Abdul contentedly. “I don’t want to watch the news.”
* * *
Qincheng was for political prisoners, who got better treatment than common criminals. The losers in a political conflict were often jailed on trumped-up charges: it was an occupational hazard for members of the Chinese elite. Kai’s cell was only five yards by four, but it had a desk and a TV set and a shower.
He was allowed to wear his own clothes, but they had taken away his phone. He felt naked without it. He could not remember the last time he had been without a phone for longer than it took to shower.
Today’s coup in Beijing had caught him by surprise, but he now saw that he should have at least thought of the possibility. He had been focused on persuading President Chen not to start a war, and he had not imagined that the hawks might deprive Chen of the power to choose.
A conspiracy against the president should have been uncovered by the homeland security half of the Guoanbu, but of course the head of that department, Vice Minister Li Jiankang, had been in on the plot, and his superior, Security Minister Fu Chuyu, had been one of the ringleaders. With the military and the secret service behind the coup, it could not fail.
The greatest shock had been his father’s betrayal. Of course he had heard Jianjun say that the Communist revolution was more important than anything else, including family ties, but people said that sort of thing without really thinking about it. Or so Kai had always thought. But his father had meant it.
Sitting at the desk, watching the news on the small TV screen, Kai felt how strange it was to be helpless. The fate of China and the world was now out of his hands. With Kong Zhao also in jail there was no one left to restrain the military men. They would probably carry out Jianjun’s scheme of a limited nuclear attack. They might bring about the destruction of China. He just had to wait and see.
He only wished he could wait with Ting. He would never forgive his father for separating them for what might well be their last days of life. He was desperate to talk to her. He looked at his watch. It was an hour to midnight.
The watch gave him an idea.
He banged on the door to attract attention. A couple of minutes later a muscular young prison officer called Liang came in. He took no precautions: the guards had obviously decided Kai was no threat to them, which was true. “Something wrong?” the man said.
“I really want to phone my wife.”
“Not possible, sorry.”
Kai took off his watch and held it in his hand for Liang to see. “This is a steel Rolex Datejust that cost eight thousand US dollars secondhand. I’ll swap it for your watch.” Liang was wearing an army-issue officer’s watch worth ten bucks.
Liang’s eyes glittered with greed but he said cautiously: “You must be corrupt if you can afford a watch like that.”
“It was a present from my wife.”
“Then she must be corrupt.”
“My wife is Tao Ting.”
“From Love in the Palace?” Liang was thrilled. “I love that show!”
“She plays Sun Mailin.”
“I know! The emperor’s favorite concubine.”
“You could call her for me on your phone.”
“You mean I could speak to her?”
“If you want. Then pass the phone to me.”
“Oh, wait till my girlfriend hears about this!”
“I’ll write down the number for you to dial.”
Liang hesitated. “I’ll take the watch as well, though.”
“All right. As soon as you pass me the phone.”
“Agreed.” Liang dialed the number Kai gave him.
A moment later Liang said: “Am I speaking to Tao Ting? Yes, I’m with your husband, but before I pass you to him, I just want to say that my girlfriend and I love the show and it’s such an honor to speak to you. . . . Oh, you’re very kind to say that, thank you! Yes, here he is.”
He gave the phone to Kai, and Kai gave him the Rolex.
Then Kai said: “My darling.”
Ting burst into tears.
“Don’t cry,” said Kai.
“Your mother told me they put you in jail—she says it’s your father’s fault!”
“That’s true.”
“And the Americans have destroyed half of North Korea with nuclear bombs and everyone says China will be next! Is that true?”
Kai felt that if he answered honestly she would become even more upset. “I don’t think President Chen is so foolish as to let that happen,” he said, not really telling a lie but not telling the truth either.
“Everything’s going crazy,” she said. “All the stoplights in Beijing have been turned off and the traffic is gridlocked.”
“That’s the Americans’ doing,” he said. “Cyberwar.”
Liang took off his old wristwatch and put on his new Rolex. He held up his wrist, relishing how it looked.
Ting said: “When will you get out of there?”
Never, Kai thought, if the old Communists fire a nuclear weapon at the US. But he said: “If you and my mother put pressure on my father, it might not be too long.”
Ting sniffed noisily and managed to stop crying. “What’s it like in there? Are you cold? Are you hungry?”
“It’s a lot better than the average prison,” Kai said. “Don’t worry about my comfort.”
“What’s the bed like? Will you be able to sleep?”
Right now Kai could not imagine sleeping, but he supposed nature would take its course sooner or later. “The only thing wrong with my bed is that you’re not in it.”
That made her cry again.
Liang stopped admiring his watch and said: “Not much longer. The other guards will wonder what I’m doing.”
Kai nodded. “Darling, I have to hang up.”
“I’m going to put your photo on the pillow next to me so that I can still look at you.”
“Just lie still and think about the good times we’ve had together. That will help you sleep.”
“I’m going to see your father first thing in the morning.”
“That’s a good idea.” Ting in person could be very persuasive.
“I’ll do everything I can to get you out of there.”
“We can hope.”
“We must think positively. I’m going to say good night, and see you tomorrow.”
“Sleep well,” said Kai. “Good-bye, my love.”
* * *
For the first time, Pauline held a meeting in the Situation Room at Munchkin Country. It was a replica of the one in the White House. The key people were there: Gus, Chess, Luis, Bill, Jacqueline, and Sophia. Tension was high but they still did not know what China was going to do. It was the middle of the night in Beijing and perhaps the government there would make its decision in the morning. Until then there was little the US could do but fight off cyberattacks, which so far had been a nuisance but not crippling.
Pauline returned to her quarters to have lunch with Pippa. They ordered hamburgers from the canteen. Then Pippa said it:
“When will Daddy get here?”
Pauline had been expecting this. She had been trying to reach Gerry but he was not answering his phone. Now she had to tell Pippa the truth. So be it, she thought.
She said: “Daddy and I have a problem.”
Pippa was puzzled but also troubled. She could guess that this would be bad. “What do you mean?”
Pauline hesitated. How much would Pippa understand? How much would Pauline herself have understood at the age of fourteen? She was not sure: it was too long ago and anyway her parents had never split up. She swallowed and said: “Daddy’s fallen in love with someone else.”
Pippa looked bewildered. Clearly she had never imagined this. Like most children, she unthinkingly regarded her parents’ marriage as eternal.
She said: “He’s not leaving us, is he?”
Pippa would see this as Gerry’s abandoning her as well as her mother. But Gerry had not said he was moving out. “I don’t know what he’s going to do,” Pauline said truthfully, though she might have added that she could guess. “All I know is that right now he wants to be with her.”
“What’s wrong with us?”
“I don’t know, honey.” Pauline asked herself the question. Was it her job? Was the sex dull? Or did he simply fancy something different? “Maybe nothing,” she said. “Maybe some men just need change.”
“Who is it, anyway?”
“Someone you know.”
“Really?”
“It’s Ms. Judd.”
Pippa burst out laughing. She stopped just as suddenly. “It’s ludicrous,” she said. “My father and my school principal. Sorry I laughed. It’s not funny. Except it is.”
“I know what you mean. There’s something grotesque about the whole thing.”
“When did it start?”
“Maybe during that trip to Boston.”
“In that crappy hotel? Imagine that!”
“I’d rather not dwell on the details, honey, if you don’t mind.”
“It just feels like everything is falling apart. Nuclear war and Daddy leaving us—what next?”
“We still have each other,” Pauline said. “I promise you, that isn’t going to change.”
Their food arrived. Despite her distress Pippa ate a cheeseburger and fries and drank a chocolate shake. Then she went back to her room.
Pauline finally got Gerry on the phone. “Couple of things I need to talk to you about,” she said. She felt stiffly formal, which was strange with the man she had been sleeping with for fifteen years. She wondered whether Ms. Judd was in the room with him. Where was he, anyway? Her place? A hotel? Perhaps they had both gone to the winery in Middleburg owned by her friend. It would be less dangerous than downtown Washington, though not much.
“Okay,” he said warily. “I’m listening.”
She could tell from his voice that he was happy. Happy without me. Is it my fault? What did I do wrong?
She shoved those foolish thoughts aside. “I’ve told Pippa what’s happening,” she said. “I had to. She couldn’t understand why you weren’t here with us.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump that responsibility on you.” He did not sound very sorry. “I’ve told the Secret Service, not that they hadn’t guessed.”
She said: “You still need to talk to her. She has a lot of questions and I can’t answer them all.”
“Is she with you now?”
“No, she’s in her own room, but she has her phone, you could call her.”
“I will. What was the other thing? You said you had two.”
“Yes.” Pauline was determined not to quarrel with the man she had loved for years. If it was possible, she wanted them both to think fondly of their time together. “I just wanted to say thank you,” she said. “Thank you for the good times. Thank you for loving me as long as you did.”
There was a short silence, and when he spoke he sounded choked up. “That’s a wonderful thing to say.”
“You supported me for years. You deserved more time and attention than I could spare. Too late now, I know, but I’m sorry about that.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. I was privileged to be with you. It was mostly good, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Pauline. “It was mostly good.”
* * *
Some people could not tear themselves away from the TV. Others were partying like it was the end of the world. Tamara and Tab were partying.
Against all the odds they had managed to get married within hours of making the decision and had also organized a wedding party.
Tamara had wanted the humanist woman who had officiated at the marriage of Drew Sandberg, the embassy press officer, to Annette Cecil of MI6. She had called Annette and asked for the woman’s number.
“Tamara!” Annette had screeched. “You’re getting married! Darling, how marvelous!”
“Calm down, calm down.”
“Who is he? I didn’t even know you were dating.”
“Don’t get excited, it’s not for me, it’s for a friend.”
Annette did not believe her. “You secretive cow. I’m desperate to know.”
“Please, Annette, just give me the contact details.”
Annette yielded and produced the information.
The humanist celebrant was called Claire and she was free this evening.
“It’s on,” Tamara had said to Tab, and she had kissed him exuberantly. “Now, where shall we hold the ceremony and the party?”
“The Lamy Hotel has a lovely private room that looks out onto the gardens. It holds about a hundred people. We could do the ceremony and the party in the same place.”
They spent the day organizing everything. The Oasis Room at the Lamy was available. The hotel had large stocks of Travers vintage champagne. Tab booked it.
“Are we going to have dancing?” he said.
“Oh, yes. I fell in love with you when I saw how badly you dance.”
The Malian jazz band Desert Funk were free, and Tamara booked them.
They sent the invitations by email.
Late that afternoon Tamara stood at the open door of Tab’s closet, looking at his suits, and said: “What shall we wear?”
“We must dress up,” he said immediately. “Everyone must know this isn’t, like, a Las Vegas wedding, even though it’s been organized at the last minute. It’s a real marriage, for life.”
After that she had to kiss him again. Then she returned to the closet. “Tuxedo?”
“Nice idea.”
She noticed a plastic suit cover bearing the words teinturerie de l’opéra. It came from a dry cleaner presumably situated near the Place de l’Opéra in Paris. “What’s in here?”
“White tie and tails. I’ve never worn that outfit in Chad. That’s why it’s still in the cleaner’s bag.”
She took the suit out. “Oh, Tab, you’ll look gorgeous in this.”
“I have been told it flatters me. But then you’ll have to wear a ball gown.”
“That’s all right. I have the perfect dress. You’ll get a hard-on just looking.”
At eight o’clock that evening the Oasis Room was packed with about double the number of guests they had invited. No one was turned away.
Tamara wore an ice-pink dress with an eye-popping neckline.
In front of all their friends they vowed to be companions, allies, and lovers for the rest of their lives, however short or long. Claire pronounced them husband and wife, a waiter popped a champagne cork, and everyone clapped.
Desert Funk started to play a smooth blues. The waiters removed the covers from the buffet and poured the champagne. Tamara and Tab got the first two glasses and each took a sip.
Tab said: “You’re stuck with me now. How does it feel?”
Tamara said: “I never imagined I could be this happy.”
* * *
Pippa said: “Mom, you told me you had three conditions for using nuclear weapons.”
Pauline found Pippa’s questions helpful. They made her focus on the basics. “I remember, of course.”
