David Webb paused to let his fellow travelers deplane before gathering himself and the children together when they arrived at Des Moines International. Even though the aircraft was heating up quickly in the warm May sunshine that beat down outside, Indali and Drächen always found so many interesting things to look at and collect from the cabin floor: gum wrappers, pens, even a small stuffed giraffe once. There was no persuading them to give up this gold mine of treasure to move more quickly.
The last passengers to straggle up the aisle, they made their way to meet Kim, who had gone forward to get their packs out of an overhead bin. Once on the jetway, the adults each swung a child up to ride a hip and strode toward the terminal. Kim was eager to see her parents; excitement was bubbling up inside her.
They cleared the jetway and stepped into the gate area. Pamela Landy stepped forward. Tom Cronin, Teddy, and a man they had never seen before were behind her.
Holy Shit! They had just left Cronin seven hours before; he had walked them to their gate at JFK. David and Kim stopped dead, hearts pumping fast, looking around sharply. Kim for exits. David for everything, anything that might hinder or assist them in case he had to fight. He didn't detect any additional agents or security posted around the gate. The area was open, not cordoned off; other travelers were walking freely past. This was all positive. Still, their weapons were checked with baggage; they were holding their children in their arms. David was setting Indali down behind Kim when Landy spoke.
"We'd like to have a word with you, Kim." Looking at her steadily, not unkindly.
Like a cobra before she strikes, thought Kim.
Kim answered briskly. "The children have had a long trip. We'll take them to my parents, and then I can meet with you. Come with us." Indali and Drächen were silent, eyes plastered to the faces of the strangers. Drächen's thumb searched for her mouth.
The unknown man stepped forward, shook his head. Indicated a doorway off the terminal. "We'll talk in there. Lucy can watch the children if you like."
A woman with an ID badge on a lanyard around her neck stepped forward. Kim read Iowa Department of Human Services.
Bastards! "That won't be necessary," Kim said, evenly. "They'll stay with their father." A bluff: legally speaking, David bore no relationship to Indali. Something that a court order would rectify, just as soon as they could arrange it. It worked; the DHS woman stepped back.
David's eyes were wild: two parts rage, one part visceral terror. Kim held them with her own until she saw a minute reduction in the chaos there. It's going to be okay, Marine.
Kim handed Drächen to him, careful not to touch any part of his body—Teddy had been known to be a bit too quick on the draw in the past. Fortunately, his aim was terrible. But that wouldn't matter at this range. Kim's mind skipped over the rest of her dossier on Teddy: he drank straight espresso day and night and was an inexhaustible source of dirty jokes. Extended the same, obscene invitation to her every time they were teamed on surveillance together. She had turned him down, every time. Hope you're having fun, logging our surveillance…
She knelt down to speak to Indali, face to face. Her hands on her own knees, not her child's shoulder or head. No hug; definitely not. Indali nodded and took David's hand. Kim stepped toward the doorway that Cronin now held open. She saw Teddy sit, his eyes never leaving David. David chose a seat across the waiting area, next to the DHS woman, sitting with both girls in his lap. His eyes on Kim as the door closed behind her.
Landy and the stranger waited for her to sit first. Cronin stood in front of the door. Signals and electronic surveillance was one thing; she and David had made their peace with that. But this: this was agents, right here, in their faces. On her parent's doorstep, for God's sake. Splitting them up, threatening the children. Would David never have more than a moment's peace?
Kim sat down where Landy indicated, took a sip of water from one of three plastic cups on the table, remembering to breathe deeply. Landy and the stranger sat down opposite her.
Kim thought back to her Clandestine Services Training course, at Langley, almost three years before. There had been hours of "training"—really thinly-veiled threats—on the required secrecy agreements, the danger of revealing true affiliation. The women were warned specifically that they were considered higher risk in the area of their love lives than the men. Maybe that's what this was about.
"It's good to see you, Kim," said Landy.
"I wish I could say the same, Pam."
Landy inclined her head, acknowledging the younger woman's anger. "We're here to make sure that you're okay," she said, soothingly. "This is Dan Hanson, newly appointed Director. He wanted to be personally assured of your safety and well-being. There have been some concerns about Stockholm Syndrome." Landy seemed to be holding her breath, her eyes drifting down to the tabletop, lingering over the two rings adorning Kim's tanned left hand before resting on the faux-wood-pattern formica tabletop.
Kim had never seen her do that before. Landy was a deep breather, a look-you-square-in-the-eye, dominant sort. Looking down was not normally in her playbook. Pay attention to changes in behavior, David had told her, back in India, when they were preparing for his recon mission to Pakistan. There's a reason for each one. She struggled to set aside the bedlam of thoughts and emotions running through her and focus on what was happening in the room, right at that moment. The spoken and the unspoken. Landy doesn't want to be here, Kim concluded. This visit was not her idea.
"I don't suffer from Stockholm Syndrome," Kim said, continuing to study Landy. "I have not been, and am not now, a hostage." Not David's hostage, anyway. "I am absolutely making choices based on my own, healthy, free will."
"Ms. Ramsey… May I call you Kim?" Hanson leaned forward.
You can call me Mrs. Webb. "Oh, by all means," said Kim. Please call me by my first name while you threaten me with removal of my children. She took a deep breath, willed her mind to be quiet.
"Kim, you must understand that the Company has concerns about this… Liaison. Between a former case officer and a former target. Information could… Leak. In either direction. It could be disastrous for national security."
At the mention of those two words, Kim's blood ran cold. National security was the name in which Simon Ross had been killed, David and Nicky targeted for death. Blackbriar's foundation was national security. She called on all that she had ever gleaned from working with Landy, and willed herself to be as cold as Pam could be. As ruthless as the functionary, Hanson, sitting across from her. As effective as Jason Bourne. It wasn't going to be hard. They were using the children—Goddamn you, those are our children!—as leverage.
Kim looked down at the table, smiled, a little shyly. Hanson smiled back, patronizingly. Landy's chin rose a quarter-inch, involuntarily, and her eyes narrowed. What are you up to, Kim?
"I understand. How it looks. What your concerns must be… You know—Sir—there are a few things that could be more disastrous. For national security. In my opinion." She looked up at him. He was listening. "Like if, I don't know… A DVD showing training sessions in which American servicemen were waterboarded and subjected to other techniques that the UN Committee defines as torture fell into CNN's hands. So subjected with the aim of turning them into assassins. Or the training notes, detailing the calculation with which these servicemen were selected for certain personality traits and life experiences so as to virtually guarantee success at turning them into unfeeling killers." She paused, deepened her smile to engage her dimples. "That would be truly dire."
Hanson's smile had faded into a flat, frozen frown. Landy and Cronin both seemed to be fascinated by unseen, middle-distant points.
"Are you saying—" Hanson began.
"Oh, just sharing my thoughts with you. Sir. Since you're concerned about my well-being, I thought I might as well let you know what keeps me awake at night." Kim continued smiling, kept her voice light. Her hardening eyes sent a different message, however. "The source of that information could even set up a relay, a dead drop—double blind, or triple blind, even—to ensure his or her safety. Electronic media, paper files, could all be in the hands of someone unknown even to the source. Potential energy, untapped. But if anything happens to the source, or a communication is missed, a signal given or ungiven… Next thing you know, it's all over Anderson Cooper. "
Kim paused a moment, seeing it, hearing it in her mind. As she had done several times over the last few weeks. When a day went by with no communication to them in Chennai from David when he was meeting with Cronin in Pakistan. When he was a few minutes late, coming back from an errand in Hanover. When she first glimpsed Landy's long blonde hair and ruby lipstick in the concourse a few minutes ago. Kim drew a breath to go on.
"The outrage would tear this country apart. Foreign combatants at Abu Ghraib are one thing, but American servicemen? Tortured by their own? All to desensitize them to taking lives in cold blood… The fallout would be truly devastating for whatever agency was at the helm. Not to mention that our black ops playbook would be out there, free for the taking. The World Wide Web; it's a security nightmare…"
"I see what you mean, Kim," said Hanson. "I can assure you that no such thing will ever happen. Our agency is committed to the ongoing security and privacy of all who have served us."
"What a relief," said Kim. "Imagine, if you will, the lawsuits that such servicemen could bring…" She sat back with an air of finality. Looked around the room, at Landy, back at Hanson. Leaned forward again. "There's one thing I'm so curious about; I'd like to ask you, if I may?"
Hanson nodded, once, warily.
"When is the Agency going to produce Jason Bourne's body? I imagine that it was recovered quite some time ago…"
Hanson nodded again, pressing his lips together. "Of course, I can't comment. But rest assured that there will be a statement and supporting documentation when possible."
"Of course," Kim said with satisfaction. She checked her watch. Looked up and blinked. "Now, if there's nothing more, I'd better go. People are waiting for us."
Hanson stood up. Kim and Landy stood up in unison, flinty hazel eyes locked with blue eyes that shone with the merest hint of pride and admiration. The two women nodded at each other. Kim brushed past Cronin—he couldn't look her in the eye, not since Dubrovnik—and left the room. She didn't feel very smug; she and David were in possession of no video footage. But she had just found out that they believed it was possible that they were.
Anne and Brian Ramsey waited in the baggage claim area of the Des Moines airport. Anne was frankly on edge; Brian feigned detachment, but he was anxious underneath his casual façade.
Five days before, Anne had picked up her ringing kitchen telephone, and her world had not stopped rocking since.
"Mom, I got an email from Kim." It was her second-oldest, Greta—Dr. Greta Ramsey. "Mom… Well, I'll just read it to you.
Am arriving home from India 5/24. Accompanied by my husband, his two-year-old daughter, and adopted four-year-old daughter from India. Please prepare Mom and Dad, and make sure they have the carseats, etc., that will be needed to get home. Can't wait to see everyone! But please, just Mom and Dad at the airport.
Love,
Kim
There was a long silence while Anne tried to digest. Finally, she said, "Can you read it again, Sweetie? I'm not sure I understand…"
Eventually, Greta had convinced her that the most important thing was to be ready in the practical ways: get the child safety seat and booster for the car, make up the extra bedrooms, get plenty of groceries, and schedule a family barbecue for Independence Day to celebrate Kim's marriage.
Anne was still trying to take it all in.
"You know Kim, Mom," said Greta. "She can be impetuous, but she always comes out okay. "
Kim's flight number was flashing above a baggage carousel now, and a phalanx of passengers off the Minneapolis-originated flight choked the terminal. Anne and Brian searched the faces, but she did not appear.
After about a thirty-minute wait, she emerged, a backpack on her back and a red-haired toddler on her hip. Next to her strode a man in his thirties, similarly laden, an older, darker child in his arms. Kim saw them and she nodded in their direction, speaking to the man.
"Mom! Dad!" Kim ran the last few steps and fell into the embrace of her two parents. She allowed herself to burst into tears then, David touching her back briefly. All she had been willing to say to him in front of the children was, "It's okay; I'll fill you in later." She knew her parents would assume that she was just being her regular, emotional self.
"Mom, Dad, this is David Webb, my husband." Wiping her face. "This is his daughter, Drächen. And this is my daughter, Indali. Our daughters now!" Both children were set on the ground, and Kim knelt down to put an arm around each. "Girls, these are my parents. You can call them Gran and Gramp; my nieces and nephews do."
David shook Anne's hand, briefly; she was sinking down to the rug to greet the children. He turned to Brian, straightened to attention, and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Sir," he said.
"Likewise," said Brian, looking him in the eye, meeting his grip—iron to iron on both counts. "Do you have any bags checked?" He looked toward the carousel.
"Yes, Sir; I see it." David strode to the carousel and retrieved a small metal briefcase. Usually, he would have just ditched his weapon, but it turned out that Kim was sentimental about her Sig Sauer, so he had produced some papers showing his legal ownership of the Glock as well, and they had checked the firearms in baggage.
Brian eyed the case, took Kim's backpack off her shoulder. He hadn't known that Kim had taken her weapon with her to India. Maybe a habit she developed while working for Central Intelligence. He did know of her attachment to her M11, however. In his experience, the higher rated the marksman, the more attached he—or she—would be to a firearm. "Shall we go get the car?"
"Oh, yes, Honey; thanks." Anne was pulling some books out of her purse. The little girls drew closer as she started to read.
"Don't get too comfortable, now, we'll be back in ten minutes," Brian told her.
She nodded distractedly, waved him away.
David dropped the backpacks and case into the rear of the Honda minivan, closed the hatch. He jumped into the front, next to Brian.
"We borrowed Kim's sister's minivan for the week," said the older man. "No way to fit you all into the LeSabre…"
"Kim tells me you were in the Corps," David said. Seeking common ground. Teaming.
"Second Battalion Ninth. '71 to '75."
"You saw some heavy action in Khe San and Saigon." David chose not to mention the Mayaguez.
"You're in the Corps?"
"'88-'99. I got into Special Operations in '92."
Brian nodded. Knowing that David served in MSOC told him more about the man than hours of shooting the bull ever would. They were turning into the terminal. "What were you doing in India?"
"Helping rebuild the orphanage where Kim was working." He and Kim had agreed that they had to be together to say more. Brian pulled the Honda up in the No Stopping zone. "I'll go get them," said David Webb, hopping out of the car.
The afternoon passed with the children as the central focus. Sensitive to their needs, no one asked any questions or started filling in any blanks. Anne had fulfilled Kim's emailed shopping list, and Kim headed straight to the kitchen to cook Sister Angela's dal recipe. She was concerned that American food wouldn't appeal to Indali and Drächen, or settle well in their stomachs.
"I'm cooking a pot roast," her mother said.
"Oh, Mom, thank you; it smells great. David and I will love that, but you know how young children are. It's best for the little ones to have something familiar to eat. About the only food they know is Indian food. Well, that, and we had some great seafood just now on our vacation. They need a good, homecooked meal after all the travel."
Anne realized suddenly, irrefutably, that Kim was a mother now, and that she had two more grandchildren. She put her arms around her oldest daughter and kissed her cheek. Kim glanced at her, smiled, kept rummaging in the cupboard.
"Oh! You found jasmine rice; lovely!" She glanced out the window at the men playing with the children out back. There was a huge playscape there, installed for the enjoyment of Anne and Brian's grandchildren. Indali and Drächen were giving it a go.
"Those children are just the sweetest," said Anne, joining her at the window.
"Aren't they? I feel so lucky; I could hardly believe it when I adopted Indali…"
"Kim!" Ellen's voice rang through the house as the front door opened.
Kim glanced at her mother, dropped the wooden spoon, and dashed to hug her sister. "Come outside to meet the girls. And David," Anne heard her eldest say to her youngest. Looking out the window, she picked up the wooden spoon and started stirring.
Hours later, supper eaten and dishes washed (by David: "Let me, ma'am," he said to Anne, jumping up from the table), children bathed and tucked in, Kim and David settled onto the family room sofa for the interrogation. Ellen got up to leave, but Kim said, "Why don't you stay, Sweetie? You must have questions, too."
"Well, we just want to know about your trip, Honey… What you did and what you saw in India… About Indali and how you met David and Drächen." Anne spoke softly.
"Well," said Kim, "India is amazing, so beautiful, so vibrant. But, of course, the devastation of the tsunami was intense; so many killed. Funeral pyres everywhere for weeks and weeks. People were getting sick from lack of clean water… I was stationed at Kalipatnam; there's an orphanage there. Drächen and Indali were living at the orphanage. They both just won my heart; so different on the outside, but like twins on the inside. So much love between them… Drächen became very ill a few weeks after the tsunami. David came to get her, and that's when we met. Thank goodness, Drächen recovered."
David didn't wait for anyone to ask the obvious question. "Drächen's mother, Marie, died in India, last year." Anne and Brian exchanged a glance. "Drächen was staying with Father John until I could care for her on my own. I got to Kalipatnam as soon as I could after the tsunami. She was so sick… It's fortunate that Kim was there. Anyway, I stayed on to help rebuild the orphanage."
"Drächen in such an interesting name for a little girl," said Anne.
"Marie was a unique individual," said David.
Kim smiled at him, a sad smile, and played with his fingers.
"Where are you from, David?" asked Anne.
"Nixa. Missouri," said David. "In a day or two, I'll be driving down there to look into some things."
"Are your folks there?"
"My parents died when I was eight."
"What line of work are you in, now, David?" asked Brian.
"I was doing government work up until about two-three years ago," answered David, holding his gaze steadily.
"Like Kim?" her father asked. Anne made small, cautionary sound at her husband.
David's eyes did not waver. Kim was squeezing his hand, looking at her lap; he squeezed back, just a pulse. "No, not really," he said. They had agreed that now was not the time, but that they would have to share more sometime soon. For everybody's safety.
Brian looked away first, let it drop. There was a silence.
"I want to show you our marriage certificate," Kim said, suddenly. Her face glowed as she passed around the document, a keepsake that bore a line drawing of St. Blase Church in Drubrovnik, Croatia. David saw Kim's parents noticing her happiness and felt a little more at ease. He imagined that the marriage certificate itself was a reassurance to them. In its absence, their Catholicism would have required that the sleeping arrangements, at the very least, be different.
"Just think," said Kim. "St. Blase was in ruins just a short time ago, bombed in the Kosovo War. Now it's totally restored, rebuilt by the faith and hard work of its congregation." Her two hands wrapped firmly around David's hand, eyes clear and voice steady.
Her parents nodded; understanding their girl, her analogy.
"Hey, Ellen," Kim said, "Would you keep an ear open for the girls in the morning? David and I like to get our run out of the way first thing. They already love you so much; if they wake up and we're not here, will you play with them until we get back? We won't be long."
Ellen thought that this David was a huge improvement over Kim dating her science teacher. She could hardly wait to tell Becca about the handsome man that her sister brought home with her from India. It was all so romantic! "Of course," she answered her sister. "Do you mean Marine first thing, or civilian first thing?"
Anne and Kim chuckled, and Kim clarified, "Marine first thing."
Her father caught Ellen's eye as she stood up to go to bed. "David and Kim are treating you like a grownup, letting you hear personal things," he told her. "I know you won't let them down by repeating any of it, to anybody." He fixed her with an extra-stern gaze.
"Okay, Dad," said Ellen, a little disappointed. Becca would just have to wonder, like everyone else.
"You both must be tired, after your long trip," said Anne said to Kim and David. "Why don't you go on up? We have lots of time to get acquainted."
Kim and David stood up.
"Good night, Ma'am, Sir," he said to Kim's parents.
Kim kissed her mother and father. "Thanks for welcoming everyone on such short notice," she said to them.
Ellen caught her sister's eye. "Did you take a honeymoon trip, Kim?" she asked, her eyes glowing with romantic projections.
Kim paused, the look on her face unreadable. Nodded. "Croatia. I'll tell you about it tomorrow, okay?" She kissed her sister's cheek and followed David out of the room.
