US Embassy – London, England
1009 Greenwich/ 0509 Eastern
Emily left the consular officer's office with a frown on her face. She had brought all the documents that her grandfather had sent over last night: her grandmother's birth certificate, discharge papers from the United States Navy, marriage certificate and her father's birth certificate. To this, she had added her own birth certificate, listing her father's name. She also had identification, in the form of her police ID card, her passport and her driver's license.
"That's all well and good, Miss Wallace. Unfortunately, you would only qualify for citizenship if it was your mother or father who were American. Your grandmother, without question, was an American citizen," the man had said.
"So, then my father is an American," Emily had said.
"That's not quite accurate. He would have been an American citizen, had he applied for that citizenship. However, based on what you have told me, neither your grandmother nor your father made such an application. Therefore, he is not a citizen."
"But, if he were to make an application, then he would be a citizen?"
"Technically, that is true. And I can see where you're going and it doesn't help you if he did make an application. Because even if he was to be granted citizenship, he has never resided in the United States and therefore would fail the residency requirements necessary to get you citizenship," the consular officer said.
"There must be exceptions, surely," Emily said.
"Very rare ones, which would require approval by the Secretary of State, the Director of Homeland Security or the Department of Defense. In ten years, I've never seen one granted, Miss."
"Then, what would I have to do to become a citizen?"
"The first step would be to become a permanent resident in the United States. Are you married to a US Citizen or related to a US Citizen currently living in the United States?"
"Not yet. That's the reason I'm trying to get citizenship. My fiancé is a US Citizen but we can't marry unless I am a citizen or until he's reassigned," Emily said, not wanting to tell the man who her fiancé was.
"I see," the consular officer said, as his suspicions were raised by Emily's answer. It sounded to him as if one of the Embassy staff had gotten involved with a local. While not forbidden, except for the Marine Guards, it could still have a very negative impact on the person's career. Not that he couldn't see the appeal of the woman seated across from him.
"I'm sorry, Miss, but without someone to sponsor you, getting permanent residence status would be almost impossible. You're a police officer, which wouldn't qualify you as a highly skilled worker necessary to the US economy. The only other option would be as an investor, but you'd need assets of over a million dollars to qualify for that."
"And there are no other options," Emily asked.
"None."
"Well, I thank you for your time, Sir."
With that Emily left, her escort taking her down to the exit and logging her out of the building. She didn't ask to see First Sergeant Galindez, not wanting any potential trouble to come his way. Besides, she would see him that evening and then would be soon enough to pass on the bad news. For now, she'd stop at her grandfather's and return his documents. After that, she'd head for home and clean her apartment.
Alistair Wallace's Home – London, England
1147 Greenwich/ 0647 Eastern
When Emily had arrived, she was greeted at the door by Michael, who functioned not only as her grandfather's driver, but also as his butler during the day. He had taken her coat and told her that he grandfather was in his study. This had a reassuring effect on her, as this was where her grandfather had almost always been every time she visited. Going upstairs, she found him getting a book from one of the shelves that were packed with various books and binders, without a sense of rhyme or reason. A volume of Churchill's History of the English Speaking People sat next to a reference guide on fly fishing which in turn was next to a volume of Middle Eastern history.
"My dear child, what a delightful pleasure," Alistair said as he turned at the sound of the door closing and saw her standing there.
"Grandfather," Emily replied as she went to him for a hug and kiss of the cheek.
"Sit down, sit down. You will join me for lunch, won't you?"
"Certainly."
"Now, did you stop at the United States Embassy yet?" Alistair asked.
"Yes, I did. Bad news there, I'm afraid," Emily replied, before giving a condensed version of what she'd been told as well as returning the documents.
"I'm sorry, child. I would have thought that your grandmother being a United States citizen would have meant you would be one too."
"No, it means Father is one, but his citizenship or potential citizenship doesn't extend to me. As the man at the Embassy said, Father's not really a citizen because he's never applied for citizenship."
"So, what are your plans now?"
"To wait the three years, until Victor is finished with his time as an Embassy Guard and then we'll get married. This doesn't change that, it just pushes the time back, is all."
"And there's no other option?" Alistair asked, trying to think through the puzzle that had been presented to him. He'd spent a lifetime getting things done and it simply wasn't in his nature to accept any 'No' as final.
"Not according to the man I spoke with at the Embassy. Since I'm not eligible for citizenship, I'd have to get permanent residence status and move to the United States. Then, I'd have to apply for naturalization after I've been there five years," Emily said.
"And what about your career?"
"I'd definitely have to start all over, wherever Victor and I settle."
"Have you talked to Victor about all of this?"
"Yes, I have. His thoughts are if we wait the three years until his time is up, he'll retire and stay here in London. That way, I don't have to give up my career. He thinks we'd be fine on his retirement income and my pay and that we could make trips to visit his family, possibly a couple of times a year."
"Well, in my opinion, Victor may well be right, my dear. You've risen fairly high in the ranks, given your age. To have to start all over again would be a massive setback for you," Alistair said softly, wanting his granddaughter to really consider the consequence of her potential decision.
"I know that, but I also hate the thought of Victor giving up his career for me," Emily said.
"I can certainly understand that, but it is a choice that he is freely making, is it not? And sometimes in a relationship, one party has to sacrifice for the benefit of this loved one. Your grandmother did it for, when she stopped being a nurse so that my career could go further. And while I had my regrets about that, she never did."
"Grandmother was an amazing woman, Grandfather."
"Not particularly. She never learned to fix haggis," Alistair said, a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face. Emily laughed out loud at the comment, which had been his intention.
"You old fraud, you hate haggis and Grandmother didn't need to know how to fix haggis because you have a cook," Emily said.
"Ah, perhaps you're right. Speaking of food, why don't we see what Tanya has in mind for me today?"
With that, Alistair led the way out of the room and down the stairs to the dining room. The table was already set for two and a young lady was bringing in bowls of soup.
"Good afternoon, Tanya," Alistair called.
"Good afternoon, Sir. I've got tomato soup for starters and then some more of that Salmon you enjoyed last week, along with roasted potatoes and green beans," Tanya said.
"If it's a good as it was the last time you made it, it will be most welcomed by my stomach if not my waistline."
Tanya smiled at the compliment.
"Do we happen to have any coffee to go along with it?" Alistair asked as he sat down.
"You know that we do, Sir. Black as usual?" Tanya asked, getting a nod. "For you, Miss?"
"Oh, a coffee would be very nice, too. Just a little milk, please."
Tanya left and quickly returned, two mugs of coffee in her hands. She placed them on the table and departed again.
"On a slightly different subject," Alistair said when they were alone. "I spoke with my lawyer this morning and he is redrafting my will, along the lines I mentioned on Saturday. After that, I spoke with my financial expert and said that he should expect a call from you. He'll go over the details, so that you can be prepared for what this will mean."
"I don't understand, Grandfather," Emily said. "I mean, won't you have plenty of time to go over these things with me."
"Yes, I do. But, in matters of money and such, I always have expert advice and you should too. Besides, he and I are working on some things to lessen the tax burden you will face when the time eventually comes and he's better qualified to explain them."
Alistair took a card from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. On it was the name of the man who handed his affairs as well as an address and phone number.
"And the rest of the family?"
"Oh, they'll get something. Pennington told me that as long as each person was mentioned in the will, then it can't be challenged on the ground that I forgot them. So, they'll all be named and an amount will be listed and after all of those are done, whatever is left is yours," Alistair said. "Everything."
"And exactly what is everything, Grandfather?" Emily asked.
"As I said, talk with my finance man. He'll give you the details."
Tanya returned with the main course and Emily was surprised to find that she'd managed to eat all of the soup while talking with her grandfather. The fish tasted amazing, yet slightly different than she had expected, a little spicier. When she finished, she was left wanting more. That explained her grandfather's comment about his waistline if he was experiencing the same feeling.
A few more minutes of chatting ended then the telephone rang. Michael came in to tell Alistair that he had an important call waiting for him. Emily could only shake her head, as she heard him mumble about being retired before getting up from the table. He gave her a hug before he left the room and she made her way out of the house, saying goodbye to Michael as she went.
Alistair watched from his study window as she left the house. Then he turned his attention to the telephone, as well as looking at his watch.
"Good morning, Harrison," he said warmly.
"A very early morning, Sir Alistair," came the reply from the Deputy Director of Central Intelligence, Harrison Kershaw.
"I hope you're not there on my account, my friend."
"Not exactly, but the message that you were interested in talking with me did get some peoples attentions. Not often we get called by retired heads of foreign intelligence services, even if they are our allies."
"My most sincere apologies, especially to our current liaison with your agency," Alistair said.
"How are you, my friend?" Harrison asked.
"As well as can be expected, considering I'm over eighty and alone."
"What about your son, Patrick and his family?"
"Oh, they're around, but I fear our relations are badly broken. All except for my granddaughter Emily," Alistair said, smiling.
"How old is she now? 26, 27?" Harrison asked, remembering her as a young child when he'd been stationed in London in the early 1980s, serving as the CIA's liaison with SIS.
"She's 28 and already a Detective Chief Inspector with the Metropolitan Police."
"How is it you never managed to talk her into joining your old service?"
"Because neither she nor the rest of the family know about that. Only Anna knew and she agreed that it should stay a secret. As far as anyone else was concerned, I worked for the Foreign Office, which explained my frequent trips out of the country and sometimes long absences."
"Still, you could have found a way to suggest something or arranged for a recruiter to meet with her," Harrison said.
"She's happy with what she does and I'm happy for her," Alistair said. "Mind, she'd make an exceptional analyst, but I would have been devastated if she was a field agent and something happened to her. And speaking of Emily, I can't thank you enough for the information on First Sergeant Galindez."
"No need, Sir Alistair. You've done many favors for my country over the years, a little confidential information is a small way of showing our appreciation."
"That's as may be, but I do still thank you for the courtesy."
"I am curious, however. What's your interest in the First Sergeant?" Harrison asked.
"Oh, nothing sinister, I quite assure you, Harrison. No, it's just that he has asked Emily to marry him and I wanted to know what type of man he is. The reports you provided were more than sufficient to quell any apprehensions I may have had," Alistair said.
"Oh, and when is the blessed event going to take place?"
"Not for a few years, unfortunately. First Sergeant Galindez is assigned to the Marine Corps Embassy Security Group and they are forbidden to have non-US citizens as spouses. So, he and Emily will have to wait until after he finishes that assignment before they'll be able to marry."
Harrison grunted at that. He had never looked into the regulations surrounding Marine Embassy Guards or really Marines period. His operations people handled that for him, whenever the Agency needed to "borrow" Marines for various assignments. Come to think of it, they had previously borrowed First Sergeant Galindez, at the behest of the late Clayton Webb. He remembered the after action reports from the disaster down in Paraguay and knew that Galindez had been very helpful down there, before asking to be returned to his Marine Corps duties.
"But that's more than enough talk about my family, Harrison. You're a very busy man and I shouldn't be wasting your time with trivia," Alistair said, drawing his attention back to the telephone.
"Certainly. What can I help you with, today?"
"More like what we might be able to help each other with. Possibly fill in some blank spots and form a picture, if you will. We've uncovered information concerning Sadik Fahd."
"What's the information?" Harrison asked, his attention fully focused.
"That the man your team killed in Africa was not Fahd."
"He was positively identified by two agents, Alistair. Tell me, how good is your information?"
"SIS rates it as a 4, my old friend," Alistair said. In the SIS, a 5 point scale was used, making a 4 akin to an 80 percent. A 5 would mean that they had physical confirmation, such as DNA, to back up visual or audio evidence.
"I see. And when did the resurrection occur?" Harrison asked.
"One of our agents, working customs in Karachi spotted him last week. He got a couple of photographs out to his handler, then went missing. He was found last night, with his eyes removed and his tongue cut out."
"Somebody is sending you a message."
"I agree. But is it solely because he saw Fahd or did he see something else and didn't get the word out," Alistair said.
"Fahd is a relatively big fish in the Al-Qaeda pond. Certainly worth protecting, not to mention someone who is thought to be dead has a much easier time slipping through the cracks than anyone we're actively looking for. Thank you, Alistair. I'll have my people look into it and we'll be in touch with SIS," Harrison said before hanging up the phone.
Alistair hung up on his end too, his thoughts racing as he examined the problem from every conceivable angle. If Fahd truly was alive, then a massive mistake had been made on the part of the CIA. That was a troubling thought, but even more disturbing was the prospect of what the man was up to now. Somehow Alistair doubted it was a quiet retirement that was in Fahd's future. With that thought, he picked up the telephone and called another number, setting in motion a very quiet manhunt. The game was still afoot, he thought with a smile.
Grove End Road – London
1614 Greenwich/ 1114 Eastern
Mattie let herself into the house, closing and locking the door behind her. She then made her way towards the kitchen, intending on getting something to drink before settling down to get her homework done before Harm and Beth got home. Then she remembered that Beth was supposed to have seen the doctor today about her sickness over the weekend. So, she should be home, but Mattie didn't hear anyone.
Getting a bottle of water from the refrigerator, she carried her book bag upstairs and dropped it onto her bed. She had noticed that Harm and Beth's bedroom door was closed as she had walked by and she decided to check and see if Beth might be home sleeping. Moving quietly, she opened the door and saw her laying on the bed, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and sweat pants. Her head came up when she heard the sound of the door, for she'd been more dozing than sleeping. Smiling, she patted the bed next to her for Mattie to come over.
"How was your day, Mattie?" Beth asked.
"It was school. Learned a little, had lunch, then learned a little more," Mattie said with a grin.
"Well, ask a stupid question…."
"Get a stupid answer."
The two looked at each other and then laughed.
"No, school was good. Heather and Hillary invited me to the movies tomorrow after school, if that's alright with you and Harm."
"As long as you get your homework done once you get home, it's good with me. I'll talk with Harm if you want, get him to agree."
"Thanks. So, how was your visit to the doctor's?" Beth asked.
"It was enlightening," Beth replied, a soft smile coming to her face without her even realizing it.
"So, did they figure out what's wrong?"
"Yes, they did."
"So, how soon before you're better?" Mattie asked. "It's not anything contagious or serious, is it?"
"Slow down a minute, Mattie. One question at a time, please," Beth said.
"Sorry."
"OK, first, it's nothing contagious. Second, it is something pretty serious. As for how soon before I'm better, oh, about eight or nine months."
Beth just lay back and watched as Mattie's mind processed the information. She saw it in her eyes, the moment where the little pieces all clicked into place and the puzzle was complete.
"Oh my God! You and Harm, you're going to have a baby," Mattie almost screamed in her excitement. "I'm going to have a little brother or sister! Oh, Beth, I'm so happy for you guys."
"Thanks, Mattie. We're pretty happy too," Beth replied with a grin, before opening her arms for the teen to hug her.
"So, what was with the vomiting?"
"Morning sickness, although why it's called that when you can have it anytime is beyond me."
Reaching over, Beth took a book from the nightstand and held it up for Mattie. It was a pregnancy book she'd picked up at a local bookstore. A couple of others were stacked there as well.
"I guess I'm not the only one with homework," Mattie said with a grin.
"No, you're not," Beth confirmed with a smile.
Outside, a young man with slightly Arabic features had stopped on his walk to seemingly answer his phone. He turned so that his phone ended up facing the house he'd been assigned to do reconnaissance on. Here, he quickly snapped off a half dozen pictures, moving along as if he was lost in conversation. The man had no idea why he was doing what he was doing, whether it was a test from his al-Qaeda handlers or something more serious, perhaps something that would lead to direct action.
The other members of his cell were doing their own work at other locations, all in the aid of various plans being worked out by a man he only knew as a voice on the telephone. That the man was wise was beyond question, as he'd helped the cell achieve much in terms of recruitment and information. Then, so had the internet. Both the Americans and British were so foolish, he thought with a smile. Almost anything one wanted could be found if one simply knew where to look.
What this man did not know, nor did the rest of the cell, was that they were merely pieces being moved by Sadik Fahd. Every day since that terrible day in Paraguay, he'd been planning his revenge. The attack on his camp had only fueled his desire, especially after learning of the death of his cousin. Yet out of that death had come an idea, born from the Western media's reports of his death. He would play dead and he would plan, plan a strike on the scale of 9/11. So, he'd quietly moved into Pakistan and began the process, until he'd been spotted. He couldn't know how much the traitor had given away, but he would speak no more.
That setback meant he would need more time, but patience had won many battles. For now, his men had simple instructions. Gather information on their targets but stay hidden. A great day was coming.
A/N: That's it for this story, but fear not. I am already hard at work on the sequel.