Terminal Justice (39 page)

“Could she be the one the CIA is looking for?” David sounded hopeful.

“Possibly, but I doubt it. I don’t know her well, but what I do know leads me to think that she’s better at following orders than giving them.”

Placing his arm around Kristen’s shoulders, David led her down the walk, sidestepping children, couples, and families of tourists wearing Sea World caps or San Diego Zoo T-shirts.

“I have an uncomfortable feeling, Kristen, that something somewhere isn’t right. I don’t know what it is, or even if I should be involved.”

“Now who’s being subjective?” Kristen asked. “I can tell you right now that I don’t believe for a minute that A.J. has done anything that can be considered criminal, unless caring too much is a felony.”

“I know,” David agreed. “I appreciate your willingness to listen. I was afraid that when you heard what I had to say that you’d bite my head off.”

“I was angry at first, still am, but I can see that you’re concerned for A.J. and that you feel the same loyalty that I do. It was unfair for those two agents to put you in this situation, even if they thought they were doing the right thing.”

“Being suspicious is their job. I imagine the CIA is extremely embarrassed by all this.”

“What are you going to do now?” Kristen asked.

“What can I do? For that matter, who am I to do anything? If I had evidence of wrongdoing, especially where it touches on national security, then I would do whatever was right, but as it stands now, I know nothing and have no way of learning anything. It’s pretty much a dead issue. Mahli’s my biggest concern.”

“I can’t believe that he’s coming to this country at the invitation of the president,” Kristen snapped bitterly. “That man killed Dr. Rhodes, he doesn’t deserve to live, let alone come over here pretending to represent Somalia. It’s so arrogant for him to demand to see A.J.”

“That’s precisely my concern,” David confided. “I don’t believe that A.J. is guilty of any crime, but how will he respond when he’s standing within striking distance of Mahli? And if A.J. is everything that Agents Summers and Cooper say, then the situation could be dangerous for everyone involved.”

Shaking her head, Kristen said, “A.J.’s not a violent man by nature. He loves peace.”

“This is going to be difficult for me.”

“You?”

“I’m going to Disneyland with A.J.,” she said matter-of-factly. “Part of my job is to record the event on videotape.” David felt a sudden rush of fear. In his mind he saw Kristen standing near Mahli, a man he had been told was a killer. “I think we’ll all be okay. Secret Service people will be around.”

David only nodded. Something about this whole situation upset him and made his stomach tighten in apprehension.

They walked a little farther before he spoke. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to ask you not to go, would it?”

“No,” Kristen replied quickly. “It’s part of my job, and I need to go. But thanks for caring about me.”

“Why do you suppose Mahli requested a meeting with A.J.? It doesn’t seem right. Surely he knows that A.J.’s aware of his activities.”

“Who knows what goes through the mind of someone as loony as Mahli? Why choose Disneyland of all places? He’s an egomaniac who lives to serve and amuse himself. Maybe this is one way to rub salt in the wound.”

“But all A.J. ever tried to do is help.”

“Unfortunately, that carries little weight with men like Mahli. To him, A.J. and the rest of us are interlopers who get in the way of his plans, whatever those may be. It’s not uncommon for those being helped to turn on those who offered the help in the first place. You, of all people, should know that.”

“Me? How so?”

“Think of your Bible,” she said as she took his arm. “How long did it take for the people shouting praises to Jesus during His triumphal entry to turn and cry ‘Crucify Him’?”

David nodded bleakly. “Not long—not long at all.”

“People are no different today than then. Who knows, maybe we’re worse.”

“Still,” David uttered, “the president and his advisers must know the kind of man Mahli is. Surely, they wouldn’t want to be yoked with the likes of him.”

Kristen shrugged, “You’ve heard it before, politics makes for strange bedfellows.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No yeah-buts,” Kristen interrupted. “We can talk about this all day and night and nothing will change. We’re powerless in this situation.”

Powerless
, David thought.
That’s the right word, the perfect word to describe how I feel
.

When David arrived home that evening, the phone was ringing. He heard the first ring as he inserted his key into the lock of the front
door. He knew that after the third ring, the call would automatically be transferred to his message manager and he would have to retrieve the caller’s message, if he or she left one. “Hello?”

“David? This is A.J. I’m glad I caught you. You sound winded.”

“I just now arrived home and had to run to catch the phone.”

“Been out enjoying the day?” A.J. asked pleasantly.

“Kristen and I went to Balboa Park and then to the zoo. It’s been a long day.”

“But an enjoyable one, I trust.” David felt oddly embarrassed. “Kristen’s a lovely woman and smart too. You make a great couple.”

“She keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure,” David replied.

“I’m sure she does. I’m sure she does.” A.J. seemed mildly distracted, as if his mind were elsewhere. “Sorry to bother you at home on a weekend, David, but I have a favor to ask. You’re aware of my upcoming trip to Anaheim. I’m taking only a few people with me—Peter’s going, and Kristen too. The president asked us to keep the group small, something to do with the Secret Service. But now I have a problem. Timmy overheard me talking about the trip with Peter and picked up that we’re going to be at Disneyland. Naturally he wanted to go, and since he’s never been, I couldn’t tell him no. My problem is that I can’t keep an eye on him.”

“Will the Secret Service allow Timmy to go along?”

“I insisted, and since I’m doing the president a favor by meeting with that …” A.J. broke off in midsentence. “The short answer is yes, Timmy can go. Which brings me back to my original problem. I can hire someone to, in essence, baby-sit, but I think Timmy would enjoy the experience more if he was with someone he knew and liked.”

“Such as me?”

“Such as you. How about it, David. Would you like a free trip to Disneyland?”

“Sure, as long as I don’t have to leave tonight. My feet are killing me.”

“Great. You and Timmy will stay with us, but you’ll need to
keep him back from the main group. You know how excited he gets.”

“Yes, I know.”

“He really likes you,” A.J. said. “You’ve made quite an impression on him.”

“I think the world of him too.”

“David,” A.J.’s voice became serious, “this is not an easy situation for any of us. I make no apologies for my avid disdain for Mahli. No,
disdain
doesn’t say it. I hate this man, David. I know your belief system finds that repulsive, but I truly hate this man, and I hate the day he climbed out from under his rock. But I have to do this. Much of our work requires close ties to foreign-policy makers in Washington. They listen when I talk and often act when I request it. For that and many other reasons, I owe them a favor or two, and they’re calling in my chit. It’s time for me to pay a little on the outstanding balance, if you know what I mean.”

“I know, A.J., and no one thinks less of you for your … sacrifice.”

“
Sacrifice
. That’s a good word for it all right, a sacrifice. I’ve made many, but standing shoulder to shoulder with this man will be one of the greatest. The president is going to owe me big for this one.”

“Maybe he can get you a break on next year’s taxes,” David said humorously. A.J. laughed. It was good to hear the tension leave his voice, even for a moment.

“I appreciate this, David,” A.J. said a moment later, “and I appreciate all your work. It’s good to have a friend these days.”

“It’s good to have a friend any day,” David agreed.

A.J. sighed heavily. “We are friends, aren’t we David? Not just employer, employee, but real friends?”

It was an odd question, and David could hear the genuine loneliness in A.J.’s voice. David had always been one to think that the rich and powerful never lacked for company or friendship. His dealings with A.J. had proven how wrong he had been. Men like
A.J., wealthy and committed to a worthy cause, were often lonesome. Very few understood their needs, hopes, and dreams and assumed that the normal anxieties common to most were not problems for the rich. A.J. lived a largely solitary life, consumed by his drive to end world hunger.

“Yes, A.J., we’re friends. No matter what, we will always be friends.”

“That’s good to hear, David. Real good to hear.”

“Are you all right, A.J.? You sound down.”

“I am, but it’s just weariness. I’m going to take a late jog, have some dinner, and go to bed. I’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday. Kristen and I were planning on going to church. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Thanks, but I must say no. I’ve got a great deal to do tomorrow, including a meeting with some Secret Service agents. They’re going to ask a bunch of questions about everyone who’s going. You know, to see if any of us have screws loose. But I’ll take a rain check, okay?”

“Okay.” David hung up the phone, then closed the door he had left open when he had run to answer the phone. Night had fallen, and a cool breeze was blowing into the room, along with a few moths attracted by the light in the living room. A few minutes later, he was seated in front of the television watching a
National Geographic
special on the Great Rift Valley in Africa. The images of Africa brought back the sense of adventure, awe, and even fear that he had felt while there.

The rift, which he had only seen briefly and from the air, fascinated him. In many ways it was a metaphor for human life: Poverty and politics have separated the needy from the suppliers as sure as the Rift Valley had separated the physical land of Africa.
How long would it take to fill in that gorge?
David wondered silently.
However long, it would probably be easier than ending the hunger that fills that country
.

THE NEWS OF MAHLI’S ARRIVAL IN THE UNITED States was carried to every region of the country, to an extent that amazed even President Gillian Laine’s expert publicity team who had worked feverishly to promote the event as a harbinger of the future peace in East Africa. From newspapers to the Internet, news of the warlord’s activities were documented and discussed. Excerpts of his speech before the United Nations were broadcast on every major network, as were the cautiously kind words of the UN secretary-general who praised Mahli for his efforts in Somalia. A careful eye, however, could detect her disinclination toward the man.

When Mahli spoke to the press club in Washington, D.C., he did so in the clear but still accented English he had mastered during his days in a London college. His speech had been well rehearsed and confidently delivered. He made no promises; he asked no favors. He spoke of Africa as the cradle of civilization and as the fountain from which all humanity had sprung. He then promptly accused the Western world of forgetting its past mistakes.

“The black African may no longer be a slave to the wealthy plantation owners of your past, but we have been kept in slavery by the harsh masters of economic servitude. The time has come for the world to grant the simple respect and dignity to East Africans that all men deserve. Our technology may be inferior to the West, but we are still a people of pride who love our families and know the dignity of work. We are a people to be respected, and we no longer
request that respect—we demand it.” The speech was greeted with polite applause.

Mahli proved himself an able dignitary who, despite his limited experience with such, breezed easily through the crowd of party-goers at a reception held in his honor at the White House. The room had been filled with senators, dignitaries, captains of industry, and military leaders as well as stars and starlets. Mahli stood straight, bowed slightly when the occasion called for it, smiled broadly, shook hands, and discussed African politics fervently.

Not everyone greeted Mahli with respect and admiration. A small group of conservative senators, who could not forget the crimes of Somalia against American military personnel half a decade before, protested his presence in written editorials and hastily called press conferences. Few read the editorials, and fewer still attended the press conferences. The White House answered the critics with a cursory reminder that Mahli had not been involved with the real criminal, Mohammed Farah Aidid. The response was enough to quiet most of the fears of the populace, who had become fascinated by the little man from the little land.

David followed Mahli’s activities closely, reading every article in the papers and newsmagazines and watching intently each broadcast of his movements. Watching a
NewsHour with Jim Lehrer
special report on PBS about the Somali’s visit, David wondered how such an innocuous-appearing man could draw as much attention as Mahli did. David knew that fact made Mahli all the more dangerous.