The Regime: Evil Advances (28 page)

“And that’s okay with you?”

“Maybe it’ll make ‘em work harder.”

THIRTY-SIX

Irene waited for Chloe until she grew mad, then finally marched up the stairs to demand an audience. Chloe had had her driver’s license a few months, and her new sense of freedom and independence had seemed to help her turn a corner in her relationship with Irene. And not for the better.

Chloe drove herself to and from church, arriving late and slipping out early. And especially when Rayford was away, she had become more lax about her curfew, letting it slide twenty to thirty minutes. Irene was going to threaten to take away her keys and ground her after one more offense.

But when she got to the top of the stairs, she overheard Chloe and Raymie.

“Don’t open my door without knocking, Raymie.”

“Sorry. I just wanted to tell ya somethin’.”

“What?”

“I got Jesus in my heart.”

“You what?”

“I prayed and asked Jesus into my heart.”

Irene stopped, holding her breath.

“Well, that’s good, I guess, huh?”

“‘Course it’s good,” Raymie said. “What do you think? You got Jesus in your heart?”

Irene had to exhale and made herself dizzy trying to be quiet.

“No, I don’t, Raymie. But I’m glad you do.”

She is?

“Good for you,” Chloe said.

How sweet, Irene thought. Chloe could have been cold, mean, challenging. She had been so to her little brother more times than Irene cared to remember. Was it possible she somehow realized the import of this? Or did she simply not know how to respond?

“You should get Jesus in your heart too, Chloe,” Raymie said. “Then He’s with you all the time, and when you die you go to heaven.”

“That’s nice.”

“So, will ya?”

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“You ought to think about it soon, because—”

“Don’t bug me about it, or I won’t think about it, okay?”

“But I’m just worried—”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Okay. See ya.”

Raymie ran out and bounded down the stairs, hollering hello to his mother as he went. Irene reached Chloe’s door just as she was shutting it. She saw her mother, looked right into her eyes, and shut the door.

“Chloe!” Irene said.

“What?”

“I need a minute.”

“Busy!”

“No, you’re not! Now open this door or you’re going nowhere tonight.”

Chloe opened the door and headed to her bed with her back to Irene. “What?” she said.

“Can’t you just take a minute for me?”

“Yes! What?”

“I just wanted to say that I appreciated how you reacted to Raymie.”

“You were listening?”

“I didn’t mean to. I was coming to see you and heard him in here.”

“Okay, so?”

“So I appreciate your not poking holes in his news.”

“Well, I should have. What are you brainwashing him about now?”

“It’s not brainwashing, Chloe. It’s what I believe. And now it’s what Raymie believes.”

“Well, it’s not what I believe, and he’s too young to know what he believes. What’s the matter with you, Mom, force-feeding that stuff to an eight-year-old?”

“Will you remember who you’re talking to, young lady?”

“Will you?”

Irene cautioned Chloe about her curfew and warned her of losing her freedom.

Chloe fell silent and merely nodded. Perhaps she was getting the point that her mother still held that card: the car keys. And she was going to the library this evening with her friends.

“Your father gets home late tonight, so you’ll want me to be able to tell him you were in on time.”

“Fine.”

Few things thrilled Nicolae more than reading about himself in the paper or hearing about himself on television. Normally the popularity polls were limited to the top leadership positions in the country, but he had become so popular with the people and with his colleagues—political allies and foes alike—that the polling organization had expanded its research to include him.

While the president and prime minister were nearly in a dead heat with popularity figures just points over 50 percent, Carpathia was judged popular with nearly 70 percent of the populace. That necessitated his winning over even opponents, of course, and his plan was to persuade everybody that he was the real thing.

In his race for a second term in the lower house, he had pulled out his pacifist strategy. And with Romanians tired of skirmishes and civil wars resulting in the deaths of many of their young men and women, not to mention

threatened invasions by Bulgaria and Ukraine, his timing was perfect. Leon Fortunato had counseled him through a diatribe about pacifism that had captured the imagination of the masses.

In the weeks before the election his opponent made the mistake of adopting the opposite view and insisting on debating Carpathia. By the week before the election the polls showed Nicolae so far ahead that even members of the other party were publicly calling for their man to withdraw. Despite an outcry from the party faithful, demanding to know who would carry the flag for their values, opinion polls showed Carpathia expected to win by the largest margin in the history of a contested race, just a few points under what he won with following the death of Emil Tismaneanu.

Carpathia’s opponent did not withdraw, but he eschewed the final debate, removed all advertising to keep from chasing bad money with good, and virtually disappeared from the news. Rumor had it that he voted in absentia and would not even be in Bucharest on election day. That proved true when he was unavailable for comment following a defeat that bore out the polls.

Pundits claimed that Carpathia could have run for the top office in the nation and won in a walk. And they suggested that that should be his next race.

Irene was sitting up at 11:30 pm, an hour past Chloe’s curfew and half an hour before Rayford was expected

home. She had called Chloe’s phone four times, the last time at 11:20, threatening to call the police if she didn’t get a call back in ten minutes. She was frantic, praying, and about to make that call when the phone rang and the caller ID showed it was Chloe.

“Where are you?”

“Just finished having a tire changed, Mom. Sorry. Directly home after that.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Sorry. I got so busy trying to find someone to help; then I left my phone in the car. It won’t happen again. I’m fine.”

No way Irene would be able to sleep. She just wanted to hug her daughter. The girl infuriated her, and because of the hint of a slur in Chloe’s voice, Irene wasn’t entirely sure she believed her. But above all that, Chloe was still her daughter, and Irene was relieved beyond measure to know she was all right. It would be good to be up when Rayford returned too.

Irene was satisfied with her decision to leave Rayford out of this crisis until he got home. She knew he had to be on the ground and likely headed away from O’Hare, but there was no sense troubling him when he could do nothing. When she saw a car pull into the driveway, moving a little too quickly, she thought it might be him. It wasn’t like Rayford to pull in fast, but he did always seem eager to get to bed when he had been gone a long time and got back this late.

Irene jumped when she heard a thud and a crash, including glass breaking. She raced outside to find Chloe

painfully stepping from her car and swearing. She had smashed her right headlight into the corner of the garage, and her mouth was bloody from banging her lips on the steering wheel.

“Were you not even wearing a seat belt?” Irene said, reaching to embrace her. “Chloe!”

“Thanks for caring that I’m okay!” Chloe spat, running past Irene and into the house.

Irene smelled liquor on her breath. “Chloe!”

She had left the car running and even in gear. Irene debated following her to prove she cared more about her than the car, but she couldn’t leave it that way. She carefully backed up and parked it in the garage.

Irene decided she had better attempt to talk to Chloe, but as she mounted the stairs she heard, “Don’t come up here! I’m fine! Just leave me alone!”

“What are you doing about your mouth?”

“Don’t worry. I won’t get blood on your precious carpet!”

“I’m not worried about the carpet, honey. I’m worried about you.”

“I told you I’m fine; now leave me alone!”

“Chloe, have you been drinking? Were you driving drunk?”

Irene couldn’t tell whether it was the bathroom door or Chloe’s bedroom door, but something slammed so loud it shook the house. And woke Raymie.

“What’s goin’ on?” he whined from the top of the stairs.

“Nothing,” Irene whispered from the landing. “Everything’s okay now. Go back to bed.”

She went back outside. While she was in the driveway sweeping the glass, Rayford pulled in. She greeted him with a kiss, but she couldn’t hide her fear and anger, and of course he saw the damage.

“All right,” he said, “I’ll bite.”

Abdullah Ababneh was up early as usual and getting ready to go to the airfield. Yasmine had breakfast cooking. The kids were sleeping, but something was wrong. Yasmine would not maintain eye contact with Abdullah.

“Are you all right?” he said.

“I am fine,” she said evenly.

“Do you need to talk with me about something? something I have done or not done? something I have forgotten?”

“No,” she said, but he was struck that she appeared as sad and downcast as he had ever seen her.

“I can call and go in late if we need to talk,” he said.

“Perhaps later,” she said. “Not now.”

“But there is something then?”

“There is something, but I am not prepared to discuss it.”

“Am I in trouble?”

She smiled but her eyes still showed dread. “No, Abdullah,” she said. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Are you in trouble then?” He said it to elicit a smile, but her hesitation made something stab in the pit of his stomach.

She shook her head. “Later, please.”

“When?”

“When I am ready.”

“This evening?”

She stopped her work and faced him. “When I am ready, Abdullah. Now please, stop pressing me.”

“I just want to know and to help.”

“I know.”

“Call me if you need me to come home.”

Suddenly she was crying, but as he approached her, she waved him off. “Please, just eat and go.”

“I didn’t mean to make you sad,” he said.

She shook her head. “Frankly, it touches me that you seem to care so much.”

THIRTY-SEVEN

This was the last thing Rayford needed after a long day of flying. His heavy had sat more than an hour on the runway at Heathrow due to weather and traffic before the long flight home, so passengers and crew had grown testy.

One thing was sure: Chloe was his daughter. Yes, even more than she was Irene’s. Who knew why? The father-daughter thing? Temperaments? Competition? From what Irene said, it was clear that only Rayford would be able to talk to her, and who knew if even that would work?

“Go to bed, Irene.”

“I won’t sleep till I hear how it went.”

“If you’re awake when I come in, I’ll tell you.”

“I will be. Trust me.”

They climbed the steps together, Rayford peeling off to

Chloe’s bathroom, where he stood outside the closed door. “I’m home,” he said.

“Hi, Dad,” he heard, and she sounded resigned.

“Can we talk when you’re ready?”

“Yeah. Wait for me in my room.”

Rayford stretched out on her bed. A mistake. He nearly dozed. But he knew she dreaded facing him. The last thing he wanted was for her to find him sleeping. He sat up and scanned the room. Pin neat. Just the way he liked to live. Her walls were covered with academic and citizenship and extracurricular awards.

Rayford moved back to the bathroom. “You ‘bout ready, hon?” he said.

“Can’t get this lip to stop bleeding,” she said.

“I’ll get some ice.”

When he got back upstairs Chloe was sitting on her bed with a bloody washcloth over her mouth. He sat next to her and handed her a plastic sandwich bag full of crushed ice.

“Thanks. Sorry, Dad.”

“For what?”

“The garage. The car.”

“How about lying to your mother?”

“I didn’t lie to her! I just didn’t answer my phone.”

“You said you had a flat tire. Your spare hasn’t been touched.”

“Oh, yeah, that. Okay, sorry for lying to Mom too.”

“You’ll have to tell her that.”

Chloe scowled and nodded.

“What else are you sorry for?”

She shrugged. “I think that’s it.”

“So you were where you said you were going to be tonight?”

She nodded. “I was at the library. Have a couple of books to prove it.”

“How long were you there?”

“The whole time.”

Rayford shook his head and stood quickly. “You’re about to really tick me off, Chloe.”

“What?”

“You think I don’t know the library closes at nine? And you think I can’t smell alcohol on your breath even over all that mouth wash you used? And you think I don’t know you’re a better driver than one who bashes into the garage when you’re sober?”

That did it and Chloe broke down. “I’m sorry, Dad. For all of it.”

“What were you drinking and where did you get it?”

“Dad, don’t make me get anyone else in trouble. I was at Sherry’s and she raided the refrigerator and her dad’s liquor cabinet.”

“Are you sick or just drunk?”

“Just tipsy, I think. Guess I’ll know in a while, won’t I?”

“You’re impaired; I’ll tell you that. You want the speech now or in the morning?”

“I want the sentence first.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded miserably.

“You’re going to apologize to your mother, and you’re going to mean it. You scared her to death.”

“I know.”

“She loves you with all her heart. You know that too, don’t you?”

“She has a strange way of showing it sometimes, Dad.”

“But you know, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know.”

“You’re going to pay to have the car and the garage fixed, and you’re not going to borrow either of the other cars. While yours is in the shop, you’re out of luck. Besides that, you’re grounded for the next two weeks.”