The Sins of the Father
by Amanda Rohrssen
Chapter Ten
“Jacob…”
The voice seemed to echo in the expansive darkness. He was aware of nothing else, though there was little else to notice. A floating sensation overtook him, and he felt as if he could spend eternity in this place. There was nothing but serenity here, so different from the world he had just abandoned.
“Jacob, I’m coming for you…”
A flood of memories filled his empty head, and emotions he never let in shocked through every pore.
“Gail?”
“Just hold on…”
In one jolt he was awake, and pain immediately bled over the back of his skull.
“You know, you are very lucky that my men did not kill you, Agent Mallard…”
Jacob ground his teeth together. Hassan’s slithery voice was like nails on a chalkboard.
“Naturally since you infiltrated their camp you will be telling me everything they disclosed to you.” The reptilian man slid up next to the chair that Jacob had been tied to, and leaned in close to the agent’s ear. “That is, unless…you were going to be double crossing me…”
Jacob jerked at his bonds, but it did little good. He glowered up into the face of the king. “Is that why you tied me up?” he snapped. “Of course I was going to double cross you! How else do you think I got them to trust me? The troops were planning your assassination soon, and I was supposed to help them. What they didn’t know was that I had been planning to turn them over to you the moment I re-entered the palace grounds. But your men attacked before I could get any more information out of them, such as the location of their underground printing network.”
Hassan’s eyes bore in to Jacob’s, drilling through the pupils and scouring for any sign of a lie, but Jacob’s irises were a cold black expanse. “You had better be telling the truth, American,” the king hissed warningly. “Otherwise, all your agency will find of you will be a fingernail.”
The black irises narrowed. “Is that a threat?”
“Not if you are being truthful.” Hassan stood back to his full height and regarded Jacob with a slight sneer on his fanged face. “I am to be speaking to my subjects now, and then I will deal with the rebels. You will stay in here until I know for sure I can trust you.”
“Do I at least get a Playduck?”
Jacob’s sardonic question was lost in the resounding boom of the closed dungeon door.
Thoughts of Gail and the life he had back in Saint Canard filled his mind. In the old days when he was in a scrape, he’d imagined himself a great warrior or a superhero, thwarting his enemies with minimal effort. It was that over-the-top belief in himself that had seen him through. Now, however, those thoughts seemed childish and meaningless. The only thing that mattered was seeing his wife again, and while Jacob never liked anything that was rigid and narrow, this dose of veracity wasn’t as hard to swallow as he had once thought it would be.
He thought of his best friend and the sad fact that he hadn’t had the chance to speak to John in months. He wondered how the reserved gander was getting on. The muffled sound of voices caused him to lift his head, and the door opened, scattering his reverie.
“You’ve brought rations, I hope. I ordered leg of lamb over an hour ago. The service here is terrible.”
“You are funny,” said a voice he recognized.
The woman entered the room, her entire body and face hidden with silken robes and a jeweled headdress. Bending nearer to him, he could see her violet irises beneath thick black eyelashes.
“Do not be afraid. I am Lalla, Queen of Morocco.” Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper, the voice from his dream…and his mirage. “I will help you escape. My husband is not a just man and must be stopped. I believe you are the only person who can do this.”
“I saw you in the desert,” he said bluntly. “And in my dream just now, I heard your voice. How-?”
She put her finger to his lips. “Sssh, there will be time later. Right now I must get you past the guards my husband has posted outside. The rebels are being held in the chambers beneath the palace. I will take you there, but beyond that I cannot help you.”
“Why are you doing this?”
His suspicious gaze did little to deter her as she slid a small dagger from a sheath around her ankle. “I already told you, the king must be stopped. He is a madman and a murderer.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“You have a choice? Don’t move.” The knife cut through the ropes as easily as a hot poker through butter.
Jacob started to get up, but she ushered him back down.
“Wait a moment.”
No sooner had she finished saying this than two thumps could be heard from outside.
“I gave the guards some drugged beer. Now you may pass freely. Most of my husband’s men have gone with him while he is giving his speech. The rest are patrolling the hallways, so you must be cautious. Hurry now.”
He stood up and brushed past her quickly. He was just about out of the room before he turned back around and took the queen’s slender hand in his, giving it a gentle kiss. “Thank you.”
“He will come for us,” Hadia said stubbornly. “He is no traitor. Abba believed in him, I believe in him. He will come, you will see. And we will bring down Hassan just as my father planned.” There were tears standing in her eyes at the mention of her father, but her face had grown hard and cold with the bitterness of loss as she addressed the remnants of Fatih’s rebel forces.
“Hush, child,” one tired, haggard Doberman said softly. “It’s over. We are all going to die here.”
A succession of loud thuds outside of their cell followed by the sound of keys startled them out of their melancholy, and as the door opened they all scuttled to the farthest corner. All of them, that is, save Hadia.
“No one else is going to die if I can help it,” Jacob declared as he stepped into the dim room.
“American!” she cried, lunging forward and throwing her arms around him. “I knew you would come. I knew you would come!”
He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, thinking of Fatih’s heartbroken expression as the life ebbed from his fiery eyes. That same expression was reflected in the eyes of the men hunching behind Hadia, and he could scarcely stand it.
When Hadia finally released him, he regarded the group with grim determination. Just as he opened his bill to speak, however, another voice cut in.
“This is it. What we have been fighting for. What my father and anki died for. And this man will lead us there.” Hadia’s hand fell on Jacob’s shoulder as she continued. “Come. It is either Hassan or us.”
They exited the cell in single file without the trace of a sound to betray their escape. No man stayed behind.
As they passed the unconscious guards, they stole their weapons from their belts. This foresight led to an easy journey through the palace corridors as they snuck up behind men patrolling the hallways and slit their throats. No guns were fired lest it draw attention. The bullets they would save for Hassan.
“This room has a perfect angle overlooking the balcony,” Jacob said as they paused outside of an extravagantly ornate doorway. “We can get a few clear shots in him from there.”
It wasn’t until they’d opened the doors that they realized they were badly outnumbered. Guards filled the room, standing near the grand windows overlooking the public square and barricading each doorway. Hassan had been expecting trouble.
Even as the king’s voice boomed over the crowds and through the walls, Hadia’s voice rang out clear and unafraid.
“For Fatih!!”
A great cry rose up out of the rebels as they charged forward into the room. Gunfire ripped through the air and swords clanged against one another as every man plowed into the fray with bloodthirsty savagery. There was not a moment’s silence. Voices snarled between blasts and the red gleam of blood painted the walls and floor as if they were canvases. Though outmanned, Hadia’s men were well-trained and had desperation at their backs. There was nothing left for them to do but fight, and fight they would until their cause was won.
Yet it wasn’t meant to be.
The last sickening squash of sword through flesh seemed to deafen the room, and only his racing heartbeat sounded in Jacob’s ears. Bodies lay strewn about him in a sea of death, and not a soul moved underneath the stare of his coal black eyes. Faintly he could hear the crowds outside shouting and rioting about something, and he knew Hassan’s reinforcements would be on their way after all of the commotion they’d caused.
He was the last man standing.
There was a cough, corrupted by the choke of blood, and Jacob immediately fell beside Hadia’s trembling body.
“Finish it,” she whispered, her breath ragged and thick with pain. “Before they come, you must kill him. Please.”
He took her hand and held it tightly in his own as he watched the life quickly stream from her beautiful blue eyes. The spirit that he had come to grow fond of abandoned her body, and she was still. He kept hold of her hand, not wanting to believe that the child was gone. It was only when he heard the stampede of armed guards running toward the room that he leapt to his feet, searching for a gun with some ammunition left. From his vantage point he could see that Hassan was still standing on the balcony yelling at his subjects with ferocity etched on his twisted face, but he knew he wouldn’t have this window of opportunity for very long. He rooted through the bodies, carefully avoiding looking at their faces. The guards drew closer.
Finally his sights laid on a rifle not two feet from where he was kneeling, and he scrambled for it. Just as his hand had closed around the weapon, however, what seemed like an endless throng of sentries barreled into the room, surrounding him with every saber, every gun, aimed right at him.
He could no longer hear Hassan’s high pitched hiss, and he sat only a few minutes under the glare of the king’s men until he saw why. Hassan charged into the room, followed by his advisors and a familiar face.
“Mallard?” Agent Jabbaar gaped, flabbergasted. “What are you doing here?”
Jacob didn’t answer him.
“It is obvious, is it not? It seems that I have misjudged your Agent Mallard. He has single-handedly thwarted an assassination attempt.”
“Is that what happened, Mallard? You heard the fighting and stopped an assassination plot?”
The agent’s head dropped down, his calculating eyes dull and grief-stricken. He couldn’t see a way out of this, not one that didn’t involve his own death.
“Well?”
The impatience in Amir’s voice did little to faze Jacob. He could only stare at the lifeless blue eyes of an adolescent girl.
“Yes,” he said softly with a crack in his voice. “Yes, that’s what happened.”
It seemed the rewards for saving a king knew no limits. In Morocco Jacob received a medal of honor from Hassan himself, along with a handsome monetary endowment. Back home he was hailed as a local hero, and he was even given his own homecoming parade that led up to an award ceremony during which Jacob received more medals for valor, service, and bravery. Director Bonaparte promoted him to SHUSH’s highest field agent rank (second only to the chief agent), and as another commendation the organization custom built him a 1962 light yellow E-type series Jaguar. He was the envy of every agent on the payroll. Normally he would have soaked in the admiration and taken pride in his accomplishments, but he knew that it was all a sham. He couldn’t wait until he could put Morocco from his mind forever and simply enjoy life again. Even so, he took all of the awards with a smile and said nothing to compromise the way everyone saw him. Only he knew the truth, and it was a bitter pill to swallow.
The biggest surprise he was to receive came from home. Mere seconds after he’d walked through the front door of their apartment, Gail had him in a stranglehold so tight he could barely take a breath. Choking down some air, he pulled away from her long enough to study her face – the face he’d missed for so long. He caressed her cheek, pushing back a few strands of her dark blonde curls, and kissed her tenderly. Being with her always seemed to make everything right again.
“Jacob,” she whispered as soon as they’d parted. “thank God you’re all right. I’ve been watching the news reports. Why didn’t you come home first?”
“Security measures,” he said a bit sullenly. “I had to disclose everything that happened in great detail, and, uh…I had to sign a few papers.”
She nodded and looked at the ground for a moment, squeezing his hand in both of her own. “I have something to tell you…”
She looked so serious and so coy at the same time, Jacob could only smirk.
“You’ve found someone else, have you? Well, serves me right, the line of work I’m in. I’ll survive somehow, don’t worry about me.” He put the back of his wrist to his forehead in a show of drama, but Gail’s expression didn’t change. A little concerned now, he let the arm fall and gave her his full attention.
She took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”
Instantly his body relaxed. He hadn’t realized how tense he had grown in the last few seconds. “Oh, heh,” he chuckled. “Is that all? I was hoping for something a little more catastro—“ His bill snapped shut and his eyes grew wide. “P-p-p-p-pregnant?” stuttered his usually articulate mouth.
She nodded with a wide grin, and it was at that moment that Jacob Mallard fainted for the first time in his life.
The room was blurry when at last he came to. Something wet and cool was on his forehead, and it took him a while to figure out that it was a washcloth. He was lying on their couch, and he only had moments to wonder what had happened to his wife before she came into view.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” she said tersely, glaring down at him from beside the couch. “Saves me a trip to the ER.”
He blinked a couple of times, trying to reorient himself. Something had just happened, something significant. What was it? His eyes met hers briefly, and he could practically see her irises flaming.
Oh. That.
Sitting up slowly, he pressed the cloth to his forehead and grimaced when he found that even with all of his caution he’d still managed to sit up too fast.
“How can you be pregnant?” he croaked.
“What do you mean ‘how’?” she retorted. “You were there!”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I mean… How far along are you?”
“A month.”
“A month? But we’ve barely been married for a month!”
“Yes, I know,” she said icily. “You do remember our wedding night, don’t you?”
He chuckled. “Boy do I ever. I had been hoping for a repeat of that when I got back.”
“Well, there you are, then. It had to have been that night.”
“Are you sure? I mean, did you have yourself checked out?”
She sighed impatiently. “Yes, yes, of course I did. I was starting to feel very sick after you left, especially in the mornings. They ran a test, and here we are.”
Silence fell over them like fog, and Jacob could barely keep his head in the blinding mess. Gail’s voice sounded a million miles away, but he wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t pick up the anguish in her tone.
“Do you want to have this child…?”
Instantly his eyes were back on her, and the mist dissipated. “I…I don’t know, Gail. A kid is just…so much responsibility…”
A tear slid down her cheek, but she could only glower at him as she stormed out of the room.
“I guess I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight?”
The slam of their bedroom door was his only response.