John Childress - The Beirut Conspiracy

“In the Oval Office with Dr. Khalid. She just went in.”

Dr. Margaret Khalid kept her smile in place as she watched him standing at the window. A big man, an attractive man, perhaps more relaxed than she had remembered. She was here in the Oval Office, power center of a nation intent on destroying the entire Middle East. Her hands shook as she opened her black bag and reached in.

“Dr. Khalid?”

“Yes, Mr. President?”

He smiled without turning around. “Most people who come into the Oval Office are eager to talk. I don’t recall you being the shy type.”

“I’m filling in for Dr. Melikian. I guess I’m a little unnerved and overwhelmed.”

“Frankly, I’m used to the trappings now. Did you know that out there in the dark garden new shoots are emerging from the thorny stalks of the roses? It’s amazing. Even after a severe pruning in the fall and the freezing temperatures of a harsh winter the lengthening daylight of spring will again produce her miracle. In a couple of months we’ll see big bright roses again.”

“Really, sir?” She examined the tiny needle smeared with the deadly toxin.

“Speaking of seeing things again. I saw an old friend of yours the other day.”

She stopped, the syringe held up to the light. “Of mine, Mr. President? I really don’t think…”

“Matthew Richards.”

The syringe fell onto the carpet. Her hand trembled as she reached down. After picking it up she found the President of the United States looking directly at her, unsmiling.

“Are you all right, Doctor?”

“Of course.” Where did her response come from? Her shocked heart? The twisted pit of her stomach?

“Let me tell you a story, Doctor. And you might want to listen very closely. A long time ago I was in love with a woman I couldn’t have.” Pierce stood with his hands behind his back. “She was the daughter of a wealthy Mexican rancher. If I close my eyes I still see her. Jet black hair, a fiery temper and the bearing of a spirited mustang. I was shy and she was wild and free. Yet we fell deeply in love. For one fantastic summer we had a wild, forbidden love affair. Then she went away to school in Mexico City and I back to the States to go to college. I never saw her again.

“I suppose I could have become bitter and angry over lost love. But instead I decided to use that experience as an example of what is possible between two different people. The memory of that love helped save my sanity when I was a POW in Vietnam. I believe the capacity to connect at a meaningful level with another human being is hardwired into all people, Doctor. No matter what their culture, race, religion, or political beliefs. And no degree of brainwashing can take that from us. It can be crusted over but never eliminated.”

“Mr. President…”

“By the way, Maha, Matt still loves you.”

She knew she should charge him. Her trainers had recited it over and over. As a last resort, charge. The needle only has to scratch the skin for the toxin to take effect. Do it now. Now. She really should charge, lunge, drive the needle home. But instead she walked slowly forward, as if in a trance. Matt Richards. A name from another time yet always deep within her. He had spoken his name. How fine it tasted in the air, spoken out loud, not locked away in some forbidden place. Good times, great times. The sounds of the sea, the evening breeze on their faces, starlight. Bedouina and Samir laughing; Maha and Matt finding excuses to steal away in the moonlight. To be alone. To be lovers.

“Stop right there.” A loud voice from the side of the room.

Her feet kept slowing moving. Odd, she didn’t like the harsh lighting. Her contact lenses, awash in tears, gathered the bright light. “Some choices open up a great future, others seal one’s fate forever,” she said, moving toward the President, syringe raised. Just a prick on the skin with the coated needle and death would be irreversible.

“At first we thought Dr. Melikian might be the deep cover assassin after learning of his affiliation with Mohammed al Nagib. But when my secretary said you called earlier about my blood test and that you were coming instead of Dr. Melikian things just sort of fell into place for us. Didn’t they Karl?”

Karl van Ness had come into the Oval Office through the side door. He looked first at Maha, then the President. When the young Marine behind him raised his 9mm Baretta pistol, van Ness stopped him.

“It’s still not too late, Maha,” Pierce said. “Never too late for love and understanding to conquer the bitterness of hate and sorrow.” He looked into her face, but it was slack, blanked out, like some of the POWs in Hanoi. Maha took another faltering step forward, more like a zombie than a purposeful assassin. “If you move any closer the guards will be forced to shoot. You can stop this madness now. We will help you.”

The main door of the Oval Office opened. Noise from outside shattered the silence. Matt, Dr. Melikian and three marine guards stepped in.

“Maha?”

She turned towards Matt’s voice. “Your face. What has happened to you?”

“It’s still me.”

Maha bent over and took out her contact lenses. They fell onto the carpet, landing on the head of the woven eagle. Her green eyes flooded with tears. “I want to see you clearly one last time.” She smiled. Her face was now serene.

“I loved you from that very first moment on the airplane.”

“Matt, I can’t see you behind that face. But I feel it really is you.”

“Everything will be all right. Now put down the syringe, Maha. Just lay it down.”

Her face was again a smooth facade. Empty. She brought the needle to her arm. “It’s time for me to leave, Matthew.” For a brief moment she held his gaze. “May Allah in his infinite wisdom have mercy on my soul.”

“No! Maha!”

The needle slid easily into the back of her left hand, next to the long scar. “My father will be waiting…”

Matt caught her as she fell. A marine quickly grabbed the syringe and stepped back. She looked up at him. “We have seen each other one last time, my darling. I hoped we would.” Her breathing was short and labored.

“What’s on the needle? Tell me,” pleaded Matt. “We’ll get the antidote.”

“I’m sorry I left you so long ago,” she said, ignoring his plea. “But at least I’ll die in your arms.” She coughed. Her face broke out in a cold sweat. “Perhaps something good will come of all this. You must remember all the days of your life, Matthew, that I loved you and only you, with all my heart.”

“It doesn’t have to end, Maha, please tell me. What’s the toxin on the needle?” Her eyes dulled. Matt looked up at the others. “Help. Won’t someone help?”

No one moved. “There is no antidote,” Maha whispered. “That’s the whole point to this game, Matthew. There is no going back. We must start from the here and now. What’s done is done, whether it’s my life or the history of failures in the Middle East. The future of the world will depend on decisions made now. Right now. You must forget the past and move forward.”

“Maha, please.”

She shook her head. “Your arms feel the same. I imagined them around me every day.” She tried to touch his cheek but her hand fell back.

Dr. Melikian checked her pulse. “I’m sorry.”

Matt shook her. “Oh my God. Please… Please.” He held his former love tightly against his chest, feeling the life force slowly draining from her. Suddenly her body sagged, a limp package in his trembling hands. He checked for a pulse. Nothing. Only memories. And an opportunity to start anew.

Someone gently put an arm around his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Matt. I know this is painful.” He found himself staring straight into the eyes of the other woman he thought was dead.