She hummed softly as they lay tangled up in each other. Michael’s favorite lullaby, the mockingbird song. Rikki’s favorite too-their housekeeper, Angelina, used to sing it to them at bedtime. Sarah sang it now until Rakkim drifted off to sleep. A strange lullaby from the old days, about a baby getting one gift after another, each one needing to be replaced. A mockingbird that didn’t sing, a diamond that turned to glass, a dog that wouldn’t bark, a looking glass that broke…Rakkim said that it showed that love wasn’t perfect. All Sarah could think of was that the little baby sure had bad luck.

Chapter 47

Bartholomew stepped into the security dock, stood quietly while the machine completed scanning him. The machine beeped and a guard waved him through. His electronic gear took much longer to be cleared, each tool and gauge minutely examined by a Secret Service agent. His heart rate and skin-conductivity index were probably also being monitored, so he concentrated on images of Paradise and the blessings that awaited him.

Give good news to those who believe and work righteousness that they will have gardens with flowing streams, and pure spouses therein. They abide therein forever.

“Master Inspector,” said the Secret Service agent, beckoning him over.

“Yes, Officer?” said Bartholomew, stomach churning.

The agent was a small man with a cleft chin and a spotless blue uniform with the presidential seal over his heart. He held up one of Bartholomew’s handheld resonance meters. “This is not on the approved list.”

“It’s the latest model,” sputtered Bartholomew. “Just came in last week from Lagos. That’s why it’s not on your list.”

The agent slipped the resonance meter into a plastic bag. Pursed his lips. “You can pick it up on the way out.”

Bartholomew bowed, seething, his cheeks flushed. He had practiced his reaction for weeks now, clenching his jaw muscles to bring color to his cheeks. Give the agent something easy to reject, something to justify his authority-that way they won’t look too closely at the rest of your things, that’s what al-Faisal had said. As always, the Black Robe was correct.

Peterson clapped him on the shoulder as they started up the corridor to the presidential jet. “Don’t worry, Bartholomew, last week they made me remove a decal of the Kaaba from the inside lid of my toolkit, an innocent souvenir from my hajj.”

Bartholomew shook his head. Peterson was the other aeronautical inspector on the flight, a redundancy like everything else on the presidential jet, human and mechanical, designed to ensure maximum security.

“You been to Mexico City before?” said Peterson, a slender modern with a thin strip of beard running along his jaw, a beard in name only. “Oh, you’ve got a treat in store for you. Stick with me, I’ll show you some places you won’t want to tell the imam about.”

Bartholomew smiled. This time he didn’t have to fake the color in his cheeks.

“Does having a baby…does it, you know, change things?” said Leo.

“Things?” said Sarah.

Leo glanced at Michael, the toddler playing with wooden blocks, then back at Sarah. “Things. Sex.”

“Well, you don’t have as much time for sex, but the-you tend to appreciate it more. Don’t look so glum, you and Leanne have plenty of time before you think about having kids.”

“Tell that to Leanne.”

Sarah looked up. “Is she pregnant? Oh, Leo, that’s wonderful.”

“No, no, I was just asking, because…with my brainpower and everything, I probably pack a real punch down there too.” Leo’s face reddened. “You know…sperm-wise.”

“How romantic.”

Sarah and Leo sat on the floor of Michael’s bedroom, watching as he built tall towers of blocks. Leo had been visiting for the last hour, working up to asking questions about marriage. Sarah was glad for the company, eager to take a break from trying to figure out what Eagleton was hiding on the holographic display card. Tired of watching him star in his own pornographic movie. Even a shower didn’t make her feel clean afterward.

Being with Michael allowed her to breathe again. She watched as he balanced a red block on top of a yellow column, then looked up at her and giggled. He reached for another block. Always pushing the limits, angry when the pile collapsed. Just like his daddy.

“What if Leanne loves the baby more than me?” said Leo.

“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself.” Sarah patted Leo’s arm. “Is this why you dropped in? I heard Spider had you locked away for safekeeping.”

“Spider doesn’t think I can take care of myself. Neither does Rikki.”

Sarah knew what Leo meant. Rakkim said they needed to move, so that’s what they were going to do. She hated the idea. This apartment was their nest. Familiar and spacious. She would argue with him, but eventually Rakkim would get his way. He deferred to her judgment on most issues, but when it came to security, his was the only voice heard.

“You want me to help you with the holographic card?” said Leo.

“No, thanks.”

“You sure?”

Sarah watched Michael banging two blocks together, laughing at the sound. It would have taken more than money to tempt Eagleton to climb in bed with the Black Robes. He must have known the risks, the risks if he failed, the even greater risks if he succeeded. Colarusso’s forensic accountants had traced over $30 million deposited into Eagleton’s overseas account in the last five months. Plenty for him to buy his way out of the republic and retire to that South African surf beach. It couldn’t have been just money that drew him in. The challenge…that would have been the ultimate attraction. To do something…enormous, and get away with it. His little secret. The best of all worlds.

The tower of blocks suddenly collapsed, and Michael bellowed. Threw one of the red blocks across the room. Bounced it off a shelf of other toys. He looked up at her.

“You threw it, you go get it,” said Sarah.

Michael heaved himself up, walked over to the shelf, and picked up the block.

Sarah stared at the shelf loaded with toys. Mechanical toys, computerized dragons, plastic soldiers, knights and warriors, paint sets and coloring books. Like the shelves of toys in Eagleton’s back room. She got up, kicked aside some blocks in her haste.

Michael watched her approach, mouth open.

“What is it?” said Leo.

Sarah picked up the Digi-Sketch off the shelf. A gift from her mother. Supposed to encourage artistic expression in babies, but Michael had ignored it after five minutes and never played with it again. It was a small, flat holographic unit, light enough for an infant to hold, with knobs and buttons to draw numbers and colored images on the monitor. Twelve screen options were available with a touch. Eagleton had three of them in his shop, plus a few antique Etch A Sketches. She carefully removed the control chip from the side of the Digi-Sketch. “Leo, would you play with Michael for a little while?”

“You figured it out, didn’t you?” said Leo.

Michael raised his hands toward the control chip. “Mine.”

Typical male, thought Sarah, closing the door to her office behind her.

“I hardly recognize Leo,” chastised Spider, bundled up in spite of the sun on his face.

Rakkim and Spider sat in sagging lawn chairs atop the flat roof of a house in the Catholic sector. Spider’s latest home, run-down from the outside, but wireless surveillance technology was deployed throughout the structure. Anthony Colarusso sat at the kitchen table downstairs, eating roast chicken and arguing football with Spider’s twelve-year-old daughter, who had evidently memorized every game in the history of the sport. Dogs chased each other, ran through wash hung out to dry. Kids played ball in the crumbling streets, rode bikes through the alleys, whooping and hollering. After years living underground, Spider said he was happier here than anyplace else he could imagine.