“Still?” I’d thought that was a one-semester boo-boo.
“Yeah. And last fall we did a whole month called ‘Digging on Darwin.’ We all read
On the Origin of Species
and did a project on it. We made a Tree of Life out of the lids of my old shoeboxes. It was in the front hall of our school for a whole semester. Farrah, where have you been? It’s like you don’t even know me.”
Is it possible to be so busy thinking people are stupid that you forget to notice that they’re not? Is it possible that we were having this conversation when there were forty minutes to stop a bombing? “I’m sorry, Olive. Go on.”
“So the display we made was exactly like the diagram in Darwin’s paper. It’s the only diagram in the whole thing, and he uses it to describe how all of life is connected. The Tree of Life has ‘ever branching and beautiful ramifications.’ That’s a quote.” She raised both of her eyebrows at me for emphasis.
I’m sorry, who are you, and what have you done with my blond friend?
My dad had no problem taking help from Olive. “That’s exactly what it is. The Tree of Life. Where would there be a mockery of it?”
Olive was on it again, arm raised and waving. “I think I know that too. When we were designing the project, I researched other drawings and sculptures of the Tree of Life. The coolest one was at the Animal Kingdom at Disney World. But I didn’t have enough shoeboxes to pull it off. Hard to believe, right? Anyway, it’s this huge concrete and plastic tree that’s supposed to have a representation of every animal in the world. Like a fake tree would be a mockery, wouldn’t it?”
I made a mental note to look into the existence of parallel universes, because I was pretty sure I’d slipped into one. My dad was nodding at her. “That has to be it. Imagine how Jonas Furnis would regard a plastic tree that purports to be a symbol of the connectedness of the natural world.”
That was enough for Mr. Bennett. “We’ll have to have to send a squad to Disney World immediately. But we’ll work through the CIA. We cannot risk tipping off the FBI in case Steven had an accomplice there.”
He got on the phone and in a slow and measured voice described only the most pertinent details: There was good reason to believe that Jonas Furnis was planning to attack Disney World in the next thirty minutes, and there was no time to explain. A full debriefing would follow after the crisis was averted.
This was background noise. I got up from the table and hugged Olive. “I don’t know who I thought you were.”
“Uh, same here? And why is everybody calling you Digit?”
“Danny can explain it to you. And, Danny? My kid brother? Really? What’s with you two?”
“He’s an awesome guy.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I curled up in my mom’s arms on the couch, physically and emotionally wiped out. Maybe I was a little out of shape. I closed my eyes and prayed that we were right and that they could be stopped in time and captured and that this would be over. At some point my mom got up and John took her place, holding me and stroking my hair. I guessed the cat was out of the bag about us, and it seemed not to matter, anyway. I snuggled up to his chest, feeling like I never wanted to move again.
I didn’t lift my head or open my eyes until I heard Mr. Bennett answer a call and say, “Got ’em? How many? Great? Uh-huh. Okay, great work, that was close. Tell Jameson I’ll call him in a few hours and give him the whole story. In the meantime, I need an unmarked car and a body bag at the following address . . .”
“Hey, Digit.” John was holding me tight. “It’s okay. It’s over. You did it. They’re safe.” Relief poured over me. I wiped my eyes.
Steven’s body was carried out by two plainclothes CIA agents and tossed into the back of a Chevy Suburban. My mom busied herself in the kitchen, searching for appropriate post-terrorist-catching snacks. Seemed like an occasion for a nice Chex Mix.
Danny came over and kissed the top of my head. “Nice work, Digit.” He and Olive looked a little freaked out and went up to his room, presumably to process what they’d just seen.
“I want that bikini back . . .” I called after them.
My dad sat in his favorite chair, still and silent, watching John and me curiously. I felt like with all we’d seen in that room today, coming clean about a little romance wouldn’t be such a big deal. I decided to open the lines of communication.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said, with smiling eyes and a little nod. “It’s okay. I think it’s okay.”
“Thanks,” John said, understanding the meaning of the moment much sooner than I did.
Mr. Bennett rushed into the room, phone in hand but away from his ear for the first time in an hour. “John, we’ve got to get going. We have two senior CIA agents and a representative from the Homeland Security office meeting us at the FBI in fifteen minutes. We’ll retrieve Steven’s file on Jonas Furnis and then meet with Damage Control.”
“Damage Control?” I asked. “For what?”
“A media-savvy team is meeting already to figure out how to unwind this whole lie. We need to get you unkidnapped and into your normal life but keep it out of the press so that Jonas Furnis will continue thinking you are dead until they are shut down and have bigger problems. When they find out we have all their financial records and hopefully taped correspondence, they’re not going to worry about one girl who can identify one operative.” Mr. Bennett was already walking out of the room as he finished his sentence. “John, come on!”
John got up and started to follow his dad out, as if by habit. He stopped and turned back around to me and took my hand. “I’ll come back later.”
“Okay.” I didn’t get up. Was he really leaving?
He walked over to my dad, who stood, and shook his hand. “Thank you for everything, Mr. Higgins. I’m really glad we could bring her back safely.” He blushed a little at his understatement. He started to say something else to my dad but changed his mind. Then he turned to me and started to say something and again changed his mind. Finally he turned and left.
My dad came over and sat by me, a little smug. “So, you’re in love. It’s about time.”
I shoved him a little. “He said he was coming back, right? I heard him say that—did you?”
“Yes, sweetheart, but probably not tonight. He lives here, doesn’t he? He will probably take his dad back to his apartment and come back in the morning. Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m going to bed.” I walked up to my room and did a nosedive into my bed. I imagined I could still smell John there, feel his imprint from the night before. But I really couldn’t. That annoyed me. In the movies, people are always sniffing stuff to catch a whiff of their absent lover. In real life, things just smell like Bounce dryer sheets.
I got in bed, my own bed, for the first time in what felt like months. I stared up at my bumper stickers, all so familiar but new somehow. Everything was new, but it was as if hunting terrorists, cheating death, and falling in love had changed my very DNA. And now all that was nearly over, except for the John part. That was just starting. Right?
I sat up in bed.
What now?
I wondered it for the first time. Life had been so minute to minute, everything changing on a dime, and I hadn’t really thought through to next week and next month. This thing between John and me wasn’t going to be like a wartime romance, over when life was back to normal, was it? I mean, I was probably going back to school on Monday. He was going to go back to managing the Fruitcake Room. Would I see him at night? Talk on the phone? Then it would be summer and I’d have lots of time, but he had a job. We could figure it out, I guess. The thought of spending this whole night without him was excruciating, and the idea that I’d be at school all day with him working nine to five was more than I could consider.
But then I was moving to Boston at the end of August, starting college, and going in a totally different direction. Would we do that long-distance relationship thing that never works out on TV? Maybe by August we’d be on sounder footing, and our relationship could stand the distance. The truth was that I really had no idea what tomorrow was going to look like. I just knew that tomorrow I would wake up and think about John before I thought about anything else. I knew that I loved him and felt like he loved me too. That would be enough, right?
I was up and fully dressed by seven. I still couldn’t leave the house and had no idea how to get in touch with John. When the phone rang at eight, I sprinted to the kitchen to see my dad already had it. “Sure, John, she’s right here.”
I nearly ripped the phone from his hand, trying to calm my stomach and my voice before I said anything. Did I really think he was just gone? I took a few steps out of the room before speaking. “Hey.”
“Hey. You know this is the first time I’ve ever spoken to you on the phone? Am I calling too early?”
“No, this is great, I’ve been up forever.” I plopped down on the couch, hoping this call would last for hours.
“I didn’t sleep either. I guess I’ve gotten used to you.” He was so normal, he could have been sitting right next to me. This was going to be okay.
“Are you coming over?” I asked, relieved that we weren’t going to be playing it cool.
“Actually, I’m calling to give you guys the official schedule of the day. Can your parents bring you to FBI headquarters at ten? You’ll have to lie down in the back, so as not to be seen. Damage Control wants to go over some things with you, and I think the Bureau chief is going to come in with a team to debrief us. No big deal, but they are going to ask a ton of questions about what happened, for the record, before we totally forget.”
“Sure, we’ll meet you there,” I said.
“Okay, good.”
“Okay.” A few seconds passed.
“And then, I was going to ask you, um, my dad is flying back to New York tonight, and I was wondering if you’d want to . . . I mean, if your parents would let you come hang out here tonight. I’d pick you up and bring you home at whatever time they said. We could just hang out like regular people, order a pizza, and watch a movie.” Was he actually nervous to ask me that?
“It’s a date. I can’t think of anything in the world I’d rather do.” This whole being-straight-with-people thing was getting to be a habit.
“Me either. It was all I could think about last night, just imagining what it would be like to have you here. Farrah, this is all really strange for me. I’ve never felt like this before.”
More with the honesty. “Neither have I, not even close.”
“I wish I knew how to make this day go by faster. Hang on.” John put his hand half over the phone and was talking to his dad. “Yes, I have her on the line. They are going to meet us at headquarters for the debriefing. Yes, I told her she should lie down in the back . . . Okay. Sorry about that Farrah. Let’s just talk more about that at our meeting later.”
I giggled a little. “Okay. See you at ten.” That was only in two hours, I told myself. I could make it.
My parents and I arrived at FBI headquarters a little before ten. I gave a wave to the surveillance cameras, knowing the security guys would recognize me and have a chuckle. In the lobby, we were escorted to an elevator bank that took us to the thirty-ninth floor. John was standing there, waiting in another expensive gray suit, when the doors opened. I tried as hard as I could not to throw my arms around him, managing to stop at a little pat on the arm. “Hi.”
“Hi, Farrah. Mr. and Mrs. Higgins, please come this way. Damage Control is waiting in the conference room.” John was a little stiff, but I overlooked it since he was at work. We’d snuggle up later.
We were greeted by a Damage Control committee of six who informed us, moment by moment, how the next twenty-four hours would go. Thursday morning a police car would arrive at our house, tipping off the neighbors that something was happening. My parents would call friends and family, telling them that I had escaped unharmed and had found my way to the police, who had brought me home. I would resume my normal life and be back at school on Monday, saying, “I’d rather not talk about it,” when asked about my captivity.
John gave me a wink, and my stomach did a flip. My dad asked, “Won’t the press be all over us? When they find out that she’s been released, it’ll be all over the news. How will you protect Farrah until Jonas Furnis is shut down?”
“Homeland Security,” began the head Damage guy in a slow, deep voice, “has contacts in every major television and radio station. They can quiet any story they want for several weeks if it is in the interest of national security. The only discussion of Farrah’s return will be among local gossips until we give the press the go-ahead. And by then no one will care. We do this all the time.”
We nodded, as if we were satisfied by their plan and as if we had a choice. I looked at my watch to see that only thirty minutes had passed. How long till pizza and movies?
Just then the conference room door opened, and I noticed everyone sucked in a little air. A large man in a dark suit filled the door frame with eight people behind him. He looked more like a Wall Street type than an FBI guy and commanded such complete attention over the room that I wondered if he had bacon in his pocket. No one moved until John stood up and walked over.
John spoke with an outstretched hand. “Hello, sir, welcome. We are just finishing up with Damage Control here, and I think that the Higginses are adequately prepared for the next steps. Please come in. Mr. and Mrs. Higgins, I’d like you to meet our FBI Bureau chief, Don Woods. And this is Farrah Higgins . . .”
We all stood up and shook hands. Don looked me up and down and said without humor, “You seem to have survived well. I am glad.”
On cue, all the Damage Control people stood up and backed out of the room, saying goodbyes and freeing chairs for the next group. Don Woods and his people sat down opposite us at the table, hands folded. I took the first seat closest to the door, and John carefully led my parents to the seats next to me, separating me from him and his dad.
The man to the far left spoke first. “We have prepared our preliminary questioning about the events of the last week: the initial contact with Jonas Furnis, Steven Bonning’s duplicity, the financial records you obtained, your whereabouts in New York, your return here, the involvement of Henry Bennett, and finally the intelligence surrounding the events at Disney World. Please give short answers.”