Deceptions (3 page)

Sabrina and Stephanie looked at each other with the same wild, wonderful idea. Each of them reached out to a door handle and, without a word, pushed down, swung open the doors, slanmied them shut and sped down the street, ducking around comers and pushing past shoppers. Theo, lumbering after them and shouting their names, was left far behind.

'We did it, oh, we did it,* Sabrina sang. 'Now we can explore by ourselves.' The earth felt light and airy beneath her feet. 'Oh, Stephanie, isn't it wonderful?'

'Wonderful,' echoed Stephanie.

Hand in hand, they strolled through shops and crowded squares, chewing on sticky baklava they bought fi-om a street vendor, reading Greek signs aloud to practice their vocabulary and pausing at butchers' stalls, where they listened in fascination to the gruesome sound of air whistling through sheeps' lungs fiying in oil. Finally Sabrina looked at her watch and sighed. 'Well, it's been half an hour; we'd better get back before Theo gets unstuck.' But before they could turn, they heard shouts and a clatter of running feet, and

Stephanie ducked as a stone struck the building near her head.

'Terrorists!' Sabrina exclaimed. She looked around, grabbed Stephanie's hand and pulled her down a flight of stairs to a heavy door that was partly open. They slipped inside, shutting it tightly behind them. The room was dark after the bright sun and it took them a minute to see three children huddled in a comer. When Sabrina came close, the baby began to cry. *Oh, don't,' Sabrina said. She turned to the oldest, a thin boy about their age with straight eyebrows and a shock of curly hair, and said in Greek, 'Can we stay here a little while? Some men are fighting in the street.'

The boy and his sister spoke rapidly in Greek and Sabrina and Stephanie looked at each other helplessly; it was too fast for them to follow. But they recognized the boy's intent look as he stared at them; they had seen it many times. He smiled broadly, pointing at each of them. 'You are a mirror,' he said slowly in Greek, and they all laughed.

From the street above came loud crashes and men's voices shouting to each other. An acrid smell drifted into the room. Sabrina and Stephanie twined their fingers tightly together. They were all silent, listening. The smell burned in their noses, and then they heard gunshots.

The boy moved, herding his sister and the baby to a cot and covering them with a blanket. He was scowling in an effort to look brave. When Stephanie whispered, 'What should we do?' he pointed to the door.

Sabrina became angry. 'You know we can't go out there,' she said in Greek. The shouts were louder. Those are terrorists.'

The boy looked at her defiantly. 'It is a war of independence.' Sabrina looked bewildered and he shrugged at her ignorance.

She ran to the high window and climbed on a box to look out, but the boy ran after her and pushed her away. She fell to the floor. Stephanie cried out, but Sabrina scrambled to her feet. 'He's right. Somebody might have seen me. I just wanted to know what was making the smell.'

'Burning cars,' said the boy.

'Burning— 7 Why would they bum cars?'

To block the street.* He muttered, 'Stupid American girl.'

'How do you know we're Americans?' Sabrina asked. The boy threw up his hands in despair, and then they heard banging on the doors up and down the street.

'We've got to hide!' Stephanie said wildly. 'They mustn't find usi'

'Where can we go?* Sabrina asked the boy urgently. 'Please, we shouldn't be here. You could be in trouble if they find us. Is there another room?'

He hesitated, then pointed under the cot. They pushed it aside with the little girls still on it and saw a trapdoor in the floor. The boy put his fingers in a notch on one side and pulled it up. Taking a deep breath, Sabrina slid through the opening, holding out a hand for Stephanie to follow. The door slammed in place above them and they heard the cot scrape the floor as the boy pushed it back.

It was so dark they could not see each other or what was around them. The air was damp, with a cloying odor. A cellar, Sabrina thought, but the ceiling was too low; they banged their heads when they tried to stand up. There was knocking on the door of the room above and they stayed still, crouching in the damp blackness. Stephanie's fingernails dug into Sabrina's hand. With her free hand Sabrina swept back and forth in the darkness for a place to sit. She felt the hard-packed dirt of the floor and then something hke burlap. Burlap with lumps. A sack of potatoes. That was the rotting smell: they were in a vegetable cellar.

They sat together, arms around each other, heads touching. A few inches above them boots clumped back and forth, and rough voices asked rapid questions. Sabrina heard the word "guns" and the boy's "No." But then she heard drawers being pulled out and crashing to the floor.

Shudders ran through Stephanie's body as she gasped for breath. Sabrina tightened her arm around her shoulders. 'Wait,' she breathed close to her ear. They'll be gone soon. Hold on to me.' She closed her eyes; it was less scary than not being able to see anything.

'My stomach hurts,' Stephanie whispered. Sabrina nodded. So did hers. The smell of rotting vegetables stuck inside

her nose and she could taste it aeep in her throat. It made her gag. She buried her nose against her jacket and took a deep breath. That helped. Above them the men were arguing. The baby began to ay. And in the blackness Sabrina felt something crawling up her leg.

She jerked back just as Stephanie felt it, too, and gave a little scream, trying to stand up. Sabrina pulled her down. 'Don't,* she whispered. She thought the baby's crying had covered Stephanie's scream but she couldn't be sure. She brushed Stephanie's legs and her own. Spiders. One clung to her fingers and she crushed it against the dirt floor.

She was shaking all over. She'd tried so hard to be brave, but Stephanie's fear had seeped into her. Now with each footstep above them she felt herself being dragged into the open. They'd be raped. They'd be killed or held for ransom. TTiey'd be cut up in little pieces and sent back to their parents one piece at a time and Mother would ciy. They had never seen their mother ciy, and thinking about it made Sabrina start crying, as if the full terror of the afternoon only became real when she thought of her mother crying over them.

Then suddenly it was over. The boy said loudly, 'My father.' A man asked, 'Where?' and the boy answered, 'On Cyprus.' The men's voices changed; one of them laughed and said, 'A patriot.' The footsteps moved out the door and up the steps to the street. The door closed. Only the thin wailing of the baby could be heard.

Sabrina was steadily brushing her legs and Stephanie's, holding Stephanie tightly with her other arm and breathing into her jacket. In the sudden silence she had a new fear: What if the boy kept them there? He probably hated them for hiding while he faced the men alone. What if he put something heavy on the door so they couldn't get out? She sprang up, hitting her head so hard it made her dizzy, but she pushed at the ceiling, trying to find the trapdoor. 'Where are you?' Stephanie whispered fi-antically, but Sabrina was desperately moving her hands back and forth on the ceiling. Something sharp jabbed her fingers, and just as she reahzed it was a nail in the trapdoor the boy opened it. She blinked in the light, limp with relief and shame. He was asyoung and

afraid as they were; how could she have thought he would hurt them?

When the boy had pulled them up, Sabrina and Stephanie stared at each other. They were filthy, their skirts torn, their faces streaked with tears and dirt. Sabrina's fingers were scraped and bloody, and when she moved a spider fell out of her hair. Seeing it, Stephanie violently ran her hands through her own hair. The boy was replacing the drawers the men had flung to the floor. On the cot, the little girl and the baby lay still, their eyes wide and blank.

Now that it was over, Sabrina became curious again. 'What did they want?' she asked.

'Guns,' said the boy. 'They are Greek patriots fighting for independence in Cyprus.'

Sabrina remembered something about it from school. *Why are they fighting here?'

To get rid of the Turks.' The boy spat out the word.

'But are the Turks here?'

'No. In Cyprus. Fighting Greeks. My father is there. I should be with him, fighting the Turks.'

'Then who is in the street?' Sabrina demanded, stamping her foot in frustration.

'Greeks and Turks and police,' the boy said, as if it were obvious.

Stephanie was feeling better. She knew Sabrina was ashamed because they had hidden, and she began to feel ashamed too. 'Where is your mother?' she asked the boy.

'Dead. My aunt was to be here, but she is late.'

'Dead! Oh, Sabrina, we should—'

But Sabrina was looking at the boy intently. 'Would you really fight?' she asked.

'If I had a gun,' he answered, 'I would kill.'

Sabrina's eyes were dark with wonder. 'What's your name?'

'Dmitri Karras.' They stared at each other.

The room was quiet; outside, the noise had faded, leaving only the crackling flames of the burning cars.

'Sabrina,' Stephanie said. 'It's late. Shouldn't we go? And maybe - if their mother is dead - we could—'

'—^lake them with us,' Sabrina finished.

Dmitri drew himself up. 'I take care of my sisters.*

*Yes,'Sabrinasaid. 'But come for awhile. Come for dinner/ she added as graciously as her mother in the embassy reception room. 'Our chauffeur will bring you back whenever you want.'

Dmitri could not take his eyes off her: so proud and beautiful. Like a queen. He hated her and he loved her. 'Okay,' he said at last.

And so it was that firemen arriving a few moments later came upon five children walking down the street - a Greek girl carrying a baby, and a Greek boy with eyes riveted on two identical American girls, scruffy with dirt but real beauties, their faces framed in auburn curls. The firemen took them to the police, who drove them to the address they gave, which the pohce knew was the American Embassy, and there was going to be hell to pay.

One of the policemen had telephoned ahead, and a crowd was waiting on the embassy porch. Laura flew down the walk to gatherSabrina and Stephanie to her, exclaiming in dismay at their torn, dirty clothes and the blood on Sabrina's hands. Gordon followed, his face like stone. As he reached them flashbulbs exploded on all sides fi-om the cameras of thirty reporters who, like everyone else, had thought Cypriots had kidnapped the twin daughters of the American charge d'affaires.

Sabrina leaned against her mother in the wonderful warmth of her arms. Everything was all right. They were home. Then, remembering Dmitri, she looked around and caught a glimpse of him through the crowd of jostling reporters.

'Wait!' she commanded loudly. She and Stephanie pulled away fi-om Laura and went to Dmitri. 'These are ourfiiends. They saved us. I've invited them to dinner.'

'Sabrina!' Her father's voice lashed her. 'Not another word. You have done enough damage with your recklessness and impudence. How many times must I warn you—?'

Sabrina stared, open-mouthed and stunned. They were home. Why was Daddy scolding her? He hadn't even hugged them. She was hurt all over and she was so tired and she had felt so safe when they saw the embassy and then Mother had

held them ... Why was Daddy making her feel so awful? Tears filled her eyes and spilled over. She tried to stop them, but they ran down her cheeks and she tasted them on her lips.

'— a self-indulgence that shows you have no regard for my career. This time you have dragged your sister into it and these children, too, whoever they are. You are to go inside this instant; I will decide your punishment when—'

That's not Sabrina! You've mixed us up!' Through her tears Sabrina saw Stephanie hammering on Gordon's arm. Stephanie was crying, too. 'That's Stephanie, not Sabrina, you've mixed us up, you can't blame her in fi-ont of everybody, she didn't do anything and, anyway, we both had the idea, we got out of the car at the same time. Theo will tell you, and then the fighting started and we hid, and you can't blame Sabrina - Stephanie - either of us, it's not her fault!'

The reporters moved in, taking pictures. 'Sir, if the young ladies - Sabrina? or Stephanie? - would tell us what happened—'

Gordon, struck dumb, was looking from Sabrina to Stephanie and back again. Sabrina heard him mutter, 'How the hell am I supposed to—?' but Laura took over, stepping in fix>nt of him.

'No interviews, please,' she said. 'The girls are exhausted firom their ordeal, and not well.' She was not well herself, still gripped by the paralysing fears and guilt she had felt all afternoon: she had never done enough for her children, and now they might be dead. But the clamoring reporters and the danger of a scandal touching Gordon aroused her to her duty, and she pushed her anguish down, out of sight. It would wait. Later, she would recover, in private.

'Sabrina, Stephanie, take these children inside. Get some food and wait for me in your father's office. Now!' she said, and they ran up the walk with lights flashing in their faces. Behind them, a recovered, suave Gordon promised the reporters a statement the next day.

But sensational stories appeared in the morning papers without Gordon's official version, each one featuring large pictures of Sabrina and Stephanie with the Greek children.

By then the girls were locked in their separate bedrooms, but a Greek maid brought the newspapers with their breakfasts and later, when Gordon and Laura were out, unlocked their doors. Sabrina danced into Stephanie's bedroom, holding the paper. 'I've never had my picture in the newspaper before. On the front page, just like Mother and Daddy! And it says they found Dmitri's aunt! Oh, Stephanie, isn't it amazing, so many things happening at once?'

Stephanie sat by the window. She was confused; everything seemed upside down. 'Daddy fired Theo,' she said.

Sabrina stopped in midflight. 'I know.' She sat in the window seat. 'That wasn't fair. Daddy knows it wasn't his fault. I wish he hadn't fired him. But everything else is so exciting—'

'But what about the bad things?' Stephanie cried. 'Mother and Daddy are furious and the ambassador told Mother we're uncontrollable and Americans aren't supposed to get involved in street fighting—'