Thursday, August 15, 2024—5:55 PM
Landon answered the Embassy’s secure phone, “Scorp, Major Landon.”
“Major, this is Sabriya with Hannah on speaker. I’m calling to speak with my distressed spouse. But I have a question for you first.”
“Yes, he’s upset. What’s your question?”
“I assume that David is intimately aware of my activities and whereabouts through you and our SEC links. But this demand that I cease and return feels like it’s coming from outside the Embassy. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right. Let me find the message.”
A good minute elapsed while Landon dug through the system, which only increased Sabriya’s anxiety. She had not wanted to take the time to bring Anya to the safe house, for fear of the children’s trail going cold, and now this, which could completely derail her and guarantee her daughter’s grotesque demise.
“Here it is,” said Landon. “It was an email from the Pellagore Police, Northern District, marked URGENT about two hours ago. I’ll read it to you.
‘August 15, 2024—1500 Hours
‘British Embassy, Meijing, Pellagore
‘Sir David Kensington, HMS Ambassador
‘Dear Mr. Ambassador.
‘It has come to our attention that an agent of your employ is unilaterally involved in unauthorized activity in Pellagore’s Northern District without the knowledge or approval of this agency. This activity has resulted in the death and injury of several Pellagore citizens. It is most alarming to us that the British Government would disregard Pellagore’s sovereignty in such a disrespectful and offensive manner. We demand that you cease this activity and present said person to our custody for immediate prosecution. Failure to do so before 1800 hours this day will result in the immediate loss of diplomatic immunity under the 1961 and 1963 Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations, or be prepared for a visit by our Armed Forces to enforce this demand.’
“It’s signed, Inspector General, Lieutenant Qiang, Northern District, Pellagore Police,” concluded Landon.
Sabriya’s first reaction was visceral. Yes, she was operating unilaterally, but also indirectly under the Queen’s auspices. She was chagrined that when visiting with the Queen yesterday afternoon, she had not informed the Queen and received some sort of official consent from the Palace to hunt down the traffickers and rescue her daughter. In retrospect, she thought she was acting as a citizen and the favorite daughter of Pellagore, not as an official of the British Government. But now Sabriya understood how she had stepped over a diplomatic boundary that was, at best, a mistake or worse, illegal, which explained David’s anger. Yet, something Landon had just said raised several red flags.
“Landon, did you say this was an email?”
“Ah, yes.”
“From where, again?”
“Pellagore Police, Northern District.”
“Why would the Pellagore government, or some agency of it, communicate officially with the British Embassy by email, about something that affects their sovereignty or our responsibilities to respect that sovereignty? Every morning and throughout the day, David reviews official encrypted cables from various government entities regarding official business. I doubt he has ever received an email, especially if it is unsecured.”
Sabriya paused for Landon’s response, which didn’t come for a long time, as if the line had gone dead. Then …
“You are astute, Mrs. Kensington, and I, of all people, am surprised that I didn’t ask that same question.”
“Landon, remember. I was viciously attacked by the so-called police in Pohan in a frightfully capricious manner. No talk, just sudden machine gun fire. Anya remarked that Dr. Shin was paying off the police. I’ve been thinking that our trafficking enemy has bought off the local police.”
“Let me check something, stand by.”
Landon was silent for only a few seconds. “Sabriya, you are absolutely right. I just opened the email’s header. It did not originate from any division of Pellagore’s police. While the visible email address appears to be from a Pellagore government agency, it’s a spoof. Looks like it was forwarded from a foreign country. I am embarrassed, Ma’am. You may have my job yet. Let me bring David up to date and on the line.”
A few moments later, David’s voice clicked onto the line. “Sabriya, Landon has explained to me that this startling email we received a bit ago is not real. But I am still properly unhappy with the reports that he has been giving me about your, ah, shall we say, bloody adventures. Sorry, but that’s what they’ve been. Even disregarding this email, I am facing a major international embarrassment in fulfilling my duty to amicably mitigate, harmonize bilateral agreements, and de-escalate conflicts between any group within Pellagore and the British government. That the parties offended are illegal traffickers doesn’t really matter, insofar as they can dramatically upset the citizenry and create a quite difficult situation between our two governments.
“David, you’re saying the life of my daughter is of secondary importance to diplomacy?”
“When someone of a sovereign governmental agency is displaced by a guerrilla … who happens to be married to the ambassador of a foreign country …”
“I’m also a Pellagorian citizen.”
“You’re not above the local law, Sabriya.”
“I’m trying to prevent the kidnapping, rape, and murder of an innocent girl, who happens to be my daughter.”
“And you may be starting a bl---- ... a war.”
“Now I’m starting a war?”
“Wars have been started for less. You don’t realize this must be included in my daily activity report to the Diplomatic Service, and they will bluntly ask why I’ve sent, or allowed, my Pellagorian-born wife to pursue a military-style mission reserved for Special Forces. Do you realize that will likely get me called back?”
“So, you go back to England, and what? I stay here? Am I now your disposable, protocol minister? Darling … if I can be so bold to address you so affectionately … it’s fake. It is NOT an official communique from Pellagore. It is from traffickers spoofing you, because I’m on their tail and fulfilling the Queen’s wishes, when her husband, the King, is entangled by the discovery of bureaucracy. I doubt you have any responsibility to pretend it’s real. What is real is that I’m closing in on the kidnappers, and they’re panicking.”
“Mister Kensington, this is Hannah. Would it be wise at this juncture to communicate with the Palace, via cable, and tell them what Sabriya is doing, in diplomatic, tactful language, without the blow-by-blow detail, endeavoring to gain their sympathetic approval, and if nothing else, to avoid them being blindsided by Sabriya’s efforts?”
“Yes,” said Sabriya. “The Queen and King may have realized THAT was my intent in visiting Her Majesty before I encountered this opposition.”
On this, David was quiet. He’s boxed into a corner, thought Sabriya.
“Hannah pushed her luck. “Jack and I can work on some language and deliver it to the Palace this afternoon, with your approval, of course. It can distance the British Embassy from their Pellagorian favorite daughter, who, as a private citizen, is boldly chasing down the Queen’s enemy.”
David was quiet again, though Sabriya was beginning to recognize his grunts and groans.
“In other words, we’re asking forgiveness rather than asking permission,” smirked Hannah.
Finally, David spoke, “Landon, get Jack to my office immediately. Sabriya, this is an order: You are not to kill, maim, disfigure, insult, or harm anyone else until you find your daughter.”
“Can I kill them then?”
David groaned. “Landon, get Jack up here.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Ambassador.”
Sabriya winked at Hannah and ran out the door. But it wasn’t a happy wink, or a gleeful departure. All she thought about was the brown panel truck bouncing along the rutted road to Red Coast Harbor, and what was inside.
The ride was jarring on the thin, worn mattresses; the light was dim as it poured through the opening to the cab, and the sound of men grumbling was foggy and incomprehensible. Jia Kun lay on her side, still in her school clothes, unable to move her legs or arms, and too disoriented to raise her head. Next to her on similar mattresses were several other children about her age, two boys and three girls. Up front, behind the partitions, two men sat in seats, mumbling and squabbling as the van bounced down a road.
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