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37
Provence, France
It’s total pandemonium when I land in Provence, the airport that services my mother’s vacation home of Marseille. I’m tired, pissed off, and hungry.
But then I turn on my phone and see Milly’s text asking about my mother. I start to text her back when a CNN news alert pops up on my screen. “Omar Hassan of Enron infamy in FBI custody. Being escorted back to the United States.”
My phone clatters to the floor. I even look down, but don’t pick it up until someone taps me on the shoulder to tell me I’ve dropped my phone.
I scoop it up and walk back to the ticket counter. My first thought is that I have to get to Milly. I know she is supposed to be traveling to London today, but I doubt she will be anywhere but the United States.
It’s almost noon here, and I hope that if I leave now I can be back by late afternoon their time.
My hopes are dashed when I’m told the last flight to DC has already left for the day. My mind dashes to London, maybe Milly is still there and I can go there instead. She will need me, and I need to show her what I found.
I dial her number and she picks up almost immediately
“Dean, oh my God. Where are you? I’ve been calling you since we landed. Have you seen the news?” She is speaking in a rapid and hushed tone.
My heart races. How the hell am I going to explain being in France without telling her everything over the phone.
&
nbsp; Shit.
“Milly, I’m sorry. I was on a plane. My phone was off. I just landed and saw your text.”
“Dean, can you—” She starts to cut me off but I keep talking.
“Milly, please listen. I’m in France. I can’t get a flight home until tomorrow morning.”
“What?” Her hushed tone disappears and I hear rustling. It sounds like she's moving.
“It’s a long story. And I’ll tell you when I get home. But I’m here to see my mother, and then I’ll be back.”
“I thought you were in Sedona to see your mother.” She sounds exasperated and tired. And I feel guilty for adding to whatever stress she must be under right now.
“She wasn’t there, and I really needed to talk to her. Have you seen your dad yet?” I ask quickly.
“No, we haven’t. We are at Langley now, waiting to see him.”
“Langley? That’s the CIA building, isn’t it?” I ask truly surprised.
“Well, that’s where they took him. We are all here waiting to see what’s going on. But the only thing we do know, because we’ve spoken to his lawyer, is that he's not under arrest.” The exasperation is gone from her voice and all that is left is the exhaustion.
I'm just as tired, but I know that what she's saying makes no sense. How can he not be under arrest? The FBI has been looking for him for more than a decade. But clearly Milly doesn’t know more than what she has just told me, so my next question is more rhetorical than interrogatory.
“So clearly there is something more going on than what we’ve always thought.”
“Yes, so much more. My mother, she knows things . . .” She trails off and I hear the struggle she's having to keep her voice steady.
“Who is there with you?” I ask, deciding that asking any more question at this point would be counterproductive.
“My mother and my sisters,” she responds.
“Where is Ant Man?” I ask her right away, worried about how my little guy is faring in all this craziness.
“He’s with Rabea. We dropped him off when we got here. He was so exhausted. We didn’t talk about much in front of him because he hears everything. I didn’t want to scare him.”
