CHAPTER FORTY

Congressman Rudy Adeogo’s Tacoma Park home

Northwest Washington, D.C.

Rudy Adeogo stood in the doorway of his daughter’s upstairs bedroom and watched as Dheeh tucked Cassy into bed and tenderly kissed her forehead.

“Get some sleep, baby love,” Dheeh said.

“I’m afraid,” Cassy replied.

“We’ll leave your door open. Your father and I are in the bedroom right next door.”

“There’s no reason to be frightened now,” Adeogo added. “There are police officers stationed outside our house. No one can come inside to hurt you.”

“Did you look under the bed?”

“Yes,” Dheeh responded. “Twice!”

“What about Jennifer? Has she been rescued yet?”

“No,” Adeogo said, “but I am certain she will be.” He had intentionally kept Cassy away from watching the television news and surfing the Internet. She had no idea that Akbar had blown up a boat in Annapolis, killing two FBI agents, and that Major Brooke Grant had found Aludra’s body on the Naval Academy’s golf course.

“Allah is watching over Jennifer,” Dheeh said in a soothing voice. “Just as He watched over you, baby love.”

“But she’s only a half Muslim and he is a full Muslim,” she replied. There was no need for Cassy to explain to her mother and father why Jennifer was only half Muslim or identify who “he” was.

“No, he is not a Muslim. He is an abomination,” Adeogo said. “A corrupter of the truth.”

“I heard someone say that Uncle George was a terrorist too. They said he changed his name to Abdul Hafeez and he killed Americans in Somalia. He cut off a man’s hands.”

Dheeh shot Adeogo an anxious look. They had never told Cassy the truth about her uncle George. Her grandparents, uncles, and aunts had shielded all of the children from Hafeez’s radicalization and decision to join Al-Shabaab.

“You’re old enough to hear the truth now,” Adeogo said. “My youngest brother—your uncle—joined Al-Shabaab in Somalia. He became a terrorist.”

“Then he was no different from the man who kidnapped me and Jennifer, and beat us.”

“Your uncle would not have harmed you,” Dheeh answered. “These are adult matters. Go to sleep, baby love.”

“If they’re adult matters, that evil man should have left Jennifer and me alone.”

Dheeh stepped away from her daughter’s bed and joined her husband in the room’s doorway, where she switched off the light.

“I don’t want it dark,” Cassy cried out.

“We’ll leave the door open,” Dheeh replied. “The hallway light is on.”

“I want to sleep in your room. In your bed. Please don’t leave me alone here.”

Dheeh looked at her husband, who nodded approvingly.

“Okay, baby love, but just tonight,” Dheeh replied.

Cassy threw back her covers and scrambled from her bed. Dheeh put her arm around Cassy’s shoulders and kissed her forehead.

“Hurry down to our room. I need to speak to your father and then we can read for a while,” she said. One of the ways that the two of them bonded was by reading the same young adult fiction. Cassy would read one book and then give it to her mother.

After Cassy had left them in the hallway, Dheeh said, “I’m glad you told the truth about your brother to the world and our daughter. You were brave to go on television, but it was a secret we could no longer keep.”

“You never wanted to come to Washington. I’m certain you are happy now that my career has been destroyed.”

“How can you say that? I have always done what a good wife does. I simply warned you when you decided to run for Congress that you could not hide the truth about your brother.”

“All I ever wanted was to help our people, to do good.”

“You cannot do good based on a lie. And now that our daughter is safe, you cannot do good if you retreat into self-pity and shame. You must be an example for her and the world. You must show them that not all Muslims are like your brother. Now more than before, you must speak out. Is that something a wife who wants you to fail would say?”

He touched her shoulders and pulled her close to hug her, but she did not put her arms around him. Adeogo sensed there was something more bothering her than Dheeh’s uncomfortableness with physical affection.

“What is it?” he asked.

“That woman who came to the house while Cassy was still missing. Mary Margaret Delaney.”

“What about her?”

“You told me after she left that night that she had threatened you. You said she had learned about George and you told me that she was trying to blackmail you. She wanted to control you for her clients. That is why you decided to tell the truth—because you were not going to be her puppet—is that correct?”

“Yes, I would not let her turn me into her pawn.”

“But you have only told me about this—how she wanted to blackmail you. You have not reported her to the authorities. You did not tell the FBI agents who were here with us that night. It must be against the law to threaten and blackmail a congressman. Why are you keeping silent about this horrible woman?”

“It doesn’t matter now, does it? What would be the point now?”

“To punish her,” Dheeh responded.

Adeogo shrugged.

“There is only one possible explanation for your actions,” Dheeh continued. “This woman knows something else about you, doesn’t she? There is more that she can tell.”

Adeogo released his arms from around her back and stepped back from her, but he did not answer her question.

“I remember you first telling me about this Delaney woman after you first visited Washington, D.C. You told me she was sent by Timothy Coldridge to be your handler. She was helping him—helping run his presidential campaign. She became angry with you after you refused to speak at a press conference. You told me that she was angry, bitter, and wanted revenge against you.”

Dheeh looked directly into his eyes and said, “This woman’s hate for you is more than politics. Did you sleep with her?”

Although Adeogo had often thought about how he would react if Dheeh had confronted him, he found himself floundering for words, and during those few seconds of hesitation, Dheeh knew the answer.

She turned away from him and walked into their bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

Adeogo retreated downstairs to his office. He tried to work but couldn’t concentrate. Dheeh was right. He had not reported Delaney’s blackmail attempt because he was afraid she would reveal his infidelity. He closed his eyes and rested his head on his folded arms on the desktop. His political world and now his personal world were collapsing. Dheeh would never forgive him.

A loud knock on the front door woke him. He checked the time. It was a few minutes after four a.m. He had fallen asleep at his desk.

Peering through the front door’s security peephole, he saw his congressional public information officer, Fatima Olol, standing next to the policeman stationed on the porch. The D.C. police had promised to remain outside his house until Akbar either was captured or killed. He swung open the door and welcomed her inside.

“Is Cassy okay?” Olol asked.

“Yes, she’s upstairs with Dheeh sleeping in our bedroom.”

“There’s something we need to discuss,” Olol said in a nervous voice.

Adeogo led her into his study for privacy. “What’s so important that you’ve come at this hour?”

“Ebio Kattan from Al Arabic television called me a few minutes ago. She asked me about your relationship with Mary Margaret Delaney.”

“What did she ask you?”

“She said reporters had seen Delaney visit your house before Cassy was rescued. She asked me if her visit had anything to do with your decision to tell reporters about your brother.”

Olol paused, but Adeogo was not inclined to answer either of her questions.

“And then Kattan said something that is really, really upsetting.”

Adeogo let out a sigh. Here it comes, he thought, bracing himself. He assumed Delaney had told the Al Arabic reporter about their sexual affair. His indiscretion. Was there no end to her hatred for him? No end to what she would do to destroy him?

“Ebio Kattan told me,” Olol continued, “that Mary Margaret Delaney had just been found dead.”