Chicago

Makenju started awake as the plane bumped the ground. He stretched and looked up. Akbar was shrugging into his shoulder rig and reaching for his jacket. The queen was not in sight.

“She must be in back getting herself ready for the public,” he muttered to himself. He stretched again, opened the drawer and loaded his Ruger. Habit forced him to jack a round in the chamber and safety the weapon before he stood and jammed it in his waistband.

Akbar donned a pair of oversized aviator glasses. “How do I look?”

Makenju eyed his protégé. “Like a bloody candidate for the Tonton Macoutes,” he said, stifling a yawn.

The plane cruised to a halt, and the pilots began their post flight. Minutes later, a door to the cabin at the rear of the jet opened, and Maryam appeared, clad in the khaki dress, scarf, and dark glasses. She carried the bomber jacket in the crook of her arm.

“Gentlemen?”

“Majesty.”

“Mrs. Oludara,” she gently corrected.

“Procedure, Ma’am: A member from our embassy will meet us on the tarmac. Akbar will exit first, confirm the man’s credentials, and we’ll quickly be on our way. Your luggage will travel in a separate car.”

“Where are we staying?”

“The Sheraton. Right by the lake. Security is good there. When President Clinton was in office, he and the First Lady stayed there.”

“Very good.”

“We have adjoining rooms. You in one, Akbar and I in the other. Check in has been arranged and the man from the embassy will have the keys. We will go north on Lake Shore Drive and enter through the underground garage.”

“Can’t we just go through the front door?”

Makenju eyed Akbar warily.

“Perhaps next time, Ma’am. Our job is to keep you safe, and we don’t have a full strength security contingent. Let’s take as few chances as possible.”

“Very good.”

The pilots alighted from the cockpit, side arms noticeable on their waists. Makenju and Akbar nodded at them. The co pilot undid some latches and the door swung downward. He went out first, followed by Akbar. Maryam hesitated for a moment until Akbar called into the plane, then she went down the steps, followed by Makenju.

“The pilot?” Maryam climbed into the back of a Mercedes saloon, rear door held by her other bodyguard.

“Both will stay and ensure the plane is secure and prepped for immediate takeoff.”

Makenju glanced around the tarmac one last time and hefted himself into the Mercedes. Inside, Akbar and the Queen sat in one seat. In the jump seat sat a thin black man with a large head and a florid looking white man.

“Your Majesty,” the black man began, “Welcome back to the States. My name is Alim. It is my pleasure to serve you on your visit. Allow me to introduce Mr. Rupert, US Department of State.”

“You spooks can’t get your own ride?” Akbar grumbled.

Rupert smiled, showing yellow teeth. “Good morning, Your Majesty. Major Akbar. I took the liberty of having your customs processing done. If I may have your passports?”

Akbar produced the three booklets. Rupert took them and efficiently stamped them. Alim rapped on the window separating them from the driver, and the car started east.

“Closer than O’Hare?” Makenju asked.

“Much,” Alim agreed. “More importantly, almost a straight ride to the university campus.”

“Your majesty, majors,” Rupert began, “I understand this is an unofficial, personal visit. Please understand, however, the government of the United States has a vested interest in your safety while you are here. I understand these two men,” Rupert nodded in their general direction, “will provide personal security. I must make you aware the government will have plainclothes men in close proximity for the duration of your visit.”

“It was our express intent to not arouse any attention during this trip,” Akbar growled.

“Understood, Major, and we will be discreet. We cannot, however, allow the sovereign of a foreign nation to just roam around Chicago, or any of our cities, for that matter, protected by just two men. The international repercussions, should something unfortunate occur, would be disastrous.”

Makenju nodded and looked out of the window as 55th Street whizzed by.

“So what is it you are saying, Mr. Rupert?” Maryam asked graciously.

“Just know, Ma’am that we are watching.”

Makenju did not like the sound of that, but he said nothing.

The Mercedes made a left and pulled onto the Dan Ryan expressway.

“Also, Ma’am, if you could see fit to have your embassy alert ours when you leave Chicago, we would appreciate it.”

“Fine,” Akbar groaned.

“We understand security, ma’am. But…how can I put this delicately?”

“Feel free to be candid, Mr. Rupert.”

“I know your men are armed. Rightfully so. If possible, we want to avoid any…incidents. Major Makenju’s reputation in intelligence circles is, well, one of violence.”

Akbar snorted.

“Please accept the State Department’s support,” Rupert concluded cryptically.

“Of course, Mr. Rupert,” Maryam replied gently. “And do thank your government for me. This is, however, merely a mother coming to town to check on her college aged daughter, whom she has not seen in some months. My visit is not that of a monarch but a mother. The duty that has been mine since birth dictates these other precautions. I am pleased, however, the US government has taken such an interest in my security, and I appreciate it.”

She’s lying, Makenju thought. She’s as pissed as Akbar is. We won’t be staying at the Sheraton long, that’s for sure.

“Mr. Alim,” the queen continued.

“Ma’am?”

“While I am here, I am Mrs. Oludara. I want for the embassy to provide my men with an automobile. We want to remain discreet.”

“Will you require a driver, Ma’am?”

“Thank you, no. My escorts will see to that.”

Rupert raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Please have someone meet us at the hotel with the vehicle, Mr. Alim. Thank you.”

Alim pulled a telephone from the armrest and spoke rapidly in his native tongue.

“Done, Mrs. Oludara.”

Maryam sat primly while the Mercedes merged onto Lake Shore Drive and headed north.

“That Ferris wheel is divine,” she said softly to Makenju.

“Navy Pier is one of our city’s most famous attractions,” Rupert began, “along with our museum campus, and of course, shopping on the Magnificent Mile.”

Makenju shook his head. Did this man think the Queen flew a few thousand miles nonstop to shop?

The Mercedes rolled to a stop under Wacker Drive. The State Department man got out first, followed by Akbar, Alim, and Makenju, who extended his hand to help the Queen exit the car. She took it and squeezed it gently. He noticed. It made him a bit angry.

They stepped into the parking garage and headed for the elevator, where a homeless man sat in a chair with a bundle of papers at his feet.

“Mate, if you’re going to be undercover,” Makenju grinned, “try not shaving for a day or two.”

The man stared blankly, and Rupert shook his head. Once on the elevator, he turned to Makenju.

“I told him that,” the white man grinned ruefully. “Trust me; the rest of our guys won’t be so obvious.”

“Hope not,” Akbar removed his aviators.

Rupert and Alim followed them to the doors of their adjoining suites. Akbar pulled his revolver from under his shoulder and put it at his side. Makenju did the same with his Ruger.

“I can assure you that won’t be necessary,” Rupert said nervously.

“Tell that to the Secret Service when your president visits our country,” Makenju replied calmly. Akbar went in the room, gun drawn. Minutes later, he emerged from the other door.

“Clear,” he called. The elevator opened and a dark man in a western cut suit bustled out. Makenju pushed Maryam into the open doorway, and Akbar slammed the door. By the time the man reached the door at a quick lope, Makenju’s automatic was in his face.

Alim looked shocked. Rupert groaned.

“We have to avoid this kind of thing,” he muttered.

“Can I help you,” Makenju asked pleasantly, ignoring the other two men.

Alim looked steadily at Makenju.

“This is Muhammad from the embassy,” he said slowly, “more than likely he has the keys to your automobile.”

Muhammad didn’t bat an eye. Makenju laughed to himself. What a place, this Chicago, he thought. Where gofers take having a weapon thrust in their face as just another day at the office.

“Can I reach in my pocket for the keys?” Muhammad asked with a grin.

Makenju grinned back and lowered his pistol. Muhammad’s grin got wider as he flipped some keys out of his pocket and Makenju caught them, in his free hand, mid air.

“Cadillac CTS-V. Couple of years old, but she runs good. Diplomatic plates,” Muhammad started.

“Not very discreet,” Makenju commented.

“Sorry, Major, all of the bulletproof station wagons are in service,” Muhammad never stopped grinning.

“Do I know you, son?” Makenju found himself liking the young man’s attitude.

“I did my stint in the army before going into diplomatic service,” Muhammad admitted. “Everyone knows you Major. Pleasure to meet you.” He stuck out a hand.

Makenju shoved his Ruger in his waistband and shook the younger man’s hand heartily.

“Pleasure’s all mine, soldier. But don’t,” he grinned wickedly, “ask me to tell any old war stories, deal?”

“Deal. Alim?” Muhammad turned to the thin man. “I drove the Cadillac over here. Any chance I can ride back in the limo with you?”

Alim nodded warily. Muhammad produced a card from his breast pocket.

“My mobile number is on there, major,” he said. “if you need anything, you call.” He shook Makenju’s hand again. “Oh, and by the way? That CTS has the Corvette engine in it. With those diplo plates, no one is going to stop you. I’d give it a go if I were you.”

Rupert paled. Makenju laughed. Alim started down the hall.

“What’d you do in service, Muhammad?”

Muhammad laughed and turned to follow the Alim. “Motor pool, sir.”

“So the Caddy?”

“125 like sitting in your living room, sir. ‘'Scuse me. Call me if you need me.”

Makenju waved and knocked on the door. Akbar opened it. Maryam sat at a desk in the suite, which was luxurious, but far from regal.

“All good?” Akbar grinned. Some soldiers love their work.

“Yeah. Kid from the embassy. Dropped off a nice Cadillac for us. Ma’am?” he looked at Maryam and smiled, “You OK?”

“Indeed. Thank you for saving me from one of my own people, Major.”

“I was not aware that royalty engaged in sarcasm,” Makenju mused. Akbar shook his head and opened the door to the adjoining room.

“Major?”

“Ma’am?”

“Close the door, please.”

Makenju did as he was told. Maryam stood and walked over to her. She stopped just short of her nose touching the top button of his shirt.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Makenju’s head swam.

The queen let out a soft, throaty laugh.
“How long have you been waiting to push me like that?” she asked quietly.

“Just doing my job, Ma’am.”

“Let’s remember this is a job, Ibrahim. It is something else, too.”

“I know my job, he said, “something else, where you and yours are involved, is always a bit more confusing.”

“I want to see Chicago,” she said in a small voice.

“You’re in charge, Ma’am. I’m just a hired gun. With a recently expunged military prison record, at that.”

“And?”

“You call the shots, I shoot. You want to see this city; I guess I am at your disposal.”

She smiled.

“Any chance we can lose Akbar?”

“Negative.”

“He feels like a third wheel.”

“He is here to protect his sovereign, Ma’am. From what I hear of Chicago, I’ll need all the help that I can get. ”

“May May,” she pleaded softly.

“Mrs. Oludara.”

“We have to find that silly girl…eventually.”

“It is why we are here, right? Could be wrong, but that’s why you got me out of jail?”

Maryum Oludara laid her head against the soldier’s broad chest.

“I don’t need my bodyguard. I need my friend. I need some rest from…everything. I need to find my child and make sure she is fine. Please understand, Ibrahim.”

Makenju stood still, his mind racing.

He opened his mouth, and Maryum reached up and put a finger to it.

“I don’t want to talk about your feelings. I know how you feel. You have made your feelings quite clear. That was a different time. Things have changed. You have to accept that. You cannot do anything about the past. I tried to right it as best I could. You have to move on, Ibrahim. You can continue to be angry about the time you spent or you can try to find happiness in the future.” She hugged him.

Makenju hugged her back, briefly, and said, “It is not enough. Eventually, Maryum, you have to acknowledge what happened. You have to acknowledge how I felt. May May, you have to admit the role you played in all of this. Only then will it start to get better.”

He disengaged and headed for the door to his room.

“Major?”

“Ma’am?”

“We shall leave for the university within the hour.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”