The Embassy

“He’s here.”

Queen Maryam sat in an open chair facing the doorway. Makenju stood immediately to her right, another ill fitting suit doing a poor job of concealing his shoulder holster. Akbar stood at ease just inside of the doorway. Alim stood to the queen’s left, and Muhammad was lurking somewhere in the large room, but Makenju had yet to figure out where. The door opened, and a man of average height in an impeccable blue suit, white shirt and understated tie entered. The queen stood and she shook his hand formally.

“Good morning, Mr. Summers.”

His teeth were even and very white, his forehead low and his dark, wavy hair showed no signs of gray. His hands looked strong. Though he was of medium build, Makenju sensed power in the man.

“Good morning, Mrs. Oludara. Thank you for granting me an audience on such short notice.”

“It’s quite alright,” Maryam sat. Summers waited until offered a seat and then did so. Makenju watched the man carefully.

“How may I help you, Mr. Summers?”

“I’ll get right to it, Ma’am. Our children are missing. My son, and your daughter. Of course, there are some concerns among my security staff. Kevin is a bright young man.”

“I am sure that he is.”

“He wanted to attend the university, and I encouraged it. Studying political science, with top marks.”

“You and your wife must be proud.”

“No, Ma’am. I am not married. It’s just Kevin and I. Initially, I was concerned about him attending school here, in his hometown. I preferred he go away. Far away.”

“Why is that, Mr. Summers?”

“Frankly, ma’am, I have made enemies in my business throughout the years. The type of enemies who would use my son for leverage. Sending him away would have removed him from their radar, so to speak. He was accepted to the university, however, and our deal was that wherever he chose to go, I would send him.”

“I see.”

Makenju allowed his mind to wander a bit as he pondered Summers’ “business”. The man owned one of the largest towing companies in the city, and reports of his back room dealings for city contracts were many. He had acquired much real estate on the city’s south side within the last few years, much of it reportedly through fraud. He reportedly got his start as a gun runner, supplying both sides of one of the city’s many gang wars. There was no mention of drugs or human tracking, but there were hints of stolen cars being sent en mass to the Caribbean. His towing firm had also been accused of towing legitimately parked cars, getting junk titles from the city and selling the cars at a tidy profit to local used car shops, but nothing was proven in court. A catastrophe had occurred at one of his night clubs, and he and his business partner were indicted for violating several fire codes, which led to nine people being trampled to death when some maniac began shooting in the place. The partner was overseas. Charges against Summers were dropped. He frequently did business out of the office of his new night club, Avenger, and kept company with several beautiful women, including the current wife of a star NBA player.

Security had informed them Summers arrived in a new Range Rover registered to his towing company. Makenju wondered if he’d towed it and given it to himself. The only person with him upon arrival was a rather large man in a velour sweat suit who stayed in the anteroom. Scans showed he was armed. Summers was not.

“I have no problem with Kevin dating your daughter. I have had dinner with them both, and I find her to be a remarkable young woman. Quite beautiful, which I can see she got from her mother. I think she is acceptable as a companion for my son, for however long their romance lasts.”

Makenju watched Maryam’s reaction. Royalty is seldom in the position where they find themselves being judged of worthiness, but Summers appeared sincere.

“I just want to know where they are, Ma’am. I know that you have travelled a long way to ascertain the safety of your daughter. If you hear from her, if you could have Kevin contact me, I would appreciate it.”

Maryam shifted slightly. “That is all?”

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry to intrude on your schedule.”

Makenju began to do a slow burn, as it became obvious that Maryam was smitten.

“Mr. Summers, have you any idea where they might be?”

Summers shook his head. “No, Ma’am. I have summer homes in Wisconsin, Florida and Mexico, and Kevin knows he always has access to those properties, provided he lets me know where and when he is going. I have had my people check at each of them. The homes have not been occupied.”

“Do you suspect foul play?”

“I do not know what to suspect, ma’am. Kevin lives in a dormitory, but also comes home to our place in Beverly quite often. His roommate says everything seemed fine the last time that he saw Kevin. We have dinner together whenever I know he is coming home.” Summers shrugged. “Nothing seemed to be a problem.”

Maryam looked over her shoulder at Makenju.

“Mr. Summers, has Thandiwe shared with you or your son her reason for being in the States?”

Summers’ face was blank before he answered.

“Ma’am, it is just my son and I. I have raised him since he was four. We are very close. I cannot replace his mother, but I have worked to be the best parent I can under the circumstances. To answer your question, yes, your daughter shared her role in your country with Kevin. He in turn shared it with me. He was fascinated, and he knew that African history is an interest of mine. At no time, though, did Thandiwe share anything with me, nor did she ever, in my presence, make light of her responsibilities or take advantage. She is quite a remarkable girl. You should be proud.”

Maryam smiled. “Thank you. I am. As should you, and your son. He appears to have a rather remarkable father. Please take no offense, Mr. Summers, but are you an educated man?”

Makenju’s face betrayed his emotions. Just get the information and send the man packing, he thought.

Summers smiled. “I am, Mrs. Oludara. I did my masters in business at Roosevelt University the year Kevin was born. When my business permits, I take additional classes here or there, primarily in world history.”

Great, Makenju thought. An educated thug. Only in Chicago.

“My master’s degree is in world history, Mr. Summers. We should chat sometime.”

“Indeed, Ma’am.” Summers took a card from his jacket pocket and handed it to Makenju. “There is my contact information. I am afraid that I have taken up too much of your time. I welcome the opportunity to discuss our common interests sometime. In the meantime, should you hear from either of our children, please let Kevin know that his father is worried and needs to hear from him.”

Maryam stood, and Summers stood with her. “It was kind of you to stop by, Mr. Summers. Until next time.” They shook hands and Summers backed out, followed by Akbar.
Makenju turned to stare out of the window.

Maryam looked at him askance. “What?”

Makenju shook his head.

“Well,” she said brightly, “the manners on that one. Mr. Alim? You and Mr. Muhammad are free to go.”

Alim bowed. Muhammad extracted himself from the curtains, grinning.

“Like cloak and dagger, that was,” he said. He smoothes the lapels of his suit.

“You are rather well dressed for a motor pool man, Muhammad,” Makenju said amiably.

Muhammad shrugged. “Not every day I am in the presence of royalty, major.”

“Where is it?”

“Under my shoulder, sir.”

“My compliments to your tailor.”

“Yes sir. One of the blokes from the Israeli embassy recommended him. I’ll leave the number with Major Akbar.” Muhammad made a face. “Your clothier has you two looking like a couple of Al Capone’s bodyguards.”

“Who?”

Maryam waved her hand at the air. “Thank you, Mr. Muhammad. Ask major Akbar to give the major and me a few moments before he returns. Better yet, have him get our vehicle. I plan to depart momentarily.”

Muhammad clicked his heels, his face bright. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Makenju laughed. “That one would have been a pleasure to serve with. There is one in every unit. Their humor makes some situations bearable.”

“Cheeky young man,” Maryam sniffed. Her face broke into a smile. “So what do you think of our Mr. Summers, Ibrahim?”

“I don’t trust him,” Makenju answered flatly.

“Oh?”

“I think he knows more than he is telling us.”
“Do you think he knows the princess’ whereabouts?”

“No,” the soldier answered carefully, shrugging to adjust his shoulder harness. “I believe he is unaware of the youngsters’ location, and I do believe his is dedicated to his son.”

“So what is it?”

“I think he has dealings that may have something to do with their absence, or he is afraid some of his affairs have influenced the matter.”

Maryam bit her lower lip. “It’s possible. Why would he share that, though? We have our secrets, as well.”

“I also think he may be part of the reason the US government has taken such an interest in us.”

“Oh.”

“Just a thought, Ma’am.”

“He was nice enough,” she volunteered.

“He’s a gangster, Majesty.”

She laughed. “Well, he’s a charming one, that’s for sure.”

Makenju grunted.

“You sound like Akbar when you do that,” she whispered.

“I am learning his dour personality may be justified,” Makenju replied.

“What about our new base of operations?”

“That Morgan chap runs a hotel outside of the city. I think it’s a safe bet for now. We’ll hold fast on moving for a day or so. I want Akbar and Muhammad to pay a little cat and mouse with the State Department first.”

“The young man who served in the motor pool?”

Makenju laughed. “That one did more than change oil in his service years, Majesty. You can bank on that. I know the type. Besides, I like the idea of another person that I can trust while we are here with you.”

“Do you really think he is a gangster, Ibrahim?”

Makenju pretended to not hear her, then answered. “Yes.”

“How sure are you?”

“As sure as I am that you are married, ma’am.”

“Well, there are diplomats and heads of state that could take lessons from that gangster.”

“Smitten, are we?” The words were out before he knew it.

She turned to face him fully. “Ibrahim? You’re jealous?”

“No ma’am. I can never be jealous where another man’s wife is concerned. Just concerned, Ma’am. Your conversation you intend to have with him? Let’s make it somewhere public. For your safety, of course.”

Maryam smiled wickedly. “Oh, we can have it wherever. You can sit at the table with us and join in. It’s just banter, Ibrahim. Part of what we do.”

Makenju shook his head. “Oh. So he is now part of the royal ‘we’?”

Maryam looked at him.

“He is, but in a different sense. It’s not what you think.”

“Matters not what I think, Ma’am. I’m just a simple soldier charged with keeping you alive and helping you extract the princess from whatever mess she is in.”

Maryam’s face fell. “Do you think she is in danger?”

“Ma’am, I do not. My training has taught me it is better to relax when I am in a situation that I control. As long as we do not know where she is, we are not in control.”

“Do you think Mr. Summers will help us?”

Makenju paused and looked out of the window.

“He said he would, Ma’am. He strikes me as a man of his word. He has a vested interest in assisting us. When you have to rely on help, it is best to get it from someone who has as much to lose as you do.”

“If I find she was on a beach somewhere driving me sick with worry…”

“Make it up to her, ma’am. Take her on a Ferris wheel ride.”

Makenju’s mobile chirped. He answered and held Maryam’s coat for her.
“Ma’am? Majesty? We’re alone.”


“And, Mrs. Oludara?”

“We had a bet,” she said softly, leaning against him. “I looked it up. ‘Unregal is not a word. You have to call me May May. When we are alone. Remember?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“May May?”

“Ma’am? May May?”

“Yes, Ibrahim?”

”I’m going to need confirmation on that. I’ll have to see a dictionary.”

“I’ll show you when we get back to the hotel.”

“Fair enough.”

They took the secure elevator to the underground garage, where an army officer held the rear door for Maryam. Muhammad, jacket open, scanned the garage and waited until the queen was in the car before he headed for the elevator. He gave Makenju a mock salute. Makenju grinned in return, closed his door, and Akbar put the car in gear.

“That guy?”

“Who, Akbar? Summers?”

“No, Makenju. The guy with him?”

“Yes?”

“Bad news.”

“How so?”

“Not just a driver. The type that gets things done. All kinds of things.”

Makenju exhaled slowly.

“Are you sure?”

Maryam listened to their conversation but did not interrupt.
Akbar nodded, his face impassive behind his aviator sunglasses.

“I am.” He cast a long side look at his colleague. “I’m quite familiar with the type.”

Makenju ignored Akbar and watched the road. Then he thought of something.

“Say, Akbar?”

“Yes Major?”

Makenju pulled his weapon from under his shoulder and unloaded, then reloaded it before putting it back. Maryam groaned.

“Is ‘unregal’ a word?”