rebellious teenager and then, at lightning speed, everything under control.
"Okay, well," Angie began, her voice sounding doubtful. "Last week there was this guy on the subway platform. It was about ten minutes after five, and I was headed home from work; he was wearing earphones and dark jeans and swaying to the music on his iPod and he looked like, you know, a regular commuter, a little trance-like, into his own isolated world, but whatever. And suddenly he stared right at me in a piercing way that made me think… well, that he was dead. I know it sounds strange, but that‟s how it felt. And that he wanted me to do something, tell someone…"
"Go ahead," Jack encouraged.
"I looked around, and the platform was crowded and I had no idea who to approach, or what to say if I did, and then my train came, and I looked behind me, and I couldn‟t see him anymore, you know, like he was lost in the flush of travelers, so I got on the car, and I figured, oh well, that‟s it, I must be imagining things."
Sandy had stopped taking notes, and Clarissa agreed with that decision. P lease, she wanted to shout. Le t‟s get serious here.
"Yes?" Jack said encouragingly.
"Two mornings later, I took one of those free newspapers they hand out at the subway entrance, I think it was AM New York, and I was flipping through it, and there it was. A photo of a man who‟d stepped onto the tracks at my station shortly after 5 p.m. My man."
"Wow," Sandy said, though she didn‟t sound particularly impressed.
"She‟s pretty amazing," Ruby said.
"Have you had any feelings about Ruby‟s dad?" Jack asked.
"No, no." Angie looked embarrassed. "God, no."
"Now can I ask you a few questions?" Clarissa asked. "Because while all this may serve some purpose that is not occurring to me now, it seems clear what we really need to focus on is what‟s happening on the ground in Kabul. Who are you talking to? Where do you think my husband is being held, and by whom?"
Jack nodded. "I know it‟s frustrating at this stage. And though there‟s a lot we don‟t know yet, we also aren‟t fully in the dark. There was, as you know, an explosion on the street where he was standing. Two people were killed, but we believe the attack was mainly diversionary, and the primary goal was to kidnap your husband. Kidnapping is a big business in Afghanistan. As I‟m sure you know."
"So they‟d been watching him?" Ruby asked.
Jack shrugged. "What we know is that he was pushed into a white Corolla station wagon and driven away. The Taliban has publicly claimed responsibility; a so-called spokesman contacted Al Jazeera and the AP. So he may be in Taliban hands. Then again, he may not be."
"They would claim responsibility for something they didn‟t do?" Ruby asked.
"Lots of smoke and mirrors over there," Jack said. "We‟ll know more soon. Anyway, the first 24 to 48 hours is the most dangerous."
Clarissa felt light-headed. She tried to think of herself as a rock, solid, connected to the ground.
"You want some water, Clari?" Mikey asked.
"I‟m okay. I‟m just—I wasn‟t prepared for this."
"No one‟s prepared," Jack said. "We‟ve got people all over the world, including some based in hairy places, and everyone ignores what that means until they can‟t anymore." Clarissa looked at him, trying to read into his words, but his expression was bland. "I don‟t want to sugarcoat anything," he said. "You won‟t end up appreciating that from me. But at least they‟ve already made the initial contact. That‟s good."
"Good?" someone asked, maybe Bill Snyder, in a voice threaded with sarcasm.
"It‟s the beginning of an address. They haven‟t given any demands yet. We think we know where he‟s being
"Okay, well," Angie began, her voice sounding doubtful. "Last week there was this guy on the subway platform. It was about ten minutes after five, and I was headed home from work; he was wearing earphones and dark jeans and swaying to the music on his iPod and he looked like, you know, a regular commuter, a little trance-like, into his own isolated world, but whatever. And suddenly he stared right at me in a piercing way that made me think… well, that he was dead. I know it sounds strange, but that‟s how it felt. And that he wanted me to do something, tell someone…"
"Go ahead," Jack encouraged.
"I looked around, and the platform was crowded and I had no idea who to approach, or what to say if I did, and then my train came, and I looked behind me, and I couldn‟t see him anymore, you know, like he was lost in the flush of travelers, so I got on the car, and I figured, oh well, that‟s it, I must be imagining things."
Sandy had stopped taking notes, and Clarissa agreed with that decision. P lease, she wanted to shout. Le t‟s get serious here.
"Yes?" Jack said encouragingly.
"Two mornings later, I took one of those free newspapers they hand out at the subway entrance, I think it was AM New York, and I was flipping through it, and there it was. A photo of a man who‟d stepped onto the tracks at my station shortly after 5 p.m. My man."
"Wow," Sandy said, though she didn‟t sound particularly impressed.
"She‟s pretty amazing," Ruby said.
"Have you had any feelings about Ruby‟s dad?" Jack asked.
"No, no." Angie looked embarrassed. "God, no."
"Now can I ask you a few questions?" Clarissa asked. "Because while all this may serve some purpose that is not occurring to me now, it seems clear what we really need to focus on is what‟s happening on the ground in Kabul. Who are you talking to? Where do you think my husband is being held, and by whom?"
Jack nodded. "I know it‟s frustrating at this stage. And though there‟s a lot we don‟t know yet, we also aren‟t fully in the dark. There was, as you know, an explosion on the street where he was standing. Two people were killed, but we believe the attack was mainly diversionary, and the primary goal was to kidnap your husband. Kidnapping is a big business in Afghanistan. As I‟m sure you know."
"So they‟d been watching him?" Ruby asked.
Jack shrugged. "What we know is that he was pushed into a white Corolla station wagon and driven away. The Taliban has publicly claimed responsibility; a so-called spokesman contacted Al Jazeera and the AP. So he may be in Taliban hands. Then again, he may not be."
"They would claim responsibility for something they didn‟t do?" Ruby asked.
"Lots of smoke and mirrors over there," Jack said. "We‟ll know more soon. Anyway, the first 24 to 48 hours is the most dangerous."
Clarissa felt light-headed. She tried to think of herself as a rock, solid, connected to the ground.
"You want some water, Clari?" Mikey asked.
"I‟m okay. I‟m just—I wasn‟t prepared for this."
"No one‟s prepared," Jack said. "We‟ve got people all over the world, including some based in hairy places, and everyone ignores what that means until they can‟t anymore." Clarissa looked at him, trying to read into his words, but his expression was bland. "I don‟t want to sugarcoat anything," he said. "You won‟t end up appreciating that from me. But at least they‟ve already made the initial contact. That‟s good."
"Good?" someone asked, maybe Bill Snyder, in a voice threaded with sarcasm.
"It‟s the beginning of an address. They haven‟t given any demands yet. We think we know where he‟s being
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