The Fixer. John Stewart

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The Fixer - John Stewart

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us, I can get you into witness protection. Otherwise, I really can’t do much.”

      “I’ll testify that I saw the men in the pictures at our home. Won’t that work?”

      Bahar shook her head. “I’m sorry. We have nothing to charge your husband with. We can’t find a money trail. We can’t find any criminal activity anywhere. It’s not against the law to know a terrorist. Unfortunately.”

      “What if I let you guys into the house and give you permission to search. You don’t need a warrant if I ask you in, right?”

      Bahar smiled. “We could come in and look around, but we can’t crack his safe without a warrant. We can’t get a warrant without probable cause. We have nothing but suspicion where your husband is concerned. He made a donation years ago to one of these groups, and when questioned, he told us it was a onetime deal, and he didn’t know who they were. He makes a lot of donations to a lot of groups.”

      “But what about the pictures? Doesn’t that prove he’s involved?”

      “It raises our suspicion quite a bit, yes. It makes us watch him and question who he is. Still not enough to charge him with anything. It’s a slow process. I’m sorry.”

      “If I stay there, he will kill me.”

      “Then don’t stay. You are protected here in the US. Restraining orders and things. Divorce him. Did you sign prenups?”

      Ezra began to cry. “Yes. I get nothing if I leave. If I do, I can’t even go home. My father will disown me. I would be alone, and he will still kill me.”

      “Then wait. Do whatever you have to and pay attention. If you can get some kind of evidence on him, we can help you. If you could get your hands on that ledger, it would be great. But no risking your life for it.”

      “Yeah, if I disappear, I’m telling you now he killed me. If I run, I will let you know. If he catches me doing anything, I’m dead.”

      A knock came to the door. “Is everything okay in there?”

      Bahar put her finger to her lips. “Yes. Be out in a minute.”

      She got down and went under the wall. Once on the other side, she leaned against the wall between them. “Hang in there, Ezra.”

      Ezra put her hand against the wall and started crying.

      Henry got home that next week. He did not have another woman with him as he had said. He asked Ezra for the self-portrait he had seen before his trip. She went to her workroom and got it. The final painting was beautiful. Henry stood there looking at the painting and was amazed at her talent. Two days later he called her into his study.

      Ezra entered the room cautiously. This was not a room she was in very often. As she came in, she looked and saw the safe open. Her gaze went to his desk, and there laid the ledger. Her eye went up and met his as he stood behind the desk. He pointed at the wall. Ezra followed his finger to the wall, and there was her painting in a beautiful gold frame centered between the two windows.

      Henry held out a black sharpie. “Sign it in the bottom corner.”

      Ezra shook her head no. “I don’t want to. It would be…” She paused, not knowing the word in English. “Mutabajih,” she spoke in Arabic.

      Henry laughed. “Boastful! You’re damn right it is. That painting is as good as any Da Vinci out there.”

      Ezra looked down. “No, it is not.”

      He shook the pen at her. “Sign it!”

      Ezra took the pen and signed the corner. She looked at the painting for a long moment. She capped the pen and finally turned to face Henry. “Do you know what I call it?”

      Henry looked intently at the painting and then to her face. “No.”

      She smiled and set the pen on his desk. “Finality,” she said with a sad whisper.

      Henry looked back at the painting and came to Ezra, taking her into his arms. “Why do you feel this way?”

      She looked at the desk, at the ledger. She nodded her chin toward the book. “Tell me why the FBI came here questioning you? Tell me why you lock that book in the safe for no one to see but you? I fear that my life will end because I know you.”

      Henry let her go and stepped back toward the desk. He just stared at her as he slid the book toward her. “Read it.”

      Ezra folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself tightly as she shook her head no. Henry turned the book so the writing faced her, and she could read it.

      She took a step back and looked at Henry. “I don’t want to know what’s in that book. I am afraid if I do, you will kill me. That is why I painted the picture. My life has no meaning to it. I have accepted my own death as it will surely come.”

      Henry picked up the book. “Your NSA buddy Bahar will want to know this information the next time you meet.”

      Ezra’s eyes met his with desperate fear in them. She started to step away when he grabbed her arm so tightly she felt his fingertips dig into her skin. “Please, Henry, I don’t want to know anything. I don’t want to die.”

      “Too late for that. You made that choice the first time you agreed to meet in secret. Did you not think I was keeping track of what you do when I’m away?”

      Ezra desperately searched for an answer she could give that would not end with her dead. “I was afraid, Henry. I have no idea what you’re into or who you meet with. The FBI was here, and the next thing I know, I’m being asked to pick men out of pictures in a dress store. I don’t know how to handle any of this. I’m scared of them and you. I might as well be in the deserts of Egypt. I have a better chance there than here.”

      Henry smiled. “I can make that happen for you.”

      Ezra pulled her arm away. “Henry, what did you expect. You treat me like a slave. You have never loved me. You and my father made some kind of deal, and I was the offering he gave you. You bring other women to our bed, and you treat me like I don’t matter. You barely talk to me. Tell me why you support these men that want to kill? You are American, why would you want to hurt your own people?”

      Henry slapped her so hard she fell to the ground. “I am not American. You watch the way you talk to me, Ezra. You don’t know what this country has done to me. How much they take from me every day. The entire system is corrupt and needs to be destroyed. I support people who agree with me.”

      “You support terrorists, Henry.”

      “What has this NSA lady asked you to find out? You told her about this ledger? My safe? What else?”

      Ezra said nothing. Henry stepped toward her quickly, and Ezra covered her head with both arms, fearing the blow that was coming. “Nothing else. I don’t know anything to tell them, Henry. They won’t leave me alone. They want me to find out information about who you help.”

      Henry thought about this for a moment. He walked back behind his desk and slid the ledger back over in front of him. In it were names of men he had given money to. Organizations he was affiliated with and contact info.

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