Behind Enemy Lines, A - D

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Behind Enemy Lines
Author: adorablecullens
November 13, 2008
It had been two months, three days and 15 hours since I had heard from him.
I was sitting in the National Central Bureau of Interpol in Washington, DC. It had taken a
couple of hefty favors to get Interpol to entertain my request. The agent who had caught
my crazy case came back into the office, a guarded look on his face.
“OK, Ms Swan, here’s what I was able to determine.” He flipped open a dossier and
pulled out a handful of papers. “Edward Cullen, 28, male. Naturalized US citizen. Birth
country: Arivistan. Parents: Carlisle Cullen, US diplomat and Esme Nariovski Cullen,
former principal dancer of the Arivistanian National Ballet.” He looked up over the
folder. “How am I doing so far?”
“You’re batting a thousand,” I said evenly.
“I hear it took the US government two years to mend diplomatic relations with Arivistan
after Carlisle spirited their darling principal ballerina out from under their noses and
brought her to the United States,” he said with a faint smile “and with their illegitimate
son, to boot.” Under different circumstances, I might have returned his smile.
These were not different circumstances. I didn’t smile. He went back to the dossier.
“Edward Nariovski Cullen, born January 12, 1981 in Verisna, capital city of Arivistan.
Emigrated to the United States with his parents in 1994 at the age of 13. Naturalized,
became a US citizen shortly thereafter. Brilliant student, gifted musician, offered his pick
of universities complete with entrance scholarships ... oh my, he’s a smart one isn’t he?”
The agent flipped to a new sheet of paper.
“Ah, here we are. He postponed his formal post-secondary education to travel in Global
Youth Leadership. GYL, considered the world’s most challenging global education and
international experience program, accepts 50 students annually to travel across all seven
continents in a year of academic learning, intercultural exchange and global service.” The
agent suddenly looked up at me sharply. “I see he completed GYL in 2000. I believe that
was the same year you completed the program, Ms Swan - with some of the highest
commendations any student of that exclusive program has ever received.”
I said nothing, only looked back at him over my glasses with a penetrating stare. It took
every ounce of control I had not to look away. I wasn’t the subject of the dossier. And it
was none of his damn business that Edward and I had done GYL together. He looked at
me a while longer, then gave up.
“Accepted to Harvard in 2000, fast-tracked Harvard Medical School, graduated in 2005,
did his residency at Massachusetts General. Received his MD in 2006, joined Medecins
San Frontiers – that’s Doctors Without Borders to us Americans - shortly thereafter.
“He completed a year-long aid assignment in Uganda in April 2008. Returned to New
York City, presumably to visit family. Second MSF assignment to Chad declined, mid-
2008, reason unknown. Left the US in July 2008, traveling to Latvia on personal matters.
Passport shows him entering Latvia’s capital city of Riga on July 20, 2008. No re-entry
into any other country as of today’s date.”
So far, the agent had only confirmed what I already knew, give or take a few dates. I
hadn’t expected anything else. But I had hoped.
The agent tapped his pen on the papers in front of him before looking up.
“Technically, Mr. Cullen is in violation of the Schengen Agreement since he has been in
Latvia for more than 90 days without obtaining an appropriate visa.”
“The Schengen Agreement, Agent ...” I peered over my glasses to read his nameplate ...
“Agent Dawson, is the least of my worries at this time. My principal concern is Mr.
Cullen’s whereabouts. Because he’s not in Riga, I can assure you of that.” The agent
looked at me with one eyebrow raised.
“Mr. Cullen entered Latvia on July 20 of this year, and hasn’t surfaced since.” I started
ticking off the facts one by one on my fingers. “Latvia borders the southern fringe of
Arivistan – a border that is sealed, but not impenetrable. The Republic of Kartesia had
begun its invasion of Arivistan on June 29, approximately three weeks prior to Mr.
Cullen’s sudden and unexplained arrival in Latvia.” The agent interrupted me, a bit
shocked at where I was going with this.
“See here now ... there are no US citizens in Arivistan. They were all evacuated in an
orderly fashion immediately following the Kartesian invasion. The US government knew
exactly how many Americans were in Arivistan and took extraordinary measures to
remove them from harm’s way. The border between Latvia and Arivistan has been sealed
since the invasion began.”
“I know that, Agent Dawson. I’m not suggesting that the US government is at fault here.”
I drew a deep breath and connected the last set of dots. “Arivistan is a remarkable
country. Vibrant culture and an intensely proud, patriotic people. If you were a highly
idealistic and principled individual who spent the first 13 years of your life there, loved it
and considered it your home, might you be compelled to defend it if it were invaded by
your much larger and highly aggressive neighbor?” I paused. “Even if it meant crossing a
border illegally and deliberately entering a war zone?”
Dawson’s face slammed shut, all expression wiped from his features. “Any US citizen
entering occupied Arivistan would be putting his or her life at extreme risk, Ms Swan. It
would be the same as signing your own death warrant. Doubly so for a person who is
both an ethnic Arivistanian
and
a US citizen.” He lowered his voice slightly.
“Humanitarian groups are only now gaining limited access to the refugee camps where
the ethnic Arivistanians are being held. They are all Kartesian controlled. And little better
than death camps, from what we’ve heard. You probably know more about this than I do,
given where you work.
“Ms Swan, if Edward Cullen is in occupied Arivistan, then Interpol cannot help him and
neither can you. All you can do is hope that he will be identified as a US citizen and
returned to US soil by one of the aid agencies on the ground before the Kartesians figure
out who he is. And pray.”
I looked back up, and the agent flinched at the expression on my face. Or lack thereof.
“Thank you, Agent Dawson,” I said tonelessly. “I deeply appreciate you taking the time
to research this matter for me and giving me the opportunity to meet with you today.” He
stood up hastily, startled that I was leaving so abruptly. He handed me a copy of the
dossier he had recited to me. I stuffed it in my bag – there might be details in there that I
didn’t have, details that could suggest another possible course of action.
“Ms Swan,” he said as I put my hand on the door knob. I turned and looked back at him.
“I’m sorry...” His sentence trailed off, like he wanted to say something more but stopped
himself. Like he was going to say
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
I could see it in his eyes. He, like everyone else who put the pieces of the puzzle together,
thought Edward was dead somewhere in Arivistan.
I did not.
I nodded to him and left the office.
~~ - ~~
I got into the taxi and tossed my bag on the seat beside me. Pulled off the heavy
tortoiseshell frame glasses I wore to these types of interviews – the lenses were plain
glass, just a prop to make me look more sophisticated – and put them back in the case.
“Union Station, please,” I said to the driver. We’d get there in plenty of time for the 3
p.m. train back to New York City, where I lived. The express train took less than three
hours to get from DC to Penn Station, and it gave me flexibility and freedom to work
along the way. I couldn’t understand why anyone flew the eastern seaboard.
I spent the first hour of the trip reviewing the thin sheaf of papers Agent Dawson had
given me. Not too much new in here ... I had known Edward for nearly 10 years now and
been very close to him for most of that time. It was hard to come up with personal
information I didn’t already possess. Interpol had, however, included a few surprises.
The first was a photocopy of his passport. That should never have come to me, a civilian
with no official standing in the government, not even a blood relative. I wasn’t sure if it
was included in error, or if Jasper had more influence over Agent Dawson and his higher-
ups than he’d let on.
Even in a black and white photocopy, his face was shockingly beautiful. Seeing it here,
so unexpectedly, was like a punch in the gut. I had to look out the window at the
landscape flying by to collect myself.
When I looked back, I was in control again. I examined his face carefully, like it was any
other document, but there was nothing here I didn’t already know. The image of
Edward’s face was etched permanently in my mind, on my heart. He was a perfect blend
of his parents, and of the two cultures that shared him.
He wasn’t smiling in the picture, which made him look more foreign than usual. His
mother’s blood dominated in his heavy eyebrows, his full, generous mouth, and stern
expression. He looked much more American when he smiled – that was when Carlisle’s
boyish features suddenly popped out. And of course, there weren’t many Arivistanians
running around out there with green eyes and reddish hair – most of them had dark eyes
and hair.
I turned the page reluctantly and reviewed the rest of the papers. They included a detailed
Interpol work-up on Edward, right down to his shoe size (eleven-and-a-half, they were
correct). My eye skimmed down the page but stopped at the sight of my own name. I
always showed up in any decent profile of Edward Cullen. But it was the context here
that startled me.
Not surprisingly, I was listed under “Closest Known Associates/Friends” – which made
me feel like a criminal conspirator. My name was printed in small type there: Isabelle
Marie Swan, and the nature of our affiliation (“Nationality: American. Participant in
subject’s GYL year, close friend since 1999.”). Emmett McCarty was there as well with
the same notation. But no one else. That made me sad.
Directly below this notation was “Sexual/Romantic Relations”. Naturally, Tanya Denali’s
name was there. The comment beside her name was grimly satisfying (“Nationality:
Swiss. Participant in subject’s GYL year, dated subject from Dec 1999 to April 2000, no
further contact beyond July 2000”). Bitch.
There were a handful of other women’s names listed there. I knew them all, superficial
relationships Edward had had over the years. He had told me about them – we had no
secrets. It was the last entry in this same category that was the shocking one.
Isabella Marie Swan: “Nationality: American. Participant in subject’s GYL year.
International development professional, fluent in Arivistanian, well studied in
Arivistanian culture. Likely ongoing romantic relations since 1999.”
“Is that what we’ve been having?” I muttered to the dossier. “Ongoing romantic
relations? Someone should tell Edward that.” And then I remembered that Edward was
missing, and I couldn’t share the joke with him.
I could feel terror poking up into my stomach, and I shoved it back down. Terror had
been my faithful companion since Edward had told me his plans to go to Arivistan this
past summer. Terror had been joined by its new buddy – panic - in September. Panic had
arrived on the scene when Edward had vanished after a Kartesian incursion into the area
where he had been working. Two months, three days and ... I checked my watch ... going
on 19 hours ago.
I closed the folder and put it back into my bag.
I should check my email and the feeds, see
if there were any new developments in Arivistan or Kartesia in the last three hours – even
if it is the middle of the night there.
Instead, I curled up into a ball and turned my face
toward the window. Daylight savings time was over; it was starting to get dark outside.
The New England landscape was swallowed up in darkness as we thundered north toward
New York City.
And I remembered ...
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Chapter: 2
The two primary countries named in this work – Arivistan and Kartesia – are entirely
fictional. Yes, I’m going to repeat this at the beginning of every chapter.
For the purposes of this chapter, I have used a hack translation of Latvian to stand in
for Arivistanian. Translation to English in brackets afterwards.
GYL, the global learning experience that Bella and Edward are on, is fictional. I have
based it on several different global education programs, as well as my own experiences
in traveling.
July 18, 1999
It was the first day, and I was terrified.
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