She paid with Steel’s cash and signed in as Mrs. Johnson. She asked for change to launder their clothing, and a first aid kit—which the clerk gave her for a hundred-dollar deposit.
The clean room seemed like an oasis compared to the rain, mud, and cold. They were all trembling, but Steel looked the worst off. Christie objected, but Steel insisted the friar take a shower first, then her, before he hobbled into the bathroom for his turn. She told him to toss his clothing out, which he did with the door cracked open.
While Steel showered, Francis rested. Christie bandaged her left foot, which had minor cuts. She wrapped her sprained ankle with some gauze which helped ease the pain.
Grabbing aspirin from the first aid kit, she gathered all their clothing, and limped to the laundry room with a towel wrapped around her. Cupping her hand beneath a washtub faucet, she downed the aspirin with some water. She remained there until their clothing was dry.
When she returned, Francis was lying on the spare mattress, covered with a sheet and blanket, which left the queen to her and Steel. She dropped the friar’s robe beside him.
Francis smiled up at her. “Gracias.”
Smiling briefly, she dumped the rest of the clothing on the foot of the bed. Keeping the bath towel around her, she got under the covers and sat in silence, her back against the wall at the top of the bed. The aspirin had kicked in, easing the ankle pain.
Steel came out of the bath wrapped in a towel too. His upper body surprised her. White, faded scars marked his torso and arms, and a large claw scar streaked across his upper back. It was another example of how little she knew about him.
“Here.” She swung her legs out of the bed and opened the first aid kit.
He glanced at her, and then limped over, pulling back enough of the towel to expose the wounds. Her cloth bandage still covered the bullet wound.
She untied it, dried the area with the towel, and put bacitracin over the leg wound, followed by nonstick gauze pads. She wrapped self-adherent gauze around his leg to keep the pads in place. Glad to help, she didn’t meet his eyes.
Finished, she handed him several aspirin. “I’ll get you some water.”
“Thanks,” he said softly.
She returned in a minute with a cup of water, which he downed with the pills.
He limped to the opposite side of the bed, sat down, and gingerly swung his legs up. Leaning against the wall, he pulled the blanket up to his stomach. He took a deep breath, clasped his hands on his lap, and began talking. He explained the Komodo Op in detail to them. His pursuit of MultiSec, the Paragon file, the shooting of his dog, the murders of Grove and the Bellues, the attempted kidnapping of his wife, Rusack, Quenton, and the Serpent Op.
Christie hugged her knees as her perceptions changed. Steel had the guts to take on the military on a covert Op, and Danker had twisted the facts about him to fit his own agenda. She believed Steel was telling the truth. She also understood how Danker had sounded so credible.
It was true, Steel had betrayed the Op. His values mattered more to him than his orders. That realization struck a raw nerve in her, because sometimes she had ignored her own values in favor of following orders.
Francis confirmed Steel’s story with several nods, and said quietly, “I sensed it was you today at the hotel. There is some affinity between us, I think.” He gave a gentle smile.
Steel nodded. “I felt it too, when you took your walks in the jungle. I kept thinking there was something familiar about you. I’ve followed articles about you for a number of years.”
“Perhaps you also sense in me the same thing that God’s creatures are drawn to,” said Francis, his eyes shining. “Perhaps it is the same bond that connects all of us, which we could all sense if we were open to it.”
Steel looked at Francis. “It’s still dangerous for you to participate in the talk tomorrow.”
Francis nodded. “I grew up in a poor area where a company dumped chemicals into our water and land, and many died of cancer. I have lived with danger all my life, as many poor people do. Tomorrow I have something very important to say, which must be said while the world is watching. I’m afraid at the Honolulu conference my voice will be buried. But tomorrow the press will focus on my message. And I will have you to protect me. Sometimes you must take chances in life.” He glanced from Steel to Christie.
Christie blurted, “Danker ordered me to watch you. He said you were a traitor.”
Steel didn’t respond.
She kept talking. “CIA Director Hulm ordered me to give you access to any information you wanted. He also said not to trust you, that you were on the wrong side of things. I believed them.” She saw no empathy in his eyes and added, “Hulm kept the CID away from you after you were attacked the first time. They wanted you to feel free to act.”
Steel looked at her. “They wanted me to find Tom Bellue’s hidden Paragon file. I’m guessing they also hoped I would give them a way to bring down MultiSec’s CEO, Torr. Torr must have something over Hulm and the president. And I’m guessing Torr had Danker or Sorenson send these men to kill us.”
She barely met his eyes. “The first Paktika Op you assessed had already been run and was a mess. The second one we ran with your suggestions and it was a success.” He didn’t respond and she kept talking. “I care about my country and doing what’s right as much as you do. I trusted Danker and the CIA director—what would you have done?”
“You could have been honest with me about Danker and Hulm. I wouldn’t have gone on the Serpent Op if you had.”
She wanted to say more but didn’t know if he cared to hear it. She wouldn’t go back to Danker or Hulm with any of his story. Maybe Steel already knew that. That decision would compromise her orders, but she didn’t care. The promotion wasn’t important now. For the first time in years her career didn’t matter as much as other things.
The shadows in the room hid Steel’s eyes from her. She slid beneath the sheets and turned to face the wall. She didn’t know how to bridge the distance between them, and she doubted he wanted her to try.
CHAPTER 82
Steel stayed awake until the others were fast asleep. Weary, his leg still throbbing, he considered what had happened. They were reasonably secure from any law enforcement investigation, but he had deeper concerns about those who had hired the killers.
It was probably safe to return to Maui the next day, but it wasn’t a given. There was no way to be certain that the three men were the only ones targeting them, nor what might happen when it was learned they were dead.
His gun had been purchased off the grid but could be tied to the man he shot. He wasn’t worried about the police charging him with murder. He just didn’t want them holding him for questioning while Francis was vulnerable. After some deliberation he let it go, satisfied he could do nothing except shadow Francis tomorrow.
His eyes drifted to Christie’s darkened form. She slept on her side, her back to him. The absence of light hid the colors of her hair and skin.
He wondered if he had known from the beginning that she wanted more than Paktika Op assessments. If he ignored the signals. Ignored them because at the time he swam in so much pain and wanted support from anyone. Like a lone survivor in a lost war, he had reached for her hand and hadn’t wanted to let go.
Curiously he felt less emotional response toward the demise of his marriage than he had even a day ago. Perhaps the last day had driven him someplace more objective. Worrying about staying alive, and keeping Francis alive, had somehow put a year-dead marriage in perspective.
When he had walked with Francis up from the ocean, returning to the stream, just hearing Christie’s shouts had made his eyes moist. Seeing her leaning against the tree, unharmed, had allowed the knot in his stomach to finally unwind.
Under different circumstances he might have given a relationship with her a chance. That seemed impossible now. He had
minimized his response to her since crossing the stream. Her betrayal had taken them too far in one direction to change, and there wasn’t anything he could do about that.
He downed two more aspirin and eventually fell asleep, but the aching pain in his leg woke him before the others. Late morning sunshine crept in past the sides of the closed blinds.
He rebandaged his wounds, pulled on his clothing, and limped out of the room. His thigh burned, but his stride improved a little as he limped along.
The clerk glanced at his leg but gave him directions to the nearest convenience store. He drove there to get food and stronger painkillers. Later he went shopping at a clothing store. He bought a pair of sandals for Christie and jeans for himself, which he slipped on at the store.
When he returned the others were awake. Without a word he left the sandals and food on the table, and then walked to the office to use a phone. Their phones had been ruined in the water.
He dialed Kergan’s number. Kergan answered on the first ring.
“Everything’s busted wide open, Jack. I’m waiting for you at the Four Seasons.”
Steel sagged inwardly. “There were three of them here. It’s been messy.”
“We’ll clean it up. It’s been unbelievable stateside. Don’t worry. I brought a lot of help. We’ll wait for you. Just get over here, my friend. We have work to do. It’s not over.”
He hung up, feeling better with Kergan here. When he returned to the room, Christie and Francis were in the communal kitchen, cooking breakfast.
“We have help,” he said. “It’s time to go back.”
Francis beamed at him, but Christie kept her eyes on the bacon sizzling in the pan.
CHAPTER 83
By protecting Francis, Steel finally felt absolved from what had happened on the Komodo Op. Redemption for other things was possible too, he told himself.
They caught an early afternoon flight back to Kahului, Maui, and he drove the rental Jeep along the Mokulele Highway toward Wailea. The sun shone brightly.
Francis and Christie looked rested. Christie favored her foot, but from the look of things it wasn’t broken, just badly bruised. The painkillers helped her, and also reduced his leg pain to a manageable degree. No one had been talkative in the morning, but Francis beamed in the back seat.
“This is a big moment in my life,” said the friar. “For a long time I saw myself as a martyr to some cause, even ready to die for it. My friend Rivera told me I invited death. I think he was right. Now I’ll finally realize the beginning of my mission and be able to give my message to the whole world. Thank you, Jack Steel, for allowing me to fulfill my hopes.” He patted Steel’s shoulder.
“I owed you.” Steel took a deep breath and glanced over at Christie. Her head was turned away as she looked west at the rising peak of Pu’u Kukui.
The two of them hadn’t exchanged more than five words all morning, each of them talking to Francis more than each other. He hadn’t asked her, but he was sure she planned to leave upon their return to the hotel. It would be awkward if she remained the whole week.
Other feelings stirred below the surface, but he decided they were best let go. It was time for both of them to move on, past whatever they might have shared. He remained quiet.
They pulled into the Four Seasons and walked to his room. He put the key in the door, but it was unlocked. Christie pulled out the Glock. Francis backed up. Pulling his silenced Glock, Steel toed the door open.
Kergan sat on a chair on the balcony. He wore a gray shirt and white slacks, his gray mane of hair neatly combed. As always, his gray eyes were steady, secure. He quickly got up with a smile and crossed the room, his arms outstretched.
Steel put away his gun and grasped his friend tightly. He hadn’t hugged anyone in a long time. He introduced Francis and Christie, and then asked, “Well?”
“A moment.” Kergan returned to the balcony and pulled a chair in, then slid the door shut and closed the drapes. His gaze swung from Francis, who stood politely by the door, to Steel.
“I’ve told him everything,” said Steel.
Kergan nodded and turned to Francis. “Our government owes you an apology, but I’m afraid you’ll never get it. The president will never admit he authorized the Komodo Op, but we can tell you that the men responsible will be dealt with. They abused the power of their offices and will pay the price.”
Francis nodded. “I understand. Corruption is not unique to the United States. Mexico is well acquainted with it.” He looked to Steel and Christie. “Muchas gracias, amigos.” He smiled.
Christie hugged the friar, as did Steel.
Francis left.
Kergan sat in the chair near the patio door, across from the side of the bed. He motioned to it.
Christie sat by the pillow, Steel at the foot of the bed. He didn’t look at her.
Kergan studied them. “You both look a mess.”
“What happened stateside?” asked Steel.
“Sorenson and Danker were murdered.” Kergan shook his head before Steel could ask a question. “We don’t know who did it. It was made to look like a Colombian revenge hit, but no one is buying it.”
“Who, then?” asked Christie.
Kergan shrugged.
“It had to be Torr,” said Steel. “How can you be sure the operatives targeting Francis are all secured?”
“I didn’t want to alarm Francis, but we’re not. I’ve got men watching him now. The Grand Wailea is swarming with our people.”
Steel stiffened. “I need to be there for his talk.”
Kergan raised an eyebrow. “I know, Jack, but we’ve got another problem.” On the floor against the wall rested a thin, black briefcase, which he lifted to his lap and opened. “I want to show you something, to see if you recognize it.”
“The Paragon file?” he asked.
“Not quite.” Kergan closed the briefcase, a silenced Browning HP in his hand.
Steel felt like he had taken a punch to the chest.
“Don’t look so shocked, Jack. You always were naive about people, weren’t you? Too trusting. Pull out your guns, with two fingers, and throw them over.”
CHAPTER 84
Steel pulled the Glock from his back and tossed it. Christie opened her purse under Kergan’s watchful eyes and brought out the Glock she had taken from the Hawaiian, dropping it to the floor.
“The knife, Jack.”
He reached behind his back and drew the OTF knife, tossing it to the floor.
Kergan lifted his chin. “I tried to keep you out of this, Jack, but you just wouldn’t let it go. Sorenson wanted someone on the inside so he approached Danker to ask Christie to run the Paktika Ops by you. My referral of her was to make it feel legit.”
Kergan glanced at Christie. “I thought it was a bad idea, but I had no choice. I also knew Torr tried to kidnap Carol—to get to you, Jack. He didn’t like it that Hulm was letting you run free and guessed they were using you to try to bring him down.”
Steel couldn’t speak at first. “Money?” he asked softly.
“Of course. The Paragon project shouldn’t have lasted even two years. However, two key people on the Senate Armed Services Committee, and two individuals on the Pentagon’s Defense Acquisition Board, insured the project won continued support.”
Steel’s eyes narrowed. “Paid off by MultiSec.”
Kergan moved his gun imperceptibly. “I’ll shoot you before you take one step, Jack.”
Steel had to clear his throat. “Tom Bellue figured it out.”
Kergan nodded. “Bellue did spot checks on warehouses where MultiSec claimed they had certain assets. One warehouse had eight million dollars in leftover parts missing from the Paragon project. Normally eight million would have been brushed aside, mentioned and written off with a multibillion dollar company like MultiSec. But in a way Bellue was
like you. He just couldn’t let go.
“I also think Bellue intended to be a whistleblower and try to get a percentage of the money that was taken. He looked at accounts payable and discovered millions went to dummy corporations whose records of incorporation showed they were filed under the maiden names of the wives of the four individuals who kept the Paragon project alive.”
“You were one of the four people.” Steel’s mind raced through ways to attack Kergan.
“Sorenson was the other general.”
“Who were the senators?” asked Christie.
Kergan smiled. “The current president and CIA Director Hulm.”
“Hulm had Bellue and Grove killed.” Steel didn’t see how Hulm or the president could be brought to justice.
“I wasn’t involved with the details.” Kergan leaned back.
Steel’s hands formed fists on his thighs, trying to stall for time. “You were like a father to me.”
Kergan grimaced, lifting his gun slightly. “That’s why I’m working myself up to this.”
Steel seethed inside but kept his face neutral. “What went wrong?”
“When William Torr was vice president at MultiSec, he secretly recorded conversations between Sorenson, the president, Hulm, and myself when we talked to MultiSec’s CEO and a few of their lead people to keep the Paragon project going. Torr blackmailed his superiors and took over MultiSec, and then threatened to use the recordings against us. I retired early so he couldn’t use me. But he blackmailed the other three to run the Komodo Op, intending to kill General Vegas and the friar.”
Kergan paused. “I’ve watched Torr jerk the others around and waited for them to pick each other off. I put in my two cents occasionally and was kept updated by Sorenson and a friend in the CIA. I’m certain Torr had Danker and Sorenson killed.”
Steel realized then that Danker had been the lone person entering his property when he went to see Grove. Danker must have found the Paragon file copy and blackmailed Torr. “You’re going to kill Torr.”
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