The Girl in the Moon

by Terry Goodkind

  “That could get you killed.”

  “Maybe. I need something and you are going to help me.”

  “I don’t think I can, Jack. We don’t have a working agreement with you anymore.”

  “That’s a really shitty attitude, Angus, considering everything I’ve done for you.”

  “And we appreciate it. You saved our asses any number of times. But I must advise you not to start getting troublesome. You could find yourself dead again, only this time it would be permanent. Then what you know gets buried with you.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Angus. You see, if I don’t report in on a regular basis, everything I know about the entire alphabet soup of agencies, including yours, along with various operations that would cause an uproar if it were to be divulged, is going to be revealed in detail to Congress, the Senate, the Justice Department, the media, and posted online for everyone to see in black and white.”

  There was a long silence.

  “I think you should be careful making threats, Jack.”

  “Here’s the deal, Angus. I’m not fucking around. Either you help me and do what I need done, or a whole lot of people are going to find a noose around their necks. Yours may be one of those necks.”

  His resistance finally broke down a little. “All right, Jack, I’ll hear you out. I owe you that much. You’ve done a lot of good things for us. Maybe I can help. What do you need?”

  Jack decided to let him pretend he was doing the right thing for the right reasons.

  “I’m in a city called Milford Falls, New York. I’m parked outside the federal building there. The first thing I want is for the snipers on rooftops to point their weapons elsewhere.”

  “Okay. I don’t know why they would be doing such a thing, but I’ll put an end to it. No problem. Is that it?”

  “You heard about the atom bomb that was assembled here and just about to head into New York City?”

  “Jesus Christ, Jack, that’s classified at the highest level. How the hell did you find out about that?”

  “I’m the one who called it in. I’m the one who provided the coordinates so a team could get in there and stop it.”

  “That was you?”

  “That was me.”

  Angus let out an audible sigh. “Okay, you have my attention. What’s your problem?”

  “Black ops of some kind swooped in here and took my asset.”

  There was a long pause before the man finally spoke. “Your asset? All I’m at liberty to say is that our people followed some terrorists in a sedan and a pickup on satellite imagery as they were speeding away from the scene. Before the team could stop them, the sedan crashed and four men were killed. They traced the pickup to a bar and picked a woman up later.”

  Jack took a breath to calm himself. “Angus, my asset and I went in there and found the bomb. I provided the coordinates. As we were getting out of there four terrorist lookouts chased us. That’s why we were going fast. They crashed. We didn’t.”

  “The car crashed, she didn’t. That doesn’t prove she isn’t one of the terrorists.”

  “There is a cistern out there. You will find the bodies of two men down inside. One has a piece of rebar through his skull. The other one is missing his left eye. My asset did that to them to find out where the bomb was. She is the one who got that information and saved your ass, along with the lives of hundreds of thousands of people.”

  “We don’t approve of torture.”

  “Ah, okay, thanks for letting me know. The next time I’ll just let the nuke go off. Is that the way you want it, Angus?”

  “Look Jack, this is a messy situation. Politicians are involved now.”

  “I don’t see it as messy at all. My asset stopped a nuclear attack. She is on our side. I want her back. What’s messy about that?”

  Angus let out a deep breath into the receiver. “Can I be completely honest with you?”

  “I wish you would.”

  “Those terrorist attacks all over the country have everyone screaming for blood. The Russian hack has us on the brink of war.”

  “It wasn’t a Russian hack. It was the terrorists making everyone think it was the Russians as a diversion. Are all your people stupid enough to fall for that remote-server trick? Do I need to explain to you how it works?”

  “No, of course not. But that’s what was leaked to the press. Perception is reality. It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. Everyone wants blood. The government has to be seen as delivering it. With such fragmented attacks involving so many groups, no one knows where to strike back, so the Russians have become the target of everyone’s anger. We have our nukes on alert.”

  “What the hell does that have to do with you people snatching my asset?”

  “Those attacks caught every agency with their pants down. Most of those terrorists were on watch lists. You and I both know that watch lists are largely propaganda to satisfy the public. The lists don’t mean squat if the people on them weren’t stopped before they launch attacks. They weren’t. Everyone from the FBI to the NSA to Justice dropped the ball.”

  “That’s because they’re all too busy spying on Americans instead of doing their job,” Jack said. “There are a lot of dedicated people there—or at least there used to be—”

  “You’re right, Jack, but look, the agencies need to shift public anger from them by putting the blame on something other than radical Islamic terrorism. They needed a sacrificial lamb.

  “That girl is a nobody. She’s just a bartender who grew up in a trailer park. It’s easy for them to paint her as a right-wing terrorist. That fits the narrative they want to push—a white female terrorist who isn’t Muslim. That fits their political agenda perfectly, so they’ve latched on to her with their claws and they aren’t going to let go.

  “They caught her with a knife, an unregistered gun, no permit to carry it, and an unlicensed suppressor. That’s a federal offense in and of itself. That fits the picture they intend to paint. Once they get a confession out of her, that will redirect everyone’s anger to her, rather than Islam. If they hang her as a traitor and terrorist that will cement public opinion that it’s right-wing terrorism, and not Islamic radicalism that’s to blame. That’s what they want to push to the public.

  “You know as well as I do, Jack, that sometimes sacrifices have to be made to keep the public happy. She’s the sacrifice. You need to let it go. The public perception is more important.”

  Jack was so angry he could hardly speak. “So you want to fry the very person who saved the country from a nuclear attack? Are you fucking kidding me!”

  “Calm down, Jack. It’s necessary for the good of—”

  “That girl is my asset,” Jack said in a menacing voice. “Not yours, mine. What would your life be like right now had the nuke gone off in New York City?”

  “Well, I—”

  “I’m done fucking around, here, Angus. Here is what you’re going to do. You’re going to get the people who have her to release her. I don’t give a fuck which agency has her. You are going to get them to let her go. At the same time, you are going to bless her so that she is never touched again. Do you hear me?”

  “You expect her to be blessed? I don’t know that I can—”

  “You can and you will. You’re also going to have the feds issue her a license to carry any goddamn weapon she wants to. Got that? She uses those weapons to fight for us.”

  “All I can do, Jack, is see if—”

  “I don’t think you understand, Angus. I’m not asking, I’m telling. Your ass, and the asses of a lot of people above your pay grade, are on the line right here, right now, and my finger is on the trigger.

  “There are a lot of brave, unsung heroes working in those agencies. You used to be one of them. But there are also a lot of fucking assholes shifting the priorities of those intel agencies to their political schemes. Those rotten apples don’t give a goddamn about the country, they only care about political ends. If I pull the trigger a lot o
f those agencies are going to come crashing down. Including yours. Maybe it’s time that happens—”

  “All right, Jack, calm down, calm down. There is no reason to get crazy. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You’re not going to ‘see what you can do,’ Angus, you’re going to fucking do it, period. I’m not playing games here.

  “I want Angela Constantine released. I want her name cleared. I want her blessed. I want her licensed to carry anything, including a goddamn rocket launcher if she wants one so that no one can pull this crap again. And I want everyone—everyone—to leave her the hell alone from now on. Make one misstep here, Angus, and it’s all over for you and a lot of other people. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, all right, that’s clear. Let me go and get to work on this. But Jack, my people aren’t the ones who have her. I’m not running this show. I’ll need to drill down and find out exactly who is involved, what their game is, and then pull rank where I can and where I can’t, I’ll have to make some serious threats to get everyone marching to the same drum.”

  Jack switched to a calm, quiet tone. “All right, Angus. You do that. I’m going to sit right here with eyes on that building. If one of those snipers pulls a trigger on me, or if anyone lays a finger on my asset, or they try to run to ground with her, or you don’t get her out of this exactly as I say—and right bloody now—you are going down, your agency is going down, and a whole lot of other people and agencies are going to find themselves in the middle of a wildfire they can’t control.

  “I came back from the dead to save Angela Constantine. That should tell you how serious I am. I’ve never threatened you before, Angus—you know that—but I’m threatening you now. I think you know I’m not bluffing.”

  “No, Jack, if there’s the one thing I know about you it’s that you don’t bluff. But please, this is going to take me some time to unwind.”

  “Do you have the number of this phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “You go unwind it and then call me. I’m not going anywhere until this is resolved. And Angus, the longer I sit here, the itchier my trigger finger is going to get.”

  He hung up without waiting for a response.

  As Jack sat in his car, watching the federal building, he fumed as he thought about what they were putting Angela through. It was Saturday, so no one went into the federal building, but there were other businesses open. All day long people came and went. The snipers on top of the federal building had vanished shortly after Jack’s call with Angus ended.

  But still, Angela didn’t come out. He knew how terrifying those people could be in an interrogation. He had to smile to himself. He guessed they couldn’t hold a candle to how terrifying Angela was at running an interrogation.

  Angus called every few hours to assure Jack that he was working on it. Gradually, over the course of those calls, the man warmed up to Jack and little by little came to realize he wanted to be working on the same side as Jack—the right side. Jack thought it sounded like Angus gradually came to remember the kind of man he used to be, and why he had wanted his job.

  Politics were a plague to dedicated agents like Angus, but he had to play the game. Over time it was corrosive. What was going on with Angela Constantine for political reasons was more than wrong and had nothing to do with legitimate national security. Throughout the day, Angus became ever more intolerant of it. Jack assumed that part of the reason was that Angus was encountering resistance, and Angus didn’t appreciate resistance. He expected his calls to be taken and his orders to be followed.

  In early evening, Angus called again.

  “I’m still working on it, Jack. Sit tight. I’m going to get this straightened out, I swear. I’m on your side, here.”

  “Right now, I’m on Angela’s side. I want this ended.”

  “I know, I know. Please understand, it’s more complicated than you realize. I’m dealing with a lot of hotheads who think that executing her as a traitor will make their careers. They’re still interrogating her. They want a quick conviction and execution.”

  “She’s innocent. What could they possibly get out of her?”

  “Honestly? They are pushing her to sign a confession. So far, they haven’t let her rest or have any water. So far, though, they’ve only gotten three words out of her.”

  “What three words?”

  “The only thing she’s said to them—the only thing—is ‘Go fuck yourself.’ That is one tough girl.”

  Jack had to smile. “I know. Get her out of there, Angus.”

  “I’ll call back as soon as I’ve cracked this nut and gotten everyone down on the carpet at my feet.”

  After he hung up, Jack rubbed his eyes as he slid down in his seat a little and then folded his arms. He was tired, worried, angry, and frustrated. He knew that he had to rely on Angus’s sense of self-preservation.

  Sometime in the late evening, Dvora called. She told him that they were picking up a lot of internal friction between agencies. She said that whatever was going on behind the scenes, it was big.

  “They want a scapegoat,” he told her. “Now that they have a rope around her neck they don’t want to let go.”

  “Let me know as soon as you get her out.”

  Jack promised he would, and then went back to waiting.

  A little after midnight, his phone rang again.

  He answered it immediately.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  Agent Lumley placed the knuckles of his fists on the far side of the table and leaned in, his face hovering in close to hers. Angela was handcuffed to the chair she was in, so there wasn’t much she could do about it.

  “I’ve about had it with you, Constantine.”

  Angela didn’t say anything.

  He slapped her hard enough that she thought it might have loosened some teeth. “You’re a worthless human being.”

  She wiped the blood running from the corner of her mouth on her shoulder.

  He straightened and took a long swig of water from a half-full bottle. He slammed the bottle down on the table in front of her.

  “Thirsty?”

  Angela stared off at nothing. She didn’t answer. With her wrists handcuffed behind her back she wouldn’t have been able to take the water bottle even if he had allowed it.

  She was so thirsty that that was about all she could think about. Her tongue felt like it was turning to paste. She tried not to think about it. When she’d been in the hospital they hadn’t let her drink anything for a time. They had given her ice chips. She would love to have some ice chips.

  She was dead tired, but her anger, at a continual slow simmer, kept her awake. That, and the way they yelled at her nonstop, asking, demanding that she admit her part in the terror group. The agents had waved a confession in front of her face countless times, promising her that if she would sign it, then she could have all the water she wanted and they would let her lie down on a bed and get some sleep.

  Angela didn’t believe there was any bed to sleep on. She’d often been in the federal building delivering and picking up courier packages for lawyers. She had been in most of the rooms, or at least walked by them and seen inside.

  These men were holding her down in the basement. She’d never been in the basement before. It looked like nothing more than a utility room of some sort. The walls and concrete floor were painted gray. Folding chairs and tables were stacked against the wall behind her. The lighting was two humming fluorescent fixtures.

  They had opened one of those tables and sat her down on one side of it. They handcuffed her arms behind her back and her legs to the chair. Agents Goddard, Holgado, and Lumley usually faced her from the other side of the long table. Sometimes, though, one of them would circle around behind her and grab her by her hair to tip her face up to look at the one yelling at her nonstop.

  They all had long since shed their coats and ties and opened the collars of their white shirts. They all had sidearms but no badges on their belts. They had never said what agency they w
ere with and she never asked, because, as far as Angela was concerned, they were all basically the same people. She had always known it was best to avoid any kind of authority, like the police, but she had no way to avoid these men.

  Angela had, at one point, figured them out, and figured out what they were doing. They had come in here first in response to the bomb she and Jack had found. Since they were here first, they wanted to be the ones to break her and then take her back, like a pig tied to a pole.

  They wanted to be the heroes bringing her in. If they took her back to Washington before they got what they wanted out of her, then someone else would snatch her away and get to be the hero. Someone else would have a chance to get the credit for getting her to confess to being a terrorist.

  She knew from the outset that it was pointless to answer their questions or talk to them. This whole thing was absurd. These men didn’t care about the truth. They only cared about getting a confession out of her so they could play the hero and advance their own stock within their agency.

  Angela was, for the most part, no longer listening to them. They had nothing important or truthful to say. She had dealt with abusive men before who only wanted what they wanted from a woman who was weaker than they were. She did what she had learned to do when she was little. She let her mind go to another place. Her body was there in that basement room while the three men questioned her, accused her, yelled at her, threatened her, smacked her. It didn’t matter. She was gone.

  She might as well have been on the moon.

  Every once in a while, one of them, or occasionally two of them, would leave the room to take a phone call. She could hear their voices out in the stairwell, but she couldn’t tell what they were saying.

  Agent Lumley returned to the other side of the table and slammed the confession down in front of her again.

  “What do you say, Constantine? If you sign this confession, you can have a nice drink of water and finally get some rest. Most of all, you’ll be doing the right thing for a change.”

  Angela came back from that faraway place to look up at him.