by Will Jordan
Cain glanced at his watch. He was expected at Capitol Hill for his confirmation ceremony shortly, and to delay much longer would arouse suspicion. But he had time. After everything he’d done, he figured he could keep them waiting a few minutes.
‘I need ten minutes, son,’ Cain replied. ‘Alone.’
The young man didn’t look happy. Cain’s safety was his responsibility, and it went against protocol to leave him unprotected. ‘Sir, my orders are—’
‘You take your orders from me,’ Cain reminded him sharply. Softening his tone a little, he added, ‘Anyway, this won’t take long.’
Hesitating, the operative looked towards Cain’s destination, guessing his intentions. Given everything that had happened tonight, it seemed understandable that a man would seek out such a place.
Reluctantly he nodded his assent.
Cain strode off down the street, his hands in his pockets and his coat turned up against the light drizzle. He could scarcely remember the last time he’d walked alone, unguarded, unwatched. Free.
The years of care and worry and pain seemed to fall from him with each step. It’s over, he told himself again, still struggling to come to terms with it. It had been worth it. It had all been worth it.
Cain’s eyes rose skyward as he drew near his destination, taking in the lofty bell tower and soaring columns of the National City Christian Church. One of the big neoclassical religious edifices erected throughout the city, this one overlooked the famous Thomas Circle, named after the famous Union general George Henry Thomas, whose mounted statue rested on a massive stone plinth in the centre.
Ignoring the sounds of traffic surging around the huge road conglomeration, Cain ascended the stone steps up to the church’s main entrance, mounting them slowly, as if each were a significant undertaking.
The doors were closed but unlocked, allowing worshippers to enter. Pushing the heavy barrier open, Cain stepped inside and gratefully allowed it to swing closed, shutting out the world. Cool, reflective silence closed in around him like a blanket. He breathed deep, taking a moment to appreciate the peace.
Making his way up the central aisle, he approached the altar near the massive pipe organ, where rows of candles burned gently in the cool, subdued gloom.
Reaching into his pocket, he carefully produced a small photograph that he’d kept with him every day for almost a year now. A picture that was just starting to fade and fray at the edges. His daughter, Lauren, killed the previous year in Berlin.
Another casualty of war. Another sacrifice.
Cain paused with the picture in his hand, allowing himself to reflect on everything he had done to get here, every person he’d manipulated and betrayed, every sacrifice he’d made, every sin he’d committed.
He couldn’t rightly say if he was deserving of redemption and forgiveness. He couldn’t even say whether James had been right after all, whether humanity was doomed without the Circle to maintain the balance of conflict and chaos. Perhaps it was futile to strive for something better.
All he knew was that he’d done his part.
And perhaps that was enough.
Placing the picture gently against one of the candles, he reached for a taper and used it to light the wick, saying a silent prayer for the young woman he’d lost. The flame was just sputtering to life when he became aware of footsteps approaching, soft and muted.
Coming for him.
‘I had a feeling you’d be here,’ he said quietly, blowing out the taper. ‘I knew you’d find me sooner or later.’
‘You know why I’ve come.’
‘I do.’ Cain turned slowly to face the new arrival. ‘It’s good to see you, Anya.’
Chapter 57
Behind the wheel of a black unmarked Agency service vehicle, Hawkins was en route to the rendezvous point in an underground parking lot just north of the Capitol Building. From there, he was to take command and coordinate the various field teams who would oversee Cain’s journey back to Langley.
The Circle might have been eliminated, but both Drake and Anya were still out there somewhere. Killing them as well would be the crowning achievement in what had, so far at least, proven to be an extremely satisfying day.
He glanced up, taking in the sight of the huge white building with its grand columns and towering central dome about a mile distant. An impressive building, he conceded. Shame about the assholes who worked there.
His attention was drawn back to the vehicle when his cell phone started buzzing. It was an unknown number.
Frowning, Hawkins hit Receive. ‘Who is this?’
‘Listen carefully, Mr Hawkins,’ the caller instructed. ‘If you want to live through the next hour, you’ll do exactly what I say.’
* * *
For the next few seconds, neither Cain nor Anya made a move. They stood their ground in silence, each taking the measure of the other, each subconsciously comparing the person before them with the one they’d thought they’d known.
She’s older, Cain found himself thinking. There were lines around her mouth and eyes that hadn’t been there the last time they’d met. Her blonde hair was wet from the earlier downpour. She looked tired, and in pain. A woman for whom life had been particularly harsh and unkind.
And yet here she was. Hurt but undaunted. Scarred and embittered, but resolute.
She had carved a trail of blood and death from one side of the world to another, each step bringing her closer to this moment.
‘Twenty years,’ the woman began, her voice calm, hushed. No anger, no hatred. Just a quiet resolve to learn the truth. ‘Everything you did for twenty years: every lie and secret and betrayal. It was all for tonight, wasn’t it?’
He had lied many times in his life, but not tonight. ‘Yes.’
Anya tilted her head slightly, trying to fathom the mind of the man in front of her. The phenomenal reserves of patience and mental fortitude needed to maintain the ruse for so long, to prove himself time and again. To win over their trust until at last, the time came to strike them down.
‘Was it worth it?’ she asked. ‘Was it worth it to stand here now?’
Cain’s eyes strayed to the photograph placed carefully against the candle, the image aglow with the flickering light. His only daughter, taken from him just like so many others. Some of them had been good, others bad. Some deserved death, others a chance at life. All of them weighed heavily on him, and would do for the rest of his days.
But the woman standing before him now endured more, sacrificed more, lost more than almost any other. If only she understood the decisions he’d been forced to make, the impossible choices that had been thrust upon him, the cruel twists of fate, circumstances and mistakes that had conspired to drive them apart.
‘Do you remember what you told me once?’ he asked, revisiting an old memory from two decades ago. ‘You said they’d use us until there was nothing left. They would take everything from us, destroy everything we were.’
Anya’s haunted expression told him she remembered it all too well.
‘You were right about them, Anya,’ he whispered. ‘Even back then, you knew what they were. You’re the reason I turned against them, made it my life’s work to destroy them. And tonight, I made them pay for that. I took back everything they stole from us.’
‘No,’ she retorted, a flicker of cold anger showing behind those steely blue eyes for the first time. ‘I can’t get back what I lost. My family, my freedom… my future. I gave you my life, Marcus.’
Her voice wavered as she struggled to keep control. She looked lost and vulnerable in that moment, desperate for understanding.
‘I did everything that was asked of me. Why wasn’t it enough?’
‘I wish I knew,’ Cain admitted.
Anya swallowed hard, and he saw tears glistening in her eyes.
‘I have to know one thing… before the end,’ she managed to say. ‘Why did you sell me out to the Russians? Why did you betray me?’
They had come at last to the fin
al moment. Anya’s brutal and relentless quest for answers had carried her all across the world. She had evaded every trap set for her, had killed men both powerful and dangerous, had pieced together every clue, until at last she’d ended up here.
Yet the final answer still eluded her. Anya, he thought as he looked at her then, seeing a shadow of the bright, vibrant young woman she’d once been. There was a time when I would have died for you. You were the bravest and most incredible woman I ever knew, and I loved you. But still you don’t understand.
Without hesitation, Marcus Cain gave his answer.
‘I didn’t betray you, Anya.’
Golyanovo District, Moscow – March 10th, 2003
‘No,’ Cain said.
Even in the half-shadows of the dark, abandoned construction site, Cain saw the older man’s face fall.
‘What did you say?’
‘I said no, Viktor,’ Cain repeated, his heart pounding as the words came out. But the moment they did, he felt a surge of something he hadn’t felt in a long time. The sure and certain knowledge that for once in his life, he was doing the right thing. ‘I won’t sell her out. Not to you, not to anyone. That’s a line I won’t cross.’
‘You would sacrifice thousands of lives, to save just one?’ Surovsky asked, incredulous at the thought. ‘No woman is worth that much.’
‘She is to me,’ Cain retorted. No matter their differences, no matter how distant they’d become, Anya had never once betrayed him. She had never sold him out. How could he do any different?
‘Do you have any idea what I am offering?’
‘I know exactly what you’re offering, and I know I’d never be able to live with it,’ Cain said truthfully. ‘If I betray the people who risk their lives for me, I’m no better than you, Viktor.’
At this, the old man snorted with grim amusement. ‘I imagined you to be many things, Mr Cain. A hopeless idealist is not one of them.’
‘I’m happy to disappoint you.’ He turned to leave, then halted. ‘Oh, one more thing. In case you find yourself in a position of power someday, know this – I won’t forget our conversation tonight.’
With that, he turned his back on the man and departed, leaving Viktor Surovsky alone in the darkness.
* * *
‘I refused,’ Cain finished, bringing his short recount to an end. ‘The chance to kill Hussein, stop the war before it began… I gave it up. For you, Anya. I couldn’t betray you.’
Anya stood in stunned silence, eyes wide, mind racing, trying to understand what she’d heard. Trying to comprehend how it could match up with everything she’d discovered. Then slowly she turned to look at him, her expression hardening.
‘You’re lying.’
‘It’s the truth. Only the truth.’
‘Enough!’ she yelled, her voice echoing across the huge, empty church. In a flash she had drawn her sidearm and trained it on him. ‘I was captured, handed over to the Russians like a piece of meat. Carpenter, Surovsky, Qalat… every link in the chain led back to you.’
She stepped closer, the gun trembling slightly.
‘Every single one of them told me the same story – that I was betrayed by my own people. How else do you explain that?’
Cain sighed; he’d known this moment had been coming. And he knew what he had to tell her. He did indeed have an explanation, however difficult it might be for her to hear. All he could do was present the truth.
‘Because I wasn’t the only one there that night.’
* * *
Viktor Surovsky was just turning to leave, still marvelling at Cain’s arrogance and stupidity, when suddenly another figure appeared in front of him, emerging from the shadows like a ghost.
Surovsky drew back, reaching for the weapon inside his coat. Perhaps Cain had not been as forthcoming as he’d claimed, bringing some hidden assassin to the meeting with him, ready to strike him down.
‘Wait,’ a woman’s voice urged in Russian. ‘I’m not your enemy.’
The FSB agent stopped, surprised and intrigued.
‘Really?’ Surovsky asked warily. ‘Then tell me, what are you? A lost tourist?’
‘Not quite.’
The mysterious interloper stepped forward, allowing the pale moonlight to play across her face. Even in the poor light, Surovsky made out long dark hair and an elegant, attractive countenance. No longer young perhaps, but strikingly beautiful all the same.
‘Think of me as an… intermediary,’ she explained. ‘Someone who can provide what you’re looking for… if you give me what I want.’
Surovsky’s eyes narrowed. ‘Clearly Mr Cain doesn’t know about this.’
‘Marcus Cain is weak and sentimental. His judgement on this matter is clouded,’ the woman said disparagingly. ‘Mine is not.’
‘Perhaps so.’ Surovsky conceded. ‘But how do I know you can deliver Maras?’
In the wan moonlight, he saw her smile faintly. ‘Because I know a great deal about her. I helped train her, in fact. I know where she’s going and why. And because I helped broker the meeting she’s rushing to attend.’
‘And you would betray this woman?’ he asked, dubious. ‘Someone you trained?’
‘To stop a war? Absolutely. Some things are bigger than personal loyalty. Cain never understood that, but I do.’
Reaching into his coat, Surovsky produced his hip flask once more and took a gulp, grimacing as his stomach knotted in protest. An ulcer, flaring up again. He held out the flask to her, and this time she took it and swallowed a generous measure.
‘What should I call you?’ he asked.
‘You can call me Freya.’
Chapter 58
Pulling into a vacant space in the underground parking lot, Hawkins killed the engine and stepped out of his SUV, glancing along the rows of parked vehicles in search of the field team that was supposed to meet him.
‘Come out, come out, wherever you are,’ he said under his breath.
As if in response, a pair of headlights flicked on at the far end of the underground space, accompanied by the rumble of an engine firing into life. A panel van, judging by the general dimensions.
Hawkins stood his ground as the van approached, squinting a little in the glare of the headlights. Coming to a halt just a few yards away, the driver left the engine running as he opened the door and stepped out, accompanied by two more men from the sliding door on the side.
‘I don’t recognise you guys,’ Hawkins remarked as the trio approached, each wearing hard, serious expressions. ‘You new?’
The driver, evidently the leader, spoke a single, terse command. ‘You’re coming with us.’
Hawkins’ eyes narrowed. ‘Am I?’
At a nod from the leader, all three men drew down on him. Hawkins didn’t make a move. Cain had sold him out, he knew then. Discarding him now that he’d served his purpose. Giving him up to people who wanted him dead.
‘That wasn’t a request.’
Hawkins glanced from one man to the next, taking note of the weapons in their hands, the look of cold, ruthless determination on their faces. Each of these men was a professional killer – of that much he was certain – and was no stranger to moments like this. He had been on the other side of this particular situation many times.
‘Three of you, huh?’ Hawkins taunted them. ‘Thought they would have sent more.’
‘Get on your knees and put your hands behind your head.’
Hawkins considered it, then shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
A trio of silenced gunshots rang out, coming in such close succession that they seemed to blend into one. All three men jerked convulsively as the projectiles impacted, then fell to the ground like marionettes with their strings severed.
Hawkins watched without emotion as his would-be abductors lay twitching at his feet, their blood pooling on the concrete.
‘Clear!’ a young woman called out.
Glancing up from the dead bodies, Hawkins smiled as Riley rose up from behind one
of the parked cars and approached him, flanked by two other members of Hawkins’ team. All three were holding silenced M4 assault rifles with telescopic sights.
‘Good shooting,’ Hawkins commended her.
Riley’s face darkened with anger as she regarded the dead bodies. ‘Cain fucked us,’ she spat. ‘What the hell are we going to do now?’
‘We’re on our own. Once this is over, we’re officially freelance.’
He was done taking orders, done risking his life for causes he didn’t care about, done answering to fools who would sell him out at a moment’s notice. When this was all over, he was taking his unit and packing up. A group like his would have their pick of ops anywhere in the world.
Riley’s smile was eager and predatory. ‘About goddamn time.’
‘But first we’ve got some business to finish,’ Hawkins said, turning away.
‘What kind of business?’ Riley asked.
He smiled, anticipating the payback he was owed. ‘Marcus Cain.’
* * *
‘She must have followed me there that night,’ Cain explained. ‘She cut a deal with Surovsky by herself. By the time I figured out what had happened, they had you.’
Cain fell silent then, watching the play of emotions across Anya’s face. She looked as if her world was collapsing around her. Everything she had believed, the ruthless and single-minded search for answers that had sustained her for the past four years, gone in an instant.
‘If you are lying to me…’
‘Look at me, Anya,’ Cain implored her. ‘I’m done lying. Everything I’ve told you is the truth. No more, no less.’
The look in Anya’s eyes confirmed she believed him.
‘Freya was the one who betrayed me.’
‘She did what I couldn’t,’ he grimly acknowledged. ‘For the… “greater good”.’
‘But it was all for nothing,’ Anya whispered. ‘Freya’s deal changed nothing. The war happened anyway.’
