“Rose, Cassidy is my…”
Rose McCollum could see right through the congressman now and she had every intention of making that known. “Cassidy is your ex-wife. That was your own doing and you know it. Now, Alex’s brother is here and Dylan and I are leaving.”
“You’re leaving with the agent’s brother?”
“No, I am leaving with Cassidy’s lover’s brother, Chris. Cassidy’s family, Dylan’s family…. MY family. Don’t call again. Dylan is upset enough. And, Chris? If you wanted to be here, you’d find a way.”
“Dylan and Cassidy are my family,” he said with his own frustration mounting, “not some FBI agent that…”
“No? You could learn a few things from Alex. Funny, you may have gotten her suspended, even fired…Yet, she’s still on her way here to help Cassie; how I can’t even imagine. And, I doubt the entire Army could stop her from being here for Dylan’s party. Don’t call. I’m sure Alex will call you when she knows something. You are Dylan’s father after all.” She hung up the phone.
Nick accepted the small boy into his arms and led him to the living room. He put Dylan in a chair and squatted in front of him. “Why are you crying, Dylan?”
“No one will tell me,” Dylan said through his tears.
“Tell you what?”
“Where my mom is.” The boy knew something was wrong and the only person that hadn’t called was his mother. Even for a six year old, it was not a difficult puzzle to solve. At the end of the day, Cassidy was Dylan’s life. He loved his mother every bit as much as she loved him and he was terrified.
Nick sighed. He didn’t know all the details. He only knew that Cassidy was in some trouble and that Alex was on her way. He did know his sister. He had seen Cassidy’s intelligence and was keenly aware that anyone who could capture his sister’s heart had to be resilient and assertive as well as smart. “Dylan,” he said softly, “did you talk to Alex?” Dylan nodded. “What did she say?”
“She said she’d see me at your house…with Mom.”
“You know, if Alex told you that, then Alex will see you there with your mom.”
“She promised but Mom hasn’t called…”
The man stood and picked up the small boy, placing him on his lap. Rose reached the hallway and watched. His mannerisms were so much like his sister’s, but he had an even greater softness about him. Nick could tell that the small boy had already added two plus two and gotten four. Dylan may not have known details, but he was astute enough to know something was not right and all the denials were making it worse for him. “You know,” Nick began, wiping a tear from Dylan’s cheek. “When I was your age, do you know what I called Alex?” Dylan shook his head. “I called her my protector.” Nick smiled as he remembered their youth. “Alex always protected me. She never let anything bad happen to me, Dylan. That’s Alex. She loved me and she kept me safe.”
“Did someone try to hurt you?” Dylan asked.
“Well, sometimes but Alex never let them. And, there was one time this boy who was much bigger than me managed to hit me at school,” Dylan’s eyes grew wide as he looked at the man he now called ‘Uncle’. “Alex waited for him after school…”
“Did she beat him up?” Dylan’s eyes grew wide.
Nick laughed. “No, but she made him apologize and then she made him walk through the playground in his underwear.” Dylan giggled. “Listen, Dylan…Whatever is going on with your mom and with Alex, if Alex promised you she’d be at my house with your mom; she will be. She loves you both very much and she always keeps her promises.”
“I know,” he fought his tears. “I wish she was here.”
Nick felt he might cry himself. He’d seen Dylan with his sister and Cassidy just a few days ago. He knew how much the boy loved them both. He also was certain his sister would move heaven and earth to keep Cassidy safe. “It’ll be okay, Dylan. You know, we’d better go and get some practice in. Alex still thinks she and Cat can beat us at eight ball.” Dylan let out a small smile and hopped off Nick’s lap. “Plus, I hear we need to talk about birthday party games.”
Dylan’s eyes flew open. “Are you coming?”
“Of course! Your mom talked to Aunt Barb earlier. We wouldn’t miss our favorite nephew’s seventh birthday.” Dylan hugged Nick’s waist. “All right,” the man said looking over to Rose. “We’d better get moving, if Alex beats us there, she’ll have my head!”
“No, she’s our protector,” Dylan reminded his uncle.
Nick chuckled, “that she is, Dylan. That she is.”
Carl Fisher paced back and forth in front of Cassidy. He was ranting and rambling. Every so often he would drink from a large silver flask and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. There was a knife in his red bag that Cassidy noticed he would fondle every now and again. The teacher watched him closely trying to discern what he might do next. Her hands were bound tightly and it hurt to move them, but she kept shifting them as much as she could, hoping that her repetitive action would loosen the knots. He crouched in front of her and put his hands on her thighs. “Congressman, Agent….ohhh Johnny. My turn,” he sighed. “You see them….I see you.” Cassidy felt a chill run up her spine at his words. It reminded her of the letters. “MMM…I know you….yes I do.” The small blonde woman was deceptively strong. She kept her legs still as much as she could. Gradually she shifted them forward into a position that she knew would allow her kick him forcefully if she needed to. She wondered if she did, what she could possibly do next. The thought of him touching her was making her ill. She kept trying to recall Alex’s voice, Alex’s face, Dylan’s face. She was a teacher not a fighter. But, she was determined he would not have his way; not with her.
“You like it….the strong ones…tell me that….he was weak….not like me…Ummm…” Fisher ran his left hand along the inside of Cassidy’s thigh and then to her stomach. She flinched and he grabbed her. “What is that? Listen to me. It’s MY TURN. You are mine.” He leaned in and bit her ear. A painful yelp escaped from behind the tape and Cassidy struggled not to throw up. He smiled and pulled back and then he looked at her. His eyes traveled the length of her body. He took another sip from his flask and set it down with force. His hands reached in the bag and she sighed at the instrument now in his hand. He grinned and licked his lips in anticipation. “It’s MY TURN.”
Krause pushed some brush aside that rested along the line of shrubbery separating the yards. He took stock one last time of the man not very far away who was lying on the platform in the tree. This could either be an asset or a complication. There was no doubt in Krause’s mind that he had a better shot than the NSA agent. If they didn’t look too closely, they would assume the NSA agent had taken out Fisher. That would be one less tie to any of the players. He maneuvered the barrel carefully through the brush and squirmed through the scratchy greenery so that he could see clearly through his scope. Now he would wait.
Fisher was reaching for something. Krause squinted to bring it into focus as the crazed man moved just enough to the left that Krause could see Cassidy. Through the scope he could see the expression in her eyes. She was afraid, but she was also angry. He couldn’t help but smile. “Tu étais toujours aussi têtu que vous étiez belle. (You were always as stubborn as you were beautiful).” Krause concentrated. He had barely seen Cassidy these last few years. He remembered their time in France fondly and often. Cassidy had always kept their relationship platonic. The normally aloof Jonathan Krause fell for the good natured blonde almost immediately. He saw so much depth in her young eyes. She was always thinking, always exploring. He was not surprised that she had grown into a remarkable woman; just as he knew she would. His affection for the congressman’s wife had remained throughout the years. He never could understand what she saw in Christopher O’Brien. She was far more intelligent than the congressman. She was quick witted, able to read people and an adept communicator. “You should have been the politician,” he mused aloud. He had been making his way here deliberately when the
president called and he had his own reasons. He felt an unusual flutter and a rare knot in his stomach as Fisher leaned toward Cassidy now. This motion was different. There was something in his hand. No more waiting. Krause felt his anger burning hot as his finger steadily applied the necessary pressure. “Now,” he whispered with conviction.
Alex hung up her call with Steven Brady on the promise that he would call as soon as it was done. He needed to gain a good position. Fallon hung up the phone on the large desk at the rear of the plane simultaneously and turned to his friend. “Ferro will move in on your call.”
“Good,” Alex said. The agent felt the fatigue and worry of the day building in her back. She massaged her temples and a slight smile crept onto her face as she recalled Cassidy rubbing her shoulders gently. She shook her head and turned back to her partner. “Can’t compromise Brady.”
Fallon nodded his understanding. “Alex, if he kills Fisher your link to…”
“He’ll kill Fisher. Even if he didn’t, Fisher would be dead in hours, if not by his own hand then by someone else’s.” Alex exhaled with force and stood to stretch her back. She looked at her watch. “Less than a half hour now,” she paced. The president wasn’t joking about helping her. This was a plane normally used for the Secretary of State. He’d pulled more than rank. He’d called in favors and if ever Alex Toles was grateful for their friendship, it was now. The agent turned back to her partner, “Fisher’s not the only link, Fallon.”
“Yeah. What was O’Brien doing at your apartment?”
“Warning me…about Cass.” Fallon’s mouth flew open. “Yeah, tell me,” she said with sarcasm.
“You think he’s just, you know… Caught in something?”
Alex sighed. That thought had entered her mind but it disappeared just as quickly. She scratched her eyebrow and pursed her lips. She wished he was just caught in the middle of something he never intended to be involved in. He was Dylan’s father and Alex never wanted to see either Cassidy or Dylan hurt. But, no, she was certain whatever he was in the middle of he had willingly put himself there. The fact that he suspected Fisher was alive meant he was embedded in something deeply. The agent considered a measured response but then looked at her partner and answered directly. “No. Whatever he’s in, he knows more about it than he claims. And, he’s scared; not just for Cassidy, either,” she asserted.
Fallon shook his head. “Alex, do you think he knew? I mean that this…”
“I don’t know. God knows I don’t like the man. When he first showed, I thought, for a minute he was really worried about Cassidy and Dylan.”
“And now you don’t?”
Alex shrugged. “I do, as much as any narcissist can be concerned about someone else. But I saw him, that expression, looking at the picture of Cassidy on my table. I saw his possessiveness. Leopards don’t change their spots, Fallon.” Alex felt her phone buzz and looked at the number with concern. “Nick? What’s wrong? Is Dylan okay?”
Nick Toles was taken aback by the audible panic in his sister’s voice. “Alex, relax he’s fine. He’s in the car. I know you can’t talk, but call him when you can, okay?”
“What happened?” Alex asked her brother.
“His father called.”
Alex expected the congressman might do that. “Did he tell Dylan?”
“No, but Alex...he knows something is wrong. He’s scared…. and I just…”
Alex took a deep breath. “Nicky, I’m almost back. Just try and keep his mind off things, okay? Tell him I will be there as soon as I can.”
“Alex, what about…”
“Nick… please…”
Nick sighed. “All right.”
“What’s wrong?” Fallon asked.
Alex let out a nervous chuckle filled with disgust. “I’m going to figure out who is responsible for all of this, Fallon, if it is the last thing I do…I swear to you.” Her phone buzzed again.
John Merrow looked at the man across from him and shook his head. “This has gotten too far out of control.”
“I agree,” the man answered. “Krause was closer than Brady?”
“Yeah, he was on his way there. Fisher just beat him to the punch.”
The man scratched his head. “Mr. President, if Agent Toles is reinstated…”
The president laughed. “She will be reinstated and her conditions met; whatever they are.”
Assistant Director Tate shook his head. “Do you really think that is advisable? Although, I suppose New York will be beneficial to you.”
Merrow circled his desk. “Assistant Director, how well do you know Alex Toles?”
“Well, I think.”
“Hum. You don’t know Toles at all. You know how long she was at the NSA? What she did?”
“No, only what you’ve told me recently.”
“Well, let’s just say that Alex doesn’t forget anything she sees, not ever, and she’s tight lipped about that skill. I am talking FINE details; the shit that most trained agents and investigators miss after looking at something thousands of times. Alex will remember it in vivid detail ten years from now. She says she speaks seven languages, really it’s more like thirteen and she understands even more than that. You think Toles is strong and assertive, BOLD.” Merrow stopped and sat on the corner of the large desk. “She is, but she is also intelligent, compassionate, modest and full of integrity; more than anyone that ever served under me, ever.”
Tate contemplated the president’s complimentary assessment of the agent. “So then why not tell her?”
John Merrow let out a sigh and shook his head. “Did you hear what I said? Alex Toles has more integrity in her pinky finger than half the agents in your bureau combined. No, she would never agree,” he sighed again.
“Mr. President, I have no idea what is really going on, only what I need to know but maybe you should think about it…”
“No,” Merrow said firmly.
“You can’t fight Toles and keep protecting her.”
The president nodded. “Ever been in a war?”
“No,” the Assistant Director answered.
“Ever come close to death?”
“No,” Tate replied.
“Well, I have. Both, in fact, and the only reason I am sitting here right now is Alexis Toles. So, I will keep her as safe as I can, even if she has to be my adversary. That’s all you need to know. Grant the requests. If it wasn’t for Agent Toles, Mrs. O’Brien would likely be facing a different outcome.” The president moved to look into the Assistant Director’s eyes, “and, Tate, if you had kept Brackett where she was supposed to be….We would not be having this conversation. I may not have Alex’s propensity for remembering everything but my memory is still long, very long. Watch Claire Brackett like a hawk.”
Tate swallowed hard. The message was understood. He was to follow whatever John Merrow said. And, he’d better deliver.
Steven Brady crept forward and rested the barrel of the gun gently on the plywood wall of the small tree fort. He watched carefully as Carl Fisher moved from side to side, noting the man’s growing agitation. He still couldn’t see Cassidy and he wanted confirmation that she was clear of any shot he might have. That wasn’t just standard procedure; he knew what the woman inside meant to his friend. Brady had known Alex Toles for nearly eight years and he knew more about her than she suspected. Early on in their work together Alex had become very distant and Brady approached Michael Taylor about his concerns. They had been investigating the smuggling and exchange of ingredients for nerve gas. It had been sold to a radical Somalian group; a group that supposedly was seeking to root out Al Qaeda. It was a deal that was largely brokered by several high ranking Army officers as well as civilian employees within the Department of Defense and Homeland Security. Unfortunately, the true motives of the group were quite different from what they had claimed and the result was the loss of nearly a hundred innocent people, many children, as the group experimented with the weapon.
Taylor told Brady a story t
hat day. It explained a bit about Alex Toles and the distance she often seemed to keep. It happened in 2004 in Iraq, he explained. He and Lieutenant Toles had made their daily rounds of the streets of Baghdad. Toles, he shared with the young agent, had a warm relationship with the locals. Her ability to speak the language and her easy manner were an asset and she had developed a deep trust with many of the families and local merchants. The young lieutenant spent her free hours teaching the young girls and boys in the area English and even instructed many of their parents privately. She was particularly close to one family. Aban Awad owned a small bookstore just off the corner of Mutanabbi Street. He was a trusted contact and his daughter Sabeen had become a good friend of Alex’s. She was intelligent and beautiful, Taylor said. And while he knew that nothing was going on between the lieutenant and the woman; Taylor was sure that the young Toles was taken with Sabeen.
That day, as the sun was just beginning to set, a group of Americans were making their way to the bookstore for a dinner. It was supposed to be a thank you from the locals for the assistance that the group had given the area merchants. Taylor, Toles, their colonel, and three other officers were just turning the corner when Alex stopped. Taylor didn’t see it, but Toles did. She saw everything. She just saw it too late. Awad pushed Sabeen through the front door of the shop. The young Iraqi woman had a look of terror on her face. The next thing Taylor remembered Toles was pushing him and their colonel down, screaming. Then it went black. He recalled Alex crawling, or trying to, and screaming for Sabeen. When Taylor managed to open his eyes he saw the carnage. Three of their friends were dead. The colonel was bleeding from his head and had something deeply embedded in his left leg. Toles was moving, but barely. He could see that her shirt was soaked in blood as she turned, and Taylor could not feel his lower extremities at all. All told seventeen Iraqi civilians and three American servicemen died that day. Alex blamed herself. She’d missed the signs on the pass through. She’d misjudged Awad as a friend. She never understood that her quick thinking saved countless lives. That didn’t matter to Alex Toles. The story stayed with Steven Brady. Alex didn’t want to leave Iraq, Taylor told the young agent. She didn’t want the children to think she had abandoned them, but her injuries were serious and she was sent to a German hospital before returning to the states to undergo surgery.
Intersection Page 33
