by Adam Mitzner
“That’s not how we’re going to do it,” Jessica said. “Give us the room so I can consult with my client, please.”
After everyone cleared out, and it was just Jessica, Gwen, and Will, Jessica read them the riot act.
“What the hell, Will? I told you on day one that you might as well be your own lawyer if you’re going to keep me in the dark. So now you don’t have immunity in connection with whatever you did concerning the Abaddon murder, and you’ve lied to the FBI, which is a crime in and of itself. On top of all that, you’re now quite likely viewed as an accomplice in this guy Qin’s murder.”
Will was having difficulty meeting her eyes, like a chastised child.
“Gwen, how in the hell could you have let him walk into this type of trap?”
“She didn’t let me do anything,” Will shot back. He could see that Gwen had tears in her eyes. “It was my call. I was hoping to get immunity from being an accessory to Sam’s murder. Then, once I told Eve that Sam’s murder case was closed, she would no longer have the threat of pinning it on me. She would let me go. I’m sorry to have lied to you, but if I’d played it any other way, Eve would have killed me. And maybe Gwen too.”
“That was a pretty fucking stupid plan,” Jessica said. “So now let’s fix it.”
46.
The new plan was dictated by the FBI. It was simple enough. To avoid a lengthy prison sentence, not to mention Eve’s making good on her threats, Will needed to get Eve to admit she had killed Qin. With that, Yoo and Goldberg believed that they’d have enough to get Eve to ultimately take a plea. Without Eve in charge, they were certain that the rest of the organization would disintegrate. If that happened, Will’s role in bringing it down would merit immunity, with the added incentive that he’d be able to go on with his life without constantly looking over his shoulder for someone ready to plunge a knife in his back.
His only other option, as the FBI so effectively pointed out, was to go home and wait for Eve to kill him. They now knew where to find Sam’s body, so the moment they confronted Eve with their suspicions about his death and Qin’s murder, she’d know that Will had turned and could link her to both crimes. He’d be dead within twenty-four hours.
Which was why Will was now standing in front of Eve’s apartment door, scared to death. Following the FBI’s playbook was the only chance he had to stay alive and out of prison.
“Can I come in?” Will said as soon as Eve opened the door. “I need to talk to you about something. It shouldn’t take very long.”
He could feel the recording device on his chest. It seemed almost as if it were fighting against his heart.
They made their way into Eve’s living room. Will sat on the sofa, Eve in the chair opposite him. If she knew what he’d come to share, she didn’t show it.
“What’s on your mind, Will?”
“The other day with Qin . . . That was more than I bargained for in any of this. You told me that I’d only be doing financial things. I don’t want to be part of any more murders.”
Eve did not visibly react. Not a twitch or a blink. The silence between them lasted a good ten seconds, during which time Eve never took her eyes off him. Her stare was so intense that Will was forced to look away, only to see that Eve had not wavered when he resumed eye contact.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Will,” Eve finally said. “Who is this Qin person? And what on earth do you mean by murder?”
The look in her eyes contradicted her words. They were like lasers, piercing through Will.
She wasn’t confused at all.
Eve knew he was wearing a wire.
Will looked to the door. It was less than fifteen feet away, but he’d never make it there if Eve wanted to stop him.
He turned back to Eve, fully expecting her to brandish a weapon. But she didn’t.
Instead, she stood and said, “I think you should leave now.”
Will followed her to the front door. As he exited, he looked back at Eve and saw an expression that confirmed without any doubt that he was now a dead man.
A black van was parked around the corner, waiting for him. It was outfitted just like the ones he’d seen on television: electronic equipment on all sides.
“Now what?” Will said when he climbed into the back.
Yoo removed his headset and ran his hand through his hair. “That was fucked. She knew you were wired.”
“How?”
“No idea. Some people have a very refined survival instinct. Or maybe it’s as simple as her having you under surveillance, so she knew where you’d spent your morning.”
“Then why didn’t she kill me?”
“With us listening in? She’s too smart for that.”
When they were back at the US Attorney’s Office, Will was reunited with Jessica and Gwen, who had been waiting for his return. From the look on her face, Gwen knew the plan had failed before anyone said anything.
“We need to regroup on our end,” Yoo said. “Will can fill you in on the shit show we were just part of.”
When Yoo cleared out of the room, Will said, “Eve knew I was wearing a wire. She claimed she had no idea who Jian-Ying Qin was, and then told me to leave. The look in her eyes, though. She’s going to kill me. First chance she gets.”
“I’ve been talking to Howard about what the next step is if it played out this way,” Jessica said.
“And?” Will asked.
“I’ve asked for witness protection. No guarantees, but he said that it was definitely a possibility. Provided, of course, you’re willing to testify against Eve on this Qin murder.”
“How does witness protection work?” Will asked, although he already knew the most important part: he’d never see Gwen again.
“There are a lot of steps to it, actually,” Jessica said. “It’s not like in the movies, where tomorrow you’re living under a different name. They need to do a thorough psychiatric evaluation. There’s a lie detector test. While that’s going on, they put you in a safe house. But the one part that the movies get right is that you’re cut off from contact with anyone from your former life.”
“Including me?” Gwen asked.
“I would think especially you, Gwen. If Eve thought that she could get to Will through you, that would put you at risk.”
“Is it forever?” Will asked.
“It should be, if you want to stay safe. But it’s really up to you. It’s not prison. You can leave it whenever you want. Subject, of course, to the same risks that made you go into it in the first place.”
No one said anything for a good twenty seconds. Jessica was watching Will and Gwen. She seemed to intuit what they were not saying.
“This is not a very difficult call, Will,” Jessica finally said. “Not really. Eve now knows that you’re cooperating with the FBI. There’s no way she’s going to let you live. And I know that you don’t want to leave Gwen, and I’m assuming, Gwen, that the feeling is mutual. But allow me to inject a little bit of earned wisdom that comes with age. Life isn’t Romeo and Juliet. I don’t doubt that you two love each other, but believe me on this: given time, you’ll both find happiness with other people. So much so that I guarantee that you’ll look back on this moment and wonder how you could ever have considered sacrificing your life for a person who . . . you can’t even remember exactly what they look like anymore.”
“Can we at least say goodbye?” Gwen asked.
“Of course,” Jessica said. “Let me give you two the room. Come on out when you’re ready.”
As soon as they were alone, Gwen embraced Will tightly, and then she began to cry. At first slowly, as if she could hold back the emotion welling inside of her, and then with abandon, recognizing the futility of the endeavor. Will was left with no choice but to hold it together. He didn’t want her last memory of him to be of someone bereft.
As he held her, her tears spilled onto his shirt and her hands dug into his back. He lost himself in the embrace, wishing that his life would end
right there, because he could not fathom ever being happy again.
“I’m so sorry, Gwen,” he said into her ear.
“Promise me that we will see each other again,” she said. “That somehow you’ll tell me where you’re moved, and I’ll be able to get to you.”
“If I can, I will,” he said.
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
47.
It had been three days since Gwen and Will had said their goodbyes. Three days after she had made Will promise not to lose hope. Three days after she had sworn to him that they would see each other again.
They had been the worst three days of her life. The kind of days that Gwen couldn’t imagine enduring much longer.
She left her building at midnight. The moment she ventured outside, she was careful to scan the street in every direction. There was no sign of anyone watching. Not that she’d necessarily know if they were, of course. She assumed that if Eve had her under surveillance, it would be at a distance.
Even at that late hour, the number 6 train at Thirty-Third and Park was still relatively crowded. She allowed two trains to pass without boarding as a way of making sure that no one was on the platform solely to follow her. Then she boarded the downtown train, getting off at the City Hall stop.
She walked into the Oculus—a post-9/11 structure that resembled a bird with outstretched wings. It too was crowded. This time Gwen would have preferred having fewer people around, so she could make quick judgments about whether anyone posed a threat. She moved quickly through the space, leaving most of the tourists when she entered the entrance to the PATH train—the rail connector to New Jersey.
Like with the subway, she let the first PATH train go and waited on the platform alone for the next one. It arrived ten minutes later. It took another ten minutes to reach her intended stop in Jersey City, but she stayed put when the doors opened, traveling all the way to the end of the line at Newark. New passengers boarded for the trip back to Manhattan, and Gwen traveled with them. On her second pass, she got off in Jersey City.
Once aboveground, Gwen again surveyed her surroundings. There was no one in sight; she quickly strode toward the large apartment complex on the corner of Marin Boulevard and Eighth Street.
As she entered the building, Gwen once again looked in every direction. All clear.
Or at least she thought it was.
Two hours later, Gwen reversed course. This time there was no need for subterfuge. Whereas her initial trip had taken ninety minutes, returning home took less than half that.
It was slightly after 4:00 a.m. when she arrived back at her building. At that late hour, the streets were empty, which made the ten-minute walk back to her apartment building particularly nerve-racking. With each step, she heard the sound of her own heartbeat. She tried to block out the thumping so she might hear if someone else was approaching. But no one else materialized. She entered her lobby and hurried up to her apartment.
She couldn’t sleep, however. So she lay in bed, restless.
She was uncertain how much time had elapsed, but it occurred so suddenly that she didn’t even have time to scream. A large man was upon her, his beefy hand over her mouth.
Eve stood beside him. The man removed his hand from her mouth but kept his other hand firmly on the back of Gwen’s neck. The deterrent was unnecessary, however. Gwen was not going to scream.
All it took was a subtle nod from Eve for the man to punch Gwen in the face. The pain was excruciating, like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Her first reaction was to wonder if she still had all of her teeth, and she was surprised when her tongue alerted her to the fact that she did.
“We saw you go to Jersey City,” Eve said. “We know you can get a message to him. So you tell him that if he testifies, you’re dead. I told him before that if I ever couldn’t find him, I’d kill you. You need to remind him of that.”
Gwen was crying now, but trying to regain her wits. Forcing herself to ignore the throbbing in her jaw, to focus. She extended her hand under her pillow and grasped the cold steel she’d hidden there.
In a single motion, she withdrew the gun, pointed it at the man who held her neck, and pulled the trigger. She had been aiming for his chest, but the bullet struck dead center of his forehead. He fell back immediately, shaking the bed as he hit the floor.
It was now just the two of them. Eve was already reaching into her bag, but Gwen didn’t hesitate.
She fired twice. The first shot went into Eve’s torso, the second through her neck.
All that time playing Call of Duty hadn’t been a waste after all.
Jasper Toolan had been right. You don’t know if you’re capable of taking a life until the situation is thrust upon you.
Gwen was quite certain that her killings would be ruled justified. She also knew that hers was as premeditated a murder as Toolan’s.
She had no idea where Will was being held. The FBI had been crystal clear about not revealing that information and about denying Will any means to contact her. Of course, Eve wouldn’t have known that.
So Gwen had engaged in her subterfuge of making it seem as if she knew how to get to Will, suspecting that Eve was watching. And when the ruse was done, she waited with the Glock, which she had secured courtesy of her ex-client Jasper Toolan, under her pillow.
Agents Benevacz and Ramirez found Gwen sitting in the living room. It hadn’t taken very long for them to arrive, less than half an hour from her call, but she had rehearsed several times what she was going to say. It had the benefit of being the truth. Well, mostly.
“I got a gun because I was scared,” she said. “I kept it under my pillow, and they just broke in. It happened so fast that I couldn’t even reach for it until the guy had already hit me. I didn’t want to shoot Eve, but she was reaching for a gun.”
There was indeed a gun in Eve’s handbag. Gwen had checked before she called the police.
She had also deliberately decided not to ice her jaw, so the FBI would see her wounds in all their glory. Being struck had not been part of the plan, although she realized it was fortuitous, buttressing her claim of self-defense.
Benevacz and Ramirez listened attentively to Gwen’s narrative. She told them she got the gun on the dark web. Although there might have been some justice in putting Toolan in harm’s way, he had done her a favor in securing it, so there was no reason to involve him.
The possession of an unlicensed firearm was illegal in New York City. Technically, as a first-time offender, Gwen could receive up to two years in prison. As a practical matter, however, she was confident that the steepest penalty she would face was the payment of a fine. If that. After all, how could anyone punish her for protecting herself, especially when her fears turned out to be well founded? Had she waited the required period to obtain a gun lawfully, she’d be dead.
“We think you should see a doctor about your jaw,” Ramirez said. “It may be broken. And we’re going to need to discuss with the DA about the gun charge, so you should put on some clothing and let us take you to the precinct.”
Gwen nodded, and then winced from the pain in her jaw. “Can I call my lawyer to meet me down there?”
“Sure,” Benevacz said.
Gwen reached for her cell phone. She had Jessica Shacter’s number on speed dial.
48.
Will’s safe house was in Queens. A one-bedroom apartment in the back of a low-rise apartment complex near JFK Airport. It was clean, but the decor was at least thirty years old. Will couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen a non-flat-screen TV.
Since his arrival, he’d been completely cut off from the world around him. The agents had taken away his phone and not allowed him to have access to a computer or to even leave the apartment. Two heavily armed guards sat in the living room at all times.
The knock was coded. Three quick raps, followed by two slower ones. Still, the guards always unholstered their weapons before opening the door.
It was Agent Be
nevacz, but he was not alone. Beside him was Gwen.
She rushed forward and into Will’s arms. It almost seemed like a dream to him, but the scent of her hair was not something he could conjure with his mind alone. She was actually there, in the flesh.
Agent Benevacz offered the explanation. “We figured that we could save the taxpayers a little money by protecting Gwen here with you. Assuming neither of you objects, of course.”
Will took a step back. To Gwen he said, “I don’t understand.”
Gwen looked over her shoulder at Benevacz. “Be my guest,” he said.
“Eve’s dead,” she said. “She broke into my apartment last night. She thought I knew where you were. And I shot her.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. A little shaken, and my jaw hurts. The guy with her hit me pretty good. But all in all, I’m fine. And it’s all over now.”
The logistics were all worked out by the FBI. Gwen’s family was told that she was safe. She resigned from Taylor Beckett, and the FBI explained to Benjamin Ethan that Gwen had been instrumental in convincing her boyfriend to cooperate with them, and through that cooperation they had dismantled one of the largest organizations responsible for financing worldwide terrorism.
Ethan had asked for them to relay back that he was proud of her, and that there would always be a job for her at Taylor Beckett if she wanted it. When Gwen heard the news, she laughed. The last place she ever wanted to be again was at Taylor Beckett. She had already decided that if she was going to practice law again, it would truly be on the side of the angels.
The FBI confiscated Will’s apartment—as well as his possessions—and sold them all at auction. The proceeds were used to pay off Maeve Grant’s loan, part of the negotiated deal Jessica had struck. It was the least the government could do, she’d argued, considering Gwen had nearly been killed.
Gwen and Will were transported to Arizona and kept under lock and key there. Gwen likened it to a honeymoon, and Will agreed. They wouldn’t have wanted to leave the hotel even if they were in Hawaii or Bora Bora.
