“My . . . chair . . . .” He stared at Neev for a long moment. He blinked and then whispered, “Niamh?”
She nodded.
“Is it over?” Jack asked. “Can we go home now?”
Neev jumped from her chair. He caught her in an embrace. Together, they wept and laughed. Neev turned away and looked at the Mister.
“I did this,” she said.
“I thought as much,” the Mister said.
FFFFFF
Two days later
Wednesday evening
December 22 – 6:26 p.m. MST
Between Afghanistan and Denver
“What?” Patrick laughed. “Neev did it?”
Patrick and Alex were sitting around a small table near the windows of the jet. Alex’s right arm rested in a sling. The babies were asleep on biliblankets in their crib near the wall. Max was sleeping on the couch near the bedroom. John and Colin were playing video games. Wyatt and Joseph were reading novels in a sitting area near the front. Leena and Margaret were watching a romantic comedy with Rebecca. Matthew was napping on a couch mid-plane while Trece, Zack, and Cliff were playing poker nearby. Raz was asleep in the bedroom in the tail of the plane.
“They threatened Jack,” Alex lifted her shoulders in a painful shrug. “Rather than risk losing him, she programmed him to forget his life and shipped him off with his coats and blankets to Afghanistan. All he had to do was keep himself alive. She implanted a trigger for him to wake up.”
“Jackie Mac Kinney, you’re not running out on me now,” Patrick nodded.
“Right,” Alex said. “Unfortunately, once he was gone, they told her they’d thwarted her plan and taken him anyway. The finger and ear cemented the deal. To make matters worse, they snatched her.”
“What?” Patrick asked. “How?”
“Right,” Alex said. “Her scans show that she was subjected to long bouts of electric shock.”
“To forget,” Patrick said.
“Exactly,” Alex said. “We think that in her mind, she was protecting him. She probably thought that her skills and training would help her withstand the treatment.”
“No one can,” Patrick said. “Look at poor Steve.”
“Exactly,” Alex said. “What happens to him? Neev? For that matter, Sami and Wyatt?”
“The question is one of who is pressing charges. Raz refused to name the person who hit him; he said he might have very easily slipped on the ice. Max told the Denver Police that he’d had a heart attack on the toilet just like Elvis. There’s enough evidence to show that Max has needed a new valve for a while, and the pacemaker for at least ten years. That leaves only you, Alex. The last story I heard was that you had been drinking all night when you decided to practice throwing knives. Awfully clumsy of you.”
“I suck,” Alex nodded.
“Are you going to press charges against Steve?” Patrick asked.
“Never,” Alex said. “I’m going to exact my revenge on the mat.”
Patrick laughed at her use of one of Steve’s favorite sayings. She smiled.
“As for Neev . . . ,” Patrick shrugged. “Technically, she didn’t cause anyone physical harm. The Mister doesn’t exist, so he doesn’t count. There’s a record of a woman at the Federal Medical Center at Carswell, but . . .”
Patrick shrugged.
“She’s going to be your house guest this Christmas,” Patrick said. “Along with all of their children, grandchildren, and everything else.”
“It’s going to be a full house,” Alex said. “The Fey wives and their kids are coming again.”
“Your mother’s planning to have everyone over for Christmas Eve,” Patrick said.
“Where will Neev go after Christmas?” Alex asked.
“Wherever she can get the best treatment,” Patrick said.
“You mean she’s staying at our house,” Alex said.
“Most likely,” Patrick smiled.
“The more, the merrier,” Alex said. “I think Steve is staying with us. Fong and Ji are coming after the new year.”
“Is that all right with you?” Patrick asked.
“We’re talking about the man who took me to the hospital when Max had his first surgery,” Alex said. “He was tortured for God knows how long and somehow managed not to kill me. As far as I’m concerned, he can do whatever he wants.”
Patrick smiled at her.
“Before you ask, Felicia is staying in Nazo and Farooq’s apartment in Kabul until she can wrap up her life there,” Alex said.
“She needs to immigrate through the right channels,” Patrick said.
“Or get on the watch list,” Alex said. “Right.”
“Will she stay with you, too?” Patrick asked.
“I think we’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Alex said. “Right now, she needs time to sort out her life, grieve, and start to move on. Although, knowing Felicia, she may make it to Christmas at our house.”
Patrick laughed. Alex smiled.
“And the knife?” Patrick asked.
“The tip was made out of lead,” Alex said. “John was right. It was causing my anemia.”
“You seem stronger,” Patrick said. “They got it out?”
“They think so,” Alex shrugged. “I’m on this cleansing diet to detox from the heavy metals. If I survive the diet, I should be fine.”
Patrick smiled and looked away from her. When he looked back, he was all business.
“You asked me some questions recently,” Patrick said. “We’ve answered most of them.”
“Oh?” Alex turned her full attention to him. “What did you find out?”
“Let’s start with ‘Why the fall?’” Patrick said. “I think you know the answer to that.”
“The fall is not opium season in Afghanistan,” Alex said.
“That’s the best reason we’ve come up with,” Patrick said.
“We know why they took Steve,” Alex said.
“Because he could get close enough to kill you,” Patrick nodded.
“Did he expect the mind control subjects to complete their missions?”
“It seems now that he intended to piggyback on people’s past experiences with mind control to manifest new missions,” Patrick said.
“Like Wyatt and Sami,” Alex said.
“Correct,” Patrick said. “The rest of the survivors seem stable. My team is working with them to make them less vulnerable to reprogramming. I think that’s the key.”
Alex nodded.
“Eoin and the Mister are coming up with a program,” Patrick said. “I’m sure Neev will help when she’s feeling better.”
“MK-Ultra cover-up?” Alex asked.
“No word,” Patrick said. “And honestly, I doubt we’ll ever know. A lot of those involved are dead and took their secrets with them. As you know, most of the Operation Paperclips have died.”
“Hmm,” Alex said.
“What?” Patrick asked.
“You know, the CIA operative at Nasaji Bagrami managed to tuck a note in my sling when he ran into me.”
“Oh yeah?” Patrick asked.
“He said that Buffy Joiner is the granddaughter of Josef Yakovlev,” Alex said.
“Which confirms the photo Raz found,” Patrick said.
“Guess who her brother is?” Alex asked.
Patrick shook his head.
“Robert Powell,” Alex said. “Of course, Robert Powell isn’t his real name. He was born Robert Yakovlev. He changed his name to Powell around the time Buffy and Cee Cee got married. Officially, Josef Yakovlev’s had no genetic heirs.”
“You’re sure?” Patrick asked.
“MI-6 is doing the DNA analysis as we speak,” Alex said. “The operative said that together they run Yakovlev’s organization – Buffy from San Antonio, and Robert from his English prison cell. So you see, the Paperclips maybe dead, but their legacy lives on.”
“You think they’re involved in all of this?” Patrick asked.
“I
think this Josef Yakovlev is the center of this,” Alex said. “Buffy, the Boy Scout, and whoever they’ve recruited are involved somehow. We don’t know how they’re involved, but they were involved in killing the Fey Special Forces Team, and they are involved in this.”
“Why?” Patrick asked.
“Why did they kill everyone?” Alex asked. “No idea.”
“What’s their objective?” Patrick asked.
“Power and control; forcing people do to their bidding,” Alex said.
“Watch the world burn,” Patrick shook his head.
“Right,” Alex said. “That’s the endgame, I think. Any ideas about Ludlum?”
“None,” Patrick said. “Theories range from his wife lit him on fire or, at the very least, didn’t put the fire out, to he was a smoker and an alcoholic who lit himself on fire and was too loaded to get up. No one knows anything else.”
“It could be anything,” Alex said.
“The simplest solution is most likely the truth,” Patrick said.
“There’s nothing simple about any of this,” Alex said.
Patrick nodded.
“I did find out that the photos of the girls and boys from LA were shredded and burned with Hoover’s files,” Patrick said.
“Hoover?” Alex asked. “How did he get in the middle of this?”
“Think about it,” Patrick said. “The photographs were used to manipulate influential men. It reeks of Hoover.”
“Who burned them?” Alex asked.
“Most likely his long time secretary, Helen Gandy,” Patrick said.
“That was 1972,” Alex said. “Some of the girls remember being ‘visited’ again as late as 1975.”
“We think that was a cleanup job done by Clarence Kelley after he found Hoover’s files in 1975,” Patrick said. “Of course, the FBI destroyed most of those in 1977 under their ‘Sexual Deviance’ program.”
“It doesn’t really make any sense,” Alex said.
“Everyone involved at the time is dead,” Patrick shrugged.
“Except the children who were prostituted by our government to manipulate world leaders,” Alex said.
“There is that,” Patrick said. “I think the key thing to keep in mind is that the photos have been destroyed, the people involved are getting the help they need, and we’ve shut down an overlooked liability to US security. That’s good work. You should be proud of yourself. I am.”
“Your team did a lot of the heavy lifting,” Alex said. “Is it nice?”
“To be doing this work again?” Patrick asked. “Let me put it to you this way, it’s more comfortable than trying to negotiate with corrupt politicians.”
Alex smiled.
“You know what the nicest thing is?” Patrick asked.
“No,” Alex said.
“To see you with the babies,” Patrick said. “I thought you were going to completely lose it when Dr. Roy performed your boy’s khitan. Of course, Rasmussen looked like he was going to throw up. The more clinical John got, the greener Raz became.”
“You should talk,” Alex laughed.
Patrick smiled.
“Those kids are cute,” Patrick said. “What were their names?”
“Mohamed Ali Sher – we call him Sher – and his wife, Khudija,” Alex said. “They were so helpful at setting everything up.”
“Nice people,” Patrick said.
He nodded to the front of the plane. Alex turned to see the movie had ended, and her mother was coming in their direction.
“The babies are pretty great, aren’t they?” Alex smiled. “Thanks for coming for the khitan and their baptism.”
“Thanks for letting me do the head shaving,” Patrick said.
“You are the patriarch of the clan,” Alex said.
“Who did you donate the money to?” Patrick said.
“The weight of the children’s hair in silver?” Alex asked. “Save the Children for their Afghanistan campaign.”
Patrick nodded.
“We’re having a lamb roast tomorrow,” Alex said. “Turns out Islam and the Irish have lamb in common.”
Rebecca leaned over and kissed Patrick.
“How was the movie?” Patrick asked.
Rebecca gave a happy sigh. Alex rolled her eyes behind her back. Patrick smiled. Rebecca moved to check on the babies.
“Islam and Catholicism,” Patrick said.
“Like Joseph’s raising his Alex,” she said. “We’ll give them both and teach them to respect all religions. It will be up to them what they choose.”
“Any idea on names?” Patrick asked.
“We’ve only just decided to give them their parents’ names as middle names,” Alex smiled. “We . . . No, it’s very fast and . . . wonderful.”
Patrick smiled.
“Just so you know, we haven’t figured out why you and why your team,” Patrick said. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Alex shrugged. “With any luck, we’ll know someday.”
Patrick nodded.
“Alex!” Rebecca said. “They’re awake. You know you should never . . .”
Alex squinted in irritation before getting up to take care of her children.
F
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Two days later
Friday night, Christmas Eve
December 24 – 11:35 p.m. MST
Denver, CO
Alex opened the door to their bedroom and smiled at what she saw. John had gone up early to read in bed, but clearly the trip had ulterior motives. He was fast asleep with the babies in the center of the bed. He wore a pair of pajamas that matched the babies’ onesies. The babies wore caps about the color of his dark curly hair. As if they were her puppies, Maggie was wrapped around the twins. They were so adorable; Alex stood in the doorway to watch them for a while.
Alex reached over Maggie to scoop up the girl with her left hand. The baby screeched, and John woke with a start.
“Now you see my difficulty,” John said.
Alex set her daughter down and climbed onto the bed. Maggie yawned and moved over.
“I brought them here for a little snuggle time while I read,” John said. “And then, we were trapped.”
“By the bed?” Alex grinned at him.
“By my inability to let them go,” John said.
“Or carry them together,” Alex said.
“I had to wrestle with Samantha to get them up here,” John said.
She smiled.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m just glad she and Raz are . . . talking,” Alex said.
“Talking is good,” John smiled.
“Come on, you know we’ve been warned about this,” Alex said. “We need to move the babies.”
“Suffocation and all,” John nodded.
John picked up his baby girl and set her in Alex’s left arm. He picked up the boy. They whimpered, but didn’t wake. She checked her girl’s diaper and kissed her forehead before setting her on her biliblanket next to her brother in the crib.
“Tell me the truth,” John said. “You love our girl more.”
“No,” Alex said. “She’s smaller, and I worry about her more.”
John held his arms out and she walked into them. They leaned against each other in exhausted bliss.
“Are you . . . ?” he started at the same time she said, “What . . . ?”
They laughed.
“Tired,” she said. “Sorry. I was looking forward to our usual romp.”
“I was, as well,” he said. “This parenting thing is putting a crimp in our lovemaking.”
She smiled.
“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t care a bit.”
She laughed.
“Are you really okay with . . . ?” Alex asked.
“Please don’t ask me again,” John said. “I learned a long time ago that as long as I have you, the details of everything else are much, much less important. Our children are truly a dream come true for me. Th
ank you for them.”
“What about controlling everything?” Alex asked.
“What haven’t I controlled?” John smiled.
“Getting the babies,” she said.
“After that,” he said.
“Ahh.”
She leaned against him. He kissed her forehead.
“Did you dream up a name for them?” Alex asked.
“No,” he said. “You?”
“No,” Alex said.
They laughed.
“We need to rest,” he said. “Tomorrow is our babies’ first Christmas.”
He stripped off his pajamas and got into bed. She went in the bathroom. When she came out, he was sound asleep with Maggie tucked up close to him. She went to the babies’ crib to look at them one last time before going to bed.
Standing in the dark, she remembered that her mother had given her some parenting book before they left the Christmas Eve party that night. If she remembered, she’d look at it tomorrow. She took off her ever-present sling, slipped off her clothes, and got in bed.
She closed her eyes and lay in the dark under the warm covers.
Something inside nagged at her.
Her head hammered with pain. A forgotten memory was trying to make her look at her mother’s stupid book.
Jesse hovered nearby.
She got out of bed and grabbed a fleece sweater. She wiggled into the fleece without her sling before taking the book from her bag. Sitting in the stuffed green chair next to the babies’ crib, she clicked on the soft reading light. John didn’t awaken.
Her fingers automatically opened the book. She glanced at Jesse, and he nodded.
She looked down. Shocked, she looked up to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. She was still sitting in her bedroom, next to her babies, while her husband and dog slept.
This was no parenting book.
She was holding Josef Yakovlev’s first printing of The Gadfly.
She was holding the original printing of The Gadfly that Cooper’s father had borrowed.
The fuchsia sticky note stuck on the front read:
I heard you and your father talking about this book on the plane and remembered I had a copy. Love, Mom
Alex flipped through the book. The title pages and margins were annotated in an older, European handwriting. A second person had written detailed notes in a small, tight military hand on the last four pages. Unable to take in what she saw, she looked up at Jesse.
In the Grey Page 42
