Triumph (The Bellator Saga Book 6)

by Cecilia London

  “You do, sir.” Schroeder spoke from the far end of the table. Funny. Jack had forgotten he was there. His entire cadre of advisors was in the room, but his intellectual and emotional focus had remained on Caroline for the duration of the meeting.

  “No,” Jack said. “All of you are in this room because I trust you and your judgment. You know what my decision would be. I suspect I know what yours would be as well, if based solely on emotion. But Caroline is right. We’re not dealing with just one person. This is much, much bigger.”

  Flaherty leaned forward. “Sir, I don’t-”

  Fuck. It was worse than he thought if Keith was observing formalities. “Forget you know her,” Jack said. “Forget you know me. Forget you like us. What would you do?”

  “I’d send her in,” he said.

  Jack still had veto power. And he was still inclined to say no. But he wanted to have all the information before he made a decision. Before Caroline did. “I don’t care what it takes, I don’t care who’s involved. I’ll do whatever I need to do to protect her. Let’s figure out a way to keep her alive until we can get in there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Thanks for fitting me in,” Jack said. “The girls will be here in a few minutes.”

  “A therapy session without Caroline?” Natalie asked. “What gives?”

  “We had a meeting today. Heavy intel. Decisions were made.” God help him, he felt guilty enough about what he had to tell Natalie. He felt even worse she wasn’t at the meeting to begin with. “We have a way to end this.”

  He gave her the rundown on Santos, the discussion between him and his advisors, Caroline and Christine’s reactions. Natalie didn’t say much, just closed her eyes once or twice.

  “Seems pretty straightforward to me,” she said. “Why’d you need to talk?”

  “Is it that straightforward? Because it seems a little fucked up to me.”

  She smiled grimly. “Straightforward and fucked up are not mutually exclusive.”

  The doctor didn’t know the half of it. “We’ve got a way to get her out. A good one, I think. I trust Caroline to keep her head if she’s sent in. I trust our men on the inside. I trust the rescue squad to get her. I just-”

  “Don’t trust Santos?”

  “Of course not. I don’t trust reality, either.”

  “Nor should you. Do you have contingency plans, backups, that sort of thing? If something goes wrong are your men ready to do whatever it takes to achieve the primary goal?”

  Are they willing to blast through countless other people to get to my wife? “Yes,” he said. “They know what they need to do. The alternative is too awful to imagine.”

  “Have you considered sending a small battalion without transferring Caroline into governmental custody?”

  Was she playing devil’s advocate or trying to talk him out of the plan? He couldn’t tell. She seemed to understand it, seemed to find it rational. But there was something missing. “We have. We believe if we were to do that, Santos would react irrationally.”

  “He’ll react irrationally to Caroline as well.”

  “I know.”

  “But there’s a difference,” Natalie said. “The man is deranged. Santos shouldn’t be allowed access to a Twitter account or a combination lock, let alone the Oval Office. Narcissists are more malleable than you think. He’s easily distracted by shiny things.”

  “And Caroline is his shiny thing?”

  “For reasons inexplicable to anyone capable of logical and reasonable thought, yes.”

  Jack rubbed his forehead. “I’m terrified this won’t work. Maybe we should go in and blast the place.”

  “Then you’d run the risk of Santos causing a nuclear winter. In this scenario you have a decent chance of getting the vast majority of Americans, and the rest of the world, out alive.”

  “What if he’s bringing her there just to witness the destruction of the world?”

  “I don’t think that’s on the table,” Natalie said. “You have to think like a sociopath here.”

  “I’d prefer not.”

  “Okay.” She cracked her knuckles. “I’ll entertain your scenario. But first I’m going to give you my personal analysis of President Santos. He thinks he’s more important than he is. He fantasizes about power and success. He manipulates others to get what he wants. He’s envious of others while at the same time believing that others envy him. He has no empathy. He is arrogant. He seeks admiration. He expects everyone to bow to him and his requests.”

  “Sounds like a typical politician,” Jack said.

  “It’s more complicated than that. Politicians are insecure, have large egos, and yes, are often magnetic and dynamic enough to bend others to their point of view. Santos is an example of when those traits cross over into narcissistic personality disorder.”

  “Is that a formal diagnosis?”

  “As formal as I can get without meeting the man personally, which I really don’t want to do. Let’s return to your hypothetical. Santos wants Caroline in the White House so he can blow up the world, including her. He has the codes ready to launch and wants her to push the button or something ridiculous. So he’s doing all of this out of his hatred for her-”

  “And his desire to resist arrest for crimes against humanity,” Jack added.

  “We’ll get to that. Remember the symptoms I just described. Yes, he’s disturbed. Yes, he shouldn’t be allowed access to heavy weaponry. But when someone or something gets him riled up, he’s not thinking of the big picture, of the scads of resources available to him. He’s focusing on why that one person or topic irks him so. Why can’t he get her, or them, or us, to understand that what he’s doing is best? It drives him insane that there are some people out there who disagree with him because in his mind, all of his policies are fundamentally sound and fair. He’d rather spend hours trying to get those people to see the light, so to speak.”

  “But he wants to kill her.”

  “He does. There’s no denying that. But think about why he wants her to die. That’s your secret weapon. His ego. His self-centeredness. His inability to see beyond his own nose. He’s not going to have those nuclear codes at the ready because he’s going to be thinking of fifty different ways to make Caroline suffer.”

  That wasn’t really the angle Jack cared to use. “Can we find another way to phrase that?”

  Natalie patted his shoulder. “He’s going to be so distracted that she can drive him nuts simply by failing to acquiesce.”

  “I suspect she may be able to do that. Rather well.”

  “I agree. I want you to consider something else. Santos doesn’t understand self-sacrifice. Of doing something without expecting anything in return. He views any sort of capitulation as weakness, not strength. For the rebellion to yield to his demands means you’re essentially giving up.”

  “But we’re not.”

  “Bullies often consider compassion and empathy to be moral infirmities. A very dangerous point of view, in my opinion. If Caroline surrenders, he may think that’s the end of it. That since she’s giving up, the rebels are abandoning the cause.”

  “That’s illogical,” Jack said.

  “You need to stop expecting unreasonable people to act reasonably. I’m telling you, I’ve got a read on this guy. You do too, otherwise you wouldn’t be telling me about this plan.”

  “You think it’ll work?”

  “Hell if I know. I’m not a craps dealer. I’m a wannabe psychiatrist. But yes, for your sanity and mine, of course it will work. Perfectly.”

  Wishful thinking with a touch of dry humor. When he heard tapping on the door, Jack stiffened. “The girls. I need you to help me explain it to them. Before Caroline does.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” Natalie opened the door. “Hi, guys.”

  Marguerite greeted her and Sophie instantly gravitated toward Jack. He returned the hug he was offered. “Hi, kiddo.”

  “What’s going on?” Marguerite asked.
>
  He’d imagined having many conversations with Caroline’s daughters; never this one. But he had to prepare them for what was to come. “We need to talk.”

  *****

  There was a chance Christine would ignore a visitor. She’d know who it was. Hopefully Sophie wasn’t with her. Caroline wasn’t quite ready to have that conversation yet. She knocked anyway. Senator Sullivan was pissed, but Chrissy was hurt. Caroline hoped she’d get Chrissy. She wasn’t sure she could handle the senator.

  Christine opened the door and didn’t say anything, motioning Caroline to sit down on the couch. She took the seat next to her, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.

  Best to lay it all out, one line and one concern in succession. “Is Natalie hiding in here? Or Mo? I can only handle one person yelling at me at a time.”

  Christine let out a short laugh. “It’s just me. Sophie is with Maggie.”

  “Well,” Caroline said. “Say it, then.”

  Christine stared at the wall. “Why does it always have to be you?”

  She often wondered the same thing. Caroline reached for her default – grim, slightly flip humor. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m the heroine in some other person’s soap opera. I hope I have my own theme song.”

  “Be serious,” Christine said, but she managed a small smile. It quickly faded. “Never mind, you don’t need to explain.”

  “I don’t?”

  “We knew it would have to end with something like this. It’s selfish of me to talk you out of it.”

  “You stomped out of the meeting.”

  “I was upset,” Christine said. “I wasn’t going to advertise my displeasure to all those men, who still don’t get it.”

  They didn’t. Not completely. “But you do,” Caroline said quietly.

  “I think I do.” Christine patted Caroline’s hand. “Doesn’t mean I care for it.”

  Doing the right thing sucked sometimes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize for standing up for what you believe in.”

  “Do you think it’s the right thing to do?”

  Christine exhaled harshly, a familiar gesture that usually meant she was frustrated with whomever had the gall to ask her a rather unnecessary question. “You want my objective opinion?”

  “Is it better than the subjective one?”

  “If it was anyone other than you, I would tell that person to do it.”

  “Fall on their sword?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I certainly hope it does not come to that. Our allies may find a way to avoid an unintended outcome.”

  Meaning, avoiding my death. “But since it’s me?”

  Christine sank down on the couch. “I don’t want you to go.”

  Caroline put her arm around her. “I know.”

  “We haven’t had nearly enough time together this time around,” she said.

  “I know that too.”

  “I need to ask you something and I want you to tell me the truth. Can you do that?”

  “I’m not sure I could lie to you, Chrissy.”

  “Do you want to die?”

  Christine had been spending far too much time with Natalie. They analyzed everything. “Never easy, are you?” Caroline asked.

  “Not usually, no.”

  “I’m not who I was six years ago, I’ll tell you that much.”

  “You’re not who you were yesterday. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “I don’t want to die.” Not anymore, she added silently.

  “Then why?”

  “I want you to live. All of you. I want America to live.” Caroline wrung her hands. “God, that sounds so lame. And cheesy. I don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

  Christine leaned her head on Caroline’s shoulder. “You know exactly what you’re talking about, and I know exactly what you mean.”

  “He’s dangerous, Chrissy. You heard Eastman. He and Flaherty basically told us that the leader of the free world is a walking time bomb.”

  “Not sure it’s so free anymore.”

  “That’s my point. Giving myself up might be the only way to end this and minimize the damage.”

  “You really think that? I’m sure we could think of a plan that doesn’t involve you as a sacrificial lamb.”

  “We could wait,” Caroline conceded. “But now we finally have a window. We never wanted full-scale war. Maybe there’s a way I can get in there, disarm someone-”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Caroline. If you’re going to do this, exercise some common sense. There is no way anyone near Santos will let you within ten feet of a weapon. They know what you’re capable of.”

  She had a point. Dammit. “We can find a way to get a weapon to someone else. Someone on the inside. Or we can mobilize our troops, sneak in, and blow the place to bits if we have to.”

  “Oh, yes. That is definitely a wise course of action.”

  “We knew it wouldn’t be easy. The damage would still be minimized.”

  “Either way you’d probably be gone,” Christine whispered.

  Caroline wouldn’t let her psyche go down that dark road. Not yet. “It’ll work out. You’ll see.”

  “Your glass isn’t exactly overflowing on this one, Punky.”

  “If I keep saying it, it’ll happen.”

  “Your optimism is…well, it’s something.” Christine stood up. “I have something I want to give you. Wait here.”

  Caroline drummed her fingernails on her leg waiting for Christine to return. It took longer than she thought it would. When Christine sat back down her eyes were red. Caroline knew better than to mention it.

  Christine placed a box in her hand. “Open it. I want to see if you know what it is.”

  A silver medal and chain lay in the box. An image of an archangel in the act of spearing a serpent, familiar to any cradle Catholic. “Saint Michael?”

  “Patron of law enforcement,” Christine said.

  “I know.”

  “And the military.”

  “I know that too, Chrissy. I did go to parochial school for nine years. Sixteen if you count college and law school.”

  Christine chuckled. “I wouldn’t. You’ve told me too much about what you did during your years at Notre Dame.”

  “Where did you get this?”

  “I had Bourgeois get it for me before we left.”

  “It’s a special Canadian medal?”

  “Straight from the Mounties to you,” Christine said.

  A touching gift. What kind of foresight did her best friend have? “How did you know I would need this?”

  “Do you really expect me to answer that question?”

  “I’m that predictable?”

  “You would never, ever ask other people to make a sacrifice greater than yours. It’s not in your DNA. If you had the ability to lay down your life so no one else would suffer, you’d do it in a heartbeat. I knew you’d need something like this, no matter what you ended up doing as this cold war went on.” She took the box out of Caroline’s hand. “To be safe, I think you should put it on now. I’m not taking any damn chances with you. Stand up.”

  Caroline lifted her hair, and Christine fastened the chain around her neck. “Sancte Michael, praesidium meum, soror bellator,” she whispered.

  Caroline tucked the medal under her shirt. “Really, Chrissy? You whip out the Latin but say French is pointless?”

  Christine kissed her cheek. “Quiet.”

  “I can’t believe you hassled me all these years when you speak a dead language.”

  “It’s not dead. It’s timeless.”

  Caroline instinctively patted her chest, feeling the medal against her skin. “I doubt this is necessary. I'm not sure I'm Catholic anymore.”

  Christine shrugged. “I am. And you're too nice to reject a gift, especially from me.”

  “Are you going to tell me what you just said?”

  “Sixteen years of Catholic education and you don’t speak the ancient tongue of Mothe
r Church?”

  Hadn’t she been paying attention? “I was born after Vatican II, as you were.”

  Christine smiled at her. “I’m not telling. You’ll just have to wonder.”

  “Can you give me a hint?”

  “No. That’s between me and Saint Michael.”

  Caroline threw her arms around her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Christine sniffed loudly. “I can’t believe you’re doing this again. You’re right. Your life is a really bad soap opera.”

  “Or a really good one,” Caroline said. “I want to win a Daytime Emmy. Think I have a chance?”

  “We are close to Hollywood.” Christine pulled away from her. “Make sure you make it out in a blaze of glory, with that solid background music you mentioned earlier.”

  Chrissy was shaky, but she’d get by. She always did. Sophie would be back soon. Caroline would need to deal with that issue later. But for now…she had to talk to Jack.

  “Will you be okay if I leave?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you lying?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to get you some booze?”

  “No,” Christine said softly. “Go home to your husband. You’ll have time for me later.”

  She absolutely would. Even if she had to make a list of all the things she had to say, she’d give Chrissy all the time she wanted. “I love you.”

  Christine gulped back a sob. “I love you too. Go. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

  If only Caroline could believe that.

  *****

  She couldn’t face the girls. Not yet. Maybe Jack would stay with her. Help her reassure them that they were making the empathetic choice. The correct one. She could whip out a decent utilitarian argument but pragmatism rarely carried the day when feelings were involved. Caroline could plan. Write things down. Say all the things she needed to say, even if she’d never run out of things to tell. They would know. They’d all know.

  With Nicky it had been so sudden. She’d been woefully unprepared for the aftermath, unaware of the many regrets she’d have. The hard lesson hadn’t taught her a damn thing. Had she said proper goodbyes to Bob? To Ellie? To Jen and Katie? Was such a thing even possible?