by Juno Rushdan
“Your son? What does Jackson have to do with this?”
“Daedalus got to me through Jaxi, shortly after he was diagnosed with leukemia.” She whisked away tears, the restraints on her wrists jangling. “He approached me in the hospital after the doctor told me none of the treatments were working. Daedalus pretended to be a rep from a pharmaceutical company, running trials for an experimental drug that might help. He baited me. Reeled me in.”
Sanborn recalled when her son had been diagnosed. The battery of treatments that had been tried and failed, little Jackson growing gaunt, losing his hair, the dark circles under his gentle eyes. Sanborn’s heart had gone out to her. He’d encouraged her to take time off, but she’d said that work—the mission—kept her sane, and with help from her parents, she’d manage.
To think, he had admired her strength.
“Jackson responded to the drug therapy. He was eating again and had the strength to play. Weeks later, Daedalus said the drug was close to approval and we had to go through my insurance, but it wasn’t covered. I couldn’t afford it on my own, and the idea of losing my baby was unbearable. Daedalus befriended me, listened to my frustrations. Got me to trust him. One day, he asked me to tell him about where I worked, to give him a few harmless details to get my son back in the program.”
More tears slipped and fell. She wiped them away, not once looking Sanborn in the eye—as if she couldn’t bear to.
“I wrestled with telling you I’d been approached, but my son’s life was on the line. His health started deteriorating again. I couldn’t let him die.” The waterworks went into high gear, turning into hiccupping sobs. She finally met his gaze. “Don’t you understand?”
That was just it. Sanborn did understand, better than most. During his time with the CIA—long before the Gray Box had become his fate—he had lost his son, his only child, in an Agency mission gone wrong. There was no greater agony for a parent…other than being forced to watch that beautiful creature you loved more than anything in the world wither painfully at death’s door first.
His eyes moistened at the memories. A swell of renewed grief washed away his anger, but he tamped down those murky emotions and stiffened to steel.
“How did Daedalus know you were vulnerable? How did he know to leverage your son against you?”
Amanda picked up the water from the table. The glass shook in her hands, the clinking of the restraints like weird background music. “Daedalus built his network of spies—”
“Traitors,” Sanborn corrected.
“He used a pyramid model. He recruited one, then had that person find one or two others who could be exploited. My ex—Todd, Jackson’s father—gave Daedalus my name. He was my partner at the DEA. When I suspected Todd might be dirty, he ended our relationship, even though I was pregnant. Later, he apologized for compromising me with Daedalus but said it was the only way to possibly help Jackson.”
Amanda kept talking, about how Daedalus had trained her at a facility in Montana. About how the bodies of those who refused to cooperate or who’d made mistakes were buried out there. About how Daedalus wanted to cement his foothold in the Gray Box by having a second spy.
“Did you give Daedalus any names?” Sanborn asked.
She squeezed her eyes shut as if ashamed, her face blotchy from crying. “One, but I knew it wouldn’t pan out.”
His gut tightened. “You gave him the name of someone from the Gray Box to leverage?”
Pursing her lips, she nodded.
His jaw hardened, nerves stretching thin. It wasn’t enough that Amanda had compromised her best friend in the field—dear God, how must Maddox feel?—committed treason and murder and betrayed Sanborn’s trust, but she had offered Daedalus a Gray Box name too? Someone else to be compromised and coerced and dragged into her mess?
“Who?”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked on a sob. “I never wanted to put anyone else in the position that I was in. I’m so sorry.”
The knot in his gut twisted. “Whose name did you give?” Sanborn pounded a fist on the table, rattling the glass of water.
* * *
A slow, sick misery pooled in Willow’s stomach like raw sewage she wanted to expel as she listened to Sanborn’s interrogation.
She pressed an unsteady hand to her forehead.
Nothing could be trusted. Not Amanda or the kindness she’d shown Willow. Not Gideon or the passion he made her feel. Willow couldn’t even trust her own judgment.
Gideon had stared at her in the parking lot with cold, unfathomable eyes, his face hard-set, and had spoken to her as though she were a pest to be dismissed.
She hadn’t meant for the conversation to take such a vicious turn. Talking to him seemed of the upmost importance after he avoided having any contact with her on the plane. She’d only wanted to reassure him that everything was still the same between them.
But it wasn’t.
We don’t fit.
She’d expected the words to leave his mouth, had braced to hear them. But she had been unprepared for the startling pain, the scathing embarrassment.
Her throat closed again, choking her as though someone had shoveled sand down her esophagus. She’d asked for the truth, and he’d given it to her. She pinched the back of her hand, chewing the inside of her lip—bit down hard on the sensitive flesh until copper hit her tongue.
Standing in the observation room with Maddox and Daniel behind the one-way glass was the only thing forcing Willow to hold herself together.
“I’m sorry.” Amanda’s voice cracked on a sob. “I never wanted to put anyone else in the position that I was in. I’m so sorry.”
“Whose name did you give?” Sanborn pounded a fist on the table, rattling the glass of water.
Amanda raised her head slowly as though it weighed a hundred pounds. “Alistair Allen.”
Sanborn’s face contorted into a look of rage, and he hurled the water against the wall, shattering the glass. It sounded like a soul detonating.
The true nature of Alistair’s circumstances was close-held. Everyone thought he’d been cast into exile from MI6, but in truth, British Intelligence presumed he was dead. The only reason Willow knew was because Sanborn had asked her to help clean up Alistair’s digital footprint and discreetly move some of his assets. Any news that he was alive and well leaking out would spell big trouble in their little world of politics, espionage, and death.
“Amanda would’ve sold out any of us,” Daniel said. “God, I can’t believe she tried to kill you, Willow.” He paced, shaking his head. “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about your Pandora program. Amanda said if I pitched in, wrote an assessment, she’d give me additional responsibilities. She even encouraged me to follow my gut, to keep digging into your financials after Sanborn told me not to. Congratulated me on finding the deed to that villa in France. I’m such an idiot for letting her use me like that.”
“It’s not your fault,” Willow said. “She used all of us.”
Amanda was a ruthless manipulator who’d pulled everyone’s strings.
“I hope Sanborn sends her to the Hole,” Daniel said. “She deserves to be in a supermax and never see the light of day again.”
The Hole was a classified supermax prison. Hell on earth in a cement box. The worst threats to national security went in and didn’t come out.
“Everything Amanda did was to save Jackson,” Maddox said in a low voice. “An innocent little boy.”
“How can you defend her after what she did to you?” Daniel asked. “To Willow? To all of us?”
Sanborn shook his head in the other room, stark disappointment clear on his face. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“I didn’t want to do any of it,” Amanda said, her eyes swollen from crying, her voice brittle. “When I needed to leave the DEA to get a fresh start, you gave that to me.
When Todd left me to have a baby by myself, all of you took me in and became my family. I care about every single person here. I’m so grateful for everything that you’ve done for me. And I love all of you. But I love my son more.”
She wiped her face with the back of her hand.
“Willow?” Amanda stared at the glass, her entire body shaking as she sobbed. “I’m sorry for taking advantage of you and for sabotaging your car.”
Willow turned her back to the one-way glass, swallowing past the tightness in her throat. She wanted to believe Amanda, but this could all be an act.
“Maddox,” Amanda said. “I understand if you hate me, but you’re still Jaxi’s godmother. Don’t punish him for what I did wrong. Please. Let my parents know I’m in trouble. Give Jaxi a hug for me.”
“Unbelievable!” Daniel threw his hands in the air. “She’s still trying to manipulate you.”
“We know about the next-generation locators you planted on Willow. Did you bring any other surveillance equipment inside the facility?” Sanborn asked.
“No,” Amanda said.
Nonetheless, they’d have to research countermeasures for the stealth technology. No tech was unbeatable.
“You fool.” Two low words from Sanborn leveled the room. “A person always has a choice. When Daedalus first approached you, if you’d come to me, I would’ve helped you. Instead, you spied on us. Committed murder. Sold out your country. Stabbed me in the back.” His voice chilled Willow’s heart. “You’re going to rot in the Hole. I’m going to make sure you have a long, long life there.”
“Yes!” Daniel cheered and clapped. “Justice.”
“That’s not justice,” Maddox said.
Amanda crumbled into convulsive tears, hiding her face in her hands. Sanborn looked ready to spit fire and incinerate her, but a quick death was too good for her.
Sanborn stormed out of the room. Maddox threw open the door and darted into the hall after him. Willow stood on the threshold.
“If they bring Daedalus in alive,” Maddox said, stopping Sanborn, “you’ll need someone who can testify against him and turn state’s evidence. And if they kill him, then Amanda might be the only one who could lead you to the other traitors in the government who worked for Daedalus. What she did was horrible. Unforgivable. But cut her a deal where she won’t go to the Hole. That way, she can still see her son.”
“You want to show her mercy after what she’s done?”
“I want mercy for Jackson. Both of his parents are going to prison. And he can’t visit her in the Hole. We could use her cooperation. Just consider it. Will you? Please.”
Sanborn cut his gaze to Willow. “You’re free to get out of here. Don’t worry about doing any reports. I’m sure you want to see your father.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Sanborn stormed away and disappeared around the corner in the direction of his office.
“Would you mind giving me a ride to the hospital?” Willow asked Maddox.
“Of course. You must be dying to see him. I can break the bad news to Amanda’s parents later.”
The weight of the last few days pressed down on Willow, everything she’d been through, everything she’d done to survive. She’d killed a man. A fact she hadn’t had time to deal with yet. Right now, she just wanted to get out of here and to the hospital. To see her dad, hold his hand.
Doc rushed down the corridor. “Is Sanborn still in the interrogation room?”
“No. Amanda confessed,” Willow said. “He just went back to his office.”
“One good thing from today.” But Doc didn’t sound or look relieved.
“What’s wrong?” Maddox asked.
Doc pushed her long hair back behind an ear with a trembling hand. “I need to get into Fort Detrick and talk to someone in charge, but they won’t let me on base.”
Daniel came into the hall. “Why Fort Detrick?”
“The weaponized smallpox was made by us. Our government.”
Willow shook her head. “President Nixon outlawed our biological weapons program.”
“It shouldn’t be possible.” Doc pressed fingers to her temple like she was trying to keep her head from exploding. “But my source at CDC headquarters swears otherwise. A government contractor has been making bioweapons and shipping them to Fort Detrick. A shipment was hijacked, and a lot more than smallpox-M was stolen.”
As if a mutated strain of smallpox wasn’t enough.
“Any idea what else was taken?” Willow asked in a low voice.
“Not for certain. That’s why I need to talk to someone at Fort Detrick. My source said there were whispers of souped-up anthrax and something called Z-1984.”
“Anything starting with a z and ending with numbers sounds bad,” Daniel said. “Not just epidemic bad but end-of-civilization bad.”
“Once Sanborn gets you access,” Maddox said, “you shouldn’t go alone. Take Ares with you.”
“Why does everyone keep trying to partner me up with Whitlock?” Doc spat his surname. “I don’t need a partner, and if I did, he’s the last person I’d choose.”
Maddox raised her eyebrows. “Okay, but going alone isn’t smart. Take someone with you. If I’m around, I’ll go.”
“Thanks.” Doc nodded. “I need to update Sanborn.” She rushed off down the hall.
Once Sanborn found out the American government was responsible for creating smallpox-M, he’d make this business with Amanda look like a Category 1 storm with a catastrophic 5 on the horizon. He’d once told Willow that he’d seen a lot of ugly things perpetrated by the government. It usually started under the umbrella of goodness, then something or someone took a vile turn. He was glad he no longer worked for the CIA and appreciated the freedom of heading up the Gray Box, where he could accept or reject any mission. There was going to be hell to pay for someone over those bioweapons.
But Willow was trapped in her own sort of tempest, and she couldn’t afford to break down. Not while her father’s and sister’s lives hung in the balance.
44
Near the Potomac River, Northern Virginia
Monday, July 8, 6:22 p.m. EDT
Geared for war, Gideon and the rest of the team stormed the side of the hill overlooking the abandoned warehouse where Daedalus was holding Willow’s sister captive. Adjacent to the Potomac River, the grassy ridge was steep and the earth muddy, but they ate up the terrain in steady strides.
Gideon flattened against the strategic crest of the hill, below the actual peak, where they had maximum visibility without advertising their position. The building was four stories high but appeared to have only two floors. The ground level had three-story-high windows and probably a thirty-foot ceiling. Two tactical helos sat on the roof. No fire escape was visible. That meant there was either one on the far north side or direct access to the roof from inside.
Peering through the Eagle Eye scope, he swept the two floors of the warehouse. Mercenaries in tactical gear crawled throughout the place. The top level was a wide-open space, similar to the bottom floor, but had office space in the far back. Gideon glimpsed a familiar face.
Omega was talking to a man in a suit who had his back to the window.
Fucking perfect. Gideon was a highly trained killing machine who persevered through pain and never hesitated to take out a target. In hand-to-hand combat, he was not only formidable but also powerful. But he’d rather have his prostate checked than go another round with Omega.
Gideon went back to scoping out the place. There were open cases of weapons laid out on the first floor—they had an arsenal—and a fleet of black SUVs was parked outside.
He noted the tail numbers of the helos and relayed them back to Janet along with the team’s status. “Also tell the chief we’re going to need eyes in the sky.”
Despite the abundance of satellites, not every swath of land
was always covered, and it was easier to part the Red Sea than redirect one of those suckers. That garbage they showed in the movies—a click of a few buttons and a satellite zooms in on any location—was just that, a crock of shit.
Sanborn would tap and reposition one of the many federal surveillance drones spying on Americans every day.
“Got it,” Janet said. “He just walked in. I’ll let him know.”
Gideon disconnected.
“Damn army down there,” Castle said, lying in a prone position.
“Pishposh.” Alistair’s cavalier tone was too light for the circumstances, but that was him, all the time. “We’ve got this in the bag. SEALs knock out stuff like this for breakfast.”
Castle nodded. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL.
“Reece, don’t you Delta Force boys live for this shit?”
“Hooah,” Reece replied, staying low to the ground.
Alistair nudged Ares with an elbow. “I know you’re a little intimidated by the vast numbers down there. Don’t worry. We’ll protect you.”
Ares chuckled—the sound sharp-edged, damn near homicidal—and flipped off Alistair.
Popping cinnamon gum in his mouth, Gideon said, “Remind me again what you’re going to do?”
“Nice to see Reaper has recovered the power of speech since we landed.” Alistair winked, then sighted through the scope of the crippler—a tympanic disruptor.
The weapon was patterned after a multiround grenade launcher, fitted with long-range scope but loaded with sonic charges that incapacitated anyone within hearing range.
A special toy courtesy of their weapons designer.
“I’m going to get this party started.” Alistair fired, launching the tympanic disruptors around the north and east sides of the building, debilitating the armed men out front. Then he targeted each level, shooting devices onto every floor.
