by Young, Mark
“Kane’s name popped up?” Gerrit asked, impatiently.
“Not at first. Once Malloy knew what to look for at your parents’ crime scene, he latched on to the evidence—particularly the videotape and crime-scene log of everyone who arrived on the scene. Several names didn’t match up. He even used facial-recognition software I helped to develop to build these leads.”
Gerrit began to feel irritated again. It seemed like his uncle was drawing out this information way beyond necessary. “So where did it lead?”
“I’m getting there,” Joe said with a twinge of frustration. “You always were impatient.” He shifted on the sofa. “Malloy ran this information through the Department of Homeland Security’s new US-VISIT program and a yet-unreleased program the CIA is using for tracking and identifying terrorists.”
“Got a hit?”
“In a way,” Joe said. “He locked on to a couple of guys who used to work for the CIA and began to run this down when he got a cease-and-desist order from the attorney general’s office.”
“Since when does the AG’s office tell the FBI what to do?”
“Malloy did some checking and learned that a power broker—a consultant with the government and a former spook himself—put pressure on his contact to shut down Malloy’s investigation.”
“Richard Kane.”
“Bingo.” Joe rose and walked to a window near the front door. He peered outside, seeming to gather his thoughts for a moment. “Richard Kane became our focus—scratch that. Became my focus. Malloy, for the time being, had to back away from investigating this case. He has been giving us back-channel help ever since.”
“So when do I meet this Beck Malloy?”
“If you are lucky—never. I think there’s a target on Malloy’s back. Anyone who goes near him will be identified and tracked. We need to stay as far away from Malloy as we can get unless it’s an extreme emergency. If he needs to communicate, he’ll find a way.”
Gerrit was done waiting. “For the last time, how did you endanger me?”
“I thought if I remained out of the picture and kept you in the dark, Kane and his people would think you were not a danger to them. But you joined the police department and started kicking over rocks about your folk’s deaths. That triggered Kane’s interest. He started to build a surveillance net around you—Marilynn Summers and others—to keep tabs on where you went with this case.”
Gerrit’s throat tightened. “So Marilynn was a plant.” Thinking back on everything, this made sense, but it still hurt. “Why did they kill her…Marilynn?”
Joe clasped his hands together. “Because she must have failed in her mission. She was the bait Kane dangled out there to get you to help them. He does not tolerate failure.”
“How long have you been keeping tabs on me?”
Alena edged closer. “Like I told you in San Francisco, we’ve been watching you for years. Ever since you moved to Seattle.”
Joe looked away from the window. “Son, I’ve been watching over you from the very moment I started looking into this mess. One way or another, you have never been out of my sight.”
Gerrit gazed at Alena. “That just leaves you. How did you and my uncle connect?”
Alena and Joe exchanged a glance before Joe spoke up. “We’ll get into all that later. Right now, we need to figure out our next move.”
Gerrit sensed the two were hesitant to bring up the past. He’d leave that alone for now. But sometime soon he’d push for answers. “So, what’s the game plan? How do we take Kane down?”
A look of relief showed on their faces. Joe tipped his head toward the window. “Let’s go outside while I give it some thought. I think Travis and Jessie have dinner plans for all of us.”
Chapter 25
Bone’s wet nose nudged Gerrit’s hand, the dog’s tail waving in the chilly mountain air. Seated at the outside table, Gerrit cut off a piece of steak from his plate and held it out on his open palm. The dog snapped it up in one gulp. Sam wedged between Bones and Gerrit, looking up expectantly.
Gerrit cut another piece for Sam.
A cold, freezing wind started to reach into the canyon as it swept off the mountain above them. Hot coals from the nearby barbeque staved off some of the chill.
Travis peered down at his dog. “Don’t turn him into a beggar, O’Rourke. Sam knows better than to beg at the table.” The others, seated round a pinewood table on the front porch, laughed as the dog tried to beg once again.
“Sorry about that, Travis, but those eyes just made me give in. And Bones…he’s always been a beggar—that’s how we met.”
Gerrit was about to take a bite when a tribal police car pulled up. Frank White Eagle had excused himself a few minutes before, riding the aerial lift across the river where the other vehicles were parked. The police chief talked to the officer in the car, then shook the driver’s hand before the officer sped off. Frank waited until the officer was out of sight before returning to their side of the river.
His uncle followed Frank’s movement, a look of concern on Joe’s face. They both waited for the chief to return. Frank’s features, wrinkled and cracked like weathered leather, were serious as he drew nearer. The wooden steps creaked as Frank climbed the stairs to the front porch.
Frank looked over at Joe. “I arranged for low-key security for your flight out of here at the Lewiston airport tomorrow morning. No questions asked.”
Joe nodded. “Thanks, Frank. Anything else?”
The chief sat before answering. “Maybe…maybe not. My office received an all-points bulletin in connection with the killings in Seattle.” He glanced at Gerrit, then back to Joe. “The FBI and DHS want to know if a person matching your name and date of birth surfaces anywhere in the Pacific Northwest. They want to interview this man as a person of interest in the killings.”
Gerrit’s stomach tightened. “They want to talk to me?”
Frank shook his head. “Not you, Gerrit. They want your uncle.”
Joe’s eyes hardened. “They want to talk to Joe Costello or Joe O’Rourke?”
“Neither. They want to talk to a Joe O’Reilly.” Frank began to fill his plate with a second helping of steak. “The photo that came with the BOLO looked just like you before you changed your looks.”
Joe seemed to relax and then began to chuckle.
Frank raised an eyebrow. “What’s this all about, Joe?”
Joe just shook his head. “That is not the FBI or DHS—this is Kane’s handiwork.”
“Why are they trying to locate you now?” Gerrit patted Sam’s head.
“Kane never gave up looking for me. He must have known I never died, although I don’t know how he found out I survived. He’s using this investigation into your death to try to flush me out.”
“How come they have the wrong information about you?”
“Well, I took that information and reversed everything about my history, right down to my date of birth. Kane never saw me face-to-face and used his data searches for identification purposes. A system I corrupted. I went into every system known to man and changed my photo. I recreated Joseph O’Rourke and became Joseph Costello. I used a face that was close, but not the same. Even my own colleagues might be confused if investigators flashed that photo in their faces.”
“Where did the name Joe O’Reilly come from?”
“Another good Irish name. Just one of my many aliases.”
“What about those clowns who dangled you off the roof in Chicago? Won’t they recognize you?”
Joe grimaced. “Malloy tracked them down before he was called off the case. Learned they were later found floating in Lake Michigan.”
“But they didn’t fail with you. They persuaded you not to cooperate with Dad.”
“Actually, Kane never knew that. All he knew was that I might have not been with your folks when they died. I disappeared. I guess those two thugs must have disappointed Kane. Or maybe he learned I had a change of heart. Again, how did he know?” His uncle jus
t shrugged.
“Where are we going tomorrow?”
Joe glanced at Alena before answering. “Let’s just finish our meal. We can talk later—after I finish washing the dishes.”
Travis and Jessie, seated across the table, looked at each other and smiled. Travis responded. “Jessie already volunteered since she loves the domestic thing.”
She dug an elbow into Travis’s ribs. “Don’t believe him, Joe. This clown knows I don’t cook or clean another man’s kitchen. He knew that from the first day I showed up here.”
Gerrit watched the two smiling at each other and felt an emptiness inside as he thought of his last night with Marilynn. Flashes of her emerging from the kitchen upon his return from Vienna, wearing an apron, a smudge of red sauce on her upper lip. Everything he and Marilynn had together had been a lie. She was a plant to keep an eye on him. To spy on his movements. To recruit him. The betrayal dug deeper into his chest. The way Travis and Jessie looked at each other, the love they seemed to share, only made his own life seem shallower.
He thought of what others shared. Love. Marriage. Family. Things he had always put off for another day. First, his academic pursuits took every bit of his attention. And then his military service never allowed him to even think of settling down with someone who wanted to build a life with him. His time with Marilynn had been more of a relationship of convenience—for both of them. Not once did they speak of a long-term relationship. Always living in the here and now. And now—with what Joe told him—he understood more clearly. It has been a relationship built on a lie.
He felt emptiness closing in. When his parents died, it was like that door of normalcy closed forever. He had one mission in life. Find his parents’ killer. And now…maybe…he knew who that killer might be—Richard Kane. At least he knew who probably ordered the hit. Maybe bringing Kane down would give him a chance to enjoy a normal life some day.
That thought drew his attention to Alena seated next to him. She was watching Jessie and Travis joking together. He thought he saw a look of wistfulness in her eyes. What was her story? She was very attractive. A woman like that must have a man waiting for her to return.
Then he thought about their first encounter in San Francisco. She admitted to watching him for several years. That didn’t sound like a normal life. A normal woman didn’t don a wet suit, sneak into a houseboat at night, and force him to leave moments before the place blows up, leaving a dead man inside. That’s far from normal.
Maybe he and Alena shared the same difficulties—unable to live like the rest of mankind. Might that draw them together? Then Marilynn’s face flashed through his mind. Get a hold of yourself, Gerrit. One woman—a traitor—lay dead. And now he was thinking about another woman, this Mission Impossible gal who seems to have no history.
This concussion might have jarred his brains loose. Better focus on your own problems, pal. His track record with women seemed bound for failure. Better focus on staying alive.
Like his uncle, he might be running and hiding for the rest of his life. Kane was just the tip of the iceberg. Other people—wielding even more power—must lurk out there in the grayness of politics, government, and business. Powerful individuals who determined he was a liability. For the moment, Kane and the others thought he’d been eliminated. How long would that last?
Joe rose from the table and began gathering dishes. “Why don’t you folks relax and I’ll have these done in a jiffy.” As he gathered the last dish and entered the cabin, Jessie leaned over the table and took Alena’s hand. “It was so nice getting to know you this afternoon. I’m sorry you have to leave so soon. We women need to stick together in this group.”
Travis laughed. “Hell-raisers more like it.” He winked at Gerrit. “We have something in common, my man.”
Gerrit leaned back. “What’s that?”
“Women and water.” Travis grinned. “The first time I met Jessie, she tried to drown me.”
Jessie slapped Travis on the shoulder. “You drowned yourself, honey. I stood by to make sure you didn’t kill yourself.”
Travis continued. “I hired her as a river guide to get me through the white water upriver from here. Instead, she watched as I almost killed myself in one of those rapids. And when I bounced back from death’s doorstep, she was laughing her head off.”
Jessie gave him a hug. “You survived, so I did my job.”
Travis shook his head. “Back to my point—women and water. So Alena drags you outside moments before your place is bombed to smithereens.”
Gerrit gave a quick look at Alena. She lowered her eyes, blushing.
Travis continued, unrelenting. “You know what they say about the debt you owe someone who saves your life, buddy. You’re tied to them forever. So, I guess it is foreordained that you two—”
“Stop it, Travis.” Jessie gave a threatening look. “You’re embarrassing them. I think it’s sweet that Alena risked her life to save Gerrit. Let’s just leave it at that.”
Suddenly, Gerrit felt uncomfortable. “You know, I’ve been cooped up in bed and need to stretch my legs. I think I’ll take Bones and Sam and head down to the river, if you guys don’t mind.”
Travis smiled. “It would do Sam good to run some of this dinner off. Go for it.”
Relieved, Gerrit patted his leg, looking at the dogs. “Come on, guys. I snagged a couple pieces of Travis’s steak with your names on it.” He held them up for the dogs to see as he made his way to the stairs. They came bounding after him, tails wagging, eyeing the meat with hungry eagerness.
He climbed down the steps and walked a few yards down the gravel pathway when he heard footsteps behind him. Turning, he saw Alena following.
“Mind if I tag along? Needed to get away from Travis.”
Gerrit nodded. “I know what you mean.”
“He is a great guy. Helped us in the past when we needed assistance. But sometimes, he gets on my nerves.”
Gerrit bent down and let each dog have one of the chunks of meat. “Welcome the company. By the way, do you know where we’re going tomorrow?”
“Where we first met—San Francisco.”
“Why there?” He wiped his hands off and began walking down the path.
“That is where I live when I am not running around chasing you.” She smiled for a moment. “Seriously, we thought it best to relocate you there until things cool down. I am all set up and can provide a good cover for you while we start to fill in your backside.”
“Backside?”
“You know, the story about your fake past.”
“Oh. You mean backstory?”
“Whatever you Americans call it. Anyway, Joe and Willy—you haven’t met him yet—will recreate your past with a new name, ID, the whole thing. Make you a new person.”
“What name should I use?”
Alena stopped for moment, looking into his eyes. “I like the name David. David from the Bible.”
“Why him?”
She came alongside as they neared the river. “He was a warrior, a leader of men. And he was very brave—like you, Gerrit.”
“I’m not a brave man, Alena.”
She took his arm for moment. “You forget. I have been watching you for more than seven years. I know just about everything there is to know about you. I say you are a David.”
Suddenly her closeness made him feel uncomfortable. He never let anyone get close before. His first inclination was to back away. Build a wall. “You know everything about me? Like what?”
Alena just smiled. “Come on, I think the dogs want to go for a swim.”
“What is your last name?”
“Shapiro. Alena Shapiro.”
“That a Russian name?”
She nodded. “A Russian Jewish name.”
“How did a Russian Jewish woman wind up in San Francisco working with my uncle?”
Her eyes darkened as if she suddenly pulled down a curtain. “A long story, Gerrit.”
“Give me the Reader’s Digest ve
rsion.”
“Reader’s Digest? What is this?”
“I mean, just give me a brief story about how you met.”
She took a deep breath. “It is not a happy one. When I was about nineteen years old, my parents finally obtained a visa to Israel for all three of us. A lifetime dream of theirs and they wanted to get me out of Russia. We resettled in that country and I had an opportunity to go to school. When I was twenty-two years old and serving in the Israeli army, my parents took a trip to visit my father’s brother in Buenos Aires, Argentina in 1994. My relatives were showing my family around the city, including the AMIA building.”
Gerrit looked at her sharply. “Asociación Mutual Israelita Argentina? I remember the incident.”
She nodded, eyes downcast. “I’m impressed. You even have the pronunciation right.”
He shrugged. “What can I say. It’s a gift…or a curse. My memory.”
Sadness washed over her. She closed her eyes, and words seemed to catch in her throat. “Eighty-five people killed, including my folks. The handiwork of Hezbollah and the Iranian government.”
“I’m sorry, Alena. I shouldn’t pry.”
She angrily wiped away a tear. “Sometimes it feels like it happened years ago. And I have been at war ever since. Other times, like right now, I close my eyes and I feel like it just—”
He saw she could not continue. He knew not to dig any further. “Loved ones can leave a hole in your soul that can never be filled,” he said, quietly.
She nodded. “Time and God may heal the soul, but scars will always be there—never letting you forget.”
They walked in silence to the river’s edge, the swollen Clearwater River running swiftly past their feet as evening shadows fell. An arctic chill swept down the canyon as winter let them know another snowstorm might be coming their way. Spring was a long way off.
As dusk settled, a momentary sense of peace descended, as if the land and the river promised shelter from the pending storm. The forest around them seemed quiet and content, ignoring winter’s threat.
