Betrayal

by Tim Tigner

  Or could he?

  Careful not to put pressure on his arms, Odi walked to the nearest lab station and squirmed onto the countertop. The noxious smell was strongest here, and he felt his dizziness begin to spike. He bit down hard on his tongue in an effort to stay awake while arching his back and lowering his hands into the sink in an attempt to engage the stopper. As he reached for the faucet, he tasted blood and his vision began to blur. The solution was in his grasp, but he was already too late.

  To buy a few seconds more he pressed his leg against the nozzle of the closest jet, plugging the deadly flow. This was like playing a demented game of Twister—without the girl. Keeping pressure on his leg, he strained forward so that his bound hands could reach the faucet and turned on the cold water.

  The wait for the sink to fill seemed the longest of Odi’s life. His shoulder burned, his head pounded, his tongue bled, his arms cramped, and oblivion was just a spasm or twitch away. He used the time to slowly, deliberately shut off the nozzle he had been blocking with his leg. Now he only had nineteen gas jets to go.

  Once the water was sufficiently deep, Odi leaned back and plunged his hands to the bottom of the sink. He yanked his wrists apart the instant the sparker was submerged. As the tape ripped, he heard the sparker’s flint scrape across the scratch pad but the water rendered it impotent. It was the first time he had used that word with a smile.

  With a sigh of relief contrary to the physical pain he was feeling, he rolled his wrists to peel off the tape, losing the hair on his forearms in the process. God, what was he going to look like when this was all over? He wondered. Then he laughed at himself. Anything but a cinder would do.

  He tossed the sparker back into the water and sprang to the floor. He closed the remaining gas jets in less than a minute and enabled the smashed ventilation switch in a few seconds more. The noise of the overhead vent sucking gas into space was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

  After thirty seconds of breath-catching, oxygen-sucking rest, Odi sprayed the second sparker with the fire extinguisher. Then he removed it from atop the door and tossed it into the water beside its twin. He grabbed his jacket from the stool on which it was draped and was further relieved to feel some extra weight. He checked the pocket and felt a further surge of relief. The Dasani bottle full of Creamer was still there. As the sight of it registered, so did the outline of his next moves.

  Chapter 47

  The Grand Hyatt, Washington, D.C.

  AS AYDEN WATCHED the crowd of young men growing around him, filling the suite, he felt a warm glow percolating inside. These martyrs were nothing like the barbaric, deranged, ignorant thugs the manipulating politicians and sensation-seeking press liked to finger with upturned noses. These were clean-cut, crystal-eyed, educated leaders, soberly making the ultimate sacrifice for a charitable cause. Tomorrow, the establishment’s propaganda tricks would backfire. Homeland Security would never see his soldiers coming.

  Before they disbursed, however, Ayden knew that such a quantity of Middle-Easterners was apt to draw attention from a wary populace. To counteract any suspicions that might arise, He had let it slip that he was auditioning to fill a dozen minor roles in a new Tom Clancy movie. The bellboy’s eyes lit up as they strayed from the platter of sandwiches to the videotaping equipment. “How exciting. You know, I was once in a—”

  “Well, now that I’ve taken you into our confidence,” Ayden interrupted, brandishing a crisp Benjamin, “I’d appreciate your keeping our presence quiet. These days everyone thinks they can act, and the last thing we need is a line of Tom Cruise wannabes at our door.”

  The bellboy made the c-note vanish faster than a chameleon’s lunch. Then he bowed and offered an obsequious “But of course.”

  Ayden looked out at the crowd and nodded. Arvin’s twenty-four volunteers had arrived at odd intervals over the previous two hours and now they filled the two-thousand-dollar-a-night Hyatt suite. Their air was more jovial than somber, but Ayden could sense the tension percolating just below the surface. Suppressing that tension was half of today’s job. The other half was locking in their resolve.

  As he took a seat atop the granite counter of the sitting room bar, the chatter trailed off and the room grew silent. He rolled his shoulders once and began. “We are strangers united by our mutual commitment to a great cause. That makes us friends. Friends, please listen to me now, for I have much to reveal.

  “To my left you see a stack of envelopes, to my right,” he ceremoniously lifted a black cloth, “one hundred mini-bar beverage bottles. Four for each of you.” Ayden held up one of the fine linen envelopes and withdrew a 3-ounce bottle of Baileys Irish Cream from the case. “These are your mission and your means. I will begin by explaining precisely how and when the Irish Cream is to be used. Then after lunch, each of you is going to make a video, a video that will make your family proud for countless generations to come …”

  Chapter 48

  Asgard Island, Chesapeake Bay

  AS THE NORSE Wind approached Asgard across a choppy bay, Cassi walked out to stand by the rail. She caught some spray on her face. It tasted bitterly cold and very salty—not unlike her present predicament.

  She traced the yacht’s heading to the coastline ahead. She had not studied Wiley’s tiny marina on her previous visits. There had been no need. For the next twenty-four hours, however, Wiley’s island was going to be her battleground. She began to study it as such. “Tell me about the marina,” she shouted into the cabin.

  “It can handle yachts up to 120 feet in length.” Wiley yelled back, his voice buffeted by the wind. “The two central lifts are powerful enough to raise sixty footers completely out of the water. That isn’t usually necessary, but it’s nice to have when seas get rough.”

  Cassi knew that they would not be using a lift now. Per their agreement, Wiley was not even going to cut the motor. He was just dropping her off.

  “Is something wrong?” Wiley asked. “You seem to be staring.”

  “No. I’m just getting a tactical perspective. Is this the only place a boat can safely land?”

  “Sure is. The rocks will shred your hull if you try to tie-up anywhere else.”

  Cassi realized that she had never seen the island from the eastern side. They always approached from Virginia. “So the whole circumference looks like this—rocky cliffs rising from water?”

  “Yep. Geologically speaking, Asgard is a rocky mountaintop protruding from the bay. The average drop is over thirty feet, and nowhere is it less than twenty.”

  “So why did you build the dock here? Why not closer to the house?”

  “This is the best-protected spot on the leeward side of the island.”

  Cassi nodded and studied the scraggly cliffs. “When I look at it from a tactical perspective, it kind of reminds me of Alcatraz.”

  “My grandfather would have banished you forever if he heard you say that. We Proffitts prefer to think of our island as Valhalla.”

  Their banter was growing lighter as each tried to cover the growing awkwardness of their situation—the nervousness, the guilt, and yes, the sexual tension. They were not taking the familiar trip to make love in the clover on the bluff or to walk through the sculpted gardens kissing and holding hands. They were colleagues on a mission, nothing more, she realized. It hurt. “What’s the circumference of your earthly heaven?” She asked.

  “Just over two miles. The island covers roughly one square kilometer, although it’s not square. As my grandmother used to say, Asgard is shaped like an open-mouthed smile.”

  Or a frown, Cassi thought, depending on your perspective. “With the marina for its front teeth?”

  “And the house as a dimple.”

  Cassi continued to study the marina as Wiley masterfully maneuvered the forty-eight foot yacht toward an iron berth. The last time she had been here, she had been with Odi. Odi would come this time too, but this time she would be against him.

  Wiley drifted in alongside the dock, gave the t
win engines a second of reverse, and put the motor in neutral. The Norse Wind halted as though on wheels. “Are you sure you want me to leave, Cassi? I would much rather stay. I don’t feel good about leaving you here alone.”

  The woman in her yearned for him to stay, but today the agent prevailed. “I am sure. I have to handle him myself, one-on-one.”

  Wiley shook his head. “What if he doesn’t give you that chance? What if there’s a bomb waiting up there, like the one he left at your aunt’s cottage? Or what if he changes MO’s and uses a sniper rifle?”

  Cassi looked down at the sea to hide the doubt in her eyes. “I’m not just his twin sister, Wiley. I’m also a profiler. I’m convinced that Odi won’t do that.”

  “How can you be so sure when you don’t even know his motivation? He has obviously changed. Who knows what happened to him over there. Maybe he’s hearing voices or taking his orders from a dog.”

  Wiley was playing to her emotions effectively. She knew that she had to keep it professional or she might crack. “Because whatever his reason, the first killings show that this is very personal to him.”

  “We don’t know that,” Wiley shot back. “I’m not a defense contractor. Even if the others were personal, this one could be different.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Wiley. Really I do. But we agreed on this hours ago, and you promised to let me do this my way. I’m getting off the boat now. I don’t want to see you again until this time tomorrow.”

  Chapter 49

  Asgard Island, Chesapeake Bay

  ODI FELT AN adrenaline kick as the rising sun crested the island bluff and sent rays of golden light through the bulletproof windows. He knew it would not be long now. Wiley was a creature of habit.

  Odi had given up on trying to guess Ayden’s intentions for the Creamer in order to focus on a sure thing. He could not allow a traitor like Wiley to assume the second highest office in the land, but he could not expect to stop him either—at least not with political or legal means. Wiley was far too rich and powerful for conventional measures like that. Fortunately, Odi was an unconventional kind of guy—and he still had a Dasani bottle full of Creamer.

  He bent over to touch his toes, holding the stretch for a ten-count to warm his muscles. Wiley did not heat the manor house at night. Odi was not surprised. Despite his wealth, Wiley struck Odi as the traditionally frugal New-England flannel-pajamas-and-thick-comforter type. That really sucked when your body was as sore and cold as Odi’s was after his pounding midnight Jet Ski ride. But he was not complaining. He had come a long way to reach this final phase. After weeks of struggle, he had just one battle to go.

  Odi studied the room through the crack in the closet door. This was something he had not been able to do in the dark of the night. Wiley’s enormous study looked exactly as it had the one time he had visited with Cassi. Windows along the east side of the room, a long aquarium along the west, with a sixty-inch screen on the far wall and a suite of matching black-leather furniture in the middle.

  At the far end from where Odi hid, a bar occupied one corner and a large glass desk the other. Behind the desk a Plexiglas lectern faced out the window. Odi had asked Wiley about the lectern’s odd placement. “It helps condition me to ignore diversion and distraction,” Wiley had explained. “Both are key to Beltway survival.”

  The lectern was the focus of Odi’s attention now. It was the lure that would draw his rat to the trap—sometime soon from the sound of it, he noted. The pipes had just come to life. He guessed that Wiley was taking a shower.

  He caught sight of the large remote control next to the marble ashtray on the end table, the one Wiley had used during their last visit to activate the panic room. He should have hidden it as a precaution, Odi realized, but he did not want to risk retrieving it now that he knew Wiley was awake. It probably didn’t matter anyway. There was no button you could push when you had a bomb in your belly—except perhaps game over.

  Odi was still contemplating the irony of setting a trap in a panic room when Wiley walked in. That was quick, he thought, but then Wiley had obviously come straight from the shower. He was wearing Scottish flannel PJ’s and a thick white robe with a hood that made him look like a prizefight boxer approaching the ring. He supposed the analogy was suitable. The lectern was a politician’s arena.

  Wiley crossed the study to his practice lectern without so much as a glance toward the closet, and began to practice for his upcoming PoliTalk appearance. “It’s a pleasure to be back on PoliTalk, Jim.”

  Odi slipped silently out of his hiding place.

  “I’d like to be the bearer of good news today,” Wiley continued, “but from where I sit the situation looks bleak.”

  Odi raised two Berettas toward Wiley’s back and said “It does indeed.”

  Wiley said nothing in response. He just froze.

  Odi thought he detected a tremble. “Look at me,” he commanded.

  Slowly, very slowly Wiley turned around while using his left hand to remove his hood. First Odi saw the voice recorder, then he saw the face. The person in the bathrobe was Cassi.

  Chapter 50

  Asgard Island, Chesapeake Bay

  “COME ON, SHOOT him,” Stuart whispered, staring at the security monitor. “Shoot the bastard.”

  “You’re dreaming,” Wiley said without averting his eyes. “Cassi’s not going to shoot her brother. There was a chance that he might have shot her in the back thinking she was me. Then we might have gotten really lucky and seen him shoot himself after discovering his mistake, à la Romeo and Juliet, but that chance is gone. It’s up to us now.”

  They had just watched Odi’s Berettas slip from his limp hands to the floor as Cassi produced a Colt .45 from her bathrobe pocket. Now the twins were just standing there, her tears flowing, his mouth agape, neither knowing what to do next.

  Stuart said, “You better get over there now before they figure things out,” but Wiley was already gone.

  ~ ~ ~

  Wiley wondered how it had come to this as he slipped out of the security closet and slunk down the hall. He knew the answer of course. He had made a Faustian exchange, his soul for the Oval Office, when he committed to The Three Marks to do whatever it takes. He realized now that he had been a fool to think that he could pull it off without genuine sacrifice—as had they.

  Peering around the doorway, Wiley could see Odi’s back and the top of Cassi’s head. She was holding her brother in a supportive embrace, although the Colt remained in her hand.

  Cassi spotted Wiley as he entered the room and she backed away from her brother.

  “What is it?” Odi asked, obviously studying her face before turning to look around.

  “I couldn’t leave you alone in your time of need,” Wiley said, before Cassi could comment. “I was worried. I’m glad to see that you’ve got things under control. Shall I leave the two of you alone?”

  Before Cassi could reply, Odi interjected, “Shoot him now. Don’t let him get to my guns.”

  Wiley almost smiled when he heard Odi’s words. It was as if he was reading from Stuart’s script.

  Odi’s guns lay on the floor in front of the closet. They were a yard to Wiley’s left, and a full twenty feet from the Carrs. Wiley held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not the one who came here to shoot anybody. In fact, I’m the only one walking around unarmed—and this is my house.”

  “Don’t listen to him Cassi,” Odi interrupted. He has killed lots of people, including Derek, Flint, and Adam.”

  Keeping his voice soft and in check, Wiley said, “You’re sick, Odi. Deranged. Mentally ill. What happened to you over there in Iran? What did they do to you?”

  As he spoke, Wiley watched Cassi look back and forth, her face a mask of anguish and apprehension. Sensing her indecision, he held out his hands and said, “Let’s diffuse this situation. We don’t want anyone doing anything stupid.” He slowly bent down and grabbed the barrels of each of Odi’s Berettas between thumb and forefinger without taking
his eyes off Cassi’s face. Moving slowly, he walked over to the aquarium and dropped the automatics in, saying “sorry about this, guys,” to the fish. The Berettas sank quickly through four feet of water and clanked against a white coral reef at the bottom.

  Wiley said, “Why don’t we all sit down and talk.”

  Cassi looked from Wiley to Odi to Wiley again. She blinked once and then walked toward Wiley with the Colt raised in her hand. Her face was puffy and her eyes were void of expression. In that moment, Wiley realized that he had underestimated the strength of the love that bound the twins. He had bet that Cassi would prefer to believe his trauma-victim explanation over Odi’s deeply wounding truth. He had lost.

  Wiley’s mind raced through alternatives as Cassi drew closer. He could bolt from the room, or he could try to snatch the gun, counting in both cases on her reluctance to shoot him. As she closed the gap he decided on the latter. He wanted this mess to be over. Just before he pounced, Cassi transferred the Colt to her left hand, grabbing the barrel between thumb and forefinger.

  Odi yelled, “No!” as Cassi held it up to her left and added it to the fish’s collection. “Yes,” she said, obviously trying to keep her voice calm. “Let’s sit.”

  As Wiley stared at the three weapons resting impotently on the floor of the tank he felt a surge of relief and a wave elation. He had won.

  Chapter 51

  Asgard Island, Chesapeake Bay

  CASSI LOOKED OVER at Odi through tear-soaked eyes, afraid that her heart would break. Although upset at first, she was now glad that Wiley had broken their agreement and returned early. She did not want to go through this alone. She dropped her weapon in the tank where it settled next to Odi’s and then walked over to the couch. Wiley followed.