Betrayal

by Tim Tigner

  “The keys are gone. I started to take them with me but then figured that they would be confiscated if I was captured so I left them right here on this rock as insurance.” He pointed to a flat-topped boulder. “Now they’re gone.” He bent down and began searching the grass around the rock. Cassi joined him, searching the side of the cliff as well. After a few minutes they decided that it was hopeless. The keys were gone.

  “Do you think Wiley took them?”

  “If he saw me coming he would have. But I don’t think he did. My money is on one of those crows. He pointed at three black figures on a neighboring tree. I thought I was being clever, but it appears that I was outwitted by a bird.”

  “What do we do now?” Cassi asked

  “Go back to the marina and wait for the Coast Guard.”

  “What makes you think they’re coming?”

  “I’m going for a swim.”

  Cassi could not believe what her brother was proposing. “You can’t do that. You’ll freeze.”

  “I’ve got a wetsuit, and the eastern shore is much closer than the western one. It looks like it’s only a mile.”

  “Tell that to the sharks.”

  ~ ~ ~

  On any other day, Cassi would have found Odi’s plan preposterous. Today it was de rigueur. After watching him disappear into the waves, she walked back through the woods. She heard every cracking twig and each rattling branch but no squirrels or birds. Even the crows were gone. The forest that only moments ago had seemed so refreshing, now felt dead. She found herself acutely aware of being alone. She knew that she had better get used to that feeling. The man with whom she had planned to spend the rest of her life was now destined for disgrace and jail. Or was he? She wondered, feeling a sudden chill.

  Cassi drummed her fingers on the DVD in her pocket. She would let Wiley walk if that was the only way to save her brother. There was no question about that. Unless ... Cassi asked herself what she would do if it looked like Wiley would actually become vice president. Would she sacrifice Odi to prevent that? She would have to. No, she corrected herself. What she would have to do was find some other way of stopping Wiley. Some other way …

  She walked past the manor house without stopping and headed straight for the marina. She never wanted to set foot in Wiley’s home again. As she stepped onto the cobbled walk, she wondered if she would ever truly understand what had happened. Wiley’s actions were so far removed from her current comprehension that she did not know if her mind could twist to an angle that would allow it to make sense. Of course she would have said the same thing about Odi a few hours earlier and now it was clear that he had charted a rational course. However Wiley’s case was different, she decided. He had confessed.

  Still drumming her fingers on the DVD, Cassi wondered what it was that had turned Wiley from her? From the life they had, a life that most people would consider ideal? She still believed that he had truly loved her once. Some life-altering event must have occurred. For her sanity’s sake, she needed to know what it was. She refused to believe that anything that felt so real could be faked. She suspected that Stuart was the key. She wondered who he really was. Clearly Stuart was not the old college friend that Wiley had portrayed him to be over brunch. Perhaps he was the corrupting influence. Come hell or high water, Cassi promised herself, she would find out.

  As Cassi followed the cobbled walk toward the top of the marina’s stairs, she looked out across the water. A boat was approaching. Could it be the Coast Guard already? Odi would have to be one hell of a swimmer. But then he was a lot of things. Her heart leapt until she got a better look, then it dropped to her stomach as she dropped to the ground. Wiley was returning.

  Chapter 58

  Chesapeake Bay

  ODI FELT THE cold water of the Chesapeake draining his life—despite his exertion, despite the wetsuit. The bay water could not be more than forty-five degrees. Each time he rolled his face back into the water after sucking in a breath, it felt as though someone were driving a wedge between his eyes. At least the wind was light and the waves were small—for now. The sky was darkening by the minute.

  Once his muscles finally warmed and he got up to cruising speed, Odi set his body on autopilot and attempted to focus on the problems before him rather than the deathly cold. He had a cart-full. He had to stop bombings on twenty-four airplanes and one cruise ship. He had to rescue Cassi. He had to catch Ayden, Stuart, and Wiley. He had to do it all in a matter of hours. He had no money, no transportation, no disguise, and no weapon.

  Trying to piece together a plan, Odi took a nose full of brine as yet another obstacle marched across the battlefield in his mind. Whatever he did he was going to have to do without being identified or even seen. That was no short order. Cassi had told him that Wiley had issued an APB for a terrorist who matched his description and was using his name. It was a clever move. It blocked Odi from approaching the media, the press, or any government officer—at least today, given his time constraints. With one clever move Wiley had isolated his opponent, and forced him to work alone.

  Odi began to prioritize as he stroked and kicked. The first thing he needed was a solid timetable. Wiley had indicated that the bombings would take place “that afternoon.” That gave him hope. If it were true, then there should be time for him to call the Coast Guard, for the Coast Guard to rescue Cassi, and for Cassi to call to the FBI in time to stop the suicide bombers.

  To confirm the timing, Odi planned to pull the schedule of the Senate Armed Services Committee off the Internet. He would also check the Queen Mary 2’s schedule to see when she was scheduled to depart New York. Once Cassi got out word of the attack, the Chairman of the SASC would either be pulled off the QM2 or guarded by the Secret Service. Ayden, however, would not know that. He would still board the ship. Odi would board it too. Ayden was his.

  Odi had no doubt that Ayden had purchased his ticket under an assumed name. Odi did not have that option. He did not have time to generate a fake ID with matching credit card. Stealing a set was also out for obvious reasons. He decided that his best chance of getting aboard the QM2 would be to mug and replace a sailor.

  The more he thought about it, the more he decided that mugging was the way to go. It should not be too difficult, he tried to convince himself. He would just hang around near the NYC Cruise Terminal looking for a tall white guy with a QM2 duffel bag. Psst. Hey, Bud …

  Now that he knew how to leap the highest hurdle, he began thinking about the hurdles that were closest at hand. He still had to get from the middle of the Chesapeake Bay to Manhattan. As Odi considered his options he felt something brush by his foot. It brought him out of his autopilot trance. Sharks were not unknown in Chesapeake waters. He recalled Cassi’s warning but brushed it off. What were the odds? He had already been Tasered, left to burn in a gaseous explosion, and filled full of liquid explosive today. The rule of three worked against adding “shark attack” to that list.

  He looked up to take note of his position and scan the waves for fins. He had swum further than he thought. That was the day’s first pleasant surprise. A few hundred more bits of good news and he would be even.

  Odi was able to make out the details of waterfront houses now. They appeared to be very nice, much nicer than Charlotte’s modest cottage. As he stroked on, a plan began to take form. He changed his course slightly, heading directly for the nearest bay-front residence rather than the vacant lot he had been targeting. He estimated that he would reach the shore in ten minutes at about eight o’clock. Some of the locals should be leaving their houses at that time, heading for work …

  Chapter 59

  Near the New York City Cruise Terminal

  ONCE THE WAITRESS finally set down their espressos and departed, Ayden asked Arvin, “How did you enter the country?” He heard relief and surprise in his own voice, and tried to mask it with a calmer clarification. “I mean, aren’t you on a list or something?”

  The Iranian smiled a bemused smile. “Lists only catch peop
le who don’t know they’re on them. Once you know, they pose no problem.”

  Ayden wanted to know the specifics of Arvin’s assertion, but he was afraid to ask. He did not want to seem naïve. Despite everything that he had already accomplished for Arvin—recruiting Odi, guiding him, deceiving him, supporting him, and finally killing him—Ayden still felt a compulsion to prove himself to Arvin. The man had incredible charisma.

  Either Arvin read his face or he just happened to be in a pedagogical mood, for he did go on to explain his assertion. “I flew into Toronto and drove down from there.” He grinned and shook his head in amusement. “I barely had to slow the car at the border as I waved a fake passport. If they had turned me around I would have flown into Mexico and crossed via the tomato-picking pipeline. Or,” he nodded his head back toward the dark mountain of steel resting in the harbor behind them, “if I felt like crossing the border in style and didn’t mind spending some cash, I would have flown to a Caribbean island and convinced a passenger to let me replace him for the homebound stretch of the cruise.”

  Ayden nodded. You heard so much about border security these days that he had just assumed that entering the US illegally could not be easy. “So all the hype about border security, all the boarding-pass checks and Homeland Security measures …”

  “They’re just for show. Keeps the voting taxpayers docile while rewarding campaign contributors with fat homeland defense contracts.”

  “Still,” Ayden pressed, “I don’t understand why you risked coming personally?”

  Arvin reached out across the tiny table and put his hand on Ayden’s shoulder. Then he flashed a smile that made Ayden feel warm all over. “This is your big day, Ayden. I’m proud of you. The son of an orphaned Iranian immigrant is about to change the world. This is an historical moment. I want to be able to say that I was there with Ayden Archer on 10/12.”

  Ayden saw tears forming in the corners of Arvin’s mesmerizing eyes. He looked down, embarrassed.

  “I’ve heard from the other twenty-four,” Arvin continued after a moment’s pause. “Each is in position near his assigned gate. No one had an issue with security. Meanwhile the SASC is still in committee, so you should be able to get to the chairman before his colleagues begin falling from the sky. And,” he brought his palms together, “there’s more good news. I finally learned the details of Marshall’s diet. He goes through a gallon of coffee a day—lots of cream, lots of sugar. So you won’t need to mix Creamer into gravy or soup.”

  “How on earth did you learn that?”

  “I had a friend seduce one of his administrative assistants. They’re all trained never to mention business, but it’s natural enough to joke about bringing the senator his coffee. She said that everyone on the staff brings him a fresh mug whenever he summons them to his office. It’s an unspoken rule.”

  Ayden nodded appreciatively and Arvin switched gears.

  “This is for you,” Arvin said, handing over an envelope and a small suitcase. “The envelope contains a British passport with your photo and a matching ticket. You’re booked into the suite next to Marshall. There’s also a credit card for incidental expenses.”

  “And the suitcase?”

  “It contains the uniform of a QM2 steward. I don’t have a weapon for you—that would be too risky—but you can use a wine bottle or a Plexiglas towel rod to knock out the steward bringing Senator and Mrs. Marshall their dinner. Then all you will need is Creamer. How much do you have?”

  “I’ve got a whole pint.”

  “Excellent. That’s enough to fill two little pitchers and spike the soup just in case.”

  The way Arvin said it he made it seem so easy, Ayden thought. Assassinating the Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee, getting your car washed, one and the same. He hoped Arvin was right. In any case, Ayden thought, he was about to find out.

  Chapter 60

  Asgard Island, Chesapeake Bay

  CASSI HUGGED THE ground behind a sculpted hedge and watched the Norse Wind arrive. It was approaching much too fast. The engines roared into reverse as it neared the dock, making the water boil. The yacht bucked in response but it was too little too late. She watched it careen into the iron dock with a deep thud and a grating scrape. Wiley was obviously upset—but he had nothing on her.

  The image of Stuart forcing Wiley to do what he had done flashed through her mind, extending a ray of hope. She caught herself grasping for it and shook her head in self-rebuke. She was a professional psychologist, not a teenage girl. She had to face it: the man she loved, the man she had pinned her hopes, her dreams, her very heart on, was a worm.

  Stuart jumped onto the dock alone, making Cassi feel all the more foolish. Then insight overwhelmed shame and she understood. They had remembered the surveillance video.

  She wondered if Wiley was waiting on the yacht, too racked with guilt to move, or if he was back on the mainland. Sadly enough, she would have to bet on the latter. Wiley was acting purely as a politician now. He would contract out his dirty work.

  She continued hugging the hedge until Stuart jogged past, praying to the god of invisibility. Then she low-crawled to the top of the stairs and studied the yacht from above. All appeared quiet, but light was reflecting off the windshield, making it impossible for her to see if anyone was on the bridge.

  Grabbing the base of the railing for support, she pulled herself over the cliff’s edge until she was dangling beneath the stairs. In that position her feet were still hanging twenty feet above unfriendly rocks, but she was out of the yacht’s view. The new vantage gave her a shot of insight. She anchored her feet and pulled the video recording from her jacket pocket. She kissed it and then wedged it into the gap between the top of the cliff and the underside of the highest stair. Now she would have leverage if they caught her. If they didn’t, she could always come back for the video. It didn’t matter if DVD’s got wet, did it?

  She brushed that fear aside and began working her way down the underside of the stairs again, aware that Stuart would be returning any second. There was quite a latticework under there. Whoever built the stairs had built them to last. At the bottom she used the dock’s bracings to keep above the freezing water. The posts were six feet apart there, so twice she had to stretch her legs in a full split to reach. This left her terribly vulnerable for about five seconds each time, but it was better than getting wet in this weather. Poor Odi. She prayed that he had survived the swim—and summoned the Coast Guard.

  She pulled herself up onto the cold iron dock where she was out of view from the bridge and listened. She heard nothing but water lapping the yacht’s hull and crashing against the rocks. There was no sign of Wiley but that did not mean that he wasn’t there. She wondered how much time she had left. Stuart had undoubtedly reached the security closet by now. He would be less familiar with the system than Wiley, so it would take him a minute to orient himself. He would also note that the explosion had blown out the door to the study and he might take the time to investigate. She wondered if he would note the lack of gore and realize that neither she nor Odi had hosted the blast. If he did, he would bolt for the yacht straight away. She wished she had checked her watch as he walked by. With all the adrenaline now coursing through her system, it was hard to estimate time.

  She crawled toward the back of the yacht and pulled herself through the aft gate. After another short pause to listen, she crept to the companionway that led up to the bridge. She crouched there for a moment, trying to picture the contents of the cabin above. She was mentally searching for a weapon. Wiley’s binoculars leapt to mind. He had the heavy nautical kind with a thick leather strap. She tried to imagine the scene, mentally practicing her moves. She would barge through the door, grab the strap, and spin into a swing. If Wiley was there, she would knock him out before he had time to react—unless he was ready for her. If she allowed herself to be seen or heard, she would be running into the barrel of a gun.

  Cassi took a deep breath and sprang up the stairs as
quickly as a frightened cat. Bursting onto the bridge she grabbed the binoculars by the strap and began to pivot. The cabin was in fact empty. Stuart had returned alone.

  She scanned the bridge for a handgun just in case. Then she checked the drawers. Nothing. A weapon would have been comforting but it was not crucial. She was about to strand Stuart on the island.

  Cassi had little experience behind the wheel of a yacht, just a few playful minutes with Wiley by her side. But she was not concerned about damaging his yacht or any other, so she did not care. She studied the controls for a second to re-familiarize herself, focusing on the throttles and the wheel. Then she pushed the starter. Nothing happened. She pushed again. Zip.

  Frustrated now and more than a little bit nervous, she studied the rest of the controls. She saw screens and knobs and switches with labels. She pounded the wheel and cursed the wind. Where was the bloody switch marked go?

  She remembered the ship-to-shore radio and enjoyed a flash of hope. She could call for help and get instructions on how to start the bloody boat. She reached up for the mike and caught empty space. Her eyes began to tear as she stared at the socket.

  She thought of everything she had been through during this last hour: Wiley’s betrayal, Odi’s Creamer, the retching, the explosion. Then she thought of Odi plowing through that freezing surf. After all that, she could not allow herself to be foiled by something as simple as the failure to find a switch.

  As Cassi considered the option of flipping every switch and hitting each button, she spotted an empty chrome hub to the right of the wheel. The sight of it made her collapse into the captain’s chair. Stuart had taken the keys. “The mike and the keys,” she muttered. He was one meticulous bastard.

  As she flopped backwards into the captain’s chair, Cassi heard a sharp crack coming from inches in front of her face. She snapped her head up and saw a spider’s web of cracks in the windshield. The web had a hole in the center. The agent in her recognized the hole as a .38—not that it really mattered. Stuart had returned. The angle of the sun must have changed, allowing him to see her from the top of the marina’s stairs. Obviously he had decided to fire straight off, perhaps thinking that she had a spare set of keys.