by David Beers
Shock, that’s what they were in, and Tommy knew the state well. He’d probably been in it for nearly a year after Luke stabbed a knife through his neck. They just couldn’t believe what had happened yesterday, though Tommy had missed the worst of it. He spent the attack down in the subbasement, not seeing the blood and guts pouring out across the building’s lobby. Christian had shoved Simone through the muck, and Waverly had spent the last ten hours with survivors.
Still, Tommy found it hard to understand the destruction Luke had created.
“I have to talk with the press again this morning, and I don’t want to give Luke credit for this, but I don’t know what else to tell them,” Waverly said, his back still to them. Tommy had never heard Waverly say he didn’t know what to do, nor heard him sound so … defeated. “A hundred dead and another 300 wounded. Fifty of them will die today. Probably another 20 tomorrow … Is this the devil? Is Luke the devil incarnate?”
Tommy glanced over at Christian; he was leaning back in his chair, slumped and staring at his shoes.
“What’s he going to do next, Christian?” Waverly said. “You thought he would do something like this, and he did. So what’s next?”
“I don’t know, sir. I haven’t had time to process any of this.”
“Process?” Waverly said, turning around, his voice rising. “Time to fucking process, Christian? Do you think Luke is processing? No. He’s getting ready to wipe out another hundred of my goddamn employees, so forgive me if I need you to have already processed all this. Forgive me, Christian, if I need you to work a little faster than you currently fucking are.”
Tommy’s eyes widened as much as they could, which was only slightly. He’d heard aggression from the Director before, but not out and out insults.
“Sir,” Tommy said. Waverly looked to him, the anger in his face turning and refocusing as he did. Tommy didn’t hesitate, but kept speaking. “You want us to catch him, but what have you done since the attack occurred? As soon as we finished giving our statements, which took nearly an entire day, you put us on a plane and brought us up here. We’ve had barely an hour to debrief with each other, much less create any plans. We haven’t been able to begin an investigation. I’m saying this with all due respect, sir, and you know I respect you, but we’re going to need a few hours to get a handle on what just happened.”
“A few hours? And when Luke drops a goddamn nuke on our New York office, do you think you’ll need more time, or will you be ready to go then?”
Tommy wasn’t backing down. “Sir, it’s your job to protect against any future attacks. It’s our job to find Luke. I’m asking you to let us do it.”
He felt Christian’s eyes on him and he saw Waverly’s. Silence reigned in the room, but Tommy kept his gaze firm. At one point in his life, he might have been cowed by this man, but what did a glare matter when you couldn’t stand up from your fucking chair?
Waverly broke the staring contest, looking down at the floor.
“A leader should apologize when he’s wrong. I believe that, though I don’t always do it. You’re right, Tommy. I’m sorry. I just … God damn it. He got you two first, and now all these other people. Folks who didn’t know him, who never met him, who had goddamn lives.” He looked back up. “We’ve got to find him. We’ve got to neutralize him. Do you understand?”
Tommy did, and knew Christian did as well.
And then the world exploded for the second time in less than two days.
Waverly’s assistant knocked on the door, not waiting to be let in.
“Sir, you’re going to want to see this.”
IT DIDN’T TAKE long to get on television. Veronica hadn’t lost a single media contact over the past two years. Within 24 hours (the majority of them spent making sure she was prepared to actually do this), she was back on TV. Makeup, hair, everything.
“Ladies and gentleman, I’m Brooke Yields and this is The War Room. Right now, we have an exclusive interview which has direct bearing on the FBI attacks yesterday. I’m sitting across from Veronica Lopez. She was once a bestselling author, and grew even more famous through the horrific kidnappings which turned out to be orchestrated by the notorious ex-FBI agent, Dr. Luke Titan. Ms. Lopez disappeared from the public eye two years ago when Luke Titan became a fugitive, with no one—not even her book agent—knowing where she went. Ms. Lopez is here today to tell her story, and offer insight into what happened yesterday.” The host turned from the camera to Veronica. “Thank you for coming.”
“Certainly.”
“So, you’re here now, though you haven’t been heard from for the past two years. Where did you go?”
Here it was, the end of what her and the FBI tried to build: a wall of protection, wrapping around her so high and so tight that she couldn’t see over it. She was going to destroy it all with the next sentence, and she hadn’t bothered to even call her handler. Once she had made the decision, she acted.
No turning back now.
“I went into Witness Protection, Brooke. It was well known that Luke Titan would kill me if he knew where I was, and I felt my only option was to give up my identity and go into hiding.”
“Yet, you’re back? Did the FBI approve of you coming on this show?”
“They’re learning of it now, just as your audience is.”
The hostess did a good job of not reacting too much, though Veronica saw her eyes widen slightly. Her mouth remained still, however, which was a good catch. It only took her a second to speak again.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t alert the FBI you were coming on our show? My producer told me you had.”
“I lied to him, Brooke.” Veronica looked off the set to Ralph, the producer—someone she’d known for years. “Sorry, Ralph, but I knew you wouldn’t bring me on if you knew I was going rogue.”
“Okay,” Brooke said, trying to regain control of the interview. “Nothing we can do about that now, I suppose. What made you do this? What brought you out of hiding?”
Veronica remained composed even as she knew what she said next would enrage Christian, Tommy, and Waverly. She knew that it might be jeopardizing an entire mission, but she didn’t care. If Luke wanted her, he could have her.
“Luke Titan was responsible for those attacks yesterday.”
“Luke Titan? Do you have any evidence to support these claims?”
“Not a shred, Brooke, but I know it’s him. I’m putting my life at risk right now, that’s how confident I am that he did this. He’s after his former partners, the men he almost killed two years ago. If he wants them, then he can come get me, too.”
THE TELEVISION WAS on in Luke’s hotel room, and it didn’t matter which station he turned to, the news was all the same. Each channel did only one thing: reported on his war.
And he thought it would continue that way … until he heard Veronica Lopez’s voice.
“So, you’re here now, though you haven’t been heard from for the past two years. Where did you go?”
Luke heard the host ask the question and he stopped ironing his suit. He placed the iron down on the board and walked through the bedroom and into the suite’s living room.
There, on the television, was the woman he thought he’d lost. He’d spent considerable time trying to discover what had happened to her, but ultimately figured the FBI took her underground. With more time, he might have been able to find her, yet now she was sitting in front of him on the television.
Luke listened to her speak as a smile grew on his face. He’d been just about ready to go see Christian; Luke was in D.C. just as his ex-partner was. Waverly was many things, one of them being predictable. He needed to feel in control of the situation, so he would have flown Christian and Tommy up immediately.
Both were alive, Luke was sure of that. He’d watched the two of them board their private plane from 300 yards away, Tommy’s nurse pushing his wheelchair up the ramp.
And now, another gift. Ms. Lopez apparently deciding she wanted a piece of Luke, too.
He stood in front of the television and watched the entire interview, imagining how angry Waverly would be when he heard about it. Luke hoped he was watching right now. Hoped his blood pressure was rising and that he’d start pressuring Christian to make some magic happen. To go deep into his mansion and find out what Luke was planning next.
“Thank you, Veronica,” Luke said, smiling.
She had just made his job so much easier.
“YOU’VE GOT to be fucking kidding me,” Waverly said. “This is a fucking joke, right?”
The three of them stood in his office, the flat screen television on the wall showing Veronica’s face. Christian hadn’t seen her in years, except in his mansion. He couldn’t take his eyes from her, and though Waverly was nearly raving, Christian barely heard him.
She’s so beautiful, and yet …
She’s haunted. It’s all through her. I might have a scar on my face, but she’s got them all over. You might have to stare a little harder to see them, but they’re there all the same.
“Teresa, get whoever is her handler on the phone. Right now. I don’t care what he’s doing.” Waverly didn’t turn from the television as he spoke. Christian listened as his assistant hurried from the room, her heels pounding hard on the carpeted floor as she hustled along. “What’s next? Luke’s going to be interviewed? You think the media will put him on, too?”
No one else said anything, just listened as Veronica spoke. Fear started creeping over Christian as the shock of seeing his former lover dissipated. She was in danger now, as much as Tommy and Christian. Perhaps more, because what protection did she have around her?
“Sir, we have to send agents to her now. This show is filmed in L.A., right?”
“I don’t know, Christian. I don’t normally go onto a lot of talk shows.”
“It is,” Tommy said. Christian could hear the same fear in his voice, the knowledge that she was dead if they did nothing.
Perhaps as soon as she walked out of the building. Christian had no idea how far Luke’s hand could reach, nor how quickly.
He turned to Waverly, pushing the beautiful face on the television away for a moment. “We have to get someone to her. I’m formally requesting that someone be dispatched from our L.A. offices to monitor her.”
Waverly turned from the television to Christian. It took a second, but the anger left him.
“Okay. Listen, I’ve got to deal with the aftermath of this. I’ll have Teresa send someone now. You two go do whatever you need to do and figure out how to catch this son-of-a-bitch. We’ll meet again at five.”
CHAPTER 10
N ight had fallen, and as always, Luke felt at home with it. He preferred to move during the night, though it wasn’t required. He could operate as easily in the daylight, but darkness reflected his true superiority. In the light, people thought they could see, some even thinking they could keep up. At night, though, those notions disappeared. He wore the cloak of invisibility; how could anyone think they could possibly stop what they didn’t see?
Finding Christian’s hotel room had been easy enough. He and Tommy were traveling without protection, which was shocking … yet not. They both knew the danger Luke proposed, but somehow were still operating under the presumption that Luke feared capture. Perhaps that stemmed from the way Luke had maneuvered through their past few cases, always behind the scenes and avoiding being noticed—or, perhaps, it stemmed from their own psychology, unable to shake the fact that they wouldn’t want to be caught.
Either way, the thought that Luke would simply show up after what happened yesterday never crossed their minds.
Thus following them had been easy.
Wearing a hat and sunglasses, Luke stayed back 200 yards at all times. He dressed in plain clothes, jeans and a t-shirt, looking more like a tourist than anything else.
They left the FBI office at 11:00 that night. Luke didn’t move at all as he watched them exit the building. They went to the parking lot and both entered one of the handicap vans the FBI provided Tommy. Luke’s face remained still as he watched the vehicle pull out onto the street. The lights disappeared into the darkness and Luke finally stood. He stretched his legs and arms, reaching up into the air.
Luke walked down the street and stepped into his own car.
The two of them were even staying at the same hotel. Their guards were down, in part because neither had slept in a long time. They weren’t thinking clearly, and Luke was counting on that.
He waited two hours, passing the time in his car, looking out at the street and watching cars pass to and fro in front of him. Finally, at just after one in the morning, Luke entered the hotel lobby.
The bar was closed and two people stood behind the check-in desk. Luke wore his hat, but his sunglasses were off, not wanting to worry anyone unnecessarily. After all, people weren’t keen on people wearing sunglasses in the dead of night.
“Hello, sir. How can I help you?” The young black man looked up, a smile on his face. Nice hotels hired nice employees.
Luke pulled his pistol from the back of his pants and fired a single shot into the young man’s face. He turned his shoulders slightly and fired again, this shot catching the female co-worker just above the bridge of her nose. In addition to muffling the sound, the pistol’s silencer kept both heads from exploding, as well as the bullets from exiting the back of their skulls. The only blood was that which trickled down from the two entry holes.
Both fell to the floor behind the counter.
Luke walked around to the other side, then bent over the man’s body. His keys were attached to his belt, and Luke pulled them off, not caring in the slightest about fingerprints. The world knew he was back, and his visit with Christian certainly wouldn’t be anonymous.
A hotel master key was on the ring, a plastic card that would allow entry into any of the guest rooms.
Luke dragged the two bodies inside a back room, shutting the door as he left. He went through the computer, finding Christian and Tommy’s rooms with ease, then rode the elevator to their floor.
Luke went to Tommy’s room first. He placed the key against the scanner and saw the green light flash. He entered the room but didn’t bother closing the door softly. It shut with a smooth clang.
Tommy’s scent was heavy in the room and Luke breathed it in, memories from years of work coming back to him immediately—similar to how a meal might remind someone of their mother.
“Christian? Anne?”
The voice was soft, like a person whispering to their lover. It came from the bedroom and Luke followed it.
“No, Tommy. Not Christian. It’s me. Who is Anne, your nurse?”
He found the bedroom; the blinds were closed and the lights off, but he could still see Tommy.
The wheelchair was next to the bed where Tommy lay on his back, propped up to ensure that he could breathe properly throughout the night.
“I take it Anne is the woman I saw traveling with you. Did she put you in bed?”
Tommy said nothing.
“You wish you could move right now, don’t you? To that gun sitting on the nightstand, which is as useless … well, as an FBI field agent without control of his limbs.” Luke moved to the bed, slightly pushing the wheelchair out of the way. He stood over Tommy. “Would you like me to turn the light on?”
No response, but Luke turned the knob on the wall. Tommy’s eyes squinted at first, but Luke saw them focus directly on his.
“Hey, partner,” Luke said. He reached forward and touched Tommy’s forehead with the back of his hand, like a mother checking a child’s temperature. “How are you doing?”
“I’m going to kill you. I promise.”
“I’m sorry about your fiancée, Alice. It had to be done, though.”
Tears were in Tommy’s eyes. Watery pools of rage.
“There are bigger things at play here, Tommy. Bigger than you and me, bigger than her. It’s a war that must be fought, and there will be casualties. They can’t be avoided.�
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“Luke.” Tommy paused, his chest hitching up and down, his voice full of desperation. “I’m going to kill you. I will watch you when you take your last breath.”
“Maybe. But not tonight. Do you think of her often, Tommy? Do you think of making love to her? Do you think of holding her while you watched movies? I bet you do.”
Tommy said nothing.
“Ah, well, I just wanted to say hello. I’m not done with you yet; the war is just beginning.”
The two former partners stared at each other for a few seconds and then Luke turned the light off. He exited the hotel room in silence.
Moving briskly down the hallway, he found Christian’s room. He would need to move more quickly here, as Christian still had control over his body. He flashed the key against the sensor, saw green, and opened the door. Stepping inside, he moved to shut the door silently behind him, but felt the wind of someone moving close by. He raised both arms immediately, putting his closed fists together and forming an ‘L’ shape in front of his face like a boxer.
The gun’s metal slammed into him, pain ricocheting up Luke’s forearms. He made no sound, every sense focused on the next movement. The gun again swung at his head; Luke ducked, his eyes finally finding the assailant. Luke’s fist snapped out like a viper, catching Christian in the stomach, causing him to bend at the waist. Another punch to Christian’s nose, bone crunching beneath Luke’s knuckles.
His old partner was still on his feet; Luke straightened himself and with a god’s righteousness, brought down his left fist across Christian’s face.
He collapsed to the ground, the gun falling beside him.
CHRISTIAN SQUEEZED HIS EYES TOGETHER. He couldn’t breathe out of his nose and his entire face felt like a lake of pain. He tried to sniff, but his sinuses lit on fire when he did.
Christian opened his eyes and saw a lamp on to the right, slightly illuminating the hotel room. Luke sat in a chair directly across from him, holding Christian’s weapon; it hung lazily from his right hand. Luke had one leg crossed over the other, looking as patient as the Buddha.
