by Blake Dixon
He barely recognized Gary Noakes in that ugly, twisted tone.
With a sigh, Jude lowered his arms and let the Beretta clatter to the floor. “Wait, don’t tell me,” he said. “You want me to kick it away.”
“Smart man. Do it.”
He obliged, punting the Beretta across the slick tiled kitchen floor and onto the polished wood of the front hallway. Something Ray Rubin said occurred to him, and he had a feeling it applied to this situation. If you were going to shoot me, you would’ve done it already.
Noakes was ex-Army, and Jude had just killed a bunch of his buddies. But he hadn’t shot him on sight. The man wanted to taunt him first.
“Turn around,” Noakes said.
He did so slowly, his hands up. “You do know I’m not alone, right?”
“You are now,” Noakes said with a manic grin.
His gut clenched, but he refused to believe they’d taken Kane down. “Fine,” he said. “I don’t need him to take you out.”
“Take me out? You were hired to work for me, Mr. Country Club Buddy. Or private investigator, CIA agent, whatever you are.”
“No. I was hired to find your daughter.” He turned his wrist and pointed at the floor. “Found her.”
“Nice work. Except she’s not my daughter,” Noakes sneered. “She’s—”
“Bromwell’s. I know.” Keep him talking. Find an opening. If Kane was still alive, he wasn’t coming yet. “So what was the play here, genius?” he said. “Because I’m not seeing how ransoming yourself out of the race is such a brilliant idea.”
Noakes laughed. It was a cold, shrill sound, like rain on the windows. “That wasn’t exactly the plan,” he said. “That first video? It was meant for Bromwell. Kind of a double-duty message — guess what, you’re the little brat’s father, and by the way she’s going to die if you don’t drop out of the race.” He shrugged. “But then my idiotic slut of a wife found the video, and I had to run with it.”
The way he talked about his own family was chilling. “And the ransom demand? The ten million?” Jude said.
“Changing the M.O. Screwing up the chance of a legal case. I am an attorney, you know,” he said. “Besides, I figured I might as well get some money out of this, since that bitch fucked me out of a daughter. Literally.”
“Valerie doesn’t know she’s not your daughter. She never had to know.”
His grin was a block of ice. “She knows now.”
Jude swallowed against the sick fury rising in his throat. “I’m going to kill you,” he said, as calmly as if he were discussing the rain outside. “Very soon.”
“No, you’re not. I’ll tell you what’s going to happen.” Noakes gestured slightly with the gun. “I’m going to put a bullet in your chest,” he said. “Then I’ll wipe the gun down, put it in your dead hand and squeeze off a shot. It’s going to hit me. Just a graze, though.” He stepped back slightly with a serene smile. “You and your friend will be the kidnappers, and I’ll be the hero who rescued my daughter. They’ll eat that shit up. I’ll win the governor’s office in a landslide.”
“Interesting change of plans,” Jude said. “I’ve got one, too.”
Noakes opened his mouth. Probably to make a sarcastic remark.
Jude grabbed his gun hand and bent back sharply, breaking his wrist before he could get a shot off. As the gun dropped on the tiles, he shoved the arm aside and looped a fist square into the man’s face. Heard the crunch as his nose broke.
He slammed Noakes against the wall behind him. The man thumped down on his ass, and Jude pulled his backup weapon. The one with a single bullet left. “Here’s my plan,” he snarled. “I’ll rescue the little girl. And you’ll die.”
A faint creak to his left called his attention. He glanced aside, and something loosened in his chest. Kane, standing in the front hallway beyond the open door, dripping all over the hardwood. “I guess you’ve got things handled in here,” the man said.
“Yeah. Just about to take out the trash.” His gaze didn’t leave Noakes.
Kane was coming toward him, taking in the scene. “Hold on, Boy Scout,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’re really going to shoot an unarmed man.”
Noakes heard him and laughed, a horrible sound that foghorned through his broken nose. “Of course he’s not,” he said. “Isn’t that right, Wyland? You’re a CIA agent. You have rules.” The district attorney pressed a shaking hand to his upper lip, trying to stem the blood. “You have to arrest me,” he said. “And I’ll win. Father saving his daughter from kidnappers would’ve gotten me plenty of votes … but father saving his daughter, only to be arrested by the CIA in the process? Hell, I’ll make fucking president that way.” His eyes glittered madly as he looked up at Jude. “Go ahead. Arrest me.”
“Fine. You have the right to remain silent. Allow me to help you with that.”
Jude pulled the trigger. The front of Noakes’ skull caved in, fragmented, and a burst of pulp and bone splinter blossomed in the air to rain down over his face.
“Have I told you that I hate politicians?” he said.
“Damn,” Kane drawled. “Guess you’re not such a boy scout after all.”
“Yeah, I might be missing a few merit badges. Compassion toward scumbags, for one.”
“There’s a badge for that?”
“Sure, why not?” He lowered the gun slowly, wishing he could shoot the son of a bitch a few more times for good measure. But that wouldn’t look so great on the report. “I noticed you’re not dead.”
“Same to you.”
Jude holstered his gun and jerked his head toward the wooden door. “Pretty sure that’s the basement,” he said.
“Looks like.”
“Should we go down there?”
“You should.” Kane held a hand out. “Give me your phone, though, so I can get Moore and her people out here to clean up. Mine kind of exploded.”
He handed the phone over with a slight frown. “You sure?” he said. “We can both go get her. This was a team effort.”
“Maybe, but this time you get the girl.” Kane smiled. “Go on. Save her.”
He could do that.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Amy.
It was black in the stairwell leading down to the basement. Jude reached in, felt for a light switch and found one to the right of the door. The light from the bare bulb above the stairs seemed dirty, like a secret.
He took the creaking wooden steps with care. He could hear her down there, sobbing somewhere in the dark. Trying to muffle the sound so they wouldn’t hurt her anymore. All the activity and the gunfire up here must have terrified her.
I’m coming, Amy.
He made himself focus, beat back the memories. The bitter helplessness. This time, he’d won. He reached the bottom of the stairs, more darkness, and started searching for another light. “Valerie,” he called softly. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here to help you.”
She whimpered, a wounded animal sound. Just once.
Another switch by the stairwell. He flipped it up, blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. This was some kind of family room — couch, chair, coffee table, television. Box of toys. Velcro dart game on the wall. An overflowing ash tray on a side table, crushed beer cans littering the floor. No little girl in plain sight.
But there was a door at the back of the room, standing ajar on a sliver of blackness.
He made his way there. “Valerie?” he said, keeping his tone gentle as he reached for the light switch beside the door. “Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’m going to turn the light on.”
If she heard him, she didn’t respond.
He waited thirty seconds, and then flicked the switch. A choked sob drifted from behind the door. He pushed it open slowly, slipped inside.
Valerie huddled on the floor in the far corner of the cement-walled room, her wrists and ankles bound with rope. When she caught sight of him, she cringed and tried to scuttle back, pressing herself into the angle of the walls. She didn�
�t make a sound as she pushed her face against her bent knees.
“It’s okay, Valerie,” he rasped as his throat tried to clench shut. “You’re safe now, I promise. I’m here to take you home.”
She trembled all over, raised her head slowly. Tears streamed from her green eyes and streaked through the grime on her face. “Are you my real daddy?” she whispered.
His heart shattered somewhere around his feet, and he dropped to a knee in front of her. “No, sweetheart, I’m not,” he said. “I’m … the police.” She was too young to understand ‘CIA agent.’ “We’re going to get you home to your mommy.”
The little girl sniffled and regarded him with big, blank eyes. “My daddy said he’s not my daddy. He said my real daddy had to save me, or I could never go home.”
“Honey, your daddy is very sick,” Jude said. “He was confused.”
She started trembling again. “Can I really go home now?”
“Yes, you can.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Let’s get these ropes off you.” Jude reached for his knife, paused. No doubt the sight of a weapon would scare her even more. “Valerie, I have a knife. But I’m only going to use it to cut the ropes,” he said. “Is that okay?”
She gave a tearful nod.
He parted her bonds as fast as possible. The skin beneath was rubbed raw, bleeding in places. She shivered out a sigh when he removed the last rope and stared at him. “What about the beast man?” she said in a tiny voice. “Sometimes he’s out there. He doesn’t like it when I …” She trailed into a full-body shudder.
He managed an encouraging smile. “The beast man is gone.”
Valerie Noakes threw her too-thin arms around his neck, buried her face in his shirt and burst into tears.
He stood with her, carefully. Carried her out of her prison. Across the family room, toward the stairs leading to freedom. “Don’t look, sweetheart,” he said as he started up the stairs. “Don’t look until we get outside, okay? I’ll tell you when.”
She nodded fiercely against him, her face still pressed to his shirt.
Amy … I’m so sorry.
But this was Valerie. And she was going to make it.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Jude and Kane leaned on Natalie’s sedan, watching the ambulance pull away with flashing lights, wailing siren, and Valerie Noakes buttoned up safely in the back. The agent in charge was a few yards away, making phone calls and shouting instructions to her team.
She had yet to go off on the two of them, but she would. Soon.
“You should be in one of those,” Jude said, nodding at the retreating ambulance. “That bullet didn’t exactly graze you.”
Kane smirked. “I already dug the bullet out waiting on your slow ass,” he said. “Found some bandages in that sick fucker’s bathroom, too. Helped myself. He wasn’t gonna need them.”
“So you’re saying you’re fine.”
“Couldn’t be finer.”
“All right, then.” Jude folded his arms and looked off into the woods. Several miles of woods, with this place the only building around. “By the way, this is me turning my back and releasing you into the wild,” he said in a low voice.
Kane stared at him. “It’s what, now?”
“Go,” he said. “I promised you that, and you held up your end of the bargain.”
“Nah. I’m good right here.”
Jude frowned. “You need to leave, Garrett,” he said. “If you come back to the field office, Director Boyd is going to arrest you. And it doesn’t sound like he’ll ever let you out of prison.”
“Funny, isn’t it?” Kane shook his head, scuffed a foot on the ground. “I was ready,” he said. “From the minute I walked out of that hotbox, I’ve been ready to rabbit. I can live like that, in hiding. Never be found. But then, something happened.”
“What?”
“Some pain in my ass convinced me that I’m not a monster,” he said. “And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being hunted down like one.”
The statement was bittersweet. Kane had rediscovered his humanity, his life — but if he wanted to keep it, he’d have to give it up again. “So you’ll spend the rest of your life in a metal box instead,” Jude said. “Good plan.”
“Ahh, no. Federal prison. Bars, not boxes.” Kane cast a gaze across the woods, the freedom he was refusing to take. One corner of his mouth lifted. “Besides, I have a partner who’s going to get me out of there the right way.”
Jude fought a smile. “You do?”
“Yeah. He’s a bit of a boy scout sometimes, but he gets the job done.”
“Sounds like a fine man.”
Kane looked him up and down. “Not presently.”
“Hey. Morons,” a voice cut in. Natalie stood a few feet away, one hand on her hip. “Get in the goddamned car,” she said. “We’re going back to the office, and you’re going to tell me everything on the way. Starting with why the hell you didn’t call me before you came out here.”
Kane raised a hand. “My phone blew up,” he said. “I don’t know what Wyland’s excuse is, though. He probably doesn’t have one.”
“Shut up and get in the car.”
“Fine. I call shotgun.”
Jude shook his head and watched him circle the front of the sedan. The half-hour back to Norfolk was going to feel like a long damned time.
Chapter Forty-Nine
The snacks and water bottles in the conference room were a nice touch, but Jude had been hoping for a stiff drink. From the looks of Kane, that had been his wish too.
“Okay. Stop me if I’m wrong about any of this insanity,” Natalie said. She was sitting at the head of the table, with Kane to her right. Jude had taken the chair across from him. A file folder Natalie hadn’t mentioned yet rested at the far end. “Gary Noakes found out that Valerie wasn’t his biological daughter. He hired Vault Security to kidnap her and planned to threaten Bromwell into withdrawing from the governor candidacy. Enter video one. But then Dottie Noakes saw the video, and Gary decided to change the plan, throw in a monetary ransom and make himself a hero by ‘rescuing’ Valerie.”
“Yeah, that’s about it,” Jude said.
“And Rubin? What the hell did he have to do with this?”
“Near as I can figure, he hired me because you wouldn’t back off the Black Strings angle. You were getting too close to his game. He wanted Bromwell in the governor’s office — a weak candidate he could manipulate and keep away from the merc operation.”
“Right. But then you…?”
“Didn’t back off as far as he wanted,” Jude said, glancing at Kane. “So when I insisted on bringing Kane in to get at the mercs, Rubin pulled a one-eighty and tried to bribe Kane into killing me by accident.”
“I don’t do accidents,” Kane put in. “When I kill somebody, I mean it.”
Jude smirked at him. “Not helping.”
“It’s not? Well, I thought it was a salient point.”
“You’d make a terrible lawyer, Kane.”
Natalie cleared her throat loudly. “Anyway,” she said. “You found all this out about the girl because of Bromwell’s eyes and an envelope you saw at the Noakes place. That’s what you’re telling me.”
“And a few dizzying leaps of logic.” He shrugged. “Also, I may or may not have threatened a receptionist.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry. She probably won’t sue the department.”
“Wyland—”
Just then the door to the conference room opened and Director Boyd walked in, looking stiffer and frownier than usual. “Agent Wyland. Mr. Kane,” he said. “I understand you’re to be congratulated.”
Kane stared coldly at him. “Try to shake my hand and I’ll snap every bone in yours, shirt,” he said. “But I will accept a medal, or possibly a parade.”
“Mr. Kane, I’ve already informed you of your reward.” A faint sneer of distaste flickered across the director’s face. “Are you goi
ng to come quietly?”
He pushed his chair back and stood like a shot, smiling when the older man flinched. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m coming.”
“You’re not taking him anywhere, Director Boyd.”
Everyone stared at Natalie as she rose and circled the table to pick up the file folder. “This is a signed report from Raymond Rubin, detailing the conditions of Mr. Kane’s undercover assignment with the Black Strings. It states that he has full deniability and carte blanche Agency permission covering any and all crimes committed over the course of the assignment.” She stopped in front of the director and slapped the folder against his chest. “I pulled it from Rubin’s private drive here at the office. The report predates the so-called official non-deniability contract in the general file. And this one bears Mr. Kane’s signature.”
Director Boyd looked coldly at her as he got hold of the folder. “If this report can be verified, I’ll consider an early release for Mr. Kane. But right now—”
“What’s more, you literally can’t arrest him, Director,” Natalie shot back. “When Mr. Kane’s assignment ended, Rubin initiated the black directive. Scrubbed every one of his civilian records, all the way back to his birth certificate.” Her smile was poisonously sweet. “You can’t process a man who doesn’t exist.”
The director sputtered and blinked rapidly. “I’ll find a way,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere, Mr. Kane. I’m taking you into custody.” With that, he spun and walked swiftly from the room, slamming the door behind him.
“He won’t find anything,” Natalie said before turning back to the table. She took her seat calmly, folded her hands. “Now. Where were we?”
Kane arched an eyebrow. “I don’t recall signing a report that detailed the conditions of my assignment,” he said. “Full deniability or otherwise.”
“Well, maybe you didn’t,” she said. “Maybe I have a degree in forensic digital imagery and a certain talent for programming and manipulation, and maybe the indisputable, properly dated proof that Rubin is a lying sack of shit appeared on his private server very recently. As in, a few hours ago.”
