I continue forward, stepping over Carla’s dead body, and head deeper into the tunnel.
Fifty-Four
I hustle through the tunnel, staying as quiet as I can, and soon hear unsteady footsteps ahead.
I shout, “Hayward!”
The footsteps pause for a beat, then start again, this time frantically. It sounds like Hayward stumbles, falls to the ground, picks himself up and keeps running.
I pick up my pace.
The tunnel curves once more, and then straightens out. I can see the end farther ahead, maybe seventy yards away. Like the entrance on the United States side, it dead-ends to a ladder. The trapdoor must be open, because bright light pours into the tunnel.
Oliver Hayward is maybe fifty yards away. With the light beyond him, he makes for an easy target. I could put him down with one simple squeeze of the trigger. But I don’t. I let him hurry forward and scramble up the ladder.
By the time I climb up the ladder, Hayward hasn’t gotten far. He stands motionless with his hands raised, a half-dozen federales aiming their guns at him. The moment my head pops up through the trapdoor, a few of the men shift their guns toward me, but an older man with a mustache tells them to ignore me, and they immediately aim again at Hayward.
This section of the tunnel opens up into a garage. Cinderblock walls, cheap roofing. An old car sits off to the side. The pungent smell of motor oil hangs in the air.
Hayward says, “Don’t you know who I fucking am?”
None of the federales answer. The older man with the mustache approaches me. He holds out his hand, and speaks in English.
“I am Lieutenant Nicolás Pichardo. President Cortez ordered me and my men to be here tonight.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Did President Cortez tell you anything else?”
“President Cortez simply ordered us to come here. He said he recently learned that there is a tunnel entrance in this garage. He had us arrest the people who own this garage, and told us to take anybody who comes through this tunnel into custody.”
Hayward takes one look at me, and shouts, “Yes! Take me into custody!”
Lieutenant Pichardo ignores him.
“So far tonight nobody has come through the tunnel.”
I nod, thank the man, and turn to Oliver Hayward.
He flinches away from me, shouts at the federales.
“What the fuck are you waiting for? Arrest me!”
Again, none of the men move.
I step up close to Hayward.
“President Cortez and I agreed you should be prosecuted on our side of the border. If you’re prosecuted here, there’s a good chance the cartel would orchestrate your escape. Or your murder.”
Hayward looks past me, crazed, his eyes wide.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Oliver. These men have been ordered not to kill you. Besides, I don’t think you have it in you to do anything stupid. You know how I know? You’re not a special person. I mean, you’re the kind of person who imprisons and tortures women and children, but not the kind strong enough to attempt suicide by cop.”
He glares at me.
“Fine. Take me back.”
I smile at him, and shake my head.
“Not yet.”
I reach into my back pocket, pull out the collar I had worn the past two days. I toss it on the ground at Hayward’s feet.
“Put that on.”
Fifty-Five
Agents are waiting for us up in the shed. As soon as Oliver Hayward climbs out of the tunnel, they take him into custody. They put handcuffs on him, and when I offer them the fob, tell them that it works wonders, they don’t look amused.
I follow them up to the main building. The helicopter has landed in the field. More cars and SUVs and ambulances have arrived.
Nova meets me in front of the main building. He’s talking on a cell phone, and slips it into his pocket when he spots me.
“More kids here than we expected. They kept them in the other buildings. Crisis workers are headed here as we speak.”
“Where’s Jose?”
Nova nods at one of the ambulances.
“He’s being treated.”
I look at the one side building, then the other.
“Where are the babies?”
Nova points at one of the buildings, and immediately I start moving, almost unconsciously, my pace increasing to a jog. Three of the rooms on the first floor are packed with cribs. Almost all the babies are awake and crying. A few agents move from crib to crib, taking photographs, preserving what there is of the scene before the children are taken away.
I walk up to one of the agents, incensed.
“Who’s taking care of these babies?”
The agent shakes his head.
“Nobody right now. They tell us people are on their way, but no idea how long that will take.”
I move from crib to crib, searching for Star. I find her in the second room. She isn’t crying like the other babies, but she doesn’t look happy. She stares up at me, but I’m not sure she recognizes me.
I don’t realize I’m reaching in to pick her up until a female agent steps up next to me.
“Do you know her?”
I look up, startled.
“What?”
I see the woman giving me a curious look, and shake my head.
“No, I don’t. But take care of her, okay? Take care of all of them.”
I don’t wait for a reply. I walk past the woman and head back outside. Nova’s waiting for me.
He says, “What was that about?”
I ignore the question.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For everything. For being there when I needed you. For saving my family.”
“It wasn’t just me. It was a team effort.”
“I know. I need to thank Atticus and James, too. My family”—I pause, shake my head—“I guess I thought disappearing would somehow keep them safe. But they’re not safe. They’re never going to be safe, are they?”
Nova watches me for a beat, considering.
“Atticus and I actually talked about that.”
“Talked about what?”
“Your family. A way to keep them safe.”
“How?”
“WITSEC.”
“Witness Protection? Be serious, Nova. What are they witnesses to other than what happened today?”
“Your father, for one.”
I look at Nova but say nothing. Suddenly I can’t speak.
“Your father is a rogue agent. An enemy of the state. That puts your family in danger. It’s more than enough to put them in protective custody. Only Atticus says he doesn’t have the pull to do that.”
I wet my lips, manage to find my voice.
“Then who?”
“Our old boss.”
I shake my head.
“Walter and I didn’t part on good terms.”
“That may be so, but it’s still worth looking into. Otherwise, who knows when all this might happen again?”
I look away from him, not wanting to think about it. I’d heard how close the sicario the cartels sent had gotten to my sister and nephews.
Nova clears his throat.
“It wasn’t just me and James in D.C. Somebody else was with us, too.”
There’s something about his tone I don’t like.
“Who?”
“Erik Johnson.”
At first I think I don’t hear him right, but then once I realize that’s what he said, my body tenses.
“What? How is that possible?”
“We ran into him in Alden. It’s a long story, but he came out with us to D.C. because he wanted to help. And he did help, Holly. If it wasn’t for him, your sister and nephews would be dead.”
I look around the area, at the buildings and the cars and the agents, and all of it looks surreal, like it doesn’t exist.
“What happened, Nova?”
“I didn’t want to tell you anything before all of this was
over. I knew it was better for you to be focused than to—”
I cut him off.
“Tell me what happened.”
“He was shot three times. One of the bullets hit him near his spine. The surgeons have been working on him all day. Atticus called a couple minutes ago with an update. He’s now in stable condition.”
I don’t know when it happens, exactly, but I turn away from Nova and start walking. He calls after me, saying my name, but I ignore him, and to Nova’s credit, he lets me have my space. Doesn’t follow me as I wander into the dark field. Moving as if in trance. Past the helicopter. Going farther and farther into the night. Until my foot kicks something on the ground. In the moonlight, I see it’s a large soda bottle, filled with water. One of my targets from the other day.
I turn and look back at the place Oliver Hayward calls Neverland, at the lights and the vehicles and all the agents moving about, and I think about Erik. About how I allowed myself to get close to him, and how because of that he almost got himself killed. Just like almost everybody else I come in contact with, he’s been marked by death.
I clench both hands into fists, place them over my mouth.
Fall to my knees.
Close my eyes.
And scream.
Coda
“Hello, Holly.”
“Hello, Atticus.”
“It’s good to hear your voice when it’s not during a crisis.”
“Ditto.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’ve made the right decision.”
“I know.”
“Some may say it’s the only decision you could make under the circumstances.”
“I know.”
“It’s not just your father who’s put your family in danger. It appears the cartel would like them dead as well.”
I say nothing to this. At least I had no power over my father’s decision to go rogue. As for the cartel targeting my family, I started that ball rolling when I killed Javier Diaz.
Atticus says, “I know it may not seem like it now, but your family will eventually understand.”
I touch the side of my face. It’s where Tina slapped me earlier this morning. I was there when the agents gathered my family in the room and told them the truth about my father. Not the exact truth—not about the covert stuff—but that he had faked his death, and that he was out there somewhere working with terrorists, and as long as he was out there, they were in danger.
Then the agents told my family about me. How I had been working with the government, too. How I had done something to piss off the cartel, and that the cartel now wanted to kill them as revenge.
I was standing in a side room when this happened, watching my family through a two-way mirror. Max was in Tina’s lap, while Ryan sat close to her, his arm around her shoulders, Matthew beside him. I watched my mother in her seat, staring down at her lap. Completely stunned.
At one point Tina started shouting my name. Asking where I was. Why I wasn’t there to face them. She handed Max off to Ryan as she shot her to feet, and she looked around the room, maybe for something to throw in anger, and that’s when she noticed the mirror. She stormed over to the mirror, stared straight ahead. It wasn’t quite close to me, but it was close enough.
“Are you in there, Holly? Are you there, you bitch?”
Ryan came over and walked her back to the group, trying to calm her down. The agents told them they would all be given new identities. That they would be provided with a new home, and jobs, and enough money to make sure they could get a fresh start.
I waited until the agents finished and they directed my family out into the hallway. I knew I should have stayed away, but I stepped out as they walked past. I saw my mother first. She made eye contact, but then quickly looked away.
Tina charged at me.
“What the fuck, Holly? What the fuck?”
One of the agents tried to hold her back, but he wasn’t fast enough. Tina slapped me, just the one time. I didn’t move, didn’t react, and watched as my family was ushered down the hallway toward their new lives.
In my ears, Atticus clears his throat.
“Are you still there?”
“I’m here.”
“Did you see Erik this morning?”
“Yes.”
“Is he doing any better?”
I think about seeing Erik last night, and this morning. He was groggy last night due to the drugs, barely remembered my visit, but this morning he had been more alert.
I sat by his bed, tried to hold his hand, but he didn’t seem to care. He just lay there, staring at the muted television, while the machines around his bed kept up their incessant beeping.
I whispered, “Thank you.”
He didn’t respond for the longest time, and when he did, he stared ahead at the TV.
“You don’t have to be here.”
I’d been shot before, had been beat up, one time stabbed, but never once had words hurt me so badly.
“I want to be here.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Erik.”
His face tensed, but still he wouldn’t look at me.
“I’m a cripple now. Might have to use a wheelchair all my life. You really want to be with a cripple?”
This wasn’t the Erik Johnson I knew. The Erik who told me about his childhood and how he ended up in Alden. The Erik who risked his life to save my sister and nephews.
This was a new Erik, one who would probably be here for a while. I couldn’t blame this new Erik. I would resent me, too.
I reached out again, took his hand in mine, squeezed it.
“I want to be with you.”
Now, standing on Independence Avenue, the Botanic Garden behind me, I watch a black SUV pull up and stop at the curb.
“Atticus, I have to go.”
“Goodbye, Holly. And good luck.”
I close the phone and slip it into my pocket as I step forward and open the back door.
General Walter Hadden sits inside. He doesn’t look at me.
I slide into the seat, close the door, and at once the SUV starts moving.
Walter doesn’t speak at first. He has an iPad in his lap, and stares straight ahead out the windshield as the driver takes us past the National Mall. He looks much older than he did when I last saw him a year ago, like he’s aged five years. I note he’s not wearing his wedding ring.
I ask, “How’s Marilyn and the kids?”
Walter looks at me for the first time.
“I would be lying if I said I thought I would ever see you again.”
“That’s sweet.”
He frowns.
“Haven’t missed your sarcasm, that’s for sure.”
I nod slowly, and take a breath.
“Can we start over? I want to thank you for what you did for my family.”
“I simply made some phone calls. You’re the one who agreed to come back to work for Uncle Sam.”
Yes, I did agree. I had no choice. Not if I wanted to make sure my family was safe. Or get a chance to track down my father and confront him one last time.
“To be honest, I’m surprised you would have me back.”
He shifts in his seat, stares out his window.
“Wasn’t my first choice. But the truth is, something’s recently come up and I could use an extra pair of eyes.”
“You already have a mission for me?”
“Less than forty-eight hours ago, while you were having your fun out in L.A., an Air Force drone pilot stole some top-secret information and flew to Germany where we believe he planned to meet with a journalist.”
“Why does this sound familiar?”
“Edward Snowden practically pulled the same stunt, only he initially went to Japan.”
“So what happened?”
“A non-sanctioned team was sent in to bring him back.”
“Your team?”
He cuts me a quick glance.
“I don’t have a team anymore. This was
a team you don’t know.”
“Okay, so what happened?”
“The team was ambushed. Three killed, but one managed to escape.”
“The drone pilot killed them?”
Walter turns on the iPad, keeps his thumb on the home button to unlock it.
“No. It was a CIA operative who intervened before the team could take the pilot.”
“How do you know it was a CIA operative?”
“Because she went dark a day before it happened. And we managed to catch her on video.”
Walter pulls up a photograph, tilts the tablet so I can see. It’s a black and white photograph, probably taken the day she entered the Agency. A young black woman with long hair.
“Her name is Alice Morgan. Thirty-three years old. Graduated from MIT, was recruited into the Agency as an analyst five years ago.”
“I thought you said she was an operative.”
“She was.”
“What kind of operative was she?”
“The kind the CIA sent in to tie up loose ends. And she was good at her job, Holly. Very good.”
“What happened to the drone pilot and journalist?”
“They’ve gone off the grid. As has Alice Morgan. That’s where you come in. I need you to fly to Germany to meet with the remaining team member. Try to figure out what the fuck happened.”
“I have one request.”
“What?”
“I’d like Nova to work with me on this.”
Walter makes a small smile, and glances out his window again.
“I like Nova. Always have. He’s a good man. Trusted. I’d bring him back in a heartbeat, but not for this.”
“Why?”
“He has a conflict.”
“What conflict?”
Walter turns back to the iPad, taps the photo of Alice Morgan.
“She’s his fiancée.”
Holly and Nova will return in Kill List
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