“Good,” Alex said. “And their pay?”
“They’ll be paid next month,” Raz said. “After that, our contact in accounting said she’d look into what she can do.”
Alex gave a grim nod.
“Let it play out,” Raz said. “And you know . . .”
He sighed and looked down at her head. Feeling his eyes, she sat up.
“We’ve fought so fucking hard to be a part of this . . . thing — whatever it is,” Raz said. “Maybe it’s time to stop fighting.”
“You’re going back to fat and hairy?” Alex asked.
Raz laughed at her original assessment of him all those years ago.
“I thought it was too dangerous to have me out of the military,” Alex said.
“After today?” Raz shook his head. “I’d say let’s take our chances. We have enough money to live very comfortably for the rest of our lives. We have people to love and, by some miracle, they love us back. We have children and, God willing, more to come. We have a home, good friends, and more than enough material possessions. What else do we really need?”
“Great work?” Alex asked. “You know how you get when you don’t have a puzzle to work on.”
“After spending time with Admiral Ingram, I’d be willing to chance it,” Raz said.
“We could become private detectives,” Alex said with a grin, subtly chiding him for his addiction to Sherlock Holmes. “I’d let you be Holmes.”
“How ’bout Marlowe?” Raz asked. “You could be Charles?”
“Nick?” Alex asked brightening.
“Aren’t you a lanky brunette with a wicked jaw?” he asked.
She grinned her reply.
“I’ll call you Nora,” Raz said.
Alex laughed, and he smiled.
“And you’ll be Phillip Marlowe?” Alex asked.
“I was thinking Sam Marlowe,” Raz said with a grin.
“Ah,” Alex said. “Inspiration to Chandler and Hammett. Good thinking.”
Alex nodded. For a moment, their levity hung in the air like a cloud. He sighed. She watched strong emotions move across his face.
“When we watched the video today, I was . . . I was . . . right there,” Raz said in a hoarse whisper. “Again. I’ve thought about it — the moment of finding you — and . . . and . . . I’ve thought about it a lot. At first, I saw it every time I closed my eyes. Then, at least once a day. Lately, it comes to mind every other week or so. After a year or two, after you were back to work, the whole mess became something . . .over there. Not right here, but over there. Something that happened — like my mother’s death or 9/11 or the end of my NFL career. I learned to live with it. And I’ve watched you, helped you, dragged you, bullied you through . . . unspeakable . . .for years . . .”
“Five,” Alex said.
“Five years of running, hiding, fighting,” Raz said. “Five years of one attack after another. I’ve watched you crawl out of the blood — and shit for what? For this? To be treated like . . . by that . . . piece of garbage.”
He snorted a laugh.
“‘Negro son of an uneducated housekeeper’ my ass,” Raz said with a shake of his head. His grey eyes welled with tears. “That’s a decent description of me.”
“I . . .” Raz shook his head again. “If you ask me, I will get out of this bed, and we will go after those who have dared to come for us. But to tell you the truth? I’m done. I’m just done. I’d rather be the negro son of my amazing, wonderful, beloved uneducated housekeeper mother than . . .”
He swallowed hard and stared at the wall.
“That,” he said softly.
“Me, too,” Alex whispered. “Me, too.”
She leaned forward. In her a gesture usually reserved for her identical twin, Max, she pressed her forehead against his. She kissed his tear-stained cheek.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For being a total fucking mess?” he asked with a wry laugh.
“For being there,” Alex said. “I am so grateful, so, so grateful, for you.”
He put his hand on the back of her head, and their foreheads pressed together again.
“I don’t know how to do it,” Alex said.
“Do what?” Raz asked.
“Quit,” Alex said.
“Maybe we start by giving up for tonight,” Raz said. “Tomorrow, we can put our armor back on, pick up our swords, and fight a new day. If we want to. Only if we want to. Maybe we wait a week or a month or a year. But tonight?”
“But tonight, we eat biscuits and pot pie,” Alex said with a smile. “The peppermint tea smells fantastic.”
“Mac and cheese looks divine,” he said.
“We need to check in,” Alex said. “John and Sami are dying to know what happened. Plus, we don’t want to miss bedtime.”
“Later,” Raz said. “After we eat.”
“We’re three hours ahead here,” Alex nodded. “Don’t forget.”
“I won’t,” Raz said. “Did I mention the honey butter?”
Alex smiled. He wiped his face with his hands and stared at the wall again. After a moment, he glanced at her.
“If anything is worth living for, it’s got to be honey butter,” she said. “Honey from their hives.”
“Butter from their cows,” Raz said. He made the effort to grin at her. “Grady told me he made the butter this afternoon.”
She held the butter knife out to him. His eyes flicked to her face, where they lingered. She raised her eyebrows, and he gave her a genuine smile. He grabbed the butter knife from her with exaggerated effort and slathered their biscuits with honey butter. Grinning at him, Alex poured the tea.
F
CHAPTER SIX
Tuesday morning
October 11 — 5:11 a.m. EST
Harkers Island, North Carolina
“What are you thinking?” the Mister asked.
Alex turned to look at him. He held out a ceramic mug full of dark coffee and fresh cream. She looked into his face. As intelligence operators, he and Mammy had lived under so many names that “real” names didn’t mean much. Everyone who knew this man personally, including his children, called him the “Mister” to his beloved wife’s “Mammy.” He moved the cup, and she took it.
“I’m not sure,” Alex said. “Everything. Nothing.”
She lifted a shoulder in a kind of shrug.
“Jesse here?” the Mister asked.
Alex shook her head. She hadn’t seen Jesse since the garden at the Pentagon. She’d gotten up this morning to see if she could call him. He did not appear. She missed him in a deep, private way that even she could not understand. Rather than say anything, she took a long drink of her coffee.
“Everything and nothing?” the Mister asked.
“One day, not so many years ago, I was a Sergeant on Charlie’s team,” Alex said. “I know that you know this, but my team was just finishing up. We had six more months together before Charlie retired.”
“Didn’t think you’d be here in five years?” the Mister asked.
“That’s an understatement,” Alex said with a wry grin.
“Humor me,” the Mister said. “Where did you think you’d be?”
“I wasn’t sure. I had a lot of offers,” Alex said with a nod. “I had been approached by every intelligence agency in the US and most of Europe. I thought I’d have my own biological children, at least two, maybe three; John wanted somewhere between five and fifteen children. I figured we’d probably live in Washington, DC. Maybe I’d work for Dad or for Congress’s intelligence committee.”
“Would you still be a field agent?” the Mister asked.
“It’s in my blood,” Alex said. “At the very least, I figured I’d teach, maybe at Fort Carson. Certainly at Fort Bragg. I’d been asked no fewer than ten times.”
The Mister nodded. He leaned back in his chair and drank his coffee. Alex followed his lead. They sat in quiet companionship with the pre-dawn.
“You were wanted,” the Mis
ter said. He looked into his empty cup and scowled. “Needed.”
“I couldn’t imagine that would ever end,” Alex said. “Why would it? I kept up with new technology, stayed on top of changes in the military and the intelligence world; plus, mostly everyone liked me.”
She turned her head to look at him. His eyes spoke of his sorrow and concern for her. He got up just as Grady came out with an insulated pot. Without saying a word, Grady gave the pot to his father and retreated into the house. The Mister poured Alex another cup of coffee and one for himself. They fell into the morning silence again. After a while, the Mister sighed.
“It is hard to understand how you could go from being the most important asset in US intelligence to someone not worthy of a pension,” the Mister said.
“You heard the tapes,” Alex said.
“Watched them,” the Mister said. “Those from the Pentagon and everything from the Chinook.”
He turned to look at Alex.
“Why do you suppose he threw up?” the Mister asked.
“I’m not sure he didn’t fake the whole thing to lull us into thinking he was a human being,” Alex said.
“That occurred to me, as well,” the Mister said. “Turns out there’s a video camera in your toilet. Have you seen that?”
With the cup to her lips, she shook her head.
“And?” Alex asked after swallowing.
“He definitely threw up,” the Mister said. “He clutched himself. He rocked back and forth for a full minute and twenty-three seconds. I checked. Then, as if it never happened, he washed his face and left the toilet.”
“That is weird,” Alex said. “I was sitting with him and didn’t pick up any emotion from him. Certainly not that kind of extreme emotion.”
“Admiral Ingram is a complicated man,” the Mister said. “Any ideas about who he ‘promised’?”
“To watch the videos?” Alex shook her head. “Nathan’s mother comes to mind, but it’s more likely just part of pretending not to be a psychopath. My guess is that if we figure out who his father was, we’ll find a psychopath.”
“So cynical.” The Mister shook his head. “You surprise me.”
“Just growing up, sir,” Alex said.
The Mister laughed. Grinning, Alex looked out into their fall garden. A wooden screen door slapped against the frame of the side door when Mammy’s daughter came out of the kitchen. She fussed with an mp3 player as she sauntered in the direction of the chicken coop. After a moment, she began to sing “Glory, Glory.” They watched her for a moment before turning back to the garden.
“Why do you suppose he threw up?” Alex asked.
“The cynic in me thinks like you do,” the Mister said. “I have a nagging thought, or maybe it’s wishful thinking, that he’s playing a part. He was fast-tracked to Admiral. He doesn’t really have the field experience to be in charge of Spec Ops. A lot of high-ranking people have expressed concern about his lack of battle experience — both in the field and as a leader. Then, there’s the fact that the Admiral supported Ingram as his replacement.”
“That’s what gets me,” Alex said. “If the Admiral thought I was full of shit or should retire, why didn’t he tell me himself? I’ve had numerous private conversations with him this year. At each one, he indicated he supported me and the team one hundred percent. He could have easily told me to retire or that I had lost my mind or . . .”
Alex shook her head.
“Feels like a betrayal,” the Mister said with a nod.
“I don’t want to think it,” Alex said, “but I keep finding knives in my back.”
“Have you spoken to the Admiral?” the Mister asked.
“I’ve tried,” Alex said with a shrug. “On the way here.”
“And?” the Mister asked.
“He was in a meeting with Admiral Ingram,” Alex said.
She twisted in her seat to pull an imaginary knife out of her back. He shook his head at her antics.
“He didn’t call when he was done with the meeting?” the Mister asked. Alex shook her head. “I see what you mean.”
The wooden screen from the side door slapped against the frame when Cliff, Zack’s co-pilot, came out. He jogged toward the barn.
“Hey!” Mammy’s youngest son ran out after him.
The screen door banged again. The young men laughed their way toward the barn. Alex and the Mister watched them until the barn door shut.
“Cows?” Alex asked.
“Two. Need milking,” the Mister said. He cleared his throat. “We were each assigned our tasks this morning.”
“Oh? Am I your task?” Alex asked.
“I have been assigned the task of asking you what you want to do,” the Mister said.
“About?” Alex asked.
“You know, I taught your father that trick,” the Mister said with a grin.
“You taught my father which trick?” Alex asked.
She grinned when the Mister laughed. Mammy’s daughter walked back toward the kitchen carrying a basket full of eggs. Singing softly, Mammy’s daughter nodded to them before she went into the kitchen.
“She has a lovely voice,” Alex said.
“And a singing scholarship to Yale,” the Mister said.
“Under what name?” Alex asked.
“What a funny question. Why do you ask?” the Mister grinned.
Alex laughed. He turned his head to look at her.
“You should know that the Air Force Chief is screaming about Zack and Cliff’s resignation. He pitched a fit in Admiral Ingram’s office last night. Zack’s agreed to spend the rest of the year on a U-2. He’s supposed to leave tonight. Cliff has refused reassignment. He’s out.”
Alex raised her eyebrows with interest.
“Did you know Cliff was loaded?” the Mister asked.
Alex nodded.
“I didn’t expect him just to quit,” Alex said. “He’s young and has a whole career ahead of him.”
“He told Mammy that he had never planned to be career military,” the Mister said. “But when Zack picked him, and then he was on the Fey Team, he decided to stay. Now, given the chance, the, uh, ‘Kid’ has things he wants to do with his life.”
“Like what?” Alex asked.
“Climb mountains, I think,” the Mister said. “I didn’t hear the whole thing. He did say that he would have stayed as long as you needed him. He will return if you ever asked.”
“He’s a good kid,” Alex said.
She squinted at the garden and wondered if she should tell the Mister about Cliff’s relationship with his daughter. Deciding against it, she gave the Mister a slight smile. They fell silent while they watched the morning again. Alex shifted in her seat.
“I don’t know,” Alex said.
“You don’t know what?” the Mister asked.
“What I want to do,” Alex said. “I don’t know.”
The Mister grinned. Alex reached out and touched his arm. He turned his head to look at her.
“Listen,” Alex said in a low voice. “Except for Joseph, every single person I’ve worked with five years ago has been killed in some horrific and violent way — all of my Fey Special Forces teammates, Jesse, The Boy Scout . . . They came for Colonel Gordon, my parents . . .”
“Sergeant Flagg,” the Mister said.
“Heath,” Alex said. “Raz, Max, Troy, me again and again.”
She nodded and removed her hand from his arm.
“I keep thinking,” Alex said in a stronger voice, “if we had quit before . . . even one hour before, the guys would still be alive, and maybe I . . .”
She sniffed as if to suck her words back into her mouth. The Mister watched her face.
“What if this is our moment?” Alex asked after a moment.
“What do you mean?” the Mister asked.
“What do I mean?” Alex said to herself. She scowled and collected her thoughts. “Um.”
She scowled again and looked at the Mister for a moment. Making
a decision to be honest, she nodded.
“Something was wrong with Charlie the last six months or so that we were together as a team,” Alex said. “Maybe longer. Certainly, it got worse when Joseph left for paternity leave. Even he noticed it.”
“Who noticed it?” the Mister asked.
“Joseph,” Alex said. She sighed. Under her breath, she added, “What am I saying?”
She fell silent while she thought it through.
“I’ve spent a fair amount of time trying to figure out what Charlie knew, what made him so anxious,” Alex said. “Not a ton of time, nor have I ever asked Raz or anyone else to look into it, although I suppose I could do that now. I’ve just . . . When the opportunity has presented itself, I’ve looked, asked, thought about it, read, asked people . . .”
She looked at the Mister.
“I read Charlie’s journals, for example,” Alex said. “We don’t have all of them, but I have a few.”
“And?”
“There’s no mention of anything unusual,” Alex said. “Nothing. Yet, he was weird our last year.”
“You’ve said before that you thought it was The Boy Scout,” the Mister said.
“Sure,” Alex said. “And that’s as likely as anything else.”
“But?”
“What did Charlie know?” Alex asked. “Was Charlie retiring because he was pushed out? After today, that’s probably a better question. Did they give him the opportunity they’re giving me? You know, retire now or we’ll . . . I don’t know what. Or did they just kill everyone? Save the tax payers from having to pay our pensions.”
“What?” Surprised, the Mister leaned forward in his rocking chair to look at her.
Alex responded by nodding.
“Maybe Charlie was supposed to retire earlier,” Alex said. “Charlene doesn’t know if the military pushed Charlie out; I’ve asked. She did say that she was surprised when he brought up the idea of retiring. He loved his work and our team. He’d talked about continuing in the military for another ten years or more. He was healthy and well-liked by his command. Charlene said that the idea of retirement came out of the blue, but Charlie was prone to change directions in his life on a moment’s notice. So . . . I mean, Charlene wasn’t surprised by his change of heart. They’d certainly talked about retiring over the years. So why should I make a fuss about it? I just wonder . . .”
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