by Kyle Mills
“What’s the problem, then?” The cracks in Carly’s carefully constructed patience were getting wider.
Xander shrugged his crooked shoulders. “The point of contention is whether or not it’s Mason. Could just be someone who looks like him or someone you disguised to look like him.”
“Why would we—” Richard started, but Xander talked over him.
“Mason’s a fascinating guy. I have to admit that when he kept refusing to come to work for me I got pissed off and started looking into where he went when he disappeared back in the nineties. I figured he was off screwing little boys in Thailand or something.”
“And was he?” Richard said, ignoring the fact that Xander had been looking for blackmail material.
“That’s what’s fascinating. I don’t know. Despite all the money and effort I put into finding out, I came up blank. And that means someone was helping him stay underground. Someone more sophisticated than a bunch of gook pimps.”
“They hid him while he was developing his treatment.”
“I figured you’d say that.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Carly said, the volume of her voice rising. “What more evidence do you need? We’re wasting time. You have to help us. Please.”
“It’s OK,” Richard said. “He’s going to.”
Xander tilted his head a bit to the side. “Am I?”
He nodded. “The way I see it, you have everything to gain by helping us and nothing to lose but a bunch of money and power that pretty soon you won’t have much use for.”
The old man tossed Richard the prepaid phone he’d been carrying when they carjacked him and then rapped on the door with arthritic knuckles. A moment later, a guard entered and wheeled him out.
By the time the door clicked shut, Richard was already dialing. It rang long enough that he started to feel nauseous, but finally a familiar voice came on.
“Hello?”
“Are you all right?” Richard blurted. “Is Susie OK?”
“We’re both fine,” Seeger said, a hint of suspicion audible in his voice. “I called yesterday, and someone I didn’t recognize picked up. I thought you were dead.”
“Not yet.”
“What happened?”
“The plan worked right up to the part where they grabbed us,” Richard said, moving the phone far enough from his ear that Carly could listen in. “They’ve been checking out our story, and we just got our cell back. Can you put Susie on?”
“She’s asleep. I can wake her up, but she’s exhausted. This has been really hard on her. She doesn’t look that good, Richard. I’m not sure what to do.”
Carly’s expression turned a bit panicked.
“It’s OK,” Richard said, trying to keep his voice even. “Don’t wake her up. You’re giving her meds, right?”
“Hell yes, I am. Just like you told me.”
“Then there’s nothing else anyone can do. Just make sure she gets as much rest as she can.”
“Maybe I should bring her there. Xander can protect her and she could settle into a routine.”
Richard looked over at his wife. She chewed her lip nervously for a few moments before shaking her head. Obviously, she felt the same uncertainty about their host as he did.
“I’m not sure it’s safe yet,” he said. “We need you to keep her for a little longer.”
42
1,800 Miles East of Australia
May 14
Oleg Nazarov gave the steel and bronze sculpture a wide berth. It had always struck him as a bit grotesque, but after not sleeping for more than forty-eight hours it was vaguely threatening.
He had completely lost the luxuries of prioritization and delegation—he had to personally scrutinize every piece of evidence. Nothing was irrelevant, and he couldn’t trust the judgment of others knowing that the next mistake would probably be his last. It was vividly clear that the only reason he wasn’t floating along the sea floor with Chris Graden was that it would be impractical to replace him when things were unraveling so quickly.
“You bring me good news?” Karl said as the Russian approached. “You’ve found them?”
“No. I’ve come to tell you that someone is looking into our organization.”
“I don’t understand. We already know that the Dramans—”
“It’s not the Dramans. Questions are being asked about the offshore charities and accounts we’ve used to transfer money as well as about Chris Graden’s death. We also have reports of unidentified men going through the ashes of Mason’s house in Argentina.”
“Who?” Karl said. His voice was even and calm, a monotone that was so much more intimidating than the flashes of anger and frustration he’d displayed over the past weeks. So much more inhuman. “Is it the soldier? Seeger? He would have contacts—”
“No. This is at a level far higher than he would have ever operated,” Nazarov said, trying to find the courage to say aloud what he’d discovered. “It appears that the Dramans found a way to contact Andreas Xander.”
The deathlike façade that Karl had managed to regain slipped slightly. His face flushed and the muscle in his jaw twitched visibly. “Xander? Are you certain?”
Nazarov nodded. “I discovered his involvement less than an hour ago.”
In truth, it had been a bit longer than that. The old bastard was doing nothing at all to hide his involvement, but there was little reason to tell Karl this. Nazarov knew that his usefulness was under constant scrutiny and that he couldn’t afford to pass up an opportunity to demonstrate competence.
“And have you made an assessment of the threat he poses to us?”
“It’s significant. He has almost limitless resources that he can use without our overriding concern about maintaining anonymity. And he has so little time left, that we have to assume he will use those resources without reservation.”
“Then we need to get to him.”
Nazarov let out a long, quiet breath. “It would be extremely difficult. The security on his estate rivals—perhaps even exceeds—your security here. Short of aerial bombing or gas, I’m not sure what we can do to penetrate it.”
“He has to leave it sometime.”
“He drives in a heavily armed motorcade, but I agree that it’s our best opportunity. Having said that, there is no way to do this subtly. If we succeed—or even if we fail—it will be on every channel of every television in the world.”
“And if we do nothing?” Karl said. “What happens to our anonymity then?”
“Xander systematically dismantles it.”
“Then we have no choice. We’ll deal with consequences later.”
“I’ll start working on a plan immediately,” Nazarov said with a respectful bow of the head.
“And the Dramans?”
“With Xander dead, they’ll be more or less defenseless. Putting an end to that problem should be a simple matter.”
“Will it? Will it really, Oleg? Are you telling me that one day you’ll walk in here with an issue resolved instead of another disaster you weren’t able to prevent?”
Karl’s meticulously constructed serenity continued to crumble, displaying a glimpse of the man inside—something that made even the old KGB man want to step back.
Containing the Dramans had been feasible—likely even. But Nazarov knew that his ability to control Xander was nonexistent, and his ability to get to the old man was, at best, limited. It was time to start planning for the likelihood of future failures. And how he was going to survive them.
43
North of Baltimore, Maryland
May 14
Richard and Carly slid to their respective sides of the SUV’s back seat and peered out. In front of them, a man with an assault rifle was waving Xander’s limousine through the gate protecting Chris Graden’s driveway.
They followed, watching the level of activity increase as they got closer to the house. Cars were parked haphazardly at the edges of the asphalt, people were darting purposefully around the grounds,
equipment was being unloaded from trucks. They were forced to stop a good fifty yards from the portico, but Xander’s chauffeur was more determined, easing across the grass behind a man walking with what looked like a small satellite dish.
“Mr. Xander would like you to join him,” their driver said, toggling a switch that unlocked the rear doors.
They stepped out and started toward the old man as he was lowered to the ground.
The front door of the house was wide open, and the police tape that had once blocked it was now fluttering in the breeze. Above, men armed with rifles sat on the sills of the upper windows, watching the chaos below through dark sunglasses.
Xander seemed oddly energized. He brushed off the man behind him and used his withered arms to propel his chair in their direction.
“What do you think?”
“Isn’t this a crime scene?” Richard responded. “Is it legal for us to be here?”
“Legal?” he said, a coughing laugh causing his eyes to excrete something approximating tears. “People like me don’t really have to worry about legal.”
Richard saw his wife’s expression darken, and he interjected before she could start an argument about social justice or something equally unproductive. “Who are all these people, Mr. Xander?”
“Mostly former cops. I’ve always liked cops. They tend to be a flexible lot. And then there are all the acronyms you’d expect— people I hired away from the FBI, CIA, and NSA. Handy people to have around and, as you’ve noticed, well connected with the locals.”
“Having the police in your pocket is all very nice,” Carly said. “But what about the people Chris worked for?”
“What about them?”
“Isn’t it possible that they’re watching? That they know we’re here?”
“If they’ve got a problem, they should come and see how their army does against mine. They’re not up against a goddamn cook and a biologist anymore.”
It was obvious that the statement wasn’t intended as an insult—that would imply that they were actually worth insulting. It was more of a dismissal.
“Andreas!”
A fit-looking man in his early fifties appeared on the front porch, and Xander started wheeling toward him. Richard followed, but then stopped when his cell phone rang. He glanced down at it, immediately recognizing the number Burt Seeger was using.
“Hello?”
“Daddy!”
A tightness in his chest that he hadn’t realized was there dissolved at the sound of his daughter’s voice. Seeger was right, though. She sounded tired. Weak.
“How are you, sweetheart? Are you having fun?”
“Sure! We were at the beach, but not for very long, and now—”
“Susie!” he heard Seeger say. “What did we talk about?”
“Oh. Sorry. I forgot. I’m not supposed to say where we’re going. But it’s going to be super cool. Are you coming to meet us?”
Carly was leaning into the phone, listening. “We’ll try, honey.”
“Mom! Do you know what we did yesterday? We went and saw—”
“Susie!” Seeger cautioned again.
“Come on!” she said in an exasperated voice. “This secret stuff is going too far!”
They both smiled. She’d always had a mind of her own, and they encouraged her to use it. The downside was that it made her accustomed to understanding what was going on around her. They’d never been “because I said so” parents. Until now.
“How are you feeling?” Carly said.
Susie’s annoyance grew. How she was feeling tied with math as her least favorite subject. “I feel fine.”
It was a lie that no one but them would pick up on. There was a certain resonance missing from her voice—the sound of it seemed to wander, even when she was angry.
“We went today and watched some kids play on a—”
There was a jostling sound and Seeger’s voice came on. “Sorry. Obviously, we haven’t quite worked out what we’re supposed to be saying and what we’re not.”
“Oh, come on,” came their daughter’s muffled voice. “I can’t say anything. You said I can’t even talk about the weather!”
“That’s about the only thing you didn’t talk about,” Seeger said. “We’re going to practice some more tonight because you just got a D minus in talking on the phone. Now say good-bye. It’s time for your nap.”
“But we just—”
“We had an agreement, Susie. We’d watch the kids, but then you’d give me a two-hour nap.”
“I didn’t sign anything.”
“Go.”
“Good-bye!” she shouted, and they heard her footsteps fade away.
“Sorry,” Carly said into the phone. “She can be kind of a handful sometimes.”
“That’s the way kids are supposed to be. Don’t worry. I’ll get her trained on the phone thing.”
“How are you doing?” Richard said. “Are you all right? Are you safe?”
“We’re fine for the time being. How about you? Are you making any progress?”
Richard saw Carly take a nervous look around her and guessed that she was feeling about their situation the same way he was. Xander seemed to be a little out of control. It was as though he was courting a confrontation with Mason’s people—the final defiant act of a man watching the last of his vitality and power spin down the drain.
“Things are a little weird right now,” Richard said. “Would you mind keeping her a little longer?”
Over the phone, he heard a door creak and imagined Seeger walking outside. But that’s all he could do: imagine. They had no idea where he and Susie were or what they were doing. No idea if a mistake had been made that Mason’s people could use. It amplified their sense of powerlessness to a level that was almost unbearable.
“I’m getting a little worried,” Seeger said, lowering his voice. “We’re having to move around a lot, and I think it’s too much for her. Plus, she misses both of you. It’s hard for a kid her age to be separated from her parents.”
Carly’s eyes started to well up, and Richard put an arm around her.
“I’m afraid,” Seeger continued. “I’m afraid I’m going to do something—or not do something—that’s going to hurt her.”
“There’s nothing more we could do for her.”
“You’re an expert—you know what to look for if she’s…” His voice faded for a moment. “You could keep her in one place. Calm things down.”
Richard stepped out of the way of a man carrying a box full of papers and computer disks. “I don’t think I’d use the world ‘calm’ to describe our situation.”
“We trust you,” Carly managed to get out. “And we don’t hold you responsible. Just a little longer, OK?”
“OK. Fine.”
“Just keep her resting as much as you can. And make sure she takes her meds.”
“About that. We’re running out of some of them.”
“Carly gave you copies of all the prescriptions. Not all pharmacies stock some of them, so you might have to call ahead. But you won’t have any problems.”
“All right. Look, I’ve got to go. We’ve already been here too long. We’ll try to give you a call tomorrow, but don’t worry if we don’t. I’m not sure we’ll have a signal.”
44
North of Baltimore, Maryland
May 14
Chris Graden’s normally immaculate house had taken a serious beating from Xander’s men. Disassembled phones and lamps were dangling from their cords, heating grates had been tossed carelessly on priceless rugs, and most of the furniture was overturned. Richard wasn’t sure what they were looking for, but it if it was there, he was willing to bet it would be found.
They tracked down Xander in an enormous room that Chris opened only for large parties. He was tapping nervously on the arm of his wheelchair as he spoke to the man who had called out to him on the porch earlier.
“Richard! Carly!” Xander said when he spotted them by the door. “C
ome here. I want you to meet someone.”
They did as they were told, and he pointed to the man in front of him. “This is Bill Garrison, a Harvard boy I stole from the bureau to run my security. This investigation is his baby.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking hands with both of them. His demeanor seemed strangely serene when compared to Xander, who seemed even more agitated than when they’d arrived.
“How’s your daughter doing?” the old man asked as he leaned back in his wheelchair and stared directly at them. His tone didn’t suggest concern for her well-being so much as concern that there was something in his universe that he didn’t control.
“Fine,” Carly responded.
“You should bring her to my house. She’ll be safe there.”
“Yeah, that’d probably be a good idea,” Richard said, feigning enthusiasm for the plan.
“Tell us where she is and Bill can send a team to pick her up.”
“That’s OK,” Carly interjected. “We can have the person she’s with bring her.”
Xander fell silent, obviously calculating whether he should push.
“Did you find anything?” Carly asked before he could decide.
“It was definitely bugged, but the hardware’s been removed,” Garrison responded. “You can’t erase all traces of it, though. Also, we found repairs—very careful ones—of the bullet impacts you described from last time you were here. Other than that, there isn’t much.”
In Richard’s mind, it was a wild understatement. Despite all the people, the place felt empty. Dead. Memories of the good times they’d had there were twisted and grotesque now.
“Don’t worry, though,” Garrison continued. “I’m just getting warmed up—taking the obvious paths first. What we’ve learned so far is that whoever we’re up against is incredibly thorough, careful, and well financed—even by Andreas’s standards.”
“Finally, a worthy opponent,” Xander said.
Garrison seemed a bit more apprehensive. “I prefer them not to be this worthy.”
