by Jeff Abbott
Then she drove back to Belias’s safe house, swallowing the grief, feeding her resolve. She wanted to know the truth of what happened after she left Glenn.
The only way to get her life back with her children was to end this. End the threat to Belias. Find Diana Keene. Kill Sam Capra.
And now she sat parked, looking at the house where she’d brought Glenn to die.
Behind those walls, he drew his last breath. And she thought of the endless days and nights where she’d laid next to him, listening to his breath with her eyes closed, feeling the rise and fall of his chest under her hand. She’d often slept with her hand on his naked chest and he joked she was trying to pin him to the bed. She’d laughed, but she wondered now, walking up the wooden steps, if even then in the early days he’d felt trapped by her.
As though he couldn’t feel more trapped by the deal they’d made with Belias, by the trap of a life they’d negotiated.
She knocked on the door. Once. Twice.
The door swung open. Roger stood there.
“May I come in?”
Roger gestured her inside and shut the door. “I thought you’d be with the Tiburon police.”
“I wanted to deal with this first.”
He didn’t argue with her. “I said it before, but I’ll say it again. I’m sorry about Glenn.”
Sorry. A one-word eulogy. No funeral. No memorial service. The police would be looking for him soon enough, yes. He would be missed by Audrey, by his colleagues at the best venture capital firm on the West Coast; lying texts from his phone would only buy them another couple of days or so. His disappearance would send shock waves through the economic press. She thought of all that and then, How do I tell the kids? How do they say good-bye? They don’t. Sam Capra cheated them out of their father.
“You should have this.” Roger handed her Glenn’s necklace, with the symbol. They only wore them on jobs. Slowly she put it on, tucked it under her shirt, the silver cool against her skin. It held no trace of Glenn’s warmth.
“Where’s Belias?” she asked.
“He needed to take a call. One he didn’t want me to hear.” Roger made a disgusted noise. “We’re under attack and he’s keeping secrets.”
“We’ll find Diana.”
“Not just Diana. Your dear ex.”
She turned back to him. “What?”
“We found out Glenn hired Grigori Rostov to not only find and grab Diana and to bring her here, but to kill me and to kidnap Belias. To force him to give Glenn every name in the network.”
She froze. “That can’t be true…”
“Belias found out about it at Rostov’s house. He found e-mails between Glenn and Rostov.”
Glenn planning a rebellion. Kidnap Belias, force him to reveal the names of everyone in the network. He’d been afraid to tackle both Roger and Belias, so hence the Russian. She could see it. She sat down in the chair, her legs weak.
But did Glenn die after Belias found out the truth?
Roger took another sip of tea. “We wouldn’t kill Glenn, if that’s what you’re thinking. He wanted to know who all Glenn would have rallied to his side in this little rebellion. Glenn was dead when he got back.”
“Why…why is all this happening now?”
“Because Belias has something big cooking. I think Glenn discovered it. Very big. Like someone in the network rising very, very high.”
“Higher than Glenn?”
“Oh yes.” Roger smiled.
And Glenn found out about this rising star how? Those in the network weren’t supposed to know each other’s names, but rarely they had to work together on an assignment. She never had, but Glenn had worked with others in the network a couple of times. And they were not supposed to try and figure out who the others in the network were. That would bring the entire network down on you, all its power, its murderous rage. There was no profit, no gain in trying to circumvent Belias.
Until now. Until someone was getting so powerful that perhaps Glenn or others wanted that power for themselves, with no Belias as intermediary.
These thoughts flashed through her mind, and she saw Roger thought she was just stunned into silence. He’d always underestimated her. “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know.”
“There is nothing to implicate you in his e-mails, Holly.”
“Or else I’d be dead.”
“Hardly, we’d just be having a serious chat. Belias has always had a soft spot for you.” He cranked a smile, so inappropriate now that she was a widow. But she wasn’t one. Audrey was and didn’t even know it yet.
“So is Diana and this video connected to this, um, mutiny?”
“I don’t know.” Roger cleared his throat. She thought he simply did not want to tell her. “And Glenn might have been acting alone. Belias will want your help in finding out.”
She changed the subject. “Where did you…hide…him?” She couldn’t say bury.
“It’s best you know nothing. In case you’re questioned.” Roger gestured her to a table. “Would you like some tea?”
“Thank you.” Roger jetted water from the faucet into a teapot and began to heat it on the stove. He went to the pantry and pulled out a box of Earl Grey packets. “You’re going to have to be sure you have an alibi for last night as it’s most important that no suspicion be put on you. I’m sure you can rely on your mother.”
Yes, she thought, and then she would need an alibi for killing Sam. And for being gone at the same time Glenn had gone missing. The police might raise a collective eyebrow. She needed to do this quickly.
She began to analyze how to deal with Glenn being missed. Tomorrow was the weekend, she thought. Glenn would not be missed so much by his coworkers at Vallon Marchbanks. Audrey was another story; she would not be put off by text messages and unanswered voice mails. So Monday, that was her deadline to find Sam Capra and kill him. After Monday both she and Glenn would be missed.
She nearly laughed—it was like trying to fit in yoga and grocery shopping and errands before the kids got back from school. She was glad she didn’t laugh because she knew it would be a jagged, awful sound.
“Where is he?” she tried again.
“I won’t tell you. It’s bad enough you already will have to fake shock or grief. Belias and I will arrange it so that it will appear he took out money, booked a private jet, and flew to New York, where he promptly vanishes. I hope you’re a better actress than the second wife. Her credits are not impressive.”
“Did he go…badly?”
“Was he in pain, you mean?”
“Yes.” She closed her hands into fists.
“His head had been knocked in. In my experience the pain is not bad. Confusion, shock dull it.” Roger poured hot water into a mug, set it down in front of Holly. He dumped in a tea bag.
And you didn’t save him, Holly thought. But there was only so much Roger could do, tucked away from a hospital, binding wounds in a Mission District apartment. Roger sat down with his own tea.
“I trained you all so you could fight if need be, defend yourselves, survive,” Roger said. “I feel I’ve let Glenn down. He should have beaten this Capra.”
You didn’t either, Holly thought, but said nothing.
“I’m just in shock,” she said.
“I can’t give you anything for that other than tea. You need to stay sharp.”
“Was he alone…when he passed?”
“No. I was with him,” Roger said after a moment. “Belias had left.”
He died with Roger as his only company. Holly felt the tears behind her eyes, hot. “He died in the other room? Where he was when I left him?”
“Yes.”
She got up and went into the small bedroom. She stood over the bed. Roger had already put on fresh sheets and a clean blanket. A slight smell of disinfectant. And under that…
A smell of paint.
Why would there be a smell of paint?
Glenn teased her that she redecorated rooms as often as she change
d dresses. It was a Thing to Do. A way to stay busy. She had the house she’d always wanted, and yet she kept changing it. Like a butterfly redesigning the cocoon. A bird regilding the cage. As if the gold bars of Belias’s deal would change the fact of the deal.
She glanced along the wall. There. Drying still, nearly done, but not done. A patch of paint right next to where Glenn’s head would have been. Right by the pillow where he’d smiled at her as she went home, told her to give the kids his love.
Why would fresh paint be needed? Why? She wanted to believe Roger—that Glenn died before Belias knew he’d turned traitor. He had never lied to her.
“What did he die of? What exactly?”
“The bleeding on the brain was severe, I guess. He lost consciousness and died.”
“I…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Holly, Belias wanted Glenn alive. To tell him how he knew what he knew and to find out who else was helping Glenn. And to give Glenn another chance.” Roger’s mouth crinkled. “I swear to you.”
Belias and Roger think your ex-husband betrayed them. Will he ever trust you enough to let you go?
“He is going to make the network more powerful than it’s ever been before. We’ll all make much more money. We’ll have more power behind the scenes. This is a real opportunity for you, Holly.”
If I run right now, he’ll hunt me down. If I go to the police, I lose my kids, everything. If I stay with him…will he set me free? Or is he just using me?
But the smell of fresh paint hung in the air, like a feather under her nose. She couldn’t save Glenn, she couldn’t avenge him. She could only escape with their children. She could only make herself into someone new who could survive dealing with Belias without Glenn.
“Where is Belias?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“He doesn’t trust you anymore?” she asked.
Roger said, “He never has.” He set down his tea. “Go home, Holly. Feed that story to the police about your house getting shot up. Do what Belias asks. It always works out better that way.” And he smiled at her.
29
Friday, November 5, afternoon
NEAR EVERY SAFE HOUSE belonging to Belias was another house that Roger did not know about. An extra space, a quiet refuge where Belias could work, each rent paid for two full years. Belias called them the studios—it was where he could practice his art.
He opened the laptop and entered in the encryption code for the Exchange. On a server in distant Estonia, a computer awakened and fed him the submissions for the day. He hadn’t checked the Exchange in four days, and he wanted to be sure to see there was no air of panic in the postings. There wasn’t. All was calm.
An offer of military intelligence on a new weapons system being developed in Colorado.
The phone number and computer password of a high-end prostitute who was routinely seeing a prominent politician in Germany.
The secret access number of an offshore account tied to a millionaire investor who was hiding illicit funds.
A request that a rival be distracted from business concerns—with the mild suggestion that the kidnapping of the rival’s child for three days might do the trick and asking that the child be released unharmed.
The list ran on, and he thought and considered the value of each piece before he made an offer to the person who could benefit the most from it. In his mind he imagined their prominent names and linking them all bright threads: black of immediate profit, green of information that could one day change a fortune, gray of violence, red of murder.
It took an hour, and he was nearly done, ready to close the Exchange, when a new message appeared:
Hello.
That was all it said.
It couldn’t be. The account was not one that could be easily spammed or discovered by law enforcement. Only the network knew how to send him a message, and those had to be encrypted. This was from an address he hadn’t approved, but they had his encryption key.
Belias realized he could do one of two things. He could immediately try to counterhack the message, see where it came from.
Or he could talk to whoever had dared trespass on his territory. Maybe Glenn sold access to the Exchange when he turned against Belias. It was the easiest answer.
Hello,
he wrote back.
I have a proposal.
I don’t know who you are.
That’s all right. We’ll be good friends, soon enough. What you’ve done here is so clever. I want to help you protect it.
I don’t know what you mean.
The network. What you and Roger have created. The deal you’ve made with lovely, deserving people. The way you took an old story and brought it to new life, Mr B., from how you and Roger got your start in London and Moscow. I want to help you.
Belias counted to ten, then typed:
I don’t want your help.
Sam Capra.
Belias wrote:
Who?
Don’t play dumb. You know who he is.
What about him?
I want you to bring him into your network.
I don’t think I can recruit him.
I think you should try.
Belias waited. No new message appeared.
I don’t have leverage over him.
You do. He has a son. Not even a year old.
Why do you care if he’s in the network? What’s it to you?
Because if you bring him inside, I’ll leave your network alone. If you don’t, then I’ll bring you down. I have your encryption key. I’ll hijack the network, run it myself. Or give it all to the FBI and Interpol. It doesn’t really matter to me.
Who are you? I don’t deal with people I don’t know.
You don’t know me. I helped you once, long ago, when you were the most hunted man in London.
Belias closed his eyes. He thought of nights hiding in alleys, pretending to be a homeless man in shelters, because that was the only place to hide. Until it had been safe to come out.
Your first enemy, he died because of me. Because I helped you out, unseen. I’ve been watching you ever since. You make people valuable. I’ve just done the same to you.
Belias got up, paced the floor. This couldn’t be. Then he saw more words appear.
I know you’re in trouble. I also know you’re about to bring a new level of power to your network. This is your moment, John. I certainly don’t want to ruin it for you. We’ve had our eye on you for a long while. With admiration.
Run, he thought. Shut everything down. Just end it. Take the profit he’d made off the network’s information and retire to Fiji or Laos or Seychelles. Live a quiet life. But he hated the idea of surrender; he hated it with a passion.
I just need one favor, and I’ll leave you alone. Recruit Sam Capra.
Belias typed:
And then what?
That’s not your worry. Get him to be part of what you do and then I’ll take him off your hands.
Maybe you’re the police and Sam Capra is a mole.
Or not.
Then there was an attachment. A file. He scanned it, put it through a virus detection program, made sure it was clean.
He opened it. A personnel file, from the CIA, on Sam Capra. He read it with fascination.
The other party waited, not typing, giving him time.
Belias typed.
Why have you sent me this?
Because I want you to recruit him.
Why?
Just do as I ask. You can recruit anyone, Belias, I’ve seen your track record.
And once I let him inside…?
He need not know your secrets. I just need him to be your associate for a while. I’ve sent you a link to a computer that might help you convince him. Do that and I’ll never bother you again.
Will you do what I ask? Or do I hand over the Exchange’s database to the press and the police?
Bel
ias took thirty seconds.
I’ll recruit him.
He signed off. And he thought, And maybe I’ll recruit him and I’ll use him to find out who you are and then I’ll destroy you.
He clicked on the link and watched in the window that opened, read the data that scrolled along the bottom of it, the person’s name. Interesting. Then he began tracing the trail of the messages.
A few minutes’ work showed him…the messages originated from his own server, hidden in Estonia.
His skin went cold. Someone was contacting him via his own machine, hidden away where he hadn’t seen them, watching him. If they had already penetrated the server, then they already owned every secret of the network.
And in the next few hours, if the person wanted to destroy him, they could. And if nothing happened…then the offer was serious.
He needed to bring Sam Capra into his fold for sure now. Not only to appease this stranger in the wires, but to find out who Sam Capra’s enemy was. That meant they needed to take him alive.
He and Roger were going to have to search harder for Diana—friends, associates, every place she might turn for help. She would be more desperate than ever after the incident at The Select. He’d been listening to her voice mails regularly; even though she’d wised up enough to keep her cell phone shut off, she still received voice mails that he was accessing through her provider account.
But he checked his monitoring software, and saw with shock she’d turned on her phone not twenty minutes ago for the first time in two days. The GPS gave a reading. A Marina District address. He remembered the profile he’d built up on Diana. She had a friend, Lily, who lived in the Marina District. Glenn had reported there was no sign of Diana at Lily’s when he began hunting for her.
Then. Not now.
He called Roger. “I know where she is. We need to take her alive.”
30
Friday, November 5, afternoon
WE’D PARKED THE VAN a block away from the address in the Marina District Diana gave Felix. The house was small, elegant, tidy, painted a nautical blue. An ornate white gate blocked the entrance to the house from the street.
