by Will Jordan
Letting out a breath, she yanked her arm out of McKnight’s grip and turned away, running a hand through her short dark hair. ‘Fucking waste of time,’ she hissed, shaking her head in disgust.
This minor irritation dealt with, Anya gave Samantha the barest nod of acknowledgement before turning her eyes on Drake again.
‘If this is to happen, then it will happen my way. We go in, we abduct Cain and take him to a safe location, and I get the answers I need from him,’ she said, speaking with the slow, patient self-control of a teacher addressing a particularly defiant student.
‘As long as he’s alive, he’s a danger to all of us,’ Drake replied, folding his arms. ‘You know that as well as I do.’
Anya nodded, reluctantly conceding his point. ‘Maybe so. But if he is to be killed, I will be the one to do it.’
She straightened up a little as she said that, raising her chin as if killing her most powerful enemy was some unpleasant task she was only taking on out of necessity.
‘Those are my terms. If you give your word to honour them, I’ll help you. If not…’ She shrugged. ‘Then I wish you luck.’
Drake was caught between a rock and a hard place. To accept Anya’s offer would mean jeopardizing the very objective they were risking everything to achieve, not to mention introducing an unpredictable new element into the team. On the other hand, to refuse her help would mean cutting off a vital ally, crippling the operation before it had even begun.
For Samantha, the situation was even worse. If Cain was kept alive long enough for them to question him, then he would almost certainly reveal that she had been his mole for the past year. There would be no reason for him to hold back. He would destroy her, dragging her down with him.
Drake glanced upwards for a moment and let out a breath – a gesture she had come to recognize when he’d made an unpleasant decision – before finally nodding acquiescence.
‘Fine,’ he conceded unhappily. ‘You’ll get your chance to question him.’
Anya held out her hand to cement their deal. Drake reached out and gripped it, pulling her a little closer and staring her hard in the eye.
‘But I’m warning you now, if he puts my team at risk, or it looks like we can’t get him out, we’re not leaving him alive. Understand?’
‘Perfectly.’ The woman released her hold, turning her attention to the blueprints laid out on the table before her. ‘Let me see your deployment plan again.’
As Drake sat down to walk her through the plan once more, McKnight turned away, needing to get out of the room. She ascended the stairs and strode towards the ship’s bow, taking a deep breath and trying to calm her wildly beating heart.
The deal struck between Drake and Anya might be enough to get them into that safe house, but it would mean the end for her if Cain started talking. She couldn’t allow that to happen. The only choice was to make sure he didn’t get the chance.
One way or another, he was going to die.
Chapter 24
Andrews Air Force Base – 21 October 1985
So this was it. They had come down to it at last. The months of training, planning and preparation were over. The unit that he and Carpenter had put together was about to deploy to Afghanistan, to go into battle together for the first time.
There was no telling what might happen to them, whether any of the soldiers hauling weapons and other gear towards the C-130 cargo plane nearby were going to make it back alive. But Cain could at least take comfort from the fact that they were probably as ready and prepared as any group could be for what lay ahead.
Carpenter was nothing if not a man of his word. He’d promised to whip the disparate collection of mercenaries, foreign defectors and exiles into shape, to form them into a true unit, and he’d done exactly that. Three months of brutally effective training and careful selection had gradually whittled away those who lacked the mental and physical strength to make it, those who panicked under pressure, who hesitated under fire, who thought of themselves first and the unit second.
Those who had emerged from this fiery crucible were as hard as iron, as strong as any soldiers that had ever taken to the field, as intensely trained and conditioned as any human could be. They were a spear, honed to a razor edge, ready to be used.
And Anya was one of them.
Even now, he didn’t truly understand how she’d done it. Somehow she’d survived Carpenter’s tortuous selection process when others who were bigger, stronger and fitter had fallen away. Somehow she had found the strength to keep going, to persevere against everything he threw at her, every attempt to make her break. Somehow she had even earned a modicum of respect, both from him and the rest of her unit.
And now she was about to venture out into the field with them for the first time, to go deep behind enemy lines, far from any help he or the Agency could offer. The thought of what the young woman might face out there stirred an odd mixture of pride, protectiveness and trepidation in him.
‘Anya!’ he called out, striding across the tarmac towards her.
Laying down the heavy rucksack she’d been about to hoist onto her shoulders, Anya flashed a welcoming smile. The kind of smile that seemed to linger with him long after he’d parted company with her, that he found himself longing to see again.
‘Marcus. I didn’t know you were coming,’ she said, looking almost flustered.
Her English was more fluent now, he noticed. She’d been working hard on it during her time in the States, and could even approximate a pretty good American accent when called upon.
And that wasn’t the only change that the last few months had wrought in the young woman. Her body, already fit and athletic, had hardened and filled out, adapting to the relentless and intense demands that her training had placed on it. Her blonde hair, once falling in loose waves well past her shoulders, was cut short and tied back now so as not to interfere with her vision at a crucial moment.
There was something else, too. Something a little less tangible, but real all the same. A certain confidence that hadn’t been there before; the kind that many tried to emulate but only soldiers truly possessed. Had she been a man, Cain might have called it swagger. But whatever it was called, it was hers now. And she’d earned it.
‘Hey, I couldn’t let you go without wishing my protégé luck. If you’re Luke Skywalker then I’m Obi Wan Kenobi, just better looking,’ he said with a playful grin.
Her baffled expression told him his reference had fallen on deaf ears.
‘Still haven’t watched Star Wars, huh?’
She shrugged and gestured to the operatives nearby. ‘I have been a little busy lately. What is the thing you say here? It’s on my doing list?’
Cain couldn’t help but laugh at this. ‘To-do list.’
‘To-do list,’ she repeated, committing it to memory. One thing about Anya; she never made the same mistake twice.
Cain’s laughter subsided a little as he looked her up and down. ‘Seriously, though, I just… wanted you to know how proud I am of you. I know these last few months haven’t been easy, but… Well, I’m sorry for what you’ve had to go through, but it had to be difficult. I had to know you were ready for this.’
Anya took a step closer, staring up into his eyes. ‘All I asked for was a chance. You gave me that, when no one else would. You have nothing to be sorry for, Marcus.’
Christ, if he had a hundred of Anya, he could change the world, Cain thought in that moment. But maybe he didn’t need a hundred, he realized as he looked at her. Maybe, in the end, one would be enough.
Reaching out, he held his hand out to her, and she took it without hesitation. The touch of her skin was like electricity, the warmth of her hand lighting a fire inside him that he’d sensed growing these past few months.
Cain had never been a superstitious man, had never believed in premonitions or fate or any of that other nonsense, and yet he sensed somehow the weight of significance that lay in this moment. This was a turning point, for both of them. He
felt himself seized by the sudden notion that this young woman who had arrived so unexpectedly in his life, who could so easily have passed him by without the slightest ripple, was going to have a profound impact not just on himself, but on many others.
She was going to help him change the world.
‘Look after yourself out there,’ he said, wishing he could think of something more profound or moving at such a moment. But then, perhaps she didn’t need noble words or stirring sentiments. Perhaps it was enough to know that he meant what he said.
She smiled. One of those achingly beautiful smiles he always longed to witness, made all the more bittersweet because he didn’t know when or if he would see it again.
‘Anya, we’re almost loaded. Get your skinny ass over here!’ Carpenter called out from the big aircraft’s rear cargo ramp. ‘We ain’t waiting for you!’
A blush rose to the young woman’s cheeks then and she glanced away, breaking the spell. ‘I have to go now,’ she said, reaching down to heft the bulky rucksack onto her shoulder. ‘I’ll see you again, Marcus Cain.’
With that, she turned and hurried towards the waiting aircraft, leaving Cain standing alone on the tarmac.
‘I know,’ he said quietly as he watched her go.
* * *
Cain sighed as he stared out across those same tarmac runways a quarter of a century later. Only this time, he was viewing them from the comfort of the Andrews AFB executive departure area – the kind of place reserved for serious players in the military and intelligence communities. The kind of place his younger self could scarcely have imagined having access to.
And yet here he was, preparing to travel halfway around the world for a meeting that could lead to the death of the most wanted man on the face of the earth and the decapitation of the terrorist network he commanded. Preparing to change history, just as he’d once envisioned with almost childish naiveté.
But this time he was doing it alone.
His Gulfstream C-37A executive jet was being fuelled at this very moment, getting ready to make the transatlantic flight to Ramstein AFB in Germany, where it would once again stop for refuelling. From there, it would be another eight or nine hours to Pakistan depending on local weather conditions. A long journey, but a worthwhile one.
He’d left Hawkins to handle the security arrangements for the meeting. He was certainly aware of how much depended on this. And yet, Cain couldn’t help but wonder if all his preparations would be enough, whether Anya might actually make a play despite everything.
Whether she might succeed.
Moved by a sudden impulse, Cain reached for his cell phone and selected a number from his list of contacts. It was a number he hadn’t dialled in some time. A number he often found convenient excuses not to call, because it was easier for both of them.
He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the call button. It would be so easy to avoid it, to make yet another excuse so he didn’t have to face another strained conversation, didn’t have to face one of his many past mistakes. But what if this turned out to be his last chance? What if he never got to speak to her again?
Almost without realizing it, he’d pressed the call button. Taking a breath, he held the phone to his ear, staring at the sombre grey clouds overhead as he waited for it to connect.
It was ringing. Cain held his breath, waiting for her to pick up, but the ringing just carried on for what felt like minutes. Maybe he’d caught her at the wrong time, he thought, almost hoping for the reprieve. Maybe she was busy.
Or maybe she just didn’t want to talk to him.
‘Yeah?’ a young, impatient female voice demanded suddenly.
Cain let out the breath he’d been holding. ‘Lauren.’
It had been so long since he’d said that name out loud, the very sound of it was almost foreign to him.
‘What is it?’ she asked. No greeting, no attempt at small talk, not even a veneer of warmth. But then, what had he been expecting?
‘I just…’ He hesitated, feeling awkward and tongue-tied. ‘It’s been a while since we talked. I wanted to check in… see how you’re doing.’
Did he really just say ‘check in’, as if she were a side project he’d kept on the back burner for the past few months?
He heard a sigh down the line. The vexed sigh of a young woman called upon to go through the motions of a conversation she had no enthusiasm for. With a man she had no desire to speak to.
‘Fine, I guess,’ she conceded at last. ‘No different from usual.’
He was getting nothing. ‘How’s school going? Your dissertation coming together?’
She snorted in amusement at this. ‘And what’s my dissertation about?’
Cain swallowed and looked down. He had no answer for her, and she knew it. ‘I’m trying here, Lauren.’
‘Why?’ she countered. ‘Why the sudden interest? You worried I’m spending my allowance too fast or something?’
He might have laughed himself if the situation had been less strained between them. If money was the biggest issue he had to worry about in life, Cain would have considered himself a happy man indeed. Normal concerns for a normal life.
But not his.
‘No, of course not. It’s just that… Well, I haven’t seen you for a while—’
‘And whose decision was that?’ she interrupted heatedly. She took a breath, calming herself before going on. ‘Listen, I don’t know what’s brought this on. If you’re going through guilt issues or you’re just feeling lonely, whatever, but that’s something you need to deal with. Calling me out of the blue and expecting me to act like nothing’s happened… I don’t know what you want from me. We haven’t known each other for a long time.’
‘That’s what I want to change, for Christ’s sake,’ he said, allowing some measure of the frustration he felt to show in his voice. Frustration that was directed solely at himself.
‘A little late for that, don’t you think?’ There was no anger in her voice now. It was cold and clinical, like a physician pronouncing a patient’s death. Maybe that wasn’t so far from the truth.
Spotting movement to his left, Cain glanced over at an air force flight sergeant, who was holding up her hand with all five fingers extended. Five minutes until his flight was ready to board. Cain gave her a nod.
‘Look, Lauren, I don’t have a lot of time right now—’
‘Surprise me,’ she said with unveiled sarcasm.
‘But that’s going to change soon,’ he pressed on. ‘I’m about to finish something that’s been hanging over me for a long time. And when I’m done, a lot of things are going to change. I don’t blame you for doubting me, but I mean it. I don’t expect anything from you, I don’t want anything and I don’t deserve anything. But I’ll be there. And if you think we could at least talk to each other… I’ll be waiting for you.’
For once, she didn’t immediately hit back with a scathing remark or a sarcastic put-down. Silence echoed down the line. Cain waited, saying nothing, knowing he had to give her the time and the space she needed.
‘Look, I… I have to go,’ she said, but this time she sounded a little less sure of herself. ‘My friends are waiting for me.’
Cain let out a sigh. ‘I understand.’
Another pause. Strained, awkward, hesitant. ‘Look after yourself, Dad.’
The line went dead then, but Cain didn’t care. It had been a long time since she’d called him ‘Dad’. Maybe that was as good a start as he could hope for.
In that moment as he made his way towards the waiting aircraft, it was enough.
Chapter 25
St Luke’s Medical Center, Denver
Pete McKnight let out a weary sigh as he lowered himself into his chair. He was tired and out of breath after walking back up two flights of stairs from the hospital news-stand, but nonetheless he had returned with a couple of magazines tucked under his arm. Enough to keep him occupied for a while.
He was a busy, energetic man by nature; the kind who always
had a project on the go. Idling away his days reading books and flicking listlessly through TV channels was as foreign to him as the hospital he now found himself in.
He could have taken the elevator back up to his private room, but he’d insisted on struggling up the stairs, determined to push his ailing body to its limits because he needed those limits to become a damn sight bigger than they were.
Still, at least he was feeling better than a few weeks ago, when he’d been so floored by the combination of chemo drugs and radiation therapy that he could barely make it to the bathroom to throw up. That had been a low point, but as the doctors had assured him, it would all be worth it when he came out the other side. He couldn’t be cured – the pancreatic cancer had advanced too far for that – but assuming his immune system recovered from the treatment, his chances of seeing another five years were considered ‘reasonable’.
Reasonable – a strange word by which to measure one’s life span. It was even stranger that he considered himself lucky at the prospect of having a few more years left in him. But he did – he very much did. A year ago, armed with substandard medical insurance that would pay only for the most basic palliative care, his lifespan had been measured in months rather than years.
He’d been all set to make a one-way trip to his hunting cabin up in the Rocky Mountains with enough supplies to see him through a few weeks, and a bottle of sleeping pills for when they ran out. Pete McKnight certainly didn’t consider himself one of those macho death-before-dishonour idiots, but he’d been around long enough to recognize the difference between being alive and actually living. No way was he going to end his days in some sterile hospital room, clinging desperately to each miserable moment.
But his situation had changed suddenly and dramatically last year. Somehow his daughter had found a loophole in her military health insurance, allowing for his life-saving treatment. She’d tried to explain it to him once, but the complex legal technicalities had been lost on his drug- and pain-dulled mind. He’d cautioned her, wary of her good-hearted but dangerous manipulation of the system, but she had brushed away his objections, telling him everything would be fine, that she knew someone who was an expert in these things.
