Bait and Switch

by MC Lee

  “That’s what you’d be,” Moore had said. “You’re already on the inside. You’re totally trusted, as far as the Center trusts anybody. And you’re Michael Palmer’s nephew, whether he acknowledges you now or not. In less than two years, you’ll reach majority and your life will change. And that’s when you’ll be able to get your revenge. You’ll work with us to bring the Center down. To destroy Michael Palmer and everything he stands for.”

  Leo’s mouth had fallen open when Jack suddenly ran out of words and fell silent. “Jesus, Jack,” he’d said, shaking his head. “That’s messed up.”

  Now he was the one who answered Moore’s question. “We’ve discussed it. Jack is prepared to hear you out.”

  “Why do I find that so hard to believe?”

  Jack stiffened at Moore’s words. Beside him, Leo sat up straighter, his eyes darting around the room, clearly checking exit strategies. Jack had run the same protocol himself, coming up depressingly empty.

  “They’re being tracked.” Ryan Anderson spoke from the position he had taken up beside the closed door. His arms were folded across his chest, but he was obviously alert.

  Leo threw a startled look at Jack.

  “Of course they are,” Moore said evenly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from the Center.” He pressed a button on the table, and the door suddenly flew open as two armed guards stepped into the room. Leo half came out of his seat, freezing when one of the guards trained a gun on him. Jack grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back down.

  “I suspected which way you’d jump the minute I made the offer,” Moore continued, his gaze fixed on Jack. “I saw it in your eyes. You might think you despise Michael Palmer, but deep down you don’t believe he’s capable of arranging the deaths of his wife and his own brother. Even with all that Center training, you couldn’t hide what you really felt.”

  “What are we doing here if you knew I wouldn’t turn?” Jack demanded.

  He heard an incongruous snort of laughter from the doorway and turned to see Anderson shaking his head. “Two of the Center’s best and they can’t work out the simplest fucking thing,” he said in disgust.

  Jack was shocked to see a transformation take place right in front of his eyes. Ryan was no longer the slightly awkward schoolboy; he wasn’t even the cool teenage operative. He had drawn himself up from his slouch and looked disturbingly like one of the trained military men Sean kept on standby. His glittering eyes had become hard, his jaw was set, and he gave off an unmistakable aura of controlled danger. Jack didn’t know how he could have underestimated the man so completely.

  Before Moore could reply, Jack heard his phone buzzing loudly and felt it vibrate against his leg. Leo’s phone also started pinging wildly, as though several messages were coming in at the same time.

  Ryan stepped forward. “I’ll take those.”

  Both Jack and Leo made a grab for their phones, but the guards were suddenly right behind them. Jack felt the cold metal of a gun barrel jam into the back of his head, and he instinctively froze. Beside him Leo did the same, his palms coming up slowly to rest on the tabletop.

  Jack sat absolutely still while Anderson frisked him, pulling the phone out of his pocket and placing it on the table. Then he turned and did the same to Leo. Only then did the guards lower their weapons and take a step back.

  “The Center?” Moore asked.

  Jack slowly leaned forward and cautiously picked up his phone, which was still buzzing with an incoming call. He read the screen and then turned it toward Moore. Moving slowly, hyperaware of the guards flexing beside him, he reached for Leo’s phone and turned that one around too.

  A single message was scrolling continually across both phones: GET OUT NOW!

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “I GUESS Sean has figured out who Ryan works for,” Moore said.

  “Finally,” Ryan grunted.

  Moore stood up suddenly. “I imagine we’ll have company fairly soon. I’ve no doubt Sean has already dispatched his team. Let’s get going, gentlemen.”

  Jack wasn’t given time to comply of his own accord. One of the guards hauled him to his feet as the other waved his gun at Leo until he stood too. Anderson scooped up the phones and threw them into the wastepaper bin, then followed them out of the boardroom. Jack turned his head to find Freya stumbling along beside him, looking totally confused.

  They were led through twisting corridors until they came to a door opening out to a large parking lot. A sharp prod in his back forced Jack forward until he found himself standing in front of a car. He was unceremoniously spun around, and a hand grabbed at his wrist.

  “I don’t think we’ll be needing this,” Moore said. He snapped his fingers, and one of the guards stepped forward with a pair of pliers. Moore cut the tracking band off and dropped it to the ground. “Any other equipment you want to tell me about?”

  Jack’s lips clamped together, and he deliberately turned his head. Whatever sign Moore made next resulted in Jack being turned back around and pushed facedown across the hood of the car. Practiced fingers frisked him efficiently and then pulled him upright and dragged his hands behind his back. He grunted as a plastic tie was cinched around his wrists and pulled tight. Across the hood he watched as Leo was trussed up in the same way, and then they were both hustled into the back of the car and shoved down onto cool leather seats.

  If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Jack would have laughed. The blacked-out windows were exactly the same as those in all of the Center’s vehicles. He glanced across at Leo and saw recognition flare on his face before Leo’s expression went blank. Dominic Moore climbed into the back of the car, and Anderson slid in behind the wheel. At the last minute, Freya jumped in beside him as the car roared into life and slipped out of the parking lot.

  “So who are you? Really?” Leo asked.

  Moore smiled. “Let’s just say I have history with the Center.”

  “I don’t know what you think you’ve accomplished,” Jack said. “We’re nobody. We don’t know a damned thing. And we’re not worth anything in any market.”

  “You’re Michael Palmer’s nephew,” Moore said amiably. “I’m betting that’s worth something.”

  Jack exchanged an incredulous look with Leo. “Jesus, you are way off base. He doesn’t give a damn about me. He never acknowledged our relationship until he was forced to. I spent thirteen years living in the Center’s compound, and he never once told me who I am.”

  Moore inclined his head and searched Jack’s face. “You really don’t understand him, do you?”

  “What’s to understand?” Jack growled. “He hates the sight of me. He won’t even recognize me as his blood.”

  “In order to protect you. Tell me how you don’t know that.”

  Jack raised his head and looked Moore in the eye. “To protect me from what?”

  Moore waved his hand, taking in the back of the car, himself and Leo trussed up like turkeys with everything that implied.

  “From this, Jack. He was trying to protect you from this.”

  THE REST of the thirty-minute journey went by in complete silence. Jack kept his mouth shut out of sheer incredulity, and because he wanted to try to process what he’d heard. He was sure Leo remained mute in solidarity. Moore just didn’t seem to care.

  When the car stopped and the door opened, Jack climbed out, blinking in the brightly lit underground garage they had pulled into. He wasn’t surprised to see a van pull up alongside them and disgorge four armed guards.

  He stayed close to Leo’s side as they were guided through a steel door and down a maze of hallways until they came to a halt outside an office. Moore pressed his palm to a screen, and the door swung open. Jack stumbled in, encouraged by a sharp shove to the small of his back. Once inside, he and Leo were pushed toward a pair of chairs placed in front of a desk and shoved down into them. The ties cut into Jack’s wrists, but he refused to let the pain show.

  Moore crossed the room and sat behind the desk. A
moment later Ryan walked in and perched on the edge of an armchair. Freya was nowhere to be seen.

  “I guess it’s safe to bet this was never about me?” Jack said.

  “Only indirectly,” Moore confirmed. “If you had agreed to join us, we would have exercised that option to fulfill our aims. But this works just as well for us.”

  “So this was always about getting to Michael Palmer?” Leo said.

  “It has always been the endgame,” Moore said. “And given his family history, there’s a certain symmetry in Jack being the architect of Palmer’s downfall.”

  “So what Freya told us about you working with the US government was total bullshit,” Jack said.

  Moore shrugged. “It’s Freya’s truth. I’ve found it’s easier to persuade people to your cause if they believe they’re working for the common good. I take it she was convincing?”

  Jack didn’t respond. For the first time he understood why the Center kept so much information under wraps. He had believed what Freya told him because it was so obvious she was telling the truth—or at least the truth as she genuinely understood it. He’d studied her closely, looking for the lie, seeking the manipulation of truth, and finding only belief. He wondered how much the Center played the same game of encouraging his innocence so he could convince others more effectively.

  “And your story about my parents….” Jack couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “Mostly true. We did help them escape the Center, but only because we intended to turn them against Palmer. When they refused, they became surplus to requirement and their contracts were terminated.”

  The words knocked the air out of Jack’s lungs. “The recording was a fake?”

  “The conversation was real enough,” Moore clarified. “But there were a few creative tweaks to put our particular spin on it.”

  “Michael Palmer didn’t put a contract out on my parents?”

  “Actually, he did. But it was a protection detail. He realized before they did that they were in danger.”

  Jack closed his eyes briefly as that piece of information sunk in. He’d made a choice to put his trust in the Center based on little more than a deeply seated gut feeling. It was sweet relief to have his instincts confirmed.

  “What do you want with us?” Jack demanded.

  “Absolutely nothing,” Moore said, a maddening smile tugging at his lips. “But we’re sure your uncle will want your safe return. We’re going to arrange a trade. Michael Palmer for you.” He turned his head and pinned Leo with a look. “And we’ll throw you in to sweeten the deal.”

  It took Jack a moment to realize that the bitter laugh ringing through the air came out of his mouth. “Michael Palmer will never surrender himself to save me. He doesn’t care what happens to me.”

  Moore inclined his head. “You’ve got that very wrong. It’s exactly what he’ll do. Now I think it’s time for an end to the questions. I need you to make a call, Jack. It’s time to get this ball rolling.”

  “Who am I calling?” Jack said tightly.

  “Let’s start with Sean Miller,” Moore replied.

  At a gesture from Moore, one of the guards bent over and used a knife to slit the plastic tie that bound Jack’s hands. He shook them out, grimacing when the blood flowed back into his fingers, accompanied by a sharp burst of pins and needles. Jack stood and approached the desk. He reached for the phone, startled when Moore suddenly grabbed his wrist and slammed his hand down on the desk.

  “You tell him you’re safe, you tell him to expect further contact. That’s it. The conversation will be monitored, of course.”

  He jerked his chin, and Jack heard a stifled gasp behind him. He turned his head to see that the same knife that had cut him free was now pressed against Leo’s neck, so deeply that a thin line of blood was welling.

  “In case you need an incentive to behave,” Moore said.

  Jack stepped around the side of the desk so that he could keep Leo in his sights. Then he reached for the phone, his hand steady, even though his heart was racing. Moore pointed to the “hands free” button, and Jack made the call. Unsurprisingly, Sean picked up on the first ring.

  “Where are you, Jack?” he asked.

  “I’m safe.” The pause was only a heartbeat long, but enough for Jack to register Sean’s relief.

  “Is Leo with you?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jack replied.

  “What’s going on? Both your phones went dead.”

  Jack glanced at Moore. “It was a setup.”

  There was a faint sound of a sharply inhaled breath, and then Sean’s voice barked an order. “Put Mark Donovan on the line.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow and held the receiver out to the man he’d known as Dominic Moore. “Mark Donovan, I presume?”

  Donovan nodded an acknowledgment as he disconnected the “hands-free” feature. “I wondered when you’d figure it out,” he said into the phone.

  Jack couldn’t hear Sean’s side of the conversation, but he saw Donovan’s expression waver briefly before the hard set of his mouth returned. “That was a stupid move, Mr. Miller,” he said. “I suppose you thought you could track your operatives and spring a trap. Fortunately, we’ve always been one step ahead of you.”

  He inclined his head as Sean answered, and then straightened suddenly. “I think you’ll find I’m holding all the cards this time. They’ll be fine as long as you follow instructions. I’ll be in contact.”

  He disconnected the call and gestured toward the guard standing behind Leo, who eased the knife away from Leo’s throat. Blood trickled down his neck, disappearing into the collar of his shirt, and it was all Jack could do to force himself to stay rooted to the spot instead of closing the distance between them.

  “Well, gentlemen,” Mark Donovan said. “There’s not much more we can do right now. I’ll ask Ryan to show you to your room.”

  The guard standing behind Leo bent and cut the tie binding his hands. He grimaced and rubbed at his wrists but otherwise showed no reaction.

  Anderson stepped around the desk and jerked his head toward the door. “This way.”

  When the guard took a menacing step forward, Jack and Leo had little option but to follow Anderson out. He led them past several closed doors and then stopped and punched a code into a keypad. A door slid open, and Anderson gestured, standing back until Jack and Leo had walked inside. Jack was surprised to find himself in a comfortable suite of rooms.

  “We’re not savages,” Anderson said, reading Jack’s thoughts. He nodded toward Leo and smirked. “I figured you wouldn’t mind sharing a room. Make yourselves comfortable. I expect you’ll be with us for a while.”

  He walked out, the armed guard at his back, and the door slid shut behind him. There was no keypad on this side of the door, so Jack turned and crossed the room to stand in front of Leo.

  “Let me take care of that,” he said.

  Leo reached up and gingerly touched the cut on his neck. “I’d feel happier if we tossed the place first. You want to go right?”

  Jack managed to dredge up a weak smile, and then he set to work. As they had when they’d first met Mark Donovan, masquerading as Dominic Moore, they tossed every inch of the suite, checking for hidden cameras and listening devices or anything that seemed out of place.

  While Jack worked, he thought back over his late-night phone call with Sean, when he had finally confessed what had been going on. Sean ordered him to switch to Skype, and Jack left Leo pacing the living room floor while he walked into his bedroom and connected to his handler, telling him everything that had happened over the past weeks.

  His confession was met with stony silence, making his stomach churn with nervous tension, until Sean finally spoke.

  “Are you going to ask?”

  “I already know,” Jack replied.

  “How?”

  Jack shrugged. “Because I know you. Because I know Evan and Martin.”

  Sean’s gaze never wavered. “We’re all highly trained ope
ratives. You don’t think we could be putting up a front?”

  Jack shook his head vehemently. “I’ve chosen to put my trust in you.” If his voice wavered slightly, Sean pretended not to notice. Silence once more reigned, stretching so long Jack felt his nerves sing with tension.

  “For the record, the answer is no,” Sean said. “Your uncle had absolutely nothing to do with your parents’ death.”

  Jack started to shiver as a rush of pure relief flooded him. He’d taken a chance, based on little more than blind faith in Sean, the man who had been friend, mentor, and guide, who had protected him from Judith and Guy’s worst excesses and treated him with fairness and the first measure of kindness he’d ever known.

  Sean gave him a moment to collect himself before saying, “Bring Leo in. We need to work out a plan. This ends tomorrow.”

  IT TOOK them over an hour to toss the room, by which time the dribble of blood at Leo’s neck had become a steady stream. When Jack finished his side of the suite, he walked over and slipped his hand in Leo’s, tugging him wordlessly toward the bathroom.

  “Sit,” he ordered.

  Leo sat on the edge of the bathtub without a comment. Jack picked up a washcloth, ran it under the hot tap, and then rubbed soap into it before gently dabbing at the blood on Leo’s neck.

  “So, who the hell is Mark Donovan?” Leo asked.

  Jack shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me.”

  Leo winced, and Jack’s hand hovered over his split skin for a moment, before continuing to clean the wound. He’d seen Leo’s spilled blood before, but he knew he’d never, ever get used to it. He gave in to the urge to drop a kiss onto the top of Leo’s head.

  Leo glanced up and smiled, although it was a pale imitation of his customary grin. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he murmured. “You don’t seem convinced your….” He stopped and arched a questioning eyebrow.

  “My uncle,” Jack supplied, even though the word felt alien.

  “You don’t seem convinced your uncle will step up.”