‘He’s a killer, Margo.’ Kyle spoke without emotion but his soft brown eyes were filled with compassion. ‘An assassin.’
Margo was shaking now. ‘He’s not a killer. I would know!’
‘Really? What do you really know about this man you married?’
Margo couldn’t hold her friend’s gaze. ‘Nothing, actually. Except that I love him.’
‘The people I talked to need to find him, Margo. They’ve discovered he’s on the move again. They think someone’s hired him to do a job.’
Margo had to steel herself to try to stop the shaking. ‘What kind of job?’ The look on Kyle’s face told her all she needed to know. ‘Who is he supposed to kill?’
‘They don’t know,’ Kyle replied. ‘But they know it must be someone big for him to leave his cover.’
‘This must be a misunderstanding,’ Margo said. ‘We have to find him.’
‘If Jack McCarthy doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be found.’
Margo stared absently at a bronze likeness of some long-dead hero. Then she turned and kissed Kyle on the cheek. ‘I will find him,’ she said. ‘I need to tell him something.’
‘Don’t risk it, Margo.’
‘I have to, Kyle. I need to tell him he’s going to be a father.’
‘Oh, Margo …’ The Senator paused, startled by her words, at a loss.
‘You don’t have to say anything. I’m glad,’ she said, refusing to cry. ‘So very, very happy. And Jack will be too.’
Kyle wrapped her in his arms and held her until she stopped shaking. Then he looked into her eyes. ‘If you need something. Anything … I’m here for you.’
‘I know,’ Margo said, heading for the door and the danger she knew lay ahead.
FIFTEEN
The next day Jack left the motel a little before noon. That would get him to CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia, at lunchtime. That was when most of the twenty thousand people employed there would be on the move. Some would be headed to the cafeteria, others to the visitors’ centre to pick up food they had ordered from outside. This was the safest time for Jack and his friend to move through the crowd without fear of him being recognized.
Not many here even knew of the existence of his special unit but this was no time to take a chance. Despite his altered appearance, he couldn’t even risk stopping in the lobby of the old building to study the Memorial Wall. Still, he couldn’t help but look swiftly.
There were one hundred and thirteen stars carved into the wall now, one for each undercover operative killed while serving their country. Some of their names and histories were registered in a book available on request. Others, like the name of his childhood friend and partner, Marcus Kane, could never be revealed.
Jack knew that name, the face, that history as well as he knew his own. He had mourned his fallen friend every day since it happened. The guilt had been so intense that before Margo had come into his life, Jack had thought many times of ending it.
‘Keep moving,’ Bob Whitbred hissed, stepping up to him. ‘There are cameras everywhere and if you’re spotted by someone who knows you, we’ll both be paying an extended visit to the basement.’ He hurried Jack down the corridor and into an empty elevator.
Since the troubles with his last mission, the one that cost Marcus his life, Jack had become a pariah in the tiny world in which he had operated, except to one person. Jack knew he had the full trust and support of the man who recruited both him and Marcus out of university. Bob Whitbred was risking a long and storied career just by bringing Jack into the building.
It was to Whit that Jack had turned at the airport when that astonishing message had appeared on his phone just before he was about to board the plane to Puerto Vallarta. He knew Whit would not ask questions on an unsecured line and he needed help fast.
‘Something’s happened, Whit. Something big, that I need to take care of. It involves a job I did for you.’
‘What do you need?’ had been Whit’s only question.
He had quickly explained that his wife was on a plane waiting for him. ‘I need to move on this thing now but if I don’t get on that plane, she’ll get off and be up to her ears in this. She could very well wind up getting herself killed. I won’t risk that.’
‘Stand by,’ Whit had said, and cut the connection.
It had taken less than five minutes to solve the Margo problem, at least temporarily. Whit knew that Reggie St John, once a member of Jack and Marcus’ surveillance team, was at O’Hare waiting to board a plane for Caracas. One phone call and a gate change and Reggie was boarding the flight to Puerto Vallarta wearing Jack’s raincoat.
Whit had also agreed to give the order to have Jack McCarthy scrubbed, all traces of his life in Chicago removed.
‘I want her to hate me,’ Jack had told him. ‘She needs to think I’m the worst thing that ever happened to her. That’s the only way to keep her safe.’
‘She must be quite a woman,’ Whit had said. ‘I’d like to meet her some day.’
‘That won’t be happening.’ Jack was trying to get used to the fact that life with Margo was over. That it had to be.
Jack was still lost in these thoughts when the elevator stopped on the sixth floor. Whit checked the corridor. ‘Clear,’ he said, and quickly led Jack into his office and locked the door. ‘The computer is yours. I’ve already put in the codes. Make this fast, Jack. I need to get you out before everyone is back at their desks.’
Jack hit a key to bring the machine to life and sank into Whit’s chair. He entered a series of codes until he had the file he was looking for. The image on the screen was chilling. The man had died a terrible death. The body was covered with a dirty tarp but the face was still recognizable. It was a face Jack had known his whole life. Jack stared at what was left of his friend Marcus.
Whit was looking over his shoulder. ‘What the hell are you opening that up for, Jack? Case closed. Don’t torture yourself.’
‘Are you absolutely certain this photograph was authenticated?’ he asked Whit.
‘Is this what this is all about? Marcus?’
‘Was the photograph authenticated?’ Jack asked again.
‘Of course it was. I had it checked and rechecked myself. What’s going on, Jack?’
Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the photograph. ‘I should have found a way to bring him home,’ he said softly.
‘You nearly got yourself killed trying. It’s war, Jack. Marcus knew the risks.’
‘We did,’ Jack said, shutting down the computer. He walked to the window, his face filled with anguish. ‘I’m not sure Marcus’ wife knew. Or people here. They blame me. Maybe they’re right.’
The sky outside was a winter blue, so clear and unsullied it was almost unseemly that it could be viewed from this place of dark secrets.
‘They are not right and you know it,’ Whit said. ‘Marcus exposed himself and got captured. He blew the mission, not you. None of it was your fault!’
‘That’s the part I don’t get, Whit.’ Jack was still looking out of the window. ‘How did they find out where Marcus was going to be that day?’
‘You’d have to ask Marcus that. You know what a talker he was,’ Whit said. ‘He got himself noticed somehow. You’re lucky he didn’t take you down with him.’
‘I guess,’ Jack said. ‘Can I take a look at the follow-up reports? Maybe there’s something you missed.’
‘Whatever I had was shredded twenty-four hours after we got proof of death. You know the drill, Jack.’
‘Yeah, I do. It’s just that something feels off. It has from the beginning.’
Whit put a comforting hand on Jack’s shoulder. ‘Losing Marcus will never feel right. To you or to me.’
Whit gave Jack a moment, knowing that he might never be able to accept that his friend, his brother, was gone. Finally he asked, ‘Are you going to tell me now what this is all about?’
‘Soon,’ Jack said. ‘Soon. There’s one more piece of the puzzle. I’ve
got to find it.’
‘Whatever it is, you know you can trust me,’ Whit said. ‘Tell me what you need and I’ll help you find it.’
Jack looked at him, thinking it over. ‘No. It’s got to be me.’ He headed for the door. ‘I’m not taking a chance on anyone else getting killed.’
‘Does that include you?’ Whit asked.
Jack didn’t answer the question. ‘Don’t walk out with me, Whit. If I’m spotted, I don’t want you involved. You’ve already helped me more than you should have.’
He unlocked the door and headed for the elevator before Whit could stop him.
Whit looked after him, trying to push away the feeling that this was going to end badly.
SIXTEEN
Margo’s public relations firm in Chicago was not about product launches or the rebranding of corporations. It was a place men, women and companies of immense power came for help when struck by disaster. The reputation Margo had built when troubleshooting for the Senator allowed her to pick and choose her wealthy clients. And they were only too happy to pay her top dollar to make their problems go away.
The firm was not staffed with the usual squad of MBAs from the best schools. Margo was drawn to independent thinkers like herself. The three people who formed her core staff had been educated the hard way: by failing spectacularly and learning from it.
Margo admired them for turning their lives around and, in turn, they were devoted to her. She knew their histories but had been willing to give each of them a second chance. Now they did that for Margo’s clients.
It was after 10 p.m. when her plane from Washington, DC, landed. But when she got to the office they were all there waiting at the polished chestnut conference table. Most of them were night hawks anyway.
Her colleagues were an awkward bunch, both physically and socially, but they found ways to show their devotion to Margo. Knowing she probably hadn’t eaten, they had placed sushi and two bottles of sparkling water at her place at the table. Her favourite music played softly in the conference room.
‘We have a potential new client,’ she said without preamble as she took her place at the table.
‘Can we know who it is?’ Courtney asked.
Courtney was a financial wizard who had done time for money laundering when she was still in her twenties. Now, at thirty-five, she was a straight arrow who wouldn’t so much as pick up a quarter on the street. But she could follow money like a bloodhound.
‘Soon enough, Courtney,’ Margo said, eyeing the sushi thoughtfully. ‘Did you guys already eat?’
‘Hours ago. But we ordered this when you were in the cab on your way here. It’s safe,’ Jason said.
Jason was the famous, or infamous, fifteen-year-old prodigy who had managed to hack into the Defense Department’s computer system. He had not been given prison time because of his extreme youth. Despite his genius, no reputable company dared hire him. Margo had dared and won a lifetime of loyalty.
Now twenty-two, there wasn’t a computer system Jason couldn’t crack if he chose to. Each time there was a significant hack attack, he would get a visit from the authorities. But he was never involved. He worked only for Margo.
Margo pushed the sushi away. ‘Thanks for this but I think I’m going to cool it with raw fish for now. My tummy is a little fragile at the moment.’
‘I’ve got half a salami sandwich in my office,’ Pete offered.
‘Thanks, I’m fine,’ Margo said, giving Pete a smile. ‘More important things to do right now.’
Pete, aka Finder, had a knack for tracking down people, places and things. No matter what you needed or who you needed to find, Pete knew a guy, heard a story, saw a photograph. He never forgot a face. He could find people who didn’t want to be found and, if he chose, he could also help people disappear.
Sadly Pete had zero social skills. He was so frozen by pathological shyness that he could not successfully complete a phone call, buy a shirt or rent an apartment. His mother had done those things for him until her death; now Margo looked after him. He, in turn, looked after her, even when she wasn’t aware.
‘So here’s the deal,’ Margo said. ‘The person we are considering working for is Jack McCarthy.’
If any on her team was surprised, they didn’t show it. And Margo, to her credit, could have been speaking of a stranger. ‘Before we decide to help him,’ she said, ‘as with all of our clients, we need to make sure he’s worth the salvage effort. No favouritism. Just truth. That’s what we’re after. Are you guys in?’
They were in.
Margo began her story where it had begun for her: at O’Hare Airport a little over two weeks ago. She talked without stopping for over thirty minutes, giving them every detail she could remember. And she remembered it all.
No one spoke until she had told them everything, including what happened in today’s meeting with Senator Wainwright. She did not mention that she was expecting a child. The next person she told was going to be Jack.
‘So here’s the plan,’ Margo said. ‘Courtney, you must follow the money. How did he move all that cash out of our accounts so quickly? And more importantly, where is it now?’
‘Did he have to forge your name?’ Courtney asked. ‘Or was everything joint?’ There was no judgment in her question.
‘Joint,’ Margo said. ‘Jason, there has to be some sort of electronic trail. Start with his mobile phone. It’s disconnected now, but he was looking at it just before he got on the plane. Was he making a call? Did he get a text? And he’s been on the move. How is he paying for things?’
‘I’m on it,’ Jason said. ‘First, I’m going after the security cameras at the airport. He couldn’t just vanish.’
‘Do it.’ Margo turned to Pete.
‘Let me guess,’ Pete said. ‘Find Jack.’
‘You got it,’ Margo said. ‘But remember, the CIA has been looking for him for years. He’s good.’
‘I’m better,’ Pete said. Then realizing what he said, he started to stammer out an apology.
‘You are better, Pete,’ Margo said kindly. ‘Just find him for me.’
‘I’ll start with raincoat guy,’ Pete said. ‘Seat 1B.’
Margo checked her watch: 3:30 a.m. ‘Let’s call it a night. Go home and sleep. I want you not to think about Jack at all. Don’t make a plan, a call, don’t research anything. Just get rest and we will begin fresh twelve hours or so from now.’
‘Sure,’ they said. ‘Not a thought.’
‘Can you do that too?’ Courtney asked, knowing her boss probably hadn’t slept more than an hour at a time in the past few weeks.
‘I give you all my word,’ Margo said, ‘that I will shut down my brain tonight. Tomorrow we’ll meet here at four in the afternoon and begin.’
Everyone started packing up their things.
‘Listen up,’ Jason said to the group. ‘Be careful on your home computers, your laptops, even your phones. If Jack really is involved in some sort of black-ops project, we have to assume someone will be watching Margo and anyone else close to her.’
‘Good point,’ Margo said. ‘Kyle told me to watch my back about a dozen times while I was in Washington.’
‘So do that,’ Courtney said. ‘Stay in lighted, crowded places, use only car services that you know. Follow the usual drill, our rules.’
‘By the time you get in tomorrow afternoon,’ Jason said, ‘I will have set up a computer system with so many fail-safes that even I won’t be able to hack in.’
‘I want you to sleep,’ Margo said.
‘Computer geeks don’t sleep, we hibernate.’ He went happily off to his office, chuckling at his nerd-humour.
‘I, for one, am sleeping,’ Courtney said, beginning to layer up for the freezing temperatures that awaited her outside.
‘Me, too,’ Pete said. ‘I was able to scrounge this amazing Murphy bed from a tear-down over on Clark Street. I hooked it up so it pops right out of the wall. It has a mini-bar and a TV set.’
‘And this
is in your office?’ Margo asked, not really surprised.
‘Right next to the popcorn machine,’ Pete said. ‘They were renovating this old theatre and …’
‘You’re all nuts,’ Margo said, heading for the door. ‘See you at four.’
Margo was barely out of the door before her three employees were back in the conference room.
‘How long will it take to set up the computer system?’ Pete asked.
‘We’re already impenetrable here,’ Jason said, powering up. ‘I just said that so she’d go home to get some sleep.’
‘Make popcorn, Pete. And let’s get to work,’ Courtney said. She opened the big file of personal financial information that Margo had brought in and started going through it, line by line.
SEVENTEEN
It was early, very early in the morning. Margo lay in the big bed she had shared with Jack, flicking through channels looking for something, anything that would make her fall asleep. She’d caught up on news, both national and local. She’d watched a show on how to get washboard abs, which she was quite sure she did not care to have. She had even learned that if she sent for a kit and followed seven easy steps, she could make a killing in real estate.
Still no sleep.
She should have been unable to stay awake rather than unable to sleep. Weren’t pregnant women supposed to be sleepy all the time? Plus yesterday had been the most exhausting day Margo could ever remember. It wasn’t just the trip to Washington or the meeting with the private investigator. It wasn’t even that long meeting with her team last night. What she was grappling with was her judgment or lack thereof.
How could she have been so wrong about Jack? Still wrong about him? Because, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, she believed he loved her. She certainly loved him.
‘Who are you, Jack McCarthy? Who are you?’
She thought about the new life growing inside her. Jack’s child, their child. How he had longed for a family. His parents were long dead and Marcus had been all he’d had before Margo. Now Marcus was gone, too. If only she could reach Jack somehow, let him know that the baby they had longed for was on the way. She knew it would make a difference.
Who Are You? Page 5