by D S Kane
Cassie entered the chapel behind him, and they made their way to the back of the congregation. As they walked they could hear an organ playing the ancient Kol Nidre, an enchanted and soulful tune. Shimmel donned a prayer shawl—the tallit—and a yarmulke, and took the prayer book one of the congregants handed him. From the back of the large room they could both see the old rabbi at its front and thousands of people around them.
The rabbi intoned a prayer, its words ancient magic: “We have sinned, our Lord. We have been arrogant, brutal, cynical, deceitful, egocentric, false, greedy, heartless, insolent, joyless, lustful, malicious, narrow-minded, obstinate, possessive, quarrelsome, rancorous, selfish, subject to temptation, unrepentant, violent, weak of will, xenophobic, and we have shown zeal for bad causes.”
In response, the congregation intoned, “Our sins are an alphabet of woe.” Cassie felt as if she’d been hit between her eyes with a brick. Remembering how innocent she’d felt the day she joined the agency, the blood drained from her face. Her knees buckled. She held on to the back of the seat in front of her and steadied herself, thinking how her behavior fit so well into all these labels. Tears dripped down her cheeks.
And then the rabbi said, “Rabbi Tarfon once said, ‘The day is short and the task is great, the workers are sluggish and the wages are high, and the Master of the house is pressing.’ For us all, life is a vain attempt, a struggle to press our insignificant deeds into this world.”
Unable to stop herself, Cassie thought about everything she’d done from the moment she entered McDougal’s office three years ago, when he’d told her what her role would be. She thought about all she’d done to help her government attain its desires through subterfuge and deceit. Rage, grief, and guilt all warred within her.
Every inch of her skin crawled with her desire to turn back the clock. But as she tried to bolt, her knees locked in place, trapping her. She was forced to listen.
The rabbi and the congregation continued to pray, and she was caught by another round of responsive reading: The rabbi said, “Let your judgment, oh Lord, fall on tyrants and those who wage war.” She thought about her own government’s heavy-handed dealings with less powerful nations, and how so often she was the willing tool used by them. She remembered every second of torture she’d had inflicted on the Houmaz brothers just a few days ago.
Cassie thought about what she intended to do to Mark McDougal, and how it would only push her further in a direction from which there was no return, no repentance, no forgiveness possible.
Thoughts twisted inside her like a car tumbling off a cliff. She heard that voice in her head telling her what she should do. All her plans reformed clearly. Cassie knew. Tears stopped falling from her eyes. She faced Shimmel, her expression resolute.“Avram, thank you for saving me from myself.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
Shimmel nodded and smiled back at her. He turned toward the front of the chapel where the rabbi led his congregation in another prayer asking God’s forgiveness.
Cassie walked up the aisle and out of the synagogue. Still an atheist, she departed, paying close attention to something newly discovered deep within. The prayers she heard as she left soothed her sense of guilt.
When she reached the street corner, she looked once more at Ann’s picture.
Each step she took moved her further from the living nightmare she had suffered for so long.
* * *
Nine hours after the FBI apprehended him, Lee Ainsley walked down the stairs of a military transport that landed at the American Incirlik Air Base in Turkey. He was immediately trucked to the basement of the Milli Istihbarat Teskilati headquarters, near Istanbul. It was the Turkish secret police headquarters. He wore an orange jumpsuit and leg-to-hand cuff-chains. He dripped perspiration in the heat and humidity of the Middle Eastern evening.
A soldier held an automatic weapon against his spine, pushing him toward the prison entrance. Lee saw the broken attitudes of the prisoners, mostly Muslims, on their prayer mats beseeching Allah for forgiveness. They seemed like livestock in a slaughterhouse. His life had definitely taken a bad turn.
* * *
Mark McDougal left his office and drove home just before midnight. He walked through the hallway, looking for his wife and son, but didn’t find them. He guessed they’d given up on seeing him and gone to sleep. His wife shifted away from him in the bed as he entered the bedroom but she didn’t say anything. He figured she was still in shock and probably also angry over the kidnapping. He couldn’t blame her.
Without raising her head, she said, “Look, Mark, I know you saved our lives, but I can’t live with someone who lies so much. I’ve placed a pillow and blanket on the sleeper couch in the family room, and that’s where you can spend tonight. Or, if you prefer, you can have the bedroom and I’ll sleep there.”
Hey wanted to protest. Would that change anything? “Honey—”
“No, Mark. Before I spend any time close to you, I want to think about my life.”
McDougal walked in sullen silence down the stairs. He suspected she knew more than he’d ever told her. And he couldn’t blame her. This is what I get for playing to keep my family safe and never telling them they were chips in a game. When he turned off the light to sleep, he couldn’t. Once again he was unable to escape thinking about trouble of his own making.
He rose off the couch before 5 a.m. He dressed and drove to the office. It just didn’t pay to stay in bed when all he could think of was how his family hated him and he’d be off to prison as soon as Ben-Levy released the information he possessed.
* * *
Cassie walked down K Street toward the apartment she’d lived in until the day the agency issued a “burn notice” on her. She entered the lobby and scanned her mailbox. The name on it was no longer hers. “I. J. Ibrihim”
She sighed at the transition. Washington was that way. She picked the lock into the lobby and took the stairs to the basement. Near the furnace, in a space hollowed out between its bricks, she retrieved a small ziplock bag and pulled a plastic ID badge from within. It was a copy of her old badge. She’d need to change the bar code and name, but leave the photo as her own.
Off to the local FedEx Office.
CHAPTER 44
September 15, 1:46 p.m.
Headquarters of Gilbert Greenfield’s
unnamed intelligence agency,
K Street, Washington, DC
No one came to his office and the hours passed. McDougal thought the people around him knew he’d become a pariah. He read and reread reports on all the staff ops and the analyses his people sent him. Nothing stayed with him. He couldn’t concentrate worth a damn. Just before noon, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his chair toward his office door.
Cassandra Sashakovich stood just in front of his desk. She wore a festive-looking Hawaiian shirt, picturing a black man waving his hands over a burning guitar. Her expression seemed strained—full of hatred and irony covered by a loose yet grim smile—and she held her body in a tense state of alertness, as if she’d prepared for their encounter without any idea of her adversary’s intentions.
McDougal took her in, her expression, her informal dress, and wondered how she managed to get past security. He stared at her, unsure of what to do.
After a few seconds he forced an ironic expression and a weary smile for a shield. “I suspect you’re behind all this. Placement of the corpses facing east, Ainsley’s attorney, the intel he and the Israelis hold, all of it. You know, of course, I can have you arrested right here and now. Tell me why I shouldn’t.”
Cassie seemed to restrain the urge to jump over the desk and kill him with her bare hands. She smiled at him again, a cold and ruthless grin. “It’s been a long time, McDougal.” She turned and closed the door to his office, making her visit a private event. “You know, I was going to kill you today. But a friend convinced me there were better uses for you than fertilizer.”
McDougal scowled. He tried
thinking of something effective to parry her unexpected comment. “Don’t be silly, Sashakovich. I weigh sixty pounds more than you and I’m six inches taller. You don’t even have a gun.” He pushed his chair back just in case she had thought about launching herself at him. He showed her his gun from under the desk so she could see it pointed at her.
Cassie laughed. “You’re such a stupid man, McDougal. After all I’ve been through—all because of you, I might add—you can imagine I’ve made it impossible for you to kill me without serious consequences to you and your family. I have a great life insurance policy. Should I die, you’ll be arrested within forty-eight hours on a list of charges that will keep you behind bars, or get you executed.”
Cassie brushed the hair from her eyes and stared at McDougal, waiting for a reaction. But he just stared back. She suppressed a bitter smile and kept her face blank. “And that’s only a fail-safe. See, I’ve hacked together a few redundant programs that are primed to execute unless I intervene to prevent them. Which I have to do frequently. I told Ambassador Wagner about them and by now he’s told Greenfield. And my guess is the idiot that runs this God-forsaken country knows too. At minimum, when I am dead, within days a contract for your death will be issued and sent out to eleven hit men I’ve met during my time away from the agency. It’ll be a contest to see who gets to kill you first and collect the reward. But the contracts won’t get paid unless they do your wife and son first. If you like, I can tell you exactly how they’ll die. Interested?”
She saw defeat in his eyes, but then all expression faded from him.
She tilted her head and smirked at him. “Even if you don’t try having me killed, I can still make your life a mess. There’s the evidence this President’s West Wing is responsible for funding terrorism so we can all live in a constant state of fear. In addition, evidence of your dealings with Houmaz, the delivery of the nuclear warheads, and least of all, your sale of my cover to Houmaz. A long laundry list of the dirty things you’ve done! You’d be able to watch it all on the evening news. Your wife and son will live in shame as long as they reside in the United States—if they’re still alive, that is. And don’t disregard the possibility some extremist group might take their revenge for the Houmaz brothers by killing you, your wife, and your son.”
Cassie clenched her lips. “You just won’t pull the trigger. We’d both end up with appropriate legacies. Mine is vengeance and yours is shame.”
She thought, just pull the trigger, motherfucker. If it isn’t a headshot, I’ll be on you in a second.
Cassie watched perspiration drip down his forehead into his eyes. So he knew she wasn’t bluffing. She watched him gulp. He must be trying to figure a way out of all this.
“Listen, Cassie, it doesn’t have to be this way. How about coming back to work for the agency? I could hire you back in as a director.”
She saw desperation in his eyes and almost felt sorry for him. She couldn’t contain her laughter any longer and it burst forth, cracking her composure. “I think not.” She drew herself together as her amusement turned into a few short snorts. “I don’t need a job, especially one working for you. Now I don’t have to appear to be anything I’m not.”
Cassie pointed at him. “I know why you blew my cover. But your reasons don’t matter. You offered me to the Muslim extremists. Do you know what they intended to do with me before they murdered me? The torture they intended for me would by far exceed anything I can do to you. In comparison, I’m here to offer you kindness.”
Convinced now he wouldn’t shoot her, she sat in one of the overstuffed chairs facing his desk. “What amazes me is we’re so alike. Greenfield screwed you and you screwed me. We both started out as patriots and now we’re rogues. So, no. I’ll not work where you work. I have other uses for you. I won’t release the remaining intel if you follow my demands. For starters, Lee Ainsley. I want him back and home in less than the three days it normally takes to get a prisoner back from whichever country you’ve had him renditioned to. Charges dropped immediately and an official apology issued by Greenfield in front of the media on television.”
She paused until she was sure he understood the demand. “If not, you, Greenfield, and the President will spend the remainder of your lives in prison for treason, and your wife and son will live their lives in shame. Offer Ainsley his job back with a substantial pay raise and grade promotion. I want him to be your superior. He’ll run you for me. I don’t care how difficult this is for you to accomplish. If you can’t, I’ll make your life a short, miserable one. I think you can do it and I have faith you will. And if you do, then I won’t blow your cover like you blew mine. If you can demonstrate your usefulness, that is.”
Cassie took stock of McDougal’s posture and expression. He looked defeated. “Do you understand me?”
He nodded. But she wasn’t sure he agreed yet. She’d negotiated well, but now it was time to seal the deal.
She took a deep breath and steeled herself to the next step in her plan. “Okay, then. Know that I can always hack Lee free and clear even if you won’t do it for me. And I’d really rather have him work for me, but I know his preference is to return to the agency, the silly boy. So you’ll take him back since it’ll make him happy. In effect, you will also work directly for me, covertly, just as I worked for you when I was under NOC with Brewster Jennings and Associates. I will tell you what you will do and you’ll follow my orders just as you did for Houmaz. Won’t that leave you with wicked nightmares?”
She saw her reflection on his office window. A rock-hard look shaped her face. “After I have Lee returned to me, you will arrange to have Swiftshadow Consulting Group approved as a preferred contractor for federal services, with cover under other company names to be selected by me. We’ll run some of your NOCs. Also, I want…”
She gave him a laundry list of things to do if he wished to survive. When she finished dictating terms to McDougal, Cassie told him, “Finally, you will not retire unless I give you permission. If you do retire without my permission, I’ll release all my evidence. Now, do you understand what will happen to you, to Greenfield, and the President if you fail to agree?”
He nodded.
“Right. Now tell me you agree to my terms and I’ll be gone.”
She watched McDougal seethe. But with obvious difficulty, he managed to control his evident rage. He bowed his head. “I agree,” was all he said.
Cassie knew it was better not to get him to put his signature on a piece of paper. She already had all she needed to keep him as her “pet dog” for as long as he lived. She turned on her heel and left his office, flicking the Record function of her cell phone off as she reached the elevator bank.
* * *
The man sat at the screen of the computer in his office. His anger almost overpowered him. Outside, busy people tracked events and searched for terrorists. He’d closed his door and reviewed his decisions before acting on them.
He took a deep breath to settle himself. Yes, she’d survived. He hadn’t cared whether she lived or died. But that was before her actions destroyed the value of his stock portfolio. She’d cost him tens of millions. Now he’d have to move the money fast before further losses wiped him out.
He opened his cell phone and dialed an international number. “Guten Tag, Herr Flouber. I have a numbered account with the name Ellbert E. Friend. 87-2458-9716-LF. Please close out every open short position with all my stocks on the NYSE and put me back into US Treasury bills, ninety-day duration. Roll them at maturity until further notice. Danke. Auf Wiedersehen.” He picked up the list of identities and accounts and reviewed his progress. He moved down the list, calling each of the others.
He thought a second more. She knew too much. If she hadn’t already put it all together, she might at any time. His complicity in the failed attack would call undue attention to him for sure. But getting her executed would take time and he didn’t have a lot of it left. To keep him out of this, he’d have to use others with more power. Who wa
s right for this? He picked up the phone and dialed another number.
* * *
As the elevator dropped slowly to the lobby, Cassie thought about the past year. She’d been so naïve when she accepted her job at the agency, three years ago. She knew her enthusiasm for her job and her country had blinded her to reality. Her only skills of value were econometric forecasting, banking, and computer hacking. All she had learned at the agency was being a thief. This realization hit her hard.
For minutes, she stood in the lobby, looking out the large windows into the busy street.
The world was so different to her now. Fear was no longer her constant companion. She could remain focused even under great stress. The voice in her head now served her as her instincts, honed as a sharp weapon. Her eyes had been forced open.
Cassie thought about her original judgments. McDougal was honorable. Lee Ainsley was a buffoon. Her government was correct to assert its place as the most powerful nation in the world with her as its willing accomplice. All wrong!
She’d been so wrong about so much, especially Lee. Cassie knew she’d have to guard against being duped again. Anger had not served her well. She’d grown too comfortable with vengeance, taking lives. She’d become a horror to herself. To compensate, she’d have to watch herself, remain aware of who she’d become at all times. Cassie wondered if she could ever be normal.
She thought about her mercenaries and her new friends, how she had trusted them with her life and how they had not failed her.
As Cassie left the lobby of the building and walked through the sunlight down K Street, she thought about her future. She wanted to make Swiftshadow Consulting Group a force for a more rational world. There would be at least a half billion dollars left when she finished stealing the remaining cash from the terrorist bank accounts. She’d need to hire her mercs on a permanent basis. She’d need a good-sized office with a few people staffing it. Maybe she could interest Judy Hernandez in a spot as office manager?