by Blake Banner
I nodded. “I know.” We were speeding over the bridge into Manhattan. I looked at her and smiled. “You believe we can break them, don’t you?”
“Yes. We have to.”
“Marni?”
She smiled. “Yeah?”
“Don’t run away again. We can do this, but we have to do it together.”
She nodded and her smile deepened. “I know. I’m not going anywhere.”
Fourteen
My laptop was where I had left it on the table. The two whiskey tumblers had been washed and left in the rack to dry. There was no trace that Ben or his apes had ever been there. While I looked around, Marni closed the door, locked it, and slipped the deadbolt. Then she stood staring at the living room.
“It’s been a long time.”
I switched on the laptop to check my files. I was wondering why Ben hadn’t taken it, and I wanted to see if he’d tampered with my recordings of Ali, Hassan, Aatifa, and Abbassi. While I waited for them to load, I looked at her, thinking about what my father had meant for her. “He loved you, you know. Probably more than he loved Robert and me.”
She hung up her coat and came to stand beside me. She gently laid both her hands on my chest. “They’re painful memories, Lacklan.” She paused, hesitated. “I went a bit crazy after you told me he’d killed my dad. I idolized my father, you know that. After he died, your dad became a surrogate father for me, and I loved him and trusted him so much for that. When you told me…” She shook her head, unable to say the words. “I couldn’t believe it. I hated you for it, for telling me, and I hated him for taking my dad, and for betraying me. I guess for a time I lumped you both together, father and son, you had both robbed me and betrayed me…”
I nodded. “I know, Marni. It was the last thing on Earth I wanted to do. But right now we have to face the fact that we misjudged him. He was complicated, he was a pain in the ass and in many ways he was not a good man. But neither was he the monster we thought.” I shrugged and half-smiled. “You only misjudged him at the end, but I misjudged him all my life.”
“I don’t think anybody could blame you for that, Lacklan. He was a very hard man, hiding secrets you could not have understood.”
I saw with relief that the files were still there. I listened to snatches here and there. They seemed to be intact and I forwarded them to Gantrie for safe keeping. I noticed Marni had stepped away from me and was gazing out at the night.
I said, “You want a drink?”
She nodded without looking at me. I opened a fresh bottle of Bushmills and poured us a glass each. Then we stepped onto the terrace and leaned on the parapet. Riverside Park and the vast darkness of the Hudson beyond stretched beneath us. I didn’t face her, but spoke out at the city lights.
“When he was dying, in the hospital, he told me what had happened. Do you want to hear it?”
She nodded.
“Your dad was engaged in his research. I think he was beginning to discover the existence of Omega...”
“He was. He had found out about them.”
“Did he know my dad was a member?”
She shook her head. “But he was getting close. He would have found out.”
“They warned him off. Apparently they told him several times to desist from his investigation. But he seems to have been a brave…” I hesitated, stumbling over the word. “A brave and a very moral man. He refused.” I paused, strangely and intensely aware of the night air on my face. I was surprised at how difficult it was to talk about our fathers. “They were close—very close. And that’s why Omega told Bob, my dad, to kill him. He refused, but the alternative was that, if he didn’t do it, they’d have a professional hit man do the job…” I paused again, staring into my whiskey. “And take out your mother and you, as well as me and my brother. When they gave him that option, he went and told your father. They discussed it and your dad accepted.”
She came close and rested her head on my shoulder. I felt her small convulsions and knew that she was crying. After a while, she wiped her cheek with her fingers and took a deep breath. She said, “You’re not so different to him, Lacklan. You’re a very hard man. You are very ruthless and secretive. You make it hard sometimes… At least, you’ve made it hard in the past.”
I thought for a long while about that, about how to answer. Finally, I shrugged and said, “We are what we are, Marni.” She drew breath and I stopped her with a smile. “You can say we are what we choose to be, and that’s true, but it’s also a cliché. Who is that that chooses? And what makes you choose the way you do? It becomes an infinite regression, and in the end you wind up right back in the same place where you started. We are what we are, and the choices we make, we make because of who we are, not who we try to be.”
She heaved a big sigh and nodded. “I guess.”
“When you disappeared, my father asked me to find you and look after you. He did that because of who he was, not what Omega had tried to turn him into. And I could have walked away, but I chose to go after you, and stay with you, because that’s who I am.” I hesitated again, then added softly, “It’s something I should have done a long time ago.”
She didn’t answer at first, but after a moment she drew close and took hold of my hand. “We have some catching up to do.”
I nodded. “I need to know what’s in your father’s research. I need to know why they are so scared of it. I need to know about your congressman in Washington…”
“She’s a friend of Philip’s.” She smiled. “But that’s not exactly what I meant by catching up…”
I smiled back. “I know, but I have…” I looked at my watch. “A little more than eleven hours to find that canister and the bomb, and by the look of it, I can’t count on the help of the Feds. It seems they have dismissed me as a nut.”
She narrowed her eyes at me and shook her head. “There are things about that, Lacklan, that don’t make a lot of sense.”
“I know, but we can’t afford…”
She was shaking her head. “I know, but I don’t mean that. I mean, what Philip said is true. SF2 is theoretical. It was never fully developed. It wasn’t practical. There were just too many problems with it.”
“Well, maybe Omega…” But I trailed off because I saw the flaw in my reply before I even said it. Marni put it into words.
“If it was Omega, maybe, though Omega have access to much deadlier agents than a theoretical, genetically modified Spanish flu. The point is Al-Qaeda, or ISIS, or whoever these people are, must have bought this agent on the open market—and they can’t have because it doesn’t exist yet. It probably never will.”
I gestured in at my laptop on the table. “I have the recording of Abbassi telling the guys in his cell…”
She shook her head and put her hand on my arm. “I am not questioning that, Lacklan. I believe you. I just don’t necessarily believe them.”
I frowned. “What are you getting at?”
She sounded a little exasperated. “I don’t know. I just know that this explanation doesn’t quite hold water. I mean…” She hesitated and spread her hands. “Do we know who supplied them with the SF2?”
I stared at her. “No.”
“But we do know that Prince Awad and Ben are cozying up…”
It was there, for a fleeting moment, and then it was gone again. I stammered, “But—but why would…?”
“I’m not offering an explanation, Lacklan, and I may be way off base. But we have been assuming that Prince Awad knows Ben is Omega—what if he doesn’t?”
“When I saw them, they were with Hennessy…”
“The Hennessy Foundation has been involved in facilitating the sale of weapons to regimes that support terrorist groups. That is a fact. Now the question is, if we are right and the Hennessy Foundation brought Awad and Ben together to facilitate the sale of this canister, what does the canister really contain?”
I rubbed my eyes. My brain was aching trying to take in the magnitude of the problem. The same question
kept repeating itself. “Why would Omega do that? What would Omega gain…?”
She turned to face me and placed her hands gently on my chest. “OK, baby steps. Let’s start by assuming that everything that Omega—Ben—says is a lie.”
I nodded. “It’s a good place to start.” I looked down at her as the night breeze coming off the river moved strands of hair across her face. I felt an ache of emotion that was too powerful to put into words, and forced myself to go on. “We have assumed that they want to keep you alive because they fear your father’s research. But let’s assume for a moment that that, also, is a lie. Let’s assume that what they want is, somehow, to capitalize on your death…”
She went pale. “They want me to die, but they want me to die at the conference…”
“In a spectacular way.”
We were quiet for a long time, staring at each other. Finally, she said, “We have seen this before, Lacklan. But this time it will be even bigger, and the consequences…. We have to stop them.”
I nodded. “9/11. I have to find that canister.”
“How?”
“Abbassi.”
I went back inside, collected some things I knew I was going to need, including three sets of cuffs, grabbed my cell, and called Gantrie.
“Dude, I got the files. What happened to you? You disappeared…”
“Listen to me. We are very short of time. Did you track the cell I gave you the other day?”
“Yeah. I still have him.”
“Tell me where he is right now. Is he still in the jammed area?”
“No. He’s at…” There was a pause while I heard him rattle at the keyboard. Then, “He’s at the 49 Club, on 49th Street, right by the Hennessy Foundation. Go figure.”
“Gantrie, are you in New York?”
“No, man. Don’t ask. You don’t need to know where I am. Ever.”
“If anyone you care about is, tell them to leave. Now.”
“…shit, man!”
“Stay available for the next twelve and a half hours, Gantrie. I may need you. If the mark moves, let me know.”
“I’m here, dude.”
I turned to Marni. “Go to Boston, now. Get Kenny, whoever is there, tell him what’s happening. Move west.”
She shook her head. There were tears in her eyes. “I’ll call him. But I am staying with you. There is no time to argue. I’ll make my own choices. We are what we are, remember? Get going and do what you’re best at.”
I took her in my arms and kissed her, clinging to her fiercely, to the feeling of her body, her living warmth. I knew I would probably never have that again, and if I died that night, or if she did, I wanted to have that memory alive in my mind to the last moment.
I resisted the temptation to speed. I needed to remain inconspicuous, and I knew that when Abbassi left the club, as he must, Gantrie would let me know. So I could take my time and think things through. In the parking garage I had taken my Smith & Wesson 500 with the short barrel from the trunk of the Zombie, and slipped it into my waistband. I didn’t plan to kill anyone just then, but I wanted to make an impression on Abbassi when I spoke to him. I wasn’t going to go into the club after him. If my hunch about what was going to happen at the UN the next day was right, Abbassi would be leaving within the next hour or two. So I could wait for him outside, where there would be less witnesses to what went down.
I parked at a meter outside the Sushiden Restaurant, with a clear view of the 49 Club entrance in the arcade. I called Gantrie.
“Talk to me.”
“There’s not a lot happening, man. It’s hard to tell, but I think he’s been moving toward the door. He keeps stopping. He’s probably talking to people. You there? You going inside?”
“No, I’m outside, waiting for him near the door.”
“What’s happening, dude? You should tell me…”
I gave him the bones of what I suspected and he went quiet. Eventually, he said, “Man, that is so fucked up. What is wrong with people?”
“I don’t know, Gantrie. Maybe nothing. Maybe this is just what people are like.”
“I don’t want to believe that, dude. Wait! He’s on the move. He’s going for the door!”
“I’ll call you.”
I climbed out of the Zombie and into the milling crowds that populate the streets of the City that Never Sleeps. I crossed toward the brightly lit doorway of the 49 Club. There was no long line or throng waiting. It was invitation only and if you weren’t on the list, you didn’t get in. I strolled to the arcade and stopped just past the door to light a cigarette. The doorman watched me for a moment with incurious eyes, then looked away. The door opened as I inhaled. I glanced over and saw Abbassi, in an evening suit, step onto the sidewalk. He was maybe four or five long strides away, looking toward the street. I half frowned and half smiled for the benefit of the doorman. Then I stepped toward him and called out, “Hey, Abdul! How you doing, man? Long time no see!”
By the time I’d finished, I was drawing level with him and he’d turned to look at me. He frowned. I knew him well. I had studied every feature of his face, every movement and mannerism of his body. But I had done it from a distance and he had never seen me. He didn’t know me. Not yet. He shook his head. I smiled.
“Don’t you remember me? Yeah, man, you remember, from Baykhan!”
I saw him freeze. I shifted my jacket, pulled the Smith and Wesson with my left hand, and rammed it into his side while I put my right arm around his shoulders. I spoke quietly, still smiling broadly. “This is a Smith & Wesson 500, Abbassi. It’s loaded with 700 grain ammo. If I pull the trigger, it will blow you in half. And believe me, if you give me cause, there is nothing I would rather do. So smile and laugh and walk with me, and maybe you’ll get through the night alive.”
We started walking toward my car. I kept talking as we went.
“Do you remember Baykhan? I was the guy you were looking for. All those old men and women and children you killed? They were all innocent. They hadn’t helped me at all. I stole the water. How does it feel to have the blood of innocent children on your hands, Abbassi?”
His breathing had grown shallower and faster. I knew he was thinking of making a run. I gripped his shoulder with my hand. “I don’t need to kill you, Abbassi. I can just blow your leg off. Do I need to do that?”
He shook his head. “No. Who the hell are you?”
“I am your nemesis. I am real bad news. But if you cooperate with me, we’ll have a little chat, then I leave and you continue on your murderous way.”
We were approaching the trunk of my car. He glanced at me sidelong. “Are you CIA? Delta?”
I snorted. “This is a private enterprise, pal. Relax. You’re not going to prison. I just want to talk to you.” I popped the trunk, pushed him toward it and said, “Hand me that kit bag.”
Then three things happened almost simultaneously. I heard Mclean’s voice shout, “Freeze, Walker!”, I smashed Abbassi in the head with the revolver and heaved him into the trunk, and, as I slammed it shut, I looked around to locate where Mclean was.
He was halfway across the road, with Jones, and they were running toward me. By the look on their faces and the snub-nosed .38s in their hands, I guessed it wasn’t with the purpose of greeting an old pal. I didn’t want to get shot, and I sure as hell didn’t want to start shooting Feds, so I shoved my piece back in my waistband and went to meet them with my hands raised, shouting, “OK! OK! OK!”
All around us, people were screaming and running, backing away and peering at us from a distance as that familiar scene from the TV was played out in real life for them. Mclean and Jones took up their stances, training their guns on me, and shouted again, “Freeze! Get on the ground! Hands behind your head!”
I dropped to the ground, but not as they expected. I did a fast, low, spinning sweep and knocked Mclean’s feet from under him. He landed on his back with a big whoomph! that sounded painful. But by then I was already standing again and moving. I stepped
toward Jones, who was wide-eyed and gaping down at his partner. I levered his piece out of his fingers with my left and put a straight right into his jaw. Then I ran back to the Zombie, climbed in, and moved out of there, burning rubber.
I made it to Madison Avenue and headed north at a steady pace. There was silence from the trunk, so I figured I’d knocked him unconscious. I didn’t think I’d hit him hard enough to kill him. If I had, we had a real problem.
I crossed over the Madison Avenue Bridge and turned east toward Hunts Point. There was a dive there on Bryant Avenue where you could rent rooms by the hour for cash, no questions asked. Most of the screams you heard in that place were simulated pleasure, but not all of them.
Fifteen minutes later, I pulled off Randall Avenue, past the fat, half-naked girls standing on the corner in red vinyl skirts and leather pants, and crawled up toward the rooming house. I parked out front and went inside. Joe, hairy, toothless, and unshaven, was sitting behind his counter smoking. He blinked at me as I came in.
“I need a room. Top floor. Four hundred bucks says you keep quiet. I’ll be back if you tell anyone I was here.”
He shrugged and spat on the colorless, threadbare carpet. I handed him the money and he handed me a key. I went out to the car, opened the trunk, and dragged Abbassi out. He was awake but he was groggy and bleeding from his head. I pulled my piece, shoved it in his back, and said, “Walk!” Joe was reading a magazine as we climbed the bare, wooden stairs. He didn’t see a thing.
Upstairs, I pushed him into the room. It was a seedy box with a single bare bulb, a black window, an old bed, and a chair. I locked the door and told him to strip down to his underwear. Then I dragged the chair to the middle of the floor, facing the bed, and made him sit on it. I pulled the three sets of cuffs from my jacket that I’d collected before I left my apartment. I cuffed his wrists to the back and his ankles to the legs. When I was done, I switched my cell phone to record. Then I sat opposite him and lit a cigarette. He looked scared. I figured he wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of torture, but he was recognizing the lead up to it. I inhaled deeply and blew smoke up at the ceiling.