“You would have been vaporized, along with most of the government and a large part of DC,” Jack said.
Angus nodded, still looking queasy as he stared at the bomb. “I still can’t catch my breath over how close this was to being a catastrophe for our country.”
“Is the NEST team on its way?” Jack asked. “That bomb is still live.”
“Yes,” Angus said, returning his attention to Jack. “They should be here any minute. The sooner that thing is made safe, the sooner I’ll be able to breathe.” He looked at Angela again, then back to Jack as he cleared his throat. “What’s she doing here? Was it really necessary to bring her along?”
“I didn’t bring her,” Jack said. “She brought me.”
Angus frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You owe her for stopping that other nuke from going to New York City.”
Angus smiled politely. “Yes, we do. That’s why we released her after things were cleared up. And we gave her that special weapons permit as a token of our deep appreciation.”
“You should be thanking your lucky stars that you did.”
Angus clasped his hands behind his back. “Why’s that?”
“Because after you had her released, she found out about this second bomb.” Jack pointed a thumb back at the device. “Had you not released her—had those rogue agents had their way with her—Washington would be under a mushroom cloud at four p.m. today.”
“Well I don’t know that I can entirely believe—”
“Angus, you need to listen carefully to me so that you can comprehend the seriousness of this situation. None of your people knew there was a second bomb, did they? Any evidence about the second bomb was destroyed in the explosion when you went in after the first one. Even if they would have gotten any intel, you would still never have found this one, but even if you had, it would have been disastrous.”
“Why do you say that?”
Jack gestured off behind the electrical equipment to the dead man in the chair, his legs straight out in front of him, his arms hanging, his face a bloody mess. “That guy there is sitting on a dead man’s switch. If by some miracle you would have found out about this bomb in time, your men would have blown him off that chair and that would have detonated the device.”
Angus wiped his forehead. He was looking a little green.
“Goddamn, Jack. You’re scaring the crap out of me.”
“Angela found out about this device, not unlike she found the other one. She was able to track it to this place. Angela, no one else, was able to find it in time and deal with it without letting that guy on the dead man’s switch move a muscle.”
Angus looked at the man in the chair, then around at all the bodies. “So then you shot all of them when you got here?”
“No, she did. I was just her backup.”
The men in the tactical gear, their eyes the only thing visible in their black masks, exchanged looks. They were probably all just as good shots, but they found it hard to believe.
Angus frowned. “Are you serious?”
“I am,” Jack said. “She a better shot with that twenty-two than anyone I’ve ever seen. No shots to center mass. Every one a head shot. Every bullet she fired today killed a terrorist. One bullet, one man.”
“Well, it took two for that guy down on the second-floor stairs,” Angela corrected. “I screwed up and waited a fraction of a second too long, so it took two bullets.”
“Yeah,” Jack argued to her in defense, “but you put that second round through his ear—from across the room—after you put the first one through his throat so he couldn’t call out an alarm.”
The men in black exchanged looks again. They had probably found the guy below with the bullet hole in through his ear.
Angus gaped at her a moment and then shook his head. “Hundreds of billions of dollars’ worth of national security, and stopping this threat came down to you two—down to her with a twenty-two.” He turned back to Jack. “We’re going to need to debrief her about all of this, of course.”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to do that, Angus. Angela is my asset. Not yours.”
He looked shocked. “But this concerns national security.”
“That’s not my job, and it’s not hers.”
Angus’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about the program that was canceled?”
“My contract that was canceled, yes. I’m happy that we were able to stop these two bombs from destroying New York City and Washington, DC, but I don’t work for you anymore. I don’t provide intel for you any longer—by your choice.”
“Well, I’m sorry about the way all of that went down, Jack, but the political people in charge don’t approve of profiling.”
“I understand,” Jack said. “I’m not complaining. I was able to find work.”
“With the Mossad.”
Jack knew it was an educated guess. He simply shrugged.
“The Israelis aren’t perfect, either,” Angus said.
“No they aren’t, but they don’t put political correctness ahead of stopping terrorists. They can’t afford to.
“So, since I don’t have a contract with you any longer, I’m afraid that the assets I’ve developed are my assets alone. I need them in my work for those who employ me. Since your agency isn’t interested in the work I do, or employing me, I’m afraid that Angela can’t discuss anything about what she was able to do in stopping this terrorist event.”
Angus chewed his lower lip for a moment. “Jack, it’s critical that we find out what went wrong that allowed it to get this close to disaster.”
“As a professional courtesy,” Jack said, “after I get Angela safely home, I’ll fill you in on what I found out. I won’t discuss what Angela was able to do, but I will let you know what we learned so that you can understand how everything went so wrong.”
“Well,” Angus said with a sigh, “that would be helpful.”
Angela pointed at the two prisoners. Medics were tending to Rafael. “We saved you two prisoners. I didn’t shoot them so that you can interrogate them all you want. Jack’s idea.”
“What happened to that one?” Angus asked.
“He asked me to shoot him,” Angela said. “So I did. Just not where he wanted me to shoot him. His name is Rafael. He is the leader of this entire mission. The other one is Lobo. He’s a coward. I expect he will talk.”
Jack smiled. Angus stared at her in astonishment for a moment.
“Anyway,” Jack said, “Rafael, there, brought the material for the two bombs in through the Oeste Mesa border crossing during the big attack. All the rest of it, all the other attacks, all of it, was merely meant to obscure the fact that the border crossing was the one that mattered. That’s how they got the critical bomb material in.”
Angus could only stare in disbelief.
“Like I say, if you want to continue to enjoy my cooperation as your unpaid personal advisor, she is to be left out of it. If you should get any unpleasant ideas, please keep in mind my previous warning about the consequences of what I know getting out.”
Angus cast a suspicious look at Jack, then at Angela. “And what does she want out of this?”
“Nothing,” Jack said. “She doesn’t want recognition or any reward. She did this to save innocent lives. She just wants to be left alone to live her life. I think you owe her that much.
“But a great many people owe her a great deal. They owe her their lives, even if they don’t know it and never will. This government owes it to her to let her live hers.”
Angus lifted an eyebrow, then stuck a finger in his thick hair and scratched his scalp as he thought it over for a moment. Finally, he looked Angela in the eye.
“In light of the fact that you saved untold lives today, young lady, to say nothing of the damage it would have done to the government, the infrastructure, the electromagnetic pulse that would have taken out a large part of the East Coast, and the possibility this could have cascaded into global nuclea
r war, I want you to know that you have your government’s deepest gratitude, even if that gratitude can’t be expressed publicly—for obvious reasons. I’m afraid that in the national interest, this entire matter must be kept several levels above even top secret. Top-secret things are routinely leaked. This must never be. Ever.”
“I understand, sir, and I’ll keep it that way,” Angela said. “You have my word.”
Angus nodded his relief. He even added a grateful smile.
Jack doubted that Angus could ever comprehend her reasons for doing what she had done. It was not for recognition.
It was because she was a stone-cold killer of killers.
The United States had just been saved by a serial killer.
Angus smiled with an idea. “Well, there is one thing I am able to do for you. You have that weapons permit we gave you?”
Angela nodded. “Yes, sir, thank you.”
Angus’s smile widened. “I’ll tell you what. We’re going to upgrade it for you.”
Angela frowned. “How can you upgrade it? I was told it already allows me to carry whatever I want wherever I want.”
“Yes, that’s true enough. But now it’s going to give you access to our special armory and gunsmiths. Anything you want will be yours.”
“You mean you have a catalog of guns for spies?”
Angus laughed. “Not quite, but almost. You’ll have a personal contact who will be able to advise you and make suggestions. I realize that you know what you’re doing, but these people know a great deal about weapons. They will see to it that you get whatever you want—things you likely don’t even know exist—the best of the best.”
Angela gestured around at all the dead. “Do you think I’m lacking? I think my twenty-two worked just fine.”
“Yes, it did.” Angus arched an eyebrow. “But I think our armory can get you a twenty-two, or anything you might want, that you will find special, and just for you. It’s a small token of appreciation from a grateful government, a government with a lot of good people, despite the fools you encountered before.
“Really, Angela, considering what you went on to do here today for everyone, despite how you were treated before, that shows what a special person you really are. We have hundreds of billions of dollars invested in making sure this never happens. Yet it almost did. Only your initiative stopped it. You deserve a small token of our appreciation. I hope you will accept it.”
Angela bowed her head. “Thank you, sir, I would be glad to.”
“Now,” Angus said. “Our NEST team is right behind me. They need to get in here and dismantle this thing and make sure the plutonium is safe.”
SIXTY-NINE
Angela was glad that she had stopped to see Barry. He’d already had one operation on his face, and he would need several more, but he was in good spirits to have survived.
He was glad that those four men hadn’t managed to find Angela and harm her. He felt tremendously ashamed for telling them where she lived. Angela convinced Barry that it was all right, that no one could have stood up to what they were doing to him without talking. She told him that she was far more worried about him and wished that he had told them what they wanted to know before it had gone as far as it did.
He asked what had happened to the men. She told him that they’d gotten into a fight with someone and they had been shot and killed. He was surprised to hear it. She smiled and told Barry that karma was a bitch. He laughed a little, and said not to make him laugh because it hurt.
He knew about Angela and the rest of the girls keeping the bar open for him. They had all been visiting him. He thanked her over and over for that. She’d told him that she only did it because she needed the money, not because she was keeping it open for him. He’d laughed again, and winced in pain again.
He hadn’t been too keen on the ladies’ night thing, but after Tiffany had let him know how much money it had brought in for the bar, he was warming up to the idea, especially since Nate was there to keep things under control.
Angela turned in to the trailer park just before the MILFORD FALLS KOZY KOURT sign. The road in had once been blacktop, but very little of that paving still showed through the dirt and gravel.
A man named Al, in a dirty white T-shirt, sitting in a rusty blue metal chair in front of his trailer, watched her drive by. Angela remembered Al sitting in that chair watching the world go by back when she had lived with her mother. She’d heard that he was on disability of some sort. He had seemed harmless enough but never spoke to her as she had walked past him on her way home from school.
Nearby, a heavyset woman in a flowered dress stretched up to hang laundry on a line. At another trailer, an old couple sat together on their small porch. Angela drove past a man in shorts and flip-flops leaning in under the hood of a beat-up car.
Behind a group of mobile homes she saw thick brush where she used to hide at night rather than go home. At least until Boska had put an end to that. Seeing the all too familiar place where she had grown up gave Angela a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
A lot of bad things in her life had happened in this place.
Ages ago, in the beginning, it had probably been a nice place to live. But in Angela’s lifetime it had always been an overgrown, run-down, squalid area on the wrong side of the tracks infested with meth and all the criminal activity that went with it. A lot of people who lived here were nice enough, but they had nowhere else to go, so they had no choice but to put up with all the trouble.
Angela had been one of those who’d had nowhere to go and who had to put up with a lot of bad things.
She drove past mobile homes all parked at the same angle to an ancient master plan. Some had no skirting, so the wheels were exposed. All of them were up on blocks of some sort to make them level. Most had broken lattice panels covering the space under them. Others had corrugated metal skirting.
A lot of places had dogs on chains. The dogs tended to live in the dirt under the mobile homes to stay out of the sun, or the rain, or the snow. Cats roamed freely. When she’d been little, Angela used to feed scraps of food to some of the cats to get the opportunity to pet them.
Because most of the mobile homes were up off the ground on blocks, they all had elevated porches with steps up to them. Some of those steps were wooden, with rickety railings, while others were made of concrete blocks. Most of the elevated porches had corrugated metal awnings overhead, some held aloft with wrought iron, some with a couple of two-by-fours.
Most of the mobile homes were a rust-stained off-white, but there were some that were weather-worn turquoise, mint green, and sky blue. Those with color also had areas of white for contrast.
Mature trees stood among the homes, providing shade. Uncut, dusty weeds grew everywhere. Derelict vehicles sat up on blocks as they were slowly cannibalized, or used for junk storage. Old barbecues and lawn chairs sat around outside many of the homes.
Angela turned down a street with water-filled potholes that looked like bomb craters. Her truck bounced through the unavoidable potholes until she reached her mother’s faded pink and white trailer. The white door and trim were streaked with decades of water and rust stains. A corroded brown air conditioner jutting out a front window was propped up with a scavenged board.
Sally’s faded, maroon Pontiac GTO sat at a crooked angle beside the trailer, one of its back tires long flat. A newer economy car was parked there, too.
After parking, Angela sat for a long moment before she tapped her horn.
Her stomach roiled as she climbed the sagging, gray, wooden steps to the porch. A pair of little, dirty white dogs next door yapped at her. She knocked on the bent aluminum screen door and stood to the side, waiting.
When the door opened, an older, short, round woman peered out. She had on a clean, neat, pale blue dress.
“Hi, I’m Angela.”
The woman immediately broke into a warm smile as she held the door open with one arm and motioned Angela in with her other, as if they were ol
d friends.
“Angela—I’m so happy to meet you at last! I’m Betty. We spoke on the phone. My, but aren’t you a pretty thing, and so tall.” Her face suddenly creased with concern. “How are you, dear? Are you okay?”
This was a woman who was sincerely concerned for the well-being of others. She had a warm heart. Angela found it refreshing, but also troubling. She was the kind of person who often ended up, because of their kind nature, being victimized by evil people.
“I’m feeling a lot better,” Angela said as she stepped through the doorway.
She had used the excuse of her hospital stay as the reason for not being able to come by sooner. It was more believable than saying she had been away gunning down terrorists.
Seeing the inside of the trailer made her insides feel like they were twisting into a knot.
The far wall still had the same wrinkled wallpaper with pink flowers lifting at the seams. It was coming up in more places, now. In one corner a triangle of wallpaper hung down. The wall to the left still had the multilayered brown stain down the middle from years of a leaky roof. The beige linoleum flooring had a missing section in the kitchen corner, leaving the subfloor exposed, the same as when Angela had lived there.
She had forgotten about the off-putting smell of mold. It made her want to hold her breath or at least cover her mouth.
The kitchen table with the tubular chrome legs was still there, but the sagging, blue velour couch was gone, as was the brown vinyl and plaid cloth reclining chair, its bursting seams held together with duct tape. There had always been baskets of dirty clothes lying around, and a lot of clothes that had missed the baskets. Those were all gone, now.
The place seemed so much smaller, so much less threatening, than Angela remembered.
The room had obviously been cleared out to make space for the hospital bed provided by Hospice. There was a heart monitor over the bed as well as a stand with an IV drip.
Hospice provided all the pain medication Sally needed or wanted on the condition that if her heart stopped, there would be no resuscitation. With cancer that had spread through her internal organs there was nothing that could be done for her, and resuscitation would be a pointless exercise of merely gaining a few more pain-filled, delirious, semiconscious hours of life. Hospice meant to make the end of life as dignified and pain free as possible in the comfort of home. In return, the family had to accept it when the patient’s time had come.
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