by David Beers
Luke turned from the living room and walked into the kitchen. He wanted a drink, and found the liquor cabinet easily enough. He took a glass and poured himself a double shot of scotch, aged 18 years. He lifted it to his nose, breathed in, and then sipped the golden liquid.
He didn’t turn around as he heard the fat man’s feet waddle into the kitchen.
“What’s next?”
Luke took another sip, savoring the liquor in which so much work and time had gone into its creation. What was next? That was the question he needed to answer. Luke wasn’t drinking due to stress or sadness, it was in celebration.
He knew that they had attacked Christian’s office, but the overall death count would be relatively low. Christian had been on a higher floor when Luke worked with him, and regardless, he got to work early (if he even left the building). The chances of him being in the lobby when everything happened were small, and outweighed by the importance of people he knew dying. Of watching people he knew die.
“Come, have one with me,” he said and poured another glass. He didn’t find the fat man pleasant, but a celebration should be done with others. He turned and handed a glass to Charles. “Today has been a good day and it’s not yet noon. To war.”
The two touched glasses and drank. Luke lowered his and then looked down at the fat man.
“What’s next?” he asked again.
The man was insatiable, and Luke thought he might know it. A rare trait in people, the ability to understand their weaknesses and strengths. The man thought his insatiability was a strength, though … and right now it was.
“I’ll need some time to review what happened today. I’ll be in touch shortly.”
Luke finished his glass and placed it down on the counter. He turned and headed through the kitchen, making his way to the door.
“Hold on a goddamn second. You’ll be in touch shortly? That’s not going to work for me, friend. We just declared war on the federal government, and you going into hiding isn’t good for me. The money from this attack was well and good, but I’m not keen on waiting for you while the FBI figures out who did this. We need to act fast.”
Luke stopped walking. He had never involved someone in his actions like this before, and the reason why was right behind him. Their desires, their wants—all so petty and silly. He turned back around, looking at the fat, short man.
“You will be safe, as long as you took the advised precautions. We are on a timeline, Mr. Twaller, but not yours. We’re on my timeline, and it’s going to work perfectly if you act properly. So far you’ve shown you can, and that you’re more than capable. Please do not ruin this. It would be most disappointing.”
The man said nothing for a second and Luke saw he was considering a shootout right here in his home. Mr. Twaller wasn’t unhinged, exactly, though he could become so if allowed. Luke would hate to kill him now, and it might actually ruin what was to come.
“When will you be in touch?”
“Tomorrow,” Luke said, holding the man’s gaze like a titanium clasp.
“Okay. Tomorrow then.”
Luke looked for another second, seeing the man’s moment of contemplating murder had passed.
He left the house, ready to talk to Christian.
Chapter 9
Veronica, or Betsy Arnold depending on who you were, watched the television with sick fear … and yet fascination.
Her entire office stood around the break room’s television. Veronica had pushed her way to the front, not caring who she might anger by doing so.
“What the hell is going on?” someone asked. “Is it terrorists?”
Veronica studied the TV, the news station switching back and forth from the different attack sites. All of them FBI buildings. And the one in Atlanta …
Tears pricked her eyes and she quickly reached up to wipe them away. No one was looking at her right now, which was good, but she still had to hold it together.
It might be terrorism, but Veronica’s heart said something else. It spoke two words.
Luke Titan.
And then just one, the name she always called him by.
Luke.
Any number of things could be happening right now, but Veronica was quickly discarding them all. Those men on the television, not a single one looked Muslim (even if the overhead view was high up, she saw not a single beard among the attackers). A domestic terrorism attack? Not hardly. The largest one had been committed by a lone wolf, Timothy McVeigh, and he’d never gathered the kind of force this required.
This was organization.
This was money.
This was an attack on Christian’s place of work.
Luke, her heart told her again. He’s back. Two years, but he’s come back.
The thoughts ran quickly through her head as people talked around her, asking questions that no one could answer. Veronica pushed them from her mind, letting her own logic take over. She knew very well that she would never be Christian or Luke when it came to raw brainpower, but she wasn’t a slouch. She didn’t need the proverbial weatherman to tell her which way the wind was blowing.
Hadn’t Christian chased him? Hadn’t he hounded Luke to the far ends of the Earth, traveling across continents to try and bring the man low? Veronica knew Luke would come back, that he wouldn’t be finished in America until he did what he wanted with Christian (and not to mention her), but this? He had never operated like this before. He was always behind the scenes, manipulating other people’s psychology as much as anything else.
This wasn’t him in the sense of how he preferred to work, but he was the only person capable of this.
Luke, her heart said, bringing both fear and hope. Fear for her life, but not of dying. Death was fine, something she had thought much of lately, but death at Luke’s hand? Veronica could lose her soul in that.
Isn’t that what you’re doing now? In hiding from Luke? From life? Hasn’t your soul already been dying day by day?
Yes, it had. Yes, it was.
His name also brought hope, though.
Veronica walked from the room, wiping at her eyes. She didn’t know if suicide was off the table, but she knew she was done hiding from Luke. If he was to have Christian’s and Tommy’s souls, then why let hers die slowly while they fought with a fury she had ignored? No. If Luke was back, she’d invite the son-of-a-bitch to come take her.
Tommy and Christian sat in Waverly’s D.C. office. The amount of security it took to get up here lengthened their trip by an hour, and Tommy was truly impressed with the number of armed guards on every floor.
Tommy and Christian were known in Washington. They had been briefly known nationwide, by the entire country—not only by fellow FBI agents. Tommy saw respect in the agents’ eyes that recognized him, if some pity, too. He did his best to ignore it, which was easy to do with his body, but harder with his mind. He didn’t want their pity or their recognition—not even any pride. He wanted them to find Luke Titan, or at the least, stop Luke from killing anyone else.
“I’m guessing neither of you have slept,” Waverly said.
“No, sir,” Tommy whispered. The attack was 24 hours ago, almost to the minute, and Waverly had wasted no time in getting them up to D.C.—as soon as he confirmed their safety, a plane was dispatched to pick them up.
“Don’t expect to be getting any soon,” the Director said. “Christian, I want you to set an appointment with Hanson today. No, don’t argue about it. Just tell him I want him to clear his schedule for an hour. I can’t have you losing it right now.”
Tommy’s eyes shifted to Christian, seeing his mouth open to protest, though Waverly had basically cut him off.
“The nationwide body count is over 200 already, and that’s just on our side. It’ll probably increase by 50% if we include the attackers. You two have had a day to think, now you tell me, is this Luke?”
Tommy and Christian had argued for two months about the probability of Luke’s plans, with Tommy’s theory finally winning a few day
s ago. The plane ride to D.C. was quiet, though, as both realized Christian had been right.
“We believe that to be the case,” Christian said.
Waverly stood up from behind the desk and walked to the glass windows which looked out from his office onto the city. He was quiet for some time, much longer than Tommy had seen before. Tommy didn’t know what to say either, with Christian apparently at a loss for words as well.
Shock, that’s what they were in, and Tommy knew the state well. He’d probably been in it for nearly a year after Luke stabbed a knife through his neck. They just couldn’t believe what had happened yesterday, though Tommy had missed the worst of it. He spent the attack down in the subbasement, not seeing the blood and guts pouring out across the building’s lobby. Christian had shoved Simone through the muck, and Waverly had spent the last ten hours with survivors.
Still, Tommy found it hard to understand the destruction Luke had created.
“I have to talk with the press again this morning, and I don’t want to give Luke credit for this, but I don’t know what else to tell them,” Waverly said, his back still to them. Tommy had never heard Waverly say he didn’t know what to do, nor heard him sound so … defeated. “A hundred dead and another 300 wounded. Fifty of them will die today. Probably another 20 tomorrow … Is this the devil? Is Luke the devil incarnate?”
Tommy glanced over at Christian; he was leaning back in his chair, slumped and staring at his shoes.
“What’s he going to do next, Christian?” Waverly said. “You thought he would do something like this, and he did. So what’s next?”
“I don’t know, sir. I haven’t had time to process any of this.”
“Process?” Waverly said, turning around, his voice rising. “Time to fucking process, Christian? Do you think Luke is processing? No. He’s getting ready to wipe out another hundred of my goddamn employees, so forgive me if I need you to have already processed all this. Forgive me, Christian, if I need you to work a little faster than you currently fucking are.”
Tommy’s eyes widened as much as they could, which was only slightly. He’d heard aggression from the Director before, but not out and out insults.
“Sir,” Tommy said. Waverly looked to him, the anger in his face turning and refocusing as he did. Tommy didn’t hesitate, but kept speaking. “You want us to catch him, but what have you done since the attack occurred? As soon as we finished giving our statements, which took nearly an entire day, you put us on a plane and brought us up here. We’ve had barely an hour to debrief with each other, much less create any plans. We haven’t been able to begin an investigation. I’m saying this with all due respect, sir, and you know I respect you, but we’re going to need a few hours to get a handle on what just happened.”
“A few hours? And when Luke drops a goddamn nuke on our New York office, do you think you’ll need more time, or will you be ready to go then?”
Tommy wasn’t backing down. “Sir, it’s your job to protect against any future attacks. It’s our job to find Luke. I’m asking you to let us do it.”
He felt Christian’s eyes on him and he saw Waverly’s. Silence reigned in the room, but Tommy kept his gaze firm. At one point in his life, he might have been cowed by this man, but what did a glare matter when you couldn’t stand up from your fucking chair?
Waverly broke the staring contest, looking down at the floor.
“A leader should apologize when he’s wrong. I believe that, though I don’t always do it. You’re right, Tommy. I’m sorry. I just … God damn it. He got you two first, and now all these other people. Folks who didn’t know him, who never met him, who had goddamn lives.” He looked back up. “We’ve got to find him. We’ve got to neutralize him. Do you understand?”
Tommy did, and knew Christian did as well.
And then the world exploded for the second time in less than two days.
Waverly’s assistant knocked on the door, not waiting to be let in.
“Sir, you’re going to want to see this.”
It didn’t take long to get on television. Veronica hadn’t lost a single media contact over the past two years. Within 24 hours (the majority of them spent making sure she was prepared to actually do this), she was back on TV. Makeup, hair, everything.
“Ladies and gentleman, I’m Brooke Yields and this is The War Room. Right now, we have an exclusive interview which has direct bearing on the FBI attacks yesterday. I’m sitting across from Veronica Lopez. She was once a bestselling author, and grew even more famous through the horrific kidnappings which turned out to be orchestrated by the notorious ex-FBI agent, Dr. Luke Titan. Ms. Lopez disappeared from the public eye two years ago when Luke Titan became a fugitive, with no one—not even her book agent—knowing where she went. Ms. Lopez is here today to tell her story, and offer insight into what happened yesterday.” The host turned from the camera to Veronica. “Thank you for coming.”
“Certainly.”
“So, you’re here now, though you haven’t been heard from for the past two years. Where did you go?”
Here it was, the end of what her and the FBI tried to build: a wall of protection, wrapping around her so high and so tight that she couldn’t see over it. She was going to destroy it all with the next sentence, and she hadn’t bothered to even call her handler. Once she had made the decision, she acted.
No turning back now.
“I went into Witness Protection, Brooke. It was well known that Luke Titan would kill me if he knew where I was, and I felt my only option was to give up my identity and go into hiding.”
“Yet, you’re back? Did the FBI approve of you coming on this show?”
“They’re learning of it now, just as your audience is.”
The hostess did a good job of not reacting too much, though Veronica saw her eyes widen slightly. Her mouth remained still, however, which was a good catch. It only took her a second to speak again.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t alert the FBI you were coming on our show? My producer told me you had.”
“I lied to him, Brooke.” Veronica looked off the set to Ralph, the producer—someone she’d known for years. “Sorry, Ralph, but I knew you wouldn’t bring me on if you knew I was going rogue.”
“Okay,” Brooke said, trying to regain control of the interview. “Nothing we can do about that now, I suppose. What made you do this? What brought you out of hiding?”
Veronica remained composed even as she knew what she said next would enrage Christian, Tommy, and Waverly. She knew that it might be jeopardizing an entire mission, but she didn’t care. If Luke wanted her, he could have her.
“Luke Titan was responsible for those attacks yesterday.”
“Luke Titan? Do you have any evidence to support these claims?”
“Not a shred, Brooke, but I know it’s him. I’m putting my life at risk right now, that’s how confident I am that he did this. He’s after his former partners, the men he almost killed two years ago. If he wants them, then he can come get me, too.”
The television was on in Luke’s hotel room, and it didn’t matter which station he turned to, the news was all the same. Each channel did only one thing: reported on his war.
And he thought it would continue that way … until he heard Veronica Lopez’s voice.
“So, you’re here now, though you haven’t been heard from for the past two years. Where did you go?”
Luke heard the host ask the question and he stopped ironing his suit. He placed the iron down on the board and walked through the bedroom and into the suite’s living room.
There, on the television, was the woman he thought he’d lost. He’d spent considerable time trying to discover what had happened to her, but ultimately figured the FBI took her underground. With more time, he might have been able to find her, yet now she was sitting in front of him on the television.
Luke listened to her speak as a smile grew on his face. He’d been just about ready to go see Christian; Luke was in D.C. just as his ex-partner wa
s. Waverly was many things, one of them being predictable. He needed to feel in control of the situation, so he would have flown Christian and Tommy up immediately.
Both were alive, Luke was sure of that. He’d watched the two of them board their private plane from 300 yards away, Tommy’s nurse pushing his wheelchair up the ramp.
And now, another gift. Ms. Lopez apparently deciding she wanted a piece of Luke, too.
He stood in front of the television and watched the entire interview, imagining how angry Waverly would be when he heard about it. Luke hoped he was watching right now. Hoped his blood pressure was rising and that he’d start pressuring Christian to make some magic happen. To go deep into his mansion and find out what Luke was planning next.
“Thank you, Veronica,” Luke said, smiling.
She had just made his job so much easier.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Waverly said. “This is a fucking joke, right?”
The three of them stood in his office, the flat screen television on the wall showing Veronica’s face. Christian hadn’t seen her in years, except in his mansion. He couldn’t take his eyes from her, and though Waverly was nearly raving, Christian barely heard him.
She’s so beautiful, and yet …
She’s haunted. It’s all through her. I might have a scar on my face, but she’s got them all over. You might have to stare a little harder to see them, but they’re there all the same.
“Teresa, get whoever is her handler on the phone. Right now. I don’t care what he’s doing.” Waverly didn’t turn from the television as he spoke. Christian listened as his assistant hurried from the room, her heels pounding hard on the carpeted floor as she hustled along. “What’s next? Luke’s going to be interviewed? You think the media will put him on, too?”
No one else said anything, just listened as Veronica spoke. Fear started creeping over Christian as the shock of seeing his former lover dissipated. She was in danger now, as much as Tommy and Christian. Perhaps more, because what protection did she have around her?