Everyone and everything he loved and valued was gone. The future, bereft of purpose or meaning, stretched ahead as empty as the grassland where he’d been hidden. Living on the ranch with Michael and his parents appeared to be the only option left, if he wanted to remain safe, free, and most of all – alive.
Pain slanted through his chest when he thought about Danielle. Leaning back, he dug in the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out the gift she’d given him. Michael had plopped the tiny wrapped box in his lap while he lay in the hospital bed in the medical clinic. He’d waited until the casts came off so he could open it himself, alone in the small bedroom that was his in the back end of the clinic. Danielle may not have thought it was much, but it meant the world to him.
Pulling the oversized coin out of the box, he’d read that it was minted from World Trade Center steel and then plated with gold from the vault beneath the wreckage. On one side of the coin, the twin towers were etched in sharp relief. On the other side, in flowing script were the words: We will never forget. 9-11-01. On a piece of paper, Danielle had written a simple note. Rowan, I’m sorry for all you’ve lost, and I’m grateful for all you’ve done. Love, Danielle. He kept the note in a drawer with the few items of clothing Georgia had gotten for him. But he carried the coin with him all the time.
Glancing around, he wondered when Gabriel and Michael would appear. They watched him every day with their binoculars, thinking he didn’t know. The two men treated him like a child, hovering over him, warning him about rattlesnakes, telling him to be careful not to trip and fall into a ravine. How many years had he navigated, without any help, through the dangerous back country of hostile nations? He wasn’t an idiot, for God’s sake, just because he limped. Heaving a sigh, he tried to tamp down the angry thoughts and ignore the ever present humiliation. Without Gabriel and Michael, he’d be in an Egyptian torture prison, lost forever.
The breeze kicked up and he felt a spatter of rain. He stuffed the coin back in his pocket and looked up. Fast moving, low clouds scudded across the sky ahead of towering thunderheads. Staggering to his feet, he brushed dirt, grass and a crushed pink prairie flower off his jeans before starting the slow trek back toward the clinic. Michael and Gabriel would pick him up before he’d gone very far, he knew that.
* * *
Gabriel prowled restlessly around the rusted blue Ford Ranger pickup while Michael perched on the hood with binoculars, watching Rowan. Waving an arm wildly, he strode to the front of the truck. Somehow, he had to make his loco friend understand. “Michael, you know that all the shit he went through screwed him up. Listen to me. Rowan’s not right, he isn’t the man we used to know, and there isn’t a damned thing we can do about it.”
Michael smirked at him and gestured toward the grassy bluff where Rowan sat, then started in with a familiar argument. “You sound like my mother and I get it – he’s suffering from post traumatic stress. But still, we have to tell him. He has a right to know what’s happening to someone he cares about. Who knows, maybe it’ll jolt him back to reality.”
Wiping at the sweat on his face with a tattered red handkerchief, Gabriel stared at his colleague. “But can he handle knowing about Danielle? It’ll kill him to think that she’s been detained because of him. And you know he’ll want to do something to get her released. Doesn’t that concern you, Michael? He’s not fit – either physically or mentally to do anything, but that won’t stop him from trying.”
Michael shrugged and didn’t look at him, just adjusted the binoculars and kept watching Rowan while he answered. “We have to tell him.”
Gazing at Michael, he felt only trepidation. Compassion was not in his friend’s vocabulary. Michael would tell Rowan the unvarnished truth, with no consideration for their friend’s troubled state of mind. And nothing he said would make a difference. Throwing up his hands in defeat, he blustered, “OK, I give up. Let’s go get him. It looks like we could be in for a hell of a storm. If Rowan walks back in the rain, he’ll catch pneumonia again.”
Climbing into the ancient truck, he slammed the door and watched uneasily as Michael lowered the binoculars and jumped from his perch on the truck to the ground. Fat drops of rain fell on the pickup and ran in rivers across the dusty hood. Michael slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition, fixing him with a grim look as he yanked the truck into gear. “You know I think of Rowan as a brother, and I don’t want to cause him more pain. But he needs to know what’s going on. Tell you what – we’ll have this conversation with him in the conference room on the lower level of the clinic. If we have to, we’ll lock him in there while he thinks it through, so he doesn’t go off on some tangent.”
* * *
Back in his room, Rowan watched out the windows as the sky turned from rainy gray, to green, and then to black. The security lights came on in the clinic parking lot, and the day turned pitch dark. Thunder like he’d never heard before rolled in booming echoes across the prairie, accompanied by crackling lightning that seemed to gobble up the sky. Then the rain came hard, pounding the windows while the wind howled. The storm possessed magnificent power, but it left an aura of instability in the air that he didn’t like.
He finished rubbing the dampness from his hair and slung the towel on his bed, gazing without interest as Gabriel and Michael walked into his room. They’d pulled up as he trudged along the gravel road in the rain, just like he’d known they would. “What’s up, what do you want?”
That was as far as he got. Michael clamped a hand on his arm. “Rowan, we need to have a talk.” Michael sounded hell-bent on something, but he wasn’t in the mood for talking.
Trying to yank his arm out of the tight hold, Rowan stared into his colleague’s eyes and felt a frisson of unease. “What’s going on?”
Michael didn’t answer. When he looked at Gabriel, his stocky friend started muttering in Spanish and walked out of the room. His foot hurt, he was cold and tired and didn’t want to play stupid games with either of them. “Look Mike, whatever you want, I’m not interested. Just leave me alone, OK?” He yanked his arm harder, but it didn’t do any good. Michael pulled him out into the hallway.
Frustrated with his ruthless friend, he stopped walking and braced himself, forcing Michael to pivot around him. “What’s the matter with you? I said I don’t want to talk.” His friend, inches taller and pounds heavier, ignored him, dragging him down the hallway and into the elevator. Once inside, Michael punched the button for the lower level, maintaining the grip on his arm. Gabriel slid in before the door closed, still muttering. Twisting his head around, he scowled. “Gabriel, what is going on? Why are we doing this? Has he gone nuts or something?”
Gabriel glanced at Michael and then fixed him with an unreadable stare. “Rowan, we need to talk to you.”
Thoroughly disquieted, looking first at Michael’s hard face, then the strong hand gripping his arm, he had a terrible feeling of déjà vu. These were his friends, so why did he feel like he was being forced to walk a familiar pathway to destruction?
The elevator opened and the three of them walked down the hall, stopping in front of a doorway. Gabriel opened the door, hitting the light switch as they stepped inside. The room had a feeling of disuse, like a dank cellar, with a musty odor that made him want to sneeze. Several wooden chairs and a sturdy, rectangular wooden table were the only furnishings and a single window sat up high near the ceiling. Lightning flashed on the rain spattered panes, but the thunder was muted. Glancing up, he halfway expected to see a meat hook hanging from an eye bolt drilled into the wall. Michael kicked a chair away from the table, let go of his arm and pointed. “Rowan, sit down.”
Used to following directions without question, he sat. Looking up, he rubbed his arm and tried again to reason with his friend. “OK, enough. I’ll talk. What do you want?” He leaned back in the chair, massaged his eyes and gave Michael a bleak look. “Let’s get it over with.”
He watched as Michael pulled out a chair,
sat down, and addressed Gabriel. “All right, help me out here?”
Gabriel flopped down in a chair at the other end of the table. “Michael, settle down. You’re making way too big a deal out of this by dragging us all down here.”
Thinking his friends must have lost their minds, he gestured impatiently at both of them. “Do either of you want to tell me why we’re doing this? Is there some reason we have to talk here instead of upstairs in my room?”
Michael clasped his hands together on the table and looked at him. The wariness he saw in his friend’s eyes only increased his edginess and he stood up. “Start talking, one of you, or I’m out of here.”
Michael sighed heavily. “Rowan, we need to tell you something and to be honest, we’re not sure how you’re going to take it. And just so you know, if necessary, I will lock you in this room.”
Sweat breaking on his forehead and in his armpits at Michael’s words, he sank back down on the chair. “Fine – do whatever you need to. Just stop screwing around and tell me what the hell is going on.”
Gabriel rested his elbows on the table, put his chin in his hands and blinked at him. “Rowan – I want you to know, this conversation was not my idea. In my opinion, you need to continue healing, both physically and mentally.”
Michael ignored Gabriel and stared at him, his mouth a firm line. “All right, I’ll tell you what’s going on, but take it easy. A couple weeks after we got you out of Sioux Falls, the FBI brought Danielle in for questioning. They interviewed her several times over the course of a month or so and then detained her. They’re still holding her in Sioux Falls.”
Stunned to silence, he stared back at Michael, pain tightening his chest at the thought of her being all alone in a cell. Not Danielle…and he hadn’t known. They’d kept him in the dark while she suffered because of him. Anger fired deep inside. He stood up and limped around the table, glaring at first Michael and then Gabriel. “How could you keep this from me? Did Ralph sanction this?” He tapped his chest with a forefinger. “This is my responsibility. She is my responsibility. Goddamn it, I had a right to know.”
Michael raised his hands and let them fall. “You were in no shape to be told, at least not right away. You needed to focus on healing, like Gabriel said. And no, Ralph didn’t have anything to do with this. But Rowan, there’s more. The Bureau has decided to charge Danielle with aiding and abetting. They’re going to move her from Sioux Falls to a women’s prison somewhere in the D.C. area to await trial. Ralph told us that Ainsley is expediting the process, planning a major, public announcement, hoping to bring you out of hiding.”
Bending his head, he closed his eyes and tried to breathe evenly as visions of CIA thugs, Egyptian prisons and unspeakable torture slithered up from the depths of his mind. Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes and looked up, gazing coldly at first Michael and then Gabriel. “It looks like Ainsley wins this one. Get me a phone. I have to call Ralph. I’ll surrender to him if the Bureau will agree to drop all the charges against Danielle and let her go.” He glowered from one man to the other. “That’s the only solution, and don’t think you’re going to tell me no, either of you.”
While he continued staring at his colleagues, Gabriel crossed his arms and smirked at Michael. “I tried to tell you this would happen, but you wouldn’t listen.” Gabriel’s gaze slid his way and his friend looked sad. “Rowan – amigo, we can’t let you turn yourself in to the FBI. Don’t you remember what they want to do with you? Besides, there are other forces at work here, and you know that. Muusa Shemal has paid off too many high level intelligence sources. If you turn yourself in, you’ll be taken to a prison in Egypt. How will that help Danielle?”
Wiping sweaty palms on his jeans while his heart hammered, he tried to quell the terror winding through his mind. Once they had him in captivity, they could do anything they wanted with him. “No. I can’t hide like a coward while Danielle is prosecuted for something she didn’t do. My life is over – it ended when Muusa Shemal put a price on my head.” Stabbing an index finger at his friends, he spoke forcefully. “You can lock me in this room for as long as you want, but it isn’t going to change my mind. Just get me the phone.”
Michael drummed his fingers on the table and looked at him from under dark brows. “What about rescuing Danielle? We could plan an operation the way we always have and keep both of you safe and free. You know Ralph and Chad would help us. I vote for that.”
Why couldn’t they get it? The discussion was over. His decision had been made, and it wasn’t up for a vote. “Mike, these people are diabolical. If I don’t turn myself in now, maybe they’ll up the ante and let Muusa Shemal take Danielle to Torah Prison in order to bring me out of hiding. I can’t let anything else happen to her now that I know what’s going on. Once she’s out of danger, if you can find a way to stop the FBI and CIA before they hand me over as Muusa Shemal’s prize, I’m all for it. Now get me the goddamned phone.”
* * *
One Week Later – Fourth Week In July – Sunday Morning
Ralph kept his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel of the white Chrysler 300 he’d rented at the Sioux Falls airport. Reflecting morosely that it was a nice day for a drive, he barreled west of Sioux Falls on I-90 at eighty-five miles an hour. He barely noticed the gently rolling fields of corn and beans interspersed between pastures populated with scrub trees and cattle that were either glossy black or burnt orange-red. God almighty… How could he deliver his friend into custody? Taking one hand off the wheel to massage the tension in the back of his neck, he wished for any other option.
Ainsley had been giddy with excitement over the prospects of capturing America’s most wanted homegrown terrorist. Unfortunately, that didn’t bode well for Rowan. Once they had their coveted prisoner, the FBI, or possibly even CIA interrogators would waste no time breaking him down to get a confession. Of course, according to Rowan’s colleague, his friend had been mulishly stubborn, unwilling to consider any option besides surrender. He sighed. Rowan hadn’t changed.
Squinting at the mile marker flashing past, he looked for his exit. Michael had explained that he and his cohort would be waiting with Rowan at a rest area overlooking the east side of the Missouri River. The man remained tight-lipped throughout their conversations setting up the details of his friend’s surrender, offering no hints about where Rowan had been hidden.
Ainsley had balked at first, saying No way, when he’d explained that Rowan would only come forward if he kept the operation low-key and managed it alone. Oh no, his boss had wanted a splashy, public Bureau arrest. Then the greedy jerk wanted to figure out a way to hang on to Danielle. But in the end, Ainsley had agreed to Rowan’s demands. And hell, why shouldn’t he? The bastard was getting what he wanted.
Pulling off the interstate, he headed up a hill following a road that curved back across the four lanes of traffic. Cresting the long incline, looking west, his mouth fell open. The Missouri River sparkled at the bottom of the hill with the town of Chamberlain nestled on its banks. Lofty, untamed bluffs shimmered in the heat on the west side of the river. Compared to the pastoral fields on the east side, his first view of West River, as he’d heard the locals call it, looked like an entirely different country.
Cruising slowly through the rest area looking for a parking space, he saw a South Dakota Highway Patrol station. The actual rest area building, a Tourist Information Center was further along and had scattered white picnic tables separated with stone walls and cement overhangs. A huge teepee made of cement poles sat adjacent to the building.
He pulled into a parking spot and shut off the car. Glancing out the window, he saw Rowan, almost unrecognizable with shoulder length hair and a sparse beard, lounging at one of the picnic tables between two men sporting ball caps and sunglasses. Together they made a menacing trio, and he felt the hair on his arms rising as he watched them.
Climbing stiffly out of the car, he winced for the first few steps until his joints limbered up
. Despite the situation, a smile creased his face. It was good to see his friend in one piece instead of lying in a hospital bed. Raising a hand, he waved. Rowan stood up, nodded and walked toward him with a slight limp.
Not sure what to expect, he faced the younger man on the cement walkway. “It’s good to see you, but I wish the circumstances were different.”
Rowan stared at him, eyes cold. “Let’s get this over with, Ralph. Do you need to cuff me here?”
How had he forgotten what a jerk Rowan could be? “Aw come on, don’t pull this shit with me. Not now, not this time. And no, I don’t need to cuff you here. We’ll stop a few miles from Sioux Falls and take care of that.”
Rowan gave him an indifferent shrug and looked past him. “All right, let’s get going. I don’t want Danielle to be detained a minute longer than necessary.”
So that’s how Rowan wanted to play it. Turning on his heel, he intended to wave at the other two men, but stopped short. They had disappeared. He headed back toward the car, walked to the passenger side and opened the front door, before Rowan could climb in the back like a prisoner, which was exactly what the damn idiot would do.
Amazed at how quickly he’d become irritated, he frowned. This time he wasn’t going to put up with his friend’s rotten attitude. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he watched Rowan get in the car, glimpsing raised scars on the younger man’s wrists beneath the long-sleeved shirt. “Look, I know I can’t make this any easier for you, but damn it, you’re like a son. It’s killing me to do this.”
As they pulled onto the eastbound lane of I-90, Rowan turned sideways in the seat, his face a hard mask. “I’m sorry. I hate that Danielle’s been detained because of me and I just…I don’t want to think about what’s coming my way. Michael and Gabriel insist they’ve got a plan in the works to pull me out, but I can’t depend on that. You know as well as I do that once we arrive wherever Ainsley wants me, it’s over. Who knows what will happen?”
Consummate Betrayal Page 21