by Ben Follows
She nodded. Johnson poured both glasses half full. He slid one across the desk to Frankie, who grabbed it and smelled the whiskey. She wrinkled her nose at the smell.
Johnson leaned back in his chair and loosened his tie. "Aged twenty-five years," he said, looking at the glass. "That bottle has been in my cabinet for almost five years. I take it out whenever I feel that there's a need."
"You feel like there's a need now?"
"Yes," said Johnson. "Let's drink to Curtis and the health of his family."
Frankie smiled and clinked glasses with Johnson. "I'll drink to that."
Chapter 40
Curtis and Melanie stood in the hallway, standing over their baby. Neither had even considered sleeping.
At around two in the morning, Curtis left to get some snacks to sustain the two of them. The hospital was still alive, and the lights were on. Nurses walked from room to room, and there was the same commotion coming from different rooms that seemed to always be present in hospitals. Birth, death, suffering, and relief all happened under this one roof.
As he walked, Curtis didn't want to think about Sophie, but he did want to think.
He had too thoughts right now. As he walked, his mind drifted to Sophie, and he had to force himself not to break down in the middle of the hallway.
He continued walking through the hospital, careful to keep his dangerous thoughts at bay. His mind drifted to Jason Wilson.
His thoughts kept drifting to the young girl being held captive.
Curtis had tried to get him to tell him the name of the head of the mercenary organization, but Jason had refused. Jason had told him that he would only give him the information if Curtis got him out alive.
Curtis had seen the look in his eyes. It was the look of a desperate father willing to do anything to save his child. He had related to him more closely than he had to almost anyone else at that moment, father to father.
He knew Jason was telling the truth. He had promised Jason he would save his daughter.
But he also couldn't leave Sophie. He had to be here.
He felt like he was being ripped in two directions, between promises he had made which were on a collision course.
"Hello, Curtis."
Curtis froze in the hallway, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He knew the voice so clearly, but he had never expected to hear it here. A flurry of thoughts filled his mind, but he took a deep breath and turned around.
The woman in front of him was different than he remembered. She was just over five feet, and her skin had a slight tinge of brown. Her naturally blonde hair had been dyed a dark brown.
Curtis looked her up and down, feeling so many memories just beneath the surface of his mind.
"Amber," he said. "What are you doing here?"
Chapter 41
"God Damn it!" Raymond screamed, chucking a baseball across the gallery. The ball missed the painting he'd been aiming at and bounced off the wall, rolling along the marble floors before coming to a stop.
"Are you okay?" said Meredith, standing behind him.
Raymond clenched and unclenched his fists, his heart beating so fast he could feel it.
It had all been going so well. Jason just needed to bring him the hacker, and he would have proven that he had what it takes to take over his father's company.
But everything had gone to hell. Jason was dead, the hacker was dead, and the FBI might be coming for him at any moment.
And now he had to figure out what the hell he was going to with the ten-year-old girl who had been kept in the secret cottage for the last three weeks.
He took a deep breath and looked back at Meredith. She had been his closest confidant for a long time. What she lacked in warmth and friendliness she made up for in intelligence and fierce loyalty. He would trust her with his life.
He gestured for her to follow and walked through the gallery.
He looked back at the painting he had thrown the baseball at. It was an immense painting of the Eiffel tower that had been done by a British artist in the early 1900s when the tower was relatively new. His father had always loved this painting. He had spent time standing in this gallery in the middle of his estate, just staring at it.
Raymond had never understood it. The best he could understand, his father loved the painting because he had paid a lot of money for it, and that meant he was a success.
His father had loved this painting in a way he had never loved Raymond. Raymond only knew about the gallery and its contents because of the times he had snuck down here in the middle of the night. Most of the time the gallery was locked, his father making sure no one except him and his elite inner circle got access to what he called "The most exclusive gallery of fine paintings and antiquities on earth."
Sometimes, Raymond would sneak down here to look at the paintings and art.
He had been trying to understand why his father was so obsessed. What was it about these things -- and they really were nothing more than just things -- that made him so crazy and possessive? Raymond had never been able to figure it out.
Now, for all intents and purposes, this gallery was his.
His father was lying in a bedroom on the third floor in the east wing, and he would be dead within the week, if not sooner.
The will, which originally hadn't included Raymond in it at all, had been revised to make sure everything in his father's empire would come to him.
Then, these paintings and things would be his to do with as he liked.
He could burn them all.
He walked down the hall with Meredith in tow. He would be meeting with the generals in the morning.
"How's the girl?" he said. He couldn't bring himself to use her name. He had to think of her as a thing instead of a living breathing child who he would be obligated to kill.
"She's fine," said Meredith. "I've been playing with her as you instructed, and she's stopped crying so much. Although I believe that she may be having some medical issues from lack of exercise and not getting outside."
"This will all be over soon," said Raymond. "Either way, that won't be a problem anymore."
"Sir?"
Raymond stopped and turned back to her. He was at the bottom of the stairs, set to walk up to his bed and try to get some sleep before waking up and preparing to meet with the Generals.
Meredith was standing at the bottom of the steps, looking up at him.
"If the times comes when you need to kill the girl, will you be able to do it?" she said bluntly.
"Of course," Raymond said. "Of course, I'll kill the girl. I wouldn't be able to run this place if that was a stumbling block for me, could I?"
Meredith looked at him for a long moment. She had been trained in various martial arts, and Raymond knew just enough about her past to realize she wasn't someone that was to be messed with.
"Okay," she said. She paused for a moment, then looked up at him, as though she’d made a decision. "Do you mind if I speak candidly, Raymond?"
Raymond was standing on the fifth step up to the bedrooms. He made sure no one was around, then walked down a few steps.
"What?" he said.
She looked at him with that deadly seriousness she’d always been able to conjure at a moment’s notice.
"I worked for your father for a long time," she said. "I saw the things he was willing to do to keep this ship running. You aren't like him. I don't think you'll be able to kill Gillian."
Raymond flinched at the mention of the girl's name. "Are you saying I'm weak?"
"No," said Meredith. "I'm saying that I don't think that you're cold enough to kill a child, no matter how much you want to fill your father's shoes and prove to the generals that you are strong enough to lead them."
"So what?" said Raymond. "You don't believe in me? Thanks a lot. I'm going to go to bed."
"Raymond."
Raymond had started turning around, but he turned back to Meredith.
"Look," said Meredith, "what I'm trying to tell
you is that I'm more experienced than you are. I've been in war zones and seen atrocities committed. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't done a few things that I wish I could take back."
Raymond looked down at her and shrugged. "I still don't get what you're trying to say."
"What I'm trying to say," said Meredith, "is that when the time comes to kill the girl, if you find that you have the gun in your hand and can't bring yourself to pull the trigger, I'll do it for you."
Chapter 42
"Amber," said Curtis, staring at the woman in front of him. She looked exactly as he had imagined. She was older and looked more experienced, but she was still Amber, the person he had once fallen in love with.
If he was being honest with himself, as his therapist had forced him to be, he had never stopped loving her. There had been times when he had woken up in the middle of the night and gone on a walk, wondering whether it would have been better if he had stayed with Amber, whether he could have convinced himself to stay with her, that her lies and cheating weren't the end of the world.
He had always managed to convince himself otherwise, partially because of promises he'd made to Melanie.
"Hi," said Amber, raising a hand just a little, as though she was nervous. After a moment, she said, "I was glad to get your call."
Curtis took a few steps towards Amber. He held out a hand just as she went to hug him, then he went to hug her, and she went to shake his hand. After a moment of awkwardness, they both withdrew their arms and looked at each other.
"What are you doing here?" said Curtis.
"I work here," said Amber. "I've been working in administration here for about a year and a half. That was always something you wanted me to do, wasn't it? Get a real job?"
"I'm happy for you," said Curtis. He looked around. They were standing in the middle of the hallway. Although the hospital was almost empty, there were still nurses and a few patients moving past them in the hallway, their eyes downcast as though they could sense there was an awkward conversation taking place between Curtis and Amber. "Is there somewhere we can go that might be a bit more private?"
"Yeah," said Amber. "Come with me."
They walked in silence to a staff room. Amber swiped her employee card, and they walked inside. They took their seats on a few couches that were set up around a television. This room seemed much happier than the rest of the hospital, and Curtis felt a sense of calm overcoming him as he looked around the room.
He fell onto the couch and had to sit up to make sure that he didn't fall asleep.
"Want something to drink?" said Amber, walking to the small kitchen on the side of the lounge.
"Just a glass of water," said Curtis. "I'd like to actually get some sleep before the morning."
"Sure," said Amber.
She walked back to the table and handed a glass of water to Curtis.
Curtis eyed Amber with suspicion. She was acting the same as she always had, even though there were things they needed to talk about.
"I wanted to say I was sorry," said Curtis. "I know I said that on the phone, but I wanted to say it face to face."
"Do you regret it?" said Amber, a trace of an accusation coming into her voice. "Do you regret abandoning Cameron and I?"
Curtis leaned back in his chair. He had to focus. He didn't want to cave. He finally had the chance to say the things he had spent almost a decade thinking about.
"I don't regret what I did," said Curtis. "I don't regret leaving you and Cameron, the child that wasn't mine. You lied to me and deceived me into raising a child that wasn't mine. I do regret how I did it. I regret leaving in the middle of the night without giving you the decency of an explanation."
"Well," said Amber, "why not give me an explanation now?"
Curtis looked up at her and shook his head. "Not until I get an explanation for why I was raising a child who wasn't mine for months."
Amber shrugged. Out the window behind her, the moon snuck out from behind the clouds for just a moment.
"I don't regret it," said Amber. "I would have gone the kid's entire life without telling you, but there was some . . . complications."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Cameron's father is a deadbeat drug addict," said Amber. "To this day, he wants to be a part of his son's life, but he can't get a job. He works on construction sites every week and then talks about how he's going to get his music career back on track. Despite all that, he'll show up to work on Monday hungover and still high on cocaine. He's honest about his problems, and he seems to have no problem talking about his issues, but it's heartbreaking to see that."
"Yeah," said Curtis. "Can he get his shit together?"
"I don't know," said Amber. "He's almost sixty years old."
Curtis raised an eyebrow. "He's over two decades older than us?"
"Yeah," said Amber. "Is that really the end of the world? He cared about me while you cared about nothing but work. Get over yourself, Curtis."
Curtis shook his head incredulously. "Were you always like this?" he said. "Were you always so crazy? Was I just so blinded by my love for you that I never noticed it?"
Amber shrugged. "I don't care what you think, Curtis. I wanted my son to have a good upbringing. You were a smart guy destined for great things. I had hoped you would get a job at a bank or something. You're clearly successful, but how well does the FBI really pay, Curtis? Are you going to be able to support your daughter on a government salary?"
"That was all you ever wanted, wasn't it?" said Curtis.
"What?"
"Money." Curtis stared at her. "You just wanted some guy to give you a credit card with no limit and tell you that you could spend it however you wanted?"
Amber shrugged. "Is that such a terrible thing to want?"
"You know I don't care about the money, right?" said Curtis. "Wanting to be in the FBI was never about the money, and that's what you never understood."
"That was one of the things I tried to change about you, Curtis," said Amber. "You care so much about saving people that you forget the people around you. You want so badly to save everyone that you ignore the people closest to you."
Curtis sighed. "I'm happy with Melanie. I would never let anything happen to her or Sophie. They are the most important things in my life. I never have the doubts about Melanie and Sophie that I had about you and Cameron."
"We'll see," said Amber. "We were together for four years. I know you better than you think. I've seen you at your lowest, and I know how you think. I think there will come a time, maybe sooner and maybe later, when you will need to choose between your family and your interpretation of the greater good. I think you'll save the world. I think you'll be a hero, but I think it will destroy your life."
"What are you getting out of this?" said Curtis.
"What do you mean?"
"You're trying to rip me apart piece by piece like you're some kind of psychiatrist. What are you getting out of trying to deconstruct me and act like you know me better than I know myself?"
Amber leaned back and crossed her arms. "I'm good at reading people."
Curtis laughed. "God, how many times have I heard that. Everyone thinks they're great at reading people, and almost no one actually is. You think you can read me, but you're no better than anyone else."
"That's what I thought you'd say."
Curtis felt the urge to hit her across the face but restrained himself. "How's Cameron?"
"He's fine," said Amber. "He's ten now, and he's enjoying school. He wants to be an astronaut. I think that he might have picked up a bit of your ambition as well."
"Isn't an astronaut just another job working for the government?" said Curtis. "How is that any different than what you've been mocking about my job?"
Amber shrugged. "Astronauts are cooler."
"Were you getting the money I was sending?"
"Yeah," said Amber. "Until a few years ago when we moved. I thought you would be able to track us with all your fancy government
tech, but I suppose not. I was pretty pissed off when the money stopped arriving, and I had to get a job."
"Oh no," said Curtis sarcastically, "you had to get a job. You seem to have done well for yourself anyway."
"Yeah," said Amber, looking around at the hospital. "I work a lot, but it pays nicely, especially since I don't have much experience. They seem to like me. I might even be getting a promotion soon."
"That's awesome," said Curtis. "Congratulations."
"Thanks." Amber took a deep breath. "I knew you were here. I saw your daughter’s name on the patient registry. I'm sorry about what's happening to her. We have some highly skilled doctors here who will take care of her."
"Thanks," said Curtis. He stood. "I need to get back to Melanie. It was nice talking to you, Amber."
"Yeah," said Amber.
Curtis looked back at her for a moment, then he turned and walked away from her.
He grabbed some snacks and walked back to Melanie. She absent-mindedly took a bag of chips from him and never took her eyes off Sophie. Curtis looked in as well.
He stood there for a long time, looking at his daughter, wondering what he could do to help, and feeling useless when he realized the answer was nothing.
Chapter 43
The moment that the New York Times became available, it was brought to the office where Frankie and Johnson were waiting. Frankie had fallen asleep at about three AM after a few glasses of whiskey. Johnson had opened up to her a bit while they had been drinking.
He had told her about his childhood in Arizona, how he had never known his father and how his mother had worked three jobs to support him. He had told her how he had played basketball as a young child only to quit when he was ten to focus on school work so he could get a degree. He had spoken about how he had bought his mother a house when he had finished university and acquired his first job at a wall street firm.
He had spoken about Curtis briefly, talking about he was worried about Curtis and how the case was affecting him. He had refused to elaborate on that point when Frankie pressed him, but it was enough that Frankie had filed it away in her mind.