Patrick, Eoin, Cian, and Ben were standing in a small 1950s-era waiting room in an outdated research building. The walls were stark white against the worn wide-plank wood floors. Peeling vinyl chairs lined the walls, and ancient magazines lay stacked on the end table. The room smelled like the inside of a moldy old book.
“Would you like me to announce you, General?” the secretary asked.
She looked up for the first time and smiled at Patrick. At least seventy, her slight flush and fluster indicated that she and Patrick had been close. Patrick touched her shoulder in a kind, “I remember you” way. She gave him a genuine smile. She glanced at Ben, and he nodded to her.
“Don’t bother,” Patrick said. “I know the way.”
Patrick opened the heavy wooden office door.
“Cameron!”
Patrick walked into the small office. Cian looked at Eoin and they followed. Bookcases lined the walls and sun-bleached Asian rugs covered the wood floors. A radiant heater tapped in the corner. Despite the warm-looking setting, there was something cold and severe about the office. Cian shivered.
Dr. Cameron Singer pushed his reading glasses onto his forehead and stood from his wide oak desk. He had thinning white hair, a round face, and a slim body. He held a fountain-tip pen in his hand, and there was an open journal on his desk. He wore a white lab coat over wool pants, a blue dress shirt, and a matching tie.
True to his spy nature, Ben was the last in the room. Ben closed the door, but only moved an inch or so away from it. Cian and Eoin stopped walking when they hit the Asian rug under Dr. Singer’s desk.
Dr. Singer’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he settled on a broad smile. He dropped the fountain-tip pen in his right lab coat pocket.
“Patrick!” Dr. Singer came around the desk to shake Patrick’s hand. “Can it be?”
Dr. Singer turned to Eoin.
“Eoin Mac Kinney! As I live and breathe,” Dr. Singer wagged his index finger at Eoin. “You, young man, have destroyed my best work.”
“Yes, sir,” Eoin said.
“And you must be Cian Kelly,” Dr. Singer said. “Should I have security check my car?”
“No sir,” Cian said. “I’m a baker now.”
“Yes, I’ve heard,” Dr. Singer said.
When Dr. Singer turned to Ben, Cian shifted closer to Eoin. The Irish volunteers eyed the exits for a fast retreat. Instinctively, they edged back into a more protected corner of the room near the bookcases. Dr. Singer nodded to Ben. Ben gave him a kind of bow.
“What can I do for you?” Dr. Singer asked as he turned back to Patrick.
Patrick grabbed the doctor by the throat and lifted him off the ground. Surprised, Eoin stepped back and bumped into Cian.
“They are my children, my twins, my Sami. How dare you!”
Patrick’s voice was low, and his demeanor deadly calm. His face held the rage of a father and the power of an experienced soldier. Holding the doctor by the throat, Patrick brought the man’s face within an inch of his own.
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” Dr. Singer whispered.
“You think you can try to kill my children and get away with it? You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” Patrick said. “Why would you do it?”
“Then she’s not dead,” Dr. Singer said. “That’s not good.”
“For who you stupid fuck?” Patrick asked. Patrick shook the man. “Tell me.”
Dr. Singer smiled. Furious, Patrick squeezed his throat.
“Tell me!” Patrick sneered.
“Paddie look out!” Cian yelled.
Dr. Singer jammed the nib of his fountain tip pen into his own neck. Blood sprayed from the wound. Patrick squeezed down on the man’s carotid artery in an attempt to slow the bleeding. Ben jumped forward and pressed his handkerchief into the oozing puncture would. The two men held Dr. Singer in the air.
“I always wondered if that would work,” Dr. Singer said.
“Why?” Patrick said. “Tell me why or I’ll let go.”
Dr. Singer’s eyes held Patrick’s for a long moment before he wrenched his body out of Patrick’s hold.
“No!” Eoin screamed.
“I guess the joke’s on . . . you.” Dr. Singer said as he fell to the floor. Eoin and Cian jumped back. Blood sprayed across the white walls.
The doctor glanced at Eoin for a moment, before he died.
“What was that?” Ben towered over Eoin.
“Get off him,” Cian pushed Ben away from Eoin.
“Men,” Patrick said. “We have a minute or less.”
“What was that?” Ben asked.
“I don’t know,” Eoin said. “I’m not fakin’; I don’ have any idea.”
Ben nodded.
“He taped every interaction. Find his video camera,” Patrick said. “I can’t move or I’ll track blood everywhere. Ben stop. You’re covered, too.”
Cian went to the desk. He grabbed the notebook and stuffed it down the back of his pants. Eoin riffled through the drawers. He grabbed a stack of files from the bottom drawer and tucked them into his sports jacket.
“Video,” Patrick pointed to the long bookcase along the wall to the left of the door. “It’s got to be over there.”
Cian carefully checked each shelf.
“Dr. Singer?” the secretary asked through the door.
Cian found the camera. He yanked it from its fitting and stuffed it in his pocket.
“Does it go anywhere?” Ben asked.
Cian shook his head.
“Jane!” Patrick said. “Call the police.”
“What . . . ?” The door handle turned.
Patrick nodded to Cian. He met the secretary at the door.
“Don’ come in here,” Cian said. “He’s gone and offed himself.”
The elderly woman did something strange; she looked at Cian and nodded. She glanced around the room.
“With his pen?” she asked.
“Yes ma’am,” Cian said.
She turned her wrist over to look at her watch. She gave Cian a sincere nod and walked out of the office. Cian was so surprised he didn’t know what to say. She reappeared with a roll of butcher paper, a heavy duffle bag, and three young men.
“Paddie, I only have fatigues,” she said.
“That will do,” Patrick said.
While Eoin and Cian gawked, she rolled the butcher paper in Patrick’s direction. The roll bounced against his shin. He bent down and tore the sheet. Without moving, he turned and rolled the paper to Ben, who repeated Patrick’s gesture.
Patrick walked the paper to the door. The secretary looked him over and nodded. The secretary dropped the duffle bag. Patrick undressed. He dropped his jacket and dress shirt onto the paper. He stepped out of his shoes, took off his socks, and pulled off his pants. From the duffle bag, he took a digital camouflage shirt and pants. When he was dressed, the secretary gave him a plastic trash bag, which he put his clothing into. She set down a pair of flip flops which he put on. Patrick stepped aside to allow Ben to change. Ben went through the same procedure and ended up with a plastic bag full of clothing.
“Mr. Kelly?” the secretary asked.
Too uncomfortable to not comply, Cian stepped forward. The secretary looked him over.
“Turn around,” she said.
Cian turned around.
“You’re clear,” she said. “Please stand with the General.”
Cian stepped off the paper and stood with Ben and Patrick.
“Mr. Mac Kinney?” she asked.
Eoin stood in front of her.
“You don’t know this,” she said. “But you saved my daughter’s life.”
“I . . .”
“I just wanted to thank you,” the secretary said. “Turn around please.”
Eoin turned around.
“You’re clear,” the secretary said. “Follow Patrick.”
She nodded to Eoin and stepped out of the doorway. The three younger men came into the room,
and she went back to sit at her desk.
“We’ll get the desk,” one of the young men said. “Anything else?”
“The bookshelf,” Cian said.
“I touched that chair,” Eoin said.
“Done,” the young man said. To Patrick, he said, “We’ll be in touch.”
“Destroy your clothing as soon as you can,” the secretary said. “All of you.”
“This way,” Patrick pointed to the door.
They followed Patrick out the door and down the hallway. Patrick veered from the elevator and took the stairs. They were out of the building. Rather than take their rental car, Patrick flagged a taxi. He had a long, complicated conversation with the cab driver about his retirement from the US Senate. The cab dropped them off at Fairfax Hotel. While Patrick slapped people’s backs and laughed, Ben checked them into a four-room suite at the hotel. No one spoke until the suite door swung closed.
“What the hell was that?” Cian asked.
Ben’s eyes flicked to Cian before going to the bar to mix a drink.
“What was that?” Cian asked again.
Ben glanced at Patrick and he nodded.
“We’re not sure,” Ben said. “The secretary is someone we know from other business. She works on a cleaning crew.”
“She’s seventy!” Cian said.
“She did look that way today,” Patrick said.
“Dr. Singer was either slated for elimination today or they thought we would kill him,” Patrick said.
“Did ya plan to?” Eoin asked.
“No,” Patrick said. “He was worth more alive than dead.”
As if he was cold, Patrick went to stand in front of the fireplace.
“She seemed to know he would kill himself with the fountain-tip,” Ben said.
“Good point,” Patrick said.
“You think we were targeted?” Cian asked.
“It’s very possible that our appointment was noted,” Patrick said. “Whoever set up his removal didn’t realize that we have our own connections.”
“What does that mean?” Eoin asked.
“He means that we know the cleaners,” Ben said. “Patrick knew the good doctor was slated for elimination when he saw the secretary.”
“My guess is Cam knew it the moment she showed up for work this morning,” Patrick said.
Eoin and Cian nodded.
“I want to know one thing,” Patrick said. He turned to look at Eoin.
“What’s that, sir?” Eoin asked.
“What do you and Dr. Singer have in common?” Patrick asked.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“No idea, sir,” Eoin said. “I wanted to come today because I wanted to meet the man who developed this protocol. It’s damned hard to crack, and wicked complicated.”
“But you’ve seen it before?” Patrick asked.
“I have,” Eoin said. “Boys in Shankill after a trip to the Maze.”
“I’ll check on it,” Ben said.
“Sir, what are we doing?” Cian asked. “I know you want to get back to Alex and Max.”
“We’re waiting for our story and clothing,” Patrick said.
“That’s handy,” Cian said.
Patrick nodded.
“What do you think it means, sir?” Cian asked.
“What?” Ben asked.
“The joke’s on you,” Cian said. “That’s what that turd Joiner said to Alex before he was killed.”
“How do you know that?” Ben asked.
“Alex asked me what I thought it meant,” Cian said.
“She asked me too,” Eoin said. “She trusts us and appreciates our wisdom.”
Cian gave an emphatic nod.
“Did you come up with anything?” Ben asked.
“No,” Cian said. “Eoin thinks he remembers something, maybe a rhyme, but he’s not sure what it is.”
“For my sake,” Patrick said. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Eoin?”
Eoin shook his head.
“Have you ever met Dr. Singer before?” Patrick asked.
“No,” Eoin said.
“He just said that,” Cian said.
“You’re sure?” Ben asked.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Eoin said.
“Did you know what he meant by, ‘You’ve destroyed my best work’?” Ben asked.
“No,” Eoin said.
“I figured it was the work in Belfast,” Cian said.
“He could have meant yesterday,” Eoin said.
“He’d have to have known that Alex and Steve, for that matter, survived,” Patrick said. “He didn’t seem to know that until I told him.”
“Maybe he set up Neev,” Cian said.
“Say more,” Patrick said.
“She could have reported to him,” Cian said. “She’d have known Eoin was messing with Samantha, Wyatt, and Pershing.”
Patrick and Ben nodded as if they agreed, but their faces remained unreadable.
“He would have known that Eoin was messing with the works and . . .” Cian stopped talking when there was a knock at the door.
Patrick answered the door. He had a quiet conversation and came back into the room.
“We’re set to leave in an hour,” Patrick said. “We’re due downstairs for an argumentative dinner. Ben?” Patrick said.
Ben nodded.
“I need everything you took,” Ben said. “I’ll photograph all of it, copy it all, and have it destroyed. That way, if we’re caught with it, we won’t lose it completely.”
Eoin and Cian unloaded their haul onto the coffee table. Ben and Patrick used hotel pens to look through what they’d taken from Dr. Singer’s office. Ben took digital photos with a tiny camera that looked like a flash drive.
“Let’s get showered and dressed,” Patrick said. “Ben first, since he’s working.”
Ben left the room to shower.
“Is it always like this, sir?” Eoin asked Patrick.
“Like what?” Patrick asked.
“Weird and confusing,” Cian said.
“Horrifying,” Eoin said.
“Yes,” Patrick said. “I try to trust that everything will eventually work itself out.”
“Does it usually?” Eoin asked.
“Eventually,” Patrick said. “The question is will you live long enough to see ‘eventually’?”
Patrick winked. There was another knock at the door. A bellman delivered clothing for all four of them. Patrick brought Ben his new clothing, before changing out of the fatigues he was wearing. Eoin and Cian changed quickly. Miraculously, the jeans and shirts fit perfectly. Cian took a trash bag from a trash container and they stuffed their clothing in the bag. Patrick dug through his clothing for his wallet and cell phone. He found Ben’s wallet and phone among his things.
Patrick stuffed the fatigues into his plastic bag. He did the same with Ben’s clothing. He crammed everything they had taken from Dr. Singer’s office into his plastic bag before tying his shoes. Anxious, Eoin walked over to where he sat.
“Will we be going home?” Eoin asked. “I’d love to see the missus and my baby.”
“My girl is at home with her babe to see if we can keep her,” Cian said.
“We’ll be late,” Patrick said. “But I think we all want to get home.”
Eoin nodded.
“You can call,” Patrick said.
“Great,” Eoin said.
Eoin went to a window and dialed his cell phone. He pressed send and flicked open the sheer curtain. Cian tackled him. They were flying through the air when bullets pierced the glass. They landed with a thud. Naked, Ben ran out of the bathroom.
“Hello?” Delilah asked.
“Love,” Eoin grunted. “I need to call you back.”
Patrick pushed the blinds closed and went to the men. Cian rolled off Eoin and grabbed his left shoulder. A bullet had sliced through the skin. Patrick kneeled down to them.
“My heart hurts, but I feel . . . ,” Eoin started.
&nbs
p; Ben tore Eoin’s shirt open and then dropped back to his heels. Patrick laughed.
“Body armor?” Ben smiled.
“We’re not bloody stupid,” Cian said. “Johnny gave us his and Max’s. He said if we were going with you, we should be careful. Aren’t you wearin’ it?”
“No,” Patrick laughed.
“Hobbits,” Ben said under his breath. Patrick laughed.
“I’m no Hobbit!” Eoin said.
Laughing, Ben went back to the bathroom.
“My chest still hurts,” Eoin said.
“Probably broke a rib,” Patrick said. “We’ll get it checked out. Cian?”
Patrick waved Cian over to him. He took a look at his wound. He made strips out of a small towel with his knife and bound Cian’s wound.
“You’ll need some antibiotic and a stitch or two,” Patrick said. “We’ll get it when we’re on base. We need to get going. The police will be here any . . .”
“DCPD. Open up,” a knock came at the door. “Senator Hargreaves? Everyone all right in there?”
Ben closed the bathroom door.
“Officer,” Patrick opened the door.
“We have a report of shots,” the DCPD said.
“Yes, officer,” Patrick let the DCPD uniformed officer inside. “Just a few stray bullets through the window.”
The DCPD officer went to the window to look.
“You’ve been here . . .”
“Fifteen minutes,” Patrick said. “Probably less.”
The officer nodded.
“Where’s your security detail?” the DCPD officer asked.
“I hate traveling with them,” Patrick said.
“I’ve heard that about you,” the DCPD officer said. “You know how this works, sir.”
“Yes, officer,” Patrick said. “We were planning on showering and getting on our way.”
Ben came out of the bathroom dressed in the clothing that had been delivered.
“Let’s see that you do that,” the DCPD officer said. “We’ll call this a . . .”
“Drive-by,” Patrick suggested.
“On the twelfth floor,” the DCPD officer said. “Sure. You wouldn’t know anything about a suicide over at DARPA, would you?”
“DARPA? No,” Patrick shook his head. He glanced at Eoin and Cian who shrugged. “Ben?”
“Not a thing,” Ben said.
In the Grey Page 34