Marta reached out and took Abbie's hand. "I understand. And I also understand Lance has spoken with you a couple of times this past month. I was in the room for one of those conversations. I'm not here to put the fear of death or worse in you."
Abbie breathed a sigh of relief. "You are here for the file."
Marta nodded reassuringly. "Bingo."
"Wyrick mentioned someone would come for it." Abbie worked hard to stay calm. "I didn't expect it would be you."
"I know. You thought it would be Preacher. Probably some crazy scheme where he drops in this room from an air conditioner shaft to steal the file." Marta even laughed at that. "He has a habit of having a little too much fun on his assignments."
Abbie just nodded and then shook her head. "And leaving behind a hell of a body count."
"Indeed. A regular Azreal or even Mengele." Marta chuckled. "For a guy with no religion, he certainly makes others believe there is an angel of death."
Abbie's head tilted at that. Something Marta just said made her brow furrow. Marta saw the realization happening before her eyes.
"Something I said?"
"Um, yes... you said he has no religion."
"Yep. None at all." Marta replied.
"I think you're wrong." Abbie answered.
Marta shook her head ever so slightly. "Not on this, I'm not."
"It's you. You are his religion." Abbie shook her head at the realization. "I didn't see it at first. His actions were those of a complete nihilist. He appeared not to believe in anything."
Marta stayed silent and let Abbie work through it.
"He drifts off, you know. You can see when he just disappears right in front of you. He's got that freaky satellite vision thing where he sees the world from up there." Abbie pointed up.
Marta nodded and finally replied. "You've talked with him about this I guess?"
"No. Not at all." Abbie grinned sheepishly. "I pretty much diagnosed him on my own."
"Diagnosed?"
Abbie's smiled quickly faded. She looked away.
"Please go on. I'm more than a little fascinated by this." Marta leaned in. Her intensity was magnetic. Abbie felt herself being pulled closer by Marta's personal gravity. It was amazingly similar to the animal magnetism and charisma Preacher exudes. She knew in that instant that she was out of her depth with Marta, just as she was always in Preacher's wake. These two were different.
"I'm sorry if I've over-stepped here." Abbie apologized.
"No, no. Please. I only recently got him back and we are dealing with an extremely stressful situation with Jenny-" Marta stopped herself and lowered her head. "With our daughter's health. I can honestly tell you I didn't know what to expect when he showed up in the hospital last month. I had only allowed the most minimal of contact with him since our daughter was born. I felt I barely knew him."
Marta's turn to stop and reassure herself.
"We were much different almost eight years ago when we first met. And then when our daughter came we thought maybe, just maybe we could do this - be normal. But then that bombing in Oklahoma City; it changed him. He couldn't let it go. I saw it in his eyes in that tiny hospital in Colorado - I'd lost him. I couldn't expose my daughter to what he intended to do."
Marta just shook her head.
It was Abbie's turn to reassure her with a squeeze of her hand.
Marta chuckled and shook her head. "Can you believe this? I'm supposed to be one of the most deadly women in the world. People tremble at my name. Men pee themselves just thinking about what I might do to them. But here I am bawling in front of a stranger. Some ice cold killer." The Russian accent slipped out in her words.
"You have been through so much." Abbie stopped herself.
Marta took a deep breath. In the next moment, it was as if the previous minute never happened. She was hard, stoic, all business. "Now, you were saying a moment ago that you diagnosed him. Are you a doctor? A psychologist?"
It took Abbie a few moments to recover from the previous couple of minutes. She took a deep breath and pressed on. "No. I'm just an auditor with a law degree."
"You're so much more than that." Marta interrupted. "You are special. Your skills will take you places you have never imagined. It will be hard and you will suffer both physically and mentally, but you wouldn't be sitting here with me if you did not possess unique talents. Never doubt yourself. But go on, you were saying."
Abbie looked at Marta for a few moments. The words of encouragement she just gave her were moving, powerful. She understood even more the 'why' of she and Preacher.
"I'm not a doctor or a psychologist, but, have you read my record? Has he told you about me?"
"No details. He only said you are very good. Very talented. Gifted. Nothing about your past."
"Ok. He knows this. My father left us and died soon after. I had to learn the hard way that he was unable to deal with my mother." Abbie closed her eyes again.
Marta knew this exercise. She knew about returning to the pain of childhood. She waited for Abbie.
"My mother had extreme problems. It started with little things, but grew to full-blown delusions. I watched her disappear right in front of me until she wasn't my mother anymore. My father chose to leave. I had to stay and help her. And then she killed herself. My uncle was our savior."
"I'm sorry." Marta smiled.
"I took it very hard. Ended up having to be treated by a psychiatrist. I got lost in it. Talked to people who weren't there. Heard others talking to me."
Marta pursed her lips and nodded. "You are describing schizophrenia."
"That's what I thought it was. That's what the doctors initially diagnosed as well. But later, after intense therapy, both in and out of several facilities, I got a different diagnosis - schizotypal personality disorder."
Marta's face gave her away.
"I know. You've never heard of it. No one has, unless they have someone who suffers from it. It's like schizophrenia, but not as bad. People with it have bouts, they're loners, they have strange beliefs about special powers, conversations with others who aren't there. But they don't have the total disconnect from reality that schizophrenics do. They can be very high-functioning; even exceptional."
Marta's procerus went to work tugging at brows, flaring her nose. She turned away for a few moments. When she turned back, it was 100% clinical. "People with this disorder are loners, have bouts of illness, they see and talk to people who aren't there and they believe they have special powers?"
"Those and more. People with schizotypal personality disorder actually do have special skills. Their eccentricities allow them to do amazing things like learn several languages. They can be extremely perceptive, to the point of noticing the most intricate and minute details. And some with the disorder can only find peace through extreme physical activity. It is the only thing that keeps them from going over that edge."
Marta pulled her hand from Abbie and ran both hands through her hair with her eyes closed. She rested her laced hands with fingers laced behind her neck and bent her head backward.
Abbie didn't need to guess what was going on in Marta's head. This exquisite bringer of death and mayhem was running through her life with Lance Priest, reexamining events she witnessed and experienced.
After nearly a minute of this meditation, Marta opened her eyes and exhaled. She smiled at Abbie as she brought her hands up to rub her face and eyes. With her hands covering her face, she started to laugh. This went on for a good bit.
"Kak naschet etogo?" Marta asked.
"Ya znayu, summasshedshiy." Abbie replied. "Three years of Russian during my undergrad."
"Zamechatel'no!" Marta reached out and took both of Abbie's hands in hers. Wonderful!
They smiled at each other. New friends. Marta hadn't made a friend in years.
"I came here to ask you for that file and what do I get instead?" Marta laughed. "I get the answer to a question I've been asking myself for years."
Abbie let her finish.<
br />
"Is Lance crazy?" Marta shook her head yet again. "And what do you know, the answer is yes. He has had this disorder all along. Probably his whole life."
Abbie nodded.
"You diagnosed him right away?"
"It took a little while. But I knew for sure when we went hiking one day. I watched him literally go away, shoot up to the sky and have a conversation with himself. He didn't know I saw it."
Marta continued chuckling. "I can't believe it. So this means Braden knew it all along as well. He probably spotted it that first day he watched Lance in Tulsa 10 years ago."
"If he was a psychiatrist with any skill, he certainly spotted the symptoms immediately. Preacher doesn't hide them very well."
"No he doesn't."
Marta nodded and held Abbie's hand for a few moments longer. "He also has a gift of seeing right through people; right to their heart and soul."
Abbie nodded her reply.
Marta patted and rubbed Abbie's hand and squeezed it. "I think maybe he saw right into you. And when he did, it was a little like looking into a mirror."
"What do you mean?" Abbie's head tilted a bit.
"When he found you, years ago, he knew right away you were like him. You had the same condition."
Abbie dropped her head slightly. It was obvious. She had worked so hard, pushed so hard, to be exceptional. She didn't want to end up like her mother. She wasn't crazy.
Marta smiled broadly. "Don't be ashamed, not for a moment. You are special. You are here. You are here with me now." Marta squeezed Abbie's hand tighter. Her next words were spoken in Russian. "You are among the very best in the world. Believe me. You were chosen." Vy byli vybrany.
"Thank you." Abbie nodded.
"And he taught you so much in a short time. I'll bet he answered every question you asked with another question." Marta smiled.
"He did. Never once gave me a straight answer." Abbie wiped a tear and smiled in return."
"He learned from the best instructor and became an even better one to you." Marta squeezed one last time. "There is no perfect teacher, but he is probably close to it."
Marta and Abbie wrapped up their bonding session and Abbie led Marta to a safe where the file and a couple of other certain deadly items were kept. Marta put the file in her purse and was preparing to leave when Abbie stopped her.
"I know you're ready to get out of here, but I hope you have a few more minutes. I want to show you something I found the other day."
"Certainly. I'm sure Lance is enjoying some time alone with his little girl. A few more minutes won't hurt."
"Good. Follow me when you're ready." Abbie waited for Marta to put her wig and the large sunglasses back on.
They stepped out of the secure room and down the hall to a door that led to a stairwell. Abbie led the way down two flights of stairs to what had to be the lowest level of the labyrinthine complex.
They went through a door that required a key code to enter. Abbie had it memorized. The hallway led to a series of doors. Abbie stopped at the fourth door and entered yet another key code before she could open this door.
When they stepped into the room behind the door, Marta could see it was a workspace with a table and four file cabinets against the wall to the left. An old fashioned chalkboard was mounted to the wall straight ahead.
Abbie closed the door behind Marta, making sure it was locked before turning around.
"So, here we are."
"Deep, deep underground." Marta replied. "I'm guessing there is something in one of these file cabinets you want to show me."
"I've been through all four and I can tell you there is an incredible amount of information in there that you would find interesting, but not all that useful."
"Okay. So what did you want to show me in here?" Marta was a little perplexed.
"I knew about this room, but I had never been in here before three weeks ago when Broley retired. He gave me the room key codes at 4:59 pm and walked out the door the last time at 5:00. "The last thing he said to me was to push hard and keep pushing."
"The old guy was a legend for his work ethic. Pushing hard for answers is what he did, right?"
"Absolutely. Every day of his life here he pushed for the truth. I came down here every day after he left and went through every file. It was fascinating reading, but unless I was missing the clues, there was nothing really great in these files." Abbie pointed at the cabinet while she walked forward. "I knew there had to be something else. Something I was missing."
Marta waited patiently. She enjoyed the show.
"So I looked for more. I looked in every nook, every cranny." She stepped forward to the chalkboard. "I looked this thing over with a magnifying glass to see if there was something written in the black of the board. Nothing. I didn't find anything."
Abbie turned back to Marta and smiled broadly. "And then I remembered his words - 'push hard and keep pushing'. So I came back down here two days ago and walked up to this old chalkboard and I pushed hard. I kept pushing." As she spoke, Abbie did just that. She pushed her hands hard against the black slate of the board. After a couple of seconds, something clicked back behind and the chalkboard started to swing forward.
As the large board opened, Abbie stepped aside so Marta could see what waited there. Her mouth dropped open as she looked from item to item. She absently stepped forward, drawn to the menagerie of photos and printed sheets and maps and other items pinned to a huge bulletin board hidden behind the chalkboard. And attached to a good many items were pieces of string that created something of a web between the mishmash of puzzle pieces.
Of the hundreds of items pinned to the wall, Marta was drawn to seven in particular. Each of these had a headline at the top in large font with descriptions, places, names and more in the print below. What made her mouth drop open was the fact that each of the seven printed sheets represented the seven networks Marta destroyed and rebuilt during five years of terrorizing the KGB. They were all there, from Paris to Vienna to Trieste.
"Damn." Was all she could say.
When she was done looking through these pieces, she moved on to others. It was all here - all of Lance's operations. Every single one that she knew about or had been told the tales of was here. And even more amazing than these pages with top-secret operational information listed, were the hundreds of photos pinned all around them. Marta looked from face to face to face and quickly realized who they were. These were the people killed by one Lance Priest during the past 10 years.
"My god. How many?"
"One hundred and sixty-three." Abbie replied.
"That many?"
"Probably more. These are all he could track."
"Broley put all this together." A statement, not a question.
"He did. Over many years. Evidently you and Lance were his white whales. He tracked your every move through audit after audit, but could never catch you. I knew he was obsessed with Seibel's operations, but I had no idea he spent this kind of time tracking you two. This little piece of madness was his masterpiece. You two were his muse and his curse."
Marta turned away and put her sunglasses back on. "He put a lot of dedication into this. I'm sure it was painful leaving it unfinished" She smiled at Abbie. "You'll destroy all this too, correct?"
Abbie nodded, "Just glad I could show you before I burn it all."
"I'll be sure to tell Lance about all this," Marta turned back to look the macabre collage over one more time. "I see at least 40 kills missing. Broley missed all Preacher's south of the border fun. Puts the number well over 200."
Marta smiled and nodded at Abbie and left without another word. She had a little girl and her daddy waiting for her.
Chapter 46
Tom Brewer deserved a bullet through the head.
But that would be the easy way out for a traitor. Instead, he got to see his whole life torn to shreds, his marriage dissolved and his relationship with his children erased.
But he didn't know all that was co
ming when he walked down his driveway and bent to pick up his daily copies of the Washington Post and New York Times.
He was sipping a nice warm cup of coffee when he read the headline on page four of the Times. It mentioned a national security leak with ties to Saudi Arabia. A high placed source confirmed, anonymously of course, that a CIA officer working on a top-secret task force had provided confidential information to Saudi operatives.
The article mentioned a potential connection to the massive explosion in Paris last week.
Brewer set his cup down and let the paper drop to the table. He looked at his young son enjoying a bowl of cereal at the other end of the table and knew he'd never have this opportunity again.
He looked from his innocent and oblivious son out the window. He loved his wife and children. But if he was truthful, he'd much rather Seibel or one of his minions put a gun to his head and pull the trigger instead of suffering the fate that awaited him today and every day of his future.
Brewer really didn't know how lucky he was. Wyrick handled the details of his demise. If Lance ever learned of his treachery, his suffering would have been felt for generations. Preacher had no qualms sharing the responsibilities and punishment of fathers with their children or husbands with their wives.
Pain builds character. Extreme pain and suffering shapes legacies. Brewer was getting off easy at the hands of justice. Preacher would have taken those hands and other body parts for starters.
Chapter 47
The large heavy plastic tubs stacked neatly on the pallet rolled down the aisle of a large warehouse. The storage facility with towering shelves nearly 30-feet tall was owned by the US government. Most of the items stored here were evidence from terrible events.
The charred bits and pieces in these particular tubs were collected from the site of a huge explosion in central Paris weeks ago. Why the twisted metal remnants from this horrible event were in a US government warehouse in Pennsylvania was a mystery. Very few humans knew this evidence was here. Even fewer would ever learn about it.
The Perfect Teacher Page 22