Fourth Day

by Zoe Sharp

  ‘If that’s the case, then surely Epps has every reason to turn Fourth Day upside down.’ I frowned. ‘What’s stopping him?’

  ‘Ah well, Comrade Epps moves in mysterious ways,’ Sean said dryly.

  He took the Lincoln Tunnel under the Hudson, and we were silent for the next mile or so, then I said suddenly, ‘If Bane was recruiting people for organisations like that, then surely Thomas Witney wouldn’t have stayed inside Fourth Day unless he had a bloody good reason.’

  ‘Maybe his ex-wife is right, and he had some kind of spiritual epiphany.’

  ‘Or maybe I’m right about Liam’s relationship with Maria, and Witney stayed for the child.’ I checked his face, found he was frowning. ‘You find anything out about her?’

  He gave a half shrug. ‘Not much. Her name’s Maria Gonzalez. The kid was born seven months after Liam’s death, so the dates would line up. There’s no father’s name listed on the birth certificate, but his name is Billy.’

  Billy and Liam, both diminutives of William. ‘It’s not enough to warrant kidnapping him on the off chance.’

  ‘I agree,’ Sean said. ‘There’s no father’s name listed on Maria’s birth certificate, either, so maybe it’s a kind of family tradition. Maybe the only way’s a DNA comparison between the kid and Lorna Witney, after we’ve got him out.’

  A flash of Maria’s ragged flight and capture sprang unbidden to mind. ‘From what we saw of the girl, she’s not exactly stable. How’s she going to react if we grab the kid and make a mistake?’ I murmured, remembering, too, her total subjugation in the face of the cult’s leader. ‘We’d have to be sure.’

  ‘Yeah, but that’s not the kind of thing you can find out in a covert night-time raid.’

  I shrugged. ‘So I’ll go in and talk to her.’

  ‘What makes you think she’ll talk to you, after what we did to Witney?’ Sean glanced across at me, his expression hooded. ‘And what makes you think Bane will let someone like you within a mile of her?’

  ‘Who says he’s going to know who I am?’

  ‘No,’ Sean said, jaw hardening. ‘No way Parker will risk something like that, whatever his feelings for Lorna Witney.’

  ‘He might not,’ I said. ‘But Epps would.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ‘I don’t like it,’ Epps said, not taking his eyes off me while he spoke. For a moment it was hard to tell if he was expressing his dislike for the proposal we’d put forward, or me in particular. Probably both.

  ‘We’re not asking you to,’ Sean said, and though there was apparently nothing more than idle amusement in his voice, his own eyes were very cold.

  If Epps registered this composed hostility, he didn’t show it. Instead, he said calmly, ‘If you expect my cooperation and approval for this exercise, Mr Meyer – not to mention access of any kind to my resources – then I do believe it’s a requirement.’

  My turn to butt in. ‘What makes you think we’re asking for anything?’

  Epps continued to stare at me for a long time. I smiled back blandly and thought I caught the faintest tic in his face, just before he finally gave in. He swept a slightly pitying gaze over Parker, and there was something patronising about it, as though he took being contradicted as a sign Parker lacked control over his men – and I’m damned sure that’s how he thought of us collectively. None of Epps’s own people – all male – would have dared speak unless directly questioned.

  It was three days after my return from Scotland. We were in Parker’s office, with Conrad Epps in one of the comfortable client chairs in front of the desk, and Parker, Sean and I ranged against him. Epps was outnumbered and off his home ground, and still managed to look like he was running the show, elbows propped on the armrests with fingers linked, legs crossed. There was no telltale tension in his arms or hands, and his loose foot dangled, relaxed.

  It was interesting that he’d ordered his usual protection detail to stay out in the reception area. If they were offended by this exclusion, they took it stoically, and were currently involved in a monumental stare-out competition with Bill Rendelson across the polished floor. I’d been almost unbearably tempted to whistle some Morricone spaghetti western theme while crossing between them.

  ‘I would have thought,’ Parker said now, matching his tone to Sean’s, ‘that after the failure of your last operation against Fourth Day, you’d have been glad of this new opportunity to gather valuable intel without any further risk to your own personnel.’

  There was nothing in Parker’s voice to give away the fact that both he and Sean had tried hard to dissuade me from going back into the cult. Not under cover of night, with a highly trained backup team surrounding me and a SIG on my hip, like last time. But alone, unarmed, in broad daylight.

  Perversely, the more they’d argued against it, the more determined I’d become. Parker’s frustration, even bordering on dismay, had been more than evident at the time. Now it was imperceptible.

  ‘You make an interesting case, Mr Armstrong,’ Epps said. ‘But you have nothing concrete to support it.’

  ‘We’ve traced major donations from shell companies based in the Caymans to both Debacle and Fourth Day, and it seems Witney is not the first former member of the cult to die in violent circumstances,’ Parker said. ‘Four in the last year – home invasions and hit-and-run accidents – all unsolved. How much more do you want?’

  ‘And what does this have to do with your client?’ Epps asked.

  ‘It makes her even more anxious to remove her grandson from their influence and from possible danger,’ Parker said. He waited a beat. ‘You of all people should appreciate what it is to lose a child.’

  ‘Your daughter, wasn’t it?’ Sean supplied.

  For the first time, Epps looked smaller, almost human, his shoulders a little less square and his back less ramrod straight. His silver hair no longer seemed a distinguished badge of rank, was simply a sign of age.

  ‘Do not go there, gentlemen,’ he growled, moustache bristling. ‘You’ve made your point. I still do not see what this has to do with your client. If she wants the child out, surely it’s a simple job to extract him?’

  ‘Not until we’re sure of his identity,’ Parker said. ‘And in order to do that, Charlie is volunteering to go in there and see what she can find out. You admitted that your investigation is stalled. We’re offering you a chance to move it forward, without things turning into another Waco.’

  Epps responded to Parker’s sly digs with less subtlety. ‘It has been my experience that women do not make reliable undercover operatives,’ he said flatly. ‘They do not have the mental resilience, and they become emotionally involved.’

  ‘I have no intention of sleeping with Bane,’ I said mildly. ‘Or staying awake with him, either, for that matter.’

  Epps’s stony expression never varied at my flippancy, but his loose foot bounced betrayingly, just once, and his voice was dangerously soft. ‘And how do you know that isn’t one of his stipulations for entry?’

  ‘If it was, I’m sure Chris Sagar would have included that fact in his dossier,’ I said, nodding to the document itself, which lay open on the table between us. ‘If there’s one thing Bane has done since he took over Fourth Day, it’s clean up the cult’s previous unsavoury reputation.’

  But I closed my mind to the memory of Bane himself stepping out to meet Maria as she was brought back to him, weeping and on her knees. That strangely gentle caress.

  ‘Just as well,’ Epps said, quiet and deliberate, ‘because I very much doubt you would cope well with that kind of treatment, would you, Charlie?’

  I froze, as much at his silky use of familiarity as the threat itself, felt rather than saw Sean’s sudden stillness alongside me.

  ‘Nobody copes well with violation, Mr Epps,’ I said, managing to keep my voice cool and colourless. ‘You just cope. Male or female has no bearing.’ I paused. ‘Trust me – you would fare no better than most.’ And probably a lot worse than many.


  Epps continued to meet my gaze, but something recoiled behind his eyes. He looked away and I didn’t need to watch that twitchy foot flap again to know the barb had hit home.

  ‘I’m afraid, gentlemen, that I still don’t like it.’

  Gentlemen. Neither Sean nor Parker seemed to notice this casual sexism. It was endemic in the field. And seeing the three of them together now, their similarities sent a sudden, unaccountable chill across my bones. Like they were all members of the same exclusive club, and I was the outsider here.

  Sean smiled at him. ‘This isn’t a request,’ he said. ‘It’s just a heads-up out of courtesy.’

  Epps absorbed that in brief silence. ‘So far, we have been unable to link the three men apprehended in California either to the deaths of my agents, or to the kidnap and murder of Thomas Witney,’ he said at last. Then, with reluctance, ‘However, one of my dead agents had gambling debts he’d suddenly promised to repay. It looks like whoever hired him decided to save themselves the money. That case is still open and I would very much like to close it.’

  Parker inclined his head, acknowledging the concession for what it was. ‘Anything Charlie learns that’s of relevance,’ he said gravely, ‘we will, of course, pass on.’ He rose, the dismissal obvious.

  ‘Oh, we’ll be keeping a close eye on things, Mr Armstrong, make no mistake about that.’ Epps stood, treated us all to a slow survey while he buttoned his coat. ‘Her cover story will need to be good. They will pressure-test it,’ he said finally, eyes on Parker again. ‘If you want to place an agent into Bane’s wilderness programme, I would strongly advise that you make use of Mr Sagar’s expertise to construct something…suitable.’

  ‘We intend to,’ Sean said sharply. ‘But if Bane’s looking for the kind of people we suspect, he’ll pick out Charlie. Some qualities you just can’t hide.’

  He sounded confident, but it was ironic that, the moment I’d suggested going back, he and Parker had voiced much the same doubts as Epps. The fact that their minds ran along similar grooves did not please him, I could tell.

  Epps nodded briefly to Parker but made no immediate moves for the door.

  ‘What happens if she cracks?’ he asked. ‘What happens if she goes over as easily as Witney did, five years ago?’

  That last bit surprised me. So, for all his snide comments, Epps still thought I might be of some value to the enemy.

  ‘I’m not planning on being in there for more than a few days,’ I said. ‘And if I buckle that quickly, I won’t be much use to him, will I?’

  ‘I meant as a bargaining chip,’ Epps said. His eyes skimmed across me again, merciless and chilling. ‘She doesn’t have to remain functional for that.’

  ‘If we become concerned in any way for Charlie’s mental or physical well-being,’ Sean said, ‘we’ll get her out – whatever it takes.’

  Parker slid behind his desk, smoothing down his tie. ‘Thank you for your input. We’ll take it under advisement,’ he said. ‘Sean, would you see Mr Epps and his people out of the building.’

  Sean briefly showed his teeth. ‘It would be my pleasure.’

  Epps thought about making a stand, for no other reason than because he could. I saw the urge to pull rank cross his features and narrowly lose out to some darker consideration I couldn’t quite catch the meaning of. I was impressed by his willpower, if nothing else.

  Maybe he just thought that anything we might conceivably provide was better than nothing and left it at that.

  Sean was already holding the door open, careful to keep any hint of provocation out of his demeanour. So, his willpower was on a level with Epps’s.

  As I made to follow them out, Parker said, ‘Charlie – a moment?’ and I turned back, but not before I’d caught Sean’s eye. There was no more expression on his face now than when he’d looked at Epps. It almost made me shiver.

  ‘Close the door,’ Parker said quietly.

  I complied, walked sedately to stand in front of his desk and clasped my hands loosely behind me like I was back in the army.

  Parker leant back in his chair and stared up at me. ‘Don’t do this,’ he said calmly. ‘You don’t have to do this, Charlie. Nobody expects or even wants this of you. Not me and certainly not Sean.’

  ‘I want it,’ I said. ‘I promised Witney he would be safe with us, then helped deliver him to his death, and I don’t like the feeling I lied to him. If Bane had a hand in that, or he knows something – or was involved in what happened to Liam – I want to find out. I need to put this to rest.’

  He made a small gesture of impatience. ‘We still suspect that Bane may have arranged the kidnap, torture and execution of Thomas Witney. You’re asking me to put you naked into the arena with a tiger.’

  ‘From what Sagar’s told us, he’s not a stupid man. Even if he suspects who I am, he’ll know that if anything happens to me after I go in, that’s just the excuse Epps needs to tear the place apart.’

  ‘Epps would have to wait his turn,’ Parker said with a grim smile.

  ‘Right now, we don’t know who killed Witney, or why,’ I said. ‘If it was Bane, to stop him talking about what’s going on inside Fourth Day, we need to know. And if it was because Witney found out his wife was somehow connected to the death of his son, then…’ I shrugged, ‘…we need to know that, too.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘And most of all,’ I cut in, ‘if that’s Liam’s child – Lorna Witney’s grandchild – in there, I couldn’t live with myself if I left him to his fate.’

  ‘Is that what this is all about, Charlie?’ Parker snapped, a mix of anguish and temper in his eyes. ‘You lost a child and now you’re trying to save them all?’

  ‘I…’ I paused, swallowed, said in a low voice, ‘Honestly? I don’t know.’

  Parker was silent, then he sighed and got to his feet. At the window, his back to me, he said, ‘We haven’t lost an operative for more than a year. I don’t want to spoil that run. Especially not with you.’

  ‘We put our lives on the line every day, Parker. I accept that as a normal part of the job. You should consider me no different from anyone else who works for you.’

  ‘Our job is to expect trouble, and to prevent or deflect it. We don’t go seek it out.’ Parker turned abruptly, gaze skating over me. ‘Besides, you are different, you know that. And this job is hardly normal, Charlie – you know that, too.’

  He moved round the desk, smooth and fast, and put his hands on my shoulders. Just for a moment I felt his fingers tighten and wondered if he was about to try and shake some sense into me, the frustration plain on his face. ‘Any decisions you face at the moment are not yours alone to make, and I don’t want to have to be the one who breaks it to Sean, if anything should happen to you,’ he said tightly. ‘You still haven’t told him, have you?’

  ‘I—’

  The door opened and Sean took a stride into the office, then froze momentarily when he saw us. Such a brief hesitation, gone before it fully formed.

  He glanced at Parker, said, ‘Still trying to talk her out of it?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Parker said, wry. He let his hands drop and regarded me almost glumly. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance I’ve succeeded, is there?’

  I let my gaze take in both of them. ‘No,’ I said. ‘None at all.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  I walked in to Fourth Day’s land with the sunrise, dressed in cargo trousers and a lightweight cotton shirt, neither chosen with camouflage in mind. My booted feet scuffed at the dirt, not attempting to hide my trail. I had a bush hat with a floppy brim to keep the sun off and a sports-type water bottle in a neoprene holder slung on a strap over my shoulder.

  On my back was a canvas rucksack containing two switched-off cellphones, a deactivated radio distress beacon, a map, two chocolate bars, a bundle of cash, a knife, a first-aid kit which included shots of morphine and adrenaline, my SIG, and a box of 9 mm Hydra-Shoks. The gun, wrapped in an oiled cloth, had a single round in the chamber, but
the magazine was out and empty. Everything was packed into two plastic Tupperware boxes to keep out the elements. It was like going on the most bizarre picnic ever.

  Apart from that I carried no bag, no wallet, no ID, and no weapon other than what lurked inside my own head.

  Sean dropped me by the side of the road that bordered the cult land, almost the same point of entry we’d used for our surveillance of Thomas Witney. He gave me a brief ‘good luck’, but we’d said our farewells before leaving Van Nuys in the dark, and had been largely silent on the drive.

  There was nothing left to say.

  For the last mile, the only sign of habitation had been a wind-blown roadside bar, hunkered down by the side of the road, its neon faded and blinking in the pre-dawn glow.

  By the time I’d climbed carefully through the barbed-wire fence, Sean was already accelerating away. I didn’t look back and, I suspect, neither did he.

  I struck out roughly east, using the hour hand of my watch to work out a rough north-south bearing from the sun, and ready-reckoning from there. The watch was a cheap analogue I’d bought purely for this purpose, with a simple face and a rubber strap. It would be a classic disorientation technique for them to take it away from me, and I didn’t want to lose the Tag that Sean had given me.

  The sun lifted solemnly from the horizon, stately in its progress, a pinkish globe that slowly lost definition as it began to burn more fiercely. The misty light hardened, the shadows of the dumpy trees shrinking back towards their trunks as if compressed by the heat. Overhead, some large bird of prey drifted lazily, feathering at the high thermals with wing tips splayed.

  It was a long walk, which gave me plenty of time to think about the briefings I’d had from Chris Sagar over the past few days, sitting in a cramped office in the government hangar where we’d set up a temporary base of operations. This time, we had taken no chances with security.