by Zoe Sharp
The anger rose hot and fast, a spurt of rage that starred my vision with pinpricks of exploding light. ‘Oh, and you think that makes it all OK?’ I demanded. ‘We’re back to choices again, and this wasn’t questioning – this was mental rape!’
His head reared back like I’d slapped him. ‘Charlie—’
‘What the fuck else would you call it?’ My voice had risen, harsh and bitter. ‘You came in here and you took what you wanted from me, regardless of my wishes. Regardless of whether I was even aware of what you were doing. But because it was you, you think that makes it better?’ I was close to shouting now, hands clawed, arms rigid and shaking, so the handcuffs quivered against the chair like the chains of a tortured ghost. ‘You think, when those four bastards raped me, years ago, the fact they weren’t total strangers somehow MADE IT BETTER?’
The silence that followed my outburst was deafening. Sean’s face set stone white, stone hard, with the exception of a muscle that jumped at the hinge of his jaw.
‘So, why didn’t you bring it up, yesterday, that you’d found those guns? he asked then, dogged.
‘Bane didn’t know about the guns – it was Nu,’ I said. ‘As soon as Bane found out about them, he ordered them broken up, got rid of.’
‘Convenient,’ Sean said dryly. ‘What about the getaway car they were tuning up – a Chevy wasn’t it? Or the list of dead ex-members?’ He paused. ‘You should have told us, Charlie.’
‘Ah! So, I was asking for it, is that what you’re saying?’
He brushed the jeer aside, ploughing on regardless of the pain I recognised this was causing him, even through the haze of my own. ‘Why didn’t you tell us that members of a known terrorist group had arrived at the compound?’
‘Because they hadn’t,’ I said, wrestling for control, to sound reasonable and rational. ‘The Debacle crew only turned up after you left. And there’s nothing sinister about it. As soon as they heard about the attack on Maria, there was no way Dexter was going to stay away. He’s father of her child, not Liam Witney.’
‘And if you knew that, the job was over.’ Sean let out a long breath and gave a sad little smile, glanced back towards the mirror. ‘I have to hand it to you,’ he said bleakly, speaking not to me but to someone behind the glass. ‘You knew exactly what bullshit story they were going to feed her.’
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Story? What the hell…?
Before I could argue, the door opened and Chris Sagar came in, smiling, smug with satisfaction. I jerked at my bindings in automatic response, the reflex snarl of a cornered animal. Less cocky, Sagar darted away, sidling around the far side of the table and taking the chair behind it. Sean leant on the wall to one side, watching us both.
‘You think you know the truth, Charlie, but they’ve been messing with your head. You see, I’m Billy’s father,’ Sagar said gently, as though breaking news I might find upsetting. ‘That’s why I left Fourth Day. Maria and I fell in love, but Bane decided I just wasn’t good enough for daddy’s little girl. He forced me out, and then broke her mind. All I’m trying to do here is rescue my son and see justice done. These people are dangerous fanatics.’
‘Fanatics?’ I snapped. ‘The only fanatic here is you, Sagar. What proof do you have? Does Epps know you’ve been feeding him bullshit about Bane running some mind-control cult, when all the time you’re just desperate to get your hands on the land.’
Sagar laughed. ‘You must be even weaker than we thought, Charlie. I’ve never seen anyone swallow the line Bane’s selling so fast.’ He chuckled a moment longer, then shook his head, solemn. ‘The land’s worthless. I should know – it was offered to me at a rock-bottom price before Bane took over Fourth Day, and Epps knows that, but I can see from your face that Bane didn’t quite bring you up to speed. You can’t build on it or farm it. What possible value could it have?’
That rocked me. I glanced at Sean, unable to work out why he was allowing Sagar to lie to me. His expression gave no comfort. ‘What about the oil shale?’ But I heard the doubt in my own voice.
Sagar didn’t quite laugh again, but it was a close-run thing. Instead, he grinned at me. ‘Liam Witney found one or two interesting rocks, but they amounted to nothing,’ he said. ‘You think he would have gone all the way to Alaska if there’d been something worth protesting right there on his doorstep?’ He shook his head with sham regret. ‘Such a shame about that kid.’
‘What about the rest of it?’ I said, beginning to slip. ‘What about all the “psychological abuse” you claimed they’d subject me to?’ I checked Sean’s face again. ‘Surely you took the opportunity to ask what happened to me in there, when we were having our…cosy little chat.’
But it was Sagar who answered, all amusement gone. He indicated the last of the fading bruise on my cheek with a twist of his fingers. ‘You didn’t have to say a word for us to realise that Bane’s moved on a long way from mind games,’ he said with quiet seriousness.
‘Disappointed, Chris?’ I tossed at him. ‘That how you got your kicks, was it – breaking in the newbies?’
For a moment something flared behind the lenses of his glasses, then he caught himself and shook his head. ‘Nice try, Charlie,’ he said, sitting back in his chair. ‘You see, I told them, before you were brought in, exactly what fantasies you’d come out with. I know Bane’s methods well.’
‘Ah, yes, when you were his mythical “second in command”, hmm?’
He shrugged almost helpless to Sean. ‘What did I tell you?’ he said, conspiratorial now. ‘Next thing, she’ll be trying to convince you I sent John Nu after her.’
Before I could respond, the door opened again and Conrad Epps walked in. He looked arrogant and rested. Sean, by comparison, had the hollow-eyed stare of battle-weary troops during a brigadier’s front-line visit. And although Sean came upright, there was a tense readiness about him that was a long way from deferential respect.
Behind Epps, Parker Armstrong also stepped into the room, followed by Bill Rendelson. Come to gloat have you, Bill? It was starting to feel crowded in there.
Parker and Rendelson were in suits, and from the way my boss glanced sharply between us with narrowed eyes, he hadn’t been behind the glass for my interrogation. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Rendelson, not wanting to see the bitter recrimination on his face.
‘Thank you for your expertise, Mr Meyer,’ Epps said deliberately, ignoring me. ‘You’re finished here.’
Sean moved towards me, but Epps blocked him. I saw the way Sean’s eyes flicked and knew, if Epps attempted to physically restrain him, Sean was liable to break all the man’s fingers before security laid theirs on a weapon.
‘Stand down,’ Epps said, the force of a cracked whip in his quiet voice. ‘We require Miss Fox’s presence for a while longer. You can have her back when we’re done.’
‘Done fucking with her head, you mean?’ Sean said, deceptively light. ‘No.’
Epps rocked back, moustache flaring like cat fur. He turned his head towards Parker as if expecting him to intercede. I couldn’t see Parker’s face, but if Epps’s reaction was anything to go by, it showed no sign of capitulation.
Sagar’s eyes, meanwhile, danced everywhere. Was his glee really only obvious to me?
‘No,’ Parker echoed. ‘I’m doing what I should have done last night, and taking Charlie out of here, right now.’
‘She may have vital intel about the internal layout of the compound, their current strength,’ Epps said. ‘She stays.’
To my shock, it was Rendelson who muscled forwards, got right in Epps’s face. He was shorter, but of a width, even if he was an arm down on the other man.
‘Enough,’ Rendelson growled. ‘You cut one of us, we all bleed. Go have your fun someplace else.’
Parker lifted a hand, as if to hold him back, and Rendelson subsided, glowering.
‘You’re the one who owes me the favour now, Conrad, so I’m calling in that marker,’ Parker said silkily. ‘Trust me on
this, you do not want to get into a pissing contest with me right now. Not before a highly sensitive operation on US soil.’
‘Are you threatening me, Mr Armstrong?’ Epps sounded amused.
‘If that’s what it takes,’ Parker said. ‘Besides, I’m sure Mr Sagar will be only too happy to draw all the diagrams you need on Fourth Day.’
It was satisfying that Sagar himself didn’t look thrilled at the prospect, but at least Epps was unlikely to pump him full of drugs before he asked for a map.
Epps nodded to someone on the other side of the glass, and a moment later one of his minions arrived with the keys for my cuffs. I rubbed at my wrists where the metal bracelets had rested, attempting to rid myself of their symbolic presence.
As I pushed out of my chair, I staggered and nearly fell. Sean caught me before I’d got anywhere near going down, was about to lift me into his arms when I said in a brittle voice, ‘Don’t.’
He froze.
‘If there’s one thing I want very much to do,’ I said steadily, ‘it’s to walk out of here under my own steam.’
He nodded at that, kept his arm around me until my legs had stabilised, then released me and stepped back. Much as I could hardly bear to have him touch me, having him let go was worse.
I glanced towards Bill Rendelson, but that brief flash of solidarity was hidden beneath his usual scowling countenance.
Epps’s people shadowed us back through a maze of offices and corridors until we finally reached the main floor of the hangar. As we passed through the final door, the noise levels rose dramatically. Not just from the normal activity of the airport going on outside the hangar, I realised with a sickening lurch, but the highly abnormal activity going on within it.
The place was swarming with personnel. Black-clad guys in SWAT uniforms, cleaning weapons and repacking kit. I recognised the rituals such men go through, just before a major fight.
At the far side of the hangar, near the entrance, were two Chevy Suburbans. Joe McGregor was leaning against the front wing of one, careful to keep the protective bulk of the engine block between himself and Epps’s men, I noted. His body language was casual, but his eyes never stopped moving.
As we reached the vehicles, our escort peeled away, formed a perimeter. Beyond them, I could see a couple of M3 Bradley Fighting Vehicles, and M728 Combat Engineering Vehicles, which were basically a tank with a bulldozer blade on the front. Epps must have brought them in by heavy-transport aircraft.
My God, I thought. They’re going to start a war.
‘Charlie will ride with me.’ Parker cut across my thoughts, and his voice was the same one he’d used on Epps. For a moment, I thought Sean would argue anyway, but with a last dark look in my direction, he turned away without a word and climbed in alongside McGregor. Bill Rendelson slid awkwardly into the rear seat.
It was only when the reinforced door of the Suburban closed solidly behind me, and Parker cranked the engine, that I let my head drop back against the headrest and my breath escape me.
‘When are they going in?’ I asked as he swung a tight circle and headed out.
‘I don’t know, but the oil refinery visit is less than five days away, so you can bet it will be soon,’ Parker said as we cleared the hangar and drove out into the brutal sunshine of a California afternoon.
‘Do you know how many women and children there are in Fourth Day?’ I asked. And when he shook his head, I added bitterly, ‘No, and I’m betting Epps doesn’t, either. I thought he wanted to avoid another Waco?’
Parker’s eyes slid sideways, met mine. ‘I think it’s too late for that now.’
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
‘You OK?’
By the time Parker asked the quiet question, Van Nuys was behind us and we were heading east into steadily thickening afternoon traffic on Roscoe Boulevard.
I twisted in my seat to face him. Behind us loomed the bulk of the other Suburban. Rendelson was hidden, but beneath the passing reflections on the windscreen, I caught glimpses of McGregor and Sean, grim-faced like they were on their way to an execution.
Maybe, professionally, that’s what this is.
‘I don’t know,’ I said evenly. ‘Would you be?’
Parker was silent for a moment before he said, rueful, ‘No, I guess not.’
‘It was you and Sean who went in for me, I assume?’
He nodded. ‘With Joe. You’re not easy to take, if that’s any consolation.’
It wasn’t. How did I tell Parker that he and McGregor might have had better luck by themselves? Living with Sean had made me minutely aware of him in every sense and I always woke to him. Last night, his unique scent had registered on some deep subconscious level, reaching through the layers of sleep.
I glanced away, the tail lights of bunched-up cars ahead suddenly blurring in front of me.
Parker braked until we were barely crawling. I half-considered jumping from the car, but knew Sean would be after me before I’d made it ten metres, and I was in no fit state to outrun him without a miracle.
I was so tired that even my hair ached.
‘You should have reported in as soon as you found out Dexter was the kid’s father,’ Parker said then. ‘Our duty to the client ended there.’
‘I know.’
‘As for the rest of it…’ He sighed. ‘Why didn’t you tell us? Why make us find out this way?’
Because I’ve been brainwashed, apparently.
‘I knew I was being used,’ I said instead. ‘And I wanted to find out who and why before Epps took over with his usual sledgehammer diplomacy.’
There was a light-controlled intersection ahead. Beyond it, I saw we were edging into roadworks, giant orange-and-white-striped bollards squeezing the vehicles down into a single lane while a group of guys who looked like they were auditioning for the Village People dug up the central reservation.
‘You holding out on us gave significant cause for concern,’ Parker said.
‘Sufficient to drug me to the eyeballs and let Sean prise it out of me that way, you mean?’
For the first time, I saw Parker’s temper flash out. ‘OK, so you were questioned harder than any of us would have liked, using methods we would rather not have employed,’ he snapped, ‘but Sean did what he had to when you lied to us, when you forced our hand. So suck it up, Charlie! You knew what you were getting into. And did you really expect Sean to stand by and watch while Epps worked you over? Or would that just have given you a bigger stick to beat him with, huh?’
For a moment I sat in stunned silence, disbelieving Parker could be so cruel, then the heat flooded into my face. He was right, I realised to my shame. Like Sean’s response to the news of my pregnancy and miscarriage. There was no ideal way to react – for either of us.
Even as the apology formed, I was interrupted by the trilling of a cellphone. Parker dug in a pocket, one-handed, and stabbed the button for speaker to make it nominally hands-free.
‘Boss?’ came McGregor’s voice, distorted by the tinny speaker. ‘Traffic reports are bad from here all the way down I-five. We better detour or we’re gonna miss our flight.’
‘OK,’ Parker said. ‘We’ll make a right on Lankershim and stay off the freeway.’
He ended the call and snapped the phone shut, dumping it into the centre console. We crept forwards another few metres, just as the light overhead flipped to amber. I glanced back and saw McGregor had been cut off by the closing red. Parker kept rolling, just managing to squeak the Suburban into the bottleneck on the far side as cross traffic began to pour through behind us.
‘What flight?’ I demanded, heart beginning to pump.
‘We’re booked onto Air Alaska out of Burbank,’ Parker said. ‘Two changes back to JFK. Not ideal, but they were the first seats available.’
‘Why the big rush?’ I said. ‘Why do you want to get the hell out of Dodge unless…’ I stopped abruptly. ‘Epps is going in tonight, isn’t he?’
Parker hesitated. ‘Look, Charlie, I
’m sorry…’
‘Not as sorry as I am.’
In one move, I hit my seat belt release and grabbed the phone from the console, at the same time yanking the door open and piling out into the roadway.
We were barely rolling by that point. I managed to stay on my feet as I hit the ground and ran, shaky, parallel to the line of near-stationary cars, heading directly forwards, away from the Suburban, and then cutting in towards the construction as the traffic alongside me began to move. I leapt the barrier and dropped down onto the exposed hardcore.
Behind me, I heard a yell, car horns blaring, knew Parker could not abandon his vehicle, and Sean was hampered by the heavy traffic cutting across behind us.
But not for long.
I ducked under the swinging arm of a mechanical digger, ignoring the yells from the workmen who converged on me as though this was some giant game of tag. The rough ground was stony underfoot, making running slow and perilous. And quite apart from being sleep-deprived, I had no idea what kind of chemical cocktail Epps’s people had pumped into me. Already, I was nearly spent.
A big guy in a stained vest, fluorescent bib and hard hat made a grab for my arm. He just managed to snag my shirt and drag me off balance. I stumbled and went to my knees.
‘Hey, lady! You crazy?’ he demanded. ‘You tryin’a get yourself killed?’
Just for a second, I debated on putting him down, knew I could do it fast, but it would still take time I didn’t have.
So I looked up at him, let my face crumple, knew by the way his eyes flickered that he’d clocked the bruise around my eye. And, despite the fact that the grubby vest he wore was known as a wife-beater in the States, he didn’t look the type.
I glanced back as if fearful, and saw that Sean had managed to negotiate his way through the stream of cars and was sprinting for our position, exuding anger and menace like a heat haze as he bore down on us.
‘Please…’ I begged, and hoped he’d mistake the sweat on my face for tears.
The big guy hesitated just for a second, then hoisted me to my feet and gave me a gentle shove.