He killed them.
That’s what he believed. That was what he’d always been afraid of…the realization that he was the one who had killed them. His wife and child were gone because of what he had wanted.
Hunting down and killing the latest crop of al-Qaeda leaders had changed nothing. Just as the pathetic lives of radical Muslims, sacrificed in the name of misguided martyrdom, had changed nothing. Executing the al-Qaeda leaders, while gratifying at the time, had been an act in futility. Perhaps they would never again murder innocent women and children…but there would always be somebody else who would.
There was always a grieving father and husband somewhere… Always. No matter how many evil, twisted men Henry killed, there were always more to murder innocent women and children. There was always himself.
"Oi, Henry!" Angus yelled.
Purely reflex, Henry reacted by bringing his gun up and aiming it across the table at Angus. Angus was fast, though, and had his gun up and pointed at Henry a half-second later. It would have been too late, Henry realized. He could have shot him, killed him, right then. He could see in Angus’ expression that the bald Aussie had the same realization.
"Oh God," Tina whispered. She sounded frightened. No one else moved or said anything.
"Why so jumpy, Henry?" Angus asked.
"I don’t trust you," Henry replied evenly.
"I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t trust me, either, under the circumstances!" He briefly grinned, but it quickly faded.
"Why are you here, Angus?" Henry asked. "Why are you really here?"
"I told you-"
"No more bull shit!" Henry yelled.
Henry noticed that Sam was now awake, watching him. She didn’t look at anything or anyone else in the room. What could she be thinking? Did she know…?
"Sam," Tina said, trying to get the girl’s attention.
"I’m on your bloody side, you dumb Yank," Angus said in a low, menacing voice.
Henry absorbed this. He didn’t lower his gun. He tried to read into it…the truth. But he couldn’t. Was the truth even out there? He doubted it. He seriously doubted it.
"How long have you known?" he asked.
"Known what?" Angus replied.
"About Oracle."
Angus leaned his head back and his expression lightened up a bit.
"How long have you known?" Henry repeated.
"I learned the truth about…our employer," Angus said, "only a few months ago. I was just like you, Henry! I got my assignments, I killed whomever I was sent to kill, and my bank account stayed nice and fat. Who or what was behind it all? I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. Did you, Henry?" He tilted his head towards Sam. "Before her, did you care?"
Henry didn’t answer right away. He glared at Angus, who met Henry’s gaze without blinking. "You were not just like me," Henry said.
The corner of Angus’ mouth curled up. "Well, not just like you," he replied, "but close enough for government work, eh?"
"You take pleasure in killing," Henry said. "I remember. You’d do it for free."
Angus shrugged. "That’s neither here nor there, now is it?"
"Why are you really here, Angus?"
Angus shook his head. "I don’t know. Only Oracle knows that, right? I’m a bullet, Henry. I go where I’m aimed, once the trigger has been squeezed. A bullet doesn’t ask questions. A bullet can’t change direction all on its own, can it? I’m a bullet. That’s the way I like it."
Henry didn’t say what he was thinking, that a bullet was meant to kill, and a well-aimed bullet, fired by a top-notch marksman, killed every time. Oracle was the best marksman in the universe. Angus was there to kill someone, Henry decided. All he needed to figure out was who, and when.
"Please put the guns down," Tina said. She sounded weak. Henry didn’t look at her. He could see her with the peripheral vision of his right eye. Angus’ gaze remained fixed on Henry, as well. "This is stupid," Tina continued. She was speaking to Henry. "If he wanted to…harm her, he could have done it by now."
"He couldn’t have done it and gotten away with his own life," Henry said. "Oracle never sent me on a suicide mission. I’m betting it’s the same with you."
"Good point," Angus said. "Excellent point, Henry! Bloody marvelous! Now how the bloody hell am I supposed to convince you that I was not sent to kill the girl?"
"Put your gun on the table."
"Henry," Cardinal Roscoe said, "I really think this man proved himself at the front door, when he…" Roscoe cleared his throat.
"When I killed the false priest," Angus finished for him. "And you still have it, don’t you, Henry? You took the second one out brilliantly."
"Maybe he’s telling the truth," Tina said to Henry.
"I guess that’s the real dilemma here," Henry said. "Who do we trust?"
"You can trust me," Tina said. "I mean, Sam can trust me."
"You can trust me, too," Christie said. "You know what I want. I want the story."
No one else spoke up, including Henry. No one moved.
"I’ll put my gun on the table if you put yours on the table first," Angus told Henry.
Henry shook his head. "You first."
"Like hell I will," Angus said. "You’ll bloody shoot me because you think I’ve come here to kill the girl."
"I think he’s telling the truth," Cardinal Roscoe said. "Augustine predicted something like this might happen. One of the scenarios Augustine warned us about was that Oracle might work against itself…the left hand working against the right hand, if you will. Augustine predicted that Oracle might send one of its assassins to eliminate the other assassins that it sends after the girl. This assassin would be the ultimate insider, fully aware of the movements of the other assassins, who themselves are not fully aware of what’s happening."
"That is insane," Alonso said.
"No, it…it’s not insane," Tina said, frowning. "It makes sense. To an artificial intelligence, it’s a fix, a patch. Sam came up as a target. Oracle had to follow its programming and send an assassin to…you know." She glanced at Henry, then continued. "But it realized there was an error, so it sent someone who couldn’t do the job. It must have known all along that you wouldn’t be able to do it." She directed that line at Henry. Her gaze met his and a momentary understanding passed between them. No, he would not be able to kill Sam. She seemed to get that now. "But the subroutine that said Sam had to be…taken care of…decided to send other assassins…so the subroutine that realized the error sent yet another assassin to take care of those assassins. It’s a fix."
"By Jove, I think she’s got it!" Angus exclaimed in a mock London accent.
"That doesn’t make sense," Christie said.
"It makes sense," Tina responded. "It does."
"It’s a paradox," Christie said.
"No, it isn’t a paradox," Tina told him.
"It’s a moral paradox," Cardinal Roscoe said.
"Perhaps," Tina said. "But to an artificial intelligence there’s no such thing as morality. These are merely steps in a program that are taken because they’re the only steps to take. The computer doesn’t know if the program is good or bad."
"So how do you ever find out if something’s wrong?" Christie asked.
"If the code is solid, even if it’s the wrong code, the computer thinks everything is fine. Even an A.I. as complex as Oracle is a slave to its code. It only realizes there’s an error when the code doesn’t get to where it’s supposed to go in the program. There has to be a check program to determine if and when that happens, and an A.I. would write its own subroutine to correct the error."
"So, what you’re saying," Christie said, probing, "is that Oracle has discovered an error in the program and the situation we now find ourselves in…is Oracle trying to figure out a solution?"
"Yes," Tina replied. "I think so. I… I’m not sure."
"I think it sounds bloody brilliant," Angus said. "What do you say, Henry? Let’s have a go, eh, mate?"
&nb
sp; Henry didn’t budge. All of his internal alarms were going off. He’d trusted Angus once, and the Aussie had indeed delivered on his promise to give Henry a shot at vengeance. Henry had taken out the commanders of al-Qaeda and later on the Saudi and Egyptian money men who’d financed the attack on the tour bus. Angus was there with him. It was the only time they worked as a team, and in fact Henry didn’t see Angus again until now, ten years later.
He’d trusted Angus once. But that was a time when he didn’t care about anything, didn’t care if he lived or died, and only found a reason to continue his existence in the hunting down and killing of his family’s murderers. Did that mean he should trust Angus now? There was something at stake, something more than his own hunger for revenge, his own bloodlust.
No, he decided. He could not trust Angus Becker. He didn’t know why…it was just a feeling.
Finally, Angus let out a long sigh, and put his gun on the table.
"Bloody hell," he said tightly. "All right then, there it is, on the bloody table." He put his hands up in the air. "Happy now?" he asked Henry.
Henry still didn’t trust him.
"Get the gun," he said, indicating Tina with a slight tilt of his head.
She got up and started towards the gun, hesitated, then turned to Henry. "Can’t we just leave it there?" she asked.
"No."
She took a deep breath then took the next few steps to where the gun was, reached out and put her right hand on it, leaning past Angus. Angus’ gaze continued to meet Henry’s evenly, unwavering. Suddenly, he broke into a loud laugh. Tina flinched and jerked the gun away.
"C’mon, let’s have some wine and relax now, eh? You’ve got me gun, Henry. No worries!" Angus reached out and grabbed the bottle of white wine, then poured himself a glass, filling it up all the way to the brim. "You need me, Henry."
Henry didn’t respond, just watched as Angus bent down and gingerly sipped his wine with the glass still on the table. Tina handed him the gun. It was just like his.
"So we’re on the same team, then?" Angus asked.
Henry shoved Angus’ gun into his shoulder holster. He didn’t intend to let go of his own gun. "For now," he said.
Angus nodded, lifting his wine glass, now only halfway full. "For now," he toasted, then downed the rest of the wine. He immediately refilled the glass, this time only about two-thirds of the way up. He then piled some more roast beef and shrimp onto his plate. The others all just stood around watching him, as if entranced. He didn’t seem to notice.
Henry turned to Cardinal Roscoe. "I assume you had a back-up plan ready in case the first one went to hell." Which it obviously had.
"Of course," Roscoe answered.
"Forget about it," Angus interjected around a mouthful of chewed roast beef.
Henry was about to turn away from Angus in disgust, but as he started to do so he happened to glance up at one of the dining room windows and saw his wife and child in reflection. Catherine, his wife, and Constance, his daughter. They looked the same as when he saw them in Tina’s neighborhood. They weren’t really there, he tried to tell himself. They stared at him with sad eyes. Disappointment radiated out. Disappointment in him. He’d let them down by letting them die. He knew that, lived with it constantly and would not let himself forget it. He didn’t need them to remind him, to hurt him even more. Maybe that was the point, to bring back the pain. He couldn’t look away even though he felt his spirit withering under their gaze.
Something hit him in the face and he flinched back. Angus had thrown a piece of shrimp at him. Henry felt hatred burn inside him when he looked at the bald man. As if Angus had taken Catherine and Constance away from him. No, but he’d manipulated Henry in his grief, helped make him what he was today.
"Bloody hell, Henry, didn’t you hear the old girl?" Angus asked. Henry glanced at him - he looked amused - and then looked back at the window. The reflection was gone. But the ghosts were still there, he knew, because he could feel them.
Henry looked at Tina. "What?"
"I just asked if you were okay" Tina told him. "You didn’t seem to…hear me."
"Yes," he replied, but he didn’t look at her. He kept looking at the window. He wanted to see his wife and daughter again, even though the look in their eyes was painful. No, he wasn’t okay. It didn’t matter.
He looked at Sam. Redemption. That’s what mattered now. Henry needed to redeem himself in the eyes of his wife and child by saving Samantha Rohde. If Angus could help Henry do that, regardless of the fact that Angus was an organism somewhere on the level of pond scum, then Henry knew he would work with him.
"Maybe you should rest," Tina said. "You need sleep. I know I do."
"No sleep," Henry said. He didn’t trust Angus enough to sleep.
"So now what will you do?" Alonso asked Roscoe. "Go somewhere else?" The tone of his voice made it apparent that he hoped someone would tell him that yes, they had to leave. He’d already differentiated himself from them by not asking what will we do… He wanted them to go. Who could blame him? He felt put out, or perhaps he was afraid. Too bad.
"It doesn’t bloody matter what we do," Angus said. "Whether we stay here or go to the bloody state capitol, it doesn’t matter. Oracle is two steps ahead, no matter which direction we decide to run. The replacement assassins will find us, but we’ll know they’re coming, thanks to me, and we’ll deal with them. Regardless of whether or not we move or stay put. It’s pretty bloody comfortable here, so I vote we stay put."
"The Vatican will send another team," Roscoe said.
"They’ll never get here," Angus responded with finality.
"They’re already in the States," Roscoe continued.
"They’re dead."
"How can you be so sure?" Christie asked.
"It’s all part of the way Oracle operates. The Vatican’s back-up team will automatically be sent if there is no communique from you, right?" Angus looked at Roscoe, who just stared dumbly back at him for a moment and then nodded. "Oracle knows that. It will intercept them just as it did the two out there in the van."
"I think you’re underestimating-" Cardinal Roscoe started.
Angus cut him off. "Oh, please." He looked disgusted. "Face reality. Oh, excuse me, I forgot you’re a bloody Christian. You can’t face reality. So let me do it for you. Oracle knows the Vatican will wait a while before sending a third team, if they send anyone else at all, that is. So Oracle ensures that Little Miss over there stays put, right where Oracle’s assassins can find her. Make sense?"
"No," Henry said.
"Then why don’t we move her?" Christie Seifert asked. Still taking notes.
"I think that’s a good idea," Alonso added.
"Because it’s easier for me to know the when and where of the next assassination attempt if she stays put." Angus leaned back and ran both hands over his bald head. "Jesus Christ, people, you better bloody well listen to me if you want to help the girl stay alive." He leaned forward and looked at them. "That is what we all want, isn’t it?"
"Of course," Alonso answered first, glancing at Tina.
"The girl is an innocent," Cardinal Roscoe said, "and the Vatican has authorized me to do whatever it takes to protect her life."
"Whatever it takes?" Angus asked with a smirk. "I wonder if you really understand what that means." Roscoe opened his mouth to say something else, but Angus continued. "Don’t worry, padre, I don’t doubt your commitment to doing your duty."
Henry looked at the Cardinal, who owed his allegiance to the Church, not to Sam. What might his duty entail? Was it a reason for him not to trust Cardinal Roscoe?
What Angus had said made Henry think that he was on Sam’s side, st least for the time being. If what Angus and Tina had said about Oracle was correct, Angus was an invaluable ally. But Henry still believed Angus had another agenda. If protecting Sam fit into that agenda, at least they could take advantage of that…for the time being.
"Okay," Henry said. "We’ll stay here. Now what
?"
Angus nodded as he saw that the others had let Henry decide for them. "Can I have me bloody gun back, then?" he asked.
Chapter 21
Delta flight 1477 landed at Hartsfield International Airport at seven o’ clock in the morning. Yatin barely felt the wheels touch the tarmac. Annika, sitting beside him, smiled.
"We’re here," she said.
"Smooth landing," Yatin replied.
Annika patted him on the right hand, with which he tightly held onto the armrest of his seat. During the approach they’d hit an air pocket or something, which had caused the plane to drop suddenly. A woman behind them had actually screamed, but the captain’s voice came over the speakers to let everyone know that everything was all right, that they’d just flown through a mild air disturbance, and the plane was right on target to land. While not normally a white-knuckle flyer, Yatin didn’t like to fly as a general rule. This made traveling to India to visit his parents and siblings a rare event. His last trip "home" had been two years ago, which meant he would be due for another one soon. Too soon, in his opinion.
During the flight from New York to Atlanta he had fleshed out his background for Annika, his parents’ humble origins, their struggle to overcome the officially nonexistent caste system and become successful in spite of their own impoverished beginnings, his upbringing in what would have been considered poverty in America or Europe but which amounted to pretty good circumstances in India. She had related a little of her background, her privileged upbringing in Sweden, a girl’s school in England, then college, then backpacking around Europe, odd jobs for a while, and now, much to her father’s happiness, graduate school.
They each turned on their cell phones on the way to the baggage claim area, and Kumar’s beeped to indicate he already had messages waiting for him. He decided to ignore them until they were settled at the hotel. They retrieved their luggage, then walked outside to hail a cab to take into Atlanta. Annika told the driver to take them to the CNN Center downtown. Traffic was bumper to bumper on the interstate heading into town as the skyline glinted brilliantly in golden light from the rising sun.
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