“I know that,” Shirley said, looking older and tired than he ever had before. “Hell, even he knows that. I just don’t think he gives a damn anymore.”
“No, I suppose not,” Archer allowed. “How is she?”
“Not good. It’s a miracle she’s still alive. They say the odds of her ever waking up from the coma are too low to bother putting a number on. They’re not even talking about recovering from everything else. She got tore up bad. The bastards…”
“I was out at the Fortress,” Archer said. “I can’t tell if he’s in there or not. He’s got it locked down so tight not even a fly can get in there. Satellite imagery is no good because you can’t get a good enough angle to see more than a few square yards of dirt, much less the house.
“If he is out in the wind, we don’t have any hope of locating him better than the Brits did,” Archer added. “To be honest, I can’t say that I hope we can stop him. Not this time.”
“Agent Archer,” Shirley said quietly.
“Yes?”
“I saw what the girl looked like when they pried her out of that wreck. I hope he burns it all down and sends every last one of them right to hell.”
In his heart of hearts, Archer couldn’t find it within him to disagree,
* * * * *
Wells opened up his e-mail and saw the reply he’d both been hoping for and dreading. There was a photo attached, a picture taken with a camera phone of a young woman lying in a hospital bed, covered in bandages and tubes. The body of the e-mail bore just one question:
WHO DID THIS TO HER?
He looked again at the photo and made his decision, one he thought Old Man Karpov would understand. He hit the reply button and typed:
GEORGINA SOORS. WHEN YOU ARE DONE WITH HER, COME FIND ME. THERE IS ONE LAST THING I MUST TELL YOU AND TIME IS SHORT.
Then he hit send and for the first time in years began to hope there might be some redemption for his soul after all.
TWENTY
“Has the couch been delivered yet?” Soors asked over the phone, riding in the back of her limousine as she neared her office in Manhattan.
“The Secret Service just picked it up,” Conorley said. “They should have it in the Oval Office by this evening. The timer is set as planned.”
“They didn’t notice the switch?”
“Not at all,” Conorley assured. “It looked exactly like the one they checked out. It wasn’t too hard to switch the tag out thanks to a rather loud diversion. In less than thirty hours we’ll be in business.”
“Finally,” Soors said, hanging up the phone. The last of the Del Rios dead, this time for real, and the deathblow about to fall on the United States that her parents had long prepared her for. Her driver pulled up to her building and quickly hopped out to open the door for her.
Soors made her way inside, taking her private elevator up to her office, so engrossed in her plans that she failed to realize that her secretary was not at her post outside Soors’ office door. She threw her coat on her couch and leaned across her desk to start up her computer, then froze as she felt the muzzle of a gun against the back of her head. The click of a hammer slowly being cocked back froze her blood.
“I have money,” she said to her unseen visitor. “I can give you whatever you want if you don’t hurt me.”
“I very much doubt that, Georgina,” Del Rio said coldly. “There’s nothing you’ve taken from me that you can ever return. Now turn around. Slowly.”
The muzzle withdrew and she did as she was ordered, her eyes flying wide open in shock as she recognized who had her at gunpoint.
“You’re dead,” she gasped out.
“I got better.”
“So you’re going to shoot me now?”
“No, Georgina, I’m not. You don’t get off that easy.”
“You think you can arrest me then? You actually believe I will ever go to trial?”
“No, there’ll be no trial either.”
“Then what are you planning on doing?”
“We’re going to talk,” Del Rio replied. “You’re going to tell me exactly why you’ve gone after my family.”
“And then?”
“Then I’m going to kill you, Georgina. How much you suffer depends on what you say to me in the next ten minutes.”
* * * * *
“Mr. Wells?” the voice of his assistant came over the intercom.
“Yes, what is it?”
“I think you should turn on the news right now, sir.”
“What channel?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
What the devil?, Wells thought as he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV in his office. It was already set to the twenty-four hour news channel. As soon as the screen flared to life, he could see why his assistant had sounded so frantic.
“Again, reporting our top story,” the anchor woman’s voice came over the speaker. “Georgina Soors, considered to be the wealthiest woman in the world and credited with propelling President Arthur into the White House, has been found hanging on the side of her building in downtown Manhattan tonight. It appears it may be a suicide as she is hanging from a cable that has been tied off at the top.
“Police and first responders are attempting to recover her body and so far no apparent reason is known as to why she would take her life. For those of our viewers just joining us, a shocking death sure to roil the business and political world tonight…”
Wells turned off the TV and ordered his car to be ready to pick him up. He knew Soors hadn’t killed herself. It wasn’t in her makeup, especially not when she was sure she was going to see her plans come to fruition.
No, this was the work of Del Rio and in a way he couldn’t help but admire the man’s choice for bringing about the demise of the woman who had tormented his life for so long. Georgina would have been thrilled to have gone out as a martyr to the cause. But by making it look she had taken her life by her own hand, no one would ever have cause to ever discover the truth.
With Georgina gone, Del Rio would have one last target to eliminate and it would take him a few hours to make his way from New York City down to the D.C. area. It would give him time to make it home and prepare for the inevitable. The ride home was mercifully quick and Wells sent the driver home for the night before entering his home.
He called out once inside, but received no answer from his wife or his daughter and grandson who were visiting from Richmond. Likely out shopping or having dinner out as he hadn’t been expected home for at least two more hours.
He went into his study and poured himself a glass of Johnnie Walker Blue Label. Draining half the glass as he sat at his desk he wondered how long it would be before Del Rio paid him a visit. He didn’t expect it to be overly long.
He wasn’t disappointed.
“Good evening, Charles,” Del Rio said only two minutes later.
“Good evening, Jack,” struck by a sudden thought. “My family?”
“Wasn’t here when I arrived either,” Del Rio answered, sitting down in another armchair. “I’ll try not to be here when they return.”
“I appreciate that,” Wells replied, strangely shamed that he’d considered the possibility that Del Rio would take an innocent life out of spite. Despite all that had been done to the man, he had somehow managed to never cross that line. “For whatever it’s worth, there was much done that I disagreed with.”
“Yet you did nothing about it at the time,” Del Rio accused.
“No,” Wells admitted. “I didn’t. That’s why I hope what I am doing now will somehow make up for that.”
“You said we needed to talk and we were short of time. What do you need to tell me?”
“There is one last attempt underway,” Wells said. “Even with Georgina dead it is still on going. I cannot stop it, Jack. I doubt they’d believe me until it was too late.
“But you can,” Wells continued. “And you have less than a day to do it.”
“That’s not a whole lot of ti
me. What’s the plan?”
“They’ve planted a low-yield nuclear device in the White House. I don’t know where exactly, but I can give you the name of the person who does know. William Conorley.”
“Our Ambassador to Great Britain?”
“The same. And he’s in Baltimore, just outside the potential fallout zone, waiting to be included in Georgina’s new government.”
“He must know she’s dead and that’s not happening now.”
“I’m sure he saw the news, same as I did. Just as I am sure he’s dumb enough to think she actually killed herself. He’s probably figuring out how to step into the void and take it all for himself.”
“Then I’d better get up to Baltimore and pay him a visit,” Del Rio said as he rose from the chair and Wells finished off his drink. “When does the balloon go up on this device?”
“Six in the evening, tomorrow,” Wells replied. “Is this where you kill me now?”
“No,” Del Rio said, pausing at the door to look back at Wells. “I killed you about a half a glass ago.”
Wells looked at the empty glass. He hadn’t tasted anything different about the Blue Label but there were substances out there that would kill without warning or leave a trace.
“Will it be painful?”
“No.”
“How long do I have?” Wells asked, even as they heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. His family had returned home.
“About thirty minutes. Long enough to say your goodbyes,” Del Rio said as he left to exit unnoticed from the rear of the house.
“Thank you for that,” Wells said, not sure if Del Rio heard him. “That’s more than I deserve.”
* * * * *
As Wells had expected, Conorley hadn’t suspected anything amiss in Soors’ alleged suicide and had remained in his hotel he’d checked into. By the stroke of midnight, Del Rio had all the information he needed to prevent the tragedy and the United States, though not aware of the fact, was in the market for a new Ambassador to the Court of St. James.
He started out for the White House, then changed his mind as an idea struck. He had eighteen hours left until detonation and that would be just enough time for him to do even more than just save a building and a portion of a city. If he played his cards right, he had a chance to save the entire country one last time and make all he’d done and endured worth it.
Maybe, he dared to begin to hope, he might even manage to save whatever small piece of his soul he had left.
TWENTY-ONE
Archer was waived straight into the Oval Office, which was a scene of absolute chaos. Arthur, the Vice-President, both of their Chiefs-of-Staffs, Doyle and the heads of several law enforcement agencies were gathered inside and taking over each other.
Archer himself had just arrived, having received a call from Del Rio just six hours before telling him to get to the White House by no later than four o’clock that afternoon. No reason had been given other than a warning that those behind the conspiracy were making one last attempt and he would reveal it to Arthur at four.
“Mr. President,” the Chief of Staff yelled aloud, the phone in one hand. “Del Rio is on the phone and asking for you.”
The cacophony died down instantly as Arthur took possession of the phone, placing the call on speaker for everyone in the room to hear.
“Mr. Del Rio,” Arthur said as he laid the receiver down on the desk. “You’ve stirred up quite the hornet’s nest, once again. You say millions of lives are in jeopardy. Would you care to explain?”
“Yes sir, I would,” Del Rio answered, obviously shouting to be heard over what sounded like a loud engine and a strange chopping noise. “But I’d rather do it in person if I may. If you would be so kind as to order your men not to shoot me out of the sky when I get there or when I get out of this helicopter after I land, I’d appreciate it.”
“You recall our arrangement, Jack? You’ve obviously broken it.”
“Yes, sir. But if you’ll hear me out, I think you’ll agree it was necessary.”
Arthur remained silent, considering his options and his interactions with this rogue ex-agent.
“Sir,” Del Rio said when the pause went on too long. “If you’ll forgive me, we don’t have a lot of time here. You need to decide what’s more important: Killing me or saving American lives. If it will help you decide, the target is the White House and the device is already in place. You’ve got a little over two hours before the balloon goes up. What’s your call, sir?”
The room erupted again in protest an Arthur had to shout to quiet it down.
“Sir?” Archer said. “Whatever Jack has done, he’s always done for the right reason and he’s never lied to you or me.”
“No, he hasn’t,” Arthur agreed, nodding at Archer. “Alright, Jack. I’ll rescind the order to shoot on sight, but we’ll have someone watching you closely so I would advise against trying anything. When will you get here?”
“Three minutes out,” Del Rio answered. “You might want to tell Jeremy to let his boys on the roof know I’m coming in a white copter and I’m landing as close to your office door as I can.”
Doyle was already ordering his men to stand down and escort Del Rio inside. Arthur disconnected the call and looked over the room. Every pair of eyes was staring back at him.
“We’ll hear the man out,” Arthur said. “I owe him that much.”
Del Rio was dead on in his estimate as a white helicopter swooped in and settled down to land closer than Arthur thought possible for an aircraft of that size. Del Rio himself got out of the pilot’s seat, ran around to the other side and hauled a second man, in handcuffs and looking very unhappy, out of the helicopter. Doyle’s men quickly converged on the pair and, after a brief exchange and a search that yielded no weapons, escorted both men to the President. Arthur was surprised to see the handcuffed man was Ellison Brandengarter.
“This is sure to be a hell of a story, Jack,” Arthur said.
“Forget about him for now,” Del Rio said, planting Brandengarter into a chair. “What is of more importance is there is a dirty bomb in this very room and it is set to go off right at six tonight.”
“Impossible!” Doyle roared.
“Is it?” Del Rio replied calmly. “Mr. President, can you confirm that the late Ambassador Conorley spilled a pot of coffee on a couch in this very office a few days ago?”
“Yes, I can and what do you mean by ‘late’, Jack?” Arthur asked.
“Damn, they haven’t found him yet then,” Del Rio said chagrined. “Late as in he’s dead, sir, and I’ll fill you in on that in a bit. Back to the main point. The couch was ruined and he insisted on replacing it, right?”
“Yes, he did and the Secret Service thoroughly checked it out before bringing it in here.”
“This blue one, right here?” Del Rio asked, tapping the couch twice with his right hand.
“Yes.”
Del Rio reached down and pulled the cushions off.
“Anyone in here have a knife so we can cut this material off the frame?”
Doyle shot an exasperated look at Arthur, who waved at him to do as Del Rio asked. The Director motioned for one of his men to take care of it. A few deft cuts and Del Rio peeled back the material. Then he looked up at Arthur. The President, along with everyone else in the room was shocked into silence.
A device, complete with a timer counting down to zero with less than two hours remaining in its task, sat attached to the couch frame. The civilians did not recognize it, but the law enforcement and military people knew it for what it was.
A dirty bomb with just enough nuclear material to kill hundreds of thousands.
“How…?” Arthur managed to get out.
“Conorley was in on it,” Del Rio reported. “Georgina Soors was the head of it. She was looking to finish what they’d started the last time.”
“Georgina…”
“Sir, I know this is a lot to take in, but we’ve little time. Have your men detach the d
evice – it won’t go off even if its dropped – and load it up into my helicopter so I can fly it out of here.
“We really need to get moving here people,” Del Rio said with more force and volume, shaking everyone out of their shocked stupor.
The room erupted in movement as several Secret Service men went to work getting the bomb out of the frame and headed outside. Del Rio found himself next to Arthur, with Archer and Doyle standing nearby.
“What are you planning, Jack?” Arthur asked.
“I’m planning on flying that damned thing as far east out over the Atlantic as I can before it goes off,” Del Rio replied. “Maybe we can clear some air space and find me a nice empty area of water out there so no one is killed when that goes off?”
The Secretary of the Navy had been just close enough to overhear and commandeered the phone to give the order.
“What about you, Jack?”
“I’m dying already, sir,” Del Rio said somberly. “Got the diagnosis a few days ago. All I’m trading is maybe a year with most of that being unpleasant in exchange. I can accept that.
“Besides,” he continued quietly. “Most of my life has been about taking lives. I’d like to go out saving them for a change. And to be honest, I’m tired of seeing all of the faces of those I’ve had to kill whenever I close my eyes.”
“I see,” Arthur said sadly. “Well, I suppose if any man has earned the right to choose his own death it would be you, Jack. So what does Brandengarter have to do with this? Was he in on it?”
“No, sir,” Del Rio replied, waving to have Brandengarter brought over, waiting until he had joined the discussion before handing Arthur a thumb drive the Secret Service search had overlooked, drawing a mutter of disgust from Doyle. “Sorry, Jeremy, they were in too much of a hurry and looking for something larger.
“Brandengarter was never a part of Soors and her group,” Del Rio resumed the conversation. “But he has been considering making his own move against the government.”
Jack Del Rio: Complete Trilogy: Reservations, Betrayals, Endgames Page 56