by James Hunt
All that was left now was paperwork. Grimes had been swimming in it since he’d returned from Chicago. He included as much detail as he could in all his reports, but in the end, he knew most of it would be redacted to whatever kind of story his superiors wanted to tell. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he knew he’d see that woman again. It was only a matter of time before she slipped up and exposed herself. People like her didn’t change their habits; they kept going until they were locked up or dead. It was in her nature. Just like it was in his nature to catch her.
***
Much like they had been for the American leaders and the CIA, the press conferences for Andrea had been nonstop. She took a moment between interviews to sit down and rest her mind, eat, and make sure she had enough coffee in her to make it through the next fifteen press sessions. She’d been anxious all day, and not because of the interviews or the coffee. Tonight she’d finally get the answer to the question she’d been waiting for since the attack on the G7 summit.
“Chancellor?” Alexander asked, poking his head into the room. “I’m sorry, but they’re ready for you.”
Andrea nodded and left half the sandwich on the plate then drained the rest of the water in her cup. The reporters rose upon her entrance then sat when she made it to the podium. The sea of faces staring at her comprised members of the press from all different countries, mostly the ones that had been affected by the power outages a few weeks ago.
“Thank you for coming.” Andrea cleared her throat. “As you all know, the collaboration between the German government and the Americans has been an ongoing affair. Together we have been able to discover the roots of what Tuck Investments’ involvement was in regard to the global grid failure that happened just a few weeks ago. This collaboration will continue at the international level, and we both hope it will last for a long time.”
Hands shot into the air as the press called out her name. She pointed to a young Indian man in the third row. “Chancellor, what is the relationship with China and Russia at this point in time?”
“Both myself and the American president, along with the other members of the G7, are working on making sure we reestablish communications with our eastern neighbors as quickly as possible. Both parties understand that trust will be an issue moving forward, but as long as the lines of dialogue remain open, we’re optimistic that trust will heal quickly.”
Another round of hands went up, accompanied by a flurry of questions filling the room in a crowded roar. She looked toward the back, the lights shining in her face, and pointed to an older woman sporting a CNN badge. “Chancellor, there has been speculation that there may have been a third party involved in the death of the Tuck Investments board. Do you have any comment on that?”
“I can assure you that the only countries and organizations involved in the investigation were the American and German governments with their underlying investigative departments.” Andrea scanned the rest of the room, squinting in the light of the cameras in the back. Then, against the back wall, beyond the cameras and the lights, she caught a glimpse of a figure dressed in black. She tried looking for it again but lost it in the blinding lights. The shouts of questions continued as Andrea frantically scanned the back wall. Then she found the door at the back and watched the figure disappear. “I’m sorry, everyone, but that’s all the time I have. Thank you.”
The press rose and their voices along with them, clamoring for more answers, unsatisfied with the amount of time. Andrea burst into the hallway, looking for the woman who had disappeared. She knew it had to be her; she would recognize her anywhere.
Alexander rushed after her, his opening of the doors bringing with it the roar of angry reporters inside. “Chancellor, what’s wrong? You still had at least another fifteen minutes before you were scheduled to leave.”
Andrea didn’t answer. She walked up and down the hall, looking into doors, searching for the woman she knew was no longer a ghost. “Clear the hall.”
“What?” Alexander asked.
“I want everyone out. Security, press, staff, everyone needs to get out. Now.”
Andrea didn’t have to repeat herself. Her staff and security escorted everyone out of the hall then disappeared themselves. Once everyone had gone, the hallway fell into a silence. She stood there, waiting, hoping the woman would reveal herself.
“Nice place.”
Andrea spun around, and there she was, dressed in the same outfit as the night she’d broken into her personal quarters, the same outfit she’d worn when she saved her from the Russians at the G7 summit. “I knew it was you. We were scheduled to meet later.”
“Yeah, well, I was in the neighborhood,” Sarah said.
“Do you always show up unannounced?”
“Only for the people I trust.”
Andrea smiled, and Sarah reciprocated. She noticed some light scarring on Sarah’s face that looked like it was still healing, but in those eyes she could still see the same focus and ferocity as before. Seeing those eyes was like a wave of reassurance washing over her, one she hadn’t felt in a long time. “It’s very good to officially meet you, Agent Hill.”
“I suppose I have you to thank for having the American government drop their files on me,” Sarah replied, shaking the chancellor’s hand. “It’s good to know I won’t be on the six o’clock news anytime soon.”
“Consider it a down payment for a favor,” Andrea said.
“Favors tend to lead to bad deeds. Not that I’m putting myself on a high horse. I work for a spy agency, for crying out loud.”
“It won’t be for something petty, I can assure you that. But should the time come that I need your help, I hope you would repay the favor.”
“Technically, I think you helping me makes us even. But—” Sarah stopped, sizing Andrea up, and in that moment, she felt exposed yet unafraid. “I do love German beers. Throw in a case of Hefeweizen when you ask for your favor, and we shouldn’t have any problems.”
“Thank you, Sarah,” Andrea said. “For everything. You saved all of us.”
“I know.”
And with that, Sarah gave one last smile and disappeared down the hall. Andrea stood there alone, just staring at the space Sarah had left. It was quiet, empty, and a staggering contrast to the entity that just occupied it. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Alexander poked his head through the door, snapping her out of her stupor. With everything that had happened over the past few weeks, she felt an overwhelming sense of finality. But it wasn’t until that moment that she felt something was just beginning.
***
After a week of government interviews, agents scouring the house, construction workers repairing the damage done, and no privacy, Becca finally had the house to herself again. She stood in the kitchen, and with the exception of Ella and Matt occasionally giggling, which she didn’t mind hearing at all, all was quiet. She drummed her fingers on the kitchen counter, her eyes glancing at the clock on the wall. The doorbell made her jump and caused both Ella and Matt to run downstairs. Becca intercepted them before either of them reached the front. “You two, back upstairs.” She pointed, and they sulked up the steps.
Becca took a breath, closed her eyes, and gathered her nerve. She opened her eyes and opened the door as calmly as she could. “Hi.”
Sarah gave a half smile, her feet shuffling awkwardly on the front porch. “Hey.”
Becca stepped aside and gestured her in. Sarah walked past her, and the two lingered in the foyer for a moment before Becca lead them to the kitchen table. “Coffee?”
“No,” Sarah answered. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
Becca poured herself a cup then sat down. She sipped the liquid and fidgeted nervously. She’d gone over this moment in her head a hundred times before, but with Sarah sitting in front of her, it felt different. “I appreciate you coming over.”
“Yeah, no problem,” Sarah said. “How are the kids?”
“They’re getting better. Ella is talk
ing more. Matt seems to still be having a little trouble, though.” Becca took another sip of coffee and found she was unable to hide the slight tremor in her hand. Sarah gently grabbed her wrist, and the shaking stopped. The two of them stayed locked there in that moment. “Sarah, I really don’t know where to go from here.”
“That makes two of us.” Sarah shook her head, rocking back and forth in her seat. “No matter what, you will always be my family. You, Ella, and Matt. You’re all I have left.”
A mixture of anger and sorrow coursed through Becca’s veins. She still loved Sarah, and that was what made it so hard. “You’ll always have your family.” They stayed quiet for a while, just holding hands, letting the familiarity of normalcy soak in for just a little longer. Finally, Becca let go, and both women let out a sigh.
“Are the kids still up?” Sarah asked.
“You want to help tuck them in?”
Becca didn’t need to ask twice, as Sarah headed up the stairs and Becca followed. She wasn’t sure how the kids would react to seeing her again after what they watched her do. The toys in their hands went to the floor, and just like so many times since New Zealand, Becca watched them freeze up, as if an icy grip had taken hold of them. “Hey, guys,” Sarah said, remaining in the doorway. Then, slowly, Ella pushed herself off the floor and walked to Sarah and gently wrapped her arms around her leg. With his sister breaking the ice, Matt wasn’t far behind.
Becca had known Sarah for a long time, but in all the years she’d known her, she’d never seen her cry. The sobs that escaped Sarah were the happy kind of sad you’re glad you were able to appreciate, despite the events that triggered them. It was a step in the right direction. For all of them.
***
Sarah watched from a distance as Grace gave Bryce a kiss then let out a long whistle that made Grace laugh and turned Bryce a shade of red that would have made a doctor think he’d had heat stroke. Grace walked back over to her desk just outside Mack’s office, and Sarah plopped down at her desk, situated right next to Bryce’s. “Look at you with that shit-eating grin.” Sarah nudged Bryce’s shoulder with her arm. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks.”
She gave him a slap on the back that lurched him forward, and he winced from the force behind it. Then Sarah watched Mack go into his office, a trail of steam following him from his coffee mug. Sarah slid in behind him then shut the door and flicked on the glass curtains. “I was wondering when I’d see you in here again.”
Mack let out a sigh as he nestled into his chair, but she wasn’t sure if the squeak came from his bones or the chair itself. “Our review board has been a little hesitant on GSF’s next moves. But with Branston still on the loose, I managed to convince them that we’re still needed.”
“Any luck on the docs I found at Demps’s compound?”
Mack opened one of his drawers then tossed a stack of papers on his desk. “This is what the analysts have come up with based off of Demps’s notes. They think there might be a pattern, but so far it’s nothing but gibberish. Whatever Demps learned about Branston, we won’t know for a while. Once they’re done, I’ll want you and Bryce on that one.”
“I’ll have to check my calendar.”
“You probably will.” Mack pulled out another stack of papers and tossed them on his desk. “These are for you.”
“And what the hell is that?”
“New security protocols. We need to make sure Branston’s escape isn’t duplicated.”
Sarah deflated. “You know how much paperwork makes me gassy.”
“It was one of the conditions from the Review Board for them to consider keeping us open.”
“And what makes you think it worked?”
“We’re getting a new headquarters in New York.”
Sarah flung up an imaginary hat and twirled in a circle, singing “We’re gonna make it after alllll” in Mary Tyler Moore fashion. Mack didn’t bother to watch. She smirked then pulled the envelope from the inside of her jacket and slapped it onto Mack’s desk. “Looks like I didn’t need that after all.”
Mack picked it up and held it between his hands, examining the writing, the seal, then looked up at Sarah. “You didn’t open it.”
“Because you didn’t die. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to, but at the time, I had some other things on my mind.”
“Open it.” Mack extended it to her, and Sarah eyed it hesitantly.
“I feel like this is a trick.”
“It’s not a trick.”
Sarah snatched it and tore the top off the envelope. She unfolded the paper, read it, tried to stop her jaw from dropping, then read it again just to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. “This is a resignation letter. Your resignation letter.”
“The codes at the bottom were for a file of everything I had on the GSF—its origins, deepest secrets, and any information anyone could possibly want to know about us.”
“Are you kidding me!? ALL our secrets!? I’ve been carrying this thing around the entire time! What if I’d dropped it? What if I’d lost it? Christ, Mack, you gave me a carton of pens a month ago, and by the end of the day, they were all gone!”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t lose it.” Mack snatched the paper back then torched it in the trash can next to his desk.
“And people say I’m reckless.”
Mack returned to the paperwork on his desk, grabbed the coffee mug, then took a gulp from the still-steaming black liquid. “Get back to work, Agent Hill.”
“Yes, sir.” Sarah left the office shaking her head. The old man’s just as crazy as I am.
“And don’t forget the paperwork!”
Sarah was already out the door when she called back to him. “Yeah, I’ll pick it up later.” Bryce popped up from his chair and motioned her over. “Duty calls.” She eyeballed the screen, leaning over the back of Bryce’s chair. “What do we have?”
“A skirmish is getting heated on the Chinese and Mongolian border. It looks like there are some rebels there who aren’t listening to Beijing,” Bryce answered.
“I bet the Mongolians are wishing they had a wall right about now. Send the updates to my mobile.”
“Will do. And try not to cause any more international incidents, all right?”
Sarah spread her arms out, walking backwards to the elevator. “Hey! I’m the queen of discretion and stealth.”
“Except when it comes to my personal life.”
“That’s because your life is like reality TV, and I’m your producer!”
“God, help me.”
The elevator’s doors pinged shut, and it started its ascent. Sarah reached into her jacket and pulled out one of her Colts. It shimmered in the glow of the elevator’s lighting. She slid the top rack back, clearing the chamber. “Time to go to work.”
Broken Lines
The Steel Mill
The floorboards creaked when Mike stumbled from the bed to the bathroom. He tripped over one of Anne’s heels and cursed under his breath, kicking the shoe out of his path. He turned around to make sure he hadn’t woken her up. She was still drooling on her pillow.
Mike crammed himself into the tiny bathroom. His legs smashed up against the side of the tub when he closed the door. He splashed water on his face letting the cold shock him awake. Droplets of water speckled his reflection in the small mirror above the sink. He cracked his knuckles, wincing with each pop.
He showered, shaved, threw his boots on, kissed Anne on her forehead, and did the same with his daughter, Kalen, and son, Freddy, then was out the door.
Dirt and bits of rust and metal flew up from the cloth seats of his truck’s cab when Mike sat down. He pulled the handle of the glove box open. He shoved a small bag out of the way and pulled out a badge. He pinned “Yard’s Steel Mill” to his chest. Scraps of metal and steel rods rolled and clanked in the truck bed as he reversed out of the driveway.
The blue digital lights of the dashboard clock glowed 6:11a.m. The view of the Pit
tsburgh skyline from the interstate was still outlined in grey without the morning sun. Mike’s fingers twisted the radio tuner, searching for a station. Static and scramble came through until he finally landed on an AM radio station.
“Good morning, Pittsburgh. It’s a beautiful Wednesday morning here at 560 WFRB. Traffic right now is clear on highway 62. The first day of summer should be a hot one as temperatures are expected to get into the mid eighties this afternoon, so taking the kiddies to the pool to cool off might be in order now that school is officially over.”
Mike pulled into the parking space of an empty lot outside a small, fading brown one-story building. He walked through the empty parking lot up to the automatic sliding glass doors. A smiling receptionist gave him a wave when he entered.
“Hey, Mike.”
“Hey, Nicole,” he said. “Is my dad ready to go?
“Should be. He was finishing getting ready when I walked past him this morning. I’ll give him a buzz.”
“Thanks.”
A few elderly folks with walkers emerged from the hallway into the waiting room where Mike sat. Their liver spotted hands gripped the steel-grey handles of their walkers. The green tennis balls at the bottom slid across the carpet propelled by their slowly shuffling feet.
Ulysses walked down the hallway weaving in and out of the shrunken, hunched over, elderly obstacles and walked right past Mike without looking at him. The automatic sliding glass doors chimed open when Ulysses passed through them and headed for Mike’s truck.