“This place was built in the 1960s?” Troy asked.
“I thought it was later,” Raz said. “But who knows? This could have been here before they built the house.”
Troy nodded.
A careful hand had documented a timeline of every time the world was “reset,” knowledge was lost, and humans retreated once again into the dim light of primal survival. Just trying to take in the grim details, Alex followed Max from event to event. Max pointed to a date, and she nodded.
“It’s hard to tell if this is madness . . .” Max said.
“Or brilliance,” Alex finished his statement.
“It’s both,” Troy said.
“Yes,” Raz said.
“Alex?” Troy asked.
Alex turned to look at him. He pointed to a mark on the blackboard signifying the murder of the Fey Special Forces Team. She swallowed hard.
“Go ahead,” Max said. “I’ll stay here.”
Alex went to the end of the timeline.
“That’s next year,” Alex said under her breath. Her fingers hovered over the chalk mark.
“Dex’s handwriting,” Raz nodded. “9-11 is over here.”
Raz pointed to a mark in the chalk.
“Seems to be part of the trigger for . . .” Troy put his hands on his hips and looked around the room. After a moment, he added, “Something is coming.”
“Something catastrophic,” Raz said.
“According to Dex.” Max glanced at the blackboard timeline before turning back to the wall in front of him. “Dex also thought a lot of things happened.”
At that moment, Alex happened to look up. Above them, etched into the concrete, was the compass rose with the eye in the middle center. She gawked at the symbol.
“Sir?” Vince asked from the doorway. “You need to see this.”
Alex looked at the symbol one last time before glancing at Raz. He had followed her lead and was looking up. Feeling her look, he glanced at her. She gave him a soft smile and followed Vince from the room. Max came out of the room a moment later.
“Did you see . . .?” Max started and pointed up.
Alex nodded. They followed Vince to a wall in the large main room. The entire wall was covered with photographs stuck into thick corkboard tiles. Leena stood at the end of the board.
“Sir?” Leena asked. “I believe it’s some kind of a timeline. Starting here.”
Alex went to where Leena was standing. Her eyes flitted from photo to photo. There was a photo of King Leopold, who murdered millions of people in his quest for wealth in the Congo. There was a picture of a young, and naked, Mao Zedong in bed, which looked like it had been taken by a friend or lover.
“Here,” Vince said.
He pointed to a photo of General George Custer’s crumpled body face down on the Montana plain.
“He looks so young,” Max said.
“Thirty-six,” Alex said.
“Weird how they look like they were taken by someone who was there,” Raz said.
He’d followed them to the wall. He glanced at Alex and went to a corkboard covered in photos on their right.
“I thought the same thing,” Leena said. “They’re like creepy family photos.”
“Yeah, it’s almost as if the photographer was in bed with Mao or drinking with Himmler,” Alex said, and pointed to the photos.
“Or at the Battle of the Little Big Horn,” Max said. “Who could have taken this photo?”
“Good question,” Raz said.
“You wanted us to see a photo of Custer?” Shrugging, she looked at Vince.
“Next to Custer,” Vince said. He pointed. “We were instructed not to touch the wall.”
Alex and Max moved in to take a closer look. Next to the photo of Custer, partially covered by a photo of Pol Pot urinating, was the Stars and Stripes article about Alex and Max decoding the CIA’s Kryptos statue. Alex reached out to touch the yellowed paper.
“Sir,” Leena said. “We’ve been asked not to touch.”
Alex nodded.
“You also need to . . .” Vince pointed to the far right corner of the board.
“That’s . . .” Alex started.
“The photo of Josef Yakovlev, with Buffy Joiner and the Boy Scout,” Vince said.
“The one Raz took from Buffy’s house,” Alex said.
Alex shuddered.
“Gives me chills,” Alex said.
“Alex?” Raz asked. He waved for her to come to the partial wall perpendicular to the Custer wall.
“Seems to be some kind of investigation,” Vince said.
“It’s a murder-investigation board,” Raz said.
“Whose?” Alex asked.
“Dex’s,” Raz said. “He was trying to figure out who was trying to kill him and why. Look. Each event is separated along the timeline and by the number of people involved.”
Raz pointed to a cluster of photos and information written in the chalk.
“Images from surveillance videos . . .” Raz pointed to an image. “Of the action as well as later photos of the places.”
As if they were paintings in a museum, Alex took in the photos and information. She went from grouping to grouping before looking at him.
“Notice . . .” Raz said.
Alex stepped close to the board. She went from image to image and then back through them again.
“All the perps’ faces are turned away from surveillance,” Leena said. “Is that usual?”
“No,” Raz said. “Means they must have known the camera was there. They cased the area.”
“Each of these attempts were planned in detail,” Alex said. “What’s that?”
She pointed to a satellite image at the top right of the board.
“Looks like an ICBM site,” Raz said. “There was a decommissioned Ajax site in the city Dex grew up in.”
“I thought he grew up here,” Alex said.
“His parents divorced,” Raz said.
“Gee, I wonder why,” Leena gestured around her.
“Absolutely,” Raz said. “Dex’s mother couldn’t leave the state with him, so she took him to Ellensburg. It’s just inside the border in upstate New York. Dex grew up there and came to the city for college. I think that’s why he wanted to be a cop. He wanted to help fix the weird.”
Alex nodded and stepped back to look at the whole board.
“Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to try to kill Dex,” Raz said.
“Dex has gone to a lot of trouble to figure out why,” Alex asked. “Is there an NYPD case on this?”
“Not according the Detective Williams,” Raz said. “I asked her when we were stuck there this morning.”
“Why take him now?” Vince asked. “Why not kill him and move on?”
“Drive-by, even,” Leena said. “These attempts are so . . . personal.”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Raz asked.
“Max?” Alex asked.
“I agree,” Max said. “We need to control the scene.”
She looked at Max and nodded.
“Trece?” Alex looked around the large room to see where Trece might be. He came out of a room. “Your team is taking over this location. Please lock this down.”
“Yes, sir,” Trece said. He glanced at Max, and Max nodded.
“Fey Team?” Alex called. “We need still and video images of everything you’re seeing. It’s unlikely that we’ll get a chance to get back in here.”
Royce relayed the information to the top. Raz took out his phone and took pictures of Dex’s investigation board. Vince and Leena took pictures of the photo board. Alex and Max went back into the timeline room to help Troy take detailed images of the timeline. Trece’s camera phone flashed in the main room.
Alex, Max, and Raz waited for the last of the Fey Team to leave the basement bunker before heading up the stairs. Trece closed the door, and Raz locked it. Trece held out his hand for the key. Raz looked at him for a long time before placing the key in hi
s hand.
Trece and Max went to the front to speak with the NYPD and the FBI.
“Why is Max . . .?” Colin asked in a low tone.
“He’s the head of that team now,” Alex said.
“Trece’s super-secret, doesn’t-exist-but-has-clearance-over-everybody team?” Colin asked. He looked up to the front. “Our Max?”
“Until Steve comes back.” Alex nodded.
“Wow,” Colin said.
Alex raised an eyebrow. She went from team member to team member to check the images they’d taken of the basement. When she finished, she went to stand next to Raz.
“How are you holding up?” Alex asked.
“I’m . . .” Raz nodded.
He smiled at her concerned face. She hugged him.
“You remember that flash drive Larry stole?” Raz said in a low tone in her ear.
“Yes,” Alex said.
She winced at the memory of the flash drive her friend and intern Sergeant Larry Flagg had stolen and given his life to protect.
“I swear to God some of the images on that wall were on that drive,” Raz said.
“Which wall?” Alex asked.
“The one with your article on it,” Raz said. “I remember the intimacy of those photos.”
“I recognized the Ajax site from those photos,” Alex said.
“A couple of the locations where Dex was almost picked up,” Raz said.
“Yes,” Alex nodded.
“How would Larry have those?” Raz asked.
“Not Larry,” Alex said. “Whoever took him.”
Alex shuddered again. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. Matthew and Joseph came down the alley toward them.
“Max’s team has arrived,” Joseph said. “They are taking the over scene.”
“The NYPD has agreed to look for Joshua Peretz.” Matthew glanced at Raz, who nodded. “They want to interview him.”
“I’ll give him a call,” Raz said.
Alex gave Raz an amused look.
“We need to get to France,” Alex said. “Fey Team! Let’s get out of here. Pete and Bill, too.”
Alex waved them down the alley. She walked between Matthew and Raz.
“How’s married life?” Alex asked.
“A day in?” Matthew gave her a beaming smile. “Pretty fantastic.”
“Does it feel weird?” Alex touched his wedding ring.
“It feels perfect,” Matthew said.
They had almost reached the end of the alley when Alex stopped walking. She took out her phone and began pressing applications. Looking up from her phone, she caught Raz’s eye.
“I know where he is,” Alex nodded. “Dex, I mean. Joseph, Matthew, how do you feel about a little stateside hostage retrieval?”
“Any day, any time,” Joseph grinned.
“Yes, sir,” Matthew said.
F
Chapter Sixteen
Tuesday night
May 17 — 7:42 p.m. MDT (9:42 p.m. EDT)
Denver, Colorado
John pulled on the knot in his tie as he walked down the flagstone path from the garage. From the path, he could see through the window in the door into the kitchen. Cian was cooking like a madman. One of Troy’s boys, Hector James probably, walked to the window with a platter. The boy waved to John, and John smiled. With Raz gone, John did all of their barbequing because, in Cian’s words, it was something even he couldn’t screw up.
John had no idea who they were cooking for, but, clearly, it was something big. He looked down for a moment to see if he remembered anything. When nothing came to mind, he scowled. He was greeted at the door by Maggie, their English Springer Spaniel, and Hector James. It still surprised John how tall Hector James had grown in the last months. He smiled at the boy.
“I’m supposed to tell you to grill these now. ‘No time to come in.’” Hector James looked over his shoulder. “But I won’t tell if you want to come in and see the twins. They’re asleep.”
“And Maggie?” John asked.
“We took her to the dog park after school,” Hector James said.
“Brilliant, thanks,” John said.
“Grill?” Hector James asked. He pushed the plate in John’s direction.
“If the twins are asleep, and Maggie’s been out, I’d better do just what the master orders,” John said.
Hector James snorted a laugh and then blushed at having made the embarrassing noise. John smiled. Hector James thrust the platter at John and turned in place.
“Ár mhac?” John called Hector James by the name Alex had given him — “our son” in Irish Gaelic.
Hector James turned.
“Would you mind?” John held out his overcoat and briefcase.
Hector James took them.
“I can take your tie, too,” Hector James said.
“It’s okay,” John said. “My hands are a little full.”
“Just a second,” Hector James said.
Hector James closed the door in John’s face. John stood on the back step for a few minutes before the boy returned. When the door opened, John heard Cian yelling.
“Does he need help?” John asked.
“Mental help,” Hector James snorted at his joke but smiled this time.
John laughed. Hector James gave John an apron.
“Who’s coming?” John asked as he put the apron on.
“I’m not supposed to tell you,” Hector James said.
“What’s the problem?” Cian yelled. “Tell him to get cooking, or we’ll lock him out.”
John chuckled at the idea of Cian locking him out of his own home. Hector James laughed at John’s expression.
“Who’s coming?” John repeated.
Behind Hector James, John saw his elder sister, Neev, come down the hallway and into the kitchen. John suddenly flushed with rage. He gave the boy a dark look and practically shoved the plate of lamb into the boy’s belly. Furious, he took the mudroom in two steps and was in the kitchen in an instant.
“You will get out of my house this instant,” John said.
No one in the room had ever seen John angry, let alone this full of rage. The boys gawked at him. John saw Cian moving to his left.
“Out, you vermin,” John picked up a straw broom. As if he was sweeping, he bat at his sister’s feet until she was out of the kitchen.
“Now, Johnny,” Cian said.
“No,” John said. “She killed Mum and almost killed Alex.”
Neev reeled back in horror.
“She just got out . . .” Cian started.
“I will tolerate a lot of things, but I will not tolerate the woman who tried to kill my Alex in our own home.” John held the broom against Neev’s feet, but turned to talk to Cian. “She almost killed Raz, Max, and Troy. Wyatt, too. Who will she turn on next?”
John turned back to Neev.
“Did you come back to finish the job?” John spit at her.
Neev shook her head.
“I should have killed you myself,” John said.
John was so angry that he struggled to catch his breath. Everyone fell into a stunned silence. John looked from horrified face to horrified face.
“No,” John said again. “I will not allow her to stay.”
He turned to Cian and pointed.
“You will never make me,” John said.
He nodded, as if to convince himself.
“Johnny.” John turned to see Neev’s husband Jack Mac Kinney standing in the doorway to the shared dining room and living room. A tall man with a barrel chest, Jack filled the entire doorway. “I wonder if I might have a word.”
“Fine,” John said.
He threw the broom at Neev and stalked out of the kitchen. He grabbed the platter of lamb steaks and apron from Hector James and went out into the cold evening.
“Good lad,” Jack Mac Kinney said. He patted Hector’s back. “Don’ worry yourself. That family — they’re mad as hatters, the whole lot of them.”
Jack
followed John out the door. John went around the house to a patio tucked between the side of the rooming house and the duplex where Cian and Margaret now lived. Jack had to trot to keep up. John opened their smaller grill and started turning on the burners. He turned on an outside light, closed the grill, and went to a cabinet next to the grill.
“What?” John asked with his back to Jack.
“Uh . . .” Jack started.
John turned in place. He pointed to Jack with his long steel barbeque fork from the cabinet and went to the grill.
“You’re not using the bigger one?” Jack asked.
Jack was clearly fumbling for something neutral to talk about. John shot him a dark look.
“This grill is better for this cut of meat,” John said. “Gives a better sear.”
“Americans,” Jack said. “Who knew?”
“I’m not . . .” John started.
“Yes, Johnny, I know what you are,” Jack said. “You’re a boy who lost his beloved mum when he was a baby. I can’t imagine it. Jimmy told me you and he were there when Brigid was killed.”
John looked at him out of the corner of his eye and gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head.
“You remember?” Jack asked.
“Flashes,” John said.
“Then Rita, God love her, takes you to England,” Jack said. “I know how fierce Rita can be, but she couldn’t have been much of a mum to you.”
“What are we talking about?” John asked.
“I’m trying to say that I understand,” Jack said. “Now, you have all of this — some given, some worked for — and, last year, you came near to losing it all.”
John grunted and started putting the meat on the grill.
“I came near to losing everything, too,” Jack said.
John looked at his brother-in-law for a moment before returning his attention to the grill.
“Got anything wet?” Jack asked.
John nodded to the cabinet.
“I spent some time with that Alex of yours,” Jack said. “On the way back to the States, in Afghanistan. I’ll tell you, she’s spectacular.”
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