“Dan? I thought I heard your voice in here. Who was it?”
“Work,” he said. “They’re calling me in.” She seemed as though she was about to say something, but he spoke first. “Listen, Jenny, I have to see this one through. I’m in deep, and this guy needs to be caught. But after that, I’m out.”
“What do you mean, you’re out?” she said, sitting down with a concerned frown on her face.
“Out. Done. I won’t put you and Alex in danger anymore. I have to own up to this and do the right thing by you two.”
There was a moment when she just stared at him in silence. Then she said, “Bull crap.”
He looked up at her, startled. Jenny was usually unwaveringly proper.
“What?”
“You heard it. You need me to say it again? Okay, here you go: bull crap.” The word still sounded uncomfortable on her lips, but she said it with definite conviction.
“What’s bull crap, Jenny?”
“This. This talk about quitting. It’s absurd.”
“What are you talking about, Jenny? I thought this is what you wanted.”
“Look, Dan, it might be what I want. I might even have thought it was right. But I don’t anymore. They came into this house and took me away to be killed. These people deserve justice, and you’re the one who can bring it to them.
“But if it weren’t for me,” he said, looking down and trailing off. “If it weren’t for me, and what I do, you wouldn’t have been targeted.”
“If it hadn’t been you, then they would have attacked someone else. And that person probably would have died, because she wouldn’t have had you to protect her.”
“Jenny . . .”
“Don’t baby me, Dan. This is who you are, this is what you can give to the world. And it’s right for you to do it. So quit moping. It’s not like you.”
He smiled. God, that woman. “I guess I’d better go, then,” he said, standing up. Before he could take a single step, she approached him and kissed him deeply, and passionately.
“My hero,” she said. “Go to it. Oh, and Dan? Kick his ass.”
Morgan made it down to Zeta headquarters in fifteen minutes flat. He arrived to find Bloch at the war room table with Bishop, Shepard, and Barrett.
“Come join us,” said Bloch. “We were just having a strategy meeting, but I’ll fill you in. Our contacts tell us that the FBI has located the man who is behind the attacks. Shepard.” A surveillance image of a man appeared up on the screen. “He goes by Edmund Charles. The FBI has their sights on him. He has a safe deposit box at the Regency Trust here downtown, and he’s set up an appointment for tomorrow. They intend to run an operation and catch him in the bank. But we are going to snatch him right out of their jaws in the parking garage.”
“Uh, can I just come in with the obvious here?” said Barrett. “Why not let the FBI take care of it?”
“No,” said Morgan. “I’m not trusting a government agency with this. This guy sent Novokoff after my family. We are the ones who are going to take him.”
“The FBI has its rules and regulations,” said Bloch. “They won’t have the ability or will to use him to get to Novokoff. And that’s what we desperately need right now. The plan is that we catch him. We’ll have a van at the ready in the garage, and the tac team will make a quick extraction before he goes into the bank.”
“What if he gets away?” asked Morgan.
“He won’t,” said Bishop. “He won’t be expecting us. We know the location. We know exactly what to do. We’ll have live surveillance footage so we’ll see when he comes in. He won’t slip away.”
“I’d rather I was there, acting as insurance,” said Morgan. “In my car. If for some reason you don’t succeed, I’ll get him.”
“What makes you think you’ll be able to?” asked Bishop. “He got away last time.”
“I have better wheels this time around,” he said. “This time, he won’t be so lucky.”
CHAPTER 57
Boston, March 10
It was a clear and sunny day as Morgan waited on the street in his Shelby Cobra for Edmund Charles to arrive. He had a clear view of the exit to the garage of the building that housed the Regency Trust. It was half past seven in the morning when he saw the Audi TT Roadster approaching, and inside, Edmund Charles, still recognizable in a black wig. The car turned into the garage.
“Rabbit is in the hole,” Morgan said. “Repeat: rabbit is in the hole.” He turned the ignition key. He wasn’t going to get caught with his pants down.
“In position,” said Bishop.
There was a pause as Morgan listened for the others’ communication.
“He’s parked,” said Diesel. “Visual contact established.” A few seconds elapsed. “Why isn’t he coming out of the car?” asked Spartan.
“Something’s wrong,” said Bishop. “Look. He’s backing out. All units, move in! Don’t let him get away!”
“He’s gotten past me, moving toward the exit,” said Diesel.
“Cobra, heads up, he’s coming out!” said Spartan.
Morgan heard the rumble of the engine first, and then the Audi burst out of the entrance, breaking the barrier and squealing a tight curve at an exaggerated speed.
“Cobra,” said Spartan, “it’s all on you now. Go get ’im!”
He didn’t have to be told twice. Morgan floored the gas pedal and the Shelby took off. He heard police sirens behind him—no doubt the FBI, now having realized what had happened. Morgan pushed harder, closing in on Charles. The Shelby was bigger and heavier than the Audi, but Morgan had the more powerful engine.
That didn’t matter quite as much in the city, however. The Audi had him beat in maneuverability. Charles crisscrossed his way through the downtown streets, and Morgan followed behind him. It was clear that he was headed back to the highway, and there, Morgan would have the advantage.
“Cobra, what’s going on?” asked Bloch.
“I have him in my sights,” said Morgan. “Track me if you want to know where.”
“Good luck,” she said. “We’re counting on you.”
With Morgan hard on his tail, Charles wove through traffic and ran red lights. Morgan drifted along the curves, accelerating as much as he could in the short stretches of clear road in order to keep Charles within view. Finally, they reached the access to the highway. Charles squealed up the on-ramp, with Morgan hot on his tail.
They sped together along I-93, but there was no way that Morgan could even get close enough to use any of his car’s capabilities. At first, he planned on hooking onto the back of Charles’ car, but Charles was too evasive, and he couldn’t line up behind him properly. At the speed they were going, it was likely that one or both of them would soon get killed. Morgan didn’t give a rat’s ass about Charles’s life, except that he was their only connection to Novokoff.
So Morgan accelerated. Charles tried to force him off the road when they were alongside. In the stretch they were on, that would mean an eighty-yard drop to the streets below. But the weight of Morgan’s car had the advantage here. You’re not getting away this time, asshole, Morgan thought. This time, you’re mine.
They tore down the highway for mile after mile, neither car getting the advantage. Then, all of a sudden, Charles dodged him and braked the Audi, almost instantly falling behind Morgan. Morgan responded by turning the wheel and pulling the handbrake. The car screeched as he drifted a full one-eighty and kicked it into reverse, so that he faced the Audi head-on. Morgan had pulled the handbrake before Charles could react. Charles’s car slammed right into his. Morgan winced as the front of the hood crumpled. Then, with the push of a button on his dashboard, Morgan deployed the front hooks, and then the two cars were locked together. With a push of a second button he completely fried all the Audi’s electronics. Finally, he pushed the button on his dashboard, and an acid-green fluid squirted onto the road from behind the car. Going backwards, the Shelby hit the slick first. The back tires burst, then the front, and t
hen Charles’s followed suit. Stuck together, the two cars skidded around, the now bare wheels raised sparks and a terrible grinding noise, until both came to a halt on the shoulder of the road.
His car stuck to the other bumper to bumper. Morgan glanced at Charles, who looked dizzy and confused, and smiled. “Looks like we’ve got a caged rabbit on our hands,” he said.
CHAPTER 58
Boston, March 10
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t I have certain rights in this kind of situation?” said Edmund Charles. Morgan hit him hard across the face.
They were at a designated safe house, a small isolated rural home just off the highway, with the broken hulls of cars in the yard. Edmund Charles was in a chair with his hands bound with duct tape. Morgan had commandeered a Ford Escort from a bystander, old enough not to have any kind of GPS tracking, and had gotten his prisoner out of there. Orders had come down from Bloch to take him to the safe house and keep him there until someone came. He was supposed to hold on to the man and do nothing, but Morgan was ignoring that part.
“I think you’re mistaking me for the government.” Morgan hit him across the face once more.
“I am well aware of who you work for, Mr. Morgan.”
Morgan narrowed his eyes. “Not many people who know that name have lived long enough for it to cross their lips too many times.”
“Oh, yes? And how much longer would you wager I have to live?” For a neutral face, Charles looked quite self-satisfied. “Eh, Mr. Morgan?” Each time he said the name, it was a taunt. It said that he knew, and that his family wasn’t safe.
“Not too long,” said Morgan, with satisfaction. “What’s your plan?”
“You mean what was the plan? You should know. You managed to stop the shipment before it was distributed.”
“Where’s Novokoff?”
“How should I know?” said Charles, with an exaggerated shrug.
“He works for you.”
“You know yourself that Novokoff has been . . . erratic, of late.”
“He was infected by the fungus you had him steal,” said Morgan.
“So I understand,” said the American. “Although, as it was told to me, that was your fault.”
Morgan backhanded him across the face. “I’m not kidding around here. Where’s Novokoff?”
“You know, the fungus seems to be affecting his brain quite a bit,” the man continued, oblivious to the question. “He has sunk to depths of cruelty that even I would not have imagined. I mean, what he tried to do to your poor sweet Jen—”
Morgan grabbed him by the throat and began to squeeze him hard enough that he might have rendered Charles unconscious. Then he released the hold. Charles showed no emotion.
“I’ll rip your head off if you say her name again.”
“Not an ineffective threat, I must say,” said Charles, spitting blood.
“Maybe you should be working harder to get on my good side.”
“What do you suppose is going to happen here?” asked Charles.
“You’re going to tell me what I want to know, or you will feel pain that you can’t imagine.”
The American laughed airily. “Sadly, no. Let me tell you how it will happen. You will not be allowed to keep me here. They are going to tell you that they have their own facilities, their own interrogators. They are going to take me away and you will never see me again. You may believe them when they tell you that they extracted whatever information it was possible to extract, and then disposed of me. But they will never prove it to you. They don’t care. And you will always have that twinge of doubt. What if they let me go?”
“Why the hell would they let you go?” asked Morgan.
“Because, Mr. Morgan. I have friends in places so high you cannot even see them.”
“Why don’t you tell me about them?” said Morgan.
“Oh please, you don’t actually expect me to—” Morgan punched him in the gut before he could finish. Edmund Charles retched.
“No,” said Morgan. “I mostly just wanted to distract you before I did that.”
“Very droll,” said Charles. “But I do have one more thing I have to offer you. An offer you may not want to reject.”
“What is it?” asked Morgan.
“I can tell you who you’re working for. I can tell you what Aegis is. I can see I caught your attention. You’ve been wondering about that, haven’t you, Morgan? Tell me, does it keep you up at night? I can take all that doubt away. Let me go, Morgan, and I’ll tell you what Aegis is.”
If anything did keep him up at night, it was this. Who was he working for? Whose interests was he serving? And here he was, someone willing to tell him. To give him all the answers.
“You don’t know anything.”
“No, Morgan. You don’t know anything. You play your little spy games as if you had some choice about the future, about what happened and how things turned out. Newsflash. You’re just a pawn. An expendable piece on the frontline. And behind your actions aren’t kings. They are players. And until you realize that, you’ll never be a player yourself. You’re going to continue to be played until someone decides that you’re a reasonable sacrifice to make to save a truly important piece.”
Morgan backhanded Charles across the face again.
“You’ve got nothing,” Morgan said. “Nothing but bullshit.”
Morgan heard a car pulling up outside, the wheels crunching the gravel and coming to a stop.
“Oh?” said Charles expectantly. “What’s that I hear? I do believe it’s the chariot that’s going to take me out of here.”
Morgan pulled out his gun and held it against Charles’s head, his hand trembling with rage. Charles laughed.
“What are you going to do, Cobra? Kill me?”
“It would certainly put an end to all this,” said Morgan.
“Will it now? Novokoff’s still out there.”
The front door opened with a long creak and Diana Bloch and Mr. Smith walked into the room.
“What exactly are you doing, Morgan?” demanded Bloch.
“Interrogating the prisoner,” he said.
“You were not to do anything before we arrived,” said Bloch.
“Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Morgan has been treating me very well,” Charles said blithely. “He’s been introducing me to the back of his hand. I can say that we’re pretty well acquainted by now.”
“Let’s get him back to Zeta,” said Bloch. “Morgan, would you escort him to the car?”
“Let me propose a deal first,” said Charles.
“Screw you,” said Morgan.
“It’s time sensitive and good for right now only!” said Charles. “I don’t doubt your . . . persuasiveness. I’m sure you’ll get me to say everything and more, eventually—ah, and that ‘and more’ is really the tricky part, isn’t it? But never mind, not here. Here, I offer you a one-time deal.”
“We’re listening,” said Bloch.
“I give you Novokoff and you let me go,” said Charles.
“He’s diseased,” said Bloch. “He’s going to die anyway.”
“I know what the fungus does,” said Charles. “It will make him more and more violent.”
“It’ll also kill him,” said Bloch.
“That it will,” said Charles. “But who knows how long the serum is going to keep him alive? And Novokoff is a man who can cause quite a bit of violence under normal circumstances. Imagine what he could do, filled with rage and knowing for a fact that he is going to die?”
Put like that, even in his own anger, it sent a chill down Morgan’s spine.
“Then there’s the matter of his disease. A bit contagious, isn’t it? Enough, probably, to kill, what, thirty, forty percent of the population of any place where it took hold?”
Bloch looked at Smith with an uncertain face. Smith offered no emotion.
“The clock’s ticking,” he said.
“You’re not actually thinking about this, are you?” Morgan asked.
“Why should we trust you?” Bloch asked Charles.
“Oh, you don’t think I actually want to cause a mass outbreak of this fungus, do you?”
“It’s what you tried before,” she said.
“That was for profit. And that whole plan is shot to hell now, isn’t it? There’s no use destabilizing the market if I don’t get to make money out of it. Trust me—” Morgan scoffed. “Trust me. I would personally much prefer if Novokoff were captured and killed. There is nothing that he could reveal that could do more harm than has already been done.”
“What do you want?” asked Smith.
“Simple,” he said. “My freedom.”
“I can guarantee your freedom if we find Novokoff,” said Smith.
“What good are guarantees? You are not the government. You have no constraints on your actions.
“What can I offer you, Mr. Charles?” asked Smith. “A helicopter? A plane?”
“There’s nothing you can offer me that you can’t arrange a trap for me,” said Charles. “Unless it happens now. I want the car you came in. I’ll give you his location as I drive away.”
“You must think we’re stupid,” said Morgan.
“I have no reason to hide his location from you. I want him killed. But it’s my only bargaining chip. That is my offer. And trust me, it expires very, very soon.”
“What do you mean?” asked Bloch.
“Novokoff will act soon. You know it and I know it. You need all the time you can get. Let me go, and you have your information now.”
Bloch looked at Smith, who nodded in assent.
“You can’t be serious,” Morgan said, exasperated.
“Quiet, Dan,” said Bloch. “This is not your decision to make. I think we have a deal, Mr. Charles.”
Morgan’s mind burned with anger. “He’s as responsible as Novokoff for what he did to my wife.”
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