“You can get into my apartment, right?”
He nodded.
As soon as the door closed behind me, I called Jessica.
“Someone is trying to kill Cope,” I said before she could even say hello.
“Yes. That’s one of the reasons Money wanted to wait to meet.”
“I need a face-to-face now.”
“Let me see what I can do.”
I heard a knock at the door but knew it wasn’t Cope. When I opened it, Rock handed me the bag I’d left in his apartment.
A few minutes later, Jessica called back. “I’ve been able to get a meeting set up in one hour at the Express offices.”
I went into the bedroom and looked for something that might be easy for me to put on. I couldn’t very well show up in Cope’s sweatshirt that I’d been wearing for the last couple of days.
I managed to get into a pair of dress pants and a sweater, but didn’t try to get my cast inside the left sleeve. The only thing I couldn’t do a damned thing with was my hair. I looked out the peephole of the door, relieved to see that Buck was still out there, not Rock. He stood when I opened it.
“Hey, Miss Ali.”
“Call me Ali.”
He tipped his hat. “Anything you need?”
“As a matter of fact.” I handed him my brush and dug a hair tie out of the pocket of my pants. “It looks like you might have some experience with this.” I motioned to the ponytail hanging down his back.
“Turn around. Where you off to today?” he asked while he brushed my hair back and wrapped the tie around it.
“I have a meeting.”
He handed me the brush. “Where?”
“Why?”
“I like to know where I’m goin’.”
“Do you really have to go with me?” I asked even though I already knew the answer.
Buck nodded.
I turned to go back inside to grab my bag when something occurred to me. “Do you, uh, need to use the restroom or anything?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
I pointed toward the guest bath and went into the bedroom. When I came back out, Buck was waiting by the door.
“You must hate this part of the job.”
He shrugged. “It could be worse. You’re prettier than most of the people I have to keep my eye on.”
I went back into the bedroom to grab a jacket. When I came back out, I didn’t see Buck.
“Ready?” I asked when I found him perched outside my apartment door.
“Rock is downstairs, waiting with the car.”
When we arrived at the Express building, Buck went in with me. I was about to sign him in as a visitor after I showed security my badge, but the man waved him through.
“Does he know you?” I asked as he led me over to the bank of elevators.
“Yes.”
I shook my head at his abrupt response. Not that I’d expected him to explain.
When we arrived at the top floor, the receptionist escorted me through the double doors and into an office where I saw Jessica sitting behind a desk.
“Ali, good, you’re here.”
She stood and led me down a hallway to a closed door. “You’ll have to wait out here,” she said to Buck, who nodded.
Money was waiting inside, but not where Buck could’ve seen him.
“How are you doing?” he asked, motioning to the empty sleeve of my coat.
“Better. The pain meds knocked me for a loop for a few days.”
He helped me with my coat and draped it over an empty chair. “Have a seat.”
I waited until both he and Jessica were seated before speaking. “As I said earlier, I believe someone is trying to kill Sumner Copeland.”
Money rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. “I’ve also received a request to put him on paid leave, pending an investigation.”
“I thought he was already on leave?”
Money nodded.
“Do you know who’s targeting him?”
“The edict came directly from the director.”
“Fisk?”
“Affirmative.”
Like in Cope’s apartment, I couldn’t sit still. I stood and paced. “Why?” My question was rhetorical. If Money knew, he would’ve said already. “What do you want me to do now?” There was no point in my continuing with my original mission. If Cope was dirty, he’d be arrested, not murdered.
“Stay the course. He knows who’s targeting him and why. It’ll be up to you to find out.”
I grabbed my coat and was about to walk out when Money’s phone buzzed at the same time Jessica’s did.
“Yes,” he answered, holding up one finger when I put my hand on the door.
I looked at Jessica, who hadn’t answered her phone. She shrugged.
“I’ll wait for an update,” we both heard Money say. He set his phone on the table and rubbed his eyes. “There was a shooting. Irish is in surgery. There are reports of another casualty. It’s unclear who it is.”
I pulled open the door, not caring if Buck saw Money. “I need to get back.” Buck nodded, and I knew he’d heard. “Where’s Cope?”
“On his way to the hospital.”
“Take me there.”
We raced to the elevator; Buck’s phone vibrated. “Wheaton,” he answered. “She’s right here.” I couldn’t hear what the person on the other end of the phone was saying. “Copy that.” Buck disconnected the call and put the phone in his pocket. “My orders are to escort you back to the apartment.”
Twenty
Cope
I grabbed my phone when it vibrated moments after I ended my call with Buck.
“Cope. I just heard,” said Decker. “Any word on his condition?”
“I’m headed to the hospital now.” I didn’t want to know, but I had to ask. “Who’s down, Deck?”
“Easy.”
“Fuck.” I had half a mind to turn the car around and drive straight to Langley. Before I killed the Director of the CIA with my bare hands, I needed to get a better read on Irish’s condition.
John “Easy” Harris was a former agent. He was married with two kids. Two kids who were now fatherless. Someone was going to fucking pay. Not just for his life but for the lives lost of the other agents all over the world.
Irish had nobody. His parents had both passed in the last few years, and like me, he had no siblings. Didn’t even have cousins. I was the closest thing he had to a relative, and I considered him my brother.
I pulled up in front of the same hospital Ali had been taken to, tossed the rental’s keys to the waiting valet, and raced inside.
“Surgery?” I asked as I ran past the information desk.
“Fourth floor but, sir…”
I was inside the elevator before the woman finished her sentence. It opened to another desk.
“Can I help you?”
“Paxon Warrick.” I turned my head and saw Rage waiting.
“Your name?”
“Sumner Copeland.”
“Someone will be out to speak with you as soon as there’s something to report.”
Rage stood when I approached. “Sorry, Cope.”
“Not your fault. Who else was in there with you?”
“Ink. He’s working it from the inside.”
I nodded and walked over to the windows. “What happened?” I asked when Rage was close enough that we could speak without anyone overhearing.
“Cellblock ambush.”
“Who was the shooter?”
“There were two. Both guards.”
“Did you recognize them?”
“Negative. First time I’d seen either of them.”
“Excuse me,” I said when my cell rang with a call from my father. “Dad.”
“Where are you?”
“At Saint James’ Hospital.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Dad, you don’t need to—”
A little over an hour later
, he walked off the elevator and motioned for me to follow him down a corridor. He pushed open the door of the chapel.
“What the fuck have you and Irish gotten yourselves mixed up in?” His face was beet red.
“Have a seat, Dad.”
He glared at me.
“Have a seat, and I’ll tell you.”
He walked to the front pew and sat; I remained standing.
“The first thing you need to know is that Warrick is innocent.”
“Get on with the rest of it.”
“Not until you swear on my life that you’ll let me finish what I’ve started.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then, I won’t tell you a fucking thing.” I turned to stalk out.
“Sumner. Wait. I’ll swear to it.”
“Sit back down.”
I’d just finished telling my father about the mission Irish and I took on without authorization from anyone within the agency or the committee that oversaw it, when my phone buzzed with a message from Rage.
“He’s out of surgery.” I bolted out of the chapel and back to the waiting area.
“Mr. Copeland?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Dr. Pollari, the head trauma surgeon. Mr. Warrick is out of surgery and is being transferred to the SICU. He suffered several body cavity GSW, the main damage to left renal, pancreas, and spleen.”
“When can I see him?”
“Give it another hour or two. Register with the surgical ICU. They’ll contact you when you can go in.”
“What’s his condition?”
“Still critical.”
I turned when the doctor walked away, and met my father’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Son. We’re all praying.”
The elevator doors opened, and Ali stepped out, followed by both Rock and Buck. When I looked into her beautiful eyes, I felt a sense of relief that even my father hadn’t given me. She put one arm around me, and I held her close.
“You were supposed to wait at the apartment,” I murmured, breathing in the scent of her hair.
“I couldn’t.”
I pulled back, cupped her cheek with my palm, and looked into her tear-filled eyes.
“How is he?”
“Still critical, but alive.” I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder.
“This must be Miss Graham,” said my father.
“Ali, this is my dad.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Copeland.” I loved that she didn’t let go of me to shake my father’s hand.
“Call me Henry.”
“If you will all excuse us,” I said, leading Ali toward the chapel where my father and I had talked. “I’ll deal with you two later,” I muttered to Buck and Rock when we walked past them.
“Don’t blame them,” Ali said when I opened the door and motioned for her to go inside.
“Should’ve been two against one.” I winked and she smiled. “Ali…”
She shook her head. “Don’t, Cope.”
“What do you mean?”
“Whatever you’re about to tell me, don’t.”
I sat on the pew where my father had and pulled her down next to me. “Why not?”
“Not yet.” She put her arm around my waist and rested her head on my shoulder. “I had to see you.”
I ran my hand through her hair. “I’m sorry I told Buck not to let you come.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” I said, putting my fingers under her chin and raising her head so I could see her eyes.
“Will Warrick be okay?”
“I believe he will.” I heard the door open and the distinct sound of my father clearing his throat. I turned my head.
“Just need a minute, Sumner.”
“Be right back.”
I followed him out into the corridor. “As soon as Irish can be moved, I’ve made arrangements to have him relocated to an undisclosed location.”
“Dad, I asked you—”
He held up his hand. “No one within the agency will have any idea where he is.”
“No one?”
“No one, Son. Executive order.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I’m assuming you have your own team to put in place as far as protection, but if you need help, I can make a couple of calls.”
“Does the president know?”
My father shook his head. “I’ve been around a long time, Sumner, and I don’t ask for very many favors.”
“Thank you,” I said, hugging him.
“I’d do anything for you, Son. Anything.”
As I watched him walk away, I wondered if I should’ve gone to him years ago when all this began. I’d been so afraid to trust anyone that I’d lost sight of the fact that there were people who had earned it.
Twenty-One
Ali
While I sat in the apartment, worried sick about Cope, I’d come to a decision. There was enough evidence piling up that neither Cope nor Irish were the moles. I didn’t know who was yet, but it wasn’t my job to figure that out.
I called Money directly, and he accepted my suggestion that there was no need for me to continue my assignment. He offered to inform Jessica.
“Will you be returning to California right away?”
I had planned to stay a few more days, but until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to me that the end of the assignment would mean I couldn’t stay in the apartment any longer. “I’m not sure, but I can move my stuff out of the apartment this evening.”
“There’s no hurry. You can stay. Just let Jessica know your plans.”
I’d thanked him and told him I would.
After I hung up, I realized I had no idea which hospital Irish was in. Instead of calling Money back, I opened my front door.
“We can do this one of two ways. You can take me to wherever Cope is, or I’ll go above your heads and do it.” I took out my identification—my real identification—and showed it to them. “My reason for wanting to go to him is entirely personal and has nothing to do with my job. He has enough on his mind right now. Do not burden him with this.” I looked into both Buck’s and Rock’s eyes, and they nodded.
Now here I sat, knowing Cope had been about to confess all to me a few minutes ago, but I wasn’t ready to do the same. I wanted one more night with him. I wouldn’t ask for more than that.
“They said I can see him now,” Cope said from the chapel doorway.
I brushed away the tear that fell, and stood. “Go ahead. I’ll wait here for you.”
“I won’t be long. They said I can only stay fifteen minutes.”
I nodded and waved and then sat back down on the pew. Cope looked so hopeful. As though whatever weight he’d been carrying was about to be lifted. And maybe it was. I hoped so for his sake.
“Mom,” I whispered, standing to light a candle on the altar. “If you can hear me, I need you and Dad to look out for him. He’s a good man.”
“And you love him,” I heard a woman’s voice say.
I turned around and saw Stella sitting in the back pew. “How long have you been here?”
“Just a minute or two.” She got up and walked toward me. “Sounds like you’re leavin’, sis. You gonna say goodbye first?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “He has a lot going on.”
“So you’re just gonna walk out the door and break his heart? Is that your plan, Ali Graham Mancuso?”
“My assignment is over. No point in sticking around.”
“No explanation? No nothing?”
“I was assigned to determine whether Cope was Irish’s accomplice. He may have been, but not in the way anyone originally believed.”
“Have a seat.” Stella pointed to the front pew.
“I should be going.”
“Have a seat,” she repeated, standing between me and the door. “I have a story to tell you.” When I sat down on the pew opposite the one she’d pointed to, she laughed. “That’ll do.” She walked up to the altar and lit the candle next to the one I
had. “I’m a little older than you,” she began. “But you and I have something in common.”
“What’s that?”
“We’re both in love with Sumner Copeland. Wanna know what we don’t have in common?”
I nodded, willing my eyes not to fill with tears.
“Cope doesn’t love me.”
“He doesn’t know who I really am.”
“Do you really think that’s going to make a difference?”
“I do. Besides, assignment’s over, like I said. Time for me to go home.”
“If he asks, what do you want me to tell him?”
“I’m not going to ask you to lie, if that’s what you think.”
“I did some digging. You’re a good writer, Jennifer Cavalleri. You could be a damn good reporter.”
“How’d you know it was me?”
“I already am a damn good reporter. One of the best, in fact. So, why’d you quit?”
“The CIA made me an offer that was hard to turn down.”
“I read your book. It was really good.”
The book Stella referenced was an exposé on rampant corruption in the State of Illinois. I’d written it while I was still at Northwestern and hadn’t known at the time that the department chair of the school of journalism, a woman who was also my mentor, had sent the manuscript off to an editor she knew at one of the remaining big five publishing houses. By the time they offered me a contract, I was already employed by the CIA. It didn’t thrill me that Stella had linked me to it, since the publisher guaranteed there would be no link to me and that’s what I’d assured the agency.
“Hey, Stella. I didn’t know you were here,” said Cope, coming in the chapel door.
“Just keepin’ Ali company while she waits. How’s Irish?”
“They said he looks a lot worse than he is, but they believe he’s going to pull through.”
“I’d ask you for an exclusive, but my guess is Ali will get it before I do.”
Cope rested his hands on the back of the pew. “It isn’t over yet, Stella.”
She nodded, and I wasn’t sure how I’d missed it before. It was so obvious now that she was in love with him. I wondered if Cope knew.
Handled: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World) Page 12