CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Five hours later
September 9—5:13 P.M.
Denver, Colorado
“I’m not going to call you Papa,” Alex said, answering her cell phone. She was standing at the window of their hotel room, with the door open to the suite sitting room.
“I’d be a little offended if you did. It would be nice not to be the ‘sperm donor’ anymore.”
“I’ll think about it,” Alex said, disagreeably. “Why didn’t you use protection?”
“Because I planned on marrying your mother. I thought . . .” Ben blew out a breath. “It was my last chance at a normal life. She was gracious enough to want to be with Patrick instead of me. She saved us both from a real mess.”
“Hmm,” Alex said.
“Property?”
“Yes—let’s move on,” she said.
“There’s nothing in any of the transcripts about land or property of any kind. Raz ran one of his programs and came up with nothing. You don’t remember the call?”
“I remember Eleazar telling me that everyone was dead. I have this vague impression that he screamed at me.” She shook her head and rubbed her eyes.
“Focus on the vague impression.”
She sighed.
“OK . . . The feeling is that he knew I had tricked him.”
“Tricked him?’
“I mean, I wasn’t surprised that he wanted this thing or that he was angry. And at the same time . . .”
“What?”
“I felt like I had lost something important. Not lost, I had put something somewhere, but I couldn’t remember where.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know what I mean. I was distraught, bleeding, in tremendous pain, and he was yelling at me. I’m not very good when people yell.”
“Let’s back up. Is it ‘some thing’ or ‘something’?”
“Thing. Some object.”
“This property exists.”
“But I don’t have it. Yes, that’s right.”
“I wonder what it is,” Ben said.
“Who knows? Listen, this bombing is the first time he actually tried to kill me,” Alex said. “I spoke with the IRA. It has all the hallmarks of an IRA bombing, but they swear they weren’t involved.”
“I’ve never known them to not take credit for something.”
“They are credit hounds,” Alex said.
“Go through it for me. Start at the beginning of the day.”
“We got up about five o’clock. Max and I took my jeep to the gym, where we met Erin. John went to the hospital for rounds and was due home before noon. Max was at the house, answering email in John’s office, when he got a phone call from Fran.”
“When was that?”
“Eight? Maybe eight-thirty.”
“Okay, go on.”
“Fran, as you know, is a complete freak. She was very upset.”
“They’ve been on the verge of breakup for . . .”
“A year at least. Anyway, Max thought he should be there, in Paris, with her, in case this was the end. I was at home hanging out with Cian and Eoin, so I told him to go.”
“He bought the plane ticket at the airport,” Ben said, confirming what he knew.
“Yes. He took a cab . . . No. That’s not true. He was going to take a cab but found out that our next-door neighbor, Delores, was on her way to the airport. He went with her.”
“Delores Mendes, the bartender?”
“Yes. She subleases the house from a girlfriend who is living with her boyfriend. I don’t think there’s even a paper lease. The girls are just friends. Raz checked her out when she moved in. She seems clean.”
“There’s no way anyone could have known that Max was gone.”
“Or who he went with. Right. We planned to make cookies and hang out. John’s been teaching Cian how to play this video game. I was going to check the bees.”
“Did John drive his car to the hospital?”
“Yes. And I took mine to the gym. Cian says that it takes at least fifteen minutes to set up a bomb like that.”
“Per car?”
“Yes, per car, and that’s assuming you are good at it.”
“So we have to assume that the cars were rigged the previous night.”
“Right. The demo team says that they were on a timer, but, also . . .”
“Your cars should have gone off when you were driving them.”
“Yeah,” Alex said. “The VBIEDs had mercury tilt switches. Standard IRA issue. The Jeep was set up the same way. The Denver Police demo team sent the entire thing to Homeland. Maybe they’ll find something. Denver PD said the VBIEDs might have been timer sensitive, but no one has seen or heard of a timer-sensitive mercury tilt switch. I have a call into my Navy SEAL friend, Vince Hutchins. He’s a munitions expert.”
“The guy who shared your room at Walter Reed?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“So far, we’ve worked on the assumption that Eleazar is trying to mentally wear you down.”
“Cian suggested that the IRA-style bombing was to add to the IRA news of the last couple weeks.”
“Maybe . . . also takes away your home. It’s one of the few things left on the ‘What’s important to Alex’ list.’”
“Friends, husband, home . . .”
“He doesn’t know that you know about your parentage.”
“Family.”
“We must assume he’s going to go after Max.”
“Right. But he tried to kill all of us—John, me, Max, Cian, and Eoin.”
“It’s pretty dumb for someone to go after the three native IRA . . . huh . . .”
“What?” she asked.
“The IRA would respond immediately, and in kind, to anyone who had killed three of their own. Cease fire or no, the Irish Republican Army takes care of its own.”
“Maybe he thinks he’s doing them a favor, misinterpreting their interest in John Kelly as a desire to kill him. Cian and Eoin had a ‘talk or a hit’ contract.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe. Why did you leave the house?” Ben asked.
“Joseph hadn’t been to the memorial since the ceremony. We decided to go on the spur of the moment.”
“Why did he come down?”
“He received a call from the President. He decided to come down after talking to Nancy all night. There’s no way anyone could have known that. Number one, Joseph has been in hiding. I might be wrong, but I haven’t heard even a murmur that Joseph has been located. He’s underground. Number two, no one knows what this President will or won’t do. Plus, Joseph said that he decided to come down about an hour before he left the house.”
“He didn’t call beforehand?”
“No, he just came down,” Alex said.
“When did he get there?”
“About ten, ten-fifteen.”
“And it’s a four-hour drive?”
“Little more than that,” Alex said. “Do you think the bombs were planted while he was on the road?”
“Who knows? How did he know you would be at home?”
“He didn’t. He said that if I wasn’t home, he would have spent the day in Denver, shopping. Joseph never trusted the telephones, radios, computers—or any transmission, really. He felt that they were too easily monitored. He used to say that secure lines are always monitored by the people who secure them. It’s why we traveled so much.”
“Odd that the President would call on the seventh of the month,” Ben said.
“It’s a month before his big event. He wanted to land Joseph in his corner.”
“Raz is there, right?” Ben asked.
“He’s in Denver. Denver PD says that we can go into the secure office this evening. We’ve rented a truck and lined up a platoon of soldiers. We’re going to get everything tonight.”
“Before we ring off,” Ben said, “I want you to know that I’ve never regretted that night with your mother. She probably told
you that we weren’t great. We were awkward at best. But that night was truly one of the best nights of my life. Every single thing was perfect—well, except . . .”
“She said that you knew it wasn’t right because the night was so magical.”
“We had male-female identical twins, Alexandra. It’s very rare and completely wonderful. I’m so glad, so blessed, to know you and Max.”
“We feel the same about you, Ben.”
She heard him let out a breath.
“Thanks. That means a lot to me. You’ll be careful?”
“Of course.”
“Philippe used to call me ‘Benji.’ Just a thought.”
“I’ll talk to Max.”
Ben hung up the phone.
She dropped into a chair near a window looking out over the Rocky Mountains. The suite was large and comfortable, but it wasn’t home. With a sigh, she checked to see if housekeeping had replaced the bottles of alcohol. She was squatting in front of the tiny refrigerator when John came in the door. Holding a bouquet of two dozen white roses and another bottle of Cristal champagne, his eyes flashed with desire.
Chuckling, she stood to greet him.
FFF
Two hours later
September 9—7:46 P.M.
Denver, Colorado
“And who the fuck are you?” Troy Olivas asked the young, sandy-haired soldier.
“Sergeant Lawrence Flagg, sir,” the boy said.
“And why do I want to talk to you?” Troy asked.
Troy and the Sergeant were standing in what was left of the basement of Alex and John’s house. Up to his knees in black water, Troy blocked the young man’s entrance to the secure office.
“I’m a Green Beret, sir.”
“Good for you,” Troy said.
Sticking his head in the door where Alex and Raz were packing the electronic gear into boxes, Troy said, “Some kid wants to talk to the Fey.”
Alex gave Troy a pained look.
“He has a familiar name. What’s your name again?”
“Lawrence Flagg, sir.”
“You mean the commander of the GI Joe team is standing out there with you?” Raz asked. “Well, by all means, send him in.”
“Hey that’s right. He was killed by . . .
“Major Bludd,” Raz said. He and Troy laughed.
“You really want him in here?”
“No,” Raz said.
“Troy, can you do me a huge favor?” Alex asked.
“Besides standing in disgusting dendrites?”
“Big words make me hot,” Alex said.
Troy blushed and looked down. “What?”
Alex reached into the gun locker and pulled out a rifle wrapped in a blanket.
“Will you give this to my brother Colin? Only Colin.”
“A Winchester Repeater Rifle? Holy crap, Alex. Where did you get this?” Troy ratcheted the metal lever.
“It’s a Henry, and it’s . . .”
“This is an original Henry .44 caliber repeating rifle?”
Troy spoke in reverential tones. Looking up from the box he was packing, Raz laughed at Troy.
“Do you know what this is?” Troy asked Raz.
“Manufactured by the New Haven Arms company, the Henry was designed by Benjamin Tyler Henry in the late 1850s,” said the young man standing behind Troy. “Does it work?”
“Who cares?” Troy asked.
Alex covered the rifle with the blanket.
“The Henry works and belongs to the General,” Alex said.
“Can I use it?” Troy asked
“Ask the General.”
Carrying the rifle in front of him, Troy ran up the stairs. The young man stood in the doorway of the secure office.
“Sir, Sergeant Lawrence Flagg, sir,” the young man saluted.
Alex looked up from the box she was packing. Looking at the young man’s sandy hair and his blue eyes, she furrowed her brow.
“At ease, Sergeant. Do I know you?”
“He looks just like Howdy Doody,” Raz said.
“You broke my leg, sir.”
Raz looked up at Alex and laughed. “How did you break his leg?”
“In the sim, remember?” Alex bumped Raz’s arm.
“Ah, yes, the simulation in which I was wrong, wrong, wrong.”
Alex laughed.
“Sergeant, this is Homeland Security Agent Arthur Rasmussen.”
“Really? You’re Art Rasmussen?”
“I am,” Raz said. “Why?”
“You’re the best profiler in the business. I’m an intelligence officer. Even the Fey, I mean, ma’am . . .”
Alex looked at Larry and then at Raz. She laughed.
“You have a fan,” Alex said.
“Where’s the Jakker?”
“With his children,” Alex said. “He’s on Daddy duty all September. He was supposed to bring pizza about ten minutes ago.”
“I’ll get to meet the Jakker?”
“If you’re lucky,” Alex said.
“I . . .” The Sergeant swallowed. “Wow.”
“Sergeant. We are standing in what used to be my home. We need to finish this task and get out of here before the rest of the building comes down. I don’t mean to be rude, but what do you want?”
“Well, I want to help.”
“Great,” Alex said. “Can you take this chair and give it to my husband? Do you know who that is?’
Larry nodded.
“I realize it doesn’t seem important, but I’ve owned this chair for a long time. My husband will probably cry when he sees it. Please take very good care of it.”
Alex handed Larry the overstuffed green chair, which had somehow managed to miss the water, fire, and blast. Her thumb ran over the green fabric as Larry took hold of the chair.
“Special care.”
“Yes, Major.”
With serious intent marked on his face, Sergeant Flagg carried the chair up the seven remaining stairs and into the night. They heard Max call John. John screamed when he saw the chair. Alex smiled and looked toward the sound, just as her Sergeant came running down the stairs.
“Sir, the Denver Police are saying that we need to finish up. The engineer says that the building is beginning to shift. The ground continues to be unstable. He thinks it’s only a matter of minutes before the rest of the building collapses.”
Alex nodded.
“What can I do?”
“Will you pack the gun locker? There isn’t space in here, but you can get a couple of soldiers to carry them upstairs. Please inventory the weapons and lock them tight. The locker holds most of my family’s weapons. We don’t want to lose anything.”
“Yes, sir,” the Sergeant said. “Sir, Captain Jakkman is here with pizza, a keg of beer, and three kids. The men are wondering if you might authorize . . .”
“Of course,” Alex said. “Can you ask one of the soldiers to watch the kids?”
“Sir, Captain Jakkman has already done that.”
“Great. Thank you. Would you mind . . . ?” Alex saw Zack walking down the stairs. “Never mind.”
“Oh, Alex,” Zack said.
He walked into the secure office and hugged Alex.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too,” Alex said.
“What can I do?”
“We’re almost done, actually. I was wondering if you might keep a couple of things for me.”
“Of course,” he said.
Alex reached into a cubby and pulled out twenty folded maps and a small wooden-backed rubber stamp. She held the stack out to Zack. Their eyes held for a moment. Alex gave him the last remaining original Fey maps and the Fey rubber stamp.
“Would you mind locking these in the car and then getting Max and John to help move the armoire?”
Zack leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
“Thank you for trusting me.”
She nodded.
“Hey Alex,” Max called from the landing o
f the stairs. He moved aside so Zack could get by. “Maria is here.”
“Can you bring her down?”
Alex stepped aside as a soldier came to remove the weapons from the weapon safe. He picked up five handguns and walked up the stairs. Another soldier picked up two rifles in each hand and went up the stairs.
Maria and Max pushed past the soldiers. Maria Abreu’s eyes were luminous at the wreckage. She held Max’s elbow as he helped her down the stairs. Seeing Alex, Maria ran the remaining stairs. Max raised a hand to Alex before returning to pack the truck.
Speaking in a flood of Spanish, Maria clutched Alex to her. Hearing Jesse Jr. scream, they turned to see him chase Zack’s oldest son, Teddy, in a game of freeze tag. The boys screamed and laughed at the same time.
“I need a huge favor,” Alex said in Spanish.
“Anything,” Maria said, continuing in Spanish.
“Jesse told me that you have a special secret place where you keep important things.”
Alex pulled the address book from her back pocket. Her eyes held Raz’s for a moment, before turning back to Maria.
“Would you put this in that place?”
“Of course,” Maria said. “I will keep it until you ask for it. Does this put us at risk?”
“No one knows that this book exists, except for Mr. Rasmussen here.”
Maria looked over at Raz. He winked at her.
“He’s very cute. Can he be trusted, Alexandra?”
Alex turned to look at him. Raz opened his mouth to say something then laughed.
“I hope so,” Alex replied.
“I will take care of this for you.”
Alex hugged Maria and kissed her cheek.
“We need to talk about the President’s circus next month,” Maria said. “I would invite you to lunch, but my boss is in town.”
Alex laughed. Out of kindness, when Jesse died, Patrick had given Maria a receptionist position in his office. Within six months, she had reorganized his office and his life. Patrick called her his “life manager,” swearing he could not survive without her.
“I have an in with the boss man,” Alex said.
“Let’s have lunch, then,” Maria said.
Alex walked Maria up the stairs. Standing in the night air, Alex’s eyes followed the activity. Children chased each other in delight. A group of five or six soldiers drank beer and laughed. A soldier moved past her to remove the last of the weapons. John, sitting in the green overstuffed chair, laughed at Zack. Troy and Colin argued over the Henry rifle. Matthew tried to make space for the last of the boxes and the armoire inside the truck. And this woman, Jesse’s soul mate, stood beside her.
“This is crazier than that New Year’s Day party you have,” Maria said.
“Had.”
Maria laughed. “I don’t believe for one minute that you won’t have that crazy party this year.” She kissed Alex’s cheek. “I’m going to take care of this.”
“Thanks, Maria.”
Alex watched Maria thread her way through the chaos and call to Jesse Jr. and Gabriella. The children ran to their mother. Pleading and begging, Jesse Jr. and Gabriella worked on Maria until she relented. All five children cheered. After a quick conversation with Zack, the children scooted into Maria’s car. They waved to Alex when they drove by.
Alex jogged back to the office to find Raz closing the last box. He gave the box to the soldier, checking to make sure the gun locker was empty. Zack, Max, and John came to get the armoire. With care, the four men carried the oak furniture to the truck.
Alex stood in the office by herself. She touched one spot, then the next. She looked into the map cubbyholes. She touched the broken gas fireplace. Closing the empty weapons vault, she removed the antique map that hung over its opening. She bent down to pick up a shred of paper that she crumpled and stuffed into her pocket.
“Sir, the engineer says that the building is coming down. Now. You need to get out of here.”
Alex turned to her Sergeant. She gave a slight nod. Looking at the walls that had been her sanctuary for almost two years, she didn’t notice John when he entered the space. He touched her shoulder and pulled her to him. They held each other in the crumbling office.
“Sir, that crack wasn’t there a minute ago,” her Sergeant said.
“Yes,” Alex said. “We’ll follow you.”
The Sergeant ran up the stairs, with Alex and John close on his heels. They reached the last step when the basement fell into itself. The Sergeant jumped forward to avoid being pulled into the basement. Alex threw the antique map onto the grass and lunged for solid ground. John and Alex slid backward into the basement. Soldiers grabbed at their arms and legs to keep them on solid ground.
With a deafening noise, the earth swallowed what was left of the house.
F
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