“I suppose,” I said. It hurt too much to talk about them, and I knew he had more to say.
“I always saw life in this country as limitless. As I got older, I started seeing it differently. What they portrayed in movies and on TV, was much more fantasy than it was reality. The media plants the idea in your mind that you can only be happy if you have it all. A big house, a nice car, and a happy family—the American Dream.”
I stayed quiet.
“I wanted to be a director growing up. My Dad would take me and my sister to the movies every Sunday after church. That is still my fondest childhood memory. I had a plan. I was going to move out west to Los Angeles and work in the production world. That was until my mother got sick. She was diagnosed in 2000 with Leukemia. My dad had insurance through his job at the factory, but it wasn’t enough. The cancer bills began to pile up. My mom lost her job at the bank, and the lack of income put a lot of stress on our household. My sister was sixteen, and she worked at a grocery store to help with the bills. I was nineteen at the time, and although I wanted to move out west, I had an obligation to my family. She received treatment off and on for three years, and once she was cured, luckily, it never returned. My dad never told me the exact amount, but I knew he had accumulated at least a hundred thousand dollars of debt from the hospital bills. They would be paying that off for the rest of their lives. Prisoners to their debt.”
“That is half of the reason I support the Convergence Party,” I said.
“Exactly,” he huffed. “I thought this is the land of the free? Sure, my life in Russia would have been dismal compared to here, but I never understood that many of these freedoms came with a price tag. Without me knowing it, the cycle began to repeat. I didn’t go to college, and in 2005 I took a job at the Port of New York operating a forklift. I stayed in Brooklyn to help my parents with the bills and so did my sister. That’s another thing I never understood about Americans.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Their lack of family bonds. My parents would come home from work, and we would all eat dinner together every night at the table. My parents told us stories of how some of their work friends talked about their own parents. Saying that they ‘found their mom or dad a nice home’. That is unheard of in Russia, and you would be looked down upon for doing such a thing. Family is everything where my parents come from. As I worked at the Port, I began to see why this was so common in the States. You must sacrifice something. Here, it is either your time or your money. You can’t have both. You must choose one.”
I snorted and nodded my head in agreement. What he was saying was so true. I couldn’t have said it better myself.
“Americans can’t sacrifice their time because it takes time to make money. So, they spend their money to have someone else take care of their parents because it saves them time. It’s all a chain-reaction.”
“The Latino people are the same. Familia is everything.”
He turned to me, smiling. “I’m glad you understand.”
“I do,” I nodded.
“Have you ever seen The Green Mile?”
My eyebrows furrowed from his question.
“Yes, I have. Why?”
“My dad and I saw it alone when it first came out in 1999. It was around six months before my mom was diagnosed when I still had hopes of moving to LA. It was the first movie I really, truly cried in. I thought about it for weeks after. It moved me emotionally, and I was inspired. I wanted to make films like that, films that touch people. Before I knew it though, I was a slave to my paycheck. I did what I felt was right as a man and that was to take care of my family.”
“It was an honorable decision,” I encouraged him.
“I’d like to think so…” He mumbled. “You know, the irony of my situation is that it’s similar to The Green Mile. In the blink of an eye, I was accused of something I didn’t do. My bosses turned on me, my coworkers turned on me, and I hadn’t a clue what to do next. I worked my ass off for ten years, working my way up to the head Radiograph X-Ray Operator, and that was how I was repaid for all my effort? I had just started dating Natasha in the months before I was framed. She had a degree in software design at NYU, and she helped me get out of New York without getting caught.”
I bit my lower lip, and my eyes welled up. The similarities between Viktor’s and Owen’s stories caused me to become emotional. Natasha helped Viktor get out of New York. I helped Owen get out of Raleigh. Viktor took notice and turned to me.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. I—I’m fine,” I assured him.
“I abandoned my family, Rachel. Sometimes, I feel guilty for leaving…but I didn’t have a choice. If I stayed, I would have been caught.”
“You shouldn’t feel guilty,” I said.
“I don’t,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Not anymore. Now, all I feel is anger.”
He turned to me, looking deep into my eyes as he emphasized the word.
“I know I told you the other night, but I still remember when she first came into my work, right before the New Year. She slithered around the Port like the snake she is with her clipboard, writing down notes. The clacking of her heels always signaled her entrance, and the sound of them gave me chills. When she shook my hand, it felt like ice. I had never met someone that gave me such a cold feeling inside my body, and her face still haunts me. The face of the woman who ruined my life, who took Owen’s life…”
My nostrils flared from him mentioning that. I felt the anger he spoke of. The agony I felt inside was, for a moment—gone. The anger was almost soothing. Viktor’s jaw muscles flexed again, and he stared back out at Downtown Atlanta, letting out a long sigh.
“Being on the run for two years wears you down,” he announced. “It makes you exhausted to the point where sleep no longer helps. I’m tired of running, Rachel.”
I turned to him, curious to what he was getting at. My eyebrows quirked.
“There’s nothing to run from anymore,” he began. “The feds left Atlanta days ago. Yes, we are still wanted, but because of what happened to Owen, we are out of the spotlight.”
I trembled just hearing the words ‘what happened to Owen.’
“Grey told me you had an idea,” I blurted.
He stared at me blank-faced, and his lips pressed into a hard line.
“I know I just met you, but I am no dummy. I can tell you loved Owen.”
Loved…
I choked on a cry just from hearing the word. It wasn’t in the past tense in my mind. Not one bit.
“I still do,” I corrected him and wiped the tears from my eyes.
“Like I said, I am tired of running. I am sure you are too. My idea would take us back to where this all began, in Washington. Where the criminals who created this lie are still roaming free. There is one person behind all of this, and she ruined my life and took Owen’s and your mother’s.”
“Veronica…” I shivered from a passing breeze as I said her name.
He nodded.
“I have watched her destroy enough in the past two years, and I am finished with running. I want to bring the battle to her, where she has no way to run, and nowhere to hide.”
“Are you suggesting?”
A fire burned behind his eyes.
“Yes,” he said. “We are going to kill her.”
My initial reaction was shocked, but it was only for a fraction of a second. Hearing his idea caused that anger to bubble up within me again, with pain and resentment fanning the flames inside of me.
“You and I both know the importance of family,” he began, “and she stole yours from you.”
My breathing grew heavy, and my pulse began to quicken.
“Rachel, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see her taken down. I’ve fantasized about it since Black Monday, but in light of what happened, I thought I’d let you do the honors.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Trust me, I would love to do it myself.”
�
�I am going to kill Veronica Hall.”
Hearing myself say it out loud made it sound that much more appealing.
“Yes. We have nothing to lose. We have all the information we need to take her down, but you know what? I say we take matters into our own hands. If Owen didn’t get a trial, neither does she. They say an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. I’ve tried to live my life by that philosophy, but our situation is different.”
“How so?” I asked.
“Veronica has taken everyone’s eyes, and now they can’t see. If we take hers, perhaps we can restore the country’s vision. People’s memory of Owen will fade, and they will forget about him. We need to make people remember why all of this happened, and we will time it perfectly before you write your article.”
A smile slid over my face, and for the first time in days I didn’t feel hopeless.
“Let’s do it.”
I stared down at the copy of tomorrow’s paper I had to sign for approval. The government would shut us down if I would have just let the journalists blatantly assert that Owen was innocent, so I had taken the only possible route. We were weighing in both sides, trying our best to remain neutral. I couldn’t risk being able to publish Rachel’s article when she hadn’t written it yet.
The past few days had been really rough. I visited Emilio’s grave twice. I needed to get some stuff off my chest and to ask him to watch over his daughter now that her mother was gone. I had planned on making arrangements to attend Marta’s funeral, but given that Rachel was still out there somewhere, I figured I would wait until I heard from her to book my flight.
There was a week and a half until the election. We were running out of time.
I saw the button for my assistant’s line flash red. I picked it up.
“Yes, Sharon?”
“There’s a call waiting for you on your secure line,” she said.
My heart fluttered in my chest. It was her.
“Send it through.”
I walked over to a small table where a separate phone sat. This was the secure line my IT guys rigged. I picked it up.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hey, Ian. It’s me.”
Her voice wasn’t nearly as brittle as I expected it to be. It almost sounded rejuvenated.
“I’m so sorry, Rachel…I have no words.”
I heard her whimper, as if she was about to cry, and it was followed by a sharp inhale. She steadied her breath.
“I know. I have done a lot of crying.”
“I could imagine. I have too, you know. Just know I love you, and my wife and I will always be here for you.”
“Thank you, Ian. You mean the world to me,” she said, pausing to take a deep breath. “I am actually surprised I am calling you this soon.”
“I am too.”
“Owen’s…good friend helped me regain my strength. Before what happened, Owen made me promise to write my story no matter what. I have all the information you need.”
“Then fax it to me,” I said.
There was silence.
“Rachel?” I checked to see if she was still there.
“It’s not that simple anymore. I need to settle the score with someone. She is responsible for all of this.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Veronica Hall.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not kidding. The same person who provided this massive piece of the puzzle knows everything, and she is the one behind it. Behind Owen’s death and my mother’s. If we don’t keep what happened to Owen in the spotlight, she will be behind the death of this country. She needs to be stopped.”
There was zero sadness in her voice, only determination. She needs to be stopped. I pieced together what she was trying to tell me, and once it hit, I was shocked.
“You aren’t suggesting—”
“Yes,” she cut me off, “and that’s why I need your help.”
“How could I even begin to help you with that?” I asked, raising my voice.
“Ian, you know people—powerful people. The last time we spoke, if I remember correctly, you said you found two pieces of the puzzle. One was Stefan’s, and the other?”
Lucas.
“It was from a veteran, one that we interviewed years ago when he returned from the Middle East. He faxed me some very sensitive material. He works for the CIA.”
“Ian,” Rachel gasped. “That’s it. That’s the kind of person I need.”
I was becoming overwhelmed with everything she was throwing at me. I had lost Emilio, and I wasn’t going to sit back and watch her put herself in harm’s way.
“Rachel, you realize what could happen to you if you go through with what you’re thinking? You could wind up just like Owen.”
It pained me to make that parallel over the phone, when I knew she was so hurt.
“I have nothing left to lose,” she said flatly. “I have lost it all, Ian. I can’t just turn the other cheek this time. If they win, then my mom’s and Owen’s deaths meant nothing. They will just be another victim in this sick, sick game…”
I paused, pondering her statement. The conviction in her tone was overflowing, and it was so apparent to me, being someone that watched her grow up. These past two weeks had transformed her as a person.
“I need the help of that person, Ian. He will help us do what we need to do, and we will time it just before you publish my article. The shock value will remind people to question what is really going on. What is his name?”
“Lucas,” I answered. “But what if he doesn’t want to help?”
She let out a trembling exhale, and I could almost feel her anger.
“If he even knows a smidgen of what I do about Veronica Hall, then he would be more than willing.”
I felt defeated. So defeated, that I took a week of sick pay just to buy myself more time. I told myself I wouldn’t go back to work ever again, and I didn’t want to, but I also wanted to keep out of Veronica’s radar. If I didn’t show up for work, that might cause her to become suspicious of my whereabouts.
Watching Owen die on national television crushed me. It quite literally deflated my morale and left my soul aching. I knew it was her, and when I heard about what happened to Rachel’s mother, I was even more disgusted. Oh, the things I wished I could do to that woman.
It had been six days since I faxed Mr. Westlake my files. Why hadn’t I read an article about it yet? I was helpless. I had no desire to go back and work for those traitors, but I couldn’t wait forever. You couldn’t just quit the CIA. It didn’t work like that. My level of clearance was one of the highest that existed. Either Veronica went down, or I would be forced to return to work.
My week off would be over the day after tomorrow. I wondered if anything had changed since I’d been gone. Perhaps, I wouldn’t have to see her any longer. Would things go back to normal? That was impossible. With her in control and Owen dead, things could only get worse from here…and that was what I was most afraid of.
The kids were in school. Today was my fifth day straight of binge-watching Game of Thrones. I felt useless sitting around not working, but it was a nice change to be home for dinner with the family. During the chase for Owen, I wasn’t home for days at a time. My wife was happy that my schedule would go back to the way it was before he went on the run.
My wife rounded the corner from the kitchen.
“Honey, that pre-paid phone you bought is ringing,” she said as she scurried over to hand it to me. I glanced at the number. It was a 212 area code—Manhattan.
I picked it up.
“Hello,” I answered nervously.
“Lucas,” the familiar voice said. “It’s Ian. Is this line secure?”
“Uh…yes, hold on a moment. Let me take a walk down the street, just in case.”
I never could be too sure given my profession. They could have had my entire house tapped for all I knew.
“Luc, is everything okay, hon?” my wife asked from behind me as
I walked out the door. I kept my elbows pressed to my sides because it was chilly out with a persistent breeze.
“Can you talk now?” Ian asked.
“Yes. I am glad you called.”
“We’ll see how glad you are after you find out why I called.”
My forehead scrunched up.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll explain everything, I just need to ask you a few things. When was the last time you’ve been to work?”
“Since the day before I sent you the files.”
He choked on his breath.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not kidding,” I said flatly.
“Did you quit or something?!” Panic made his voice jump around.
“I took a week of paid sick leave. Ian, why is any of this relevant?”
“Oh, thank God…” He gasped. “That would have been bad.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” I pressed.
There was silence.
“Ian?”
“So, I’m assuming you saw everything that happened in Atlanta.”
“Yes, of course I did. I recorded the whole thing.”
“Good,” he said. “Lucas, I have to ask you an extremely important question that I have a feeling you already know the answer to…”
My eyes squinted from his wording.
“Shoot.”
“What do you know about Veronica Hall?”
I thought my head was going to explode. I quickly scanned my surroundings to make sure there were no government cars parked nearby. I knew what to look for.
“Ian, are you sure your line is secure? Secure in civilian talk and secure in my line of work are two entirely different things.”
“He’s the best guy I know. It’s not like it matters anymore. You risked that when you sent the files.”
He was right. If the CIA found out even the smallest portion of what I had done, I would be dead meat. I could wind up in some freak car accident or in prison for the rest of my life. I took in a deep breath to suppress my anger before I spoke.
“Let’s just put it this way. The things she has done are so vile, that every single move I have made in regards to the information I gave you were to take her down. If you read through that file, just know that she was behind all of it. If we want to salvage what is left of this country, her power has to be dissolved. She has to go.”
The Gambit Page 43