Dead Promise

by Linda Wells

  “I don’t know,” said Mark. “Maybe it has something to do with why she survived a point-blank shot to the head.”

  “Or maybe the black material is a lead to the shooter,” said George.

  54

  He was stupid to follow the Mustang, but he wanted to take care of unfinished business. And he was spotted.

  “Careless and fucking stupid,” he said aloud.

  He barely got away from the tail. He’d been fortunate to be near an exit ramp and had managed to cross two lanes of traffic to escape being followed. He’d lie low for a while—but not for too long—change to a lower-profile vehicle, and make another attempt.

  Where were they going with the colonel? They were heading north toward Bethesda. If they were going to interrogate him, it wouldn’t be in Bethesda. Maybe he was ill, and they were taking him to Walter Reed. But if he was that sick, why not move him in an ambulance? Maybe he was all freaked out over his buddy getting hit. No way. He wasn’t the freak-out type. He was the kick-ass type, unless he was getting shot point-blank. He might get freaky then. Hmm…Bethesda. He’d have to think about that. Later.

  It had taken less time than he had expected to get to BWI. He pulled into the rental-car-return lane and got out of the car as the guy checked the mileage, scanned the bar code, and handed him the return receipt. Keeping his shades on, he signed the paperwork using his current alias, threw the black nylon bag over his shoulder, and headed toward the waiting area for the airport bus.

  He saw the bus at the light, about a quarter of a mile away. He’d be glad to get out of the heat.

  “Sir,” a voice called out to him.

  “Yeah?” He turned around. It was the guy from the rental-car agency.

  “You know the airport’s closed. No flights in or out. All the airports are shut down,” the guy said.

  “Yes, I know. I heard it on the radio,” he said. “My sister’s coming to pick me up. She said I didn’t need the rental car since everyone is supposed to stay inside.”

  “Yeah, a bummer. I don’t know how long this quarantine thing’s gonna last,” said the rental car agent, walking toward him. “But it’s scarin’ the hell out of me.”

  “Me, too, man,” he said. “Scary shit going down.” He kept looking away, toward the approaching bus. But this guy wanted to chat. Too bad.

  “Well, good luck,” the agent called out to the back of his head.

  He climbed on the empty bus, keeping his face down. He didn’t want to be noticed any more than necessary. He just wanted to finish the job. He wanted all of this to be a memory. It was turning into a bad one. And he was beginning to get edgy. He knew that people got stupid when they were edgy. He had to stay cool, get this done, and disappear. He sat on one of the side-facing seats, halfway down on the left. The driver asked which airline.

  “Just drop me off on the upper level. Southwest. I’m meeting someone,” he said.

  “I guess a lot of people are stranded,” said the driver.

  “Yeah, for sure,” he replied.

  But he couldn’t concentrate. Why did he keep thinking of Bethesda? What was in Bethesda?

  “Jesus Christ!” he said. “No way in hell!”

  The driver turned to look at him. “You OK?” he asked.

  “Yeah, fine,” he said, too engrossed in his thoughts to care.

  “Guess we’re all edgy with this flu bug killing people. I’m glad they shut down the airport. I don’t need to get that shit,” the driver said, looking back in the rearview.

  But he wasn’t listening. He looked out the window, trying to keep his face out of sight. He wanted to get off this bus fast. He felt the walls closing in. His breathing was rapid, and he bent over, holding his head between his hands so hard that it was hurting. He wanted to pound his skull. But he couldn’t. He took deep, slow breaths until the bus stopped. He was starting to think clearly. Maybe it was a lure, just to draw him out. That would explain the tail. What a masterful plan. And he remembered the hit. It had been clean. But maybe not. He wanted to stop the racing thoughts, but he couldn’t. He’d fucked up with the colonel, but he knew he’d gotten the bitch. Or had he?

  “Here’s your stop, buddy,” the driver said, staring at his lone passenger.

  “Thanks, man,” he said, turning his face away from the driver as he stepped off the bus into the cool shade of the terminal.

  He had to find out. Fast. But how? He’d get the rental car first.

  “Calm down,” he kept telling himself.

  He looked around and saw signs for another rental-car agency. He started walking. He’d catch the van, get the car, and start driving. He couldn’t take a chance on getting into Bethesda. He had to stay in the shadows. Was it worth the risk? His gut always told him the answer. It was a no-brainer.

  He knew what he had to do. His breathing was slowing. He always had a plan B. It was time to execute it. He didn’t want to do it, but he had to. While waiting, he pulled out his burner phone. It only took a minute to find the number. He was on hold for what seemed like forever, and then he heard the ring and a female voice.

  “Toronto Executive Jet Service. How may I help you today?” she asked pleasantly.

  “Yes, thank you. I want to make a reservation, please,” he said, pulling out his wallet.

  After a few minutes, he took a deep breath.

  “I’ll pick it up at the airport,” he said. He hung up just as the van pulled to the curb.

  He climbed on board, along with several others who had been waiting. He looked at his watch. He should make it with time to spare. He’d gotten rid of the weapon and any evidence that could link him to the shootings. He’d become expert at cleanup. As long as he could get across the border. With his Canadian passport, it should be easy. He knew when it was time to disappear. At least for now. And he didn’t want to catch this shit, either. His plan would work.

  55

  Max was waiting for Suzy to regain full consciousness before asking her too many questions. He was concerned about her, even though he’d been told she would recover. But he had to know what had gone down. There had to be a reason for what she did. There had to be more for her to have done this. Nothing was clear. The agents didn’t know what had happened, or they wouldn’t be relying on him to pump her for information. That’s what they wanted. And they wanted the Director. They were aware of his feelings for her and of the relationship that he and Suzy had had before all of this happened. It was all in the NCS report. They knew about her sister, the probable motive, the driving force behind Suzy’s actions. What would be the limits of anyone’s actions to save a sister or a family member? He kept asking himself that question, but he knew what his answer would be. The resonating voice inside him kept telling him to talk to her, but not quite yet.

  He just wanted to be close to her. He loved her so much. The minute he saw her, vulnerable, wounded, he had known that her heart had to be as broken as his. He’d heard it in her voice the last time they’d spoken. She’d wanted to see him, to talk to him, to tell him something. Something big. She had sounded desperate.

  Suzy kept drifting back to sleep, but Max couldn’t stop staring at her. She was beautiful, even with the dark bruises on her face and neck. She had taken a hard hit. He felt her hand move inside his, holding on to him more tightly. She took a deep breath and moved her head, gazing toward him.

  “Oh, Max, what are you doing here?” she asked.

  He was shocked to hear her voice, familiar and soft. But she spoke with effort, in pain.

  “Suzy, only talk if you feel like you can,” he said.

  “Yes, I need to talk to you,” she whispered.

  He leaned toward her.

  “God, Suzy, what the hell happened?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she cried, tears pooling in her eyes. “I remember driving home to meet you; all I could think of was you. And the rest is a blur.”

  “Suzy, you were shot, someone in your garage,” he said. “Don’t you remember?”


  “No, I don’t remember anything. Just my head. It hurts,” she said.

  “You have a concussion, and the doctor removed the bullet,” he said. “You’re going to be fine.” He tried to be reassuring. “We talked on the phone while you were still at Edgewood, and you wanted to tell me something important, so I drove to your condo to meet you,” he said. “But when I got there, they told me you were dead.” His voice choked up.

  “Oh my God, Max,” she said. “I guess they want me dead, too.”

  The realization finally hit her. Why had she ever believed the Director? And where was her sister?

  “And he said he was going to kill you,” said Suzy, and the tears weren’t stopping.

  A distinguished-looking man in a white lab coat and tie entered the room. He stopped to talk to one of the nurses. They both looked at Max, and Max stood up. The man in the lab coat approached the bed, standing on the opposite side from Max.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, grasping her wrist to check her pulse.

  He said to Max, not looking at him, “I’m Dr. Ahmed.” He pulled a slender flashlight from his coat pocket and asked Suzy to look toward the light.

  She tried to focus through her tears.

  “You don’t seem to be feeling well,” he said.

  “It’s just the headache,” she said, looking downward, as he placed the flashlight back in his pocket.

  “Your nurses say you’re doing better,” he said. “I’m happy you’re recovering so well, in spite of the headache.”

  “Thank you,” she said, seeming truly grateful.

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “Would you like your guest to leave, or do you like the company?” he asked.

  She looked frightened, not wanting Max to leave.

  “Can he stay, please?” she asked.

  “Of course, but you need your rest,” said Dr. Ahmed. “He can stay, but only if you try to get more sleep. I’ll have one of the nurses get something to help with your headache.”

  She didn’t answer, but she smiled at the doctor, her tears drying on her face.

  “May I speak with you, Colonel?” asked the doctor, as he walked away from the bed.

  Max leaned down and whispered, “I’ll be back, Suzy. I won’t leave you.”

  He followed the doctor to the window, far enough that Suzy couldn’t overhear.

  “I assume she knows you,” said Ahmed.

  “Yes, she knows me. How is she?” he asked, concerned.

  “She’ll recover from her wound. The bullet grazed her skull, no penetration,” he said. “But it was a hard blow. Concussive. Has she told you anything?”

  “No, nothing,” said Max. “Except that she was driving home to meet me. Nothing after that.”

  “Take it easy, all right?” Dr. Ahmed said. “It’s better to let her talk if she wants to. She may have partial amnesia. Time must pass before we know the extent of her injury.”

  Max said, “Yes, I understand.”

  “You’re staying?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dr. Ahmed said, “Let us know if you need anything. I’ll be back later to check on her.” And he added, “I think you need some rest, too.”

  He left Max standing at the window.

  56

  Max walked back to Suzy’s bed and stood next to her. She was awake, and she looked into his eyes.

  “Suzy, do you feel well enough to talk to me?” he asked, reaching for her hand.

  “Yes, I want to talk to you, Max,” said Suzy, her eyes filled with tears. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Who said he was going to kill me?” Max asked.

  “And my sister, Lee.” She sobbed.

  “Suzy, tell me who threatened you,” he said quietly.

  “The Director,” she said.

  “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know his name. All I know is what he told me.”

  He knew she was telling the truth.

  “Suzy, why didn’t you come to me?” pleaded Max. “You know I would have stopped him. No way could he have touched you, me, or your sister. I wouldn’t have let it happen. Why didn’t you trust me? I’m the fucking real deal, and you know it.” He kept going. “Why didn’t you tell me? Were you that afraid?”

  “Yes. You don’t understand,” she said quietly. “I was afraid of what you’d do if you found out.”

  ‘You know I would have helped you. I love you, Suzy. I’m on your side in this thing. I could have helped you out of this mess,” he said.

  “I was afraid. Don’t you understand?”

  “Yes.” Max squeezed her hand. “And he almost killed you, too,” he said. “Jesus, Suzy.” He had tears in his eyes.

  He wanted to hold her, kiss her mouth, and make all of this go away, for both of them. Thank God she was alive.

  He was trying to be gentle, but he didn’t understand why she couldn’t have told him. He wanted to understand everything. They had their future, their life together, and he had the power to stop this Director. He was missing something. How could this bastard Director have controlled her to this extent? They had shared everything. And not this?

  “Don’t you remember your promise to me? You said you’d marry me.” He stood up. “Don’t you get what that meant? We shared everything together and belong to each other. What more could I have done?”

  “Max, don’t you understand that you’re the reason I couldn’t tell you? He was going to kill you, and I know he would have. Can’t you understand?” she asked. “You’re all that matters. He threatened me, said he’d kill you, my sister, my family. I didn’t want to do what he wanted,” she whispered. “I never wanted to go through with his demands.”

  Suzy winced with pain as her voice trailed off. Captain Washington came to the bedside, handed her a pill and a cup of water. He looked at Max as she swallowed the pain medication.

  “I think she’s had enough,” he said.

  “Not yet,” said Max.

  She was talking now, and he was going to get as much out of her as he could. And he knew there was more. He wanted the answers, for himself. He needed to understand how someone he loved could also be a complete stranger.

  “OK, but you’re leaving when I say you leave,” said the nurse.

  Max ignored him, and Elliott stepped away from the bed.

  “Who is this Director, Suzy, and how did you meet him?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Max. It’s all a blur,” she said.

  “Just take it slow; only tell me what you want to,” he said gently. He was pushing too hard, but he needed answers. “He called you?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’d just started my senior year. I was living off campus. I came home from class one day and found a manila envelope by the front door. No return address.” Her words came slowly. “I never thought anything of it. I threw it on the kitchen table. But later, I opened it…”

  “What, Suzy?” he asked.

  She could only whisper. “Two photos…of the same girl…I thought it was a prank. Because both girls…they looked exactly like me.” Her face was frozen.

  Max remembered the photos. He’d found them in her desk drawer. And he’d taken them to Greg. God, he couldn’t believe Greg was gone now.

  He felt her hand tighten in his. She was crying, her body trembling.

  The nurse came over and put his hand on Max’s shoulder. Max shook him off.

  “I need a few more minutes,” Max said.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned down. As gently as he could, he pulled her close to him. She couldn’t lift her arms, but she leaned into him, her forehead on his shoulder, and he felt her warmth and love pressing against him. He knew at this moment he could never let go.

  57

  His little beauty was still asleep when he brought in the silver tray with tea, scones, and the newspaper. He shut the door quietly, not to disturb her, and carried the tray to the bistro table by the window. He settled into the plush boudoir
chair. He dropped two sugar cubes into the aromatic tea and began to stir, opening the London Times. The headlines jumped out at him: “Two Admitted with Possible Deadly Virus.”

  “Jesus Christ!” he said.

  His hand was shaking as he threw the newspaper onto the tray, hot tea dribbling down the front of his silk robe. He strode over to the flat-screen television, grabbed the remote, clicked the on button, and waited for the screen to light up. He sat at the end of the bed and punched channels until he found the BBC station. A breaking news alert was running at the top of the screen. A pretty, dark-haired reporter whom he recognized was standing in front of MI6. He was trying very hard to concentrate on what she was saying.

  “Two patients have been admitted to an unnamed central London hospital. The hospital spokesman has released a statement, saying that two passengers, who arrived yesterday from the United States, have been admitted with severe symptoms that might indicate possible viral infections. Both were from New York City, where a recent terrorist attack occurred. The unknown suspect, still at large, released a deadly form of the H5N1 virus on a metro station platform in the downtown area. The virus has begun to spread, affecting many in New York City. Several other cities in the United States are reporting cases of the dangerous avian flu. The passengers here in London have been tested for the avian flu virus, H5N1, but nothing conclusive has been determined. Both are being quarantined until the extent of their infection and its identity has become known.

  “The authorities are asking all Londoners to remain calm, and after further information has been gathered, the public will be notified. This is Amy Jenkins, reporting live from London.”

  He turned off the television and walked back to the table. He had to think. Perhaps this was nothing. He shouldn’t panic.

  “Sweetheart, I could use some tea,” she said, her voice soft and sexy.

  His playmate was awake, and he knew she didn’t want just the tea. But he couldn’t think of sex right now. He hadn’t considered the possibility that this thing could come to London. The United States had the CDC and every agency in the country working on containing the virus. They weren’t stupid. He had known a glitch was possible, but not this. His planning had been thorough, and he’d discussed this possibility with Chen. She’d assured him that it would not spread outside the United States, probably would affect only several large cities, mostly New York City. She had been wrong about a lot of things she’d told him about the H5N1. But they both knew only what their Chinese contacts had told them. He should have known not to trust them.