They headed down the elevator and entered the underground parking garage, where Blake was shown into the back of a limo. As they left the building, Blake didn’t utter a word to Charlie, who sat across from him whistling a Christmas song.
He’s really making me do it, Blake thought as he stared wide-eyed out the window at the festive decorations in the storefronts. It was snowing, and everyone was full of smiles and laughter.
Everyone save for Blake, who was going to kill his father.
Chapter Fourteen
They were waiting around the corner from Echo Park. The engine was off, and the doors were closed. The last thing they needed was the dome light to flicker on and have them sitting under it like a spotlight. After all, this was their getaway vehicle.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay here?” Val asked Jackie.
“I’ll be fine.” She’d been coming out of her slump and starting to focus on the job at hand. She was a vital part of the crew, and they knew it—whether that be for shooting, driving, or simply offering a shoulder to cry on.
Val gave her a firm pat on the arm and climbed out of the van. A group of guys in their late teens passed him, bottles of beer held indiscreetly in their hands. It reminded him again that it was Christmas Eve, and that he should be with his family. They all should be.
“Good luck,” Jackie said from the open window.
Leaning in, Val looked deep into her eyes. It was to let her know that he was being completely serious. “If anything goes wrong—if anything seems out of the ordinary—you get out of here. You understand?”
Jackie looked at him thoughtfully and nodded.
Val crossed the road to the gates of Echo Park, admiring the bulbs interwoven with the tree branches. There must have been thousands of them, red, white and blue. The colors of the flag, Val thought. Or are you just being ironic?
As he continued down the east side of the park where the cold air breathed across the lake and onto his wrinkled cheeks, he looked up at the Ralph Lauren building. If all had gone according to plan, Robbie would now be up on the roof with a sniper rifle, a steady hand, and a keen eye. They’d dropped him on the corner only a few minutes ago, giving him time to get into position. The rule was that he wouldn’t fire a shot unless someone else did. But if he did happen to spot any of the Agency’s snipers, he was to take them down immediately. Now, as Val looked around at the carol singers in the park, he was glad that he’d made the right decision. He didn’t want anyone getting hurt.
Val stormed through the gate, his nerves all fired up. He could feel something unsettled within him, like bingo balls rolling around inside a cage as the crank was rotated. It’d been weeks since he’d seen Blake, and he didn’t know if he would even show (the agent he’d spoken to on the phone had said he would, but who was to say they wouldn’t just send an agent to kill him?). It was a risky move, and Val had understood that, but if he wanted results, he would have to earn them.
Finally he found a bench overlooking the lake. There was a tree clouding above it, its thick, brown branches providing adequate cover for them both. It was enough to cause a problem for anyone who might be looking at them from an elevated position. Val sat down, the cold wood pressing against his clothes and shooting right through to his skin.
Patiently, he waited for his son.
Every time there was the patter of footsteps, his head automatically turned to see who it was. It was then he realized just how nervous he was.
There was the sound of feet shuffling to his left, and Val turned to see it. It was a young couple, perhaps in their mid-twenties. The woman was giggling and leaning into her man’s arm. The man looked just like Blake had looked when he was a late teenager.
“Shall we make it painless?” somebody said from his right.
Val turned to the source of the voice and saw Blake above him, taller than he’d seemed before. He was dressed head-to-toe in black, and his hair was gelled back. It was an Agency requirement for field assignments, Val remembered. Ever since one sniper had returned from a mission and claimed he’d missed a shot because his hair had fallen over his eyes at the wrong moment (it was a lie, of course—he’d simply become less accurate over the years) the rule had been this: either no hair or brushed back.
“I expected nothing less than painless, son.”
“Don’t call me that,” Blake said.
Val could see Blake’s legs were shaking. It could have been the temperature, but he thought he understood this man at least a little, and he was out of his element. Fear was causing this.
Blake held out his hand. “Give me your earpiece.”
Val looked him up and down. Something was different about him—something other than the clothes and hair gel. He seemed more stern, serious. A little in control. Then again, he didn’t know that Robbie was on the roof with a sniper rifle aimed at his back. “I’m not wearing one.”
Blake stepped forward and grabbed Val’s head, forcing it to the left and then the right, checking to make sure he’d been telling the truth. “All right.” He sat down on the bench, and they both kept their eyes forward, looking across the water of the lake.
“Thanks for coming,” Val said in a bad attempt to break the ice.
“I had to. They want me to kill you.”
Val nodded. He understood.
There was a momentary pause, during which neither of them exchanged a word, and then Blake finally spoke again. “Did you hear about Rachel?”
“What about her?” Val wanted to turn his head, but this had to look natural. Over the years, he’d learned that no movement was the best way to go unnoticed.
“She’s dead.”
Val felt his heart begin to race. He suddenly pictured Jackie’s disappointment. “No.”
“Yeah. Greg too,” Blake said.
“That, I knew.”
“What happened? All those years ago. Charlie told me you killed Mom. He said there was never any cancer. I think I believe him. Everything adds up, but now he won’t let me read the files.”
“Son—”
“Please.” Blake sniffed, though it might have just been due to a running nose.
“It’s not what you think it is. Just leave it alone.” Val didn’t want to think about his first wife right now, but he couldn’t help it. It was like a floodgate had opened, and all the memories of that beautiful woman came falling through. And how she’d died… He’d met Marcy only a few months later, and she’d helped him understand that it wasn’t his fault.
“Evasive as ever, I see. So,” Blake rolled his tongue, making a clicking sound, “where do you suppose we go from here? I mean if I don’t kill you, there are plenty of snipers who will take you down. Perhaps even both of us.”
“You do what you need to do, son. No point in us both dying.” Val nodded down at Blake’s coat. “You got a gun tucked under there?”
“I do.”
“Hmm.” Val wished he had more time to explore his options. Instead, he was forced into asking what he’d come there to ask. “Why don’t you just come with us? We have a plan that may work for all of us.” Val would have killed to have his son back with them, but he knew that as soon as they tried to move, the Agency’s snipers would make quick work of them. He wondered how Robbie was doing up on the roof.
“I just can’t.” Blake lowered his head.
“Then it’s lucky we have you on the inside, I suppose.” Val stood, adjusting his coat.
Blake shot to his feet. “Dad. Don’t.”
“Are you going to shoot me? Because if you are, you’d better hurry up and do it. In a few seconds, I’m going to walk away. You just do whatever it is you need to do.” He looked up, making sure the branches were still blocking the snipers’ view.
“I-I can’t,” Blake said.
Val leaned in close. “You wearing a wire?”
Blake shook his head.
“Then listen to me. For as long as Charlie has you, he’ll also have a chance at getting to me. He won’t be
rid of you that quickly, but you won’t last forever. You take this,” Val slid the item into his son’s gloved hand, “and wait until the right time. Merry Christmas.” Without another word, he turned and walked carefully across the slippery path. Within seconds the snipers would have a clear shot, and Val could feel every inch of him tensing up as he waited for the ear-piercing gunshot to echo through the park.
But it didn’t happen.
Instead, he kept walking, tapping his leg in the Morse code he and Robbie had practiced. This was the signal for him to come down and meet him at the van. Hopefully, he thought, if Blake played his cards right, they might all get out of this together, but everything would have to be done exactly as—
There was the boom. The crack of a sniper rifle, like a firework exploding in the sky.
Val’s reactions had slowed right down these past few weeks. Maybe it was his age, or it could have been the weather. He looked down at his torso, searching for a hole where the bullet might have whistled down and torn through him. But he couldn’t find it.
Suddenly, as if he’d seen it for himself, he realized what had happened.
Oh God, no!
No longer caring whether he got shot, he broke into a sprint. His heart could barely take the awful concern and the strain from running so fast. He shot under the archway and exited the park onto the pavement. From here he could see the van, where the driver-side door was open, and the body was sprawled onto the road.
Val ran over to Jackie, whose hand was on her stomach. He put his hand on her wet back. The blood coated his hands, dark red and thick. “Oh Jesus, Jackie. Don’t—Jackie, stay with me. Stay with me!”
There were rapid footsteps behind him. Val turned to see Robbie holding a packed bag, a look of horror, failure, and regret plain in his expression. His mouth hung open. “Those sons of bitches! Those motherfu…”
But Val couldn’t hear what Robbie was saying. All he could hear was Jackie’s soft voice as she had told him all those weeks ago that she trusted him.
And now he’d let her down.
Chapter Fifteen
Twitch had sent her into the woods, demanding that she get some fresh air and exercise. The way he’d said it had sounded as though he was up to something. Sure, he must have known for a fact that she wouldn’t be able to make it all the way into the city—it was way too far for a single person to hike—but he’d sent her nonetheless.
Rachel must have lost track of time. She’d walked in a complete trance, barely observing her surroundings. She stepped over a hundred fallen branches and trampled a thousand broken twigs, with only the yellow moon to light her path. When she’d gotten so far, she heard a grunting, like the heavy panting of a bear-sized animal. Her vision had been limited to ten feet, and everything else bled into pitch black. With fear quickly rattling her bones, she turned and headed back to the cabin.
Now, she was coming up the porch steps, and an inviting smell filled her nostrils. It was something familiar. Something cooked. It made her stomach ache with hunger. A light was on inside, but she didn’t look. Rather, she went right in to see what was going on.
As soon as she walked through the door, she saw Twitch wearing an apron. He was moving around the kitchen with graceful swiftness that would have rivaled her own cooking skills. The sound of clattering pots shot through the room as she slid off her coat—it was his, actually: big, brown, five sizes too big and stinking of fish. She walked toward him. “What’s all—” she began, and then she saw the kitchen table.
There was an enormous spread of chicken, green vegetables, and something she didn’t recognize. Pigs in blankets, which her mother used to make, and a large boat of gravy. Rachel stood disbelieving. She’d never looked at such an impressive spread.
“Perfect t-t-timing,” Twitch said. He sucked something off his fingers one by one, wiped his hands on the apron, and then pulled it up over his neck. Throwing it to one side, he went over to the table and dragged a chair out, gesturing for her to sit.
Rachel stepped toward him cautiously and accepted the seat. What is he up to? she wondered, though she couldn’t deny the entrancement the smell had her senses tied in.
“It was too late to get a turkey, so I hope you like chicken.” Twitch tucked her chair in and took a seat across from her. The plates had already been set, and he began to scoop various items of food onto the one in front of him.
Amazed, Rachel stared at him until he handed her a bowl. He looked sheepish when he realized she was looking right at him. “What’s the occasion?”
“Christmas, of c-course!”
Already? She quickly added the days in her head—for six or seven weeks he must have kept her here. “Oh my…” She hurried to fill her plate, not really caring that he might think of her as greedy. She’d been hungry for so long now she would be happy to eat everything on the table and ask for seconds.
“Well, Christmas is tomorrow. But my d-d-dad always used to celebrate on Christmas Eve. He said it made us d-different.” He drowned his plate in gravy and set the boat down in the center, right between the two of them. “I don’t think it d-does. But ih-ih-it’s tradition.”
Rachel ate everything she could and as fast as her stomach allowed. It was as if this was one brilliant dream, and she wanted to get her fill before she woke up to starvation and torturing disappointment. When she finished, clearing her plate, she sat back and watched Twitch finish. Neither of them spoke until he was done.
“Oh damn,” he said, dropping his cutlery onto the empty plate in front of him. “I f-forgot the music.” Twitch leapt out of his chair and moved over to a radio.
“It’s all right,” Rachel said, but it was too late.
Twitch stood at the back wall, thumbing through a shelf-long collection of CDs. She’d already looked over the variety when she’d snooped around a couple days ago. There was nothing that interested her, only soft rock and classic pop. Rachel looked around, wanting to help him clean up but waiting for her dinner to go down before she dared make a move. She was watching Twitch, too, thinking how sweet it was of him to cook for her at long last. Maybe he’s coming to like me a little more, she thought. He’s just lonely.
A soft melody kicked in, and Frank Sinatra’s voice sang gently from the speakers. Twitch turned and held out his hand. “Dance with me, Rachel,” he said without a stutter.
“Oh, no, I’m way too full for that.”
“I insist.” He looked at her with pleading eyes, the type that wouldn’t allow her to refuse.
Rachel took a deep breath. I haven’t danced in over ten years.
It was “The Way You Look Tonight.” A song that she related to her first love. For years after the rough breakup, she’d hated it. But recently she was just starting to like it again. “One song,” she said strictly, smiling and standing.
Rachel took his hand and put the other around him.
She stepped into his embrace, and her feet moved with the music as if on automatic. It came to her without having to think. The food weighed her down, but she felt such gratitude for it that she wanted to repay him with a good dance—one that he’d remember for the rest of his life.
The song was captivating. It sent her eyes into a relaxed sleep but kept her body moving in perfect flow with the music. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, the soft wool a fresh caress to her cold skin.
“Merry Christmas, Rachel,” he whispered into her ear.
This was perfect. She knew she could fall asleep here. It’d been months since she’d felt this good. It was a sweet relief—the break she’d needed. “Merry Christmas, Blake,” she said and barely noticed she’d said the wrong name.
But Twitch only sighed, one short huff under his breath. He seemed to forgive it. Moments later, when the dance had stolen over them, he spoke again. “Rachel?”
“Hmm?”
“I never expected to find you the way I did. But now I don’t want you to go.”
“I know,” she said into his neck, smiling. “But I
have to.” It was true, only she didn’t want to think about it just then. She was enjoying the moment too much.
Twitch didn’t say anything after that. He only continued to dance with her in the kitchen, quietly and gentlemanly until the song ended.
That was the last thing Rachel remembered before she fell asleep on the couch with a satisfied stomach and a big smile on her face.
Chapter Sixteen
Terry stood looking at the building, knowing he may not return. If the rumors about the Agency were true—and he strongly suspected they were—he would have to be extremely careful. Getting caught would be fatal.
An hour ago, he’d seen the gates crawl open, and a limo was driven out of the underground garage. Terry had trusted that it would return sometime soon. He’d decided that he would give it up to an hour, and then he would be forced to find another way inside.
It was a little over an hour, with Terry stood against the wall and blending in with the crowd, when the car came back. It was a long stretch of road, and he saw it coming from the distance, driving slowly under the many arcs of Christmas lights that connected buildings together in pairs. Terry crossed the street toward the building, careful not to arouse any kind of suspicion. It would be nice, he thought, if he could make it home to his wife this Christmas. He pictured her at home, sipping on a mug of coffee in utter silence, the clock ticking and making her drift off.
He’d known it would happen; the metal shutter screeched open while the limo waited outside. The windows were blacked out so he couldn’t see inside. He simply had to trust that he wasn’t being observed by its passengers.
The limo crawled inside, and Terry seized his opportunity to breach the building. As the shutter inched back down, he dropped to the floor and rolled on his side to gain entry. He then climbed to his feet and saw there was one guard holding a rifle. He had his back to the gate, watching the limo park in the far corner of the garage.
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