by Eric Bernt
“Wasn’t the plan.”
“Why not?”
“She said she’d call us as soon as she had more details.”
“So she didn’t explicitly say not to call her.”
“If she wanted us to call her, she would have said that. She didn’t. The only reason we should call her is because we’ve encountered a problem she needs to know about. You becoming impatient isn’t one of them.”
She nodded, biting her tongue, then closed her eyes and started to slow her breathing. From the furrow in her brow, it was taking all the concentration she had. Inhaling through her nose, exhaling through her mouth, she gradually took longer and deeper breaths. Clearly, this was something she had practiced. In relatively short order, Skylar appeared noticeably calmer and more composed.
All Butler could think was, Thank God.
CHAPTER 26
SAFE HOUSE
GILBERTS CORNER, VIRGINIA
June 1, 5:12 p.m.
Caitlin had already walked through each room of the farmhouse. Every piece of furniture was coated in a light layer of dust. Clearly, no one had been here in over a decade, maybe two. The bar of Dial soap in the powder room had never been used. Neither had the full roll of toilet paper. The Sony television in the living room was connected to a VCR near a small stack of videos that included Out of Africa, The Shawshank Redemption, and Schindler’s List. Each of the movies was one of her father’s favorites, and the thought of them watching them together caused her to smile. Only she had never been here. This place was clearly some sort of crude approximation of the home she had grown up in.
The refrigerator in the kitchen was cold inside, but empty. The cupboards, on the other hand, were stocked with items that had long shelf lives: cans of soup, beans, fruit, tuna, and condensed milk; containers of instant coffee, boxes of tea, and a case of Bushmills, another of her father’s favorites. She opened one of the bottles and smelled the Irish whiskey within. While she had never developed a taste for it, there was something comforting to her about its scent. It reminded her of her father when he’d been at the top of his game.
There was a twenty-year-old Dell desktop computer in the den connected to a floppy disk drive and a dot matrix printer. All were items that reminded her of her childhood home. She sat down at the computer and pressed the power button, but nothing happened. The screen remained black. All she could see was her own reflection, as well as a piece of art that hung on the wall behind her. Which caught her attention.
The painting was a cheap reproduction of Gustav Klimt’s Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I, which sold in 2006 for a then-record $135 million. More than a few family friends had commented in Caitlin’s youth how much the woman in the portrait reminded them of her mother—which was why her father would have never displayed such a cheap imitation. Caitlin stood up to study the painting more closely. Shaking her head at the poor quality of the wretched thing, she took it off the wall—which was, apparently, exactly what she was supposed to do.
A state-of-the-art retinal scanner was revealed. While the rest of the technology in the house was at least twenty years old, this device was quite new. There was no dust on it. Whoever had installed it had done so recently.
With caution, Caitlin placed her chin on a small pad and looked directly in the scanner. The device instantly came to life, simultaneously scanning both her retinas. In the wall next to the scanner, several metal clicks were heard. Large tumblers rotated. A previously concealed door opened, revealing a staircase leading down. As if to her father, she commented, “A little dramatic, wouldn’t you say?”
As she made her way down the stairs, the hydraulic door closed itself. The large tumblers rotated again, this time locking her in. But Caitlin did not appear concerned. To the contrary, she seemed suddenly at ease. “I knew all that up there was bullshit,” she said as if Lawrence could hear her.
At the bottom of the stairs, she found herself staring at an incredibly high-tech control center. All the technology in this room was brand-new and state-of-the-art. A variety of flat screens showed a dozen security views in and around the house. Several more were connected to various news feeds.
Another screen showed a webcam view of a man who looked vaguely familiar to her. His military-short hair was completely gray, but full. His skin was weathered from too much time in the sun. Caitlin guessed he was in his sixties, but his musculature was that of a man half his age. “What the hell took you so long?” It was the same rugged and gravelly voice she had spoken to earlier.
“Hogan?”
“Well, I ain’t Cinderella.”
His name was Aloysius Hogan, but nobody had ever called him by his first name in the twenty years she had known him. Caitlin studied his face, which was worn but comforting in its familiarity. “It’s been a long time.”
“The last time I saw you, you were still in elementary school. Sixth grade, I think. I’m glad to see you never lost your freckles.”
“Why is that?”
“I like a girl with freckles. My wife has them, too, God bless her.”
“To ask the obvious, how did you get involved in this?”
“Your father—how do you think?” He smiled wryly.
Caitlin paused briefly, then asked, “What did you owe him?”
“More than I could ever repay.”
She recalled that was one of her father’s gifts—to make people feel so indebted to him, so grateful, that when it came time to return the favor, there was nothing they wouldn’t do. No matter what the personal cost. No matter how much time had elapsed. He could engender a level of personal obligation that bordered on the religious. Caitlin looked around at her surroundings in marvel. “What is this place?”
“Your father originally built it for himself in the event he ever needed to initiate an Alpha Reset Protocol. When he retired, it became yours by default.”
“But this technology, it all looks recent. How?”
“He set aside enough funds for me to keep it updated every six months in perpetuity. He knew that a successful reset would require three things: the best technology available, the best personnel available, and enough money to afford both.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“Well, the amount just grew considerably. Check the offshore accounts on the screen to your left.”
Caitlin did so but didn’t believe her eyes. She quickly added the very large numbers together and gasped. “This is six hundred million dollars.”
“A bit over it, actually.” Hogan sounded like he was talking about counting the correct change from a Starbucks order.
She still couldn’t wrap her head around it. “Where the hell did my father get six hundred million dollars?”
“He transferred it out of the American Heritage Foundation accounts earlier today.”
Now she was stupefied. “He . . . what?”
“Well, I executed the transfers, but the credentials were his. I was only following his instructions from a script he prepared years ago that started with your phone call to me. Now you can appreciate why I asked you to confirm that you wanted to proceed with the Alpha Reset Protocol.”
This was a lot for her to take in. Caitlin’s mind was reeling. “Wow.” She was imagining what Bob Stenson’s reaction would be upon learning that the American Heritage Foundation accounts had just been drained of over half a billion dollars.
Hogan nodded. “I get it, believe me. I was praying you’d change your mind when I asked you to confirm that you wanted to proceed. Make no mistake, Mrs. McCloskey, you have gone to war with your former employer. Only one of you can win. My job is to make sure it’s you.”
She started thinking clearly again. “I’m going to call you right back.”
He nodded again, knowing exactly what she was going to do.
CHAPTER 27
SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER
SAFE HOUSE
June 1, 5:17 p.m.
Caitlin worked her keyboard rapidly, gaining access to the rest
ricted portion of the Potomac Airfield in Friendly, Maryland. Specifically, the views from its security cameras, which now appeared on several monitors. She had received a username and password by the same person she had made other arrangements with. Given what she had already paid this individual, there was no additional cost for the access.
She watched as her husband’s Audi A6 approached the main security gate, passing a large wooden sign that read: “Potomac Airfield—The Preferred Airport for the Intelligence Professional.” She could see that two other people were in the car—one in the front seat, one in the back. These were her children, Marissa and Mikey. Marissa was thirteen and tall for her age. Through the windows, she looked like an adult. Mikey, on the other hand, was eleven but could have passed for younger. Caitlin could not hear what they were saying, but they seemed to be arguing with their father. She had no trouble imagining what the subject might be. Her kids had every right to want to know what was going on. Unfortunately for them, their father didn’t know any more than they did.
Peter presented his identification to the front-gate guard, who found his name on a list and allowed him to pass after giving him some instructions.
Caitlin followed her husband’s Audi on several different views until he arrived in front of hangar thirty-seven, where a man in a pilot’s uniform approached the car. He was barely in his thirties. Caitlin couldn’t hear him, but by reading his lips, it was clear that he had asked, “Mr. McCloskey?”
Peter rolled down his window and nodded.
Caitlin watched the two men have a brief exchange. After a moment, Peter handed the man his phone. The pilot, whose name was Kent, popped out the SIM card, then twisted the phone in his hands until it broke. He then handed Peter another phone, which was larger and looked more like a phone from the 1990s. It was a satellite phone made by Iridium called the Extreme, and it was widely considered the most secure commercially available phone in the world. While certainly impressive, the device was over a generation behind the technology in the phones used by Bob Stenson and the American Heritage Foundation. Kent explained the phone’s basic functions and showed Peter the number on the back to help him memorize it.
“Tell him it works anywhere in the world,” Caitlin said to the screen, as if to the pilot. “Tell him it’s the most secure communications device there is.” Alas, Kent could not hear her and did not do as she requested.
She watched Peter say, “Thank you.”
The pilot pointed to the side of the building, instructing Peter to park there. Kent then pointed to the aircraft he and the children were to board. It was an Embraer Phenom.
Peter parked his car and led the children toward the craft. He walked briskly, catching up to the pilot. He leaned toward Kent and asked him something quietly, but Caitlin could only see him from behind and didn’t know what was asked. It didn’t matter; the pilot shook his head, refusing to provide any answers. Because those were his instructions. The ones Caitlin had given him. She quickly dialed the number for her husband’s new satellite phone, which she had already committed to memory.
Caitlin watched him as he heard the phone ring. He turned to the pilot, obviously asking if he should answer it. The man nodded, so Peter clicked the appropriate button. “Hello.”
Caitlin could hear him clearly and spoke through her headset. “How are the kids?”
“A little unsettled. How do you think?” There was an edge in his voice. One that she couldn’t blame him for.
“You can trust the pilot, Kent. He is someone I’ve known for years.”
On-screen, Peter paused, realizing she could see him. He looked around for security cameras but couldn’t see any. He held up three fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Three. Don’t you dare hold up one.” She smiled, hoping he would appreciate her joke.
He smiled briefly, then quickly stifled it as the children moved toward him. Caitlin could hear them clearly through the phone. “Is that Mom?” asked Mikey.
Before Peter could answer, Marissa chimed in. “Where is she? How come she isn’t coming with us?”
Caitlin replied, “Tell them I’ll be joining you as soon as I can.”
“When exactly will that be?” he asked.
“I can’t quite answer that yet. What I can tell you is that your flight plan is for Minot International Airport.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s in North Dakota. About fifty miles south of the Canadian border.”
Peter paused to digest the information. “Sounds cold.”
Caitlin answered, “I’ve never been. I’m told it’s nice.”
After a moment, Peter asked, “Is there anything you can tell me?”
“I will tell you everything just as soon as I can. Right now, just know that I’m only having you do this out of an abundance of caution, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I promise I’ll answer every question you ask, but right now, I can’t. Call me when you arrive.” She hung up quickly.
Caitlin watched Peter on-screen as he hung up the phone. Kent approached him with a leather briefcase, which he handed to Peter. Caitlin lip-read the pilot’s words: “My instructions are to give you this. You are not to open it until we are airborne.” He then turned to the children, apparently welcoming them aboard the aircraft.
Whatever he said seemed to excite the kids, because they both charged up the stairs. Caitlin imagined that they’d been told they could sit wherever they like. Knowing Mikey, she figured he’d try to sit in the captain’s seat—which was exactly what he did. Caitlin switched her view to the three cameras she’d had mounted inside the craft: one in the cockpit, and two in the main cabin. She might not be able to physically be with her family on this journey, but she was going to keep an eye on them every step of the way.
Kent appeared on the cockpit camera, shooing Mikey out of his seat. After a failed attempt at negotiation, her son moved into the main seating area with Peter and Marissa.
As her kids hopped around from seat to seat in the main cabin, Caitlin felt guilty for spying on them. They had no idea she could see them. She told herself she was only doing it for their own good, but she knew it was a lie. She was keeping an eye on them to assuage her guilt—and because she could. It was her training. It was what she would do if they were part of her professional world, and never before had the line between church and state been so blurred.
Caitlin tracked the Embraer’s progress as they took off. Inside the craft, she could see Mikey and Marissa staring out of their respective windows, watching the world below them disappear. Peter’s gaze, however, was not out the windows, but fixed on the briefcase in his lap, which he tried unsuccessfully to open. The case was locked. There were two locks, each with three tumblers. He rotated the numbers to his birthday and hers, but that didn’t work. Then he switched the order, putting her birthday on the left and his on the right, but that didn’t work either.
“It’s not our birthdays,” Caitlin commented as if he could hear her.
On-screen, after pausing for a moment, Peter set both combinations to their anniversary: 3-1-4. Click, click. Both locks opened readily.
Caitlin smiled. She’d known it wouldn’t take him long.
Inside the briefcase, Peter first saw several stacks of freshly printed cash. Six, in fact: a stack each of ones, fives, tens, twenties, fifties, and hundreds. He hadn’t realized that his son could also see inside the case.
Mikey pointed to the cash. Caitlin lip-read as he exclaimed, “We’re rich!”
Peter lowered the briefcase lid so that the contents could no longer be seen and told their son to be quiet. He rotated the case to block his son’s view of the inside, then opened it once again. Next he picked up a set of house keys with a card attached. The card read: 48 Pleasant Street, Harvey, ND.
He then flipped through three brand-new passports: one for each of them. But these were not the same passports they had used recently to travel to Grand Cayman for their Christmas vacation. Thei
r photos were the same, and so were their first names, but these had no travel stamps, and their last name was different: Montgomery. They were no longer the McCloskey family; they were the Montgomery family.
Caitlin touched the screen with her finger as she watched Peter swallow hard. His family name was gone, just like that. Caitlin understood what this meant. He had only sisters. It was his duty to carry on the family name, and he took great pride in continuing the legacy. Peter had been relieved when their son was born because it meant he had fulfilled his familial duty. The name would continue. At least, it would have. But now, because of whom he had married, and his wife’s secret life, it wouldn’t.
Caitlin was riddled with guilt as she watched him slump in his otherwise comfortable seat. He was clearly feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. He closed his eyes, seemingly in prayer. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was asking God for relief, or for answers, or for all this to be an awful nightmare that he would soon wake up from. Her only hope was that one day, he could forgive her.
CHAPTER 28
I-495 SOUTH
OUTSIDE ADELPHI, MARYLAND
June 1, 5:33 p.m.
Butler had slowed his driving speed to accommodate the increasingly dense traffic. He was now traveling only eighty miles per hour. Sitting next to him, Skylar kept her eyes focused ahead of them, scanning for white vans. She pointed. “There’s another one.”
“That’s tan, not white.”
“You sure?” As they got closer to the van in question, she could see that he was correct. The van had Maine plates and appeared to be transporting a group of senior citizens. “Never mind.” She practically jumped out of her seat as Butler’s burner phone started to ring. She glanced at the caller ID. “Is that her?”
Butler did not recognize the number. “Don’t know who else it would be.” He answered the call, hitting the speakerphone button. “Yeah.”
Eleanor’s familiar voice came over the phone’s speaker. “Where are you?”
“In Maryland. Just passed a town called Adelphi. About thirty minutes north of Alexandria.”