Swordfish

by Andrea Bramhall

  “No, General. I will remember in the future. I swear it.”

  “Good. Who was on the phone?”

  The boy climbed back to his feet. “It was Hakim, sir.”

  He nodded. “Go fetch me a phone.”

  The boy’s bare feet slapped on the deck of the fifty-foot yacht as he ran to do Masood’s bidding, returning quickly with a burner phone.

  “Go and tell the captain that we will be moving position in five minutes.”

  “Yes, General.”

  Masood turned his back on the boy and dialed the number for Hakim Qandri. His onetime bodyguard was his most trusted ally in the fight against the Zionists and all those who supported them in their land theft, and the war they had waged on the Arabs of Palestine for more than sixty blood-drenched years.

  “Hakim, my friend, tell me you have good news.”

  “I wish I could, General. There is no movement at the address you gave me. It appears empty.”

  “For how long?” Not the news Masood wanted to hear. He rubbed a hand down his face, fingertips brushing the edges of the ragged scar on his left cheek.

  “Unknown at this point. I have been watching the house for three days now and there has been nothing. I have even been to her work address.”

  “No sign there either?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I will check my sources and get back to you.”

  “Understood.”

  Masood disconnected and called another number. He left a message before destroying the phone and dumping it overboard.

  “Where to, General?” the boat’s captain asked.

  “To the marina in Eilat. I have business to attend to.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  He hated the Israelis, but he loved living under their very noses while he planned the attack that would avenge the millions who had died in the conflict. He would avenge his brother, as he’d promised. He went over every fact he knew about his target. Every detail of her life had been documented by her own father for so many years that all he had to do was follow the trail. But it seemed she’d detoured from the path. And that was not acceptable. She was crucial to his plan and had been from the very beginning, but he was patient. Soon Daniela Finsbury-Sterling would be working on his project for him. One way or another.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bailey checked her watch again and realized she still had almost an hour before Cassandra was due to arrive. She parked around the back of the café and retrieved the vest she’d bought for Jazz. She knew she was pushing her luck, but she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Jazz tied up outside and her ending up as a bait dog again. The idea of it upset her so much that she was willing to set aside her discomfort at the fib she was going to portray as she slipped the vest on Jazz and proclaimed her to the world as a service dog. She hadn’t quite decided what service Jazz was going to offer her, but she’d cross that bridge if she came to it.

  Leash in hand, she pushed open the door to the café where she was due to meet Cassie and walked confidently to the counter. Act like it’s normal, and everyone will assume it is. She ordered a coffee, sat down, and looked through the notes she’d brought as Jazz settled herself under the table, head resting on Bailey’s foot. Her phone rang as the waitress put her coffee down.

  “Took you long enough. What’d you have to do, hack the databases yourself?”

  “Very funny. I had to call in all kinds of favors to get this info for you. You owe me for this.”

  “We’ll take it off the tab, Sean.”

  “I’m serious, Bailey. This is some heavy shit. How the fuck are you involved in it?”

  “A client came to me trying to find a long lost family member. Daniela Finsbury-Sterling. That’s it.”

  “There ain’t no way I can get you a location on her. She’s zipped up tighter than a nun’s wahoo, and asking about her has got red flags popping all over the goddamned place. The only thing I got, and I do mean the only thing, is that she’s being watched.”

  “By who?”

  “You name it, and they got letters.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Come on, Sean. I’m not asking for state secrets here.”

  “I can’t tell you, because I don’t know. She testified against her old man. That was huge shit. He was brokering weapons deals with terrorists, biological weapons. Now, she’s taken over the company, and everyone and their dog wants to know what the hell she’s up to. That’s all I know.”

  “She’s taken over Sterling Enterprises?” The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Bailey found the thought disconcerting. She’d looked into William Sterling extensively when she started looking into Cassandra’s case. The company was huge, and at the center of a biological weapons scandal. It didn’t sit easily with her.

  “Hell yeah.”

  “Shit.” Bailey turned over what the possibilities of that could mean. Did it mean Daniela was taking over from her father in every way, or was this a legitimate business takeover? Did she shop Daddy to the authorities to take over the empire, or was there more going on? “She’s being watched? Like not trusted watched, or like she’s working for the company watched?”

  “Don’t know. I got told to back my butt out of the situation and not look around.”

  Bailey rubbed her hand over her face. That didn’t help either way. “Okay, if you do hear anything else, let me know.”

  “I told you. I’m not involved.”

  “I know. Just in case.”

  “Right. Those other names you gave me were a dead end.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Cassandra Finsbury-Sterling died ’bout twenty-five years ago. And Professor Sandra Burns works at MIT. There’s some whispers about a research project she’s working on for the CIA, but that’s all. Can’t get access to her file. It’s way above my pay grade.”

  “She’s a neuroscientist. What could she be working on for the CIA?”

  “How the fuck am I supposed to know? Do I look like some kind of fucking genius to you?”

  “No.” Bailey laughed.

  “That was a rhetorical question, bitch.” Sean laughed with her.

  “Thanks for looking, bud.”

  “No sweat. Be careful. Later.”

  Bailey hung up, made some notes, and sipped her coffee. She was still scribbling when she heard someone clear their throat beside her.

  “I’m sorry I’m a little late.” Cassandra sat and stroked Jazz’s head as she greeted her from under the table. “How did you get her in here?”

  “No problem. And she’s my service dog?”

  Cassie eyed the vest Jazz sported suspiciously and spoke quietly. “And what service does she offer you?”

  Bailey leaned forward and grinned sheepishly. “I was thinking I could say PTSD or something like that. What do you think?”

  “Should work. It’s believable.”

  Bailey tidied her papers and smiled. “I think I’ve just been insulted.” She laughed as she signaled the waitress and waited while Cassandra ordered a cappuccino. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to call you Professor Burns or Ms. Finsbury.”

  “For the past twelve years, I’ve been Professor Burns, Sandra, Sandy—none of it ever felt like it was me. How about Cassie?”

  Bailey let the name play in her mind, imagined it rolling over her tongue. She liked the way it felt, the way it sounded in her head. “I think I can manage that. Does anyone in your life know about your past?”

  “No. The former head of the department knew. He was the one who authorized my position. He left several years ago.”

  “There are rumors that you’re working on a project for the CIA. Is that why you’re at MIT?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  Bailey nodded. Her non-answer told Bailey everything she needed to know. “Fair enough.” She sipped her coffee. “You officially died in nineteen eighty-eight. Sandra Burns doesn’t appear until two thousan
d and one. Where were you in between?”

  “I stayed in the UK for a number of years, then we went to Glens Falls, New York.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, me and my partner, Karen Riley. I was a teacher there, high school. She worked in a diner, she loved to cook, and she loved it there. It was a beautiful city just south of Lake George.”

  Bailey felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She didn’t know why it should surprise her that Cassie had a lover. She was beautiful, intelligent, and based on everything she was learning, an incredibly strong woman. It didn’t make sense for her to not have a partner. So why do I feel like I’ve lost the fight before the bell even started the round? She shook her head.

  “So what changed? Why aren’t you both still there? You sound like you were happy there.”

  “We were. Until Karen died.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Cassie sighed. “Thanks, but it was a long time ago now.”

  Pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that was Cassie Finsbury slid into place. “Let me guess, two thousand and one?”

  “Yes.” Cassie stirred sugar cubes into her coffee. She seemed mesmerized by the swirls of cocoa she created in the white foam.

  “So that was when you decided that Cassandra Finsbury had to die too?”

  “No. She was already dead then. But since he’d found me as Vivian Fenton, she had to go too.”

  Bailey frowned. Jesus, this is even more complicated than I thought. “Vivian Fenton? Another fake name you adopted?”

  “Yes. That was the one I used in Glens Falls.”

  “You said he found you. Who do you mean?”

  “William Sterling.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t follow. You faked your own death—forgive me, I assume you did fake your own death?”

  “I did.”

  “To get away from him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you think he found you and came after you?”

  “Because he’d found us before.” Cassie sipped her coffee.

  “He knew you weren’t dead?”

  “Not at first, but later he did, yes.”

  “Jeez, and this is the stuff you can talk about?”

  Cassie laughed. “Only because you found out I’m supposed to be dead.”

  Bailey rubbed her hand over her face. “Okay, so how did he find out you weren’t dead?”

  “Through Karen.”

  “She told him?” Bailey couldn’t tear her eyes away as Cassie licked the froth off her spoon. The action was sultry and sexy and totally unconscious, and it hit Bailey right in the gut.

  “No, she would have never done that. She got a job working for him as a cook.”

  “Is this before you and she knew each other?”

  “No. She and I had been in a relationship for three years when I died.” She used her fingers to create quotes when she said the word died and offered a lopsided grin.

  “Then why the hell would she go anywhere near him? That’s just asking for trouble.”

  “Daniela.” Cassie smiled and fished a photograph out of her purse. She smiled at the picture before she handed it to Bailey. A blond woman smiled at the camera with a child, maybe eight or nine years old, standing before her. She held a trophy in her small hands and beamed at the camera.

  “This is Karen?”

  “Yes. William hired her as a cook, but she was almost nanny to Daniela in the end. She watched over her while I couldn’t.” Cassie’s voice cracked. “William made a pass at Karen in front of Daniela. Karen refused him, and he fired her. Daniela got sick later in the week, and William wasn’t there. She called Karen, crying, in pain, she had a fever, and there was only the chauffeur there to babysit her that night. We were both furious. The only way Karen could stop me from going was to promise to go and take care of her.”

  Bailey felt her heart go out to the woman who had so desperately wanted to be there for her little girl, but instead had to trust her to the care of another.

  “She had someone with her who loved her, Cassie.”

  Cassie smiled a small, sad smile. “I know. And she loved Karen.” She pointed to the photograph. “That was very clear to see. When William found out that Karen had visited Daniela while he was away, he decided he needed to make his point to stay away. He turned up at Karen’s house. He was…” She wiped at the tears as they fell down her cheek.

  “You were there?”

  She nodded. “He was shocked to find me there.” She laughed bitterly. “Obviously. But it didn’t stop him from doing what he’d planned to do.” She picked a napkin off the table and wiped her nose. “He promised that if either of us went near Daniela again, he’d do to her what he’d done to us.”

  “He beat you?” Cassie looked into her eyes and Bailey knew that he’d done far more than beat her. She’d worked enough cases to guess at some of the possibilities, and her forearms quivered as she balled her fists. She also knew that Cassie wouldn’t tell her the details of what happened that night, but she could see it in her eyes, the scars of the horror she had survived. She wondered if she’d ever spoken about it. And as horrible as it must have been for them both, she was glad that Cassie had someone with her then who not only understood what she’d gone through, but was there with her.

  Cassie looked down at the table and nodded. The fact that she refused to meet Bailey’s eyes confirmed her fear. “Yeah. That was when I became Vivian Fenton, high school teacher in Glens Falls.”

  She covered Cassie’s hand with her own but let go quickly when Cassie flinched under the unexpected touch. “I get it.” She hoped she managed to convey that she really did understand the things that Cassie wouldn’t—couldn’t—say. That she’d seen that look in the eyes of women her whole life, and she understood the shame, guilt, and fear Cassie felt, even though she knew how misplaced it was. “You stayed as far away as you could to protect her.”

  “I had no other choice at that point. I’d played every card I had, and I lost.” Cassie took a deep breath. “He promised he’d kill us if he ever found us again. To this day I don’t know how he found us there, but he must have, or Karen would still be here.”

  “I don’t understand. How did Karen die?”

  “She was hit by a car as she was leaving work.”

  “Okay.” Bailey sipped her coffee. “And that has what to do with your husband?”

  “Ex-husband. It was a hit and run, the police couldn’t find a suspect or even the car. It must have been him.”

  “Why would he send someone after her and not you at the same time?”

  “I’m assuming that he couldn’t find my new name.”

  “Then how would he have found hers?”

  “The only person who knew our identities at that point was my father.”

  “And you think he sold out Karen, but not you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Long story.”

  Bailey couldn’t help but think that there was more than a little paranoia affecting Cassie’s judgment on this, but she also couldn’t disprove her theory. “Say all that’s true. William wanted you, Karen was collateral damage, if you’ll forgive the term. Why would he want her dead before he could use her to find you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe something went wrong. Maybe William’s lackey was inexperienced or something and went too far too soon.”

  The reasoning didn’t make sense to Bailey, and she was surprised at Cassie. She was a logical, intelligent woman, and this seemed out of character for her, but there seemed little point in pursuing it further right now. “What did you do after Karen died?”

  “I became Professor Sandra Burns.”

  “I know that. How?”

  Cassie sighed. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you that.”

  “You can trust me, you know?” Bailey took a deep breath. “I was a beat cop for ten years before I joined the FBI. I worked there for twelve years before I retired. I do this job to earn some cash and stop my br
ain from rotting. I’ve seen and heard stories that have made me cry, made me angry, and made me fight the urge to beat the living crap out of someone. Your story is complicated, and there’s a hell of a lot more to it, I know. But I’m pretty sure I’ll have heard some version of it somewhere down the line.” She smiled sadly. “The BPD trusted me. The FBI trusted me. And more recently, Jazz trusted me.”

  Cassie laughed. “That is an important one.” She reached down and stroked Jazz’s head as she winked at Bailey. “It isn’t about me trusting you, Ms. Davenport.”

  “Bailey. If you want me to call you Cassie, then I expect you to call me Bailey.”

  “Very well. It isn’t about me trusting you, Bailey. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have told you as much as I have. But like I told you the other day, there are things I can’t tell you.”

  Bailey let out a frustrated breath. It was clear that Cassie was being as open with her as she could be, and considering everything she had been through—the life she had lived hiding in shadows—that alone was pretty amazing. She considered the possibility that Cassie wasn’t a person who was naturally guarded, but rather, she’d had to become cautious, secretive, and suspicious of everyone in order to survive. And they were habits that she had learned at a price. Bailey sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m trying to help, and I’m trying to be patient and work within these boundaries, but it’s going to take me time to get used to being kept in the dark.”

  “Then why did you change your mind about helping me find my daughter?”

  It was the same question Bailey had been asking herself all day, and the truth was that she still didn’t have a good answer. All she knew was that it felt like the right thing to do. She wondered if her mother had ever tried to look for her. Had she sat in front of someone and begged for their help only to be turned away because she had a turbulent past? Had someone refused to trust her and cost them both a chance to find one another? Bailey didn’t know, and she would most likely never know. But if she could help it, another mother wouldn’t have to live with the unanswered questions that plagued her. Another daughter didn’t have to wonder if her mother had loved her.