“Any update on Cillian Halloran?” Liam asked.
Chapman’s jaw went tight for a second before he unclenched his teeth, the only sign of his anger. “It doesn’t look like he was on site during the attack. Whether or not he was even in London whilst the attack went down is debatable. We’ve been in contact with Interpol and advised them to issue a Red Notice on Halloran. We’ll see where that gets us.”
“And Emmet Doyle?”
“Unfortunately, being a guest at the gala isn’t a crime. He and Jansen survived the attack. We’ll keep Doyle under surveillance. As for Jansen, there’s more to gain from his freedom than locking him up.”
“So we let them go, sir?” Jamie wanted to know.
“As much as it pains me to do so, yes. We let them go.” Chapman folded his hands together, gaze sweeping around the table. “Whilst the results aren’t exactly what we wanted, this mission was necessary. We still believe that, but the fight ahead of us is going to be difficult. I’d say, at this point, the facts are clear. We’re in the middle of a genetic arms race between countries and terrorists, and I’m not sure we’re in a position to win it, because we can’t stoop to their level. We won’t stoop to their level. In the end, our morals might be what get us all killed.”
“At least we have them,” Liam said quietly.
It was more than anyone could say of the people who had orchestrated the terrorist attack Friday night.
Nazari cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Let’s finish up. I need Alpha Team back on American soil as soon as possible.”
Jamie reached for his cup of cold synthcaf and drank the dregs of it down, steeling himself for the hours ahead.
Later, when the debrief was finally over and the UMG released them, Liam was the one who drove Jamie and Kyle out to Heathrow and the private jet waiting for them there. The rest of the team had closed up the house in Kensington while they remained ensconced with the brass, preparing for the trip back home. Katie had even sent an agent back to UMG headquarters with a change of their own clothes to get into. They still had a cover to uphold, after all.
Nazari wanted them in the air and out of England before Adam Dixon’s story hit the media streams. Their flight back was registered under Katie’s identity as the CEO of Root Source, Inc., rather than his or Leah’s to further keep the press in the dark about his location.
Getting through Heathrow’s Terminal 6 security was quick and painless. Liam drove them right up to the private jet, letting the airport’s ground crew handle the baggage while he walked Jamie and Kyle to the jet’s stairs.
“I’ll see you inside,” Kyle said.
“He’s a bit of alright, that one,” Liam commented, watching as Kyle disappeared into the jet.
“He’s something,” Jamie agreed.
“Gran said the next time you visit we’re not allowed to break anything.”
Jamie winced. Just thinking about the dressing down Liam must have taken from the queen made him want to hide. “Did you tell her I was sorry?”
“She knows.” Liam shrugged in a what can you do? sort of way. “Considering what happened, the press isn’t tearing into us quite as badly as they could, if only because the people in question who died were technically criminals. Public opinion so far is they got their comeuppance. I expect it to change by the hour.”
“The media needs to keep their ratings up somehow.”
Liam extended his hand and Jamie gripped it with his own, pulling the other man into a hard hug. “I’d say don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, but we all know there’s very little I won’t do,” Liam told him with a tired smile as they separated.
“Katie won’t let me,” Jamie replied.
“That one’s always had you by the bollocks.”
“For the good of the country, or so she tells me.”
Liam laughed, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. The wind was sharp and cold on the tarmac, but after long hours spent inside the cold walls of UMG headquarters, it felt good.
“Be safe,” Liam said.
“You too.”
Liam waved him off and Jamie took the short set of stairs into the jet without a backward glance. The team had laid claim to their favorite spots, with Leah stretched out on one of the leather couches in the lounge area, streaming a show on her tablet. She looked up at his arrival, gaze pensive.
“Father called while you were still in the meeting. He said he plans to meet with us at MDF headquarters,” she said.
Jamie didn’t think he had room in his body to carry any more tension, but his sister’s words proved him wrong. “Great.”
“You should probably get some rest. You look tired.”
“It’s been a long weekend.”
“I know. I’m glad you’re safe. And, you know, thanks for keeping me safe.”
Jamie leaned down to give his little sister a hug, feeling her return it just as tightly. “You know I’ll always look out for you.”
“I know,” Leah said softly. “And I won’t—I’m not going to say anything to anyone about you and Kyle. I promise.”
Jamie closed his eyes, the relief he felt at her statement momentarily robbing him of words. Swallowing hard, Jamie finally got out “Thank you.”
“I sent him back to the bedroom. He looked as tired as you. Everyone else apparently slept for a little bit after being released, so why don’t you go join him?”
Considering who he would have to deal with once they landed, Leah’s suggestion was a sound one. Jamie let her go and ruffled her hair, smiling a little at the way she batted his hand away with a hiss of, “Don’t ruin my hair!”
He left Leah to her show, picking his way through the lounge and the tiny galley for the rear of the jet where the only bedroom was located. The door slid open with a touch of his hand to the control panel. He found Kyle laying on top of the covers of the queen-sized bed, staring at the curved ceiling.
“I’m too tired to sleep,” Kyle confessed.
The door slid shut on Jamie’s heels. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it up on one of the hooks in the wall. He undid his tie and belt, hanging them up as well before taking off his shoes. Crawling onto the bed, he lay down beside Kyle and wrapped an arm around him. Kyle immediately shifted closer, tucking his head beneath Jamie’s chin. Jamie closed his eyes, letting his body relax against Kyle’s, holding on as tight as he could.
“We need to,” Jamie said. “I get to deal with my father once we land.”
Kyle squirmed closer. “If that’s the case, you need sleep more than I do.”
Jamie hummed a wordless response, sleep already creeping in at the edges of his mind. As much as he wanted to stay up and enjoy having Kyle in his arms, because he knew the next week was going to be a shit-show of epic proportions, Jamie knew he needed rest.
“Sleep,” Kyle murmured. “I got this watch.”
That was all Jamie needed to hear before letting himself succumb to exhaustion, just for a little while.
Tuesday in the Washington, D.C. megacity dawned cloudy and wet, the cold winter rain a steady backdrop against the heated accusations, spin statements, and analysis going on across all news streams. The headlines screamed about a senator’s son mixing it up with known criminals who later struck a blow against freedom in the heart of London. They were all very dramatic, meant to entice viewers to read their story amidst all the others clogging everyone’s feed. Jamie flipped through the countless notifications on his tablet, grimacing at each new one that popped up every few seconds.
“The spinmeisters are out in force today,” Jamie said.
“Give me that.” Katie swiped his tablet out of his hand before he could protest and deftly began sorting through the articles. “Did you set your notifications for everything?”
“No?”
Katie gave him a look that plainly said she didn’t believe him. Jamie wisely didn’t say anything.
He and Katie were ensconced in an office located past restricted access secur
ity in the Pentagon. The DOD had required his presence for today and the MDF had sent along both of them. Jamie turned his attention to the flatscreen where the DOD’s press room was in full view. No one was at the podium yet, but the press conference was scheduled to start in a few minutes. He had several other media streams going in embedded windows, all of the talking heads in hot discussion over the London terror attack and how it was linked to a Republican candidate.
Katie tapped him on the shoulder with his tablet, gaining his attention. “Here. Consolidated by keywords and only retrieving from validated news sources.”
“Thanks.”
Katie tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Like Jamie, she was in her old Marine service uniform in keeping with their cover, her jacket and pants crisply ironed, medals and ribbons perfectly placed, peaked cap tucked under one arm. She eyed him critically before reaching out to adjust one of his ribbon bars ever so slightly.
“Don’t want you to look ate-up in front of the brass,” she muttered.
Jamie glanced down at his chest candy, making a face. “I could’ve sworn they were fine.”
“You’ve had other things on your mind than medal placement.”
That was putting it mildly.
They would have to deal with the dog and pony show after the press conference. Face time with the brass in the Marines, the DOD, and the MDF behind closed doors and away from the prying eyes of the press wasn’t something either of them wanted to deal with right now. Despite the presser today clarifying his team’s role in defending against the terror attack, neither of them would appear on camera. The photos The New York Times had published with the article had focused mostly on Jamie, for which he was grateful. The longer his team could remain anonymous, the safer they would be.
Jamie could never escape his family’s name. A fine line was drawn between his public and classified identities, and the demarcation was getting thinner with every year that passed. Right now, his two lives were converging more than he liked, but it couldn’t be avoided.
The mission in London had been a mess all around. Jamie knew they had caught Stanislav’s attention. Holding it was something else altogether. It was anyone’s guess if Stanislav’s possible precognition power had seen them coming. They’d managed to contain most of the Splice bombs—the UMG would claim all credit for that part of the mission—but one had still detonated. People had still died, to say nothing of the attack by the Reborn IRA. The damage to the Victoria and Albert Museum was unprecedented. Funnily enough, people were more upset about the damaged priceless art than at the deaths of criminals.
As for them, Katie was overseeing the Saunders & Associates project and would have to fly back to London at some point this week with Alexei to close it out. Jamie wouldn’t be able to go with her and that rankled.
The door to the room they were in slid open, catching Jamie’s attention. A single figure stepped inside, and Jamie bit back a grimace at the sight of his father. Richard wore a sharp charcoal-colored suit with a deep red tie, his hair slicked back away from his face.
“Jamie,” Richard said as he approached where they stood. “Sergeant Ovechkina.”
“Senator,” Katie murmured with a faint tip of her head in his direction.
“Father,” Jamie replied. “I thought you were making a statement after this one?”
“I’ll make one later at the Capitol building before dinner tonight. As I understand it, you still need to change before you can join me,” Richard said, eyeing Jamie’s uniform.
“I have meetings after this presser. I said I would join you for your fundraiser dinner, not in front of the cameras. The MDF wants me to stay out of the spotlight as much as possible while they try to kill this story.”
“You know that will be difficult.”
“Which is why I won’t be with you when you make your statement.”
Katie nudged him in the side with her elbow, drawing his attention. “It’s starting.”
Jamie looked away from his father, knowing the argument was only momentarily put on hold. On screen, the press room was quieting down amidst a flurry of movement off to the side. Both he and Katie automatically straightened into parade rest. The Commandant of the Marine Corps would always encompass their full and undivided attention.
General Solomon Herrera stepped up to the podium, his brown-eyed gaze piercing even through media cameras. Several aides with him remained off to the side of the elevated platform, all of them in the same Marine Corps service uniforms.
“Good morning,” General Herrera said in a deep, commanding voice. “I will preface this statement by informing all of you that I will be taking no questions afterward. I’m here today to address the recent terror attack in London and the actions a group of Marines took at the behest of the United States government in concert with the United Kingdom.
“I am aware of the article released on Sunday drawing incorrect conclusions about Senator Callahan’s son, Captain Jamie Callahan, a man and a Marine of utmost integrity, who agreed to aid our allies while on leave. He and several other Marines under his command went undercover using his family’s name and associated wealth to draw out known criminals whose intent was to target the fundraising gala that went forward last Friday.
“During the course of executing their duties, Captain Callahan and his team were caught in the crossfire. Though they sustained no injuries, a Splice chemical bomb was detonated by a suicide bomber in the museum. The UMG sent in the Royal Legion to handle containment and suppression of the enemy combatants. Captain Callahan and his team operated at the behest of two governments, completing their assigned mission to our satisfaction. I am here to make it very clear that the patently false depictions of Captain Callahan as a traitor to this country are dishonest and incorrect. The Marine Corps will not tolerate such defamation about one of our own.
“As the investigation into the terror attack in London is still ongoing, I hope you understand that we are in no position to update any of you beyond this statement. That is all.”
General Herrera nodded sharply at those assembled before stepping away from the podium, ignoring the questions shouted his way as he left the press room. The statement went a long way to explain away Jamie’s involvement with Jansen and the Reborn IRA, but it also stood to kill whatever inroads they may have been able to make with the criminal underworld.
“I can tell you from experience that statement won’t kill the story,” Richard said as the view of the press room switched to an anchor who jumped right into analyzing General Herrera’s words.
“It won’t kill the story only because I know you won’t stop talking about it,” Jamie said exasperatedly.
Richard gave him a cool look. “Considering I lent our family’s name and good reputation to the MDF, talking about it is the least of what the MDF owes me.”
“The MDF doesn’t owe you anything.”
“I have a right to defend myself and my standing just as much as you do, Jamie. From what I understand, you had a chance to stop this story before it even became a problem. The reporter gave you advanced notice of his intentions. All you had to do was have Katie here erase his memories—”
“Stop right there,” Jamie interrupted furiously as he got in his father’s face, so angry his ears were ringing. “You know for a fact there are laws telepaths must obey. Katie using her power that way, without approval, against an American citizen, is something she can’t do without severe repercussions, and it is something I will never ask or order her to do. So get that fucking thought out of your head. There’s a line, Father. You just fucking crossed it and I don’t appreciate it. This is my team, not yours. Stop acting like you own us simply because you were allowed to tangentially be part of one mission.”
Richard stared at Jamie, jaw tight, refusing to back down in the face of Jamie’s anger. Jamie honestly didn’t need to look very far for where his stubbornness came from. “I was under the impression she had carte blanche to use her power as she sa
w fit for this mission.”
“There are limits, and she holds to them religiously. Katie’s honesty and integrity in the use of her power was the only reason the United Kingdom allowed her a broader use of her telepathy. Your interpretation of their easement is appalling, but unsurprising.”
“Unsurprising?” Richard grit out.
Before Jamie could respond, his comms rang with an incoming unidentified call. Jamie held up his hand sharply at his father to forestall any further talking as he stepped back to answer the call.
“Callahan speaking,” he said, forcing the bite of anger out of his voice.
“That was an interesting press conference just now.” Stanislav’s accented voice came through crystal clear, stripped of everything except bland disinterest. “Here I thought you had nothing to do with your military anymore.”
“Do I need to remind you who my father is, Stanislav?” Jamie asked, affecting a bored voice. “Senate Majority Leader? Republican candidate for the presidency? Close friend to the current president? If you don’t believe my father has enough political clout to pull strings in order to clear my name, which incidentally is his name, then you’re sadly mistaken.”
Silence echoed over the line for a few seconds before Stanislav spoke again. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you choose to believe. What I care about is that Niko can’t seem to keep the press out of his clubs and you let the Reborn IRA loose in the gala. That shit is bad for business and I’m just cleaning up the mess you made. If you wanted to test my resilience, there are better ways to do it.”
“As I told your pet, I wanted Oksana out of the way. The gala was a useful backdrop, the Reborn IRA a useful tool. What’s not useful is a liar.”
Jamie laughed. “The very last thing I am is a liar when it comes to business. I’m no longer with the Marines, but the story spun better that way, and my father needs a clean name to win. Boosting my profile like this boosts his own. I’m sure you know all about political quid pro quos. My father is in it for the power. I’m in it to make money. How much money do you think I could make if my father is president, Stanislav? How much do you think you could make?”
In the Ruins (Metahuman Files Book 2) Page 31