by L. T. Ryan
Julie Polanski nodded.
Chapter 42
It seemed hotter outside than before they entered Polanski’s house. Clarissa didn’t think that was possible. Perhaps the humidity had risen to one hundred percent. Whatever the cause, she was relieved when they reached the car. The air conditioning kicked on immediately. The cold air was a shock to her lungs as she forced it in and out in shallow, quick breaths.
Beck navigated the residential street, keeping his speed in check. There were kids all around. Clarissa wondered why so many were outside on such a long hot day when they surely had computers and gaming systems in their climate controlled homes. Maybe a pact had been formed among the neighborhood parents.
Her thoughts turned to the information Polanski had given them. Without giving Banner up, she had told them he was responsible. But how did she know about the meeting with Sinclair earlier that day? Had Jordan managed to get free and contact her? Had Sinclair contacted her? Clarissa supposed it was possible that Sinclair was operating under the assumption that no one suspected him.
They exited the neighborhood and headed toward the sun, which was lumbering in the western sky.
“You think it’s a good idea to leave her?”
“She’s not going anywhere. And if she tries, I’ll know.”
“How?”
Beck didn’t respond.
Traffic on the opposite side of the road backed up as far as she could see. The vehicles moved at a snail’s pace compared to the fifty miles per hour Beck had the rental cruising.
“What if she makes a call?”
“Then she does. It doesn’t matter. I’d bet anything that Banner already knows. He knew where we were last night. He knew what happened earlier today. He knew you escaped with me. He’s probably got multiple teams out now looking for us and Jordan. I wouldn’t doubt that, if Julie calls him, he’ll send someone over to take care of her.”
“You mean kill her.”
Beck nodded.
“We should have brought her with us.”
“If something happens, she’ll have brought it upon herself. She knows that.”
She said nothing, but he must have noticed the shocked look on her face.
“Listen, Clarissa. Don’t think she didn’t know something about this. Whether she was involved, I can’t say. But at this point, she’s aware something’s not right, and she hasn’t done anything about it. For her sake, I hope she sits and sulks all night and comes clean in the morning. Any attempt to jeopardize what we’re doing is only going to result in her demise.”
Clarissa leaned back in her seat and turned her head toward the window. Her unfocused eyes watched everything pass by in a blur. Much like the past few days had. She found herself wishing she was still back in London, living among the terrorist cell she was gathering intel on. At least she could grasp that enemy and their intentions.
“Where are we going?”
“Banner’s house.”
“You think that’s safe?”
“Depends on whether he’s expecting us.”
“You think he will be?”
“Yes.”
In rush hour traffic, the drive to Banner’s home near Fort Belvoir, Virginia took close to an hour. The sun still shone from high in the sky, three hours until it would be extinguished amid a smattering of red, orange and purple.
She knew they had arrived when Beck turned into an older residential neighborhood. The homes were a mix of ranch and colonial style, with all-brick exteriors. The lots were large and wooded. Every home had an ornate door. Every back lawn was enclosed by a chain link or wooden privacy fence.
Beck pulled to the curb. He placed the transmission in park and left the car idling.
“What’s the plan?” Clarissa asked.
“His house is at the end of the road. We’ll go over a slight hill, giving us a view of what’s waiting down there.”
Clarissa glanced around, using the mirrors to see behind the rental car. “We can’t trust what we see, though. If he knows we’re coming, there’ll be cops, or FBI, or agents waiting. They’ll be hidden.”
Beck nodded slowly. He removed his hands from the steering wheel and placed them in his lap. The pistol he’d taken from Jordan bulged at his hip.
“Banner is a family man,” he said. “If he’s aware of us coming, then most likely he would have taken his wife and kids and left to get them someplace safe. In which case, we’ll be dealing with him tomorrow somehow.”
“But he’d still get someone to the house.”
Beck grabbed the gearshift and placed it in drive. The car rolled away from the curb, up a slight hill. Clarissa saw the entire street from the top. Beck pointed out Banner’s house. A white Lexus and black Infiniti were parked side-by-side in the driveway. The trunk of the Infiniti stood open.
Clarissa scanned the road and remaining driveways looking for signs of government or police vehicles. Nothing stood out. The street seemed like any other. There were a few kids out playing. A couple hand-in-hand, walking a dog. A woman jogging toward them.
The front door to Banner’s residence whipped open. An older blond-haired woman stepped out. She was thin and dressed in slacks and a short-sleeved blouse. She walked quickly to the Infiniti and reached inside the trunk. When she returned upright, she held a brown paper grocery bag with each arm. She left the trunk open and went back inside the house. The storm door shut, but the red front door remained open.
“He doesn’t know anything,” Clarissa said.
Beck nodded his head. “He wouldn’t risk Audrey’s life.” Beck took his foot off the brake and let the car roll down the hill. “That woman is our best hope, Clarissa. If we threaten her in front of Banner, he’ll crack. Trust me.”
She didn’t like the idea, but saw where he was coming from. Many people were able to withstand personal torture, but watching a loved one suffer was where they drew the line.
He pulled up to the curb a few houses away and cut the ignition.
Audrey emerged from the house, oblivious to their presence. She went to the back of her vehicle and reached inside.
Beck and Clarissa exited the rental car. They moved on foot toward Banner’s house.
Audrey pulled the first bag out and set it on the ground. She leaned back in and grabbed a second bag, which she placed next to the first. Clarissa expected the woman to close the trunk. Instead Audrey reached back in and pulled out a large box. She set this down, rose and closed the trunk.
Clarissa and Beck reached the driveway. Audrey turned around, stopping in place when she saw Beck. Confusion spread across her face.
“Why don’t you let me help you with that, Audrey,” he said.
“What are you doing here, Beck?” she said. “And who is this?”
By the time Audrey shifted her gaze back to Beck, he’d drawn Jordan’s pistol and aimed it at the woman. Her mouth dropped open.
“Grab the bags, then turn and slowly walk toward the front door. We’ll get the box.”
Audrey nodded and did as instructed.
Clarissa moved forward and picked up the box. Despite its size, it felt light. She resisted the urge to shake it to see what it contained.
Beck moved ahead of Clarissa in order to control Audrey’s movements. They entered the house together. A gust of wind washed Clarissa with hot air moments before she crossed the threshold into Banner’s home.
Clarissa recognized Banner’s voice coming from another room. “Did you get that package for me?”
Beck wrapped his hand around Audrey’s mouth so she couldn’t reply. The move was not without risk. She could have attempted to scream as his closed hand touched her lips.
“Audrey?” Banner called out. “You in there?”
Beck leaned forward and whispered something in Audrey’s ear.
The woman spoke. “I’m carrying too much. Can you come help me?”
Banner’s approaching footsteps reverberated through the floor as he approached from the other room.
Beck placed the barrel of his pistol against Audrey’s head. A soft whimper escaped her mouth. Beck looked at Clarissa and mouthed the word “gun.”
She drew her weapon and aimed at the empty space in front of them.
When Banner appeared, he seemed to take them all in at once. His eyes darted left and right.
“What the hell is going on here? What are you doing with my wife, Beck?”
“You know why we’re here. Where are your kids?”
Banner clenched his fist and took a step forward. Clarissa matched him, arm extended, pistol aimed.
“Not another step,” she said.
He lifted his arms and held his hands in front of his chest. He still wore his work trousers and a white button-up shirt. But he’d removed his holster and was presumably unarmed.
“Tell me where they are or I’ll break your wife’s thumbs.”
Banner nodded. “They’re down the street at a friend’s house.”
“When do you expect them home?”
“Around eight or nine. Whenever it gets dark.”
Beck said, “Here’s how this is going to work. I’ve got all night. You have until they get home to give me what I need. If you don’t, then Audrey dies and I start with them.”
“You son of a bitch, Beck. So help me God, you are going to pay for this.”
“No, Banner. You’re going to pay for what you did. The vice president, man. How could you sign off on his death?”
Banner’s cheeks turned bright red. “What are you talking about? I didn’t sign off on a damn thing.”
Neither man spoke for several seconds. They played a high stakes game of chicken. Clarissa knew Beck didn’t want to speak first because anything he said would direct the conversation. They had to wait for Banner to come to them, then they’d know which way to take things. Problem was that Banner had been trained the same way. The man went way back with Sinclair as far as Clarissa knew. They’d crossed paths somewhere, likely outside of the Service.
Banner appeared to calm down. In a subdued tone, he said, “Look, Beck. I don’t know what someone told you, but I had nothing to do with any of this. Part of me is glad to see you, because when you disappeared, I thought you had left because you were involved. But you’re here, and, as misguided as your presence is, together we can figure this thing out.”
“Figure this out,” Beck said, pushing Audrey’s head away with an open palm and adjusting the pistol so that if he shot, his hand would block the majority of the carnage headed his way.
“Christ, Beck! Don’t!”
Audrey cried. Her knees went weak. Beck never let go of her head.
“Tell me what I want to hear.”
Banner collapsed forward and fell to his knees. With outstretched arms and tears streaming down his cheeks, he pleaded for Beck to spare his wife’s life.
“I don’t know anything. I swear it. I don’t.”
“Your kids are next.” Beck adjusted and squeezed the trigger.
Banner closed his eyes and continued pleading for Audrey’s life. She simply cried.
Clarissa watched on, unable to move.
The click that followed silenced everyone.
Chapter 43
Clarissa unclenched her eyelids and scanned the three other individuals in the room. Diffused sunlight lit the area, reflecting off the brass pendulum bob of the antique grandfather clock.
Banner had fallen face first onto the floor. His hands clasped together behind his head. Choked breaths mixed with fits of sobs.
Audrey lay on the floor as well. But the pool of blood Clarissa expected to see wasn’t there. The woman rolled over and scooted toward her husband. He looked up when she grabbed hold of his hands. Neither of them spoke. They embraced in a tear-ridden hug.
Beck took a step back. He looked at the couple on the floor, then at Clarissa.
She felt as though she was going to pass out.
Banner rose to his knees. Pointing at Beck, he said, “You crazy bastard. I’m gonna hang your ass for this, Beck.”
Beck reached into his pocket, pulled out the SIG’s magazine and inserted it. He lifted the weapon and aimed it at Banner, who retreated while shuffling his wife behind him.
“I’m sorry I had to do that. I had to know. You’d have given up anything you had rather than watch your wife die.” He tucked the pistol in his waistband and gestured for Clarissa to do the same.
Banner got to his feet, then helped Audrey up. She wanted to leave, but Beck wouldn’t let her. She needed to remain close by. Instincts or not, Beck could be wrong about Banner.
“Tell me what the hell sent you charging in here,” Banner said.
Beck and Clarissa told the story from the beginning, starting with Clarissa’s account of the shooting. The details left Banner looking upset, but he urged them to continue. Beck detailed the attempt on their lives at the apartment where they had placed Clarissa. When told of Amy’s death, Banner became visibly upset.
“I chose her for the position,” he said. “Christ, and now she’s dead.”
Beck said, “She came over because her son never came home. She was distraught, but hadn’t contacted the police.”
Banner asked, “Do you think she knew what was going on?”
“If this was truly an inside job, I do. And whoever’s behind it knew that she would come to me, being so close.” He pointed at Clarissa. “Both of our apartments are on the same side of the building. He — the shooter — would have known where to look.”
“You think she was killed for a reason, then? He didn’t miss Clarissa and hit her.”
Beck nodded. “Back to the boy. Do you have any knowledge of where he might be?”
Banner shook his head and said nothing.
Clarissa followed Beck’s lead and mentioned nothing of what Polanski had said about taking the boy to protect him. Perhaps there had been some truth in what she had said. If there had, lies were so intertwined that she couldn’t help but feel that Adam was in danger.
She continued with the story, detailing their escape from the building, and the city. When told about the attack at the cabin and the identity of the attackers, Banner looked surprised.
“Christ, this places Sinclair in the middle of this thing.”
“What do you know of his and Julie’s relationship?” Beck asked.
“There’s some things that are classified, but what I can tell you is that they’ve worked together in the past. They don’t go back as far as Sinclair and I do, though. I’ve known him since the eighties. I know he’s been in some bad stuff before, but nothing like this.”
Clarissa continued with her version of the events, stopping at her encounter with Sinclair in the restaurant.
“That paints a bad picture of him,” Banner said. “Why would he do this?”
“That’s my question,” Beck said. “What does he have to gain from taking McCormick down?”
“Nothing,” Banner said. “McCormick was a kid when he went in, and even if he ends up president, Sinclair’s ops are so black, he won’t deny them. There’s nothing political for Sinclair to gain from this.”
“What about Julie?” Beck asked.
“How do you mean?”
Clarissa said, “When I was with her a few days ago, she complained a lot about being passed over for positions. Things like that. Was McCormick ever in a position to keep her from being promoted?”
“You were there before you came here, weren’t you? Her house?”
Beck extended a hand. “Just think about Clarissa’s question. Can you think of any reason she’d want McCormick removed from office?”
Banner shook his head. “He had nothing to do with her, where she’d been, or where she’s going.” He dropped his head back and took a deep breath. “But I denied her latest request to apply for a position heading up a field office. It would have been a step up for her, but a pain for us to deal with.”
They stood in silence for a few moments as their stories settled with
one another. Clarissa couldn’t escape the feeling that leaving Polanski like they had would come back to bite them. But what was the connection with Sinclair? How did Jordan fit into this? It meant Polanski had to have known about his plan in order to set hers into motion.
And despite everything that had happened, a part of her still wanted to trust Sinclair. Perhaps he was the only one on her side. All she had to do was recall the events in the restaurant to shake those feelings.
The fatigue, questions, constant movement, it all made her head hurt.
Banner shook his finger and pointed at a spot behind Beck and Clarissa.
“What?” Beck said.
“That box,” Banner said.
“What about it?”
“I got a message to pick it up. Didn’t think much about it at the time. In fact, I sent Audrey to get it. That’s the only reason she got home so late.”
Beck turned around and walked toward the cardboard box. He looked surprised at its weight when he lifted it into the air.
“What’s in it?” Beck said.
Banner shrugged. “No clue.”
“Who told you about it?”
Banner cleared his throat. “Julie Polanski.”
Chapter 44
Beck tore the box open and pulled out several crumpled up strips of thick brown paper. He stopped and squinted at the contents. Clarissa resisted the urge to look in the event that the box had been a ruse devised by Banner to distract them.
Beck pulled out a folded piece of paper. A single strip of tape held the paper together. He tugged on it, freeing the edge. A thumb drive fell out and bounced on the floor.
“What’s that?” Banner said.
“USB drive,” Beck said. “Where’s your computer?”
Banner turned and took a step down the hall.
“That’s far enough,” Beck said. “Tell us and Clarissa will get it. And not a company machine, either.”
Banner told her where to find Audrey’s laptop. Clarissa ran into the living room and retrieved it off the coffee table. When she returned, Beck was reading off the paper. All she heard was him saying Polanski’s name.