by L. T. Ryan
“No,” she said. “I froze.”
“Why?”
“I knew him. And he knew me. Well, not me, but my cover.”
“He was part of the organization.”
She nodded. “Right hand man for one of the capos. Two steps down from the boss.”
“What happened?”
“I shoulda killed him, but he was unarmed. He called me out by my undercover name, looked around, saw his partner on the ground. I guess he figured out what was going on because he rushed toward the table for a pistol sitting there. I jumped on him and we struggled for a bit. The fight went in his favor. He had me pinned down. The pistol was almost in reach. He’s sitting there, all his weight on my chest, my arms locked in one of his. His other arm was outstretched, feeling along the table. All the pressure is bearing down on my neck. My vision started going black on the edges.”
“Your husband find a way to intervene?”
She forced a laugh. “That piece of dreck? No way.” She glanced toward the window. The line outside the tavern had shrunk. “Sirens.”
“Someone heard the round you fired,” I said.
“Yup, and the police responded. Practically ran through the front door with their patrol car. So, Gav—I mean, this guy dives out the window and runs. But he’s made me, right. Once they all get together, they quickly figure out I was undercover. Thankfully they only knew a little about my husband. FBI got him patched up and dispatched him to the witness protection program.”
“He still in it?”
She shrugged. “I assume so. There’s no contact with him. But after it was all said and done, I got my butt reamed. I mean, how many possible ways could I have fucked up in one night? Since then, we haven’t been able to get close to either man.”
I said nothing.
“I just want to make it right. Put them both away, and then deal with my ex-husband so I can put that chapter of life to bed.”
I watched her as I eased back into the seat. Things started to make sense. She’d been handcuffed by the FBI. Probably pushing paper all day long. To do otherwise, they’d have to admit that they had an agent undercover who went after a politician. That could cause all sorts of problems if she didn’t have enough evidence.
She had to have been acting alone and without permission now. Why? Was Thanos connected with the mob and the politician?
18
A few moments later Lexi said she wanted to leave. The questions could wait. She’d unloaded a lot of information, and I wasn’t sure I could get her to reveal any more at the tavern. We paid our check and headed outside. The temperature had dropped thirty degrees during the time we were inside. A biting wind gusted in from the northwest and arctic air worked its way through our light clothing.
Lexi stepped onto the street and flagged down one of the few cabs roaming the area that night. It pulled up next to us.
“Sure this is a good idea?” I said, pulling the door open an inch.
“No,” she said. “But I’m freezing.”
“Fair enough.”
We climbed in and remained silent during the four-minute ride to the motel. The driver dropped us a block past it. We cut down a side street and came up to the motel from the road behind it. It was hard to tell if anyone was watching. It was dark and there were few streetlights.
Back in the room I checked on the dog, changed out his bandages, freshened his water. We had to find a place for him soon. Problem was clinics ask questions, and in a case where it looks like abuse had occurred, they called the authorities.
“We’ll get him somewhere tomorrow.” She placed her hands on my shoulders and squeezed.
I stood, turned. We were face to face. She reached for my chest, her fingers dragged down to my waist. She hooked her thumb in my waistband. I reached around her back, pulled her into me. Our lips grazed past one another a few times until they met. We fell onto the bed and disappeared into one another.
A few hours later, I pried her lifeless arm off my chest and slipped out of bed. I grabbed my bag and headed outside. The full wrath of winter was on display. Snow fell, accumulating on the grass below. The street and parking lot looked darker than before. Too warm for the snow to stick. But with the temperature in a free fall, the asphalt might ice up if it snowed all night.
I trudged through five inches of powder around the back of the motel. A section of the building bowed inward like the letter U. The wind didn’t hit as hard there. I pulled out one of the phones from my bag and dialed a number by memory.
After three rings, the call was answered.
“Whaddya want?”
“Put him on the line,” I said.
“Why?”
“Charles, so help me God, this isn’t the time to screw with me.”
He laughed. “I’d say it’s the perfect time. See, this way I don’t have to worry about cleaning your blood off my ring when you get your panties in a wad over me busting your balls.”
I said nothing.
Charles sighed. “What? Nothing? Man, you need to lighten up if you’re ever gonna join us.” The line went silent for a moment, then I heard muffled voices. Finally, Charles came back on the line. “Here he is. For your sake, I hope you have good news.”
“Good evening, Mr. Jack.” It was after two in the morning in New York and the Old Man sounded wide awake. “I’ve been waiting for your call. From what I gather, our acquaintance has gone missing.”
“That’s something I don’t get.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll use some damn codeword for the target, yet continue to address me by name.”
“Mr. Jack, there are lots of Jacks in this world. Who could possibly figure out I’m talking to you?”
I knew the line was secure on both ends. Brandon, my go-to guy for tech and surveillance and intelligence, had set up a network of numbers for me to use. I gave each to one and only one person. I dialed into it, it dialed out to them through a network of switches that’d baffle the most experienced server geek. And the line worked both ways. All I had to do was update my number in the system. No traffic could be monitored, not even by the NSA or GCHQ. For the Old Man’s part, I was aware the lengths he went to in order to maintain silence. Still it was good practice to keep some distance on these calls. Sloppy habits and all that.
“Maybe the same people who figured out I was in town to deal with this guy,” I said.
There was a pause on the line. “Are you saying that the disappearance has nothing to do with you?”
“I’m saying from the moment I arrived in this town, I’ve been hot. I had a security detail all over me in the city. I had a couple goons show up at a motel I paid cash for. I can’t say for sure the two are related, but there has to be some connection. Then this morning I show up at the house to take care of the problem, and someone else has already cleared the drain. Not only that, they’d left behind a couple watch dogs to ensure any additional clogs were dealt with.”
“I see.” I could hear Charles in the background asking the Old Man what was going on. He muffled the phone for a few seconds, then came back on. “I can assure that I had nothing to do with any of these events, Mr. Jack.”
The snow that had accumulated on my hair had begun to melt and seep through to my skull. “I’m finding it hard to believe you right now.”
“Be that as it may, I’m going to reach out to a contact to see what they know. Can I reach you at your number?”
“No. I’ll call you tomorrow morning. You better have some answers for me or I’m going completely dark. You won’t know I’m there until it’s too late.”
I took a walk after the call. My relationship with the Old Man had been rocky since its inception. Those inside the organization held little regard for me, despite the work I’d done. Charles would just as soon kill me as work with me. Maybe the Old Man wasn’t behind it. Perhaps Charles had done the dirty work, undermining his boss. After all, I still couldn’t figure out what the deal was with Matt, the guy wh
o had driven with us. Was he really part of the organization like Charles had started to tell me? I shouldn’t have cut him off. Matt could’ve been a hired hand and had been tracking me since I left New York.
Someone had been a step ahead of me the whole time. It became increasingly clear that Thanos never returned home last night. His own security detail had sold him out, or they were taken out, too. I thought back to the guy I’d shot in Thanos’s backyard. He didn’t look familiar. Neither did the men at the first motel. How many groups were at work here? Three? At least that many between the Old Man, Thanos’s security detail, and some other opposition of unknown origins.
And what connection did Thanos have with Lexi’s previous life in the Bureau? With the politician and mob boss? I needed names in order to connect the dots.
That familiar chill raced up and down my spine. I glanced over each shoulder in search of a tail. I was on high alert, and the lizard brain was on repeat telling me to get out of town. I wanted to listen. But, then what? Would I always be on the run from the Old Man? It’d be better if I cut the head off his organization. And taking number two out as well. Life with Charles running that show would be a nightmare. The guy never thought before taking action. I often found it hard to believe the Old Man trusted him so much.
I worked my way through the storm and back to the empty covered walkways. The stairwell had iced up. Guess throwing out salt was too much work for the night crew.
The shades covering the windows in my room were faintly illuminated, as they had been when I left. I stopped at the door and listened for a moment, then opened it and saw Lexi, dressed, and picking her shoes up off the ground.
“Going somewhere?”
19
I looked around the room to see if anything was out of place. Nothing had moved, not even the dog.
“Jack, I, uh…” She set the complimentary writing pad and a pen on the bed. “It’s all on there.”
I closed the door and leaned back against it. “If this is about what happened tonight, you know there’s no pressure here. Not like I expect us to start—”
She waved both hands. “No, it’s not that, Jack. C’mon, I’m a big girl. I’m capable of handling any feelings that arise. I mean, we were both a little tipsy. It’s only natural.”
I looked around again, noted the car keys were missing from the nightstand. “Then why are you leaving in the middle of the night?”
She pointed at the pad of paper on the bed. “It’s all on there.”
“One or both of us might be in danger here. I’d rather talk this out than read about it.”
She dropped her shoes and sat on the bed. “I can see you’re not gonna make this easy.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She took a deep breath. “Here goes. I’m basically AWOL from the Bureau right now. Do you know what that means for a federal agent?”
“I have an idea.” We had leeway in the SIS, but failure to report would not be looked upon kindly.
She stretched her arms back and leaned into them. “I don’t feel like it’s safe for me to check in with my boss. Things got so out of hand.”
“When are you gonna level with me, Lexi? What’s going on here? Why were you at Thanos’s house, and what’s he got to do with your time in the DCO?”
She closed her eyes, dropped her head back. Her hair grazed the bed. Her breasts stuck out toward the ceiling. I shoved the thoughts associated with that aside and focused on the issue here. Was she leaving to get away from me? Or trying to keep me safe? But from what?
She turned her head toward me, leveled me with her stare. “Why are you interested in Thanos?”
I had to think on the fly. “We’re concerned that he’s funneling funds to a terrorist organization.”
Her eyes narrowed and the skin above her nose crinkled. “Thanos? Terrorists?”
“I haven’t seen all the intel. My job was to infiltrate his residence and his office, look for evidence. If possible, I was to apprehend him and conduct an interrogation.”
“His office? Good luck. He’s hired so much security that it’s impossible to reach him there. Hell, even at his home most of the time. That’s why we scheduled our meeting when we did, so he’d have everyone out of there. I can’t imagine who found out.”
“What’s he do for a living?”
“You don’t know?” She leaned forward, put her hands on her knees.
“Like I said, I was only given a name and a couple addresses.”
“He’s into a lot of stuff. Real estate, mostly. That’s how he earned his fortune. He’s got several other businesses.”
“All legit?”
She shook her head. “Of course not. Think I’d have leverage on him if they all were?”
“Good point. He reached out to you, though?”
“He’s mixed up in all kinds of things. Something happened, and he hasn’t told me what yet. But he needed help getting off the grid. He knew someone was coming for him.” She rubbed her chin. “You, perhaps.”
I shrugged, said nothing.
“He was scared, I know that. He feared for his life.” She rose and paced across the room, stepping over the dog, who’d decided his job was to block anyone from passing from one side to the other. “What I wouldn’t give to know what he was hiding.”
“What if I can help you there?”
“How? By interrogating him?” She shook her head and waved me off. “And what does that mean anyway? Like, you’ll sit down and have a cup of coffee with the guy? Or…”
“I’d take the ‘or…’ there.”
“You’re a trained killer, aren’t you?”
I had to phrase it delicately, otherwise I might lose her to the night. “I do what it takes to get a job done. You remember what it was like undercover, right? Didn’t you have to skirt the law on occasion? Same here. Sometimes it involves getting information from a junkie. Other times I might have to make a purchase from an arms dealer to gain their trust, make them believe in my story. There are times when I’ve been tasked with neutralizing a target, an enemy combatant of the state. If my job was to take a life, there was a damn good reason for it. I’m not simply a murderer. Not a psychopath.”
I couldn’t tell by the way she stared at me whether she bought into my story. It wasn’t entirely false, but I gave her the description that best described me up until two and a half years ago, when I was betrayed by the people I worked with and wound up on the wrong side of a rogue FBI agent who was working with a terrorist. The way that shook out, I knew there was no right or wrong side of the law. We are all bastards in the same game, only some of us used self-righteousness as an excuse.
“OK, we’re gonna get out of town,” she said. “I’ve got a place we can go where we can regroup. I’ve got a contact there who can make a few calls for us, maybe help figure out what’s going on.”
I reached into my bag and pulled out the unused phone and held it up. “Here, take it. It’s clean. Why don’t you make the call from here and save us some time.”
She smiled, shook her head. “He doesn’t work like that. Besides, this is a good place to take the dog.” She opened the door and stood in the doorway. “Come on, Jack. Let’s get going.”
I grabbed a bottle of water off the nightstand, leashed the dog, and followed Lexi into the snowy night. She took the wheel and drove us toward an unknown destination.
20
We drove through the remainder of the night with the radio buffering the silence between us. Every thirty minutes or so we alternated between Lexi’s eighties station, and my jazz station. She got a kick out of my choice, said she pegged me for a heavy metal fan. Maybe once upon a time, but these days I needed something to calm the nerves and take the edge off. Nothing did that like Coltrane.
I dozed off somewhere around four-thirty and woke up as the sun crested the horizon in front of us. Shielding my eyes against the sharp rays, I attempted to figure out where we were. The dull, flat landscape gave little away. We
’d ventured off the highway, traveling on country roads lined with dead cornfields.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Not far away,” Lexi said.
“Helpful.” I glanced out my window in a second attempt to pinpoint us on my mental map, but still came up empty. “Welcome to Anywhere, Mid-west, USA.”
“Pretty much.” She adjusted the radio dial from the fading station. “We’re just over the Illinois border about forty miles west of Indianapolis.”
I traced a route along a network of highways in my mind. “You went back through Chicago?”
She shook her head. “Straight south from Madison, then east at Bloomington. Got off I-74 about twenty minutes ago. Takes about an hour and a half longer, but I think that’s worth it to avoid Chicago. Even in the middle of the night all it takes is one person to spot you and it’d be over.”
“Sure, we’re more out in the open in the middle of the night. Fewer people on the road.”
“Right. Anyway, we should stop and get some coffee before we reach the house.”
She turned off a quarter-mile down the road, sped through a wooded area, and then pulled into the small parking lot of a diner that only had breakfast and lunch hours. A Ford F-250 and Chevy 2500 truck were the only vehicles parked in front. Two guys wearing jeans and flannel shirts sat at the counter with their backs to us. The woman working the line looked between them at us.
I pulled the door open for Lexi. Coffee and pancakes and syrup saturated the warm air that greeted us.
“Mornin’ folks,” the woman said.
The guy on the left looked over his shoulder at us, nodded once, looked away. His buddy didn’t bother.
We took two empty stools at the other end of the counter. A minute later the waitress came to take our order.
“Sure thought it was gonna be a warm one today with the way it heated up last night.” She wrapped her arms over her chest and shivered. “Guess that’s too much to ask for this time of year, though, huh?”