Before long, my hand started dropping below the water line. I kicked harder, but my legs made no progress and my lungs screamed for air. I sank farther. My legs felt disconnected from my body, like they weren’t even there. I needed oxygen everywhere in my body. The burning torch had moved from my thighs to my chest. I felt like my chest was going to cave inward. If I drew a breath, however, it would be deadly for Simon and me.
As I kicked, the water took on a viscosity like quicksand. It felt like a thousand-pound weight was attached to my ankles, drawing me deep into the ocean’s depths. When I looked down at my legs, to will them to keep moving, Eva’s weight suddenly fell away.
I panicked. For a split second I thought she’d toppled off my hand. I didn’t see her body sinking, however, so I scrambled to the surface. I crawled through the water with my good arm and exploded through the water’s surface, gasping uncontrollably. Immediately I looked for Eva and Simon, frantically looking left and right.
They weren’t there.
I looked up and found them above me.
Mick held Eva under her arms, struggling to get her body onto the dock. My son’s head drooped forward, staring down at me with lifeless eyes.
Simon didn’t look like he was breathing, so I jumped out of the water and latched onto the dock with my good hand, but my body was dead weight, and I was exhausted. I couldn’t pull myself up with one arm, not a chance.
Fortunately, Mick helped. His face appeared over the dock’s edge a moment later. He grasped my forearm and yanked me up. I slithered onto the dock while Mick collapsed backward. I could see that Mick had been shot on the right side of his chest. A steady stream of blood poured from a clean bullet hole. He must have jumped to the left just as Eva pulled the trigger. If he hadn’t jumped left, he’d most likely be dead.
Mick motioned at his pocket. He struggled to speak and breathe. I realized his lung had probably collapsed.
“Pocket,” he said.
I coughed out the words: “Don’t talk, buddy, save your energy.” Then I scrambled over and pulled a knife from his pocket. Using my teeth to open it, I turned to Simon and cut him free from the duct tape.
Sirens wailed in the background. Fire cracked and popped behind us, as three of the four warehouse walls had toppled and were now in a raging blaze.
I pried Simon off Eva. “Help is coming, son. Wake up. Stay with me.” I straddled my son and started chest compressions. After five, I bent over and delivered a big breath.
Nothing. No response.
I did five more, then another breath.
Nothing.
Mick gurgled and coughed up a pile of blood.
Turning to Mick, I said, “Hang in there, pal, you’re going to make it.”
I turned my attention back to Simon and did five more compressions, then another breath.
No response.
“Damn it, breathe,” I yelled.
After the fourth breath, just as I pulled my lips away, Simon coughed and gurgled up water. I quickly turned him on his side.
As water poured from his mouth, I collapsed to his side and cradled him. When all the water was out, Simon coughed again.
I hauled him on top of me, chest to chest. I cradled his head and waited. Moments later, his eyes twitched and fluttered open.
Then I finally saw my son’s blue eyes, but only for a moment as tears burst from my own eyes, clouding my vision.
I smiled and grasped Simon with my good arm, maybe a little too hard. He coughed a few times, then placed his cheek to my chest.
The sirens were super loud now.
I squeezed Simon, vowing to never let him go. To never leave his side. To never let anything like this happen again. When I finally let up on my hug, my son pulled back and looked at me.
He cocked his head to the side, then smiled at me as only a cute three-year-old could.
He looked me square in the eye and said the two most beautiful words in the English language: “Hi, Dad.”
CHAPTER 37
Karla rapped on my front door, then barged in before I could say anything. I guess we had that type of relationship now.
“They buried it,” she stated, dropping the papers in her left hand onto my kitchen table. “They buried the entire story. Like it never even happened.”
I had just finished plunging a French press and was about to take a sip of good coffee. I hadn’t a decent cup in a couple of days. Hospital coffee wasn’t even slightly palatable.
“Of course they would,” I said. I took a quick sip of coffee. “We knew they would. It’s amazing what federal agencies can do when they actually work together. We are talking about the CIA and NSA after all. No way would they want a story aired about one of their own being a traitor.”
“I know, it’s just frustrating.” She grabbed one of the papers and waved it. “Our esteemed local paper. The warehouse fire made page three.”
She picked up another paper. “The LA Times has the story on page nine. Page nine! Can you believe that? I think it’s about a hundred words long. Here, read it.”
I’d been in the hospital the past two days and hadn’t seen a newspaper, so I took the paper and read the quick blurb. The article mentioned the old warehouse, that it was abandoned, and that the dock eventually went up in flames. Nothing about the dead body of an Italian henchman, of course. Or about a dead, corrupt NSA agent who had sold arms secrets to terrorists. According to the article, nobody was harmed. Nobody was even there when it burned down.
Karla pulled out a chair and took a seat. “When did they get to you?”
I thought for a moment. “Before the hospital, if you can believe it. They redirected the ambulances from Long Beach to a veteran’s hospital in South Orange County. They put Stanley, Mick, and me in the same hospital room after we got patched up. In fact, we had the whole wing to ourselves. They wanted to limit our exposure to the public as much as possible.”
“How do you think that happened so quickly? How did the feds know to contain you guys?”
“Gates. It had to be Gates. He was piecing everything together before he was murdered. He must’ve told someone else, one of his superiors probably. The Agency and The Company were on high alert after his murder.”
Karla nodded. “That has to be it. They had agents questioning me within hours. A couple of hours after that, they sent in some federal prosecutors. Hired NSA lawyers, I imagine. They gave me the riot act about national security and made me sign some confidentiality papers. I heard that those lawyers met with every single cop and fireman who showed up at the warehouse that night.”
“I’ve seen those same lawyers more than the Army doctor over the past two days.”
She reached across the table and touched my hand, held her own there. “How is your shoulder by the way?”
I shrugged my good side. “Apparently I get to use it again, so that’s good.”
She squeezed my hand. “What about Simon? Is he okay? You hear anything?”
I squeezed her hand and collapsed back into the chair. “Not directly. After a night in the hospital, he was stable, so they took him directly to his mother. The governor did me a solid, though, and visited Gina yesterday to try and smooth some things over.”
Karla winced. “How’d that go?”
“He said as good as can be expected.”
“What did he tell her?”
“Not much, because he couldn’t. He and I worked up a story before he went over. Just to keep up the pattern of lies, you know.”
I smiled to ease the pain, then continued. “He told her I was working on a case of national security interest and that a credible threat was made toward my family. That’s why I acted in haste, broke in, and took Simon for his protection, until the threat had abated. From her perspective, it explains the break-in and potential arson at my home. Of course, the story has tons of holes. The governor didn’t explain much more than that, citing confidentiality when she questioned him. You know how that goes.”
Karl
a nodded.
“It was the best we could come up with,” I said. “The truth, or any version of it, was worse.”
“So what about the custody hearing?”
“That was yesterday afternoon. The governor sent his lawyer in my place and requested a three-month extension, in light of my injuries during service.”
“How do you feel about that?”
I ran my hand over my head. “Good, I think. It gives some time for things to blow over, and maybe I can repair my relationship with Gina. That would be good before we stand in front of a judge. I’m hopeful for weekend visits back.”
Karla smiled. “You deserve it. I’ll be there at the hearing, to back up your story or for moral support, whatever you want, whatever you need.”
Before I could respond, a loud knock rattled my front door.
“Chase, it’s Frank.”
Frank? What was he doing here?
I looked at Karla. She shrugged.
“Come in,” I said.
My boss steamed into the house. “I’m going to make you buy a cellphone, Chase.” He held up his phone. “This is ridiculous.”
“What’s going on?” I said.
“Stanley Tuchek is what’s going on.” Frank glanced at Karla and smiled. “Good morning to you, Agent Dickerson. Or maybe you two is what’s going on. Good thing you two work at different offices.” He waved his hand between us. “That way this isn’t a problem.”
Karla blushed right away.
My face went hot too.
Frank turned his attention to me. “Apparently Stanley’s being released from the hospital.”
“So?” I said, not sure I wanted to spend any more time with Stanley, ever.
Frank waved his phone. “He’s called three times. He wants me to get you to come pick him up. He wants to go to his coffee shop.”
I held out my hands. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m not,” Frank said.
“No way,” I said, crossing my arms.
Frank pushed up his sleeves and leaned on the table. “We’re doing it, Chase. We’ll all go together. I’ll buy the coffee and we’ll debrief a bit. That’s a direct order, by the way.”
“Come on,” Karla said. “You and Stanley need to talk it out anyway.”
I looked at Karla. “You sound like my ex-therapist.” I turned to Frank. “And you’re acting like my boss. But last time I remember I was suspended.”
“True, but not anymore.” Frank pulled out my service piece and handed it to me.
After that, he dug out a new badge and extended it my direction. “You’re back in.”
I didn’t take it. “You’re assuming I want back in.”
He scoffed. “What else would you do?”
I motioned at my kitchen. “I’m a decent cook. Maybe I’ll open a beachfront restaurant and cook for a living. Something low-key like that.”
Karla laughed, walked over, and hauled me up by my good shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.” She made her way out the door.
Frank flipped the badge at me.
I caught it.
While Frank followed Karla out the door, I turned the badge over and over in my hand, wondering what to do. Wondering what was best, not for me, but for my son.
A minute later, Frank honked the horn, which snapped me from my daze. I pocketed the badge and headed out the door.
Still unsure what I was going to do.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
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