Irished (The Invincibles Book 7)

by Heather Slade

  “I reached out to Z Alexander, who located a brief indicating that his death was reported as friendly fire.”

  I pulled out a chair and sat down to take in what I’d just heard.

  “There was a witness,” Doc added. “Army Sergeant H.J. Harris.”

  “Herbert Harris? Xander’s father?” I asked.

  “It would appear so.”

  “Any other connection you can find between Kerr and either the father or the son?”

  “I had a buddy of mine run through what would now be considered ancient records, given they’re on microfiche, but we hit pay dirt,” said Razor. “Kerr traveled from the UK to the States the day of Harris’ funeral. He stayed in Maryland, where it was held, for two days before returning to London.”

  “Tell him what else you found,” said Gunner, slugging Razor’s arm.

  “Enigma Computers, who Xander went to work for after leaving the CIA, is ‘owned’ by a shell corporation—no big surprise there. However, I was able to ‘trace’ the money trail back to a holding company headquartered in Hong Kong.”

  There was no doubt in my mind that the emphasis he placed on the word traced in reality meant hacked. “And?”

  “Both Nicholas Kerr and Ming Shen-Lin were listed as majority shareholders.”

  “They’re makin’ this too easy,” said Gunner, who appeared to immediately regret his words. “My apologies, Irish.”

  “Not necessary, Gunner.”

  “A clear picture is beginning to appear,” said Burns. “Kerr found someone easily manipulated to do his bidding. Ming Shen-Lin as well.”

  I turned around and saw that the room had gone silent and many of those who had previously been seated at their own tables were now gathered around the one where Burns Butler was holding court.

  He motioned to Money to step forward. “While we may be able to piece together a likely scenario, the question foremost presenting itself is what our agenda will be even if we believe we uncover all the answers.”

  Money cleared his throat. “Since you’re asking me directly, you are aware the only answer I can give is an official one.”

  Burns nodded.

  “State would certainly have enough ammunition to propose a deal for Harris’ extradition. The announcement that they’ve granted him asylum is out of character for Beijing. It would be more like them to simply grant it without admitting to it.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Which means they already know what they want in exchange.”

  “Go on.”

  From where I sat, I had a clear view of Dr. Benjamin when he stood and approached the table. I expected him to speak, but he didn’t. He was, however, laser focused on Money.

  “The most obvious answer is Jinyan.”

  “Out of the question,” blurted Benjamin. All eyes turned toward him. “You cannot begin to consider such an exchange.”

  My eyes met Decker’s; he raised a brow.

  “Who is Jinyan?” asked Stella.

  Rather than continuing to look at Dr. Benjamin, most in the room turned to Burns, who turned to me.

  “Jinyan Yanli is a Hong Kong law professor and activist who was apprehended in what has been called the 701 Lockdown, during which more than three hundred ‘dissidents’ were arrested. The predawn raid took place on July 1, 1998—one year after the United Kingdom’s official handover of Hong Kong to China.”

  Burns motioned for me to go on.

  “After she spent ten years in an undisclosed detention center, tortured, and denied medical treatment for cancer, a human rights advocacy group appealed to the United Nations to intervene. She was eventually granted asylum in the US.”

  “She was tortured daily. Beaten close to death. They deprived her of sleep, withheld medication for both diabetes and cancer. She was blocked from receiving surgery and chemotherapy that may have saved her life.” Dr. Benjamin spoke softly, his voice taut with emotion, yet there wasn’t a person in the room who didn’t hear every word he said.

  “She has repeatedly asked that she be granted permission to return to Hong Kong so she may see her family once more before she dies,” said Money.

  “I’m sorry to be blunt, but if she is on her deathbed, why does China want her return?” asked Stella.

  “Because then they win,” said Gunner.

  Dr. Benjamin shook his head. “It isn’t Yanli they want.” His eyes filled with tears.

  Burns, whose eyes had been downcast, raised his head. “It’s her son they want.”

  I looked from him to Adam Benjamin. “Your son.”

  His head barely moved, but I saw him nod.

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “When was the last you saw him?” I knew the answer before he gave it.

  “Nine years ago.”

  “What if we brought him to her?” I asked.

  Money shook his head. “There would be no opportunity for negotiation for Harris if that were to happen.”

  “Let’s just go in and shoot the slimy bastard,” said Gunner.

  Both Doc and Money glared at him.

  “What?” he said, looking between the two. “You can’t tell me you’re unaware that assassinations take place every fucking day of the year, McTiernan. Let’s just be honest.”

  “Gunner,” warned Doc. “You know how this works.”

  “We can’t stop Yanli from going back to Hong Kong. If she makes that decision, it’s out of our hands,” said Money.

  “You can’t seriously be considering—”

  Doc held up his hand, interrupting Dr. Benjamin. “What he’s saying is if we want to make this negotiation, we have to act before she does.”

  Razor raised his hand. “Sorry to interrupt the current topic of conversation, but does the name Lam Shum mean anything to anyone?”

  “What’s the context?” Doc asked.

  “He was secretary-general of Interpol from 1997 to 2007.”

  “Is that a lengthy tenure?” asked Stella.

  Burns shook his head. “The position is appointed for a five-year term and may be reappointed once.”

  Razor was back to studying his computer. “According to their annual report, Interpol’s operational support, aka funding through private donations, increased more than fifty percent in 1998. Similar growth occurred over the next five years. It leveled out in 2003.”

  “Money laundering,” blurted Gunner.

  I agreed. “The timing is perfect, given the handover.”

  “It’s estimated that mainland China moves upwards of $100 billion in US dollars through Hong Kong annually,” said Money. “Although there have been decreases since the establishment of AML/CFT, or Anti-Money Laundering and Counter-Terrorist Financing Ordinance.”

  Gunner’s cough sounded more like “bullshit” than a hack.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” said Stella, causing all heads to turn in her direction. “All Kerr’s bullshit about voluntary contributions being funneled through Interpol keeping the intelligence community and entire governments from crumbling, how the world would stop spinning without men like him making the power plays behind the scenes, was really all just about money laundering? Not that I bought into his altruistic diatribe for a split second, but fuck, I want to kill him all over again.”

  “You raise a good point,” said Doc. “In terms of how he may have convinced Harris to ‘do his bidding,’ as someone else said. My guess is the young man became disillusioned by the agency, maybe even the government as a whole after we failed to take care of his father. Kerr swoops in, convinces him that Argead is dedicated to righting wrongs or whatever other bullshit he fed him. Even his ‘code name’ speaks to this. Xander, or Alexander the Great, believed himself to be the defender of the Argead.”

  Thoughts raced through my head. That first mission, when Dingo, 337, and Julius were gunned down, we’d been tasked with watching a Chinese-born Canadian national who was the kingpin of a drug network reportedly bringing in fifty
million dollars annually. The assignment wasn’t to bring him in. It was to figure out who in Hong Kong was laundering his money.

  “You knew about the hit,” I said, looking directly at Dr. Benjamin. “That’s why you were there that night. You and your son.”

  When he didn’t respond, I pushed back my chair. Burns put his hand on my arm.

  “It was a part of an investigation, in the same way you have been conducting your own,” said the doctor.

  “My investigation was to find out who was murdering my fellow agents. I don’t give a shit about who the fuck moves money where.” I was shouting and I didn’t care. “There is no goddamn greater good. These are human beings who have been murdered, their bodies left in the street in order to keep money flowing into the pockets of greedy power mongers.” I pointed at Money. “And the agency covered it up. Burned the missions like they never happened. Why? Because motherfuckers like Fisk, Flatley—God knows who else—were on the receiving end of that cash?”

  This time I did get up, but not to go after Benjamin. I stormed out of the room and out of the house.

  “Irish.” I heard Cope call my name, but I kept walking. “Paxon!” he shouted.

  I spun around. “You are no better,” I shouted. “You were going to let it happen to Malin Kilbourne. You were going to sacrifice her life as a means to an end. Fuck off, Cope!”

  I had no idea where Flynn might be. She said she was off today, which meant she could’ve left the ranch like she had earlier this morning. Not knowing where else to go, I walked over to the corral, stood by the fence, and watched the horses. I was shocked when the one I’d ridden the one and only time I’d been on horseback sauntered over to me.

  “I don’t have any treats for you today, buddy,” I said, rubbing his forehead like Flynn had taught me to do. He edged closer so the side of his face was right next to mine. It was the most natural thing in the world for me to lean into him. “Can’t tell you how much I needed that,” I said.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and immediately knew it was Flynn’s. I turned and pulled her into my arms.

  “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Manage to appear when I need you the most?”

  “You do the same for me.”

  “I do? I feel like this is one-sided.”

  “You were there when Trent called me a name in that bar. You were there to warn me away from that other guy. But mostly, Paxon, you were the first man who made me feel like I could be desired as a woman. There is nothing one-sided about what we do for each other.”

  Her mentioning Trent reminded me that Ink told me he’d been fired from the place in Redstone. He’d also muttered something about a broken nose that I chose not to follow up on for details.

  I shook my head, willing the memory away. I smiled at Flynn and looked into her eyes. “When we first met, I remember thinking I wished I could be ten years younger, just so I would be closer in age to you. Now I realize it would only make you another ten years wiser than I am.”

  “What happened in there?” She motioned toward the house with her head.

  “I have a different philosophy about life than most of the people I work with.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t believe in the greater good. I don’t believe a life should be sacrificed in order to save the many.”

  “And yet it’s how you live your own life.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have repeatedly put yourself in danger for the sake of those many. I don’t need to know the details of things you’ve done or been a part of since you went to work for the CIA. I still know you put your life on the line. Just like my brother Buck does. Probably everyone here in that room does.”

  “It’s different when you make the choice yourself than it is when the decision is made for you.”

  “Those other agents did make that choice, Paxon. It was their own sacrifice, not yours or anyone else’s on their behalf.”

  “I don’t want to, but I should return to the meeting.”

  Flynn reached up and kissed me. “My offer never expires. If you need me, you know how to reach me.”

  “Why are you so good to me?”

  “I think we already covered that. Now, go, so you can get done early enough that I can come to your cabin again tonight.”

  39

  Irish

  I could feel the tension in the room the moment I walked inside. It flowed particularly strong between Money and Dr. Benjamin. As I walked past their table, I made eye contact with both Emme and Lynx. Her furrowed brow led me to wonder if she was feeling the same thing I was.

  I walked to the front of the room and waited for conversations to die down before I spoke.

  “Thanks, everyone,” I began when heads that had been facing away turned in my direction. “I’d like to bring us back to a vector view and get out of the weeds if we can.”

  I saw heads nodding.

  “I can’t speak for anyone else, but since I began this ‘mission’—if you want to call it that—my personal mandate has remained the same: to find out why agents were being ‘killed in the line of duty’ at a rate that was exponentially higher than in previous years combined. Additionally, to get to the bottom of why those murders were being covered up by the CIA, the organization that the majority of the dead agents worked for. My personal mandate hasn’t changed.”

  “Nor mine,” said Cope when our eyes met.

  “To be honest, I don’t know that I thought much about the desired outcome besides stopping the carnage. Three months ago, when the initial rounds of arrests were made, I believed we caught the perpetrators and it was time to call the mission. It wasn’t long before I realized how wrong I was.” I took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

  “I’m in the same place today. I listen as new discoveries bring yet another piece that fits into the puzzle. It would be easy to name Xander Harris as the culprit, but that would be as naive as thinking this…this…Argead was taken down with Fisk, or Flatley before him.”

  My eyes met Burns’, and he nodded.

  “What we have to determine now, collectively, is what we believe the desired outcome to be. Who are the players that remain that we know about? The quick answer is Harris, Antonov, and Chen. We all know there are layers upon layers deeper than that. So again, what is the desired outcome?”

  “Why aren’t we revisiting a deal with Fisk?” asked Cope.

  “You’re thinking now that Kerr and Byrne are dead, he might be willing to talk? Antonov and Chen are still alive and well, the last I heard.”

  “I don’t know, Irish. I just think it might be worth another ask.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt anything,” said Doc.

  “I need to know you aren’t considering sacrificing Jinyan Yanli,” said Benjamin.

  “I don’t think we’ve made a determination either way,” said Money.

  “I must insist—”

  “As was just said, we haven’t made a determination either way.” As far as I was concerned, Dr. Benjamin was in no position to ask for anything. A case could be made that he was an accomplice to murder, given he admitted in front of a room full of people that he had been aware a hit was scheduled to take place and he stood by and watched it happen.

  “I have information that may influence the extradition of Harris.”

  My patience with Dr. Benjamin was wearing thin enough that deferring to someone else was necessary. “Decker?”

  He stood and walked toward the doctor. “Let’s get something straight. We are a combined team working toward a common goal. Either you are on this team, or you’re not. If you have an agenda that differs from that of the majority, you have no business being here.”

  When Saint stood, I anticipated things getting heated.

  “Before we go any further, let’s take a break. Decker, Dr. Benjamin, let’s take this conversation offline.”

  When Decker motioned us outside, Saint followed.

&n
bsp; “Irish? A moment?” he asked.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “I’d like a few minutes alone with Adam.”

  “It better be to tell him to either get with the program or get the fuck off this ranch,” I seethed.

  “It is neither, but I guarantee the same result.”

  I found his use of the word guarantee an interesting choice.

  “Decker, let’s give Saint and Dr. Benjamin a minute.”

  He looked at me like I had three heads, shook his, and then stalked inside with me following.

  “Can I be of any assistance?” asked Emme.

  I looked out the window to where the two men appeared to be in a heated debate. “I really don’t know.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Do you mean about the reason he’s so obsessed with what is happening in Hong Kong?”

  “Yes. He never let on.”

  “Did you expect him to?”

  She shrugged. “There were times I felt as though he was baring his soul. I suppose he was, just not enough that I could understand what he was trying to tell me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Essentially, what you said about his obsession with Hong Kong. My focus with China has always been single-minded, at least on a personal level. I want to put an end to the flow of pharmaceuticals and active ingredients from China into the United States. To the world, if I could influence it, but it has always been my goal to find a way to end our dependence on them for something that could so easily be used against us.”

  I knew Emme’s older brother had died from prolonged use and a subsequent fatal dose of fentanyl, and that upon his death, she vowed to everything she just reiterated.

  “Dr. Benjamin’s goals aren’t that different from mine. He wants to see change in a part of the world that will get far worse for anyone who is prodemocracy or speaks out against the Chinese government. I predict we will not see change for the good in our lifetime.”

  “It would’ve been nice if he communicated what he was doing or where he was going prior to leaving, but I suppose that’s too much for Saint to consider,” I said as I watched Saint and the doctor get into a vehicle.