Collateral Damage

by P A Duncan

  “That’s why I want to find him. To make sure he’s all set, you know, for that thing in April.”

  Parker’s eyes narrowed more in curiosity than suspicion. Either he was good at hiding his feelings, or he had no clue.

  “Look, he’s my brother’s buddy. I’ve hired him a couple times to work here, but we’re not close. Good luck finding him. He’s got to keep moving so the jackboots can’t grab him and detain him without charge. A guy like Jay, who knows the truth, is too dangerous for the government to let stay free.”

  “Jay has my phone number. If you happen to talk to him, ask him to call me. Tell him I’ll come see him any time, anywhere.”

  Parker shrugged. “Sure. If he calls, I’ll pass that along.”

  Sure you will, she thought. She wished him good night and crossed the snow-crusted lawn to the Suburban. Once out of sight of the house, Mai stopped and waited for Alexei to return to the front seat. She related the conversation, and he laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She peered into the darkness, hands clutching the steering wheel.

  “One place left.” She braced herself for the argument.

  “Yes. Back to Killeen, but we sleep first. It’s only three days to the anniversary, and I’m beat. So are you. We can only go so far on adrenaline before one of us wrecks this beast.”

  17

  Routines

  Somewhere

  John Carroll had grown tired of motels and safe houses. The motels were cheap but lonely, even when Prophet joined him, but he preferred them over the safe houses.

  Carroll had never felt comfortable in strangers’ homes. People treated him and Prophet like celebrities, and that embarrassed Carroll. He was a soldier on a mission. Nothing more.

  He often lost track of where he was and was glad for Prophet’s itinerary—and his meth supply. More potent than Lamar’s home-cooked stuff, it had him hyper to the point that the motel rooms were useless. He rarely slept, but day after day, night after night, he sat in them, television playing and the Do Not Disturb sign outside the door.

  In the latest room, he did doze and woke with a head clear enough to recognize the date.

  February 28.

  Two years ago, the ATF had descended on Calvary Locus.

  Today was the beginning of the end: of the planning, of his uselessness; today was the beginning of a new purpose.

  That purpose had pushed him from motel to motel, house to house, enduring Prophet’s religious drivel. Prophet thought he controlled Carroll’s every thought and action, but Carroll spent his waking moments remembering every encounter with Siobhan. When Prophet wasn’t with him, Carroll called the Boston number and listened to her voice, masturbating afterward amid a fantasy that she’d found him. When he stayed at a house or a motel with a computer and access to the Web, he’d search news sites for mentions of arrests of illegal immigrants, terrified he’d see her name, joyful when he didn’t. To keep Siobhan and his sister safe, he worked hard to convince Prophet of his obedience.

  He had no regrets at taking this on. His personal comfort, he’d put aside until he was done. Unlike some of Prophet’s followers, he didn’t want fame. He wanted justice. This was like being at war again, with a clear strategic objective. Afterward, he could have a life with the woman who cared for John Carroll, not Prophet’s tool.

  A news show on television showed clips from the ATF raid on Calvary Locus. Carroll wept over what had happened fifty days later. He wept because he was alone in a hotel room somewhere he couldn’t remember, because he couldn’t tell Siobhan where he was, because they’d parted badly. He wept with joy when he imagined their reunion. Those were the last tears he would shed.

  He took a notepad and an envelope from his duffel. At the minuscule table in the tiny room, he poised a pen over the paper and gathered his thoughts. He began as he always did.

  “Dearest Siobhan.”

  Calvary Locus

  Killeen, Texas

  On the eve of the anniversary, Mai and Alexei arrived in Killeen and checked into a hotel. Alexei ordered room service and a bottle of wine, but Mai wouldn’t be budged from dipping into chat rooms and forums in between phone calls with Analysis.

  “He’s a bloody ghost,” she murmured.

  Alexei took her hands off the keyboard and held them.

  “Come to bed,” he said. “It’s after midnight. Let me make love to you, and we’ll both get a good night’s sleep.”

  “You’ll have to knock me out for me to sleep tonight.”

  “Don’t tempt me. Come to bed. It’ll be worth your while.”

  “Alexei, I have one more day. Let me use it.”

  He kissed her neck. “Never let it be said I go back on my promises.” He went to bed alone.

  On February 28, they found Calvary Locus crowded with visitors. To raise money to rebuild, the surviving People of the Eternal Light had set up tables to sell tee-shirts, bumper stickers, and commemorative photos. Others sold coffee and donuts in the morning, hamburgers, hot dogs, and soft drinks from noon on. Local news stations had sent reporters and remote trucks. A few national correspondents milled about, snatching sound bites for the evening news.

  “Maybe I could be interviewed,” Mai said.

  Alexei stopped chewing whatever disgusting concoction he’d bought from one of the food vendors. “Why?”

  “Jay’s probably watching TV today. If he sees me here…”

  “Likely, the only person who’d recognize you is Natalia, who’ll want to know why you’re calling yourself Siobhan Dochartaigh.”

  “Well, it was a thought.”

  More people arrived throughout the morning, prepared to stay for the day. An ambulance and EMTs waited nearby, as did a contingent of state police and sheriffs. A dozen chemical toilets were a welcome sight.

  Mai scanned the faces of tall men in the crowd. “What’s the plan if he shows?” she asked.

  “You’re finally interested?”

  “I always assumed we’d find him where we had access to police.”

  “I have a new drug from R&D. One little prick and it mimics the symptoms of dehydration. We’ll load him in the Suburban and head for the nearest Directorate safe house, in Dallas, by the way, for the mother of all interrogations.”

  A smile touched her lips. “An old-fashioned bag and grab.” She may have sighed. “Jay may be at the point where he can’t see government employees as innocents. He might regret the death of people he sees as pawns but accept those deaths under his rules of engagement. He probably feels he’s the only soldier in the fight. Parker’s focused on keeping his marriage together. Duval has another baby on the way. I’m sure he thinks I’ve abandoned him, too.”

  Alexei opened his mouth, but she held up a hand.

  “No need to remind me he left me. He’s likely turned that about in his head,” she said.

  “You played your part as best you could. You were what he should have needed. You stuck by him, supported him…” Alexei cleared his throat. “Gave him physical attention, which I don’t want to remember. I had hoped…”

  His silence made her look at him. “What?”

  “I’d hoped he’d miss you enough to come out in the open.”

  She resumed looking at the crowd. “Well, he didn’t.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. By now, Prophet is his near-constant companion, and he won’t let Carroll focus on anything personal. He’ll feed Carroll’s ego that he’s some sort of revolutionary.”

  “I know it’s comparable to how we turn people and recruit assets, but holding that much sway over another person is…beyond peculiar. Like a shared delusion.”

  “The way he’s likely living right now reinforces that delusion. Slipping from place to place, eluding the ‘them’ he’s convinced are following him, using fake names and IDs. The longer he goes without being found, he’s convinced he’s untouchable, unreachable.”

  Mai sighed again. “That he’s duped his evil king.”

  “And all boosted by meth
. He’s probably reached the point where he believes his act of revenge will bring him acceptance.”

  Mai nodded. “The little boy who worried about having enough food for a blizzard will come full circle to a man who sees his only redemption in a hell of his own creation.”

  Alexei looked at his wife, his partner. When had his gloomy Russian pessimism transferred to her? Another brick on his conscience: He’d turned a bright, trusting young woman into a stone-cold spy.

  They remained silent until the sun dipped low, making long shadows of the few remaining diehards. Mai slid down from the rear of the Suburban and went to the passenger side of the SUV. Her closing the door had a finality to it. Alexei waited well into twilight, until a state trooper motioned for him to leave. When he drove away, Mai turned away from him, and he could see only a murky reflection in the side window.

  “You were right,” she said. “Add that notch to your pistol grips.”

  “Mai, this was never about my being right.”

  “Wasn’t it?”

  “No. It was about saving lives.”

  “That’s unlikely now.” She looked at him, her dark eyes hard and unrelenting. “Don’t you dare say it.”

  Somehow she knew he’d been prepared to say she’d had the means to stop whatever was going to happen in fifty days, but he decided silence was the lesser evil.

  18

  Homeward

  Alexei shook Mai awake at dawn. Nothing more than that. She sat on the side of the bed, her back to him, and said nothing. She showered; he packed his bags. She packed her bags; he showered. After they dressed, she took the bags to the Suburban while Alexei checked out. When he climbed into the SUV, he had coffee and croissants from the continental breakfast offerings. He drove, and she divvied their breakfast. He devoured his, and she picked at hers.

  Alexei had planned as direct a route as possible back to northern Virginia and estimated they could make it in two days. They stopped at a motel in Nashville, with Mai spending most of the night on the laptop while Alexei slept in fits and starts. The morning was a repeat of when they left Killeen. When they passed Roanoke, Virginia, Mai spoke for the first time.

  “I’ve given something a great deal of thought,” she said, her tone suppressing any flippancy he might dare. “When we get back, we need to brief the government and submit our proposal. We need the FBI, in particular, to accept our plan.”

  “President Randolph did promise a fair hearing,” Alexei said.

  “Someone the FBI deems credible has to deliver that briefing.”

  His curiosity piqued now, he said, “Of course.”

  “You should do it. Alone.”

  “We’re partners. We’ll brief them together.”

  “If so, it’ll fail.”

  “Where’s this coming from, Mai?”

  “Alexei, Emmet Brasseau won’t believe me. I’m a non-traditional woman in his eyes, and I wasn’t deferential to him.”

  “You were you. That may not conform to his idea of bureaucratic hierarchy, but I don’t have a problem with that.”

  “Yes, well, as you say, you sleep with me. Federal law enforcement is still dominated by conservative males.”

  “Sheryl Vejar may have something to say about that.”

  “Whose advice will she take to Randolph? The FBI’s. I don’t want to take a chance Brasseau won’t listen. You do the briefing.”

  He drove on for a while, eyes fixed on the road, as he thought about how to respond. He went with his gut.

  “Mai, I’m the senior partner, but this mission you were the primary. You identified the subject, it was your research, your profiling. You know John Carroll’s head better than he knows it himself. My exposure to him is too limited.”

  “That’s no excuse, Alexei. You’re a quick study.”

  “This is bullshit.”

  “I want the buggers to be convinced, Alexei. If I conduct the briefing and propose a plan of action, Brasseau will be dead-set against it, and the ATF will follow his lead. Alexei, I’ve mulled this over for two days. Yes, I always see everything through, but this is too important. I can’t risk Brasseau’s rejecting our proposal without due consideration. You said it. People’s lives depend on the decisions about to be made, and if another member of the testosterone club has to brief them while the little woman stays at home, I accept that. I’ll even pack your lunch in a wee brown bag and kiss you on your way.”

  In spite of himself, he smiled at that image. “You could be with me to answer questions.”

  “Alexei, you can answer the bloody questions. I need to be out of the picture to assure success.”

  His fingers tapped the steering wheel, and he ventured a glance at her. “And while I’m briefing, where will you be?”

  “Not hunting for Jay. You gave me my time, and I failed.”

  “Mai, you haven’t failed. This was a long shot at best.”

  “It feels like failure. All that time, and I didn’t learn one vital piece of information. Such a bloody simple piece—where. If I were a whore, I could have gotten it out of him.”

  “Mai…”

  “I feel so impotent, as if I couldn’t spy out a cheating husband. That’s a generic reference, by the way. No, you give the briefing, they buy into our plan, and we, along with the FBI and ATF, will have a month to find John Carroll.”

  “Mai, I know your feminism is important to you, and I know what it took for you to reach this conclusion. It feels like you’re compromising your principles.”

  Exactly what he’d wanted her to do when she had a gun on John Carroll and didn’t pull the trigger.

  “Gloria Steinem may ask me to turn in my NOW card, but I want the government’s buy-in for our plan. If that means I have to distance myself, I’ll live with it, my feminism intact.”

  And what if I can’t convince them either, he thought but didn’t voice. “One condition,” he said. “You prepare every word of the briefing, and I’ll deliver it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Time to lighten things. “You know I can refuse you nothing.”

  “Will you wear a tie?”

  “Why do I have to look the bureaucrat?”

  “You can’t go in looking like a suave, super-spy. Vejar may swoon, but the men will be jealous. Also, no Savile Row.”

  “I thought I dressed well.”

  “You do,” she said, “though I prefer the undressed version.”

  “Flattering, but that won’t do a thing for Randolph.”

  “Unless you’re trailer trash with big hair.”

  The knot in Alexei’s stomach loosened with the return of her sense of humor. “How long to prep the briefing?” he asked.

  “I’ve a beefy outline here,” she said, tapping her temple. “Next Tuesday. Nelson should give it national security status so the principals will clear their calendars for it.”

  “And if they ask the pertinent question?”

  “Why we don’t know where? Endear yourself to Brasseau and tell him the girl fucked up.”

  “I’d rather say our limited resources requires their expertise.”

  “Alexei, for God’s sake, don’t suck up to the bastards. Tell them I fucked up.”

  “I won’t say that about my wife.”

  “Your wife didn’t fuck up. Your partner did. Besides, President Randolph doesn’t know we’re married.”

  He wondered how that topic had arisen in a Presidential briefing. “By the way, in case I haven’t said so lately,” Alexei said. “I love you.”

  “One thing has always been certain, Alexei. You’re the only person in this business I can count on.”

  Mai stared out the window again, a cue she wanted to retreat back inside her own head. For now, he’d let her.

  Somewhere

  In the middle of the porno he masturbated to, the phone rang.

  “Shit,” said John Carroll. He muted the movie but didn’t bother to put his penis back inside his underwear. “Yeah?” he answered.

&n
bsp; “It’s Prophet.”

  Carroll bottled his sigh. These pep talks were beyond monotonous. “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you get the message I left you at check-in?”

  “Yes.” Another itinerary, outlining every moment of his life for the next several weeks.

  “Any questions?” Prophet asked.

  “No.”

  “Stay on top of Duval and Parker. Make sure they’re on board.”

  “I’ve spoken with them both.”

  “Are you making sure they haven’t backed out?”

  Carroll rolled his eyes. “As best I can.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They’ve both got family issues.”

  “So? What’s that got to do with your mission?”

  “Lamar has a baby on the way. Jerry’s family—”

  “I don’t give a fuck. The personal has to be put aside. I thought you were aware of this.”

  Oh, I’m aware, Carroll thought, I dumped the only woman ever interested in me. “I’ve done exactly what you wanted me to do.”

  “Make sure Parker and Duval understand. If they’re not with you on the day, it’ll be hell to pay.”

  Carroll watched the movie, where a red-haired woman gave a blow job to one man while another fucked her from behind. His free hand drifted back to his penis.

  “Yeah. Sure. I’ll stay on them,” he murmured.

  “Here’s what you’ll do. If they don’t do their part, you start killing their families.”

  Carroll’s erection went flaccid. “What?”

  “You tell them that, and you back it up. I don’t care which you kill, their whores or their mongrels, but you’ll kill one of them if you don’t get cooperation.”

  “What does any of that have to do with my mission?”

  “Parker and Duval are part of the mission. If they can’t help, they suffer the consequences.”