Authors: Connie Suttle
We found two of the three remaining bombers. That meant one
was not identified as yet, or had gotten out alive. "You think he may have
been the one who detonated the others?" August speculated.
"I don't know," I said, allowing my shoulders to
slump as I sat at my computer. "These three didn't really know what was
going on. They were tricked into believing they could get away after dropping
their bombs off in toilets and such."
"One bomb did go off in a toilet," August blinked at
me. "The explosives were portable, potent and likely hidden in clothing,
on their person or in bags. Certainly not visible or apparent, unless you had
dogs or some other form of detection. The toilet bomber walked right into a
bathroom and left his package there. Probably locked the door behind him, so
nobody else would find it before he could get away."
"Then he either got spooked or coordinated
everything," I said. Auggie muttered
fuck
again. I shook my head as
I stared at the photo of the third bomber. He was young—barely seventeen. I
wanted to throw up.
"I'll send this information to Rafe and our departmental
contacts," August rose from his seat. "I'll let you know if I get
more, later."
"Thanks, Auggie."
"Cori, I should be saying that to you."
"Yeah."
* * *
"Look, I'll get the information to the proper
authorities," the British Prime Minister promised the President. "If
I hadn't had firsthand experience with what she can do, I wouldn't believe it
myself."
"You'll find it accurate," President Sanders agreed.
"We don't have the fourth bomber because we didn't have complete
information from our sources."
"Understood. If I have anything else, I'll send it your
way. We want these people caught quickly. It's a black eye against my
government."
"It isn't just yours," the President admitted.
"Trust me, others have been hit; they're just not aware of it yet."
"That's alarming."
"It is. Let me know if there's anything else we can
do."
"I certainly will. Thank you for the information."
* * *
Ilya
I was met by a CIA operative working in the UK. The location
chosen was a pub on the Royal Mile, far enough away that we could get in and
out without drawing interest from guards and local authorities scattered behind
numerous barricades. Nobody was allowed to approach the castle without permission.
With help from the Prime Minister through the President, I was
about to have permission. I would also have a companion—the CIA wanted in, too.
My contact identified himself as Gerald Nelson and didn't suspect I was
anything except an American who worked for a separate agency.
He watched me with cautious scrutiny while I finished my coffee.
I was resolved to send a photograph of my CIA confederate to Corinne soon. I'd
learned early never to trust anyone.
That's when the text came. Pulling out my phone, I read the
message. The cabbie in Dublin had been shot dead in his cell. Nobody had seen
anything, or so they'd claimed.
Hunter had told me what Corinne said about the man—that he
might not live long. Likely, someone didn't fancy him talking about some of his
activities. Too bad he'd already talked to me; it just wasn't on record. It
made me wonder if Mary Evans had returned to Dublin after her assignment in
Edinburgh was completed.
"Ready?" I asked, standing abruptly.
"Whenever you are," Nelson rose from his seat.
"Let's take a look at bombed rubble, shall we?"
* * *
Corinne
"What can you tell me about this one?"
"Auggie?" I took the printed photograph from him.
"Just curious."
"Okay." I studied the man. "He isn't using his
real name. Works for a government agency. Somebody wants info from him
bad." I stood in alarm. "Auggie, get Rafe away from this guy. He's
connected to Cutter."
August was on the phone so fast he was a blur.
* * *
"The President wants us on a plane to Scotland
tonight," August said. He'd run out of my office earlier to report his
findings to the President. He was back, now, James right behind him. "Pack
your bags, Cori. We'll be out of here the minute you're done."
* * *
I remembered the last time I'd been on a flight to Europe. My
ankles had swollen, I hadn't been able to sleep and I felt miserable from jet
lag for two days. Back then, I hadn't been to Scotland. It wasn't on the
itinerary.
Now it was, only I didn't think for a moment that any touristy
things were on the agenda. I was going there to study the one currently known
as Gerald Nelson, CIA. This time, Dr. Leo Shaw sat next to me on a military
jet, while James sat across the aisle and Auggie had a row to himself farther
back so he could work on his laptop. None of that happened during my last trip,
either.
"Are you all right?" Leo asked. "Do you need
anything?"
"I'm fine," I assured him. "Will Maye and Nick
be okay while we're gone?" Jeff, Maye's handler, was doing double duty,
taking Nick on after Preston's death. He had his hands full—Nick liked
Preston—a lot. He was so angry with Becker and Gene for causing Preston's death
that he might explode, too. He and Maye needed a distraction—in the worst way.
"The President has a function—they'll be there in the
background and away from cameras," Leo replied. "We'll be in contact
with the President and Vice President if there's anything you should see."
"Good enough," I sighed.
"Corinne, what troubles you the most in all this?"
"That we won't find the one behind all this in
time," I said.
"Will you tell me why you were reluctant to come to us
with your abilities earlier?"
"I wasn't needed by the Program before. Living on the
outside let me get research done that I can't do inside the walls."
"I think we might be able to lift restrictions on much of
that, now. I'll speak with Colonel Hunter and the President."
"That would be nice, as long as I know the people who
will be checking on my research."
"You need to see them?"
"Yes."
"I see. Is there anything you might tell me about
Becker?"
"Becker is being brainwashed and Gene is being paid.
Becker is a tool in the hand of the enemy, now. Even killing him won't mitigate
the harm he can do. They'll just preserve his body to get what they want."
Leo stared at me for several seconds, as if he were
considering how I knew what I did. "I'll go speak with Colonel Hunter immediately."
He unbuckled the seatbelt and heaved himself out of the narrow chair beside
mine.
* * *
Notes—Colonel Hunter
"Shaw?" I moved my laptop bag so he could sit beside
me.
"Corinne says Becker is a tool in the hands of the enemy,
now."
"That's what the President and the rest of us are afraid
of."
"I believe her. She says it doesn't matter if he
dies—they'll preserve his body to get what they want."
"Fuck. I didn't realize Cutter knew so much."
"He likely has spies everywhere. Gene probably spilled
everything he knew."
"Do you remember the nurse who gave Corinne too much
medication the first night she was at the Mansion?"
"She died in the explosion."
"I think we should research her background—bank accounts
and such."
"Can we do it from here?"
"I'll start the process now. James!"
* * *
Corinne
The moment Auggie yelled for James, I pulled the jacket I'd
brought with me around my shoulders, leaned back and closed my eyes. They could
do part of my research for me while I slept.
* * *
Notes—Colonel Hunter
"Look what we have here." James handed his tablet to
me. A photograph was displayed. I recognized both people in the picture. Nurse
Shelbi Oaks and Gerald Nelson, CIA—having dinner at an upscale restaurant two
months earlier. She'd posted it on social media, probably without Gerald's
knowledge or consent.
Corinne said Nelson was connected to Cutter. Now, Shelbi Oaks
was likely connected to both. Too bad she was dead—I wanted to question her
myself.
"Deposits from us and from another source were found in
her bank accounts—regular deposits."
"James, I want to know if she was ever responsible for
drawing blood from anyone in the Program." Shoving down the panic that
threatened, I waited for James to search medical records. At least we still had
those—the database wasn't kept at the Mansion for security reasons.
"Twice," James confirmed. "The first time eight
months ago, the second, four months ago."
"Fuck. Cutter may have had information long before he
came on board as Secretary of Defense."
"It's likely they only had a small amount—an attending
would notice if too much blood was drawn. They might have stolen enough to get
a taste, but not enough to do research. Until they got their hands on Becker,
anyway," Shaw said.
"What are they hoping to do, Colonel?" James looked
worried.
"It could be any number of things. Don't panic until we
have a better handle on this, all right?"
"Perhaps we should send Maye and Nick after Becker,"
Shaw suggested. "It would have been better with Kevin and Ken, but we may
be able to find someone nearly as good to track information for them."
"It's a thought. Maye is decent, but she lacks the
intuition the brothers had. I'll get this to the President, and she'll make the
final decision."
* * *
Corinne
The trip to the designated hotel didn't take long after we landed.
Jet lag affected all of us, but there was some hope I might see Rafe. That kept
me going. What I didn't expect was that Rafe had the one calling himself Gerald
Nelson tied up in his hotel room.
I studied him while August pulled up a photograph of Gerald
and nurse Shelbi on his tablet. "Recognize this?" he said pleasantly,
shoving the tablet in Gerald's face.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he
snapped.
"It's difficult to deny involvement when the evidence is
right in front of you. We've checked this for authenticity. The waiter
remembers taking the photograph for your girlfriend, Shelbi. You didn't want a
photograph taken; she had him do this from a distance so you wouldn't know. Too
bad you didn't tell her why she shouldn't take pictures and post them on the
Internet. We also have reliable information that places you in General Cutter's
camp. Would you like to discuss why that's a problem?"
"He won't, because he arranged to have the Vice President
killed and the bomb stuffed inside his casket," I said.
"Who the fuck are you?" Gerald turned to me and
hissed. Rafe, who stood close by, backhanded him. Hard.
Four hours later, I studied the men chosen to escort Gerald
back to the U.S. Gerald chose not to implicate anyone else, and wanted a
lawyer. The money trail wasn't pretty, though. Some of it was traced through
business concerns, all of which were against the current U.S. government.
The guards were all right—at least for the trip back, but like
the cabbie from Dublin, I didn't have high hopes for Gerald's continued
survival.
Anybody who had any connection to any of this died after their
arrest. "Enjoy your flight," I nodded to Gerald as he was escorted
toward the plane we'd brought to Edinburgh.
"Corinne, what will happen to him?" August asked as
Gerald's shackles were checked before he was loaded onto the plane.
"They'll kill him," I said. "After he
lands."
"Do you know who?"
"I haven't seen them, yet."
"Cabbage?" Rafe's arms came around me as we watched
the plane begin to taxi down the runway.
"Honey?" I turned my head to look at him.
"Thank you for coming." He leaned down to kiss me.
Chapter 12
Corinne
We were allowed to sleep for seven hours before rising. A trip
to the bombed castle was on our agenda for the day. Rafe and I spent the night
together, and we'd probably slept for five hours. Maybe five and a quarter; I
wasn't looking at the clock. We met Auggie, James and Leo for breakfast before
our departure. We received the news while we ate.
Gerald was shot in the head during his transfer to a designated
holding facility. The gunman shot himself immediately after. The assassin had
no identification on him, and like those who'd tracked Rafe and me at the mall,
nobody could figure out who he was.
The problem? He was identical in every way to the twins who'd
tracked Rafe at the mall, right down to the fingerprints. It's as if someone
made a photocopy of the first one to make the second and then a third. Sadly, all
three were dead. "Auggie, have they run tests on these people?" I
asked.
"I believe someone is working on that," he hedged.
"What are they finding?"
"That's classified, Cori. Even I don't know."
"But you know something's up, don't you?"
"That is the indication," he agreed. "Eat. We
have to leave in ten minutes." I went back to my scrambled eggs and
grilled tomatoes.
* * *
"We're attempting to save as much as we can to
rebuild," our guide informed us as we walked around a pile of mangled
cannons. The cannons used to line a stone wall. That wall was now rubble, barely
guarding a precipice that someone could tumble over easily and fall to the
courtyard far below.
Past that and below the castle remains lay Edinburgh, which
was clouded in a light mist. Fog lay over the water in the distance. I could
see a clock tower rising at the side of a tall, stone building below the castle
and in between, a dark church spire surrounded by other buildings—many built
centuries earlier. The castle walls still standing were built of pale and dark-gray
stones intermingled with browns and near-blacks. I wished I could have seen it
whole.
Rafe placed himself between me and the edge of the blasted
wall. "I don't plan to jump, honey," I mumbled.
"I wouldn't let you," he replied. "Let's go. It's
wet and you're cold. Besides, there are other things to do and people to
see."
A meeting of guards and employees had been arranged to discuss
the rebuilding efforts, memorial services and the theft of the crown jewels. I
was there to study the people attending.
Auggie—that one. The young woman in the gray trench on the
third row
, I sent to him. I'd quickly scanned the crowd after they'd taken
their seats. August nodded to me before pulling our guide toward the door for a
private discussion. She had no idea what was in store for her.
* * *
Ilya
"I sneaked her into a private wedding party held at the
castle a week before the bombing," she wept. "I thought she cared
about me. She visited with me several times in the last four months."
"I believe she led you on," Colonel Hunter said. We
sat in a private office near the castle gate while the young woman, identified
as Alynne Nicholls, was questioned.
I'd insisted that Corinne wait outside with Dr. Shaw and
James—in case the woman didn't cooperate. "This woman was also connected
to the thefts in London, when the Tower was breached," Colonel Hunter
continued.
"I'm so sorry," fresh tears fell. "I had no
idea she wanted to destroy the castle. I love my job here."
That job had already evaporated. "Where is she now? Have
you had contact with her?" I demanded.
"No. She broke up with me."
I wanted to curse. I didn't. Mary Evans wasn't above using
anything at her disposal to get what she wanted, including emotional
attachments with others.
"What information did you get from her—anything personal?
Did she say where she was from?"
"She said Amsterdam, but she traveled a lot for her
work."
"And what was that?"
"She said she was a magazine photographer. She had a nice
camera and equipment."
"I'll bet she did," Alynne's supervisor exploded.
"She took fucking photos of the castle so she could bomb the hell out of
it. And you let her, without notifying me or anyone else."
"She gave me this," Alynne pulled a business card
from her purse. "I carry it with me all the time."
"Did you ever call this number?" Colonel Hunter
examined the business card. It had a name and contact information on it—Denna
Philpot with TravelGlobe Magazine.
"Yes, but I always had to leave a message."
"Good. We'll take this. Is there anything else you can
tell me about her?"
"She likes Mexican food."
"Favorite restaurants?" I asked.
"The one on Cockburn street—I can't remember the name.
She always paid cash. I never saw her use a credit card."
"We'll talk to the staff there, then." I was done
with her. She'd be arrested, but I had no idea what would happen to her. It
wouldn't hurt to have her watched, however.
"I'll have the President's office communicate with local
authorities," Colonel Hunter nodded to Alynne's supervisor. "This
woman is likely in danger, just because she spoke with us."
"I'll be waiting for that call," he said. We walked
out. I wanted to pull Corinne close—I felt we were being watched but could find
no overt evidence of it.
Ilya, I don't feel safe
. I heard her message clearly as
I walked toward her.
"Get us out of here," I barked at Colonel Hunter
while grasping Corinne's hand. The office building blew up behind us as we
raced through the door.
* * *
Corinne
The fifth explosion at the castle was all over the news, but
there were only two casualties—Alynne and her supervisor. Our presence in the
same building was carefully edited from any newsfeeds, via instructions from
London.
Somehow, the bomb had been strategically planted in the lining
of Alynne's purse to take care of her if she were caught and questioned. The
information we had was quickly transferred to London and then to the U.S.,
while the source of the bomb was identified. Alynne, who was mostly innocent,
would take the blame for everything. That news was already splashed across
televisions worldwide.
Copies of the business card was passed to other departments
for further study while we piled into Rafe's latest safe house. It only had two
bedrooms, so that could pose a problem.
Yes, I was shaky. I hated that, but we'd had too close a call.
Neither person in that office knew of the bomb, leaving me mostly blind to its
presence. Rafe felt uneasy eventually, just as I did, so he acted quickly,
shoving us out the door and onto the stone courtyard, where we were knocked
flat from the blast behind us.
"Cabbage, your nose is bloody and there are bruises
everywhere," Rafe pointed out when we walked wearily into the safe house.
"You didn't come out of it unscathed," I pointed
out. "Nobody did."
"Look, there are two bathrooms; who wants to go first? First-aid
kits are in both," Rafe said.
"James, why don't you go?" I said, offering one of
the bathrooms. James had a nasty cut on his chin and his shirt was hanging in
shreds from his right arm. "I can help with the cuts after you clean up if
you want."
"I'll take the help," he nodded.
"Auggie, take the other one. You don't look so good,"
I said, nodding to him. "I still think you ought to have that cut on your
arm sutured."
"I'll find bandages," Leo offered. Of all of us,
he'd been in the front and gotten the least of the blast. "Corinne, I'll
take care of James after he showers; I'm worried about his wrist. Meanwhile,
you and Rafe should let me know if anything needs attention."
"I'm okay, I think," I replied. "Just shaky as
usual. Rafe?" I turned to him, then.
"I'm as well off as you—probably better," he said.
"I just want a shower soon, that's all."
* * *
Ilya
I'd landed atop Corinne, so she'd hit her head on the
courtyard stones. That's where the bloody nose had come from. I'd shielded our
backs, therefore it was our fronts that received the damage.
"Cabbage, come into the kitchen; I'll clean your
face," I offered.
"Well, since you can see it and I can't," she
shrugged.
"Let me know if you need help," Dr. Shaw said as I
led Corinne toward the small kitchen sink.
"Now," I said, pulling a clean kitchen towel from a
drawer and turning on the taps. "Let's see how bad this nose is."
"I can't feel it," she said. "I'm too scared, I
think."
"Then I'll make an assessment and determine whether Dr.
Shaw should take a look. You may not feel the full extent of your injuries
until later, anyway." Placing my hands beneath her arms, I set her on the
kitchen counter. When the water was warm enough, I wet the towel and began
cleaning her face.
"It's still bleeding," I said, wiping fresh blood
away from her nose. "Here," I pulled a paper towel from the nearby
roll and handed it to her. "Apply pressure while I clean the rest of
this."
"Okay, boss."
"Yes," I nodded at her statement. "I am the
boss right now. If you hurt anywhere, I expect you to tell me."
"Do I get to be the boss when I clean you up?"
"You can be as bossy as you like. Whether I listen or not
is another thing."
"Typical."
"If typical involves my anger and concern after my
cabbage is hurt, then yes, I am typical."
"I feel the same way, you know," she pointed out.
"I want to slap somebody down for what they did to you, James and the
others."
"Then I appreciate your concern and anger on my
behalf," I said. "There is a terrible bruise on your forehead. I
thought it might be mostly dirt. It is mostly bruise, instead."
"I don't really feel it," she shook her head at me.
"Hold still, my darling. Let me clean the rest of this.
Then we'll let Dr. Shaw have a look."
I wasn't expecting what happened next—her eyes filled with
tears. "What is wrong? Did I hurt you?" I asked, pulling the cloth
away.
"Oh, God, Ilya, where have you been all this time?"
She wrapped her arms around my neck and sobbed.
* * *
Corinne
Why can one gentle word of endearment make you fall apart?
"I'm so sorry," I sniffled and attempted to pull away.
"No," he said, running a hand down my back in a soothing
caress. "Don't be sorry. We've had too many brushes with death lately.
Your reaction is understandable."
"This is such a horrible mess." I leaned away
successfully, then. "Come on, let's look at you, now. Any particular place
to start?"
His left elbow was bruised where he'd landed on the stone
courtyard, and ought to be X-rayed. I didn't say that as I cleaned dirt and
grit away from his skin. Both of us looked as if we'd been tossed off a moving
motorcycle, front-first.
"The President is shutting down this operation for
now," August walked into the kitchen holding up his cell phone.
"She's calling us back. Nick has disappeared."
* * *
The flight home wasn't comfortable—even cleaned up we looked
as if we'd been in a brawl and come out losers. "I'm sorry," I patted
Rafe's hand.
"I will track him eventually. And her, too. I hope they
know I'm on their trail," Rafe growled softly.
"Any idea where Nick is?" August settled onto the
seat across the aisle and pointed his question at me.
"He's hunting Becker," I said.
"To join him?"
"To kill him."
"I thought they were friends."
"That was before Becker and Gene got Preston, Vance, Carol,
Ken and Kevin killed. Every time I saw him after the Mansion bombing, he looked
like a pressure cooker about to explode."
"So he's hunting on his own," August dropped his
head against the seat back with a sigh. "This isn't good."
"He could get himself killed," Rafe said.
"Cutter has too many resources at his disposal."
"Nick knows how to survive in the wild," August
sighed. "I have no idea where he'd start looking for Cutter, though. We've
received no intel on his whereabouts from the moment he started running."
"Is the President prepared to call him an outlaw
yet?" I asked.
"I don't know. She wants a meeting when we get
back."
"Auggie," I half rose in my seat. The only thing
keeping me from crawling over the seat in front of me was the seatbelt and
Rafe's hands. Cutter was watching the carnage; he wanted to see the capitol in
Sacramento fall, so he'd arranged for a view nearby. The explosion happened on
the lowest level, in the middle of a wedding reception, bringing the dome down
on top of two hundred guests.
I'll watch you die with pleasure, you bastard
, I sent
to him just before I fainted.
* * *
"Cabbage, your nose bled while you were out."
I woke propped against Rafe's chest, a cold, wet cloth held
against my face.
"Did Auggie get the news?"
"He did."
Rafe and I were in the back of the jet, near the bathroom.
Rafe had taken the entire row of seats for us, so he could stretch out and hold
onto me at the same time.
"How many?" I asked.
"Are you sure you want to know? Someone is already taking
responsibility—he sent video to the national news organizations."
"Cutter's paid monkey, no doubt," I said. "Do
we have photographs of him?"
"I believe Colonel Hunter is waiting for Dr. Shaw's
approval before he shows you anything."
"Then his approval can't come soon enough."
* * *
"Ted Ryan," Auggie handed his tablet to me so I
could watch the video. We drove toward the villa in the back of a limousine the
President sent to pick us up at the air base.