Authors: Charlie Cole
Headhunters (25 page)
Chapter Twenty-Three
We stood in a cemetery in
Alexandria, Virginia. It had not been a great effort to get the family to come,
but it hadn’t been any easier either. We stood at the grave of Claire Elizabeth
Parks. We each held a white carnation. It had been Claire’s favorite flower.
The night before the visit to the cemetery, I’d talked to
Jessica and asked her how she felt about the whole thing. Was it weird? Should
I go alone?
“She’s part of your life, Simon,” she said. “I know that. I
accept that.”
I nodded.
“It’s okay to love your wife,” she said, squeezing my
shoulder. “It doesn’t mean you love me any less, okay? I know that.”
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
So we went. It seemed right. This journey had started here
for us. It seemed right that this part of it should end here. I remembered
being there for the commitment ceremony and holding the children and listening
to them sob. Now, Melissa wiped away a few tears, but mostly held my hand. David
hugged my leg. He was a good kid, but this was all so unusual for him.
The children each laid their carnation at the base of their
mother’s headstone. They put their arms around each other as they walked back.
It was cute, but sad in a way. Alaina placed her flower down next and crossed
herself.
“God bless you, Claire,” she said.
I went next. I could not say what I wanted to say with the
family there. If I’d had my way, I’d have poured my soul out to her. That I
missed her. That I was sorry that I’d failed her. That I was committing to
being a better father. But I knew she was not there to hear it. And the only
person the words would do any good for was me.
In my heart, I still loved Claire and would continue to love
her. But the time that I wished to see her, to be with her by putting myself in
harm’s way was over. I had too much to live for and along the way, I’d lost
sight of that. I had gotten so wrapped up in the idea of saving the post 9/11
world that I’d nearly lost my entire family here on the home front.
I put my fingertips to my lips and then touched them to
Claire’s name engraved in the stone. I loved Jessica as well and there had
grown to be a part inside me that would do anything to stop what happened to
Claire from happening to Jessica. Was I better for it? I hoped so.
I would defend my family regardless the cost. But in the
end, what did that make me capable of? I’d had to change my perspective, take
myself off the sidelines and get into the game to bring us back together at the
end of the day. But had that played into the hands of Randall Kendrick?
He’d wanted me to be more like him. He made no secret of
that. I could only pray that I still held the line and did what was right and
not follow him in the path he’d followed. It was a dark journey Kendrick had
taken… I dared not follow it.
I stood and walked to my kids. They hugged me and Alaina put
an arm around my waist. I was surprised to see Jessica go forward then. Not
only to lay her flower down, but also to lean close to the headstone, to say a
prayer and then, I heard Jess say something. A word… no… a phrase… a simple
phrase. And like a song that you try to decipher the lyrics for, I replayed the
phrase again in my mind.
“Thank you,” she’d said. “Thank you for Simon.”
I was struck by that. By the circumstance. By the grace. By
the kindness in the way she had said it. Not as an opportunist, but simply as
one woman thankful to another for the man that had passed along when death
comes.
Jessica’s kind spirit had always amazed me. Her softness in
the way she spoke, her concern. She meant no ill will here. She knew where I
stood and was thankful for her place at my side.
We walked together to the car and I noticed with a sigh of
relief, an absence of black sedans. No agents there that day. No threats. No
fear. The sky had cleared and there was not a cloud in it.
We got into the car and drove. We stopped by a small market
and bought the makings of a picnic lunch. Deli meat and bread and pickles and
chips and soda. A pie for dessert on paper plates.
We drove a distance and Jess’ hand found mine and I looked
over at her and smiled. In the time that had passed, we’d begun to heal. Our
physical wounds of course, but our emotional wounds as well… our spiritual
wounds taking the longest.
I didn’t dream about Claire after that. Neither good nor
bad. But I had memories. Fond, fond memories… and that was enough.
I pulled into a parking lot that seemed more secluded from
the rest. A short distance away was a soccer field, closer was a playground
with monkey bars and slides. Nearby were picnic tables. We got out and walked
over, the kids laughing and playing. I wore khaki pants and a golf shirt.
Jessica wore a yellow sundress.
We sat and made sandwiches and let the children play. I was
working my way through a smoked turkey and cheese sandwich when my cell phone
rang. I rolled my eyes. It was one of the first times I’d left the thing on
since being at the cabin in Wisconsin.
I unclipped the phone and looked at the display. My face
must have shown something. Something Jess didn’t like.
“Who is it?” she asked. Her voice was low and cautious.
I shook my head. Not at her, but at the reality that this
person was calling me. I took a deep breath and answered.
“Hello?”
A voice came on of an operator, but unlike any I’d ever
heard before.
“Please hold for the President of the United States…”
I was immediately put on hold. I looked at Jess and covered
the receiver with my hand.
“Who is it?” she asked again, more urgently this time.
“It’s the President,” I replied.
“The president of what—“ She stopped herself in
mid-sentence. “Shut up… are you serious? The President? The President
president?”
I nodded, smiling a little at her nervousness, but my own
heart thumped a little faster in my chest, too. I wasn’t immune. The children
had stopped playing and were approaching slowly. Finally, a voice broke the
silence on the phone. It was a voice I’d heard on the television during news
broadcasts, radio broadcasts, even once in person at a rally. But that had been
work related.
“Mr. Parks?” the President said.
“Yes, sir. This is Simon Parks.”
“Simon, I’d like to offer my deepest thanks for the service
you have provided for this country. Director Jack Sinclair has brought me up to
speed on your efforts. It’s that kind of initiative to keep this country safe
that we need in this day and age.”
I actually blushed.
“Well, thank you, sir,” I said. “I appreciate you saying
that.”
“We’ll have to get you out to my ranch here soon,” the
President continued. “I’m sure we’d have a lot to talk about. Bring the family.
We love kids.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied. I was somewhat aware that I was
grinning like a fool.
“Alright, you take care of yourself, Mr. Parks, and I’ll
have my staff call you to make arrangements,” the President said.
“Thank you, sir,” I replied.
“I’m going to transfer you to Director Sinclair’s
extension,” he continued. “He has some things he’d like to discuss with you.
Take care, Simon! Good-bye!”
“Good-bye, sir,” I said. The line clicked over and I waited.
At last Sinclair came on the line.
“Simon?”
“Director Sinclair.”
“I couldn’t agree with the President more,” he said. “You
did an incredible job. We recovered all the files and tied up the loose ends.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I said.
“Except one.”
“Except one?” I asked. “What does that mean?”
“The body of Randall Kendrick was never recovered.”
I sat down hard on the bench and put my head in my hand. I
didn’t know how to react. Anger… disappointment… fear… or worse, relief.
“He’s missing?” I asked.
“Now listen,” Sinclair went on, “in all likelihood, he’s
dead and his body is entangled under some bridge down river.”
“You dragged the river though, didn’t you?” I asked.
“Well, yes…”
“And you didn’t find him, did you?” I continued.
“Well… no…”
“Then I would have to say that the rumors of his death are
greatly exaggerated, wouldn’t you?” I finished.
Sinclair had no answer to that. At least not the answer I
expected.
“Since you bring it up, Simon,” Sinclair said. “There is the
matter of Blackthorn…”
“Blackthorn doesn’t exist anymore,” I said flatly.
“Exactly,” Sinclair said, but I could hear a smile in his
voice. “And officially, that’s the way we’d like to keep it.”
“Officially?” I asked. “And unofficially?”
“Unofficially, we’d like you to rebuild Blackthorn from the
ground up.”
“Oh, hell no!” I said instantly.
“Hear me out now, Simon,” Sinclair was saying.
Silence.
“Okay… go ahead.”
“You are a headhunter, Simon,” Sinclair said. “No one is a
better judge of talent than you. You can rebuild the operation and choose your
own people. You’ll get full cooperation from any and all agencies involved. But
you pick the people and run the operations.”
“I’m not going out in the field again,” I said.
“And we’re not asking you to, not exactly,” Sinclair went
on. “You chose your team, even a point man to run operations and you monitor
activities.”
I couldn’t say it out loud, not then, but the prospect of it
was exciting in its own way. But the realization hit me then… Kendrick had
finally gotten his way. Dead or alive, I was taking over his job. He’d done
everything to prepare me for it. He’d even created the threat himself, all to prepare
me to take over for him.
“What’s our first priority?” I asked.
“Find Randall Kendrick,” Sinclair growled.
“I can’t argue with that,” I said. “I’ll call you back.”
“But, Simon—“ Sinclair began.
“I’ll call you back, Jack,” I said shortly. “I’m with my
family.”
I rang off and pocketed the phone. Jess was looking at me.
She’d gotten the gist of the conversation.
“Everything okay?” she asked. I nodded, smiling.
“Daddy?” it was David, pulling at me.
“Yes, buddy?” I asked.
“Do you have to go to work today?” he asked in his little
boy voice. I looked at him and Melissa and gave them both a hug.
“Not today, son,” I said. “Not today.”
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