Covenant (58 page)

Ethan finished his coffee and set his mug down.

“So, silence all around then?” he guessed. “It never happened.”

Wilson nodded frankly.

“Dr. Sheviz is in the care of Bedouin nomads, which I think we can both assume will not be a pleasant experience for him. Most of the other key players are dead. Lopez and you will sign an official secrets declaration, as will your friends Safiya and Aaron Luckov before their return to Israel. All trace of events will be removed from the records of all agencies involved, and Kelvin Patterson died tragically from natural causes.”

“What about Lucas Tyrell?” Ethan asked. “Lopez said he was killed during his investigation.”

“He died a hero,” Wilson said with genuine intensity, “and that will be on the record.”

“What about Joanna Defoe, my fiancée?”

“That will be for Senator Black to explain.”

“And the bloodline?” Ethan asked. “The message in a bottle that those remains represent? Surely we all deserve to know what the message is?”

Wilson’s features hardened, and he stood from his chair.

“They’ll be studied. Let’s just say that if you leave someone a calling card, you’ll make sure there’s a way of calling back on it.”

“And what if any one of the others goes public with what happened?” Ethan asked out of curiosity as he stood.

Wilson smiled as he shook Ethan’s hand, but his eyes were cold.

“Three things. First, nobody will believe them except the cranks and weirdos. Second, they’ll find themselves experiencing a long and continuous run of bad luck. If that doesn’t silence them, then the third thing will happen, and nobody wants that. Enjoy a long life, Mr. Warner.”

HART SENATE OFFICE BUILDING
WASHINGTON DC

W
hy wasn’t I told?”

Ethan sat on the edge of a finely furnished couch opposite Senator Isaiah Black. The senator sighed, picking his words with care.

“It was a difficult time,” he began, “and the administration didn’t know how to handle—”

“The truth?” Ethan cut in. “It was a difficult time for me, in case they hadn’t noticed. They knew what had happened to Joanna Defoe and they refused to tell me.”

Black nodded, raising a placatory hand. “Please, I’m just the messenger here.”

“So what happened?” Ethan pressed.

Senator Black spoke quietly, holding Ethan’s pensive gaze.

“According to the Defense Intelligence Agency, Joanna Defoe traveled into Gaza before Operation Cast Lead, Israel’s retaliation for rocket attacks by Hamas. She was talking to high-level militants and filming them as they attempted to launch Qassam rocket attacks into Sderot. At some point MACE operatives decided to abduct or detain Miss Defoe against her will near Jabaliya.”

Black hesitated for a moment. Ethan waited, keeping his gaze fixed on the senator until he was compelled to continue.

“Jabaliya was hit by aerial attacks at several points during the conflict, each of which caused numerous casualties among the Hamas leadership. Israel believed that Joanna Defoe was inadvertently killed during one such attack, but it would seem likely that she may not have been there at all, held captive by MACE forces elsewhere.”

Pain pinched the corners of Ethan’s eyes and his top lip quivered.

“Why wasn’t I told?” he asked again.

“Most of the details were kept from the public because, essentially, the apparent passing of your fiancée was considered a direct result of Israeli military action. However, that action was against legitimate targets.”

“And Joanna likely wasn’t even there.”

Senator Black nodded.

“Pastor Kelvin Patterson was behind the entire operation, having gained a controlling share of MACE in order to provide security and mobility, as well as plausible deniability in the form of advanced cryogenic battlefield surgery for his experiments. This was nobody’s fault except his, and at least now you have the truth.”

“All lies lead to the truth,” Ethan said. “Do they know what happened to Joanna afterward?”

“I’m afraid the trail runs cold at that point,” the senator said. “If Byron Stone or Spencer Malik knew anything about it, they took their secret to the grave.”

Black looked down at a legal file in his lap.

“It has been decided that in recognition of your efforts both to liberate Lucy Morgan and, not least, to prevent Kelvin Patterson from killing me, the administration should compensate you for your loss. They understand that you have suffered a great deal, and that any court hearing would find in your favor. I do not think that the terms of your compensation will be disappointing.”

“They would be disappointing to Joanna.”

“I know,” Black said, the line of his jaw hardening. “But I think that you’re by now aware of the delicacy of what’s come to pass and of the need for security. All other parties have been compensated to their satisfaction, including Lucas Tyrell’s family. I owe you my life, Mr. Warner, and if it’s of any consolation, I’m willing to offer my support to you in any way from this day on. I never forget a debt.”

Ethan stood up, and finally managed a faint smile.

“I may call you up on that one day, especially if you make it into the White House.”

Senator Isaiah Black grinned as they shook hands.

“I hope that you do.”

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
SEPTEMBER 12

E
than sat on a bar stool at a tall table outside a restaurant, watching nearby choppy, white-crested waves whipped up by a cool breeze sweeping in off Lake Michigan to take the edge off the late-summer sunshine. His first beer in over a week tasted better than he ever remembered, not least since he no longer had to worry about money.

“Mind if I join you?”

Ethan turned, looking straight into the eyes of Nicola Lopez.

“Sure,” he said, gesturing to the stool next to him. “Your call sounded urgent.”

Lopez sat down, looking entirely different in a summer dress and with her hair long and flowing like black velvet.

“I quit the force,” she said simply.

Ethan’s jaw dropped. “You did what? You were up for promotion after what happened.”

Lopez shrugged, ordering a drink from a passing waitress before replying.

“Never was one for rank. Besides, after what happened to Lucas Tyrell and all the interagency bullshit, I thought I could do better on my own.”

Ethan found himself smiling.

“You’re going freelance, like a gumshoe? You going to wear a trilby and a trench coat?”

“Maybe not,” Lopez said tartly, “but right now I need the money, both for myself and for my family down over the border. I’m pretty damned sure I can do better financially this way.”

Ethan took a sip of beer, looking out over the lake.

“So where’d you think of setting up this grand new empire?”

Lopez shrugged.

“Anywhere there’s business, but somewhere I can live without having to worry about going out late at night.”

Ethan took a chance, gesturing out over the water. “Maybe the lakes?” he suggested. “Indiana’s good in the summer.”

Lopez smiled. “Maybe. What about you?”

Ethan shrugged.

“I’ve bought an apartment. Chicago’s my home, and I’ve still got some money left.”

Lopez raised an eyebrow as she studied her drink.

“So you’re at a loose end then,” she suggested.

“Kind of.”

“Feel like killing some time until you’ve decided what you want to do?”

“Doing what?”

“Whatever comes up,” Lopez said, smiling at him over the rim of her glass.

“Didn’t think innuendo was your thing.”

“It’s not.”

Ethan looked at her for a moment, then chuckled and glanced out over the lakes as Lopez leaned forward on the table.

“We’re both at a crossroads in our lives,” she said. “We both know what we’re good at, so why not join forces and see what comes up. People don’t always want the police on their doorstep; they want things done discreetly. Besides, I’ve had enough of uncovering corpses in Prince George’s and Anacostia. I want to look for cases that are a bit more interesting.” She sat back. “We could make a good team.”

“I’m not sure how I fit into this great design of yours.”

Lopez smiled brightly.

“You can be the brains, I’ll be the hard ass.”

Ethan laughed out loud for the first time in what felt like years.

“Why not?” he said finally. “Trouble is, we need a case first.”

Lopez’s dark eyes sparkled as she gave a little shrug and looked away from him to study the opposite shore of the lake.

“Hello, Ethan.”

The voice came from behind, and Ethan turned to see Doug Jarvis standing behind him. Ethan stood impulsively from his seat as a stab of anger lanced through him.

“You knew,” he said. “You knew about MACE and Joanna.”

“We suspected,” Jarvis said, raising a placatory hand. “The DIA couldn’t investigate without Congress finding out about it, and that would have put pressure on the administration to prevent the media from sniffing the story out. The incumbent president authorized MACE’s contracts when he took office—it doesn’t matter that he didn’t know what they were up to, if word had gotten out, his reelection campaign would have been over.”

“Two birds, one stone,” Ethan said bitterly. “They ever really have any interest in finding Joanna?”

“No,” Jarvis said flatly. “They wanted the remains Lucy found, and they wanted MACE investigated. Both needed a discreet operation, one that wouldn’t be traced back to the DIA.”

Ethan sat down, shaking his head.

“You did a great job,” he said, and looked at Lopez. “You sure you want to work for these guys?”

“They’ve got work for us, Ethan,” she said seriously.

Doug Jarvis gestured to a man waiting nearby. Adrian Selby walked over and extended his hand to Ethan, who took it cautiously.

“You did a fantastic job, Mr. Warner, no doubt about it,” Selby said enthusiastically. “So good, in fact, that I brought you and Ms. Lopez this.”

Selby handed Ethan a thick blue file.

“What is it?” Ethan asked.

Doug Jarvis spoke for his colleague.

“All of our investigations with the agency have to be justified, if not to Congress then to our own superiors. We have a budget and it has its limits. Nobody at the DIA would back the operation in the Negev; that’s why I came to you. But your success has generated new interest. The agency has given us a limited budget to investigate cases where we’d find it hard to justify committing resources, where the subject matter in hand is considered … unusual.”

Ethan frowned.

“Unusual? As in weird?”

“As in unique,” Selby said promptly. “There’s a situation developing, in New Mexico. It’s a bit of a tricky one and we’re not sure how to deal with it as we don’t have enough information on the ground. The agency would appreciate it if you could take a look at things for us …”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

It’s surprising how many people come together to publish a novel. For fifteen years it was just me, a computer monitor, and an ever-growing pile of rejection letters. Now there’s an army of hardworking, enthusiastic people turning what was once a dream into a reality. I owe an immense debt of gratitude to my brilliant agent Luigi Bonomi, who saw potential in my work and nurtured it so expertly; to my wonderful editors Maxine Hitchcock and Emma Lowth, and the fantastic team at Simon & Schuster, who have made me feel so welcome in what has become a very different world to live in; to authors James Becker, Matt Hilton and Rebecca Royle for their advice and guidance on my journey to publication; to my friends who read countless manuscripts; and to my parents Terry and Carolyn, who along with all of my family have unfailingly supported me throughout these long years. Every day has been worth it.

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