“Chaos Squad,” he began. “What would happen if we took them in?”
“You mean arrest them?” she asked. “Well, I suppose it would depend on whose office got ahold of them. If the police took them in, they’d sit in a country club prison for a couple of years while cases were built against them and trials were held. Truth is: they’d probably end up getting out within three to five after some money exchanged hands. Blackwater wouldn’t want these guys’ names tarnishing their image. They’d most likely buy them out and make them disappear. Probably to twelve unmarked graves somewhere in a forgotten country.”
“Shit,” Charlie breathed. “And if the Company got them?”
Victoria hesitated before speaking, but then continued with a sigh.
“There would be no trial. There would be no public mention that these mercs ever existed. The Company has zero tolerance for terrorists who are American citizens. The first couple of weeks would see them spending their time in blackout rooms deep inside Langley. They’d be stripped of their clothing and left to rot in pitch-black rooms. There’s no sense of time or space in there and, after a while, it starts to erode the mind. When the blackout rooms have done their job, the real shit will begin. There’s a guy down there, a Compliance Specialist named Weaver.” She made air quotes with her fingers when she spoke Weaver’s title. “He has a lot of tools, a lot of free time and a lot of fucked up brain cells. He’ll wring those twelve mercs for every drop of information they could possibly have retained in their entire lives. After Weaver’s treatment, they’ll disappear—same as the other scenario. Either way, these guys aren’t going to make it to retirement age. No cashing Social Security checks or playing golf in Boca Raton for them.”
Charlie sat quietly for a moment, thinking. He could tell from Victoria’s tone that she hated the endgame as much as he did, and that she wouldn’t consider taking these men’s lives if it wasn’t the best possible course of action. There was no hope for these men, and so the police officer within Charlie’s mind finally took a step back in favor of the more savage instincts of the primal man within. Regardless of the fates of these men, one constant remained: they had abducted his wife and his daughters, and would not hesitate to harm them if Holloway gave the order. The thought of these animals anywhere near his family caused fresh waves of rage and anxiety to wash over him. Victoria, while ruthless, was absolutely right. If the one true way to save his family was killing these men, then that was what they must do. His family had so much to offer the world, while these savages simply detracted from it. No harm would befall his family if he had the opportunity to prevent it. His decision had finally been made.
“You’re right, Victoria,” Charlie said finally, with a slight air of resignation. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Her intense gaze softened and she smiled her characteristic bright smile. “Good. We could really use that brain of yours on this one, detective.”
•••
They finished the ride in comfortable silence, Charlie finally at peace with the fact that he may be forced to go against his morals. It was easier to deal with the consequences knowing that whatever he may be forced to do was in defense of hundreds of innocent people who’d done nothing to deserve the hell that Spencer Holloway was planning to rain down upon them.
Victoria seemed more at ease, as well. She appeared looser and more relaxed throughout the rest of the ride, leaning back against the seat with her feet crossed at the ankles on the seatback in front of her. Charlie had even spied her lips moving in sync with the song a few times and she’d laughed when she’d noticed him looking.
Upon exiting the ride, Victoria’s cell phone rang.
“It’s McCoy,” she told Charlie, before excusing herself to take the call.
Charlie stood just out of earshot and absently watched the seconds tick away on his watch. In no time, Victoria appeared in front of him, a solemn look darkening her otherwise cheerful features.
“What is it?” Charlie asked as they began making their way back toward Liberty Square.
“Jeremy’s dead.”
“What? Was it because I—”
“No, it wasn’t you,” she held up a hand to reassure him. “Remember when I told you that Jeremy killed someone close to one of my team? Well…she was McCoy’s daughter.”
Charlie nodded but remained silent, urging her to continue. Victoria put her hand on his back and steered him toward the waterfront, out of earshot of any passersby.
“Last year, poor McCoy lost his only daughter—a pretty little girl, only seventeen. Toxicology reports say she was drugged in an attempted date rape. She had an allergic reaction to the drug and didn’t recover from it. A jogger found her body in an alley in Alexandria. Footage from local businesses’ security cameras gave us the lucky break in finding out who did it. Only one car had turned into that alley between the time the jogger found her body and the last time she was seen alive. It was a rental car registered to a Jeremy O’Neill…”
She trailed off, allowing Charlie to process the information on his own. He didn’t know what to feel. That coward had killed McCoy’s only daughter and dumped her in an alley. It was something Charlie saw all too often in his profession, and he’d also seen the effect it had upon the family members of the victim, most often their reactions had been violent. These were civilians; McCoy was a hardened combat operative working for the Central Intelligence Agency.
Charlie had seen fathers swear death upon the killer of their child in front of multiple uniformed police officers. These men were regular people—all they had was hurt and rage and confusion to fuel their vendetta—so most of the time it began and ended with that single painful outburst. McCoy, on the other hand, was a trained killer. He had the skills and resources necessary to track and find the person responsible. Finally, it appeared, he had brought some form of closure to that painful chapter of his life. Charlie didn’t fully disagree with his actions, even though the lawman within him urged him otherwise.
“I’m guessing you didn’t turn that information over to the locals,” Charlie said, thoughtfully.
“Local PD would have needed warrants to access the cameras near the scene, but the Company doesn’t waste their time with that sort of thing—don’t need a warrant if nobody knows you were there. We knew that, without the footage, the locals’ case would have gone cold and stayed that way. I left it up to McCoy whether he wanted to hand it over or not. He chose not to,” she stated.
Something changed within Charlie, then. He put himself in McCoy’s shoes. He thought deeply about what he would do if someone had ever taken the lives of one of his girls. His first notion had been that he would do the right thing, make the arrest, testify at the trial—put the bastard away forever. But now… now he wasn’t quite sure what he would do if faced with that kind of pain. Maybe he would have made the same choice as McCoy. He decided to bury the issue.
“We should go,” he said, still haunted by the changes taking place so rapidly in his mind.
“Let’s head back to the restaurant, see if Mason has anything for us,” Victoria offered.
•••
Not far away, in his villa in the Contemporary Resort’s newest addition, Spencer Holloway sat deathly still. He watched the silent security feed as a beautiful, raven-haired woman leaned in close and spoke intimately with Walker near the water’s edge. The woman had been facing away from the camera, but any doubt Holloway may have had as to her identity evaporated when she turned.
Victoria.
Holloway trusted his eyes, but he nearly refused to believe them. His own daughter had come to the aid of his enemy.
Isn’t this adorable?
He’d known, even a decade ago, that leaving his daughter alive and well and working for the CIA would one day come back to bite him, but this couldn’t have come at a worse time. His child must not be allowed to continue her rebellion. He cursed himself for his oversight.
Frustration soon gave way to speculation as he began to wonder how long Victoria had been involved. He’d not seen her before, but he’d been tending to other matters and had ceased his surveillance on the detective after their previous conversation. When had his daughter first shown her face?
No matter; she must be dealt with.
Refusing to take his eyes away from the screen again, he grabbed his phone and dialed Jeremy, intending to have the boy dispose of pretty little Victoria once and for all. To his extreme dismay, his young assassin didn’t answer and after several rings the call went straight to voicemail. Holloway hung up and instantly tried the number again. Once more, he reached Jeremy’s voicemail.
Frantically, he pulled up a GPS application on another laptop and tracked Jeremy’s phone. When the ping came back, and he was able to see the location of the pulsing blue dot, his breath caught in his throat. Jeremy’s phone was right on top of Walker’s location.
Looking back to the surveillance feed, he could still see Walker standing with Victoria, but he couldn’t see anyone else nearby—no Jeremy. Where could the boy possibly be? Closer inspection of the scene showed him that Walker had a cell phone in his hand and was speaking quickly to Victoria. The detective no doubt held Jeremy’s phone. Holloway sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
How could this have happened? Holloway had sent Jeremy to carry out his new task hours ago. How could Walker have possibly obtained his phone?
Rage building within him, he dialed Jeremy’s phone a final time. Onscreen, he watched as Walker reacted to the third call, quickly exchanging words with Victoria—surely asking her advice whether or not to answer the phone. Finally, the detective answered without a word.
Silence greeted Spencer Holloway on the other end of the line, but he managed to remain calm.
“Hello, detective,” he breathed.
“Holloway,” declared the detective in a venomous tone. Holloway could see Walker slowly pacing, holding the phone in a white-knuckled grip. “Are you wondering what happened to your errand boy?”
“I
am
a bit curious,” Holloway casually admitted.
“First, let me tell you what
I’m
curious about. I’m
curious as to why you sent that asshole to kill me. I thought you were in this for the challenge. I play
one
game and you decide that you’ve had your fun and it’s time to kill me?”
Holloway was confused. He hadn’t sent Jeremy to kill Walker. Granted, the new challenge he’d sent Jeremy to initiate would have surely proved fatal for the detective, but Walker couldn’t have known a thing until he was dead.
Come to think of it, he also didn’t recall hearing from Eduardo—Walker had not gone to retrieve the contents of the locker as planned.
Holloway figured that Jeremy must have taken it upon himself to kill the detective—and must have failed miserably. Regardless, he must not allow the detective to know that this wasn’t part of the plan.
“All in due time, detective—”
“No,” Walker interrupted in an enraged snarl. “No more of your enigmatic blow-offs. You’re stalling for time. I want my fucking family, and I want them
now
!”
“Speaking of family members, how is my little Victoria?” he ventured.
“She hates you as much as I do.”
“Hate is a strong word, Walker. Let us reserve that for special occasions. May I speak to her?”
Onscreen, he watched Walker mute the phone and have a short exchange with Victoria. Reluctantly, she nodded and accepted the device.
“Still hiding behind your technology, I see,” she stated.
He dramatically feigned a painful gasp. “My dear Victoria, is that any way to speak to your father?”
“My
father
is a retired electrical engineer in Massachusetts.
You
are a maniac. You are not my father.”
“If only wishes came true!” he retorted. “You remind me too much of your mother. Perhaps I’ll introduce you to the same strain of curare that ended her life,” he threatened, hoping to goad her into divulging any useful information in her anger.
Unfortunately, she was either well prepared or perpetually well-guarded because all he got for his trouble was a fierce “You won’t get the chance.”
He could feel himself gradually losing the upper hand. He had no idea whether Victoria was alone, or if she had brought a team. He didn’t know the fate of Jeremy, nor what damaging information the young man had given them.
Still, he had the twelve boy scouts and they were standing by, awaiting his command. He hoped that Victoria hadn’t learned of their involvement, but his daughter was intelligent so he couldn’t dismiss it.
“Let me give you some advice, dear,” he said in a gentle tone. “Slowly draw your sidearm and execute Detective Walker. He will not survive the day anyway, so you might as well make it easy for him.”
Holloway watched his daughter turn toward the detective, looking the man in the eyes as she replied, “I’ve got a better idea. Bring the detective’s family to me, and I’ll make sure you end up in a nice maximum security prison for the rest of your life.”
He saw Walker give her a mischievous grin.
“Tempting…” Holloway joked. “But, I believe I have an even better plan. Pack up your operation and leave, or I will execute the detective’s family myself.”
The truth was: he couldn’t execute Walker’s family. Not until the detective was dead and his escape route was clear. If Holloway were to kill Walker’s family, then—assuming Victoria had brought a team with her—she would have no reason
not
to lead an assault on his position and kill him. He was confident in Chaos Squad’s ability to protect him, but only four of them were on the hotel’s grounds; the rest were in various other places throughout Disney property.
Much to his rage, she called his bluff without hesitation. “You could,” she offered, “but then I’d kill you myself. We know exactly where you are.”
We
. She wasn’t talking about herself and Walker; she’d meant it in reference to her team
.
It was exactly as he’d feared; she’d brought a team with her. He had no current way to discover how many operatives she’d brought with her, nor their positions. He’d normally have used Jeremy for such reconnaissance, but he was currently unavailable—which reminded him....
“Where is Jeremy?” he asked, needing to know for sure.
“Dead,” came her simple reply.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he managed, but he already knew it was true. Jeremy would never let himself be relieved of his possessions.
“Your pet had a thing for underage girls,” she told him, venomously. “He killed one of them—drugged her.”
“Jeremy did have his peculiarities,” Holloway admitted.
“Well, the father of that poor girl happens to work for the Company. He just put three rounds into your boy. Wrong guy to fuck with.”
Holloway’s rage was almost too unbearable to keep in check. He heard the plastic of the phone creaking beneath his grasp as he squeezed it with every ounce of his strength. It took all of the self-control he had to keep from hurling it across the room. Jeremy was dead, as a result of his emotions overriding his logic in not one, but two different situations. Holloway kicked himself for allowing the boy to live after making such costly mistakes.
“That’s what the Company hires these days, then? Common assassins?” he shot back.
“Yes,” she said, surprising him. “And that was personal. Are you prepared to see how we operate under more professional circumstances?”
He was losing control of the situation—of himself. This was not good.
He
was the true genius here, so why didn’t he feel like it? Why was he losing to a Detroit detective and his own bitch of a daughter? They’d taken his right-hand man from him. They’d foiled his secondary plan to eliminate Walker. But he still had cards left to play.
“It’s an interesting proposition, but if you allocated all your resources to killing me, then who would be left to save all the innocent guests?” In an attempt to gain her curiosity without giving anything away, he’d purposely failed to mention the bomb.
“Oh, you mean the bomb?” she asked. “We’ve got that under control, thanks.”
And it was at that moment that Holloway knew he still had a glimmer of hope left. Victoria knew about the bomb, but she didn’t have the situation under control. She couldn’t. He’d made sure of that.
“Really?” he asked. “That’s interesting. So you’ve disarmed it? Congratulations.”
“We will—”
“Save your breath, Victoria, and listen to me,” he commanded, not waiting for her to finish whatever weak threat she was starting in on. “You clearly have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. That bomb cannot be disarmed by anyone but me. In fact, the bomb cannot even be
accessed
in the time before it detonates. I have the only device capable of disarming it.”
“You’re lying,” she snapped, but she didn’t sound convinced.
“I invite you to have a look. Detective Walker has the key, which I’m sure he’s given you. There is only one way to prevent the detonation of the bomb, and that is to give me exactly what I want. And what I want,” he paused, “is the man standing in front of you dead.”
She didn’t respond, but he saw as her body language shifted. He could tell he’d struck a nerve with his ultimatum. It was clear that she was determined to rescue the detective and his family, but her duty was first and foremost to the innocent citizens of her country—hundreds of which would perish if she failed. He smiled, watching her struggle with the weighty decision. Finally, she spoke.
“I’ll have the park evacuated,” she threatened.
“Tsk, tsk, dear. I was under the impression that you were more experienced than that? Has the Company taught you nothing? The moment an evacuation begins, I’ll simply detonate the weapon. In fact, more guests will die during the panic than they would otherwise. Not to mention the trampling and rioting that will surely follow such a horrendous announcement.” He was enjoying this.
Then, much to his surprise, the line went dead. He watched onscreen as Victoria removed the battery from Jeremy’s phone and tossed it into a trashcan. She barked a few words at Walker and then stalked off, with the detective hurrying quickly to keep up.
This had not gone as Holloway had hoped. True, he still had the bomb and Walker’s family, but if he used either of those pieces of leverage he would surely fail. With the execution of the Walker women, or the detonation of the bomb, his death would most certainly follow.
He had to think of something else—some other way to win—but how? What did he have left? His two remaining options were only thinly veiled bluffs that would end in his death if he executed either one of them. Jeremy was dead, Victoria was here with a team of her own and it seems as if she knew more of his operation than he knew of hers.
Things were falling apart and, even with his newly united mind, he couldn’t foresee any way out of this situation. He could simply leave, but how long would it be before Victoria and Walker caught up with him? Besides, his dangerous levels of pride would never allow him to leave a job unfinished—death before dishonor.
Fed up with the circumstances, Holloway quickly stood, toppling his chair in the process. He gripped the bottle of Scotch and brought it to his lips. After three or four swallows, the burning in his throat became too painful to continue. He let his arm fall to his side, the dark amber liquid dribbling down his chin and staining his shirt. Had he consumed enough to overwhelm his metabolism?