The 13: Fall (19 page)

“You, too?” he asked them.

There was a round of nods. Not because no one wanted to speak. But because they were unable to.

“We have to go,” Forester said.

Nobody moved. They were all still stunned.

“Now!” he screamed.

   CHAPTER 31   

M
egan swatted away the doctor’s hand for the third time.

“I’m fine!” she said. “Please get that thing out of my face.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Taylor,” the doctor objected, waving the otoscope. “But I told you this follow-up was necessary. If I’m to release you from further examinations, you need to let me look and make sure I don’t see any blood in your ears or cloudiness in your eyes. I know it’s been a couple days now, but I want to make sure.”

“Let the woman do her job so we can get out of here.” It was Keene.

“You’re the reason I’m in here!” Megan reminded him.

Boz came into the room, momentarily diffusing the situation. “Everything okay here, doc?”

The doctor clicked off the little light-emanating instrument and said, “Looks okay. But I’d still recommend a few days of light duty and lots of rest.”

“Yeah, I’ll take that into consideration,” Megan said.

She knew it really wasn’t Keene’s fault. But she was angry. She’d told him that the place was going to blow up. Heck, the note told them the place was going to blow up! Why she hadn’t just walked out and left him there was the real question. She immediately answered it for herself: if anything had happened to him, she would have felt guilty for the rest of her life.

“Hey,” she said, hopping down from the examination table, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to jump on you like that. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” Keene said. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you in that situation.”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“I wouldn’t say a
big
girl.” Keene smiled. “I’d say athletic with good muscle tone.”

“Ha ha. Funny!” she said. “Can we go now?”

“Waiting on you.”

“Any word on the computer from the Internet café?” she asked.

“I just talked to Franks,” Boz said. “He said it’s fried, and they’ve got nothing.”

“There’s got to be something on there,” Megan said. “I need to go check it out.”

“It’s a dead end,” Keene said. “Let’s go.”

“It’s only been a couple days,” Megan argued. “And I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet. Maybe I can find something.”

“We’ve been here for four days. We’ve been all over this city trying to chase down this guy. I’m telling you. He’s gone. Doesn’t matter what you find on that computer. You said yourself that he wouldn’t risk using it for anything other than sending you that e-mail. The manager said he’d never seen the guy before. We’re spinning our wheels here. We need to regroup and figure out what’s next.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “But first, I’m starving. I need something to eat.”

They walked down the street to an old-fashioned diner, the kind that looks like a huge, silver train car. Once they were seated, the waitress came and took their orders and disappeared again.

There was a television hanging above grill, with a local morning news program on. The sound was down but the hosts were talking with a guy Megan recognized as an author. His book was on the small coffee table facing the camera. She had been meaning to read it—something about a lawyer who went into the Witness Protection Program.

Keene and Boz were talking, but Megan was watching when the interview was interrupted. A graphic for breaking news flashed on the screen, and the feed was instantly switched to New York City. A reporter was standing in front of the iconic statue of the bull on Wall Street.

“Hey,” she shouted to the person behind the counter. “Turn that up.”

The young man behind the counter looked at her as if he had been asked to dig a ditch. She pulled her badge out and walked over to him. “I said, turn that up, please.”

The kid reached under the counter and produced a remote control. Keene and Boz were already out of their seats standing beside her.

“What’s going on?” Keene asked.

The volume on the TV slowly crept up. The reporter looked to be in a big panic.

“… word here,” he was saying, “is that the European market showed no sign of this during their trading session all day. This is coming as a huge surprise, Dave. I haven’t had a chance to speak with any of the executives yet, but I’m told someone will be making a statement soon.”

The image went to split screen, and a man behind an anchor desk appeared.

“Chris, we haven’t heard anything from Washington yet. Can you tell us anything else?”

“Only that this all started about a half hour ago. If you can pan around behind me, you’ll see the police tape there. Local law enforcement is on the scene, and they’re trying to keep everyone back.”

“Okay, Chris, well we’ll keep in touch with you there, as we try to figure out what’s going on. Thanks.”

The screen went full again. This time with the anchor.

“So there you have it, folks. Horrible tragedy in the wake of this sudden and horrifying news. Once again, if you’ve just joined us, it appears that the CEO of American Financial Mutual bank, Bradley Forester III, has committed suicide by jumping out of his forty-second floor office. This on the heels of the market taking a devastating dive this morning. Still no word on what this means for the immediate future right now. But it’s beginning to look like total chaos here in New York at the moment. Now, I believe we have our correspondent in Washington on the phone. Michael, are you there?”

Megan looked at Keene and Boz, who were still-faced. She didn’t know what this had to do with anything, but she had a gut feeling it wasn’t good. “What do you make of that?” she said.

“Don’t know,” Keene said. “But I’d bet it has everything to do with this attack. We need to go.”

“Where?” Megan asked.

Neither of them had an answer.

“Okay, then,” she said. “I’ll call and get us a ride. Boz, see if you can get President Grant on the phone and find out anything.” Then to Keene, “Jon, you get our food to go.”

“What!” Keene said. “You kidding me? Get the food?”

Megan looked at him. “I’m not going anywhere without some food. I’m starving. Besides, remember what you said, ‘Never pass up the chance to sleep or eat’?”

Keene rolled his eyes. Apparently, they were back on first names again. “Get on the phone and get us a ride. I’ll meet you outside.”

   CHAPTER 32   

M
s. Smith sat on her bed, watching the television above the fireplace and packing her bag again. She’d left the United States shortly after meeting with Marianne and had taken her private chartered plane to Quebec. It was good to get a few nights’ sleep at home. She had planned on taking more than just these last few days. Enjoy the quietness of the country. Just twenty miles north of Montreal, her place was far enough out of the city to be private but close enough to get anything she needed quickly. But all of that was not to be.

She had begun to pack, again, after the phone call from Marianne. It appeared there was trouble. She was pretty certain that Marianne hadn’t run her mouth to anyone. She was too smart for that. And she definitely hadn’t said anything to anyone. So why was the president of the United States in Marianne’s office asking about a potential threat? Somebody knew something. And that didn’t sit well with her.

Alex was a self-made woman. Born Alexandra Sokolov, she was an orphan. She grew up under the government’s care and had figured her life was meaningless. That was until he, Joseph, came for her that day.

He showed up, out of the clear blue, one afternoon when she was fourteen. The headmaster of the girls’ home had found her in the library and told her that she had a visitor. This was very strange. No one ever came to visit her. But it sounded exciting, so she followed the headmaster to the foyer, where a man in a suit and tie introduced himself and asked if she’d like to take a walk.

They walked the grounds of the compound, as none of the children were allowed to leave without the accompaniment of one of the staff. But the compound was large and completely fenced in, so there was plenty enough room for a stroll. Eventually they found themselves a long way from the house, in the back of the property in a wooded area, a good four hundred yards away from anyone.

He made no attempt at small talk. Rather he explained to her that he knew who she was, where she was from, who her real parents were, and why she was at the orphanage. He even told her that her real name was Alexandra Sokolov. He had a very compelling story, and she was hooked from the moment he introduced himself. Anything was better than where she was.

Joseph explained to her that he could take her away from there. That he was family and had papers to prove it. He could train her and give her a skill set that would never go unneeded.

“What do I have to do?” she remembered asking.

He answered her by pulling out a pistol with a silencer on it.

“Have you ever seen one of these?”

“On television and in the movies,” she answered.

“Have you ever held one?”

“No.”

“Here.” He took her hand and showed her how to hold the weapon. “Now see that tree right there?” He pointed.

“Yes.”

“Shoot it.”

She remembered not even hesitating. She pulled the trigger and the gun spat. The recoil sent her arm over her head. That made her angry. Not only had she missed the tree, but she felt like such a weakling for not being able to control its recourse to her arm. Without a second thought, she stiffened her arm and lowered the gun again, taking aim at the tree. She pulled the trigger again and again until it just clicked and no more bullets came out. She had hit the tree six out of nine times.

“Did you like how that feels?” Joseph asked.

“Yes.”

“Would you be able to do that to a person?”

Again, she didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

Joseph had smiled at her. He had the warmest and nicest smile.

When they got back to the house, Joseph informed the headmaster that he was her uncle. He produced some papers and a letter from the Canadian government instructing the headmaster to turn Alex over to him.

Naturally, the headmaster made him wait as she made some calls and checked out his story. But apparently, it did. Ten minutes later, she was packed and leaving the house. There would be no more orphanage for Alexandra Sokolov. There would be no more Alexandra Sokolov either, Joseph had explained. From now on, she would be Alex Smith.