R
OBIE SIPPED ON A CUP
of lukewarm coffee and studied the other people in the small room. They were in a CIA safe house twelve miles outside of Paris.
Reel was there, leaning against a wall and staring at nothing.
DD Amanda Marks was reading something on her phone.
Andrew Viola sat in a chair, his gaze on the floor.
Evan Tucker was in another chair and staring at the ceiling.
Marks finished with her phone and looked at Robie and Reel.
“Anything to add to your debrief?”
Robie shook his head and Reel said, “No. He obviously knew we were coming and he shot himself before we could. He said not to let them hurt his family and he told the president to go to hell.”
Evan Tucker seemed to shudder with every word she spoke. Reel looked at him with disgust but said nothing.
Robie put down the coffee and rose. “You want to tell us what’s really going on now?”
His question was directed not at Marks but at Tucker.
The DCI slowly seemed to realize this by the silence that persisted. He looked down to see Robie staring at him.
“And what the hell do you mean by that?” Tucker said slowly.
“I mean I’d like to hear the truth.”
Robie took a few steps toward the man. Reel did the same.
Viola rose and stood between the DCI and them. “I think we all need to take a breath and calm down.”
Marks said, “Robie and Reel, you need to stand down on this. The mission is over.”
Reel glanced at her. “I highly doubt that.”
“What do you mean?” snapped Tucker.
“The second in command in North Korea just offs himself in France and you think it ends here?”
“The whole scene has been cleansed,” said Tucker. “There’s nothing tying us to this. He killed himself. That’s clear. When the body is found that’s what the verdict will be. Because it’s the truth.”
“You’re joking, right?” said Reel. “You think the North Koreans, the paranoid North Koreans who desperately want to be taken seriously by the rest of the world, will let this drop?”
“Why do you think they care about this?” yelled Tucker.
“Because your lip is sweating,” retorted Reel. “You are up to your ass in this, Tucker. The general’s last words were telling our president to go to hell. Do you want us to report directly to him what we were told? Since it concerns him, he might want to know.”
Marks held up a warning hand. “Reel, I get where you’re coming from, I really do, but don’t go there. Stand down. Now! This is not helping.”
Reel started to say something and then turned away, obviously furious.
Robie said, “So what now?”
Tucker looked at him. “We let sleeping dogs lie.”
“That’s it?
That’s
your strategy?”
Marks said, “I think we need to go wheels up and back to the States. None of what we’re doing here is productive.” She looked at Robie and Reel. “Pack up your gear and let’s roll.”
Robie kept his gaze on Tucker. “Sir, with all due respect, this is not going away, no matter how much you and the president want it to. So I would respectfully suggest that you have a backup strategy to be deployed when the North Koreans come back at us. And they will.”
“What do you know about anything, Robie?” said Tucker, but his voice cracked when he said it.
“I know enough to know that this is a potential powder keg and North Korea has nukes. And it seems like their only goal in life is to kick sand in our face every chance they get. Well, I think we just handed them a great opportunity to nail us right in the balls. And they will. The only question is how.”
Marks said, “How do you think they will?”
Tucker looked at her and then back at Robie. He seemed to be waiting for an answer too.
Reel spoke up. “They either go big or small. Going big means they launch a missile. Going small means they send out their own team of assassins against a specific target or targets.”
Robie nodded in agreement at this.
Marks said, “And which do you think it will be, best guess?”
Robie answered. “A missile does nothing. They can’t reach us or any of our allies, and they’ve never shown they can deliver a payload.”
“So, small then. A team sent out against a target,” said Marks slowly. “But what target?”
“Targets, maybe,” corrected Robie. “And if our plan was to take out their leader?”
“There is no way they can do that, Robie,” said Tucker. “The president is too well protected.”
“Maybe he is and maybe he isn’t. But as all of us know, he almost bought it recently inside the White House.”
Reel added, “And the North Koreans are known for having some of the most ruthless assassins in the world. And like the suicide bombers in the Middle East, they don’t mind if they die.”
“I can’t believe they would pull that trigger,” said Marks. “We would annihilate them.”
Tucker rose. “We’ll cross that bridge when and if we have to.”
Reel stepped forward. “Fine, but let’s get one thing straight. You try and lay any of this at our feet, it won’t just be the North Koreans coming for you.”
Tucker got in her face. “How dare you threaten me.”
“It’s not a threat. It’s more than a threat, Director. And as you know very well, when someone hurts me or someone I care about, I hurt them back. I don’t care what flag they’re carrying.”
She turned and left the room.
D
ON’T EVER LET ME IN
a room with that man again, because only one of us will come out alive,” said Reel. “And it won’t be him.”
They were back in the States and in Robie’s apartment.
“I don’t want to be in the same building as the guy, much less the same room,” said Robie as he moved around the kitchen making them a meal.
Reel poured a fresh cup of coffee and leaned against the sink, watching him maneuver pots, pans, and dishes.
“You get domestic much?” she asked.
“I live alone. I can’t eat out all the time. My repertoire is limited, but it fills the bill.” He held up two boxes. “Pasta or rice?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I haven’t seen any food go down your throat for about forty-eight hours. How can you not be hungry? It wasn’t like they overfed us at the Burner.”
Reel sighed resignedly. “Pasta.”
Robie heated some water in a large pot.
Reel said, “You know this is going to blow up into some huge international incident.”
“Probably,” said Robie as he looked in the pantry for some marinara sauce.
“And they’ll probably send us out again to clean it all up.”
Robie found the sauce and then tossed her a loaf of hard bread. “Get a knife, cut this loaf into small sizes, and take out your frustrations. Pretend Evan Tucker has been magically transformed into olive bread.”
While she was cutting, Reel said, “To hell with it. If they ask, I’m not going to do it. Are you?”
“Depends on what they ask and who’s doing the asking.”
He poured the noodles into the boiling water and then cracked open a bottle of wine and pulled two glasses from a cabinet. He poured the wine and handed one glass to Reel while he took a sip from the other and started cutting up some vegetables.
“What I know,” began Robie, “is that DD Marks told us to stand down and gave us time off. And I, for one, can use it. I’m too old for the Burner Box crap they pulled. And you’re not that much younger than me.”
“In dog years I’m far older,” pointed out Reel. “And that’s what I feel like, a dog. An old, washed-up dog.”
Robie finished cutting the vegetables and then began to sauté them in a heated pan that was on the cooktop. He took a sip of wine and glanced toward the window where outside the rain was bucketing down.
“General Pak said don’t let them hurt his family.”
Reel nodded. “Right. In North Korea it’s guilt by association. The labor camps over there are all based on that. If Mom and Dad get arrested and sent there, so do the kids. That way they cleanse the generations of ‘undesirables’ or whatever bullshit term they use.”
“I know that. But I checked Pak out. His wife is dead. He’s over seventy, so I assume his parents are probably dead. And he has no kids.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“Not that I could find. The briefing said he was an only child.”
Reel drank her wine down and poured another glass. “I don’t know, Robie. That is odd. Speaking of family, what about Julie?”
“She’s not my family.”
“Close as you’ve got, I’m thinking.”
“I haven’t talked to her since before we left for the Burner Box.”
“Time off, like you said. You should hook up with her.”
“And why do you care?”
“I like to live vicariously through people more normal than I. Which is basically everyone on the planet, present company excluded.”
Robie checked his watch. “How about we invite her for dinner? You watch the food, I go get her.”
“You’re serious?”
“Why not? She really seemed to like you.”
Reel took a sip of her wine and studied him. “You think?”
“Actually, I know. She told me she thought you were cool.”
Reel considered this and then glanced at the cooking food. “I suck in the kitchen. How about you call and I go get her while you play domesticated?”
Robie smiled and tossed her his car keys. “You’re on.”
Julie was available and Reel picked her up outside her town house in Robie’s car.
She slipped into the passenger seat and looked at Reel. “So you guys survived wherever it was you went?”
“Actually the jury’s still out on that.”
Julie put on her seat belt as Reel drove off fast. “Any fresh wounds?” she asked.
Reel said, “Only on the inside.”
“Those hurt the worst.”
“Believe me, I know.”
“So how is Robie?”
“He’s glad to be back,” replied Reel.
“I’ve been watching the news for any global catastrophe so I might find out where you were.”
“And?”
Julie shrugged. “And none seemed to match you two.” She gazed out the windshield at the pouring rain. “You and Robie seem tight.”
“We are. Or as tight as someone can be with him.”
“Do you have anyone else you’re tight with?” asked Julie.
“Used to. Not anymore.”
“Because they’re not around anymore?” asked Julie.
“Something like that.”
“Robie really respects you. I can tell.”
“I would imagine there aren’t many who he does respect,” replied Reel.
“I bet you’re the same.”
“We trained together, Robie and me,” said Reel. “He was the best, Julie. I always thought I was, but I have to admit, he’s better.”
“Why?”
“The intangibles. On the big stuff we’re equal. Even he would agree with that. It’s the small stuff, though, where I fall behind. Sometimes I let my emotions get the better of me.”
“That only means you’re human. I wish Robie would let that happen to him more often. He keeps it all inside.”
“Which is exactly what we’re trained to do,” Reel pointed out.
“A job isn’t everything, is it? It’s not your whole life.”
“Some jobs are. Our jobs are; at least mine used to be.”
“And now?” asked Julie.
Reel glanced at her as she steered the car through the wet streets and over a bridge into D.C.
“Maybe I’m starting a transition phase.”
“Into another job, or retiring?”
“Retiring? How old do you think I am?” Reel chuckled, but Julie’s expression remained serious.
“Robie told me you don’t retire from the sort of work you two do.”
Reel glanced at her again. “He did?”
Julie nodded.
“Well, then it must be true. I’ve never known Will Robie to bullshit.”
Julie put a hand on Reel’s arm. “But you can make it true. You can be the first to do it.”
Reel stared out the window at the storm that had come in from the Ohio Valley earlier and looked like it wanted to stay a while.
“I’m not sure I’m a good candidate to be a trendsetter.”
“Really? I think you might be the perfect choice.”
“You don’t know me that well,” said Reel.
“So why did you come and pick me up and not Robie?”
This question caught Reel off guard. “He…he was making dinner and I’m a crappy cook.”
“So it was his idea for you to come get me?”
“No. I mean, yes. I might have suggested—”
Julie continued to study her. “So you wanted to talk to me alone? There’s no crime in that.”
A few moments of silence passed.
Reel said, “Robie told me about you. How you
…
”
“Made a transition to a new life?”
“You’re way too perceptive for your age.”
“I’m a lot older than I look.” Julie tapped her chest. “In here. You get that. I know you do. You’ve had shit in your life. And I’m not just talking with your job. I mean when you were my age, younger. I can tell. I just can. It was like me, right?”
Reel turned down a side street, pulled to the curb, and put the car in park. “Robie told me you were super smart and had been through hell, but still, how can you tell?” she asked quietly. “I play my cards close.”
“It’s in your eyes. It’s in your skin. It’s in how you walk. It’s in how you talk. I see it all over you. And I bet you see it all over me.”
Reel slowly nodded. “You see, Julie, it’s just that…” She couldn’t seem to make the words come out. It was like a hand was around her throat.
Julie gripped her arm and squeezed. “It’s just that you’re scared. I know you’re brave and can probably take down twelve guys at one time.” She paused. “But you’re still scared because you’re wondering if this is all there is for you.”
Reel was nodding before she finished.
Julie said, “I can’t answer that for you. But you can, Jessica Reel.
You
can.”
A
FTER DINNER WAS OVER, ROBIE
drove Julie back home.
Reel sat down in a chair in his living room and looked around. It was growing late, but she really had nowhere to go. Her cottage on the Eastern Shore was destroyed. Her property in the Keystone State was gone from her too. Because of what had happened up there she could never go back. She could go to a hotel. She probably would have to. But right now, right now she just wanted to sit in this chair, close her eyes, and not think about anything.
That was not to be.
Her phone buzzed. She looked down at it and then sat bolt upright. She recognized the number.
She had not had a call from this person in years. Many, many years.
Every other time she had answered. She was programmed to do so.
Apparently, she was still programmed to do so.
She said, “Hello?”
A man’s voice said, “Did you remember the phone number?”
“Yes. Surprised you still have the same one after all these years.”
“Federal bureaucracy moves slowly, if at all. I’ve gotten a few promotions over the years, but the main number is still the same. And when the request came through I told them I wanted to handle it. You were and still are a very special case.”
“What request?” said Reel.
He didn’t respond right away. “Your father,” he finally said.
Reel said nothing at first. It was like a hand from the grave had just closed over her mouth.
“I don’t have a father.”
“I know in every sense of the word except biologically, you don’t. But the biological one has asked to see you, before he dies.”
“I have no interest in seeing him ever again.”
“I thought that would be your answer and I sure as hell can’t blame you.”
“He’s still in prison?”
“Absolutely. Same place. Alabama. And he’s not going anywhere. He’s currently in the prison hospital ward. Cancer. They can’t execute him because of his medical condition. He’s terminal. I was assured of that. The man will not be leaving prison alive.”
“Good. Lethal injection is fast. Cancer is slow. The more pain the better. Hell is too good for him. Anything that happens to him is too good for him. He was born a son of a bitch and he’ll die a son of a bitch and he won’t have one person to mourn him.” Reel’s voice had risen as she spoke.
“I know, but I’m just the messenger, Sally.”
“That’s not my name anymore.”
“They wouldn’t tell me what you’d changed it to. So Sally is the only one I know.”
“Okay.”
“Look, I debated whether to even bother you with this. But I decided it was ultimately your decision, not mine. I made a few calls. I sort of knew where you ended up. Pulled a few strings and they gave me your current number but not your name. Said I could make one call. It was up to you to answer it or not. They wouldn’t have even done that, but I am a fellow fed. It probably freaked you out when you saw the number.”
“It did. You know I’m no longer in Witness Protection. Haven’t been for a long time.”
“I know, but this was the only way he could think to reach out to you. Apparently he knew you were in the program. It must have come out all those years ago.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going.”
“No argument here.”
“How much longer does he have to live?”
“What? Oh, um, they didn’t really say. The doc I talked to said he was bad off. Cancer all over him. She wasn’t sure what was keeping him alive. Any day now, I guess. And then you can really lay that ghost to rest.”
Reel nodded to herself, thinking about things. “I appreciate the call.”
“Well, I wish it were over something better than this. You were very memorable, Sa—I mean, whatever name you go by now.”
“Jessica. It’s Jessica.”
“Okay, Jessica. It’s been a long time, but I’ve never come close to forgetting you. And with all the hoops I had to jump through to get to even talk to you, I imagine you’re a pretty big deal now. I’m happy for you. Always knew you’d do something special with your life.”
“I wouldn’t characterize my life as being ‘special.’”
“Well, whatever the case, I wish you the best of luck. And if you ever need anything, please call. I know you’re not in WITSEC anymore, but, well, I still care about what happens to you.”
“I appreciate that, I really do.”
“And your old man can go to hell.”
Reel clicked off and stared down at the phone in her hand.
She was still staring at it when Robie came back.
“What’s up?” he asked, taking off his coat and coming over to sit next to her.
“Nothing. How’s Julie?”
“She’s fine. She said you two had a nice talk on the drive over, but she wouldn’t tell me anything about it.”
“I like that kid more and more.”
Robie looked at the phone and then up at her. “What is it, Jessica?”
“I got a call.”
“From who?”
“WITSEC.”
“You’re not in the program anymore.”
“They reached out to me because someone reached out to them.”
“Who?”
“My father. Earl Fontaine.”