“Scott wanted me to look into a suspicion he had." Wiley glanced at Bentley. “His suspicion was correct.”
Jake studied the two men. Deep in the recesses of his mind, he’d always suspected. Too much left unexplained. He glared at Bentley. “You knew all along Collins killed Beth, didn’t you?”
Nothing.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Didn’t think I could handle it?”
“Maybe I should have. All I had were hunches, nothing conclusive.” Bentley explained. “I had our men sweep the room and they found a shamrock…but it was Savannah and St. Patrick’s Day after all. The nurse said she found it on the floor. I pulled a toxicology screen and found she’d been poisoned.”
“Why the hell did you keep this from me? A shamrock? That’s the bastard’s calling card.” Jake’s face flushed.
“This is why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d go off half-cocked in search of Collins.” Bentley said.
“That decision was mine to make.” Jake’s voice grew louder. “Dammit, you should have told me. Maybe I could have done something about it. My parents might still be alive.”
“You’re right, Jake. I should have told you, I’m sorry.” Bentley exchanged glances with Wiley. “There’s something else I haven’t told you. About your parents.”
“What about my parents?” Jake's voice cracked.
“They’re not dead.” Bentley shifted his weight from one to another. “I have them in protective custody. They’re living in one of my safe houses in D.C.”
“But, the funeral?” Jake’s brow furrowed. “The caskets?”
“All a ruse to keep them safe until we find Collins. I’m sorry I kept this from you but I needed it to look real. For their sake, your reaction needed to be genuine.”
"You son of a bitch." Jake clenched his fists. "First you don't tell me Collins killed Beth and now you tell me my parents have been alive all along. You
let
Collins burn down my parents' house."
“I’ve had a guard living with your parents since Beth’s funeral. We located Collins after he killed Beth and sent a team to take him out.” Bentley glanced at Wiley, then to Jake. “Somehow Collins got the drop on my men, got them to reveal your father was involved and had pressured me into sanctioning the hit on him. Then he killed them. During the operation, one of Mr. Wiley’s emissaries was injured, the other survived unscathed. But ultimately, Collins got away.”
Jake turned to Wiley.
“Remember your blind date?” Wiley asked.
Jake nodded.
“Collins put that scar on her face. It will serve as a permanent reminder of her failure on that mission.” Wiley touched his cheek.
"That’s why I had your parents under protection detail. I knew, sooner or later, Collins would try to kill your father." Bentley moved closer to Jake. "If it weren't for my guard, they'd be dead."
"That doesn't excuse you from not telling me." Jake's voice grew louder.
Wiley grabbed Jake’s arm. “Come work for me, Jake, and you’ll have an understanding of a world beyond anything you’ve ever imagined.” Wiley reached into his briefcase and pulled out a folder. “This will be your first assignment.”
“What is it?”
“Come to work for the Fellowship and you can have it. Trust me, you want this assignment. Right now, more than anything else in this world. Accept, and I’ll explain everything.”
He thought about it for a few seconds. Bentley had just dropped two bombs on him, both betrayals in Jake’s eyes. Even if the director hadn’t fired him, he knew he could never work for the man or the agency again…not after covering up his parents’ deaths.
He wasn’t sure why but he extended his hand to Wiley. “I accept.”
Wiley shook his hand then passed him the folder. While Wiley and Bentley watched, Jake read the file. A sinister smile crept across his face.
Once again, the old man was one step ahead of him.
CHAPTER 74
J
AKE JUMPED FROM the speedboat and pulled the photo from his coat pocket. While Wiley retrieved his backpack, Jake compared the photo to the hillside as it sloped upward in front of him. He spotted the villa, his destination. The final chapter of the ordeal in Savannah that had plagued him for months was closing forever. When he finished his business here, Ian Collins would be dead.
Twelve hours earlier when Jake accepted Wiley’s offer, the two older men—Wiley and Bentley—returned to their meeting while Jake waited in the luxurious lobby of The Greenbrier Hotel. He talked to his parents on Bentley’s secure phone. He felt like he was getting part of his life back. Afterwards, he took time to memorize every detail in the file Wiley left with him. Two hours later, he and Wiley were in the same black limo on their way to the Greenbrier Valley Airport.
The closest airport to Ios with a runway long enough to accommodate Wiley’s jet was on the Greek island of Thira, thirty-five kilometers south of his destination. Wiley had arranged for a speedboat to pick them up on Thira and take them to Ios.
“How did you find out where Collins was hiding?” Jake started the query as soon as they were wheels up to Thira.
“My intel network was able to trace him from the letter he sent to Bentley. It wasn’t very difficult…which bothers me. This is probably a trap.”
“A trap? Why would he bother?”
“Think about it Jake. He’s taunting you. It’s you he’s been after all along and he’s baiting you to come to him. Otherwise we would never know where he was. He left subtle clues he knew we would find. Clues that led us to Ios. He’ll be waiting for you, rest assured.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to be smarter than him.” Jake fell silent. “What’s with this Fellowship thing?”
“The Greenbrier Fellowship…” Wiley leaned back in his leather chair, interlocked his fingers and rested them on his stomach. “…has seventy members from all over the world. Originally it was much smaller and all the members were Americans but as our arena of operations grew, the need to bring in more members from other parts of the world increased. Our members are people of influence and power, like Scott Bentley, in the fields of business, military, media, politics, banking…the list goes on. We only meet once a year at The Greenbrier Hotel but we have smaller, committee style meetings every quarter at different locales. We discuss a lot of the world’s issues and sometimes, however rare, we decide intervention is necessary.”
“What do you mean by intervention?” Jake asked. “You mean assassination?”
“If necessary, yes.” Wiley pulled a newspaper from his briefcase, drew a circle around a small news clip, and handed the paper to Jake. “A lot of times our intervention is more subtle.”
Wiley told Jake how his ‘emissaries’ technically worked for him but were involved in special projects for the Fellowship. The old man pointed to the newspaper article and explained about the recent uprisings in some Middle Eastern countries such as Yemen, Bahrain, Libya, and Egypt. The Fellowship had emissaries in place in each of those countries working with the locals to bring about instability. The Fellowship anticipated the domino effect would occur once the first nation had its uprising. Citizens would rally against their leaders and regimes would fall, usually in bloodshed, and hopefully a democratic society would rise in its place.
Jake and Wiley followed the narrow streets of Ios as they wound their way up the hillside toward the villa where the Irishman lived. The arid landscape was cluttered with whitewashed stone houses, churches and local businesses. Tenders were shuttling hundreds of passengers from a cruise ship moored in the harbor to shore. The waterfront had become a beehive of tourists, swarming in and out of every shop. He was glad to escape that madness.
“No toys on this one?” He had learned Wiley was much more than just the toymaker; he was a resourceful man and a wise counselor.
“No toys, Jake. This one’s old school.” Jake saw Wiley staring at him. “In a few minutes you’re going to have to make some life and death decisions.” Wiley said.
“ I know.” Jake said. “And I’m going to kill that Irish bastard once and for all.”
“That’s not what I mean. This time it will be harder.” Wiley continued. “You’re going to be tested, conflicted, and possibly disappointed. Use your skills. Listen to what you know and make your decision. Follow your instincts.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jake asked. “Why does everything have to be so cryptic?”
“Jake, I’m putting my faith in you to make the right decision. Like I said earlier, old school.” Wiley paused. “Now let’s get to work.”
Jake listened, not really sure what Wiley was talking about. He’d noticed the man had a flair for dramatics. He just chalked it up to another of the old man’s eccentricities.
Even in early November the weather on Ios Island was warm and sunny. Both men were dressed like tourists in white pants and floral shirts.
Jake was no longer the man he once was. Death had hardened him. Now, he knew Collins had murdered Beth and then tried to execute his parents. His anger fueled his hatred. He realized, as Wiley had forewarned, he was walking into a trap. He’d played it through in his mind dozens of times in the past few hours, thought of every scenario, but he couldn’t help from feeling there was something he was still missing.
The Irishman had lured him to a final showdown, but for what purpose?
Jake and Wiley were halfway to the villa when Wiley stopped. “Jake, give me your gun.”
“What?”
“Give me your gun.” Wiley reiterated. “You have to go in unarmed.”
CHAPTER 75
“
U
NARMED. ARE YOU crazy?”
Wiley hesitated, then pulled out a photograph and handed it to Jake.
He studied the photograph for a few seconds and the missing piece fell into the puzzle. “Guess I’m the collateral damage this time?”
“She’s my granddaughter.” Wiley said. “She’s all I have left, I’m sorry. He said you have to go in unarmed or he’ll kill her. I had no choice.”
He handed the photograph back to Wiley, reached behind him, pulled out his Glock, and handed the pistol to the old man. “Collins doesn’t leave witnesses, you know. After he kills me, he’ll come after you. Then, when he grows tired of Kyli, he’ll kill her as well.” Jake turned and walked up the hill.
When he reached the villa he peeked in a window, Collins appeared to be asleep in the chair. His face was the same but his hair was full silver, the white blaze against the darker hair gone. His eyes were closed, an e-reader in his lap under his left hand, his right hand to his side.
Jake stepped back and slowly turned the doorknob, unlocked. He assessed the doorway for traps then pushed it open.
The Irishman’s villa was lavishly furnished, pictures of his homeland Ireland dotted the walls. The front door opened into a large living area where Collins had a solid cherry computer desk, big-screen television, matching leather sofa, and recliner—which he was sitting in. Behind Collins he could see a breakfast nook and a large kitchen.
Jake kept his eyes trained on Collins as he entered the room, not knowing what to expect next. Then it happened.
“Jake Pendleton.” Collins spoke behind closed eyes. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Collins opened his eyes and Jake’s world flashed back. One blue eye, one brown eye. He recalled the man from Savannah and the chamber in Ireland. Collins was the scariest man he’d ever met.
Collins raised his hand, exposing his silenced Beretta. He pointed it at Jake.
“As you requested, I’m unarmed.” Jake raised his arms and turned a full circle. “Now, release Kyli.”
“All in due time.” Collins smiled. “Don’t you want to hear why I killed your fiancée and your parents?”
“Not particularly, no.”
“But you must.” Collins said. “I insist.”
“You killed Beth.” Jake interrupted. “But not my parents. They’re still alive.”
“You’re bluffing.” Collins’ expression changed, brow furrowed, and his cold, mismatched eyes seemed to darken. “I saw the newspapers. I read the reports.”
“All fabricated for your benefit and you fell for it.” Jake said. “Bentley had been waiting for you to make your move for months. That’s why he had guards watching my parents.”
Collins fell silent. A man who abhors failure, especially his own. “Now, I’m going to kill you.” Jake said.
“Unlikely, Mr. Pendleton, as I am the one holding the gun. I allowed you to find me. And you should ask yourself, why?”
“Let Kyli go first, then you can explain it to me.”
“That is not going to happen.” Collins walked over and tapped the spacebar on his computer keyboard. “You see, Jake. I don’t trust you.”
When the side-by-side monitors came to life, Jake saw the two live video feeds, one of Kyli and one of a timer. The monitor on the left showed Kyli, bound and gagged in a small room. The reflection of sunlight danced back and forth along the wall behind her. The monitor on the right displayed a timer attached to explosives attached to a boiler. The room was dim and shadowy and the timer was set at forty-five seconds.
“Insurance.” Collins said.
“Let her go. I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“No, Jake, it’s not going to be that easy. You see she has feelings for you. I could tell at the funeral when she—”
“You’re a sick bastard, you know that?”
“Like I was saying, the young woman obviously has feelings for you but that’s a life from which you will deprived…by me.”
“Where is she?”
“In the basement, behind that door.” Collins pointed to a door in the hall. “When I leave here, you’ll have to get to her and deactivate the explosives. It will be a race against the clock. Quite frankly, I think you're too coward to try to save her.”
Years of playing chess had taught him to analyze every move, strategize attacks, anticipate counterattacks, and think at least four moves ahead. But most of all, learn your opponent’s weaknesses. Jake stared at the monitors assessing the rooms in the video feeds for options.
“You left your fiancée alone in the hospital and because of that she’s dead. Are you man enough to try to save this one…or will you run to save yourself?” Collins pointed to the basement door with his pistol. “What will it be, Mr. Pendleton?”