Ghost Rendition Page 21

  “Danny?” Caroline said.

  “He’s gone,” Pratt said, finally.

  “Westfield?” I asked.

  “Both of them,” Pratt said.

  I should have seen it. Rob’s plan was perfect. He’d get Westfield, and Westfield’s guys would get us. It would all be tied up perfectly, no mess left behind. He could tell any story he wanted to the Agency.

  “We can’t let them take you,” Caroline said to Pratt.

  “What’s the plan?” Pratt asked.

  How could you shoot him when he asked questions liked that? It was like killing Bambi.

  “Oh,” Pratt said, finally catching on.

  I knew Caroline was right. I admired her having the strength to pull the trigger. It also made me hate her a little bit. She pressed her Browning to Pratt’s temple.

  “Back up or he dies,” she shouted.

  The gliders stopped advancing, probably checking with Westfield. What would they do when he didn’t answer? The usual protocol would be to follow the last orders given. That would mean terminating Caroline and me. This was the time to take care of Pratt. I saw the look on Caroline’s face. It was the first time I saw what this cost her. Then she was back to complete calm. I looked away. I didn’t want to see Pratt die.

  Carolyn hesitated and an explosion sent the three of us to the ground. Two more explosions followed in quick succession. I didn’t know what was happening, but if I was on the ground, then there was a good chance the gliders were too. Nachash could recover from even the hardest hits in seconds. I was slower, but I was better than the gliders. I was on them before they could process why they were on their asses. Caroline was right behind me. We slid the muzzles of our Brownings under the chinstraps of their head gear and killed each of them with a single round.

  Caroline and I crawled to the front door and peered through where the front windows used to be. The entire left side of the façade was blown out, and Rob was seated in an open-top Jeep with a big stupid smile on his face, and a rocket launcher on his shoulder.

  Pratt went from looking stunned to like we had just thrown him a birthday party. “I knew Rob wouldn’t let us die,” he said. He jumped up, almost fell over on wobbly legs, and then bound out through what was left of the door. “Where did you get the rocket launcher?” he yelled to Rob.

  It was actually a recoilless rifle. They don’t have the range of an RPG but they are super-lightweight and can fire heavy shells. Rob had not only taken out the front of the Big House, he had leveled the trees on either side of the property, bringing down the snipers with them. I hoped that Suzanne’s homeowner’s insurance covered surface-to-surface projectile damage.

  “Nice of you to show up,” I said to Rob.

  “Who says I couldn’t have been a field agent?” He jumped out of the Jeep. “I’ve never fired one of those before. They are sensational. I want five more of them for my birthday.”

  “Easy cowboy,” Caroline said. “That’s the adrenaline talking.”

  “I want more of that too,” Rob said.

  “I like you this way. You’re almost fun,” I said.

  “I’m always fun,” he said.

  “Where’s Westfield?” Caroline asked.

  “Going to ground, upstate. I put a tracker on his car. I can have him picked up anytime. I found his command setup. I have enough evidence to turn his most stubborn allies against him.”

  “How did you find his car?” I asked.

  “It was sitting in the driveway.”

  “And his files weren’t encrypted?” I said.

  “You don’t think they’re genuine?” Rob said. “Then why did he run?”

  “I think you’re going to get the chance to ask him,” I said.

  An Aston Martin Rapide S with tinted windows came wheeling around the corner. Caroline and I pulled out our Brownings. Westfield emerged from the car and sauntered toward us. He was carrying a Walther PPK, which like the Aston Martin, was right out of a James Bond movie.

  “Isn’t that a little cliché?” I said.

  “Who says that work can’t be fun?” he said.

  “Did you come to surrender yourself?” Rob said.

  “You killed a lot of very expensive contractors, that’s all,” Westfield said.

  “If they were expensive, then you got ripped off,” Caroline said.

  “It was a seller’s market. I had hoped that I wouldn’t have to clean up their mess, but at least they had the good sense not to complicate matters by surviving,” Westfield said.

  “Why go through all the trouble of planting the fake evidence and making it look like you fled, if you were only going to show up here?” Rob said. I could hear his manic energy start to ebb.

  “How else would I be able to take Pratt and kill you?” Westfield said.

  “Buying the car and the gun doesn’t make you James Bond,” Caroline said.

  What was he up to? I knew he had a good poker face, but it felt like he was gloating not bluffing.

  “Do you know what separates a great intelligence officer from a pedestrian one? Knowing what to focus on, ignoring the noise and the misdirection, and seeing what the true threat is, that’s the key,” Westfield said.

  “Unless you plan on talking us to death, you’re outgunned, so put your 007 toy on the ground,” I said.

  “You see, you focused on my gun, when you should have been focusing on this,” Westfield said and held up a small black remote in his left hand. He theatrically pressed a button and the backseat window of the Aston Martin lowered, revealing Suzanne and Devon, tied and gagged. “Before you do something stupid, this remote is keyed to an explosive device that will destroy my favorite car and your family along with it,” Westfield said.

  I weighed the odds that I could shoot him in the head and kill him before he could work the remote. The only sure way was to hit him in the brain stem, which was an almost impossible shot even from relatively close range.

  “My command setup is in my car. While you were chasing after my fake setup, I was busy emailing your son that I would kill you if he and his mother didn’t come back to the house. They’re loyal, albeit not very bright,” Westfield said.

  I wanted to shoot him so badly that my hand trembled.

  “What do you want?” Rob asked.

  “I already told you. I get Pratt and you get to die. And she’s going to shoot you,” Westfield said.

  He wanted Israel to take the blame. It was a nice touch. “That wraps up all the loose ends except me,” I said.

  “You’re going to get what I offered you to begin with, a real retirement. You and your family relocate and are never heard from again, out of sight, out of mind, out of harm. I could kill you all, but it wouldn’t be in the Christmas spirit.”

  “We get to live as long as I back up your story and corroborate that Caroline had no choice in killing Rob,” I said.

  “You’re not as stupid as your recent performance would indicate,” Westfield said.

  “I become an international pariah and he gets the golden parachute?” Caroline said. “Here’s another idea, I shoot you in the head and we all live happily ever after.”

  “There’s no way you can make the kill shot before he hits that remote,” I said, pointing my Browning at her.

  “He’s never going to live up to his deal. As soon as you confirm his story, you’re all dead,” she said.

  “It buys me time. Lower your gun.”

  “You know I can’t do that,” Caroline said.

  “Isn’t this fun?” Westfield asked.

  “I’ve thought a lot about shooting you, and I don’t want to, but this is my family,” I said.

  “And this is my job,” she said.

  “What would you do if it was your family?”

  “We need to stay together,” Rob said.

  “Easy for you to say. Your family’s safe,” I said.

  “I’ll come with you,” Pratt said, stepping toward Westfield. “Leave them alone, and I’ll do what
you want.”

  “You’ll do what I want anyway,” Westfield said.

  Pratt raised his hands over his head and took another step in his direction.

  Rob saw what he was doing and played along. “Your secret is misdirection? Like you’re a magician?” he said to Westfield. “That sounds a little grandiose doesn’t it? It’s more like chess. You outthink your adversary or he outthinks you,” Rob said, taking two slow steps toward him.

  “Whatever the game, you’ve lost,” Westfield said. “Now lower your gun,” he said to Caroline who still had her gun trained on him.

  “Do what he says,” Rob said and took another step toward Westfield.

  Now Caroline picked up what they were doing. I gave her a nod, and we both lowered our guns slowly to waist level. Rob took another step toward Westfield. Pratt did, too.

  Westfield was hearing surrender, but he was seeing something else. He took a step back. “Get on your knees,” he yelled, a little shrilly.

  “Okay. We’re going to do exactly what you say,” Pratt said and took another step toward him.

  They were trying to back him up to the car so that he was too close to detonate it without blowing himself. Then Caroline could shoot him. Westfield wasn’t a field agent. It might work. Or he might blow them up anyway. The alternative was to give in to Westfield and then Rob and Pratt would die and Westfield would get Tiresias. It was an impossible choice, impossible until I looked over at Suzanne and Devon. All I could see was their eyes above their gags. I knew what I had to do.

  “They’re trying to back you into the car,” I said to Westfield. I put my gun down on the sidewalk.

  Pratt, Rob, and Caroline stopped moving. They couldn’t tell if this was part of the plan or if I was surrendering.

  “I’ll do whatever you want. I just want to be with my family,” I said to Westfield and walked calmly toward his car.

  Pratt took a tentative step forward. Westfield held his ground. “Last chance. I will kill you, both of you, right now if I have to,” Westfield said. “There are other programmers who can complete the program. And with all of you dead, I can make up any story I want.”

  I slid into the Aston Martin’s driver’s seat. Westfield waved his gun wildly at Pratt, Rob, and Caroline. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I hit my signal emulator. It had turned Rowan’s Jag on in under a minute. Reading Westfield’s body language, I didn’t think I had that long.

  He aimed his Walther at Rob. The Aston Martin’s motor turned over. I jammed the car in reverse and stamped down hard on the accelerator. Westfield’s head spun around. When he had proudly shown us his remote, I had seen that it was a tight band model that has limited range. I hoped it was limited enough.

  We sped up the block backward. Westfield went to hit the remote, but Pratt sprang at him. He released the blade in his cufflinks and swung his forearm at Westfield’s left eye. Westfield’s hands went to his face, and blood spurted through his fingers. People really do hate sharp things in their eyes.

  Westfield spun and shot Pratt in the chest. Caroline raised her gun and took a shot at Westfield, but it went high because Rob jumped up from his knees and tackled Westfield. He windmilled punches down on him.

  That was the last I saw as I turned the corner. I put three quick blocks between us and Westfield, jammed on the brakes, and pulled Devon and Suzanne out of the back seat. I took each of them by the arm, with me in between them, and dragged them away from the Aston Martin. I untied them and Devon gave me a big hug. I held him to my chest and looked over his head at Suzanne.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  This time I think she believed me.

  • • • • • • • • • •

  By the time I sprinted back to what was left of the Big House, Rob had Westfield tied up in the back of the Jeep. Caroline was in the driver’s seat. Pratt was next to her.

  “Just in time to be no help,” Caroline said to me.

  “Are you okay?” I asked Pratt.

  “The bullet is still in my vest,” he said proudly, opening his shirt and showing me the slug. I’d never seen anyone happier to get shot.

  “Wearing one of those won’t help if I strangle you,” Caroline said.

  “She’s mad because we uploaded the Tiresias code to the open web,” Pratt said.

  “You finished it?” I said.

  “Westfield was right about one thing, impending death is a great motivator,” Pratt said.

  “It was on the thumb drive you gave to Devon,” I said.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you,” he said.

  “That was your mission priority,” I said.

  “And keeping your family safe was yours,” he said.

  “Was that sarcastic?” I said.

  Pratt just smiled.

  Caroline motioned to me. I got a good look at Westfield as I walked over to her. His lips were puffy, and blood was oozing from his nose and a nasty cut over his right eye. His left eye was swollen shut. Pratt seemed to have pierced the lid but not taken out the eye.

  “I’m glad Rob got you before Caroline could shoot you,” I said to Westfield.

  “Your concern is touching,” Westfield said through bloated lips.

  “I’m glad because now the Israelis are going to get you, and you are going to wish you were dead.”

  I’m pretty sure Westfield blanched beneath his bruises.

  Caroline gave a throaty laugh. “It’s too bad. It could have been real,” she said to me. “But you’re still in love with your wife.”

  “I don’t think she’s still in love with me. At least she doesn’t want to be.”

  “I’m sorry I ruined your date. I tipped the Russians early. My husband wasn’t the only one who got jealous.”

  “I would have found some other way to screw it up,” I said. “Take care of him for me,” I said, nodding to Pratt.

  “I will. And don’t worry about your identity. We’ll keep it safe.”

  “Well, that should make me sleep easily.”

  “You have trust issues.” She pulled out a picture of her with a little boy and gave it to me.

  “Who’s that?”

  “My son. My real son. To help you sleep. And to remember me by.”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  She gave me one last brilliant smile before she drove off. Pratt turned back and waved like he was going off to summer camp.

  “Do you think I could recruit her?” Rob asked.

  “She’s too much even for you.”

  “How about you?”

  “She’s definitely too much for me.”

  “No, I mean are you still with me?” Rob said.

  “You mean with the Agency? Do you have enough to get back in good graces?”

  “The Israelis will get a confession out of Westfield, one way or another.”

  “And you gave them Pratt in return,” I said.

  “He’ll help them be the first to block Tiresias.”

  “It all worked out perfectly for you,” I said. He didn’t take the bait. “Is Nachash alive?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Did he recruit me for you?”

  “He fought me when I wanted to recruit you. He said you were too kindhearted.”

  I hoped that was the truth, and I grieved for him all over again.

  “If you need anything, let me know,” Rob said.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “I have full confidence in you,” he said.

  I thought about shooting him, but he knew I wouldn’t. He always knew.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “So explain it to me one more time how you ended up with this woman?”

  “Connor was the one who set it up. He wanted Spycraft for Morons to be authentic. She let me follow her for what was supposed to be routine work, and it blew up into a terrorist situation.”

  Suzanne would have made a fierce interrogator. The ambience of the Mediterranean restaurant was better than the basement th
e Suit had me in, but her technique of making me go through the story again and again to see if she could spot inconsistencies was almost as effective.

  “Why didn’t you get away once you realized it was getting dangerous?”

  “They knew my identity. I was afraid that they would go after you and Devon.”

  “Why did you end up at our house?” she said.

  “It’s still listed in my name. The terrorists tracked it down. But on the bright side, insurance is going to pay for a gorgeous remodel.”

  Even my lame humor couldn’t distract her.

  “Why did they hack the school’s servers?”

  “Looking for me as a way to get to Caroline. They’re very thorough,” I said. “I wanted to tell you all of this, but I was scared every second that you and Devon would get hurt and that’s something I couldn’t live with.” I reached across the table and took her hand for emphasis. She squeezed my hand and gently disengaged. I tried to console myself that it was better than nothing.

  “I don’t know, Gib. It’s a lot to take in. I suddenly find out you’re an expert shot? And the way you rescued us, it seemed like you knew exactly what you were doing.”

  “I’ve done a lot of training as research for my Moron books. The work is total crap, but I still wanted to do it the right way.”

  “I never said the books are total crap,” she said.

  “I did. Maybe I’ll write a novel. I could make the main character a suburban dad by day and a spy by night. It would put my research to use.”

  “I still think you should write about you and your dad. That showed real promise.”

  I kissed her on the lips when we parted. It was longer than a peck, but not much. I told her that I wanted to see her again soon. She nodded but didn’t say anything. She still wanted more. And I didn’t have anything else to give. It was a chasm we both wanted to bridge, but for all the questions and answers, we still didn’t know how.

  When I got home, I couldn’t help but feel how quiet it was. I had tried to get Suzanne and Devon to stay with me while the Big House was being rebuilt, but Suzanne had opted to stay in a hotel instead.

  I had an orange soda and some Starburst in honor of Pratt and took a long, hot shower. I tried to make sense of where I was. Connor had managed to forgive me. Stabbing Weapons for Morons had tested through the roof with his focus group, and he couldn’t wait for me to get started on Spycraft for Morons. I had not only kept my family alive, I could keep up the private school tuition and child support payments for a while longer. That had to count in my favor.