Silent Truth

  "Find him, Drake." Retter issued the order, then ran down the drive from the bridge and joined Rae in the parking zone to better cover Korbin.

  With so many civilians around, no agent could return fire unless he or she had a clear shot.

  "I'm at number four," Korbin said.

  Retter used his thermal imaging scope to sweep over the north bank, looking for a heat signature from the next flash. He told Rae, "You keep watch for the flash; I'm going to take a look at Korbin's position."

  "I'm on it." She swept her rifle systematically across the opposite bank.

  "Number four disarmed," Korbin said a minute later, calm and controlled.

  Retter watched Korbin's heat signature swing toward the last bomb, his body fully exposed.

  A shot pierced the night.

  Rae called into the headset, "Second floor, two o'clock from the bridge."

  Korbin's body jerked. He cursed. The bullet had hit him.

  "How bad are you?" Retter called.

  "I'll make it," Korbin ground out.

  Rae held her weapon steady, watching.

  The next shot hit a steel beam on the bridge, then she fired and cursed. "He moved. Drake, you got him?"

  Shots echoed, striking metal... then no ping against metal.

  Korbin cursed, livid. He'd been hit again, but there was nothing any of them could do except find the shooter.

  A shot exploded from the other bank. "Got the fucker," Drake called out. "Terminated."

  Korbin stopped moving forward on the bridge. He was at the last bomb. Retter checked his watch. Seventy seconds until 10:00 PM. If the bullet wounds hadn't incapacitated Korbin, Retter estimated he could disarm the last bomb in sixty seconds, maybe less--

  "Last one's activating," Korbin yelled. "Get away from the bridge."

  Rae swung around and ran toward the damn bridge.

  Retter ran after her, yelling, "Rae!"

  She looked back at Retter. The explosion threw her off her feet sideways.

  Retter stumbled, watching in disbelief. The far end of the bridge shot up in the air, twisting, powerful steel sections wrenching and screeching. Windows of towering buildings on that side of the river blew into the offices. The smell of chemicals and sulfur stung the air. Concrete foundation buckled on the north side of the bridge.

  The mangled half of the bridge that had lifted up hung suspended for an eerie second, then crashed downward, slamming the Chicago River.

  Displaced water exploded upward, a violent wave busting over the bank.

  Silence followed so suddenly it was jarring.

  Rae jumped up from where she'd fallen, screaming, "Korbin!" She started running for the bridge. "Korbin!"

  Retter dove and tackled her to the ground. "Stop, dammit."

  "What happened to Korbin?" She rolled over, fought him, beating his arms away, but Retter wouldn't let go.

  "We've got agents on the other side, Rae."

  She finally stopped fighting him. Her breaths came out ragged in the grip of agony, but she nodded. "Right. Call 'em."

  Retter let her up and jumped to his feet. She'd lost her earpiece when she went down. He spoke into the mic and had to cup his ear to hear. "North bank report. Where are you?" He listened, then slowly turned to look across the river.

  Rae stepped forward, eyes tracking toward the same spot as if she could will the answer she wanted.

  Sunn flicked a light on and off to pinpoint his position on the north bank.

  She grabbed Retter's arm. "What about--"

  "Where's Korbin?" Retter listened. His mouth dried out. He pulled his hand down from his ear and looked at her. "Rae--"

  She swung a look at him that started out hopeful, then reflected the horror he felt.

  "He didn't make it off the bridge," Retter said, repeating what he'd been told. "Jeremy saw Korbin swinging up to the last bomb, then the shooter... we'll get divers--"

  "No! Get rescue. He. Is. Not. Dead!" she yelled.

  "It's not possible that he could have survived--"

  She turned her weapon on him. "Get the goddamn helicopters and water rescue now!"

  He grabbed her, stripping her weapon away only because she was too wrapped up in shock over Korbin's death to be a threat right then. She fought him, screaming to let her go find Korbin. She wanted blood.

  So did Retter. He understood the blinding pain of loss.

  He could knock her out, but he wouldn't do that to Rae in front of agents she'd still have to work with. What he did next would cause her almost as much humiliation, but he had no choice.

  Folding her arms in front of her, he wrapped her up in his, holding her tight. He felt the minute she broke.

  Not big sobbing tears, just a hard shuddering.

  Korbin had saved thousands. But he couldn't have survived.

  BAD would make someone pay for taking one of their own.

  Hunter accepted the hand Mako offered him and climbed up over the edge of the cliff, then took five steps. "Where is she?"

  Abbie shot out of the darkness. "Are you okay?" She launched into Hunter's arms, trembling.

  "I'm fine." He hugged her close, amazed at the feeling. He wanted this. Wanted her, but he'd screwed up so badly Joe and Tee might bury him.

  "She's gotta go now, Hunter," Mako said. "Got a helicopter landing to pick up her and Jackson. I slowed the blood flow, but he's thready. Might not make it to the medical center."

  "He talking at all?" Hunter asked, loath to release Abbie, though he knew he had to in order to have any hope of saving her and her mother.

  "Talking his head off in trade for pain medicine, especially after I cut the circulation off to his hand." A sound came out of Mako's throat that reverberated with disgust. "Not so dangerous when you take his rifle away."

  Hunter wanted to know one thing. "He tell you what he gave Abbie and her mother?"

  "Not yet."

  Abbie shook from shock and cold.

  Hunter hugged her, turning her toward the helicopter.

  "Sorry, Hunter. Joe said you had to stay with me."

  Abbie looked up at Hunter. "Who are these people and why can't you come with me?"

  He gripped her hand for an extra second, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her. This might be his last chance. When he broke the kiss, he cupped her face. "I can't tell you--"

  "Dammit," she shouted, and backed out of his arms as though he had leprosy. "I trusted you! With my life. With my mother's life. And you can't trust me with anything?"

  "Abbie, you don't understand."

  "You're right, I don't. You said you--" She shook her head, refusing to repeat his words.

  He'd told her he loved her. He did.

  She looked over at Stoner, one of the two extra agents Joe had sent. "Are you taking me back?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  She nodded and walked over to Stoner.

  Hunter cursed himself a thousand times over for letting things get so out of shape with Joe that he couldn't leave with Abbie, because Mako would use his weapon if necessary. "Abbie, wait."

  She swung around, eyes fiery with a level of disappointment he'd never expected. "I'm through waiting. I've waited and waited for you to give me an inch. Love is important, but it's nothing without trust." She glanced at Mako. "I appreciate every one of you helping to get that genetic mistake to the medical center for my mother, but I'm done with all this."

  Looking back one last time at Hunter, she added, "Go back to your secret life. I can't live that way."

  His insides withered at the finality in her voice. She was done with him and he couldn't blame her. His lack of trust had smacked her every time she'd offered her trust in return. If he hadn't alienated his team she wouldn't have walked into the lair of an assassin and ended up dangling off the side of a mountain.

  With a ticking bomb.

  Abbie disappeared into the darkness with Stoner.

  "How'd you find JC?" Mako asked Hunter once Abbie and Stoner were out of earshot.

/>   Talking would be easier without a knot of disappointment in his throat. Hunter coughed to clear his voice. "The guy with the scar." He stopped and wheeled on Mako. "Did you find him on your way up the path, about halfway?"

  "No. Show me."

  Hunter guided Mako to the spot where he'd left the mystery guy. Two cut plastic handcuffs dangled from a limb.

  He shook his head. "How could he have gotten out of that?"

  Mako lifted both pieces with a pen and slipped them into a plastic bag he produced from a jacket pocket.

  "Bet the only prints are mine," Hunter told him.

  "I wouldn't take that bet." Mako's phone buzzed. He answered it, then listened a minute and hung up. "Jackson is stable. A Dr. Murphy from Johns Hopkins is reviewing the files on Abbie's mother and waiting to see Abbie. Says he knows what's wrong with her mother."

  Hunter had lined up Murphy for her mother, but now he was doubly thankful since Abbie needed the doctor as well. "Can he cure them?"

  "Possibly. Murphy said Abbie's mother was given a synthetic disease that attacks the spleen. He believes he can stop the disease and maybe reverse the damage with a treatment that includes a transfusion loaded with the same white cells as her natural blood. If Jackson makes it to the medical center alive, she may live."

  "Jackson gave Abbie something, too," Hunter said.

  "Murphy won't know what Abbie's diagnosis is until he runs tests on her."

  Hunter considered overpowering Mako to get to Abbie, but Retter had made it clear what he'd do to Abbie and Borys if Hunter gave them any trouble. He had to tell himself that Abbie was safe for now and finish this op to have any chance of making peace with Joe and Tee. Hunter doubted that was possible, but he wouldn't screw the only chance he had to show he could work with the team.

  But what about Todd and his family? "You get the bomb location to Joe?"

  Mako nodded. "Retter's there already."

  That didn't meant they knew everything. "It's a bridge--"

  "With five bombs."

  "Have they disarmed them yet?"

  "Korbin got four before the last one detonated. Damage is minimal compared to what it could have been."

  "No buildings came down?" Hunter was trying to read Mako's reaction.

  "So far, only one casualty. Korbin."

  Chapter Forty-five

  It sounds as though the damage was not as extensive as anticipated," Ostrovsky said, opening the conference-call meeting with five members of the council of Angeli. He'd placed the call the minute he'd received word of the bombings. Vestavia had called him immediately to share his good news about Bardaric's failure. "The prime minister surviving is good, yes?"

  "What the hell happened?" Chike demanded.

  "Bardaric has been running his own operation for a while," Vestavia answered. "He lied about delivering materials for three bombing. We've found his people who were involved with the Chicago bombing. They're all squealing and said Bardaric only delivered enough for one bombing."

  Renaldo interjected, "I, for one, think he got better than he deserved. MI6 was much nicer, with a bullet between his eyes, than I would have been, given the opportunity. We must replace him and take care we do not allow this to happen again."

  "Anyone know where he was keeping this apparently bogus supply of UX, just in case it exists?" Vestavia asked.

  Ostrovsky addressed his question. "I did some checking and believe the 'accidental' bombing in a small Ukrainian town a month ago was the test for Bardaric's bomb. I don't know that the bomb material is going to be our issue. My sources tell me Bardaric's sniper told the U.S. authorities where to find Bardaric and where he hid his research facilities. I would say if we wait a week or two, our contacts within the intelligence organizations will be able to confirm if Bardaric's UX reserves were located."

  Ostrovsky waited until everyone agreed, then added, "We're fortunate the MI6-turned-assassin working for Bardaric was stopped. Our intention was never to start World War Three."

  "Not at this time," Vestavia joked, clearly happy now that his nemesis had been neutralized. "Let's get back on track and continue dismantling each continent in an orderly way."

  "Speaking of getting back on track, what has become of Peter Wentworth and his daughter?" Derain asked, his tone bulging with suspicion.

  Ostrovsky had been waiting on Stoke to ask that so he didn't have to, but Derain was even better.

  "Peter and Gwen disappeared, along with all of his Fratelli staff, before Bardaric's assassin was caught," Vestavia answered, clearly not happy to be put on the spot. "I have no idea. The secret wing in Kore burned to the ground, damaging part of the public area of the women's center. All records relating to the Fratelli were removed. Bardaric might even have them stashed somewhere, if they're still alive. He was hell-bent on ensuring I would have no allies here, but if he thought removing Wentworth would cripple me he underestimated me and the extent of my resources."

  "Speaking of which, have you located your mole, Vestavia?" Stoke asked.

  "Yes. I'm taking care of that as soon as we finish here."

  Ostrovsky finished up the meeting and ended the call. He sat back in his overstuffed office chair, contemplating the sun burning off the fog in downtown Boston outside his living room window.

  The Denver mission was not an entirely successful operation but was also not a complete loss since Jackson had pinned the whole mess on Bardaric, right down to the attempt on the prime minister's life.

  Jackson had told the authorities Bardaric had been the person directing him. Yes, Jackson would have told the FBI and anyone else that he'd been a paid killer for some crazy guy who believed he supported a cause. The name Fratelli never came up in the report Ostrovsky had gotten his hands on.

  He'd chosen well twenty-seven years ago when he killed Jackson's father and became the boy's benefactor, guiding his education and destiny.

  The greatest casualty in all of this was Jackson.

  He'd served Ostrovsky exceptionally by convincing Vestavia that Bardaric had been behind the unauthorized killings in the U.S.

  Jackson was loyal to the end, sending the U.S. after Bardaric, which took care of Ostrovsky's problems. Then Jackson ended his own life, as they'd always discussed. He'd used one of his small fingernails to slice his wrist.

  Vestavia had been right to worry about Bardaric being the most dangerous of the seven on their Angeli council... until now.

  None of the other five had considered who the second-most dangerous one might be. Ostrovsky pressed the speed dial on his cell phone and waited until the clicking finished so he could speak over a secure line.

  When his Asian contact answered, Ostrovsky told him, "We will have a new UK representative soon. How is my project coming?"

  Linette walked into the reception area outside Vestavia's office, where Basil and Frederick waited. She took stock of her counterparts and the past twenty-four hours.

  The mission had failed according to Fratelli terms. She and the other two had to answer for their parts.

  She'd worn a windbreaker over her blouse and slacks. Vestavia had called her twenty minutes ago and ordered her to his office. Bed heads and casual clothes on the other two meant they'd also received little notice. She'd grabbed the first thing she could find that would hide any trembling.

  Basil looked grim, but when he caught her eye he shrugged, as if to say "Some things are out of our control."

  Not true. She'd been in full control of sending the bomb locations the minute she could. If she'd been able to leave Vestavia faster once she had the information she might have gotten it to them in time to disarm all five bombs. One had gone off, but there had been only one casualty. Not thousands.

  Still, someone had died because she couldn't give them five or ten more minutes' notice.

  Vestavia would not be forgiving.

  Her conscience would have been less forgiving if she'd allowed thousands of innocent people to die. She steeled herself to face her punishment for failur
e and prayed he hadn't discovered that she'd leaked the information.

  Basil lifted his eyebrows suggestively and winked. So sure of winning something--her--out of this mission.

  She ignored him.

  Vestavia opened the door and walked away--their sign to enter.

  Linette tried to breathe normally but all she could manage were painful little drags of air through her constricted throat. She took her usual position next to the brass statue, standing with straight posture, eyes staring dead ahead.

  Basil and Frederick filed in behind her, closing the door, then standing next to her. Three lieutenants in a line.

  "Fra, I know there were problems--" Basil started.

  Vestavia held up his hand, which brought immediate silence. "Actually, this project went better than I anticipated."

  Linette blinked twice quickly but maintained her stance.

  Vestavia went to his desk and lifted a file. "Yes, in spite of the underwhelming results of the Chicago bombing, I did get something I've been searching for."

  Basil and Frederick relaxed immediately.

  Linette had worked with Vestavia long enough to understand the meaning of his deceptively happy voice. He was anything but.

  "I've kept close tabs on all of you." He strolled along in front of them, holding the file behind him in the image of Hitler addressing his men. "One of you has been a very busy person."

  Frederick's skin seemed to shrink and lose color.

  Linette's hands were icy and damp. Had Vestavia found a second ghost on the computers? She'd been forced to wait until the very last minute to send her online contact the coordinates, and routing the post had taken extra time.

  She'd been careful, but maybe not careful enough.

  Vestavia smiled at Basil. "I've seen you here late at night putting in overtime. Long hours every day."

  Basil's cheeks puckered, but he didn't smile, though she could feel how much he wanted to gloat at what he clearly perceived as a compliment.

  "You've certainly worked hard to show me how bright and dedicated you are." Vestavia's voice lightened, as if he were happy about something. "I have to admit, I'm impressed."

  "Thank you, Fra," Basil said.

  When Vestavia turned to stroll back the other way, Basil sent Linette a confident leer.