Right to Kill

  Trying to do what he asked, she forced her eyes shut.

  Fontana spoke slowly. “Take a deep breath and set the pain aside. I know it hurts, but focus only on my voice, lock everything else out. Picture yourself in a forest of fall-colored trees.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t do this—”

  “Keep your eyes closed and stay with me.”

  “Please—”

  “You’re still under the trees. There’s a slight wind blowing. A gust frees some of the leaves and they begin to flutter down to the ground. See them as they tumble through the air. Rays of sunlight brighten their colors. Feel the sensation as they brush past your skin and gather at your feet. Each one drains a tiny piece of anger and carries it away.”

  Fontana’s voice held a calming, almost hypnotic tone. She frowned, but kept her eyes closed.

  “Hundreds are falling. Then thousands. Hear the sound they make, see their swirling patterns on the ground. Anger doesn’t control you; you control it. There’re a million reasons to kill her, but only one reason not to.”

  She relived the fight earlier that evening, the mercenary’s bullets piercing Glen’s chest. His concern for their dogs. His unconditional love of her. She’d said some horrible things to him over the years when she’d been angry, and he’d always forgiven her. Fontana was right: pulling the trigger would haunt her for the rest of her life. Glen wouldn’t want that. His memory would be tainted. She might even blame him for what she’d become.

  She felt the tightness in her face ease.

  Her free hand unclenched.

  And she lowered the pistol.

  “Welcome back, Linda.”

  “Accountability,” she whispered and opened her eyes. “That’s a damned good trick, Harvey.”

  “What happened to calling me Fontana?”

  “It’s been suspended until further notice.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “I was going to do it, but I’m glad I didn’t. So where did that falling-leaves business come from. You just make it up?”

  “Nathan’s used it for years. He calls it his safety catch. A company shrink gets the credit.”

  She sat heavily on the couch, wincing at the lancing pain. “You guys continue to amaze me. Just when I think I’ve seen it all, you come up with a bunch of leaves. Killing Ursula wasn’t going to make me feel better, I know that now. Thanks for talking me down.”

  “Don’t shortchange yourself. The decision was yours alone.”

  She looked at McBride.

  And in that moment, they communicated without words.

  Each knew what the other thought and felt.

  It was one of those mysterious human experiences that defied understanding.

  “Am I that transparent?” she asked softly.

  “Actually, LG, you’re pretty guarded.”

  “When I was drugged, did I, you know . . . say anything I shouldn’t have?”

  “Nathan said you told him you loved Glen.”

  She closed her eyes against the pain. “I did love him. He was a good man.”

  “You two had a great life together. You’ll always remember the best times. Come on, let’s apply Nate’s tourniquet again before you bleed to death.”

  “He’s really alive? You weren’t just saying it?”

  Harvey looked up while he secured Ursula on the floor with plasticuffs. “To quote a line from a movie, Marines are not allowed to die without permission.”

  They both heard it, an approaching siren. Probably a fire engine.

  “We’re going to have company soon.” He stood and looked at Tomas.

  “I didn’t have a choice. He was about to shoot Nathan again.”

  “Don’t second-guess yourself. You did the right thing.” He came to her side and got the makeshift tourniquet back in place.

  “Ouch. I’ve never been shot before. This really sucks.”

  “Welcome to the club.”

  “This is one membership I could live without. We did well, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah, LG, we did well.”

  “I miss it. Being in the CIA.”

  Harvey nodded. She knew he missed it too.

  “How’s Nathan?”

  “Out cold. He’s been concussed many times so he’s more susceptible to brain trauma. He may have some fractured ribs, but the vest saved his life. He’ll be okay.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I mean . . . about him being okay.”

  Harvey smiled.

  “He took a bullet for me again,” she said. “I guess I’ve always known what happened in Caracas, I just didn’t want to accept it. Nathan forced Ursula to shoot him, not me or you.”

  “Our definition of friendship is the willingness to die for each other.”

  “I guess I’m Nathan’s friend.”

  “You most certainly are. You good for a sec? I need to contact Cantrell.”

  “This burns like all hell, but I’m good.” She tried to smile but knew it looked like a grimace. “Thanks for saving me from myself, Harvey.”

  He gave her arm a squeeze. “I’m gonna turn on the power, check on Nathan, and grab his phone.”

  She looked at Ursula’s prone form. I’m not like you. The last six hours replayed in her head again—from waking up at midnight to here and now. It seemed surreal. Many people had died getting to this point; she hoped it had been worth it. Everything Harvey said was true. For the first time in her life, she understood the true nature of death. Underneath the pain, a sadness washed through her and she wiped tears. She’d honored Glen’s memory, but he remained gone. When the lights came on, the full scene snapped to life. Blood and destruction everywhere.

  Harv returned to the couch and handed her the phone. He mouthed, Cantrell.

  “I’m here, Director.”

  “Thank you, Linda.” The phone was on speaker.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m very sorry about Glen.”

  She looked at Harv, uncertain what to say.

  “There’s no way to express in words how important the situation is, so I won’t try. You three have done outstanding work, and I won’t forget it. Follow Harvey’s lead. I’ve instructed him to stay with you during the ambulance ride and in the hospital. When you wake up from surgery, he’ll be there as well.”

  “Surgery . . .”

  “Hopefully, your hip isn’t shattered. We’ll take care of everything.”

  “Thanks.”

  The call ended and she stared at the phone. “She doesn’t say goodbye.”

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  CHAPTER 30

  FOUR DAYS LATER

  Cantrell placed the phone in its cradle and sighed. Her interrogation team hadn’t made any tangible progress with Ursula. They’d tried everything legally allowed and Ursula still hadn’t broken. The woman was driven by pure, malevolent hatred. Human life meant nothing to her, not even her own. Not breaking had become her sole reason for living. Cantrell had seen this level of resolve before. It was fairly common to radical jihadists. On the other end of the spectrum, the would-be abductor they’d captured at Genneken’s house hadn’t been driven by fanatical ideology or hatred, so breaking him had been easy.

  Before calling DNI Benson to give him the bad news, she figured she’d update McBride first—not a pleasurable call to make, but he deserved the truth. He’d risked his life delivering a live prisoner; they all had.

  Not all was lost. Cantrell hadn’t given up hope, though, because Ursula had initially warmed at being offered a new identity and relocation, but she wasn’t naïve. Ursula made it clear she knew how the game worked. Once the CIA had what it wanted, her usefulness terminated and the CIA would have no reason to fulfill its end of the bargain. She’d also expressed fear of being tortured to death by Cornejo if he ever found her.

  Unless Ursula could definitively finger Cornejo for the kinds of crimes that would put him behind bars, he’d sail into the presidency and become the leader of thirty million
people. The nuclear threat would remain and Iran would have an open path to a bomb. Not a pleasant thought. Dethroning Cornejo after the election would be much more difficult—if not impossible—because he’d be in control of the judiciary. Evidence and witnesses would disappear and judges would receive grocery bags full of cash. The time to stop him was now, before he took the presidential oath.

  I wish we could just kill the SOB, she thought.

  Frustrated didn’t begin to describe how she felt. It sickened her that Cornejo remained untouchable. Thinking about the suffering of children sold into sexual slavery made her skin crawl.

  She squinted in thought. Why not? She had nothing to lose at this point. The decision made, she picked up the phone.

  Nathan shook his head after ending the call. Ursula hadn’t broken and there was no indication anything would change before the election took place in less than a week. Cantrell had asked if he and Harv would talk with LG once more about anything she might have on Cornejo.

  Desperate times . . . desperate measures.

  Although reluctant, LG had agreed to stay in Nathan’s La Jolla home during the first week of her recovery. She needed help with everyday activities and Angelica was more than happy to assist her. He’d come by every day to check on LG, but he spent the nights in his smaller Clairemont house, a way of granting his houseguest a measure of privacy. Having been through an ordeal few ever faced, LG needed time to decompress. He had, however, gotten to know her a whole lot better over the last few days.

  When he’d arrived this morning, Linda looked positively radiant, and judging by their behavior, her two German shepherds had become quite chummy with Grant and Sherman.

  Nathan invited Harv to join them for breakfast, and here they were, all sitting at the kitchen’s island with two giant schnauzers at their feet. Linda’s dogs preferred to spend their time exploring his property in search of an elusive jackrabbit that Grant and Sherman had long ago given up trying to catch.

  Linda knew what was coming; he’d told her about his call with Cantrell.

  He’d also talked to Harv and they’d both agreed to keep the conversation as amiable as possible. Based on the direction they needed to go, a tenuous task at best.

  Harv looked at LG. “I hope you haven’t been spoiling Nathan’s mutts.”

  “Well, maybe a little.”

  “How’s your omelet?” Nathan asked.

  “It’s really good,” she said. “I like the chili; it gives it a nice kick. I can safely say this’s the best omelet I’ve ever had.”

  “Glad you like it. Angelica told me how to make it. It’s my first attempt.”

  “Well, you looked like a pro cooking it. I’m impressed.”

  “Thank you.”

  “How’s your noggin? You nailed that countertop pretty hard. It sounded like a dropped melon.”

  “It’s a good thing I hit my head—I could’ve been seriously hurt. Truth be told, my calf is bothering me more. I lost more skin,” he pointed at his face, “and I don’t have all that much to spare.”

  LG smiled and he liked the way it looked. Despite being on crutches, she somehow seemed more at peace.

  No one said anything as they ate, but LG eventually broke the silence.

  “I guess I’m not surprised Ursula won’t talk,” she said. “Probably figures she’s got nothing to lose. She and Tomas were pretty close.”

  “I know we’ve asked you a bunch of times, but let’s talk through it again.”

  “I’m as baffled as ever. Coming after me like Cornejo did makes no sense unless he did it for purely personal reasons.”

  “Which is a distinct possibility,” Harv added. “You’re familiar with Occam’s razor?”

  “Yeah, all things being equal, the simplest answer tends to be the correct one. If all he wanted was to shut me up, he could’ve killed me with a ton less fuss, don’t you think?”

  Nathan nodded. “I know you’re burned out on it, and it’s a difficult thing to relive, but let’s give it another try.”

  She shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable, and gave Nathan a curt nod.

  “The security alarm woke you and you spotted the intruders in your yard. They used bangers to stun you, then attacked.”

  “I told Glen to get in the closet and I fought off the gunmen until I got tased.”

  “Once they had you, they handcuffed you and injected the Ketamine. You told us you remembered the guy called you Little Peach.”

  She closed her eyes for a few seconds—obviously a bad memory. “That’s useless now. We know it was Tomas and Ursula.”

  “Why Little Peach?”

  “I had a dog named Peach at the time, a toy poodle. I called her Little Peach. She was apricot color, but I didn’t think Apricot was a good name.”

  “So you told Tomas about your dog?”

  “Yes. He thought it was a good nickname for me. I didn’t like it, but I needed to stay in his good graces. I don’t see where this is going.”

  “I’m not sure either, but let’s stay in Caracas. After we rescued Glen, did he ever tell you why the twins beat on him?” Nathan needed to steer the conversation gently.

  “No. I didn’t see him at all after he got back.”

  “And you never knew him prior to the mission?”

  “No.”

  “How did you two get together after that? It’s not like he could look you up in the phone book.”

  She looked hesitant, as if she didn’t want to answer. “I asked Cantrell for his contact info.”

  “Because you were interested in him?”

  She sighed. “Yes. Where’s this going?” Her tone held some edge.

  Nathan looked at Harv. “We’ve been operating on an assumption that Cornejo was after you. What if you weren’t his endgame?”

  “Then who? You guys?”

  “Glen.”

  “That’s crazy. He didn’t know anything about Cornejo.”

  “Cantrell told us there have been a bunch of other murders and kidnappings related to Cornejo’s bid for the presidency.”

  “I still can’t believe he’d be after Glen.”

  “Did Glen ever tell you why he was in Caracas in the first place?”

  “He went there for vacations. He liked it there a lot.”

  “It’s a beautiful city,” said Harv.

  Good job, Harv, he thought. It was the perfect comment for the moment. It removed some of the tension.

  “How many times did he take vacations down there before we rescued him?”

  “A bunch. I don’t know the exact number, he never told me.” She sounded a little resentful.

  Nathan held up a hand. “And he spoke Spanish?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was there ever a ransom request from the twins?”

  She shook her head.

  “Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

  “Not really, Cornejo had all the money he needed.”

  “Right, so why kidnap Glen?”

  Linda didn’t say anything, her mind clearly working.

  “Did you guys ever talk about it?”

  “I tried a few times, but he wanted to put it behind him and move on. I didn’t push.”

  “For the moment, let’s assume Glen was the target, not you. Would you agree if they wanted him dead, they could’ve easily done it?”

  “They did kill him.”

  “But you said he attacked the gunman who’d captured you. Maybe killing him wasn’t their plan.”

  She just stared.

  “What if they wanted to render Glen, not you? Getting their hands on you was just gravy, so to speak.”

  “No, that can’t be right. He didn’t know anything.”

  “I know this is painful, LG, I’m sorry.”

  She put her fork down with some force. “You’re the ones who brought up Occam’s razor. Aren’t we getting a little presumptuous here?”

  He needed to slow things down. “Let’s go back to the chain of events. You were
both in your bedroom when the alarm went off. What did Glen say?”

  “What did he say? I don’t know. He asked who I was texting.”

  “What else?”

  “He mentioned our dogs . . .”

  “What about them?” He remembered the dogs being one of the first things Linda mentioned when he found her in the kitchen.

  “He didn’t like leaving them in the bedroom, but I didn’t want them following us, so I locked them in the closet.”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “No, I told him to be quiet. When the bangers went off, I told him to hide in the linen closet because I didn’t want him slowing me down.”

  “After the fight in the kitchen, did he say anything more?”

  “Why are you guys making me relive this? He’s dead!”

  Harv stepped in. “Easy, LG. We’re not ganging up on you.”

  “I just hate thinking about it.”

  Neither of them said anything, giving her some time.

  “He told me he was sorry.”

  “Sorry? You mean about the attack?” asked Nathan.

  She closed her eyes.

  “I’m sure he didn’t blame you for it.”

  Across the table, his friend held up a hand. He nodded and didn’t say anything. He knew Harv wanted LG to work through the events without any coaching. Anything else might taint her recollection.

  She pressed her eyes tighter. “He was worried about our dogs again. He told me to get them out. Then he said he loved me. I told him not to talk and that I’d call an ambulance . . . I hated lying to him. I felt so helpless. The Ketamine had begun to work on me. If he said anything more after that, I can’t remember it. I don’t even remember anything I said with you.”

  “You asked if your dogs were okay. I heard them barking and you told me they were in your bedroom closet.”

  “I can’t remember any of that. It’s like it never happened.”

  “You told me their collars were in a kitchen drawer, their leashes too. I passed that on to Cantrell. It’s how her team handed the dogs off to Harv before you woke up.”

  “It’s scary not remembering stuff like that.”

  “To take your dogs out, you have to put their collars on, right?”