Sixty-One

“Get Alex, take him upstairs,” Michael said, pulling Ben away from the window in order to look for himself. Two men were standing on the front porch. Their dark suits and even darker shades made them look like Secret Service, but he knew what they were: Pips sent by Livingston Shaw to collect him.

He threw a look over his shoulder to see Ben speaking quietly to the boy while he closed up the laptop. Alex looked at him, his usual blank expression laced with fear. Michael nodded and tried to give him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. As soon as Ben and the boy disappeared up the stairs, Michael opened the door.

“Let me guess—out spreading the good news?” he said, leaning himself against the doorframe.

The man on the left slapped a meaty paw against the door and gave it a push. “News is never good when you’re involved,” he said in a conversational tone. He looked like a white version of Lark—hulking frame and clean-shaven head, hands the size of baseball gloves.

Michael stopped the door’s progress with his boot. “And don’t you forget it,” he said, somehow managing to match the Pip’s easy tone. “You can also forget about stepping so much as one polished wingtip over the threshold of this house.”

The Hulk smiled and took a half-step forward.

“It’s time to go,” the Hulk’s partner said to Michael, wrapping a restraining hand around the other man’s bicep. “Mr. Shaw is waiting.”

“Hold up.” Ben came down the stairs, his jacket and case in hand. Both Pips took a step back and folded their hands in front of them, eyes averted. They always reacted like that when they saw Ben—almost like they were scared of him. Ben threw them a wink that sent them shuffling while he handed Michael his stuff. “Have a good day at the office, dear,” he said, tapping a finger against Michael’s jacket before throwing it over his shoulder. Whatever it was that he’d managed to slip into it was something he didn’t want his dad to know about.

Michael gave a discreet nod, indicating that he understood before turning toward the pair of thugs on the porch. “Let’s go, boys, I ain’t got all day,” he said, muscling his way between them to make his way down the stairs.

He set his case on the sidewalk in front of the sleek black limo and pulled his jacket on while waiting at the curb. The Hulk popped the trunk and tossed his bags inside while the other Pip frisked him, pulling his Kimber and his knife from their holsters before handing them to the Hulk to be put in the trunk. He also pulled out Michael’s cell phone and dropped it on the sidewalk, where it shattered. “Oops,” he said while grinding it beneath his heel. “What’s this?” he said, pulling a small sliver case from his inside jacket pocket.

“Breath mints,” he said, his tone bland, expression bored. “Help yourself. Please.”

The suit gave the box a shake, listening carefully to the rattle inside before stuffing it back inside his pocket. “Fuck you,” he growled, giving him a shoulder check and leaving him curbside to circle around the front of the limo to climb into the driver’s seat while the Hulk opened the back door for him. As promised, Livingston Shaw was waiting inside.

Michael slid across black leather, settling back against the seat. He remembered the last time he and Shaw had taken a ride together; it had ended with him being told that he’d been carting a dirty bomb around in his back. He wondered what Shaw had in store for him this time.

The Hulk closed the door and climbed into the front passenger seat. Looking out the window Michael could see Ben standing on the porch, doing his best to conceal the worry on his face.

“How is it that you always manage to find your way back here, Michael?” Shaw said in a bewildered tone that said he didn’t understand the attraction.

He thought of Sabrina. “It’s my home.”

“Yes, well … your perpetual return has become tiresome,” Shaw said, following his gaze out the window. As soon as Ben caught his father’s attention, he flipped him the bird. Shaw sighed and settled back into his seat. “Almost as tiresome as my son’s incessant lack of respect or discipline.”

Michael turned his face away from the window as the limo began moving and met Shaw’s glare head-on. “On his worst day, your son is ten times the man you’ll ever be,” he said quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile at the look that passed over his boss’s face. “Save your threats, Shaw. We both know you can’t kill me.”

“And why is that, Michael?” Shaw said, disinterested, while he watched the scenery whip past the window. “Considering that you lied to me this morning about Leo Maddox’s death, I’m hard-pressed to find a reason not to kill you at this point.”

Shaw had spoken to Reyes and gained proof of life, then, so he must know that Michael’s earlier call had been a ploy. The fact that Shaw came for him anyway spoke volumes.

“I am the fattened calf, aren’t I? If you kill me, you’ll lose the only thing keeping Reyes in check.” He shook his head, disgusted. “Are you really that stupid? Did you really think you were going to be able to control him?”

For a split second, he was sure Shaw would deny everything. Instead, he flicked a finger over the switch that raised the privacy partition between the front seat and the back. As soon as it was fully raised, he spoke. “I’ll admit that my partnership with Reyes has proved to be problematic, but I have every confidence that things will right themselves.”

“And how will things right themselves, Shaw?” Michael said, his tone low and even. “You want me to kill him for you? Rescue the Maddox boy? That is why I’m here, isn’t it? To clean up your mess?”

“You’re here to do exactly as I say, Michael.” The limo slowed as it turned into the parking lot at Moffett Field, stopping only long enough for the Pip behind the wheel to flash their credentials before being let through the security gate.

They rounded the hangar. Next to Ben’s older Lear was a jet. Both looked ready for takeoff. Next to the Lear, a Range Rover sat on the tarmac. Shaw reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone to dial a number. “You may board the plane now,” he said before ending the call.

Michael watched as the driver’s side door to the Rover popped open and a Pip climbed out to open the rear passenger door. A familiar brunette in jeans and T-shirt stepped out and turned, motioning for someone else to follow her.

It was Mary, the nurse who always conducted his exams after coming off assignment. “What’s she doing here?” Michael said, confused.

“Regardless of your momentary indispensability, you’ll do well to remember that there are others—less important others—relying on you to complete your mission.” Shaw tapped a manicured finger against the glass. “Pay attention, please.”

In the moment before she appeared, Michael had the insane thought that if he closed his eyes, he could actually stop it from happening. He could keep her safe, as long as he didn’t see her. “You rotten bastard,” he said, leaning his forehead against the glass, completely defeated as he watched Sabrina climb out of the Rover.

Mary said something to her and she turned toward the limo where he sat, actually took a step in his direction before the Pip who’d opened her door grabbed her by the arm. He watched as she whipped her arm around in his grasp, reversing the hold he had on her so fast the Pip didn’t know what hit him until she popped him in the mouth with a rabbit punch.

Michael took a deep breath. Schooled his face into an emotionless mask. “Okay, I get it. You can let her go now.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Shaw said. “Ms. Tserkov’ has very specific instructions, and Ms. Vaughn, well … she has her part to play in all this, just as you do.”

Tserkov’. The Russian word for church. He looked out the window at the woman who’d been pretending to be nothing more than his nurse for nearly three years. “What is she—really?”

“I think you know what she is, Michael, but I’ll indulge your curiosity a bit. Her parents were Russian counterintelligence, embedded in the US in the early eighties.” While Shaw spoke, he watched the woman he knew as Mary step between Sabrina and the Pip. She continued to speak, jerking her chin in his direction. “When the Cold War ended, they were abandoned here by their government, eventually rooted out and killed by the CIA. Korkiva—or Courtney, as she likes to be called—is more than a bit disgruntled over the desertion.”

He could literally see the fight drain out of Sabrina and she nodded, casting another look at the limo over her shoulder. Even though he knew she couldn’t see him behind the tinted glass, she seemed to look right at him, her mouth moving soundlessly.

It’s okay.

She turned and allowed herself to be led toward Ben’s plane, mounting the steps before disappearing inside. He didn’t need to ask where Shaw was taking her.

“He’ll kill her,” he said as he watched the Lear’s hatch close and its stairs fold up. “He’s been planning this from the moment he learned about her.”

As soon as the plane started to taxi down the runway, Shaw popped the locks on the limo door. “You’re correct. Reyes will kill her … but not right away. You have time, though not much. Ms. Vaughn’s fate very much depends on the choices you make within the next twenty-four hours.”

“You’re not calling the shots anymore, are you, Shaw?” Michael said, remembering his conversation with Reyes the night before. How he’d thanked him for killing Cordova, like he’d done it for him and him alone. “Sucks to be someone’s bitch, doesn’t it?”

Shaw smoothed a palm down the crease of his five-thousand-
dollar hand-tailored pants, his expression telling Michael he was fighting for control. “I have every intention of sending you after her and the Maddox boy; but before that, there’s something I need you to do.”

“You need me to do?” he said, even though he knew exactly what Shaw was talking about. “Cut the shit and just tell me what Reyes wants.”

Shaw stepped a foot onto the tarmac as soon as the Pip opened the car door. “It’s very simple, Michael: you need to finish the job you started,” he said, still unwilling to admit that he’d lost control of the situation he now found himself in. “If you want to save your Sabrina, you’re going to have to kill Pia Cordova.”