CHAPTER TWELVE

New York was unseasonably cold for the last week of September and a few of the trees in Central Park were showing color. Alicia Walker loved autumn but detested winter. The advent of fall stirred up a conundrum of mixed emotions and left her emotionally confused, sometimes almost exhausted. The slight chill in the air was invigorating, but her mind often skittered ahead to scenes of snow blanketing the trees and pathways that ran through the park’s rolling hills. It was a vexing time of year.

Alicia unhooked the shoulder strap and let her briefcase drop on the park bench. She unzipped the side compartment and pulled out a blue file folder. Inside were eight pages of typed text, single spaced in twelve-point font. Her new assignment. She skimmed over the first two pages, mostly background material she was already familiar with, then concentrated on the material that was new to her.

The assignment was a bit of a step outside the box for the Bureau. It was a joint effort with the Department of Homeland Security, which had insisted on retaining control of the operation. Alicia was surprised her superiors had agreed to lend her out on the conditions DHS was imposing. But given the scope of the sting, she could see their willingness to cooperate. Ahmed al-Jawahari was an American citizen of Iranian descent with questionable ties to al-Qaeda. DHS suspected him of being a major fundraiser for a handful of terrorist cells operating inside the United States. But al-Jawahari was also a well-respected citizen and prominent New York lawyer. Bashing down his front door and riffling through his files was not the way to bring him down. They needed someone on the inside. And that’s where Alicia Walker figured in.

Al-Jawahari had one extra large skeleton in his closet. He was into bondage and sado-masochism. No sex, just the kinky stuff that involved leather outfits, whips and handcuffs. He often invited the women who indulged his fantasies back to his office for a quick session on the couch. Alicia Walker was being planted in the agency’s inventory—her specialty being bondage without sex. It was inevitable she would end up in al-Jawahari’s office. Which meant she needed to have a completely new background. A life totally different from her own. That information, and a condensed version of her target’s life, were inside the blue file folder.

She spent an hour reviewing the details, then closed the file and slipped it back in her briefcase. The sun was just setting, another Monday drawing to a close. She exited the park at East Fifty-ninth and flagged a cab. She was hungry and had the cabbie drop her at The Red Cat, a trendy restaurant surrounded by art galleries that was only a few blocks from her townhouse. She ordered the roast chicken and flipped through a well-used copy of the Times. The meal was excellent, and she left the restaurant feeling full and a bit sleepy. A hot bath was foremost on her mind when she slipped the key in her lock and opened her front door. Her townhouse was peaceful and quiet after the constant noise and congestion of the city streets. She headed to the bathroom and turned on the water. Steam rose from the tub as it filled. She closed the door to keep the warmth in and undressed.

She pulled her hair into a ponytail and secured it with a scrunchy, then lowered herself into the water. Her gun was on the floor next to the tub, and she reached over and slid it out of its holster, then set it in the wall cavity next to the tub. She closed her eyes and slid her bottom down the tub, bending her knees and letting the water cover her shoulders. The warmth felt good after the September chill. A slight noise from just outside the bathroom startled her, and her eyes flicked open. She pushed her feet against the end of the tub, her shoulders and chest rising quickly above the water. A second later the door crashed open. Tony Stevens was framed in the doorway. In his right hand was a Colt revolver. The hammer was cocked, the gun ready to fire. For a second there was complete silence.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Alicia said, her arms and hands resting on the edge of the tub. Her left hand was inches from her gun, hidden behind the shower curtain. She made no attempt to cover herself.

“Don’t move,” Tony said, taking two steps into the room. “Don’t move a fucking muscle.”

“Tony, what the hell are you doing in here? This is my house. My bathroom. You have no right to be here. And what’s with the gun?” Her mind was racing, thinking of some way to distract him. Anything to get her hand on her Glock.

“You bitch. You goddamn bitch. You’re FBI.” The gun was leveled at her chest, his hand shaking slightly from the weight.

She had to make a decision. There were two ways to play this out. One was to deny his accusations, the other to admit she was with the Bureau and play the ’shoot a cop and you’re in a lot of shit’ card. Her decision was quick.

“You don’t want to do this, Tony. The guys I work with at the Bureau won’t stop until they’ve tracked you down. They will not stop. Ever.”

Sweat trickled down his forehead, and he used his free hand to wipe it away before it dripped in his eyes. “You have no idea who I am. You can’t find a ghost.”

“Are you kidding?” she said, sitting up a bit, the water lapping on the edge of the tub as she moved. She saw his finger tighten on the trigger. “Right now you and your buddies are wanted for stealing money from rich people. I’m not saying that what you’ve done is okay, but the resources the Bureau is going to put on that is absolutely nothing compared to what will happen if you pull that trigger. You can’t kill an FBI agent and expect to get away with it. There’s not a chance in hell, Tony.”

“I don’t have a choice,” he said, his hand shaking more now. He sounded unsure.

“Edward Brand?” she asked. He didn’t answer, but his eyes told her what she needed to know. “We can protect you, Tony. You work with us and we’ll put Brand away for life. He’ll never be able to touch you.”

“I’m going to jail no matter what,” Stevens said. “You can’t stop that. Even if I rat him out I’m still going to prison.”

He was right, and she knew it. “We have resources you can’t even imagine,” she said, shifting again in the water. He didn’t react to her movement this time. Next time her hand was going for her gun.

“Do you have the ability to kill him?” Tony asked. “Because that’s the only way you’re going to keep Edward Brand from finding me and killing me.”

“We can get you into the Witness Protection Program, Tony. We can drop you so deep in some remote corner of the country that he’ll never find you. Never. And you get to live out your life in some quaint little town while he rots in jail. We’ve got that kind of power, Tony.”

He shook his head slightly, a glazed look in his eyes. “No, it won’t work. He’ll get me. I know this man. He’s absolutely ruthless. You don’t know him, Alicia.” His eyes locked with hers. “Jesus Christ, why did you have to get involved?”

She knew the moment. The guy with the gun who doesn’t want to pull the trigger but knows he has to. She was down to her last few seconds of life. She shifted again, this time her left hand grasping the Glock. She bent her wrist, the barrel of the gun now protruding from the cavity. Decision time. And only milliseconds to make it. She angled the gun upward and pulled the trigger.

Both guns fired at exactly the same moment, deafening roars in the small room. Her bullet tore into his chest, deflecting slightly off one of his ribs but smashing into his heart and tearing the left ventricle apart. He spun back into the wall and dropped in a heap on the floor.

His bullet hit Alicia in the upper neck, ripping through her muscle and severing the carotid artery. Blood spurted from the wound and she dropped her gun and clutched at the gaping hole. She tried to rise from the water but the trauma was too great. She felt her strength ebbing quickly as she bled out. Her hands slowly dropped from her neck into the water. She needed a phone. She needed to call for help. Now.

She could feel the water on her lips and closed her mouth, breathing through her nose. The water rose as her legs bent and she slid further down in the tub. She willed her knees to lock and keep her head above the water, but even the simplest commands weren’t getting through. The water crested her nose and washed into her lungs. Her eyes were still open as they slowly slid beneath the surface of the water. She had one last thought before darkness enveloped her.

What a strange way to die.