“Son of a bitch,” breathed Jen-Jen.
“That’s one hell of a find, Jar,” complimented Kalani with a low whistle.
Charlie was astonished by what he’d heard. Holloway was using ex-Blackwater mercenaries as his operators—this was above and beyond anything he could have ever imagined. There were ten men who had remained nameless until now, when this gift of clarity had so conveniently fallen into their laps. A child could have put together that Spencer Holloway had lured Brody Kinney, Brent Masters and their brothers in arms away from the infamous private military contractor. Holloway had the funds to take care of these men—luxuriously—for the rest of their lives, which was much more than Blackwater could have ever offered them.
“What other info do we have on them?” Victoria asked, not missing a beat.
“Says here that these guys were the biggest pieces of shit you could possibly ask for,” began Mason. “They were mostly stationed on security detail for embassies in war-torn nations where political assassinations and other really scary things were a part of everyday life. These fellows are not nice people. Apparently, their unit is nicknamed ‘Chaos Squad.’
“One report says that while protecting a South African diamond mine from militia forces, one of the day laborers was caught trying to smuggle a diamond out in his mouth instead of turning it in. I guess the worker was new and didn’t know that the security checkpoint at the single exit ran cavity searches as well as pat-downs. Anyway, standard procedure—hell, common sense—is to turn a thief over to the local police. Right?
“Well, the Chaos Squad boys don’t like that way of thinking, and they decided to take the law into their own grizzled, apelike hands. Says here these maniacs lined up all of the remaining laborers outside the mine and beat the thief to death in front of them to set an example.”
“Jesus,” breathed Jen-Jen.
“That’s pretty messed up,” Kalani agreed, raising his eyebrows.
Charlie remained silent, but felt a simmering rage coming to a boil within his chest. These animals had taken his wife and daughters. It seemed like Holloway—truly a monster in his own right—had surrounded himself with creatures cut from the same psychotic cloth.
“They weren’t brought up on charges?” Victoria asked. “Even Blackwater has to be held accountable for some things.”
“Well, the foreman tried to do the right thing—called the American embassy and reported them. He was found dead in his office the next morning—gun in his hand and a good part of his head decorating the wall next to him.”
“You think Chaos did him in?” Kalani asked.
“The local constabulary didn’t think so,” offered Mason. “But the Company knows Chaos did it. Turns out we had a guy who happened to be in the area, and he went to check out the scene. He found fibers and friction burns on the foreman’s gun hand, neck and head. Sound familiar?”
“Sounds like Portugal all over again—an amateur version, anyway,” offered Jen-Jen.
“What happened in Portugal?” asked Charlie.
“It’s a long story—and a matter of national security—so I’ve got to be really vague,” Victoria explained, “but one man we were after was trying to kill another man that we were after and make it look like suicide. He’d rigged up a pretty clever contraption: a system of fishing line that held a gun in place next to a victim’s head and, once the loose end of the line was pulled, forced the victim’s finger to pull the trigger. After that, you cut away the string, take it with you and not even Gil Grissom could tell you it wasn’t a suicide.”
Charlie had never heard of anything like it in his life—it was insane. He realized that the Detroit Police Department and the CIA, while both law enforcement agencies, were two very different entities. Charlie dealt with grisly crimes of passion while the Company seemed more accustomed to ingenious, premeditated assassinations.
“Right,” agreed Mason. “But the Chaos guys have more muscle than brains, so they used twine instead of fishing line. You see, the smart killers used fishing line because it glides easily along skin, and leaves no fibers or burns. These dummies used twine and when it slid across the foreman’s skin it left both. The local guys didn’t catch it—probably because they’ve never seen anything like it. Right after that, our guy got in touch with Blackwater and found out that Chaos Squad had vanished from the face of the Earth. How convenient is that?”
“So,” Victoria cut in. “We’re dealing with idiots—tough idiots, but idiots all the same. I know for a fact that everyone at this table is as smart as they come, so we shouldn’t have any trouble. What do we do?” she asked, but it was a challenge to her team rather than a request for help.
“Run the names into the computer, hack into Disney’s cameras and find these assholes using Mason’s facial recognition software. Should give us a pretty good idea of where they are,” Jen-Jen offered.
“Exactly,” Victoria nodded. “And then?”
“Then, we make ‘em dead,” ventured Kalani.
Charlie spoke up, “Wait. We can’t just kill these guys. I’m a cop, for God’s sake. I save lives.”
“Charlie, they gotta go,” added Mason, darkly. “I’m sorry, man. They’re carrying out terrorist activity on American soil. We don’t take that shit from foreigners and we sure as shit ain’t taking it from our own.”
“But we’re in Walt fucking Disney World! How can you kill twelve people here?”
Jen-Jen laughed, “Babe, we can kill twelve people anywhere.”
“That’s enough, guys,” Victoria barked. She stood. “Charlie, come take a walk with me, alright?”
Charlie nodded.
“Get a hold of me as soon as you learn anything,” she said, flashing her phone at them before shoving it into her back pocket.
Confused and a little irritated, Charlie stood and followed the daughter of his enemy out of the restaurant.
They wandered for a while, silently and lazily, dodging screaming kids and exhausted parents while Charlie stared at the ground, his overwhelmed mind making it difficult to focus on anything. Suddenly, Victoria pulled Charlie aside as he nearly collided with an energetic, bearded, tattooed man in a trucker hat and sunglasses. He was speaking animatedly into his phone’s camera but Charlie didn’t register much of what he was saying. He thought he heard the phrase, “Join me...shall you?” before the man hurried off.
Soon, Charlie found himself approaching It’s a Small World. He hadn’t been on the ride in a while. The girls had always tended to like rides with a higher thrill factor. They always mentioned in passing that they’d like to ride it again, but somehow it had been continually, although Charlie had always had a soft spot for the classic attraction.
Victoria placed a hand on his shoulder. “Be right back,” she said with a wink and disappeared into the attraction’s exit.
A couple of minutes later, she reemerged and motioned for him to follow. Right on Victoria’s heels, he made his way along the exit walkway to a Cast Member who was standing next to an empty boat. Victoria stepped past the man and into the second row, sitting down and casually putting her feet on the seatback in front of her. She motioned for Charlie to join her. With a quick glance and a nod at the smiling Cast Member, he took a seat next to Victoria.
“Thanks again, Shane,” she said, smiling at the Cast Member. He nodded courteously as their boat departed.
“He sent out some empty boats ahead of us and he’ll send a couple more behind us, so it’ll be safe to talk once we get a little deeper inside,” she whispered to Charlie.
After the boat had moved away from the Cast Member—and the frustrated stares of the people waiting in line—Charlie ventured to ask how Victoria had gotten them such special treatment.
“A CIA badge can get you far in this world, child,” she replied. Then she teased, “Much further than a police shield.”
“Mine has deer on it,” Charlie offered.
“Mine has an eagle,” Victoria stated, triumphantly.
Charlie smiled the humble smile of the lowly police officer and nodded in defeat. Victoria remained quiet for the next sixty or so seconds until their boat had made its way deep into the cheery bowels of the attraction, finally speaking as they neared the Eiffel Tower section.
“So,” she began, “now might be a good time to let you in on what we really do—before things start getting real and I don’t get the chance.”
“It’s pretty obvious what you do,” Charlie replied, honestly but respectfully.
“That’s what you think,” she said, “but you aren’t seeing the whole picture. We aren’t action heroes, we’re regular people too. We’ve never fired guns while driving cars or jumped out of helicopters—well, Kalani fell out of one once, but it was on the ground with the engine off, so I refuse to count it.”
Charlie laughed at the thought of the big Hawaiian falling out of a chopper door. Victoria smiled too, enjoying the opportunity to bond with her new friend. After a moment though, she became serious—or as serious as she could manage.
She sighed lightly. “We’ve killed people, but it’s never been anyone who didn’t deserve it. And let me tell you a secret: we hate it. It really fucks us up. I’ve killed three people, and I’ve thrown up each time after the shock has worn off. It’s something that nobody likes to do, ever. Kalani’s takes it especially hard—sometimes I won’t hear from him for days after we get home from an op. I guess he deals with it in his own way too. We all do. But we won’t stop—we can’t stop—as horrible as that sounds. We do the things that good people shouldn’t have to do. We do it to protect good people. You’re a good person, Charlie. Meghan? The girls? Good people. You don’t deserve to be in this situation, and you need people like us to help you out of it.”
“I understand. It’s just hard to come to terms with,” Charlie admitted.
“Listen, I know you hate it—”
“That’s not it,” he interrupted. “Not entirely.”
“What is it, then?” she asked, genuinely perplexed.
“I’ve killed too,” he stated, but he couldn’t look at her.
“My brother had it coming. He murdered so many people. He was the worst of the worst, and you did the world a favor—you’re a hero. Look at me, damn it.”
He looked into her eyes and saw a fierce intensity.
“James was a fucking monster. My Dad is a fucking monster. Good people—people who haven’t done anything wrong—have suffered and died because of those two. Who deserves to live, Charlie? People like James and my Dad—or Meghan and your daughters? Does Chaos Squad deserve to keep running around like barbarians, killing whoever they please—or do the innocent families in line for Space Mountain deserve to enjoy their vacation without a goddamn roller coaster train falling on their heads?”
“It’s not my—” Charlie began.
“That’s just it, Charlie,” she continued, not allowing him to finish. “It’s not a decision a good person like you should ever have to make. That’s why there are people like X-ray Team. It’s our job to make these awful decisions and act on them so that the rest of the country can still be pure.”
For once, Charlie didn’t respond. He simply looked into her eyes and saw once more the fire that had always been burning. Her face was a stone mask of fierce conviction. She’d done terrible things to make sure people like her father never got the chance to prey on more innocent people. Charlie felt a deep sadness for this woman just then. She’d spent her entire adult life making up for the horrible deeds of a father she’d never met—making up for acts of terror that she’d never been a part of. She’d taken the burden of guilt upon herself and made it her life’s work to right every wrong that she could. Charlie was convinced that Victoria would do anything in her power to stop her father and rescue Meghan and the girls.
He realized, then, that the world still had a place for true heroes. The men and women of X-ray Team were relentless in their selfless crusade to protect the good people of their country. Charlie had only a small idea of the sacrifices that these people had made to become who they were, and if they’d cast aside their innocence to place themselves between the good and the evil, then he had no right to stand in their way. Regardless, he believed that there must be another option.
“Chaos Squad,” he began. “What would happen if we took them in?”
“You mean arrest them?” she asked. “Well, I suppose it would depend on whose office got ahold of them. If the police took them in, they’d sit in a country club prison for a couple of years while cases were built against them and trials were held. Truth is: they’d probably end up getting out within three to five after some money exchanged hands. Blackwater wouldn’t want these guys’ names tarnishing their image. They’d most likely buy them out and make them disappear. Probably to twelve unmarked graves somewhere in a forgotten country.”
“Shit,” Charlie breathed. “And if the Company got them?”
Victoria hesitated before speaking, but then continued with a sigh.
“There would be no trial. There would be no public mention that these mercs ever existed. The Company has zero tolerance for terrorists who are American citizens. The first couple of weeks would see them spending their time in blackout rooms deep inside Langley. They’d be stripped of their clothing and left to rot in pitch-black rooms. There’s no sense of time or space in there and, after a while, it starts to erode the mind. When the blackout rooms have done their job, the real shit will begin. There’s a guy down there, a Compliance Specialist named Weaver.” She made air quotes with her fingers when she spoke Weaver’s title. “He has a lot of tools, a lot of free time and a lot of fucked up brain cells. He’ll wring those twelve mercs for every drop of information they could possibly have retained in their entire lives. After Weaver’s treatment, they’ll disappear—same as the other scenario. Either way, these guys aren’t going to make it to retirement age. No cashing Social Security checks or playing golf in Boca Raton for them.”
Charlie sat quietly for a moment, thinking. He could tell from Victoria’s tone that she hated the endgame as much as he did, and that she wouldn’t consider taking these men’s lives if it wasn’t the best possible course of action. There was no hope for these men, and so the police officer within Charlie’s mind finally took a step back in favor of the more savage instincts of the primal man within. Regardless of the fates of these men, one constant remained: they had abducted his wife and his daughters, and would not hesitate to harm them if Holloway gave the order. The thought of these animals anywhere near his family caused fresh waves of rage and anxiety to wash over him. Victoria, while ruthless, was absolutely right. If the one true way to save his family was killing these men, then that was what they must do. His family had so much to offer the world, while these savages simply detracted from it. No harm would befall his family if he had the opportunity to prevent it. His decision had finally been made.
“You’re right, Victoria,” Charlie said finally, with a slight air of resignation. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Her intense gaze softened and she smiled her characteristic bright smile. “Good. We could really use that brain of yours on this one, detective.”
•••
They finished the ride in comfortable silence, Charlie finally at peace with the fact that he may be forced to go against his morals. It was easier to deal with the consequences knowing that whatever he may be forced to do was in defense of hundreds of innocent people who’d done nothing to deserve the hell that Spencer Holloway was planning to rain down upon them.
Victoria seemed more at ease, as well. She appeared looser and more relaxed throughout the rest of the ride, leaning back against the seat with her feet crossed at the ankles on the seatback in front of her. Charlie had even spied her lips moving in sync with the song a few times and she’d laughed when she’d noticed him looking.
Upon exiting the ride, Victoria’s cell phone rang.
“It’s McCoy,” she told Charlie, before excusing herself to take the call.
Charlie stood just out of earshot and absently watched the seconds tick away on his watch. In no time, Victoria appeared in front of him, a solemn look darkening her otherwise cheerful features.
“What is it?” Charlie asked as they began making their way back toward Liberty Square.
“Jeremy’s dead.”
“What? Was it because I—”
“No, it wasn’t you,” she held up a hand to reassure him. “Remember when I told you that Jeremy killed someone close to one of my team? Well...she was McCoy’s daughter.”
Charlie nodded but remained silent, urging her to continue. Victoria put her hand on his back and steered him toward the waterfront, out of earshot of any passersby.
“Last year, poor McCoy lost his only daughter—a pretty little girl, only seventeen. Toxicology reports say she was drugged in an attempted date rape. She had an allergic reaction to the drug and didn’t recover from it. A jogger found her body in an alley in Alexandria. Footage from local businesses’ security cameras gave us the lucky break in finding out who did it. Only one car had turned into that alley between the time the jogger found her body and the last time she was seen alive. It was a rental car registered to a Jeremy O’Neill...”
She trailed off, allowing Charlie to process the information on his own. He didn’t know what to feel. That coward had killed McCoy’s only daughter and dumped her in an alley. It was something Charlie saw all too often in his profession, and he’d also seen the effect it had upon the family members of the victim, most often their reactions had been violent. These were civilians; McCoy was a hardened combat operative working for the Central Intelligence Agency.
Charlie had seen fathers swear death upon the killer of their child in front of multiple uniformed police officers. These men were regular people—all they had was hurt and rage and confusion to fuel their vendetta—so most of the time it began and ended with that single painful outburst. McCoy, on the other hand, was a trained killer. He had the skills and resources necessary to track and find the person responsible. Finally, it appeared, he had brought some form of closure to that painful chapter of his life. Charlie didn’t fully disagree with his actions, even though the lawman within him urged him otherwise.
“I’m guessing you didn’t turn that information over to the locals,” Charlie said, thoughtfully.
“Local PD would have needed warrants to access the cameras near the scene, but the Company doesn’t waste their time with that sort of thing—don’t need a warrant if nobody knows you were there. We knew that, without the footage, the locals’ case would have gone cold and stayed that way. I left it up to McCoy whether he wanted to hand it over or not. He chose not to,” she stated.
Something changed within Charlie, then. He put himself in McCoy’s shoes. He thought deeply about what he would do if someone had ever taken the lives of one of his girls. His first notion had been that he would do the right thing, make the arrest, testify at the trial—put the bastard away forever. But now...now he wasn’t quite sure what he would do if faced with that kind of pain. Maybe he would have made the same choice as McCoy. He decided to bury the issue.
“We should go,” he said, still haunted by the changes taking place so rapidly in his mind.
“Let’s head back to the restaurant, see if Mason has anything for us,” Victoria offered.
•••
Not far away, in his villa in the Contemporary Resort’s newest addition, Spencer Holloway sat deathly still. He watched the silent security feed as a beautiful, raven-haired woman leaned in close and spoke intimately with Walker near the water’s edge. The woman had been facing away from the camera, but any doubt Holloway may have had as to her identity evaporated when she turned.
Victoria.