Epilogue

 

 

CIS Headquarters, Ottawa, Canada

September 1, 6:30 a.m.

 

It had been ten days since Anna’s funeral. She had been given a hero’s farewell and was laid to rest in peace at the Beechwood Cemetery in Ottawa, which was the National Cemetery of Canada and the final resting place for Canadian heroes.

Justin had taken a few days off to clear his mind and to take care of Anna’s estate, since she had made him the executor. He had helped Anna’s parents clear out her townhouse and put it up for sale. They were too elderly to take care of Park, Anna’s and Justin’s white Poongsan dog, which he had brought back from his mission in North Korea. Justin still had to find a good home for him, but found it hard to let Park go. The three of them used to go for long walks through Anna’s quiet neighborhood and along Parkcliffe Parkway, stretching for miles alongside the Ottawa River. Park was the last bond he had to Anna, and he just was not ready to give him up yet.

Today he drove Anna’s blue BMW to the CIS headquarters for his meeting with Carrie and McClain. His boss had advised him to take as much time off as he needed and only report for duty when he could give a hundred percent. Justin had claimed he was ready the day after the funeral, but they both knew it was not a fair assessment. Today, though, he felt clearheaded and able to think straight. His sessions with Faith Thompson, who had been his psychologist over the last few years, had really helped him through his grief. Justin had realized it was not his fault and that Anna would want him strong and full of resolve. She would expect him to be out in the field, so he could find and kill all the bastards responsible for her death and everyone else who instructed, financed, or otherwise supported their activities.

Justin parked far away from the entrance and walked briskly through the gigantic parking lot. The morning air was cool and fresh, a welcome surprise in Ottawa’s usual muggy weather at this time of year. He observed a couple of robins chirping atop one of the parking lot light posts. Justin stopped and listened to them for a few moments. Anna had loved robins. She loved their singing and cherished the time a family of robins built their nest underneath her townhouse deck. Justin gave the robins a last glance, sighed, and hurried his pace.

After going through the metal detector and security, he climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. Carrie was waiting for him outside McClain’s office. She stood up from her chair and fell into his arms for a tight embrace. “How are you doing, Justin?”

“All right, I guess.” He shrugged while still in her arms.

She held him for a long moment, then looked deep into his eyes. Her reassuring look full of hope and faith for the future helped lift his spirit. “I feel better now. Thanks, Carrie.”

She nodded. “Anything you need. Just let me know.”

“I will. Is McClain in his office?”

“Yes.”

“All right. Why don’t we go in then?”

He knocked on the brown wooden door.

“Come in,” McClain’s strong voice boomed from inside.

Justin held the door open for Carrie, then followed behind her.

“Good morning, Carrie. Justin. How are you doing, son?” McClain stood up from behind his large, dark oak desk, the centerpiece of his office, and came around.

Justin extended his hand, but McClain held him in a bear hug, a very unusual gesture for him. “I’m, eh, I’m okay, sir. Thank you.”

“That’s good, that’s very good.” McClain patted Justin’s shoulders and returned to his chair. “Please take a seat.” He pointed at the two black leather chairs across from his desk.

Justin took the seat to the right. His eyes wandered beyond McClain’s shoulders to the stunning views of the Ottawa skyline outside the two floor-to-ceiling windows of the office. His homeland. The country Anna gave her life for. The country he had sworn to protect. Justin shook his head. I’d better get back in the game. With all my heart, body, and mind.

“How is everything around here?” Justin gestured with his head around McClain’s office.

McClain shrugged, then put on his thick black reading glasses. “Crisis after crisis, but we’re managing. Now that you’re back, there’s a certain amount of hope.” He offered Justin and Carrie a small smile.

Justin nodded. “Thank you, sir. I’m ready to hit the ground running.”

“And so you will.” McClain stood up and walked to a couple of grayish cabinets near one of the corners of his office. He unlocked the left one by using his thumb’s fingerprint on the biometric lock, then pulled out a couple of red folders. Before he returned to his seat, he handed Justin one of the folders. “The most recent intelligence reports from our sources, along with the CIA and the SIS, from Yemen and northern Iraq. After the sheikh’s death, the hunt is on for Al-Assam. He’s still rumored to be in western Somalia or eastern Kenya, depending on the source. But, as you’ll see in the reports, there’s no more talk of trying to find the man in that notorious photograph. Everyone seemingly has accepted he’s dead and old news.”

Justin smiled. “I feel as alive as ever.”

McClain returned the smile. “I’m glad about that. We would really miss you.”

Justin could not tell if his boss was trying to be funny or was deeply serious. He shrugged and did not give it too much thought. But he knew for sure that he would feel empty without his job and his assignments, especially now that Anna was gone.

“We’ll keep the police patrols around your dad’s and brother’s houses for another week or so. Then, perhaps, there will no longer be a need. But we’ll reassess at that time. Private security may also be an option.”

Justin nodded. “Sure. My dad never liked bodyguards, but he can afford them. I’ll talk to him about it.”

McClain rubbed his chin and said, “Great. Now, the Saudi reports are in this folder. As expected, they’re sticking to their original story.”

Justin’s eyes involuntarily turned into small slits as soon as he heard the word “Saudi.” His jaw and his fists clenched, but this was not by accident. Justin had not been in the office, but Carrie had kept him informed of the latest developments from the Saudi front.

The House of Saud’s envoy maintained they had shared all their intelligence with the CIS, withholding nothing. Those gaps in intelligence which had allowed Ahmed and Salem and their teams to stay almost always a step ahead of the CIS were simply and only gaps. The House of Saud had not hidden or failed to disclose any documents or information which could have helped the course of events to go in another direction.

Both Justin and Carrie disagreed, especially after discovering the ties between Prince bin Saud and Salem. And from the frown on McClain’s face, he shared the sentiment. He said, “I want you to talk to the Saudi envoy. Be polite, of course, but firm. And also explore the connection with the prince with whom you have a rapport. I want to know everything about the royal’s involvement with these terrorists.”

“Consider it done, sir,” Justin said in a firm voice. He leaned forward and picked up the folder McClain had pushed across his desk, littered as it was with about a dozen or so files and reports.

“Any questions?” McClain said and glanced first at Carrie, then rested his eyes on Justin.

“No questions,” Carrie replied.

“No, nothing,” Justin said.

“All right. That’s your next assignment. I want to know everything there is to know about this Saudi secrecy and their roots in the bedrock of terrorism.” McClain’s voice turned tense and took on a sharper edge.

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Justin said and glanced at Carrie.

She nodded. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Excellent. As always, be safe.”

“Yes, you too, sir,” Justin said and stood up.

“Take care, sir,” Carrie said with a nod.

Outside McClain’s office, she reached for Justin’s arm. “I’ve got to tell you something.” Her voice had turned cold, like her touch.

“What’s wrong?” Justin gazed deep into her eyes.

“It’s about Romanov.” She paused for a moment, looking for the right words as they took a few steps and turned into a quiet corner of the long hall.

“I’ve got some news about him too, but you go first.”

Carrie hesitated for another moment, then said, “You know the intel files about my dad? The ones about the defector my dad was bringing out of the Soviet Union?”

“Yes, the defector that went by the codename Makarov.”

Carrie nodded. “Yes, my dad’s mission when he vanished was to bring out the defector. The intel isn’t clear about his identity, but he was most likely a powerful member of the Communist Party’s Political Bureau. Perhaps even one of the top leaders.”

“And you know who it is?”

Carrie shook her head. “I’m very close to a name. It seems to be someone with close ties to Romanov. I just thought you’d want to know. Now’s your turn.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“What do you intend to do with that intel?”

Carrie shrugged. “Get to the truth. What happened to my dad? Was he betrayed? Why? By whom? I need answers, and whoever double-crossed and . . . and had my dad killed, they’ll have to pay.” Her entire body tensed, while her eyes never left Justin’s face. “Your turn.”

“Eve got in touch with me last night. She knows the name of the person digging into Romanov’s past. It’s Carrie O’Connor.”

Carrie shrugged. “She sure took her time. I could have told you that if you had only asked.”

Justin gave Carrie a sideways glance and cocked his head, but did not say anything.

Carrie said, “Now, what are you going to do with that intel?”

“What intel?”

Carrie did not smile. “He’ll never believe you didn’t find anything.”

“I don’t know that. I’ll try to convince Romanov that this person”—he winked at Carrie—“is not a threat to him. Just someone he can ignore and go about his business as usual.”

Carrie squinted and gave him a thoughtful gaze. “And what if that doesn’t work? What if Romanov decides to come after me? After us?”

“I’ve never backed down from a fight, Carrie, and I’m not about to start now.”

Carrie smiled. “That’s the Justin I know and care about. Now, let’s take care of the House of Saud, and then we’ll deal with Romanov.”