Reunion
I woke up after what seemed like only a few minutes of sleep. Everything was dark, and I felt like I was suffocating. I pulled my nose out of the hole in the mummy bag and put my eye where my nostrils had been.
“Ow,” I said as sunlight hit me squarely in the pupil. It was morning. I had slept through the entire night without waking once. I pulled myself out of my bag and looked around. The water was still running, the static remained on the radio, and my sleeping bag smelled like mosquito repellant. But the sound of the bugs in the walls was gone. In fact, the bugs were gone altogether. I hadn’t been consumed in the night. And I’d gotten perhaps the best night’s rest I’d had in years. And there was something else. During the night, my brain had been able to put together some of the pieces that had been bothering me. I knew a lot more about my situation now than I had when I’d fallen asleep.
I began whistling to myself. I crammed my stinky sleeping bag into the stuff sack, stomped happily on a last errant roach, opened the door to let some air in, and sat on the bed, waiting for Dempsey’s call. The entire situation suddenly made sense—the kidnapping, the government’s connection with Dempsey, even Dempsey’s actions with Becca years ago. I should have seen it before. It had been staring me in the face all along.
I now knew what Dempsey’s game was. And knowing gave me an advantage.
* * *
Dempsey woke up feeling fatigued. Not only had he not slept much, but there was something else. Usually at this point in the game he was wired with excitement. This time he felt different. Mainly, he just felt weary. Maybe he was getting too old for this line of work. Maybe he should follow Carney’s example and think about retirement.
He thought about calling Knight directly to hear the stress in his voice after what Dempsey was sure had been a long and restless night in the motel. Usually he would have enjoyed this, but for some reason, this morning he just didn’t feel like it. Instead, he texted Knight the directions to the airfield and told him to get here as soon as possible.
He spent a long time going through the final pieces of the mission in his mind. After a while, he realized he was hungry and should probably get some food while he could.
He looked through the cooler for something to eat for breakfast and wrinkled his nose in disgust. There were two gallons of milk sitting in cold water that had once been ice. Also in the water were two large, soggy, open boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch—Buck’s favorite cereal. He had put the boxes in the cooler instead of where they belonged. Sometimes Buck had no more sense than a twelve-year-old kid.
Dempsey started to call out and then caught himself. He was never going to have to chastise Buck again—never going to have to deal with his foolishness. For some reason, the thought caused a wave of sadness to wash over him. He threw the soggy cereal in a garbage bag and then hauled the bag, the thoughts of Buck, and his own melancholy emotions out to the trash bin. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by sentimentality. Today was proving day. This was where all the threads came together and where the game would be either won or lost. This was what he lived for.
His cell phone buzzed.
“Mr. Dempsey, sir?” It was the elderly security guard at the front gate.
“Yes, Elwin, what is it? Do we have a guest?” Dempsey looked at his watch. It was about time for Knight to be here.
“I guess you could say that. The man says he is here from the office of the health inspector. Says there’s been a report of rather large rats that need exterminating.”
Dempsey frowned for a moment and then smiled. “Is he driving a red SUV?”
“Yes, he is. How did you know?”
“Send him in. Tell him the king rat is waiting for him.”
“Yes, sir.” Elwin sounded a bit confused.
Dempsey choked down a granola bar and then went to make final preparations.
* * *
The Enola Gay hangar looked exactly like it had on Tim’s smartphone. I tried not to think about the hundreds of thousands of deaths associated with the plane that had once been parked here and the atomic bomb it had dropped. I didn’t want to think about death today. There was only one thing I wanted, and that was to keep my family alive.
Dempsey was waiting for me outside the hangar. It had been years since I’d seen him last, but I would have known his profile anywhere. He’d bulked up some, but other than that, he was the same old Dempsey, standing confidently like he was privy to a secret nobody else had access to. I felt like taking my rented SUV and running him over before he had a chance to speak. That would be something he probably wouldn’t expect. It would almost be worth it to see the surprise on his face.
I pulled in fast and close enough that he had to back up or risk me going over his toes. I opened the door quickly, wanting him to back off even more, wanting him to be at least a little off balance. But he sidestepped like a boxer who knew where the next punch was coming from and smiled knowingly.
“Well, if it isn’t Matthew Knight. It’s been a long time.”
“Not nearly long enough. Where’s my family?”
“They’re safe inside. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“I didn’t come to talk to you, Dempsey. No conversation until I see them.”
“As you wish.” Dempsey motioned me toward a gap in the large sliding doors of the hangar. I stepped in, and he followed me. I didn’t see any of his minions in the immediate area and wondered if I should make my move now, but his catlike gait and hint of a smile told me he was expecting me to try something. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Besides, I wasn’t even sure he was telling me the truth about my family being safe. The closer I got to them, the more I ached to see them.
He led me across a cavernous space to a door on one end of the hangar. I thought I could hear talking inside, and then I recognized Hope’s voice. My heart leaped into my throat, and I felt like a teenager picking up his crush for prom. Dempsey opened the door, and the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen was looking out at me. Granted the face looked extremely ticked off and quite a bit worried, but it was still the most beautiful face I’d ever seen.
Hope rushed into my arms and nearly knocked me over, her hair almost suffocating me. “You’re here,” she said through sobs. “You’re finally here.”
“I am definitely here,” I mumbled through a mouthful of hair.
Hope pulled away from me, and Jin squealed “Daddy” from her stroller and held out her arms. I moved to her without fully letting go of Hope and pulled her up to my chest. She hugged me hard, and I wanted to squeeze her even harder. I nodded to Permelia, who was also in the room and was mouthing something to me. It looked like she was saying, “When are you going to take him out?”
Hope held my face in her hands and examined me. I’d forgotten that Tiny had tried to use me as his punching bag. My bruised cheek and forehead must have been a sight to behold.
“Peng told us you picked a fight with a giant. I thought I told you to be careful.”
“Did he also tell you I won?”
“He told us you got the Scouts involved.”
“I didn’t involve them,” I said. “I just . . . Where is Peng?” I looked around the room and didn’t see him.
Hope let go of my face and stepped back. “He left us, Matt. He was here, he told us everything—he talked more than I’ve ever heard him talk before—but then he broke out and ran away. He promised he wouldn’t leave, but then he disappeared . . . like he always does.”
“He did what?” Dempsey’s voice boomed from behind me.
“He escaped,” Hope said, glaring at Dempsey. “He wanted to take us all with him, but I told him I wasn’t going to watch you murder anyone else.”
I was confused and a little angry. Just when I thought Peng had changed, he was back to his old tricks, sneaking out. Then I caught myself. For the first time, I felt I understood Peng, and I understood why he had done what he’d done. I pulled Hope close to me and said, “I’m sorry.” Then I whispered in her ear so only she could hear. “He didn’t leave us. I’m sure of it. He’s still here somewhere. He’ll try to help.”
I turned to Dempsey before Hope could respond. I needed to turn this conversation in a different direction. I definitely didn’t need Dempsey sending out a search party after Peng.
“You know, Dempsey, last night as I slept with the roaches, I think I finally figured you out. What would the criminal community think if they knew one of their favorite mercenaries was actually working for the CIA?”
Dempsey smiled slightly. “I doubt there’s too many mercenaries out there who haven’t done at least some work for the company. I’m not unique in that regard.”
“I’m not talking about a contract job, and you know it. I’m talking about a full-time, permanent position with health benefits and a pension. Tell me this, was hitting Becca your initiation? A test to see if you would follow orders no matter how despicable they were? You know she really liked you. I think she was about ready to tell Robbie and me that the three musketeers were going to need to disband. And then you hauled off and smacked her like she was an insignificant pawn on one of your chessboards. I’m sure your bosses were very proud.”
A dark cloud moved across Dempsey’s eyes, and his mask of composure faltered for a fraction of a second. I’d tried to get under his skin many times, but this was the first time I’d really succeeded.
“This isn’t helping your family,” he said in a calm, composed voice.
“Neither are you,” I said. “Not one bit. But know this, whatever your game is—government-sponsored or not—I’m holding you responsible. And this time you’re going to lose more than the use of one of your nostrils.”
Dempsey was about to say something else when a bearded man appeared out of nowhere.
“The plane’s about to land, Boss. They’ll be taxiing up in a matter of minutes,” the man said.
“Have you seen any sign of the boy?” Dempsey said. “Apparently he escaped sometime last night. He probably could have made it to the Wendover police station by now.”
The bearded man looked surprised. “I’m sure if he’d contacted the police, we would have heard about it on the scanners. There’s been nothing. The airwaves have been quiet as death.”
The color returned to Dempsey’s face. “Okay. We can’t worry about the boy now. Get into position. Tell Elwin to send a couple of his people to put the ramp in place.”
The bearded man looked hesitant, as if he was ready to say something, and then he nodded and disappeared as quickly as he had come.
“Let’s go outside,” Dempsey said. “There’s someone you need to meet.”
We stepped out through a small slit in the hangar doors, and I handed Jin back to Hope, who put her in the stroller and opened her mouth to say something just as a large jet proceeded to touch down on the runway and taxi to a stop directly in front of us. When Demetrius had said the prince was coming in a private plane, I’d been expecting something a little smaller, maybe a Gulfstream 550. This was a full passenger jet, an Airbus 380, by its markings, and now I understood why Elwin needed to send his men to roll the ramp up to the plane. It was either that or have the passengers slide down the safety chutes.
The two men moved quickly and efficiently to put the ramp in place and then jumped in a Jeep and drove off. I didn’t think they were part of Dempsey’s crew. They didn’t look sinister enough. They were probably Elwin’s nephews. So far, it appeared that Dempsey had only one man with him, which should have been comforting, except I knew Yehudi was on that plane.
The door opened with a hiss as the engines powered down, and the smell of jet fuel drifted through the dry air. There appeared several hard-looking men in robes and keffiyeh head scarves, swinging submachine guns in arcs like they were clearing a room. Dempsey smiled and held up his hand in greeting. The men ignored him as two more people emerged on the ramp before the door hissed shut once again.
These men also wore keffiyeh, but while one of them had robes that looked clean, pressed, and expensive, the other looked like he’d been living in a sheep pen for about a month. I recognized the second one immediately, even though I’d never seen him before. The Yehudi nose was hooked and prominent, and the wild, murderous eyes reminded me of his brothers. He was also carrying a submachine gun and had a long, wicked-looking knife in his belt.
Luckily, Prince Sayami looked like he wanted to do some talking before beginning the mutilations. I was hoping he wanted to talk for a long time, and I really hoped Demetrius and Chico had been able to get into position. Now would be a good time for them to show up and save the day. I looked around the airfield but saw no sign of them. I scanned the surroundings, looking for places of safety if one of the men with submachine guns started shooting.
We stood about fifteen yards in front of the sliding metal doors of the hangar, which were mostly closed, leaving only the small gap we had just walked out of. The doors were made of thick metal, and getting back inside and behind them would be our best protection against a spray of bullets. The only problem was making it to the doors before the bullets made it to us.
Directly to our right was a wheelchair ramp leading up to the doors. The ramp was protected by a short cement wall along the outside edge. This was closer to us than the door and would also offer protection from bullets but only temporarily. The wall ended well before the outside corner of the hangar building, and if we moved behind it, we would be pinned down.
To our left were my rented SUV and a van I assumed belonged to Dempsey. Both vehicles would offer some cover and potentially a means of escape, but right now they were too far away to do us any good. A few hundred yards beyond the vehicles was a tall control tower, its windows reflecting like mirrors on the desert sands.
We had to get back inside the building, but in order to do so, we needed a pretty big distraction. And I was hoping it was going to get here soon.
“Mr. Dempsey,” the prince said, holding out his arms in a magnanimous gesture as he stepped down the ramp to the tarmac. “It is good to finally meet you.”
“You as well, Your Highness.” Dempsey nodded slightly. “As you can see, I’ve brought you what you requested. I trust that you have brought the agreed-upon payment.”
“Of course, Mr. Dempsey. Of course. But you jump to business so soon. I find that Americans have very little patience. In my country, this would be seen as rudeness.”
“I mean no disrespect, Your Highness. It’s been a long and trying week, and I’m feeling a little bit exposed out here.”
“Yes. I understand you lost some men in this venture.”
Dempsey’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear that?”
“Let’s just say I have my sources.”
While the prince talked, Yehudi stood behind him, looking at each member of my family with daggers in his eyes. I thought about winking at him, but I was pretty sure he’d start shooting—prince or no prince. As he looked at each of us, his eye began to twitch, his scowl deepened, and his breaths came harder. He leaned toward the prince and whispered in his ear. I thought it might be, “That man over there. He is very good-looking, no?” But I was probably mistaken.
The prince listened with interest and raised his eyebrows. “It seems you have not fulfilled your part of the bargain after all, Mr. Dempsey. You were instructed to bring me the whole family, and it appears you are short one person.”
“The boy escaped, but we’ve replaced him with a close family friend.” Dempsey nodded toward Permelia, who actually winked at Yehudi.
“I’ll reduce the fee by one quarter. The boy is adopted, after all. I’m sure Mr. Yehudi will find satisfaction enough as he tortures the wife and young daughter. The absence of the boy is inconsequential.”
Yehudi whispered something again to the prince; he seemed to be working himself into a frenzy.
“My friend says you have not fulfilled your contract. He says we should kill you now and keep all the money.”
To Dempsey’s credit, he didn’t flinch. “With all due respect, Your Highness, your friend wants to kill everybody he sees. We had a deal. You paid me to do a job that no other mercenary would take. At great danger to my own life, I returned to American soil, committed a number of federal crimes—including kidnapping an innocent woman and child—and am about to turn over one of America’s greatest antiterrorist agents to a prince of Saudi Arabia. I may be missing one of the minor pieces, but I think I deserve to get paid.”
The prince smiled widely. “Of course you are right.” He motioned to one of his men, who in turn waved to one of the windows on the plane. A door opened near the wing of the plane, and a black duffle bag dropped onto the tarmac. One of the bodyguards ran to the bag and brought it to Dempsey. Dempsey knelt and unzipped the bag. Stacks of crisp bills were bundled inside.
“You could count it,” the prince said. “But I think that would take a very long time.”
Dempsey looked to be satisfied with what he saw. He measured off about a quarter of the bag and began removing stacks of money.
“Oh, no need for that, Mr. Dempsey. You can keep it all. As you say, kidnapping innocents on American soil is very hard work. It is a heinous crime. One that a prince of Saudi Arabia would not want to be associated with. But here I am, paying off a renowned mercenary for such a terrible act. And what is more, the kidnapping will be only the beginning. My friend here, Mr. Yehudi, made a promise to his mother that he would find the man who caused the death of his brothers and bring him and his family back to the Yehudi village to march them through the streets, where they would be tormented and spat upon. And then he would make the man watch as he flayed the skin from his loved ones while they were still yet alive and screaming. These would be great crimes indeed, don’t you agree, Mr. Dempsey? It is a good thing we are out here in the middle of nowhere, away from the knowledge of anyone.”
I noticed a change in Dempsey’s demeanor. He glanced quickly behind him at the flight tower. Something was wrong. I could see it in Dempsey’s eyes.
And then someone moved near one of the outbuildings behind the plane, working their way closer. At first I thought it might be Demetrius or Chico, but the figure was too small, too slight. An adolescent. An Asian. Peng. All it would take was a small turn of the head for one of the terrorist guards to spot him and take him out.
Hope pushed into my side and hissed with urgency, “What is he doing?” She had obviously seen him too.
“I don’t know,” I whispered back. The prince was still talking, and Dempsey still looked disconcerted. No one except Yehudi seemed to be paying any attention to the rest of us, and he was mainly just scowling at us.
“Do something.” Hope’s grip on my hand was forceful. “Stop him.” The message was clear. I was the father. It was up to me to protect my family. Peng was putting himself in harm’s way, and I needed to save him.
I could see where Peng was headed now, inching his way between small bits of cover, working carefully toward the landing gear at the bottom of the plane. I didn’t know what had happened to Demetrius and Chico, but things seemed to be going south quickly with Dempsey and the prince, and I didn’t think it would be long before Yehudi’s murderous expression would manifest into tangible actions.
“Matt,” Hope hissed again, squeezing my hand even tighter.
“We need to trust him,” I whispered back. “He knows what he’s doing.”
“I don’t like that answer,” she said. Her grip did not lessen.
I didn’t like it either, but I didn’t see that there was much we could do.
“They’ll see him.”
“We need to distract them,” I said, looking around for options.
Permelia stepped closer. She had also apparently noticed Peng’s movements. “I got this one, Captain,” she said. I wasn’t sure why she was calling me captain, but there was no one else around who she could be talking to.
“Don’t,” I told her. “It’s too risky.”
She snorted. “At my age, getting out of bed in the morning is risky—and don’t even talk to me about going to the bathroom. There’s a little Indian motorcycle around the corner. I saw it when I busted out the first time. It reminds me of the one Anthony Hopkins drove on the Salt Flats. I’m going to get to the motorcycle and drive the other direction like a bat out of Hades. That should give Peng time to do whatever he’s doing.”
Both Hope and I started to protest, but before any words came out, Permelia was making her break toward the side of the building.
Yehudi, the only one who seemed to be paying any attention to us, began pointing and shouting. “The old one,” he said. “She’s getting away.”
The prince just shrugged. “She was not part of the bargain. Where is she going to go?”
I heard the sound of a small engine trying to catch. After several sputters, the spitting noises turned into a whine, and Permelia appeared, hunched over a small dirt bike heading down the runway in the opposite direction from Peng. The good news was that all eyes turned toward her. The bad news was that this particular Indian dirt bike seemed to have the acceleration of a push lawnmower.
Despite the frantic, mosquito-like buzzing of the engine, Permelia didn’t seem to be getting any farther away. A few of the guards pushed at each other and laughed. The prince was also smiling. I stole a glance in Peng’s direction as he scampered up the large tires of the landing gear and disappeared into the plane’s underbelly. Despite her pitiful progress, Permelia’s distraction had worked.
Yehudi stepped forward, his face flushed with rage, and waved toward the guards. “They are letting her get away.”
“I don’t think she will get very far,” the prince said, chuckling. “By the time she reaches the authorities, we will be crossing the ocean. It would be a waste of ammunition.”
“Then let me do it,” Yehudi demanded. “She is their friend. Let me make them feel pain.”
“Shooting a defenseless old woman,” the prince said with mock gravity. “But that would be cold-blooded murder.”
“My prince.”
The prince frowned at Yehudi and then shrugged. “All right,” he said. “You have my permission.”
Yehudi smiled and pulled the assault rifle up to his shoulder. Hope was squeezing my hand, and I heard her begin to cry.
I looked around for something to use as a weapon. Dempsey wasn’t close enough for me to grab his gun, and Yehudi wasn’t close enough for me to throw anything at him. So I was left to use the only weapon I had—my tongue. “Your brothers used to call you the flea. Did you know that?” Yehudi swung his weapon toward me. “I don’t think it was a term of endearment. They used to say the best thing about coming to America was that they no longer had to put up with the constant nagging from the hag and the constant pestering from the flea. From the pictures, I’m pretty sure the hag they were talking about was your mother.”
“You lie!” he screamed, but I could tell I had scored a point. And I wasn’t lying. His brothers really had said that. Permelia’s buzzing was fainter now, and I hoped she was moving out of firing range, but Yehudi’s rage was building, and I was afraid he was going to start shooting at me instead.
“I promised my mother you would not die until we reach my village,” Yehudi yelled, the spittle flying from his lips. “But I will not listen to any more of your lies. I will have your tongue, and I will have it now.” He lowered his gun to the ground and pulled out his knife.
“Easy, Yehudi,” the prince said, holding him back. “You can cut out his tongue later. But right now it looks like we have other guests.”
I was thinking it was about time that Demetrius and Chico showed up, but when I turned, I didn’t see what I had hoped to see.
It was Demetrius, all right, but he was being herded toward us by the man with the beard. I wasn’t the only one who seemed genuinely surprised. Dempsey also seemed to be caught off guard. The prince, however, looked like he was getting exactly what he’d expected.
“Did Knight bring any more soldiers with him?” the prince asked the man with the beard.
“One other. A big Hispanic. He wasn’t going to come easily, so I had to lay him out. He won’t be conscious for several hours.”
Demetrius looked at me and shrugged. So much for the cavalry.
The bearded man also looked apologetic, but he was focused on Dempsey. “Sorry, Demps. Just following orders.”
Dempsey nodded to the tower behind the bearded man’s shoulder. “So there are no cameras? I thought the prince was being a little too theatrical with his remarks.”
“I was instructed to turn them off.” The man spoke like each word pained him.
Dempsey rubbed his nose and studied the situation around him and then turned back to the bearded man. “Why not just tell me? Why keep me in the dark on this? Did they think I would do anything different than follow orders? Have I ever not done exactly as they said?”
“It’s a new regime, Demps. They don’t know you like I do. Their assessment was that you would work best if you thought you were the one pulling the strings. They call you the Game Master.”
“It was a good plan,” the prince interjected. “Get a potential successor to the Saudi crown on tape implicating himself in kidnapping and murder. Show the tape to the royal family, and eliminate one of the more radical factions. But that plan was no longer feasible once I convinced your government that I was actually one of their better options for succession and that doing me and my friends a favor might be in the best long-term interests of your country.”
“Only one problem with that,” Dempsey said. “Your friends are criminals and terrorists.”
“Yes, they are, Mr. Dempsey. As are many of yours. It is an occupational hazard. Let’s just say there are certain members of your government who feel more comfortable dealing with someone who has influence with the criminal element. Isn’t that why they put you in the position you are in?”
“I don’t know how you talked them into this,” Dempsey said. “They’ve got to be out of their minds.”
“But I’m a good actor, Mr. Dempsey. Admit it, I had you fooled earlier. I took two semesters of drama when I was at Princeton. It was my favorite class. You, of all people, should appreciate this. It’s not who we are that matters, it’s who people think we are. But alas, I’m getting weary of this conversation. I think it’s time for me to retire to my plane and take a nap on my ridiculously expensive bed.”
He nodded to his guards. “Bring the prisoners, but only after I am in my quarters. I don’t want to hear their screams. Let Mr. Yehudi do with them as he wants. I don’t think his mother will argue their condition as long as they are alive.” The prince turned and began walking up the ramp toward the door of his plane.
I looked at Dempsey in desperation.
“Wait,” Dempsey said. “You can’t tell me they agreed to let you take the prisoners.”
The prince turned and smiled. His voice was quieter now, less flamboyant, less like he was playing a part in a movie. “That is exactly what they agreed to, Mr. Dempsey. And that is exactly what is going to happen. They did say that you were to be spared, but only if you stayed out of the way and didn’t cause any trouble. You like to play chess, no? This is what they call checkmate. Your only move at this point is to step back and stay out of the way. You may keep the money if you like. I have more of it than I know what to do with.”
Dempsey looked to the bearded man. “You realize what this means,” he said. “My cover’s been blown. A target’s just been placed on my back. Did they ask you to make it official from the sniper’s nest?”
The bearded man shook his head. “I don’t think they’ve thought that far ahead. But I’d be careful from here on out. Take the money, Demps. Disappear.”
The prince had turned and was on his way up the ramp, and Yehudi’s grin was widening.
“Dempsey,” I growled. “Where’s your plan B?”
But when I looked into his eyes, I saw only defeat.