Blood Trust (44 page)

He looked up at her and snapped his teeth together. In utter shock, she watched him lurch to his feet and come after her. She wanted to run, she wanted to defend herself, but her service revolver was at her feet.

And then he was upon her, and her nostrils dilated with the stench of death. His fists beat her down to the muck, until she was lying with Naomi Wilde and the unknown victim. And in that moment, she understood the nature of her visitation. The water turned to blood—her blood, her death. Nothing to be done, then. The future was already written. Today she would die.

McKinsey was on top of her, pounding her, and then he had her service revolver. He pointed it at her, grinning now, victory in sight. And then the world turned inside out, colors coalesced and collided. She no longer felt pain. There was no sound save the rushing of blood in her ears.
Someone else’s blood.

And at that precise instant, she saw the specter of Naomi Wilde rising up behind McKinsey like a twist of smoke, drawing her gaze to the ruined side of his head. No time to weigh a decision, or even for thought.

Lashing out with her left hand, she struck squarely on the gunshot wound. McKinsey howled in pain, rearing up, hands to his head. She struck him a two-handed blow that knocked him sideways. His cheek struck Naomi’s face and he howled again.

Struggling out from under him, she smashed her fist into his right eye. The blow drove the left side of his head into the ground and his eyes rolled up in their sockets. She grabbed her service revolver out of his hand and aimed it at him as she staggered to her feet.

“Get up,” she ordered. “Get up now!”

Instead, he lunged at her. She pulled the trigger.

*   *   *

I
MMEDIATELY FOLLOWING
his speech to the NAACP at the Kennedy Center, President Crawford headed for the men’s room. This had already been vetted by a member of his Secret Service detail, and was staked out, ensuring no one could enter while the POTUS was doing whatever it was he needed to do in there.

Everyone, that is, except Henry Holt Carson. The president was not happy when Carson strode into the men’s room.

Crawford gave him a jaundiced look. “A Secret Service agent. Hank, for the love of God!”

“Calm down, sir.”

The president stared at him in the mirror that ran along the wall above the sinks. “I will not fucking calm down. Where in all our planning did we ever contemplate murdering a Secret Service agent?”

It was a rhetorical question. Carson was quite certain it required no answer, so he kept his mouth shut.

“And Naomi Wilde, of all people. Damn it, Hank, she was one of our best and brightest. I read the reports of how she handled the crisis in Moscow, how she took charge of your sister-in-law. I’ve spoken with her several times—I
knew
her.”

Time for rebuttal,
Carson thought. “You and I both know it never would have come up, let alone been on the table. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Wilde had gotten too close. If McKinsey hadn’t acted, she would have blown us out of the water—”

“Murder of a federal agent. That’s a capital offense.”

“—and then where would we be?”

Crawford ran his hand distractedly through his hair. He seemed incapable of looking directly at Carson, but continued to engage his image in the mirror.

“This has gotten out of hand, Hank.”

“As far as anyone is concerned, Naomi Wilde is missing. We’ve neutralized her boss, there is no body. Calm down. We’re almost there.”

“The hell we are!” The president stopped, suddenly aware that he had raised his voice. “This has got to stop, right here, right now.”

“You know that’s impossible. We’ve come too far; we’ve crossed the line of no return.”

“I’m telling you, Hank—”

“Cheer up, Arlen, the Middle Bay audit is almost complete. When it is, we’ll have what we want.”

For the moment, the president’s eyes had turned inward, and when he spoke it was as if he was addressing himself. “There’s a line you promise yourself you’ll never cross, because once you do, all is lost.”

For the first time, Carson spoke sharply. “It pains me to have to remind you that we’re both implicated in the Middle Bay merger. If we don’t complete what we started—if we
fail
—well, it will be a pretty bleak future for both of us.”

Crawford’s eyes refocused. Leaning forward, he put his hands on either side of the sink. The skin on his face was pale and slack. Suddenly he looked ten years older. “God in heaven, what this job takes out of you.”

“There are a lot of people who wonder why anyone would want the burden.”

“Well, right now, Hank, I’m beginning to think they’re right.” The president sighed. “Okay, so what do we do now?”

“Clean up the mess McKinsey made.”

“Don’t speak that name to me ever again!”

Carson nodded. “As you wish, of course.”

“When you lie down with fuckers, you’re sure to get fucked,” Crawford said bleakly.

Carson offered a thin smile. “Leave it to me.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You don’t want to know, sir.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Carson crossed behind the POTUS to the line of urinals, unzipped, and began to pee. “I’m going to cauterize the wound.”

Crawford opened his mouth, possibly to ask what that specifically meant, then changed his mind. Instead, he turned on the taps, pumped foaming soap from the dispenser, and commenced to wash his hands.

Carson watched him.
Like Lady Macbeth,
he thought.
But the stink of guilt will never wash off, trust me on that.
Finished, he zipped up and joined the POTUS at the sinks, washing and drying his hands.

“She’s going to be buried with full military honors.”

Carson coughed. “May I remind you, sir. There is no body.”

“And you better make sure there won’t be one.” The POTUS shook his head. “Damnit to hell, Hank, what’s gone right today?”

Patting the POTUS on the back, Carson said, “Buck up, Arlen, you just delivered one helluva speech that’ll put the African-American vote in the bag.”

T
WENTY
-
SEVEN

“I
S HE
dead?”

“As a doorpost.”

Heroe closed her eyes. “Shit, shit,
shit
!”

“He got a name?”

“Agent Peter McKinsey, United States Secret Service.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Heroe looked up at him. The pain in her head was distracting her from what she needed to do. “Do I fucking look like I’m kidding?”

“Okay, okay. But forget about him, Chief, and just lie back,” the officer said. “I’ve called for an EMS evac chopper. I don’t want to chance taking you back to the mainland in the boat.”

“Officer, I’m on a grave with two bodies. One of them is McKinsey’s partner. I’m not lying back.”

“My God,” the officer said, “what the hell is this place?”

*   *   *

T
HE MOMENT
the 737 hit the tarmac and taxied to a stop, Edon Kraja come up to Jack and said, “I want to get off here with you. I need to find my sister. I’m afraid something terrible has happened to her.”

“I’m sorry, that’s not possible,” Jack said as gently as he could.

Edon’s eyes welled up with tears. “You don’t understand. The chances are my father is going to sell her to Arian Xhafa.” The girl looked desperate. “Liridona is not like Arjeta and me, she’s the youngest, she doesn’t have the toughness. She’s vulnerable. She’ll crack wide open.”

“Come with me,” Jack said. He led her to the front of the plane, where they could be alone, and sat her down facing him. “Edon, I have something difficult to tell you.”

Right away she started to tremble.

“Arjeta has been found. She’s dead.”

“Oh, my God, oh, my God…” She was shaking, and her head started to whip back and forth, as if she could somehow negate what had happened.

Jack took her by the shoulders. “Look at me. Edon, look right here, into my eyes.”

Slowly, the girl did as he asked.

“It’s all right,” he said softly. “It’s going to be all right.”

“How?” she wailed. “How can it possibly be all right?”

The commotion brought Alli at the run. Jack looked up at her. “I told her.”

Alli sat down next to Edon and put her arms around her. At once, Edon buried her face in the crook of Alli’s shoulder. She was sobbing inconsolably. Alli stared at Jack.

“Don’t do this,” she whispered. “You have to let me go.”

“Alli, I have you to think about.”

“And I have Liridona.” She stroked Edon’s head. “Okay, I have a solution. Let’s let Annika decide.”

“What?” Jack was truly alarmed. “No.”

“Why not?

“Because it’s nuts to trust her judgment.”

“You’ve done it before,” Alli rightly pointed out. “Besides, when has she ever, ever tried to hurt us?”

He said nothing.

“You know she’d never let anything happen to either of us.”

In peace as in war sacrifices must be made, soldiers must fall in order for battles to be won.
“In fact, I don’t know that.”

She cocked her head. “I don’t believe you.”

“That’s unfair. I’ve never lied to you.”

“Let’s not talk about unfair, okay? I’ll have Thatë to protect me.” She looked at him steadily, and all of a sudden she seemed terribly grown-up. “Jack, you can’t protect me every second of my life.”

“I know that, but I can still make decisions—”

“From now on I’ll make my own decisions.”

*   *   *

H
EROE RESISTED
going to the ER, but she’d had no choice. They strapped her to a gurney and choppered her to Walter Reed, but not before she called the ME and gave him orders to get out to Roosevelt Island stat.

At some point, she must have passed out, because the next thing she knew she was in a hospital bed and Alan Fraine was sitting in a chair beside her. He smiled when he saw she was awake.

“You took quite a beating.”

“I gave as good as I got.”

“Better, I’d say. Much better. You’ll be ready to roll in a couple of hours. Just a few more tests—”

“Fuck the tests, I don’t need tests. How long have I been out?”

“A couple of hours, more or less.”

“Jesus. Any word yet on the cause of Naomi Wilde’s death?”

His smile quickly faded. “On that score, I’m afraid I have some bad news. The bodies of Wilde, McKinsey, and the unknown vic have been taken from us.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Fraine sighed. “Nona, I think you know.”

“The Feds.”

He nodded. “A whole platoon of them appeared at the island and commandeered the crime scene. Our people were summarily dismissed.”

“So we have nothing?”

“Less than nothing.” Fraine couldn’t meet her fiery gaze. “I’ve been given orders to forget the incident ever happened.”

“Forget? How can I forget—?”

“Nona, I’m very sorry.” Fraine shook his head. “As of now, you’re on leave.”

“What? You mean I’m relieved of duty?”

“I mean you haven’t taken a vacation in, what?”

“How about never.”

“Okay, then.” He brightened. “No time like the present.”

“This is total bullshit,” she said.

“This is my decision, and it stands.”

She sat up straighter. “How could you?”

“Nona, I want you out of harm’s way. Now. Before something really bad happens.” His eyes met hers at last. “I chose column A. Was I wrong?”

She was so angry sparks should have been shooting out of her eyes. “Alan, this blows.”

“I hear you.”

“Scylla and Charybdis.”

He cocked his head. “This is what comes of being so well read in a dumbed-down world.”

“Trapped between two monsters. There is no good choice.”

He shrugged. “Life works that way sometimes.”

“Tell that to Naomi Wilde.” Her voice had turned savage. “Who’s going to be her advocate? Who’s going to speak up for what was done to her now that it’s going to be swept under the carpet?”

Fraine leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Nona, listen to me. I understand what you’re feeling—”

“How can you?” She looked away for a moment. “Sorry. It’s unfair to snap at you.”

“Nothing about this situation is fair.” He lowered his voice. “There are some very big fish involved in this mess. The best thing for you now is to disappear, at least until it blows over.”