The Temporary Agent (31 page)

Tom said nothing.

“Also, a two-year lease for the retail space below her apartment has been drawn. To our accountant’s dismay, we calculated that ten thousand dollars a month would be a fair price. The two years paid up front, in full. In fact, that amount has already been wire-transferred into her bank account.”

Tom wouldn’t have been able to say anything even if he could think of something to say.

But the older man wasn’t yet done.

“Finally, a phone call was made to the Litchfield County prosecutor. He has assured us that Stella will face no charges for what was a clear case of self-defense.”

Tom closed his eyes, then opened them again and said, “Thank you.”

The older man nodded. “Please come here, Tomas.”

He pronounced Tom’s name correctly.

Tom looked at Raveis and Robert Cahill before stepping toward the man.

They stood facing each other.

“Do you know who I am, Tomas?”

“No.”

The man smiled and nodded. Despite his hard features, there was genuine warmth in his expression.

“Good,” he said. “Let’s keep it that way for now, okay? But you’ll need to call me something, so why don’t you call me what most people call me?”

“What’s that?”

“Colonel.”

Tom nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“There’s another reason why we waited till now to meet with you. Would you like to know what that reason is?”

“Yes.”

“We wanted to be certain that relevant members of New York law enforcement had been informed of your status. And we also wanted to ensure that certain pieces of evidence had been claimed and destroyed or went missing.”

Tom understood what part of that meant.

He would never see again the Colt 1911 that Stella had given him.

The weapon he had used to shoot four men in New York City.

On which was his DNA.

And while Tom had a pretty good idea what was meant by evidence going missing, his real concern was the first half of the Colonel’s statement.

“What do you mean by my status?” Tom said.

“Employment status. Every action taken by you over these past seventy-two hours was done in the service of your country. Your orders, in fact, had come down to you from the highest levels of our government. Of course, those involved in classified operations are afforded certain immunities. Even those involved in domestic ops—ops that aren’t technically legal but are recognized as necessary for national security—are afforded certain . . . courtesies. Quietly, of course. And always behind closed doors. Do you understand what I’m telling you, Tomas?”

Tom said, “That I’m in your debt.”

The Colonel smiled. “I can assure you, son, it is quite the opposite.”

Tom glanced again at Raveis and Robert Cahill.

Facing the Colonel once more, he said, “Then maybe Stella and I can get our personal belongings back.”

The Colonel nodded. “Yes, of course. Right away.” He looked at Raveis.

A look that carried the weight of an order.

Raveis left the room.

“Are Stella and I free to leave?” Tom said.

“I’m curious. Where would you go?”

“Does it matter?”

“You’ve made important friends here, son. But you’ve also made powerful enemies. Kadyrov was not a one-man show. He was in business with others, worse men than he, believe it or not, and they are about to lose a lot of money. There will be significant fallout from that. I’m afraid you and Stella returning to your life in Canaan won’t be possible right now. Let’s call it an abundance of caution. Frankly, you may never be able to go back.”

The Colonel paused, then said, “Sam is correct. You’ve not only saved countless lives, but you’ve spared the world from yet another gruesome and costly war that can’t be won—by either side. But this doesn’t mean our work is done. Not by a long shot. They will keep trying and we will keep doing what it takes to stop them. Cahill is back out there, doing what he can. Fortunately his cover is still intact, so his family remains safe. We were hoping, Tomas, that you would reconsider a career with us. I realize that this is what you turned down five years ago when Carrington first tried to recruit you. But you’re a damn good man, and I’d like you on my team.”

“You didn’t really answer my question,” Tom said. “Are Stella and I free to go?”

“Yes.”

“How soon can we leave?”

“The ferry doesn’t start running again till five-thirty.”

“How far is the landing from here?”

“My driver is at your disposal. He will take you anywhere you want to go.”

“We can find our own way.”

“No doubt.” The Colonel paused. “The landing is about half a mile west of here. At least let my man drive you to the train station on the mainland.”

Tom said nothing.

“I answered your question, Tomas, so how about answering mine? Are you interested in a career with us?”

“No,” Tom said. “But if there is anything I can do for you, I will do it. On one condition, though.”

“Go ahead.”

“The only person I want to contact me is James Carrington. I won’t deal with anyone else. My phone rings and it’s not him, I don’t answer. There’s a knock on my door and it’s someone else, I walk out the back. And I keep on walking. We clear?”

“Very clear,” the Colonel said. “May I ask why?”

“Because he risked his life to save mine. It’s as simple as that.”

“And what if something were to happen to him?”

“You’ll have to make sure nothing does.”

The Colonel thought about that, nodded once, and said, “You look out for the people who mean something to you. We have this in common.”

He reached into his jacket, removed a card, and handed it to Tom.

“We don’t give these out often,” the Colonel said.

Tom expected a business card, something made of paper or card stock, but right away he knew he was holding something different.

This card, slightly thicker than a credit card, was made of copper.

One of the metals Tom had worked with often during the past six months.

Tom’s full name was stamped on the card, identifying him as the bearer of the card, and the name of the attorney general of the United States was stamped below it, along with a phone number.

The card also bore the official seal of the office of the attorney general.

“That phone is monitored twenty-four-seven,” the Colonel said. “Show this card if you find yourself in trouble with the law. Any trouble. If it doesn’t get you immediately cut loose and you end up at the station house, request that the shift supervisor or precinct captain call that number. If you are refused, ask for your one call and dial the number yourself. Of course, this doesn’t mean you shouldn’t avoid trouble, Tomas. But something tells me I don’t need to remind you of that.”

Tom held the card, looking at it.

He was now in possession of a courtesy card from the highest-ranking law enforcement officer in the nation.

The one person who could, with a single phone call, make virtually any problem go away.

And the Colonel seemingly had this person in his pocket.

Raveis returned then, holding a gallon-size Ziploc bag.

He crossed the study and placed the bag on a table near Tom.

Inside were Stella’s smartphone, wallet, and keys and Tom’s driver’s license, carry permit, and cash.

The bag also contained Stella’s .357 Magnum, its cylinder open, the weapon unloaded.

Its six hollow-point rounds were in their own smaller bag.

All that they had in the world, but exactly what they’d need for now.

Tom barely glanced at the items, though.

He didn’t want to take his eyes off the Colonel for too long.

He was standing his ground with a man in possession of unfathomable power and influence.

And one didn’t look away when face-to-face with someone like that.

After a moment, the Colonel stepped closer to Tom and extended his hand.

Tom took it, felt a powerful grip. He easily matched it with his own.

“Rest up,” the Colonel said. “Let those wounds of yours heal. Because when we do need you, we will need you at your very best.”

The Colonel released his hand. “Good luck, son,” the man said. “We’ll be in touch.”

Sixty

They slipped away not long after midnight.

Making their way through the darkness to the rowboat Tom had seen earlier, they quietly climbed in, untied the mooring line, and pushed off.

Despite his broken forearm, Tom took the oars.

The pleasant numbness he’d woken to eighteen hours ago had long since worn off, but he didn’t care.

Only getting Stella far away from there mattered.

Far away from this world of power and violence.

And the men, both good and bad, who occupied it.

Stella’s smartphone had been out of sight—and in Raveis’s possession—for too long, but Tom had no choice except to use it once.

Prior to their leaving, he had called for a cab to meet them at the ferry landing, then left the phone behind in their room.

To anyone tracking the phone, it would appear that Tom and Stella were still in their room.

And he suspected that anyone listening wouldn’t let them get out the door.

But they made it out of the house and down to the dock without interference, which meant no one had eavesdropped.

Tom knew such a courtesy wasn’t likely to last forever.

While rowing the half mile to the landing, Tom wasn’t sure what he and Stella would do if the cab didn’t show.

They had no outerwear, only the clothes Cahill’s mother had given them, and the November night was windy and cold.

They were both already shivering.

But as the landing came finally into view, Stella spotted the cab.

Steering to the shoreline, Tom hopped out and grabbed the bow with his good hand, hauling the boat onto the bank.

He and Stella hurried to the waiting vehicle and got in.

The nearest train station, the cabbie told them, was in East Hampton.

The last train to New York was at 1:22 a.m.

Tom and Stella made it with time to spare.

But the small station house was closed, so they huddled together and waited on the open platform.

The train was ten minutes late, and Tom and Stella were the only two to board.

They sat in an empty car, saying nothing, Stella leaning into Tom, his arm around her shoulder.

At one point she fell asleep and Tom just looked out the window.

They reached Penn Station at just after 4:00 a.m., then made their way on foot to Grand Central.

Two refugees crossing streets that were all but empty. The train from Grand Central to White Plains didn’t depart for another hour, but there was food and water to buy.

And books, too.

Paperbacks this time, and magazines.

Tom knew that with wandering came plenty of time to read.

It was first light when the Metro-North train pulled into the White Plains station.

Tom’s truck was still in the lot.

Seeing it, he felt relief.

Its not being there would have been the last possible glitch in his escape plan.

Retrieving the key from its hiding place behind the driver’s side rear wheel, Tom unlocked the passenger door and helped Stella in.

He did a quick recon of the area as he walked around to the driver’s door, but he saw nothing he didn’t like.

Climbing in behind the wheel, he started the motor and steered out of the lot, following the signs to the interstate and checking his rearview mirror often.

No one was behind them.

His instinct was to head north.

He had done that when he’d first left the city, five years before.

Passing on Carrington’s job offer as they stood in Tom’s hotel room and slipping out in the middle of the night then, too, because he simply couldn’t wait any longer.

He was craving motion and the feeling of freedom that came with it.

Got in his pickup and just drove.

Now, he was making that same journey again.

Only not alone this time.

It was when they were on the New York State Thruway, heading north at last, his truck the only vehicle in sight, that Tom asked Stella where she wanted to go.

She thought about it for a moment, then said, “Show me the places you’ve been.”

Tom asked if there was any place in particular she wanted to see first.

She thought about that, too. “Actually, there is.”

“Name it.”

Stella looked at him.

“Take me to where you were born,” she said. “I want to see where you come from. I want to know everything about you. And I want you to know everything about me.”

Tom smiled and nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “You got it, Stella.”

She was smiling, too.

Touching his face, she looked out the windshield at the road ahead.

“I mean, hey, we’ve got nothing but time now, right?” she said.