The revelation that Sean had been married was surprising. To discover he had been acting as a bodyguard to some two-bit hoodlum was too shocking to believe. However, the more he looked it into and checked, the more it appeared to be true. Nobody could deny the evidence. The body was that of Sean Fox. The DNA was checked and triple checked at Black’s insistence and proved it beyond doubt. Sean Fox, one of the CIA’s best, was dead, mutilated by scumbags unfit to tie his shoelaces.
In the three months since Sean’s death, not a day had gone by that Vincent Black had not thought of Sean and wished vengeance upon his killers. It was within his power. He could order a squad of men and equipment into Mexico but it would be his last act as Director of NCS. Black had been overlooked for promotion many times and for one simple reason, he was the best man for the job. He truly was a master and America could not afford an apprentice in a role so crucial. Above all, Black was a patriot and he could not and would not let his personal vengeance affect America’s ability to defend itself. Black was a modest man but he knew America needed him exactly where he was.
Black’s phone buzzed. He had left instructions not to disturb him.
“It better be important, Jane,” he threatened.
Jane ignored the threat. She had worked for him for every one of his fifteen years as Director. She knew the hard man exterior was only a facade. She also knew the death of Sean Fox was the reason for the mood and all the more reason she was ignoring the threat.
“I have an Agent Smith from New York on the line. I think you’ll want to talk to him.”
“What’s it …” he didn’t get a chance to finish asking. The line clicked, she had just connected him.
“Hi, is that NCS admin?”
“I think you’ve got the wrong line, who is this?”
“Agent James Smith, I’m part of the joint counter terrorism task force based in New York.”
“Hold on, I’ll put you back to my assistant.” Outwardly calm, inwardly seething, he reached for the button to transfer the call back to Jane.
“Wait a minute, will she be able to get me Sean Fox’s records?…”
Black’s finger hovered over the button. On hearing Sean’s name, it retracted immediately.
“…I feel I’m getting the run around here!” exclaimed Smith, frustration clear in his voice.
“Why?” he asked, not letting his hopes rise. Sean Fox was dead.
“We’ve got some guy, looks like a Taliban fighter, with Sean Fox’s passport, claiming to be him!”
“Where are you?”
“New York!” said Smith.
“You said that already, where in New York?” an impatient tone cut through Smith.
“Who is this?” demanded Smith.
“Director Vincent Black, now where are you?!!”
Smith, a long in the tooth CIA agent, was well aware of Vincent Black and who he was.
“Newark Airport, Sir,” he responded quickly, sitting a little straighter in his chair.
“I’ll be there shortly.” He hit the button that ended the call and was immediately reconnected to Jane.
“Get…”
She cut across him. After fifteen years, he didn’t need to ask, she pretty much read his mind most of the time.
“Car’s waiting, jet’s fueled and ready to go.”
Chapter 4
Sean woke up as the door opened. Vincent Black entered, took one look at Sean, saw through the hair and broke into a huge smile.
“I knew it! I fucking knew it!”
As Sean stood up to greet him, Black pushed past Sean’s outstretched hand and uncharacteristically embraced him. Had Sean been able to see behind him, Black was wiping a small tear from his eye.
“Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Sean pulled back from the embrace and looked at the inane grin on Black’s face.
“You’re not fucking dead is what’s going on!”
“Obviously!”
A knock at the door, followed by the appearance of Smith, interrupted the re-union.
“We have a problem.”
“My DNA checked out!” replied Sean stating the obvious, smiling at Black.
“Yes…”
Sean walked towards the door. He’d hung around long enough, his suite was waiting.
“Not so fast. As I said, we have a problem,” repeated Smith firmly.
Black looked at Smith, surprised at his forcefulness.
“So the guy that’s dead wasn’t me, not my problem, goodbye.” Sean opened the door, followed closely by Black.
“That’s the problem. It was you in the headlines. According to the DNA, you are definitely dead.”
Both Sean and Black stopped in their tracks and looked back at Smith. Sean had the door half open.
“Sorry?” asked Black, struggling to comprehend why the obvious error had not been resolved.
“The DNA from the murder victim matches that on your records and the sample you gave us today. Three separate techs have confirmed it.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed Sean. “What’s the chance of a DNA match?
“One in six billion but I think a match with someone who looks like you and takes your identity would be around, oh, one in no fucking chance,” explained Smith succinctly.
Sean thought about what Smith had just said. It didn’t change anything. “Not my problem. I’m out of here!” He opened the door fully.
“Wait a minute,” said Black, turning back towards the small table, wanting to see the results for himself.
Sean was tired and frustrated. He wanted to get to his suite. The bath, steak and comfortable mattress were calling. But with Vincent Black sitting back down, he was left with little option.
“Just check the fingerprints,” offered Sean, taking a seat.
“Not that simple,” replied Black, fully aware of the dead Sean’s lack of digits, hands, arms, feet and legs for that matter. He passed the file that sat in front of Smith to Sean.
Sean opened and witnessed what somebody had done to him. He was immediately incensed. “Holy shit!”
“Not a pretty sight,” agreed Black.
“No,” agreed Sean. “But not just that,” he pointed to a mark on the side of the torso and lifted his shirt — the same mark.
Smith just looked from one to the other. “That’s seriously weird!”
Black looked at the mark and considered the evidence. “There are two options Sean. That’s you or there’s another, sorry, was, another Sean out there exactly like you. You must have had an identical twin.”
“For God’s sake V, you knew them better than me! My mother was desperate for kids and having me was difficult enough. She was desperate for more and trust me, if I had a brother, twin or not, my mother would have kept him.
“I know, I know, it just doesn’t make any sense!” replied Vincent staring at the evidence.
“Adopted?” offered Smith, trying the other most obvious explanation.
“Nope,” replied Vincent. “I was there just before Sean was born and she was definitely pregnant.
“A mix-up at the hospital and they switched the babies by accident?” grasped Smith, looking for a rational explanation.
“He’s the spitting image of his father,” replied Vincent shaking his head.