“Do you really think you’ll get away with shooting a police officer and stealing his vehicle?” said Montez from the backseat.
“I’ll be asking the questions from now on.”
“You sound pleased with yourself.”
“Would you like to be gagged again?”
Montez didn’t answer.
A thought came to Nathan. Grangeland. She’d be driving into a gauntlet of SDPD’s finest. He used the recent call feature on his phone and hit send.
“Nathan?”
“Change of plans. Keep going south on Mission Boulevard past Belmont Park. Make a right at the very end and find me. I’ve still got Montez. He killed a security guard. Look for a parked SDPD cruiser. Where are you?”
“Westbound on Sea World Drive. Seems like every cop in the city is converging to your location. I’ve been passed by two code-three cruisers doing over a hundred.”
“Call if you have any trouble finding me.”
He estimated he had four minutes before she arrived. Probably the same for an SDPD helicopter. By now, Dalton’s yacht would be on its way back to the marina. He hoped Dalton would survive his wounds. The man had surrendered himself to this sadistic madman to save his family. Whoever Dalton was, he couldn’t be all bad.
At the end of Mission Boulevard, he turned right, drove several hundred yards, and pulled into an isolated parking stall facing the channel.
Why not use this time productively?
Pistol in hand, he climbed out. His feet still stung, but not as badly now. He stepped gingerly around the cruiser and got into the backseat next to Montez, making sure to leave the door open. He didn’t want to lock himself in. The dome light stayed dark.
“Well, Colonel Montez, you really look like shit.”
“Tell me something, McBride. Why didn’t you give me your name down there? What harm would it have caused? Why not just do it and avoid the pain?”
“Because it was all I had left,” Nathan whispered, almost to himself. He shook his head, marveling at how smoothly Montez had taken the initiative from him. “If you go off-topic again, Monty, I’m going to hurt you badly. Do you understand? Let’s get right to it. Who are you working for and what’s Dalton’s role?”
“You really don’t know?”
Nathan sighed. “I warned you.” He pulled his Predator and jammed the tip into Montez’s cheek. He applied a gradual increasing pressure, forcing Montez to hold perfectly still or risk a lengthy incision. A rivulet of blood oozed from the small cut. “A few more pounds of pressure and the blade goes through to your cheekbone. I’d really hate to see your face ruined… like mine.”
Montez said nothing.
“Well?”
“I only learned the truth tonight. I thought I was working for Dalton, but he was only a middleman.”
“A middleman? For whom?”
“You won’t like the answer.”
“Try me.”
“The CIA.”
Chapter 47
“Yeah, right.”
“It’s true.”
“So I’m supposed to believe you were working for the United States government?”
“Believe what you want.”
“Why would the CIA need a worm like you involved with a clean coal negotiation in Hungary? That’s horse crap. You’re lying.”
“The clean coal thing was only a front.”
“For what?”
“Counterterrorism. Holding and transfer of enemy combatants. Rendition.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been interrogating prisoners.”
Nathan felt his blood pressure rise. “I don’t believe you.”
“I can prove it. The thumb drive in your pocket? Dalton confessed to everything.”
“You tortured him. Of course he confessed.”
“He held out for quite a while, made a heroic stand.”
Nathan let the knife sink a fraction of an inch into Montez’s cheek. “Spare me your sick musings. You were going to dump Dalton in the ocean. Alive. Like you did to Kramer. You could’ve killed Kramer first. Why drown him like that?”
“I’d put up with Kramer for years. He was a small, cruel man who lorded every ounce of power he had over those around him.”
“Sounds like you. So you’re claiming Dalton works for the CIA?”
“He did. As a contractor. He owned a small, private company called Ironclad Management.”
“And Kramer’s shell company, Energy Solutions?”
“Was hired by Ironclad. A subcontractor.”
“Which dealt directly with you.”
“Yes. Kramer brought me the interrogation subjects. Terrorists. Captured by your military or CIA, then taken to a safe house in Hungary for safekeeping until it was time for their interrogations on Tobago. The clean coal venture allowed us to use Hungary as a depot. Everything was done with private jets. That’s where I came in. Kramer simply handled the arrivals and disposals.”
“Then what did Dalton do?”
“It’s all on the thumb drive.”
Nathan pushed the knife. “I’m asking you.”
“I already told you. Dalton was a middleman, reporting to a United States Senator. A member of the mighty Committee on Domestic Terrorism.”
Nathan literally felt his heart pound. His father would never be party to this.
He moved his Predator to Montez’s right eye. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not, I swear.”
“Which Senator?” He drove the knife’s tip into the lower eyelid and felt the blade pierce skin. “Which one?”
“Alan Kallstrom.”
Nathan pulled the steel back, letting himself breathe again, then felt shame. Sudden and deep. How could he have suspected his own father? Familiar hatred began boiling. Hatred for being manipulated. For being paranoid. Hatred of his own nature. What have I become that I would suspect my own father of working with this animal?
“McBride.…” Montez said slowly. “You’re Senator Stone McBride’s son? And you thought I was referring to him?” He smiled. “Close to your father, are you?”
Nathan’s voice took on a sudden calmness. “There’s someone I want you to meet, Mr. Montez.”
Montez looked around in mock curiosity. “We seem to be alone.”
“We are alone, just the three of us.” He waited, allowing his meaning to sink in. Montez had seen the other. Many times.
Montez’s expression changed to fear, and he began speaking rapidly. “If you torture or kill me, Dalton’s confession in your pocket will be distributed to every major news network. Your country will be mired in scandal for decades. World opinion of America will plummet to an all-time low.”
“Like I care.”
“What about your precious patriotism? You told me many times you’d never betray your country, no matter what I did to you.”
“A lot can change over the years,” he lied.
“I don’t believe you. I heard what you said to the police officer. You still fancy yourself as an honorable man.”
“Believe what you want. You can contemplate it while screaming in agony.”
“You won’t kill me. You won’t risk it.”
“You’re right, I won’t kill you… right away.”
“I’m not afraid of you, McBride.”
He leaned forward. “You will be.” He let that soak in for a few seconds. “You’re forgetting how well I know you. You told me many times you didn’t trust anyone but yourself. I’m betting this is the only copy.”
“One week ago, your government tried to kill me and sweep my operation under the rug. I’ve been preparing for this betrayal for years.”
Nathan smiled. “It’s much worse than that.”
Montez squinted, looked confused.
“My government wants you alive.”
Montez’s entire body tensed.
“That’s right. Alive and kicking. Once the CIA’s finished with you, you’ll be in diapers, drooling in a mental ward and listening to elevator music.”