“What is it?” Maddux demanded.
Too late Bill realized Maddux had caught him staring. “Nothing.” Maddux was self-conscious about his looks. “I was just thinking about my family. I miss them,” he admitted.
“Do you think they really believe you’re dead?”
Bill’s expression turned grim. “I don’t know. But the people at First Manhattan certainly seem to. I read yesterday that the board and the new CEO had a ceremony to unveil a painting of me, which is to be displayed permanently in the lobby of the Wall Street headquarters. Beneath my name are the years of my life. Hell, they think I died last year, according to the painting.”
“That’s just the new CEO pissing on the corporate trees and staking out his territory,” Maddux said confidently. “It’s a good move on his part.”
Only the six highest-ranking leaders of Red Cell Seven, the division leaders, understood what was really going on: that Bill was very much alive and still running RC7 from the shadows.
And as far as Bill could tell, only the two of them knew Maddux’s real story. That after the battle on Gannett Peak, Bill and Maddux had decided to keep Maddux completely “off the grid” as far as anyone knew. It was great cover, allowing Maddux to move through the world even more stealthily, because even spooks who’d believed he was immortal were starting to whisper that the little man might actually be gone.
“Is everything okay with the money?” Maddux asked.
Bill was running RC7 and managing the dollars required to fund the cell’s operations, which were substantial now that they had more than two hundred agents inside. So several of the associates — the wealthy individuals who secretly funded RC7—also knew Bill was still alive. But Bill had chosen all of the associates carefully over the years. And though they weren’t actually members of the cell, the three associates who knew Bill was actually in hiding were equally as loyal as the initiated agents and would never give away the secret — or anything else about RC7.
“The money situation’s fine, Shane,” Bill answered confidently.
He just wished he could tell his family what was going on. But that would put them in grave danger, especially Cheryl. Stewart Baxter would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. Roger Carlson’s wife had been found dead in the Potomac River. Bill assumed Cheryl would suffer the same fate if Baxter thought he could get information about him and Maddux out of her.
“We have several billion dollars in reserve.”
Bill enjoyed watching Maddux’s mouth fall slightly open. Maddux tried hard never to seem impressed. He always had, ever since Bill had first met the short man with the narrow shoulders and the spindly legs who walked with a limp but wouldn’t tell anyone why. But the comment about “several billion dollars in reserve” had obviously impressed him. They’d known each other too long for Maddux to be able to completely hide his emotions and therefore his awe at the number Bill had just uttered.
“We have that much?” Maddux asked.
“And there’s much more if we need it,” Bill said, “much more. The associates are very loyal to us. They appreciate what we do, and that’s putting it mildly.”
“No one can ever trace the money?”
“Never,” Bill answered confidently.
“I’m sorry the board replaced you, Bill. I’m sorry they hung that painting up.”
This cabin, located deep in the forests of western New York near Seneca Lake, was outfitted with all modern conveniences, including Internet service. So they were able to keep current on everything happening in the world. Maddux had read about the ceremony as well.
“It’s all right.” It was the first time in nine months Maddux had identified in any way the sacrifice Bill had made by disappearing. “Thanks, Shane.”
“Have you heard anything about Daniel Gadanz?”
“What do you mean?” Maddux asked. “What about him?”
“It’s been nine months since we almost got him in Florida. And he’s got to be pretty damn upset about his brother. He’s a vindictive bastard, Shane. It doesn’t figure that he hasn’t stepped up and carried out some sort of revenge. Nine months ago he had kill squads shooting American civilians in shopping malls, for Christ’s sake. It’s not as if he won’t go to extremes to carry out things.”
Maddux shrugged. “Maybe he’s gone soft. Maybe he’s finally satisfied.”
“No chance. Having all that money just makes a man like that even more dangerous.”
Maddux shrugged again. “If he tries something we’ll get him. For now let the DEA deal with him.”
Bill rolled his eyes as he stood up. The DEA wasn’t going to get Daniel Gadanz. More likely, he’d get them. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
“Don’t be surprised when you get there.”
Bill had been walking away, but he turned back around. “What?”
Maddux gestured toward the bedrooms. “Just go. You’ll see. Happy birthday, Bill.”
“Thanks,” he said hesitantly. Something strange was going on here.
Bill caught his breath when he pushed open the bedroom door. Rita Hayes was looking back at him from beneath the covers. She’d been his executive assistant for a long time, since she’d been a young woman. She’d never married and had been open about her attraction to him from the very start of their working relationship. They’d been intimate over the years, but she’d never made trouble for him — until she’d secretly made that tape of them together for Maddux. But the tape didn’t matter now. He and Maddux had patched up their differences. He certainly hoped so, anyway.
Physical desire surged through Bill as he gazed down at Rita. That urge never left men, no matter how old they were. And it had been a long time since he’d satisfied it.
“Hello, Bill,” Rita murmured. “Join me in bed.”
Bill’s eyes flickered down as she slowly slid the covers back. She still looked good, and he grimaced as he gazed longingly at her. Her death warrant had just been signed and sealed. She knew he was alive now. Maddux would never let her leave here knowing that.
The SWAT team burst into the basement of the East Los Angeles apartment with no warning. Twelve minutes ago they’d received a code-scarlet alarm from one of the anonymous numbers that they’d been told to always give highest priority.
Within seconds of breaking through the door, they had three men in custody and were already inventorying the staggering cache of bomb-making equipment stored in the four rooms.
The next day they would ascertain from one of the suspects during questioning that the men had intended to detonate a massive bomb that week in the lobby of a downtown skyscraper — at lunchtime.
Troy Jensen had saved hundreds of civilian lives — though none of them would ever have any idea how close they’d come to death.
CHAPTER 19
Skylar sat on a smooth, narrow ledge listening to the waves pound the base of the cliffs a hundred feet below. As the surf crashed against the rocks over and over, she stared into the night sky above the Alaskan mainland, which was due north of her position and across the wide, deep strait the ledge overlooked.
Her premonition had turned out to be quite accurate. Despite how early in the fall it was, the northern lights were giving her a spectacular show this evening. As she sat with her back against the cliff and her legs dangling over the edge, yellow and green waves of gleaming light rolled back and forth across the dark canvas above her in space like soft, slow-motion lasers. It was an incredible display of what nature could create. So much more impressive than what any Hollywood hotshot could produce with high-tech cameras and manipulated pixels.