“Well, that’s not true. Everyone can see the light if you just—”
“See.” Troy smiled grimly. “You don’t get it.” He inhaled deeply. “I hope that doesn’t cost you the ultimate at some point. ”
“What happened?” Jack asked after a few moments of silence, pointing at the dark stain on Troy’s shirt. Troy had winced just then.
“Nothing.”
“Troy.”
Troy lifted his shirt, and it was Jack’s turn to grimace. Troy had a nasty wound on his side just above his belt. So Charlie had connected once.
“It’s still bleeding.”
“It’s fine,” Troy said firmly. “I’ve had a lot worse than—” He interrupted himself at the distant sound of a vehicle coming up the gravel driveway. “Come on,” he ordered, pointing at a fence line on a ridge overlooking the farmhouse and then at Jack’s gun as they started to sprint. “Make sure that gun’s ready.”
CHAPTER 29
“My father is alive?” Skylar whispered. “That can’t be true.”
“It is absolutely true,” Baxter confirmed. “But he’s in hiding. He has been for years.”
For the second time in as many minutes the world blurred before Skylar. “Why is he in hiding?” And he hadn’t contacted her in all these years? That seemed impossible. “Tell me.”
President Dorn and Baxter exchanged glances.
“Tell me,” she demanded again.
She had to have details, specific details along with irrefutable evidence. Now the questions were piling up in her brain like car accidents on a foggy interstate. Where was he, how long had he been there, how did Baxter and Dorn know all this, along with that big question of why he was hiding in the first place.
She had a healthy skepticism for any story, after living in the dark shadows of her special-forces branch the last three years. In a setting where it seemed disinformation was always more prevalent than the truth.
“Why is he in hiding?” she repeated. “I need to know.”
“Of course you do,” Baxter agreed, “but—”
“I believe Stewart explained that your father has done work for the Office of Naval Intelligence,” Dorn cut in, gesturing at Baxter. “Isn’t that true, Stewart?”
“Yes, Mr. President. I told Commander McCoy about that.”
“He made his living on the Bering Sea,” Dorn went on. “But the Alaskan Star performed another very valuable task for this country while she was out there on those rough waters. The ship picked up and delivered U.S. spies to and from our submarines. Spies who were heading for or coming back from highly classified missions in Asia.”
“I know,” she said, nodding at Baxter. “Baxter told—”
“Your father is a patriot of the highest order,” Baxter interrupted. “He’s a great man.”
“I need proof of life,” she said bluntly.
Baxter reached for a large envelope that was leaning against the leg of his chair and handed it to Skylar.
With trembling fingers she opened it and carefully slid a large color photograph from inside. She gasped softly, and tears welled in her eyes as she stared at her father’s face. He looked older, much older than she remembered, but it was definitely Kevin McCoy.
As she gazed at the man she’d missed so much, an awful truth hit her squarely and inescapably between the eyes. If her father was alive, she might have to accept responsibility for killing an innocent man on that mountain in Denali. If her father was alive, then it was possible Red Cell Seven had caused that terrible accident in Alaska in which Bianca had died — but her boyfriend had survived. And if Red Cell Seven had caused the accident, then Bianca’s boyfriend hadn’t — which meant she had indeed killed an innocent young man on that steep slope high above the valley floor.
But the police report had claimed Bianca’s boyfriend was drunk at the time of the accident. And that he had been at fault for plowing his pickup into that grove of trees. Skylar had seen all that in the report with her own eyes. She’d even seen the gruesome picture of Bianca’s face after crashing through the windshield as she lay on a gurney in the morgue.
Of course, a group like RC7, with powerful men like Bill Jensen at the helm, could manipulate anything they wanted. Skylar and her superior had talked many times about how it seemed that a “black hand” was constantly at work behind the scenes, pulling strings. Perhaps they’d manipulated this.
She pointed at the photograph. “This doesn’t prove anything.”
She’d figured they would have had her father holding up a recent newspaper so the date was obvious in the photo. But they hadn’t. Of course, in this day and age that kind of thing could have been easily simulated, even by an amateur. Hell, these days the photograph could be a fake but look real as hell. Her father’s image in the picture might simply be some artist’s interpretation of what he would look like now if he were alive.
“No, it doesn’t,” President Dorn agreed. “You’ll have to take my word on that, Skylar. You’ll have to take my word for something else as well,” he continued.
“What?”
“Once you’ve completed the initial phase of your mission, you and your father will be reunited. It will be a short meeting at a secret location. But you will spend time with him. In fact, if you and the group you put together for this mission I’m asking you to execute for me are successful, your father might be able to come out of hiding for good.”
Skylar gazed into Dorn’s “floor model” eyes, wondering if she could trust the president of the United States. That seemed like a stupid question with a simple answer. “Why is my father in hiding?” she asked. “What did he find out about Red Cell Seven that forced him to go underground?”
Dorn gestured at Baxter. “Go ahead, Stewart. You can tell her.”
“I’ve already communicated to you, Commander McCoy, that RC7 doesn’t officially report to any branch of the United States government. It operates completely independently.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It doesn’t receive any money from the federal government, either. That makes it even harder for prying eyes to detect, nearly impossible, I would say.”
It was a creative way to keep things covert, she had to admit. Her superiors always complained about money trails potentially making their black ops transparent to scrutiny from overreaching congressional subcommittees — and others.
“As you can imagine, RC7 has a significant monthly nut they have to fund. They need money, but they have to be creative about how they get it if they’re going to stay invisible. Now,” Baxter continued after a short pause, “they also have the ability to procure weapons. We believe that comes primarily through contacts of Bill Jensen. First Manhattan does significant banking business with all the big defense contractors.” Baxter hesitated again, to let her know what he was about to say was extremely significant. “Bottom line, your father uncovered one of the major ways RC7 funded itself. The cell sold weapons to outlaw nations and then funneled the cash secretly back to hidden accounts. Bill Jensen arranged the arms deals without our defense contractors knowing exactly who the buyers were. And then, at his direction, First Manhattan laundered and redirected the cash transfers, erasing all records of the buyers.”