“And that is?”
“A tool for you to use.”
“Like I’m a tool for you to use?” Masterson countered.
“We’re all tools,” Nero said. “Those who know that they are hold the advantage. Ms. Neeley has been putting off the inevitable. Now it’s time to jar her back into reality.”
“That’s—“ Masterson began, but Nero cut her off.
“Perhaps I was a bit harsh saying she was a tool. She’s a person whose life has been shaped a certain way. Do you think she would be content sitting in the West Virginia hills keeping a home like Jesse Gant is? You spent time with her and saw her in action. And you also spent considerable tending a home and being the good wife and that didn’t suit you either. The worst possible existence is living a lie.”
A long silence followed that and, not for the first time or the last, Nero missed his eyes. He wondered what expressions were passing over Ms. Masterson’s face. When she finally did speak, the suddenness almost startled him.
“We talked about that, Neeley and I. About how we were made into tools that men used. Whether it was her being taught the trade of killing or me being taught how to prepare a dinner for my husband’s boss. But, obviously, what I was taught didn’t take. And I am now a much different person than who I was. So why doesn’t Neeley have the same option?”
“Neeley wasn’t taught to be who she is initially,” Nero said. “She was born that way and then had the good fortune to follow her instincts. Meeting Jean-Philippe and entering his world was not a random choice. She was drawn to it. Then Mister Gant finding her was not random. He sensed her and it was more than the bomb she was carrying. He sensed a kindred spirit. She wasn’t running from things like you were. You weren’t making choices, you were trying to avoid bad things. When I studied your profile so many years ago and saw what happened to you as a child and how you reacted to it, I sensed who you really were.”
“So, I’m making choices now?”
“Yes.” Nero paused. “And it is your choice whether or not to call Mister Bailey to go pose the choice to Ms. Neeley.”
Jesse Gant and Neeley sat on the wooden porch watching the first hint of dawn creep over the mountains to the east. In the week that Neeley had been visiting, they had both fallen in the habit of rising early and bringing a steaming cup of coffee out to the deck and sitting there, watching the valley below the house slowly reveal itself. They watched the line of light creep across the lush forest.
They resembled each other, something both had noted on first meeting but not talked about. Neeley was almost six feet tall, Jesse just a shade shorter. Neeley had short, dark hair, while Jesse’s was styled almost the same but red. Both were slender and in good shape. The major difference was in their faces. Neeley’s skin was smooth and unblemished while Jesse’s was liberally sprinkled with freckles.
Most mornings they had talked of Tony Gant, the man they had in common and had both loved. Jesse had left Tony and Neeley had been left in death by him. But the last two mornings the talk had shifted from the past and Tony, to the future and his son with Jesse: Bobbie. He was twenty-two but with the mental capacity of someone a decade younger. He was Jesse’s son and Tony Gant’s legacy to Neeley: on his deathbed he had asked her to take his son and she had promised that she would. It was a situation both women had danced around and finally gotten down to working out.
As promised, Neeley would continue to contribute financially to Bobbie’s future although she knew the money she had taken from the drug dealers Tony had set up for her would not last indefinitely.
“Tony used to watch from there,” Neeley said, as the pre-dawn light made it clear enough to see where she was pointing. “From that ridgeline. I came here with him one time. We spent two days up there. He was very proud of Bobbie.”
“That didn’t do Bobbie any good,” Jesse noted. “Watching but not interacting.”
“Gant was afraid if he contacted you or Bobbie it would bring trouble.”
“Yet trouble came anyway,” Jesse said. “Tony was a good guy but he lived too much in his own head. He figured if he thought something, it was real to other people. But they didn’t know what he thought so it wasn’t real.”
“He did the best he could,” Neeley said.
“I know.” Jesse took a sip of her coffee, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug. “That was the Gant boys — doing their best.”
“Did you know his brother Jack well?” Neeley asked.
This earned her a sharp look from Jesse. “Yes.”
“He works for the Cellar, right?”
“As far as I know,” Jesse said. “I haven’t heard from him in years.”
“I’ve wondered why Gant — Tony — didn’t want me to go to his brother for help,” Neeley said.
Jesse gave a wry smile. “He went down that road once before. He was big on not making the same mistake twice.”
“His rules,” Neeley noted.
“Yes, his damn rules.”
“What do you mean he went down that road before?” Neeley asked, broaching a subject both had avoided.
Surprisingly, Jesse smiled wistfully. “Well they were twins, you know.”
“You mean—“
Jesse shook her head. “It was nothing duplicitous. As I told you, I worked for the Cellar also for a little while. Mister Nero was desirous of having both the Gants working for him. Same face, two different places. I suppose Nero saw lots of possibilities in that. Nero is always looking for possibilities. Tony was in, but Jack was still in the Regular Army, serving in the Rangers. So Mister Nero sent me to recruit Jack.”
“You’re kidding?” Neeley looked shocked. “He used you like that?”
“It was who I was,” Jesse said simply. “It wasn’t a sexual thing. I had this aura and Nero knew its affect on men. I supposed that’s why he only sent me to recruit people, not kill them.”
“Shit,” Neeley suddenly said.
“What’s wrong—“ Jesse began, but then she heard it too, echoing dimly over the forested country-side. An inbound helicopter.
Both women watched as a black Bell Jet Ranger came swooping down the valley, flying very low, military low, just above the treetops. The chopper flared over the field across the county road from Jesse’s place and touched down. The side door opened and a non-descript man stepped out.
“Shit,” Neeley muttered.
“Nero’s dog,” Jesse said as they both watched Bailey walk across the road and up the driveway toward them. She looked over at Neeley. “And he’s come to fetch.”
Bailey stopped at the base of the stairs leading to the deck and looked up at Jesse. “May I come up?”
Jesse stood. “Have time for a cup of coffee?”
Both women could see the struggle on Bailey’s face as he considered the question. He appeared to be in a rush but his last visit here had been a difficult one. “Just one.” He came up the stairs as Jesse went inside. He looked at Neeley.
“You appear well.”
“No thanks to you.”
“I did my duty,” Bailey said in a tone that indicted the matter was not open for discussion.
Jesse came out with a mug and handed it to Bailey before taking her seat. All three could hear the sound of the helicopter’s engine still running. The fact that the pilot had not shut down indicated Bailey did not plan on discussing the weather.
“Are you here for me?” Neeley asked. “Or is this a social call?”
“I am here for you,” Bailey acknowledged. He glanced Jesse. “Not that it isn’t a pleasure to see you again, Jesse. How is Bobbie?”