“It’s you!” she says.
The voice says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Maybe says, “I’d know your voice anywhere. Just because it’s altered doesn’t mean it’s different. You called me every day for the past year. Every day until…”
She looks at Sam, sees fear in his eyes. He struggles to break free from the cuffs.
But the cuffs are real.
From some dark place in the pit of Maybe’s stomach the anger starts like a smoldering chunk of coal. Within seconds it flares up as if coaxed by a bellows. The flame rises through her body, flushing her neck, ears, and face. Her eyes narrow.
Sam stops trying to break free long enough to say, “Please!”
But the word didn’t come from a man’s voice. It was more like the sound a whimpering, sniveling little boy might make.
When Maybe speaks into the phone her words are measured, but firm.
She says, “What’s going on here?”
The voice on the other end pauses, then says, “I knew nothing about this business with Sam until I heard the tape.”
“What tape?”
“Sam had a friend, Doc Howard, who recently passed away. I was going through Doc’s things today and came across a tape of a phone conversation he had with Sam a few days ago. I’m going to play you the tape.”
And he does.
She stares straight ahead. Blinks twice. Then presses the record button on Sam’s phone and says, “Please. Play it once more.”
He does.
Then he hangs up.
Then Maybe hangs up.
She looks at Sam, trussed like a turkey.
He whimpers, “I love you!”
She shakes her head, hoping to force her brain to comprehend what she just heard.
“Kimberly!” he says. “What’s wrong?”
“You love me, don’t you Sam?”
He strains to break the handcuffs on his wrists and ankles, but again, these aren’t lovers’ toys, they’re regulation handcuffs. Sam flops around the floor like the fish she caught many years ago when she was a kid. The fish flipped and flapped and kept trying to hurl itself back into the lake. Eventually the fish gave up and accepted its fate.
Only then did Maybe kick it back into the water.
Sam looks like a trussed turkey when he’s not flopping around like a fish out of water. A trussed turkey with a heavily-bandaged beak.
“You love me, Sam?”
“I do! I swear to God!”
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
She presses the rewind button and says, “Don’t lie to God.”
“I wasn’t! I was just-”
She presses the speaker button, so he can hear the tape. Without question, it’s Sam’s voice. And what he’s saying is, “Kimberly Creed is inferior to me in every possible way. And now I’ve made her my fuck pony.”
She presses the stop button to observe the effect these words have on her boyfriend.
As she expected, Sam doesn’t look so good. His face has turned pale. His lips are trembling.
She presses the play button so Sam can hear his voice say, “Fucking her was child’s play! And I’ll continue to fuck her as long as it suits me, though she’s not much of a lay. If not for the connection to Creed, I wouldn’t travel across town to do her.”
She’s so hurt, so dejected, all she can manage to say is, “Sam.”
He says, “I can explain.”
But he can’t. She sees his mind racing to come up with something plausible to say, but the tape blindsided him so completely he’s got…nothing.
She closes Sam’s cell phone, tosses it on the bed. Then she walks across the room to retrieve something from her handbag.
He sees it and says, “Don’t do this!”
She moves toward him.
27
Darwin.
DARWIN CAN’T BELIEVE it. Things had been going so well. He called Sam, told him to forget the hit on Sherry Cherry, told him it was too late. Told him, “I’m quitting. I’m out of it.”
Then Sam said, “You can’t quit!” and Darwin said, “Creed knows everything. You’re on your own!”
Then Darwin said, “If you’re smart, you’ll take your life before Creed hunts you down.”
Except that last part was heard by Kimberly.
Creed’s daughter.
The one who thought she’d been talking to Sam for the past year.
Darwin didn’t get to age sixty in the assassination business without being quick-witted. He had one ace in the hole.
The tape.
…And figured this was as good a time as any to play it.
Perhaps the tape would infuriate her enough to kill Sam. That would be the ideal situation. Because if Sam’s alive when Creed shows up, he’ll spill his guts and Creed will learn it was Darwin who manipulated Kimberly to become a killer.
Darwin, not Sam.
So he played the tape. She asked him to play it again, and Darwin obliged. Then he hung up and started to make one last call. But before he could press the button on his speed dial, his phone rang.
Creed.
He answers, and Creed says, “Get your things and meet us in the lobby in two minutes. We’re out of here!”
Darwin’s bags are already packed, which gives him sixty seconds to make one last phone call before his official retirement. The call he’s contemplating will impact Rachel Case’s future. In Darwin’s opinion, Rachel is certifiably insane, and she’s Creed’s only weakness. He thinks a moment, trying to decide if the call is necessary. For the sake of his partnership with Creed, he decides it is.
When he presses the button, Lou answers.
“This is Lou Kelly. Who’s calling?”
Darwin turns on the voice-altering equipment and says, “Lou, this is Holden Prescott.
Lou knows Holden is the chairman of Homeland Security.
Darwin continues, “The committee has reviewed your credentials and are preparing to render a decision regarding your request to replace Darwin. In fairness, I need to point out the committee is divided. Several members feel Donovan Creed is the best candidate for the job. I happen to disagree. In my opinion, Creed’s unstable.”
“What can I do to help sway the vote?” Lou says.
“Those who support Creed think you’re too soft.”
“What? Creed and I worked overseas for years with the CIA. If you check the record you’ll see I matched him kill for kill.”
“That was a long time ago, Mr. Kelly.”
“I’m up for any action that protects my country,” Lou says. “Name it.”
“There’s one thing I know that would sway the committee.”
“Tell me. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“It has recently come to our attention there’s a patient locked away in your facility, in an interior padded cell. She’s been receiving drug rehabilitation treatments.”
“I’m aware of the patient and the significance of keeping her safe.”
“Her safety is no longer an issue.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Center for Disease Control has gotten to the President. He’s nixed the exchange. The scientists at Mount Weather are refusing to give up Rachel Case for Sherry Birdsong.”
“Actually, that’s good news for me.”
“Why’s that?”
“As a matter of full disclosure, Ms. Birdsong-who goes by her maiden name, Cherry-has expressed an interest in dating me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Kelly, because the government can’t afford to let Sherry live. If she’s captured by one of our enemies, they could possibly use her genetic code to create the Spanish Flu virus. You want to be head of Sensory Resources? I believe the job is yours, provided you can assume credit for terminating Ms. Birdsong.”
“Surely there must be a better way! Have you considered placing her in the bunker at Mount Weather? She’s the perfect backup in case something happens to Rachel. You could protect her there, and harvest her genetic code along with Rachel’s.”