“My God,” he whispered, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolling quickly to the pictures he’d been sent by the DEA while he and Travers were flying down here this morning.
He gazed at one of the photos for several moments, then down at the face of the person on the ground. He’d just shot Emilio Vasquez. The coward had tried to escape dressed as a woman.
CHAPTER 33
“Congratulations, Troy. You risked everything, and you won. The country will never know what a hero you are.” Bill hesitated. “But I do.”
“I don’t care about the country knowing. I care about it being safe.”
Troy and Bill were sitting alone in Bill’s big study at the house in Connecticut. Bill was behind the large platform desk, and Troy was relaxing in a leather wingback chair before it. The walls were made of dark-wood paneling, it was night, and the only light was coming from a dim bulb in a floor lamp in one corner of the room.
The tables and credenzas were littered with financial tombstones — Lucite-encased announcements of the many Wall Street deals Bill had done during his career — as well as photographs of Bill shaking hands with politicians and sports stars.
It was like a shrine in here, Troy figured as he looked around. “How many of the death squad members have been arrested so far?” he asked as he glanced at a photo of a young Bill Jensen wearing his Marine uniform and shaking hands with President Reagan. He promised himself that if he ever had an office like this, there wouldn’t be a single self-portrait in it.
“Thirty-three,” Bill answered. “According to the information that was in that briefcase of Daniel Gadanz’s you grabbed off the tarmac in Florida, there were a total of forty-four death squad members. Four of them died in Minneapolis the first day of the attacks, and as I said, thirty-three more have been arrested in the last twelve hours. That leaves seven of them still unaccounted for. But with the data from the briefcase and the pictures of those seven men being flashed constantly on TV, they won’t be at large for long.” Bill grinned proudly. “The country’s breathing a sigh of relief, son. There have been no more attacks, and I don’t think there will be. You and Wilson Travers are the reasons why. Red Cell Seven came through again.”
“There were lots of people involved, Dad. Those special-forces guys with us today in Florida were studs. So were the Apache pilots. They deserve the credit.”
“Not like you and Travers.”
“How did Daniel know it was time to run?” Bill was being too effusive with his praise, and it made Troy uncomfortable. It felt forced, like his father was trying to make up for something. “Did Jacob send him a message?”
“Yes.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Fear. Jacob knew Daniel would find out sooner or later who the rat was. Maybe he figured his brother would go easier on him if he had at least sent a warning. Maybe he wasn’t really trying to save himself. Maybe he was just hoping Daniel would spare his girls, that he wouldn’t take revenge on them thanks to the message at the last minute.”
“We’re going to protect them, right?”
“Absolutely,” Bill confirmed. “They are already deep into the program, along with their mother.”
“And Jacob’s in custody? He’s not going free, is he? I sure hope not,” Troy said firmly.
“Jacob’s dead.”
Troy had been gazing at the antlered head of an elk, which was mounted on the wall to his left. That elk had been there ever since Troy could remember, and its presence had always irritated him. It wasn’t right to kill animals just to hang them on a wall. He’d known that by the time he was ten years old. Why didn’t Bill?
“Dead?”
“He jumped out of a van the Feds were transporting him in from the townhouse in Manassas,” Bill explained. “It happened on the Dulles Toll Road outside DC. The van was doing seventy at the time.”
It occurred to Troy that perhaps Jacob had help jumping out of the van, but he didn’t care. “Jacob got what he deserved. And I’m assuming Daniel got away.”
“He did. I understand we tracked the Learjet all the way to Paraguay by satellite. We scrambled two fighters from a base in Tampa, but the Lear was out of U.S. airspace too fast to do anything.”
“Yeah, but—”
“And too far away.”
“Too bad.”
“You got Emilio Vasquez. That was a great catch.”
“Is he going to live?” Troy asked.
“You got him good through the right lung, but the doctors say he’ll survive. The information he has should prove very helpful.”
Troy shook his head. “Vasquez won’t talk. You know that, Dad. And the usual channels can’t do what they need to do to get him to—”
“I’m working on that. I think RCS will get custody of him soon. The DEA will help us with that. They’re very appreciative of what you and Travers did. They don’t give a rat’s ass about President Dorn’s kinder, gentler agenda. They are like us. They understand the lengths to which we must go. They understand that it’s a guerrilla war, which cannot be waged with decorum. The war on drugs is very much like the war on terrorism. The people at the DEA laugh at President Dorn.”
“Good.”
“I heard you saw Jennie before you went to Florida.”
“How’d you hear that?”
“I called her. She told me. I like her, Troy. I hope you two keep in touch.” Bill turned his head slightly to the side. “What’s wrong, son?”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem…preoccupied. Is everything all right? You should be a very happy man.”
Troy thought long and hard before he spoke. “I’m considering resigning from Red Cell Seven.”
Bill pursed his lips tightly. “Does this have anything to do with Little Jack?”
It surprised Troy when his father zeroed immediately in on the issue. Spending time with his young sons had never been a priority for Bill. “Maybe.”
“Take your time with that decision. Once you leave, you can’t come back.”
“I don’t want L.J. to be without a mother and a father growing up. Mom’s doing a great job, and I appreciate it…but still.”
“Troy, you shouldn’t let—”
“Even if I never have another gun aimed at me, I’ll be gone all the time if I stay with RCS, Dad.”
“It’s a huge sacrifice. There’s no doubt.”
“I’ll never see my boy.”
“You have a responsibility to your country,” Bill argued gently. “Not many people can do what you can. If you leave Red Cell Seven, this country becomes weaker.”
“I have a responsibility to my son as well. He needs me.”
“It’s a hard choice, Troy. I’m not about to say it isn’t.”
“I’ll never see L.J.,” Troy repeated. “Worse, he’ll never see me. I know how that feels, and I don’t want him knowing.”
Bill grimaced.
Troy felt bad for launching that verbal missile, but it had to be said. It had been a long time coming. “You knew about the plot to kill President Dorn all along. Didn’t you, Dad?”
“It was Shane Maddux’s idea,” Bill spoke up sharply.
“But in the end, you and Carlson backed it.”
“Yes, we did,” Bill admitted. “Let’s be brutally honest here. President Dorn’s a very liberal politician. But even worse, he’s a weak man. Down deep I think he understands what has to be done to protect this country. But he won’t do it. The Holiday Mall Attacks are a perfect example. We deal with the chaos, and he still wants to do away with us. And things are only going to get worse from here,” he continued. “Today it’s drug billions partnering with religious extremists. Who knows what it’ll be tomorrow. RCS’s survival is essential if the country is going to be prepared for whatever it turns out to be. We can’t have a man in the Oval Office who wants to destroy us. Full stop.”