She looked behind her to make sure she still had time. The last people were starting up the stairs. She only had a moment.
She turned back to Fisk. “I learned from you. I am bringing him to justice. As you did Magnus Jenssen. I am obeying the rule of law, not of vengeance. Blood vendettas are the old Mexico. This”—she pointed to the aircraft, its prisoner waiting on board—“is how we will bring about real change. By owning our past and looking to the future.” She touched the shoulder of his bad arm gently. “You set the example. I thank you.”
She kissed him again.
“I said it before,” she said. “We are too much alike.”
She gave his good arm a squeeze, then turned, black hair flying, jogging to the bottom step of the wheeled staircase and then up to the door of the plane, looking back at him one more time before entering.
CHAPTER 81
Eight days later, Fisk was lying in his bed, sleeping fitfully with his arm in a cast, when his cell phone awoke him. He looked at the display, then sat up, pushing a pillow behind his head. The phone rang twice more while he was trying to decide whether or not to answer it.
“Fisk,” he said groggily.
“You bastard.”
It was Dave Link, his friend from the CIA. “Hi, Dave.”
“You fucked me. If it gets out that I got you inside for that meeting, I will deny everything. Then I’ll fucking drone-strike your house.”
“Okay.”
Silence on the other end.
“Okay?” said Link. “What the hell is wrong with you, man? How’d you do it? On TV, they’re saying it was karma. I know better. I know it was Jeremy Fisk.”
Fisk’s mouth was painfully dry. “I gotta go, Dave.”
“Lose this number. You and I are strangers from this moment forward. Understood?”
“Understood.”
Click. Fisk lowered his phone. He felt very warm and a little shaky.
He sat there in bed for a while before turning on the television.
The news jumped out at him from CNN. Magnus Jenssen was dead, after serving only a few weeks in prison. The cause of death was apparently a previously undetected, fast-moving cancer.
The CNN graphic read: A FITTING END?
Fisk turned off the television, letting the dark reclaim the room. He stared into the nothingness, his left forearm itching as though the hard cast were infested with bugs.
He thought of his meeting with Jenssen, the terrorist taunting him about the weakness of America’s overly tolerant system of justice. Fisk remembered the aftermath of the meeting, how he cleaned up the remains of the cupcake he had brought for him using the thick foil wrapper Fisk had baked it in . . . which was designed to shield the bearer from exposure to alpha radiation from the microgram of deadly polonium-210 contained therein. Polonium that Fisk had stolen from the evidence in the smoky-bomb case he had busted.
Fisk settled back into bed.
Jenssen was dead and gone.
Fisk tried to picture Krina Gersten in this moment of supposed victory, and the awful truth was . . . he could not. Not completely. Not anymore.
Gersten was fading away.
He could picture Cecilia Garza, however. Leaving him on that airplane with the criminal she had spared, thanks to his example.
Fisk rubbed his good hand over his chest. He wondered how much his exposure to radiation had shortened his life. How much his organs had been affected on a cellular level, and what health surprises lay ahead of him.
This retributive act had corrupted him—not only morally, but also physically.
Which, to him, seemed just. Time would tell.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To Noelle, Olivia, Serena, Elliot, Zoe, and Rex for their patience, support, and understanding. To Chuck Hogan for his friendship and support. And to Richard Abate and David Highfill for making me look good. Thank you all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DICK WOLF, a two-time Emmy award–winning writer, producer, and creator, is the architect of one of the most successful brands in the history of television—NBC’s Law & Order, among the longest-running scripted shows. Wolf has won numerous awards, including Emmys for Outstanding Drama Series (Law & Order) and Outstanding Made-for-Television Movie (Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee); a Grammy; and an Edgar. He is the New York Times bestselling author of The Intercept; The Execution is the second book in his Jeremy Fisk series. He lives in Southern California.
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ALSO BY DICK WOLF
The Intercept
CREDITS
Cover design by Mary Schuck
Cover photograph © by Sam Edwards/plainpicture
COPYRIGHT
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
THE EXECUTION. Copyright © 2014 by Dick Wolf. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
ISBN 978-0-06-206485-1 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-06-232532-7 (international edition)
EPub Edition © JANUARY 2014 ISBN 9780062064868
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