“In a nutshell, that’s all I know. Now, as anyone can plainly see, I’m in urgent need of serious medical attention. Depriving me of that treatment constitutes torture.”
Tory knew they wouldn’t give in right away. But he also knew he could wear them down. And once they turned him over to the police, he’d be taken straight to a hospital. There, he’d be a suspect, but nothing more. Security would be inconsequential. Handcuffs with a guard or two at the door. He’d act all weak and feeble, not a hard sell given the appearance of his face. Then Wham!
Chase did not look sympathetic to his cause. “We’ll talk about your needs once ours are met. Tell me the story from the beginning. I want dates, instructions, and activities. I want the transcripts of your texts plus your personal observations.”
Tory told them almost everything. He left out only the special instructions for Allison, Felix, and Lisa. The desire to replace an actress and separating military officers. He wanted something to bargain with, on the off chance that he remained in police custody beyond his hospital visit.
Chase sat in silence after Tory finished round two. His laptop was closed by then, and he was back across the table with Skylar by his side. Eventually, he voiced his conclusion. “So basically, you’ve become a professional assassin?”
Tory understood this ploy. Chase was painting his captive as less than human. Justifying what he’d done so he could walk away with a clean conscience. Well, Tory wasn’t going to give him that psychological crutch. “As an intelligence officer, I was always a professional assassin, of sorts. Now I just work for individuals—rather than a government. The pay is much better. You might consider making the switch yourself.”
“I worked for my government to make my country safe.”
“So did I. Now I work for individuals to make them safe.”
“Safe from what?”
“I don’t know. That’s not unusual. Soldiers are rarely told what the generals are thinking.”
Chase remained unblinking. “Guess.”
“My working theory is that they’re spies. Some foreign government or organization wants to weave them into the fabric of American society.”
“To what end?”
“If I could figure that out, I wouldn’t have to guess. As you’ve just heard, the replacement identities are from random locations. Spies would want specific locations. So it’s weak, but I can’t think of a better explanation.”
“Who do you think is killing them?”
Tory shrugged. “It did occur to me that if the CIA discovered what was going on, they might execute the foreign agents in a way that makes their deaths look like accidents.”
“That’s what you’re giving me? The CIA? That’s not going to get you to a hospital.”
“What else can I say?”
Chase got up and poured himself a glass of water. He stretched his quads, triceps, and shoulders before sitting back down.
Tory knew the simple actions were designed to make him uncomfortable, to draw focus to his own cramping muscles, constricted blood flow, and overall lack of freedom. He ignored it, as he did his other discomforts, by keeping focused on the future.
“What would happen if you called Felix and asked for a meeting? What if you told him you had to show him something in person?”
“He’d never agree to it. He’d know it was a trap. What could I tempt him with that I couldn’t reveal over the phone?”
“You could tell him you’ve identified the killer,” Skylar said, commenting for the first time in a while. “Tell him you need to show him what you’ve found. That he needs to experience it for himself.”
“Experience it?”
“Use those words. It’s intriguing. It’s BS, and he’ll likely suspect as much, but he won’t know for sure. And given the level of desperation he’s likely feeling, he may bite. Remember, you already know what he looks like, and you know his new name, so what does he have to lose?”
“His new name is worthless. It’s just a shell identity. My clients aren’t moving into their replacements’ houses. Knowing their new Social Security numbers doesn’t give me their locations. I couldn’t find them if my life depended on it, and they know that. They work very hard to keep it that way.”
Chase rose again, this time to stand behind Skylar. “She’s right, and it’s a good idea. Call Felix. Sell him as if your life depends on it.”
Tory couldn’t think of an objection. He decided to ask for something instead. Start getting them in the habit of giving, and maybe even free his hands. “Will you brew some coffee while I compose my pitch? A handful of aspirin would also be nice.”
Chase walked to the galley where he found a coffee pot and grounds. While it brewed, he rummaged around, obviously looking for something else.
Skylar went to the restroom. She returned before the coffee was done brewing. “No aspirin in the medicine cabinet. It’s bare.”
Chase poured three mugs, and set one before each of them.
Tory decided not to ask Chase to free a hand. He’d just make a pathetic go at it with his burned lips and hope for the best.
What he got was the plastic straw Chase had extracted from a go-cup.
“What is Felix’s number?” Chase asked.
“Speed dial 1.”
Chase checked the call log and found a long string of SD 1 entries. It was a smart move, ensuring that Tory had called it often, that it wasn’t a warning bell. “How do I display the actual number called?”
“You can’t. It’s a feature of the Darknet service they use. I told you they’re crazy about security.”
Chase held the phone close to Tory’s mouth so it would sound less like a speaker phone. Another smart move, but one that ultimately made no difference. The other end rang repeatedly without an answer.
Chase ended the call and began tapping the phone against his open palm. “How hard is it to reach Felix?”
“Easy. In seven months, this is only the second time he hasn’t answered my call.”
“Does he keep tabs on you? Could he know that you’ve been taken?”
“No. I’d have noticed. He’s a numbers guy, not an ops guy. He doesn’t think like us.”
“Defense, not offense?”
“Exactly.”
“What about emergency communication? What’s your backup method?”
“They can reach me on my regular phone, but my only link to them is in your hand. Security freaks, remember?”
Chase was clearly getting a headache from running into so many dead ends. He continued tapping the burner phone through an extended silence. “We’ll try again in fifteen minutes.”
Tory wasn’t optimistic. “Okay. But given the developing pattern, I suspect that Felix may never answer a phone again.”
60
No Joy
LISA LEFT SEVEN STAR ISLAND with hope and a plan. Forget politics. Forget the United States. Get lost overseas and start a new life. A long life. Someplace with warm weather, blue water, and sandy beaches.
She’d check back in with Aria on occasion. Every six months or so—for as long as Aria was alive. If Aria died, Lisa would forget the other Immortals altogether. She liked Pierce and David just fine, but she wouldn’t risk her life to keep in contact with them.
Back home in San Clemente, she gathered everything she couldn’t bring herself to leave behind. Given her deep financial resources and complete lack of family, that amounted to little more than a few photos and awards. Happy days with her mom and dad. College and grad-school shots, yearbooks and awards. All professionally assembled in thick scrapbooks with well-worn edges.