Maden Mike - Tom Clancy Firing Point

“What? That’s crazy. You think it’s related to his death?”

“Could have been a couple of tweakers stealing stuff. But my guess is that someone was trying to find whatever top-secret materials he might have had in his possession, or cover some tracks related to his death.”

Parsons’s eyes widened. “That’s awful. Is my team in danger? Am I?”

“I’m sure there isn’t anything for you or your team to worry about. But please do exercise extra precautions for the next few days until we can get to the bottom of all of this, okay?”

“That makes sense. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“And we’ve notified White Mountain Security here at ORNL and asked them to step up their game for a while, too. You know, just in case.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Parsons’s eyes turned to her keyboard.

Kang smiled. “Okay, we’re leaving now. For real.”

Parsons didn’t hear her.

Her mind was somewhere else.

—

Kang climbed in behind the wheel of their high-mileage, government-issued Crown Vic, one of the last in the FBI’s fleet. Silva rode shotgun.

“What do you make of Parsons?”

“Hard to read.” Silva chuckled. “But judging by the number of mutual consent forms she’s filed with HR over the last five years, I’d say she was one horny little professor.”

Kang turned the key. The eight cylinders coughed into life. She nudged the shifter into reverse and began pulling out. She started laughing so hard she had to hit the brake.

“What’s so funny?” Silva asked.

“‘Fuck buddies’? That’s pretty lame. I was waiting for her to start quoting lines from Friends .”

“I took her for a cold piece of fish, but you can’t always judge a book by its subtextual libido.”

Kang shifted into drive and hit the gas. “Let’s grab some breakfast. I’m starving.”

49

BARCELONA, SPAIN

Brossa woke from a short nap and padded into her kitchen. Her father, Ernesto, handed her a cup of black coffee from the espresso machine. He wore a green woolen sweater and beige chinos, neatly pressed. Every hair on his handsome silver head was in place and his beard closely trimmed. That was a good sign.

“Thank you, Papa.”

“You’re welcome.”

She took a sip. “So good.”

“I pushed a button. You look terrible, by the way.”

She pushed her matted hair out of her eyes. “A rough couple of days.”

“You never told me what happened on the raid.”

“It ended badly.”

“Violence always does.”

She kissed him on the cheek. She loved these rare moments of lucidity, when the father she grew up with appeared out of nowhere. Kind, literate, and thoughtful. He was a gentle soul. No wonder my mama was crazy about him .

He touched his face where she kissed him. “What was that for?”

“Does there have to be a reason?”

“Ex nihilo nihil fit” —Nothing comes from nothing.

That was an even better sign. He’d only been speaking Català for the last seven months.

“Come sit with me on the patio while I drink my coffee and regale me with your Latin witticisms.”

The old man smiled, the crow’s feet narrowing around his dancing eyes.

“Delighted.”

—

They sat on the patio overlooking the city. The sun glinted silver on the gray-blue Mediterranean.

Brossa laid back in her chaise lounge, her eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of a gentle sunshine.

Her father sat upright in a chair next to her, humming an old tune. She was still exhausted, but supremely happy. Perhaps he was turning a corner after all.

Peña was right, she decided. The Brigada case was closed. It was time to let go.

Her momentary bliss was shattered by the buzz of her silenced phone. Her eyes opened, painfully, as she reached for it.

“I hate those things,” her father said. “Let me throw it away.”

“It’s probably work.”

“I hate your work. I should throw that away, too.”

She smiled and shook her head. Somebody has to pay the bills around here . She could never say that to him, though. He was a proud man, and a good provider for his family while he could work.

“It will just be a moment.”

She saw the number. Part of her wanted to ignore the call. But part of her wanted to hear his voice. She didn’t know why.

“ Hola, Jack.”

“Hi. Sorry to bother you. I was hoping we could talk.”

“Sure. I have a few minutes.”

“I mean, I want to meet you somewhere.”

She glanced over at her father, who was staring at the distant sea, pretending not to listen. She lowered her voice.

“Why can’t we speak on the phone?”

“I’m not sure it’s safe.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. I checked at your office but they said you had left for the day.”

“I’m not feeling well.”

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

She sighed. She really wasn’t feeling well, and she didn’t want to leave her father. But Jack needed closure, too. It would be nice to be the one to deliver the good news in person.

“Okay, I’ll text you an address and I’ll see you there in thirty minutes.”

“Thanks.” He hung up.

“Who is Jack?” her father asked.

“An American.” She texted the address of a restaurant. “I’ve been trying to help him.” She hit the send key.

“What is his full name?”

“Jack Ryan.”

“Ryan?” His eyes widened. “You can’t trust this man.”

Brossa frowned. “Why not?”

Ernesto leaned over, wagging a finger.

“Because he is a spy!”

Brossa’s heart sank. So much for turning a corner. She sat up.

“And why do you think he is a spy?”

“Because I worked with him when he was in Brussels, at NATO headquarters. I was a translator there with the Spanish Defense Ministry.”

She patted his spotted hand. “I don’t think Jack was old enough to work with you in Brussels. In fact, he wasn’t even born yet.”

His face fell. “You don’t believe me?”

She stood, picking up her empty coffee cup. He rose on unsteady knees as well.

“Yes, of course I do. I believe you believe it. But perhaps it is just a coincidence of names.”

“Is he handsome?”

Brossa pursed her lips, thinking. She didn’t want to feed his fantasy. But she could never lie to her father. “Yes.”

“And is he young, about your age?”

“Yes.”

“And does he have blue eyes?”

How would he know that? Well, he couldn’t. It was just another crazy coincidence. She hated to confirm that fact to him because it would feed his dementia, convincing him he didn’t have it.

But a good daughter never lies to her father, does she?

“Yes, Jack does have blue eyes.”

“You see! It’s him! Un espía!” His eyes beamed with pride.

She touched a hand to his bearded face. She smiled outwardly, but inwardly wept with pity. “Thank you, Papa. That is good to know. I promise I will be very, very careful with this espía .”

“I have my pistol. I’ll get it for you.” He turned toward the house but she stopped him with a gentle tug on his elbow.

“No need. He isn’t dangerous. And besides, I carry my own, remember?”

“Of course I remember. I’m the one who taught you how to shoot when you were just a little girl.”

“And you taught me well. I won’t be gone long. Perhaps an hour, no more than two. I will call the nurse.”

“Nonsense! I have my fútbol . Barça plays Granada today. I’ll wait here by the television for you.”

She hugged him. He wrapped his long arms around her.