Christopher Reich - Rules of Betrayal

Connor lost his friendly tone. “We’ll get to that later,” he said, and for the first time Jonathan was aware that he was in the presence of a formidable individual. “Sit down, Dr. Ransom. I didn’t fly seven thousand miles to give you a handshake, a hug, and a kiss on the cheek for serving your country. We have some important issues to get through.”

Jonathan sat down. “Eight years wasn’t enough? I thought I’d served my time.”

“Believe me, we’re grateful for all you’ve done. Especially for your actions in Switzerland. No one more than me. If it’s worth anything, I’m sorry that we had to drag you back into this. I know you went to Afghanistan to get away from it all.”

“I went to Afghanistan to get back to doing what I do best.”

“From the little I heard about how you acted under fire, you might want to reconsider what that is.”

“I did what anyone would do.”

“Not everyone would carry a wounded soldier through a hail of gunfire at considerable risk to himself. They give medals for that kind of thing.”

“I don’t want a medal.”

“I know you don’t. I couldn’t give you one anyway. But so you know, Dr. Ransom, the man you led us to, Abdul Haq, was a first-class sonofabitch. We’d been trying to get at him for months without any luck. Drones. Informants. Rewards. Nothing worked. Then we got word he was sick and we saw our way in. You happened to be in that neck of the woods. You didn’t leave us much choice.”

“So that’s how it goes? I don’t get a say in the matter.”

“No, Dr. Ransom. Sometimes you don’t. Ain’t life a pile of shit?”

“And Hamid?”

“Hamid signed up. He grew up in Kabul, then emigrated to San Francisco. He joined the army to do some good for his country.”

“And that’s when you stepped in?”

“He possessed a unique skill set that was very much in demand. Hamid wanted us as badly as we wanted him. Afghanistan is a safer place without Mr. Abdul Haq.”

Jonathan put the mug to his lips and drank down the warm, sweet tea. He thought of Hamid dropping from his grasp. It might as easily have been him. “You know, I’ve been wondering about something. How was it that you guys found me all that time ago?”

“Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you.”

“Of course you know,” said Jonathan. “A guy like you knows everything.”

“Don’t count on it.”

Jonathan stifled a nasty rebuke. “And Emma? How’d you get your hooks into her?”

“I can’t tell you that either. ‘Need to know,’ Dr. Ransom. It’s the first rule of the game.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“Like I said, I can’t discuss your wife’s past or present.” Connor paused and set down his coffee. “At least, not yet.”

Jonathan felt something shift in the room, a change in the dynamic between them. If he weren’t mistaken, an offer had been made. “What does that mean?”

“It means I came to talk to you about helping us.”

“You mean Division?”

Connor nodded.

“You’re serious? You want me to work for you?”

“We think you have certain skills that can-”

“No,” said Jonathan.

“Just hear me out.”

“Absolutely not. I’m finished. Done. Over.”

“I’ve come an awfully long way-”

“Well, that’s awfully tough shit.” Jonathan shoved himself away from the table, knocking his chair over as he stood. “Now you can get in your plane and fly an awfully long way back. Goodbye.”

“Please, Dr. Ransom, I understand you’re upset. Just give me a-”

“I said I’m finished.”

Connor stared at Jonathan. “Fair enough,” he said. “It goes without saying that none of what happened in Tora Bora can ever be repeated. The intel boys aboard ship will give you some papers to sign. When you’re done, tell them where you want to go. They’ll make it happen. Ticket, passport, whatever you need. I’ve been authorized to pay you for your work. I’ve got a check for fourteen thousand dollars made out in your name. That’s two months’ hazardous duty pay at major’s rank.”

“Keep it,” said Jonathan.

“It’s yours. You earned it. If you want to give it to charity, that’s your business.”

Connor set an envelope on the table, then gathered up his papers and replaced them in his briefcase. Jonathan noticed that he hadn’t written a word. It was a show, just like the lousy suit, the scuffed-up shoes, and the Joe Sixpack delivery. He was the voice of America.

Connor stumbled as he rose to his feet and extended an uncertain hand for balance. Jonathan rushed around the table. “You okay?” he asked, grasping his arm for support.

“It’s the leg.” Connor waved him off. “I told you already. Lousy circulation.”

Jonathan took a better look at Connor, seeing him as a doctor would a patient. He took in the burst capillaries in his cheeks, the bags under the eyes, the air of dissipation. Up close, he could hear Connor’s breath, rapid and shallow. “Do you know where Emma is? Please. I just want to know if she’s all right.”

Connor lifted his satchel onto the desk. “What if I were to tell you that everything you currently know about your wife is false?”

Jonathan hesitated before answering, wondering if this was just another ploy to lure him in. “Like what? That she didn’t try to kill me in France?”

“Among other things.”

“I wouldn’t believe you,” said Jonathan, but his response was a reflex. There was something about Connor’s manner that bespoke honesty and earnestness. Or maybe it was something inside Jonathan. Maybe he just wanted to believe.

“And if I told you that Emma was in danger-possibly grave danger-and that you were the only person who could help her?”

Jonathan looked hard at Connor, trying to see past the artifice. He saw only a man who was fifty pounds overweight, with a bum leg and a heart condition, telling him the truth. “Sit down.”

“All right,” said Jonathan. “I’m listening.”

“The first thing you need to know is that Emma never stopped working for us. By us, I mean Division, and by Division, I mean the United States of America. There was a time after the events in Switzerland when she struck out on her own. Days-weeks, even. She was frightened that we’d seek retribution. I won’t lie. There were some in the organization who wanted their pound of flesh. On the surface, Emma had betrayed us, and they wanted her punished. I was not of that opinion. I knew that Emma had done us an immeasurable service, and after things cooled down, everyone else began to see it my way. In fact, I realized that not only had her actions prevented a catastrophe of unimaginable proportions, but they’d presented us with a unique opportunity. Emma and I communicated, and I convinced her that she could be of more use to us staying out in the cold.”

“But you tried to have her killed,” said Jonathan. “I saw the scar on her back. I read the hospital report in Rome. She almost died from loss of blood.”

“No, Dr. Ransom, she didn’t. A very fine surgeon like yourself cut her and sewed her back up. The rest was smoke and mirrors. It’s what we do.”

Jonathan resisted speaking. His mind had come alive with the events of the past July, when Emma had visited him in London and he’d witnessed her detonating a car bomb that had left several people dead and numerous more wounded. He knew he should be sifting through the steps he’d taken afterward to track her down, but he couldn’t get past the night they’d spent together at the Dorchester Hotel. The night before all hell had broken loose.

He had a vision of them making love on the floor of the hotel room. Emma was an active and passionate lover, but never before had she given herself to him so completely. Their hours together affirmed his love for his wife, and even deepened it. She’d risked all to be with him.