Brett Battles - Shadow of Betrayal

“It’s all in service of the plan, Mr. Rose,” Chairman Kidd said. “I think there is only one little matter left to take care of.”

“Wh … what?” Mr. Rose asked.

“Mr. Hardwick will fill you in.” Almost before the last word was spoken, the call was disconnected.

Hardwick glanced at the television. There was a handheld shot from a street where dozens of people were running. In the background, smoke was rising in the air. The graphic at the bottom of the screen identified the location as Morro Bay, California. In the text scroll beneath that, this information:

SCHOOL VISIT BY G8 SPOUSES DISRUPTED PRIOR TO THEIR ARRIVAL ON

THE CAMPUS • NO CASUALTIES YET REPORTED • CHAOS IN STREETS IN

MORRO BAY • SCHOOL VISIT BY G8 SPOUSES…

Hardwick looked over at Mr. Rose and saw that the old man was watching the television, too.

“I don’t think we could have asked for a better result,” Hardwick said, smiling.

Mr. Rose looked at Hardwick, then at the useless phone he seemed to realize he was still holding. When he threw it, it wasn’t a surprise. Hardwick was already moving toward him, the phone missing him by several inches and slamming harmlessly into the cushion on the couch.

Mr. Rose, though, displayed a surprising amount of speed. He was already moving toward the bedroom the moment the phone left his hand. Hardwick sprinted after him, getting to the door just before it closed all the way.

He shoved it open, knocking the older man back. Mr. Rose had one hand on the bed to keep from falling.

“The council knew you wouldn’t take this well,” Hardwick said. “And they just can’t afford having you cause them any other problems. I’m sure you understand.”

Hardwick pulled his Beretta out from the holster under his jacket.

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” Mr. Rose said.

From a pocket in the jacket, Hardwick methodically removed his suppressor and attached it to the barrel of the gun. When he was done, he pointed it at Mr. Rose.

“Now everything is nice and clean. This operation of yours will be attributed to a small terrorist cell working out of Eastern Europe. G8 summit. Economic terrorists. Wouldn’t be the first time. You, of course, will be branded the ringleader. The cool thing, though, is that in the process of carrying out your little terrorist plot, you were forced to kill several members of the U.S. government who just happened to be enemies of the LP. In fact, turns out they were the ones who wanted to take us down the most. Lucky us.”

Mr. Rose said nothing.

“And the best part?” Hardwick said. “Those who aren’t dead think we were trying to help them stop your threat. It puts us in a most… useful position. Again, thanks.”

“Fuck off,” Mr. Rose said, then dove toward the pile of clothes next to the bathroom.

Hardwick had been expecting the move. His first bullet caught Mr. Rose in the left shoulder, the second in the right hip. The man fell to the floor several feet short of the clothes pile that almost, but not quite, covered up the pistol that was beneath it.

Hardwick knelt down beside the old man. Mr. Rose drew in several rapid breaths, but he showed no fear, only anger.

“Don’t worry,” Hardwick said. “Your body won’t be here for long. I planted enough evidence to lead investigators to this room before the end of the day. Which means I should probably be on my way.”

“Someday this will happen to you,” Mr. Rose said, teeth clenched. “Someday they won’t want you anymore.”

“I don’t doubt it. But not today,” Hardwick said, then stood back up. “Today, you’re the one not wanted.”

He pulled the trigger one last time.

Once he was back in his car and on the road, he called the Chairman.

“It’s done,” he said.

“Excellent.”

“Have you heard anything concrete about Morro Bay?” Hardwick asked.

“Two car bombs went off, but nothing else. It looks like your friend Quinn was able to minimize the damage. I still wonder if maybe we should have let the operation succeed.”

“No,” Hardwick said. “This was perfect. If the targets had been eliminated, the focus would have been on finding the people behind the attack and exacting revenge. But now the focus will be more on prevention, more tightening of security. Paranoia, that’s the key.”

“You’re right, of course,” Chairman Kidd said. “Excellent work, James. I believe it’s now time for that vacation.”

“Yes,” Hardwick said. “It is.”

He smiled to himself. Nothing was better than a job well done.

CHAPTER

43

MARION CAME RUNNING OUT OF THE MOTEL THEminute she saw them pull into the parking lot. She’d been watching the news for over an hour, trying to see if she could spot Iris in the group of children being ferried away from the school. Reportedly they were taking them to a nearby medical facility as a precaution.

The reporter had said none of the children had been harmed. Marion had let out a prayer of thanks when she heard that. But where was Iris?

Quinn jumped out of the car before they were even parked.

“Back in the room,” he said to Marion.

“Why?” she asked.

He walked quickly up to her. “Because we don’t want to draw any attention.”

“Iris?” she asked.

“Inside, okay?”

As she turned to do as he said, she heard a familiar voice behind her call out.

“Goah.”

She whipped around. Nate had just emerged out of the back seat. In his arms was the one thing Marion wanted to see more than anything.

“Goah,” the girl said, smiling at Marion.

Marion rushed over and took Iris in her arms.

“Goah,” Iris repeated.

“Yes,” Marion said. “Goah. Goah.”

In Marion’s room, Quinn gave her an edited version of what had happened. There was no reason to let her know how close the girl had come to dying. If Marion sensed he was holding back, she didn’t say anything. She seemed content just to hold Iris and kiss the girl’s cheeks.

“We need to get her to a doctor,” Quinn told her.

“What? Why?” Marion said, scanning the child. “Is she hurt?”

“The implant,” Quinn said. “She needs to get it out.”

Marion touched the spot where the implant had been inserted. “Right. Of course.”

“I know a place in L.A. Very discreet. And once they’re done, we’ll get you home.”

A dark look crossed Marion’s face.

“Don’t worry,” Orlando said. “We’ll make sure the papers you have for her will hold up. Iris will be yours now and always.”

“It’s not that,” Marion said. “I’m just not sure where home is now.”

In the wake of the Morro Bay attack, and the subsequent washing up on a beach in Virginia of another high-ranking CIA official—this one named Chercover—the Office was disbanded. But as much as the FBI wanted to pin the bombings and murders on the negligence of Peter and his people, they couldn’t.

Quinn didn’t want to care. He was going to be through with the Office after this job anyway. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a sense of loss. No matter how annoying Peter was, the Office had, for the most part, done some decent work.

Now there was a void waiting to be filled.

The last conversation he’d had with Peter had been short.

“I’ll make sure your money is transferred before we close our accounts,” Peter had said.

Quinn frowned. It didn’t feel right to be paid to stop the murders of dozens of children, let alone the others who would have died at the school. But he realized there was something he could do with his fee. Marion. He’d deposit it in her account. Of course, the amount would shock her, so he’d have to send her a note first so that she didn’t do something stupid like tell the bank they’d made a mistake.