Lost Girls

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Gant sat next to Neeley in the back of the MC-13 °Combat Talon as it flew east. Bailey was on the satellite radio, talking with Ms. Masterson and Nero back in the Cellar, debriefing the mission. Across the way, Colonel Masterson sat with his daughter’s head resting on his thigh as she slept with the unconsciousness of sheer exhaustion. Next to them, Golden held her son tight in her arms. The medic on the plane said the drug he had been given would wear off in the next few hours.

“Well,” Neeley said.

Gant glanced at her. “That was a good shot.”

“If I’d missed—“

“I’d be dead. Along with the boy. And Finley. I trusted you to make it.”

“A lot of dead people,” Neeley noted.

“Yep.”

Gant noted that Neeley seemed troubled. “You don’t know Masterson very well, do you?”

Neeley shook her head. “No.”

“I’ve known Nero many years and worked for him,” Gant said.

They rode in silence for a while. “Well?” Neeley finally said, putting enough twist on it to let Gant know she was asking him.

And he knew what she was asking. He leaned close to her, not that those across the way could hear above the rumble of the engines. “I think Nero knew what was going on from the beginning. And so did Masterson. I think they had a very good idea when Jimmy Golden was snatched that it wasn’t a child molester or random. And then when everything started to happen, they called us to follow because they wanted this whole thing to blow up. They not only wanted the targets — Finley and the SF team. They wanted the CIA guys and the others cleaned out.

“And it worked,” Gant continued. “A lot of bad people who betrayed people are dead.”

“And some innocents.”

“Yes.” Gant took a deep breath. “But that wasn’t our fault and it wasn’t the Cellar’s fault. Nero and Masterson probably knew something stank to high heaven down south over what happened to Finley and the SF team. You had the Director of Operations and the Chief of Direct Action for the CIA involved, for God’s sake. That’s pretty fucking high level. So they let this whole thing play out to get to the truth. I agree with what they did. It was the only way in a world that’s pretty dirty and dark.”

“At least we got Emily and Jimmy back,” Neeley said.

“At least,” Gant agreed. He paused.

“What?” Neeley asked.

“I wonder if we’re going to be asked to take out Colonel Cranston,” Gant finally said with a glance across the plane. “The original plan was that he was to be sanctioned.”

“Hannah isn’t Nero,” Neeley noted.

Gant shrugged. “No, I suppose she isn’t.”

Bailey came walking over. “Where do you guys want to be dropped off?”

“West Virginia,” Neeley said without hesitation.

“Pritchard’s?” Bailey asked Gant. “Oh wait.” He grabbed his stainless steel briefcase. “This was sent to you.” He opened it and pulled out a cigar case. Gant smiled as he recognized the case he’d given Goodwine what seemed like ages ago. He took it and unscrewed the metal end. A cigar slid out. Gant realized it was a fine Cuban and he nodded. The Gullah had their own contacts with the smugglers who worked the coast. A piece of paper was wrapped around it.

Gant read the words: Mus tek cyear a de root fa heal de tree.

He looked up at Bailey. “Where’s my brother buried?”

“His cabin in Vermont.”

“I want to go there.” Then he turned to Neeley. “And then ask Jesse if it’s ok if I come for a visit? I’d like to see her. And Bobbie.”

Neeley smiled. “I’d be glad to.”