Blood Trust

THIRTY-THREE

“SHE’S REMARKABLE, you know.”

Annika, sitting next to Jack on the ferry from Vlorë to Brindisi, on the eastern coast of Italy, looked over to where Alli was talking animatedly with Edon and Liridona. The first thing they needed to do when they reached Italy was to go clothes shopping.

Jack was dog-tired, and he ached all over. He wondered whether he had a fever. He’d lost his antibiotics somewhere during their strange and bloody odyssey. It would be good to get home.

“Is that what you meant to say?” His voice was soft.

Annika glanced at him for a moment. “I feel … I don’t know, I feel close to her.”

“She feels the same way toward you.”

This brought the ghost of a smile to Annika’s face. “I must get back to my grandfather.”

“Surely he has people taking care of him.”

She nodded. “Very good people.”

“Then come back to D.C. with us.”

Her eyes looked inward. “Maybe,” she murmured, as if to herself, “if only for a little while.”

Now it was Jack’s turn to look at the three girls across the companionway. “I saw you talking with Liridona.”

Annika was silent for a moment. The ferry rocked slightly from side to side. The great diesel engines vibrated through the decks.

“She told me the secret that cost Arjeta her life, and almost cost her hers. Arjeta had been in the compound in Vlorë. Apparently, it wasn’t Arian Xhafa’s compound. It belonged to the Syrian.”

“The man Alli encountered at the safehouse and then again in the street.”

Annika nodded. “The Syrian had a woman with him in the compound.”

“A mistress?”

“Possibly, but from what I’ve heard about the Syrian I doubt it. No, this woman is a computer prodigy. She handles all of the Syrian’s international transactions.”

“A computer whiz.”

“A first-class hacker.”

Jack shook his head. “Okay, but why would the Syrian consider her a secret worth killing for?”

“Because,” Annika said, “her name is Caroline Carson.”

GUNN SAT in his car, smoking a cigarette. He was parked in the lot of a sleazy motel off a highway in suburban Maryland. From what he could see during the forty minutes he’d been parked, the motel was a trysting place for traveling salesmen and account executives getting their rocks off with someone else’s secretary. Every once in a while a delivery would be made to one of the rooms. When that happened Gunn got out of the car and followed the delivery boy to see if he’d been summoned to room 261.

Gunn, following John Pawnhill like a bloodhound, had seen him make his escape and was briefly impressed. He’d seen him get picked up by a man Gunn didn’t recognize. He had followed them out here to this motel with its blinking neon sign, buzzing fluorescent lights, and a soda machine that didn’t work. The sound of passing traffic was a roar as relentless as the surf.

At 10:52, a white car with the logo of a nearby Chinese restaurant pulled into the parking lot. Once again, Gunn removed himself from his car and, stretching, strode after the young man. He delivered two large paper bags to room 261. Gunn saw a glimpse of Pawnhill’s driver as he took possession of the food and handed over some money. He screwed the suppressor back onto his Glock. The delivery man went down the stairs, got into his car, and drove away.

Gunn walked up to the door of room 261 and knocked.

“Who is it?” a voice came from the other side of the door.

“You didn’t give me enough money,” Gunn said in a passable simulation of the delivery man’s voice.

The door opened a crack, Gunn shoved his Glock through it, and shot the driver squarely in the forehead. As the driver’s body arched backward, Gunn kicked in the door and strode inside. Pawnhill threw a white cardboard container of food at Gunn. Gunn dodged away, aimed, and shot Pawnhill twice in the chest. Pawnhill crumpled. Gunn walked up to him and, for good measure, put two more bullets into him. Then he turned and left.

THE NIGHT is a time for memories, Vera thought as she lay on her bed in Fearington. She remembered her childhood, when she and Caro shared a room. Of course, they each had sumptuously decorated bedrooms, but she and Caro had insisted on being together at night. She remembered how Caro used to read to her from her favorite book, The Little Curiosity Shop, stories about a fabulous old store in London’s World’s End, crammed to the rafters with magical wonders. She sat up suddenly and, swinging her legs over the side, stared at the bed across from her. Alli Carson’s bed. It was empty now, of course. Who knew where Alli was, or if she was still alive? Vera glanced over at the foot of the bed, and then, because she couldn’t help herself, she stared at the neatly tucked-in sheet, she stared at the pillow with its black case imprinted with white skulls. Strange fucking girl, but, oddly, she missed her. Maybe she missed hating her.

She lay back down, but knew right away that sleep was on some other continent. So she did what she always did when she couldn’t sleep—went to her desk, turned on the task lamp, and fired up her laptop. She was going to open her Web browser when she noticed a new folder on her desktop. It was titled “curio_cabinet.”

She felt a little thrill go through her. There had been a curio cabinet in The Little Curiosity Shop where all the most magical items were kept under lock and key. She scanned the folder with her security software, but it was clean. Also, it was encrypted. Every time she tried to open it, she was asked for a password. She thought for a moment, then typed in “TLCS.” That didn’t work. Then she thought of the curio cabinet itself. Of all the special items in it, the most magical to her was the book that opened a doorway to the Land of the Fayries. What was the name of that book? She screwed up her face in concentration. Ah, yes.

She typed in “Maeve’s World.”

Wham, she was inside the folder. Her heart beat faster. Could this mean what it seemed to mean? Then her heart sank. The folder contained only one minuscule file. But still … She opened the file and read:

HEY THERE, SIS. HOWZ TRICKS?

JACK COULD see the stars. They looked close enough to reach out and touch. The military jet Paull had had waiting for them in Brindisi was taking them all home.

Alli came and sat next to him. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a train.” He laughed softly. “Several trains, actually.”

She hesitated only a moment. “I wanted to thank you.”

He turned to her.

“You believed in me.”

“Annika believed in you.”

“You had faith in me, Jack. I never got that from my parents.” She frowned. “I suppose you think there’s something wrong with me because I haven’t grieved for them.”

“You grieved plenty for your father.”

She looked thoughtful. “Maybe I did.”

“And as for your mother.” He shrugged. “Perhaps that will come in time.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then it doesn’t.”

She was silent for some time. Then she took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Every doctor who examines me tells me there’s something wrong with me.” Her eyes cut to his. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Of course he did. He’d been told the same thing when he was young.

“But sometimes I feel…” She turned her head away. “I feel as if I’m numb inside, as if I’ll never feel anything deeply again.”

Jack took her hand. “You know that’s not true.”

Tears trembled at the corners of her eyes. “I wish to God I did.”

Jack desperately wanted to help her, but in this instance he knew he needed to be patient, especially because right now she couldn’t be.

At that moment, Annika came by.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

Jack glanced at Alli and shook his head.

Alli leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “See you later.” Then she stood up and walked with Annika to another set of seats, where they sat down together.

For a time, Jack tried to think about nothing at all, but his brain, working out the last of the conspiracy, wouldn’t rest. Then his cell phone buzzed and he caught the call from Alan Fraine, the D.C. Metro Police chief.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Fraine’s voice sounded thin and far away. “Pawnhill got away.”

Jack stared into the blackness of the night. “What happened?”

“We tracked him to Billy Warren’s apartment. He apparently found a DVD, but it was in a booby-trapped attaché case. The DVD was almost entirely dissolved by acid. Nothing usable was left.”

Jack thought a moment. “Billy must have stashed the incriminating data he’d found on Middle Bay’s servers. That’s why he was tortured and then killed.”

“So it was Pawnhill, not Dardan Xhafa, who did it.”

“Pawnhill hired McKinsey, who was nursing a grudge against Billy,” Jack said.

“Your boss, Dennis Paull, ordered all of Middle Bay’s files, records, and computer data confiscated even before he landed, but so far he tells me there’s no sign of incriminating evidence.”

“And there won’t be,” Jack said. “Pawnhill has had unlimited access to the bank’s data for the past week. He’s sure to have deleted it all.”

Fraine sighed. “Probably. But Paull claims he’s got some first-rate techs in data recovery. They may find something Pawnhill overlooked.”

Jack saw no reason to say what was on his mind. He didn’t think Mbreti had left even a single kilobyte to find.

“Well, one good thing,” Jack said. “You can get Heroe out of custody.”

“Really? How’s that?”

“Now that the data’s gone, there’s no longer a need for a cover-up.”

“I’m not so sure it will be that easy.”

“Chief, she’ll be sprung the moment you make the request, trust me.”

There was a slight pause, then Fraine said, “Do you know who’s behind the cover-up?”

“I have a good idea.”

“Then you’re going to need some help when you get home. These people play at the highest level.”

“I appreciate the offer, Chief. But go take care of your own. I’m better off handling this myself.”

“I owe you one, Jack. If ever you need me…”

“Yeah.” Jack laughed. “I know where to find you.”

“BREATHE,” ANNIKA said. “Breathe, darling.”

Alli shivered. “I … I don’t know how I’m going to live like this.”

“Like what?”

“Not feeling.”

Annika shook her head. “I’m not at all sure I follow. If you don’t feel anything why did you risk your life to save Liridona?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Why isn’t it the same?”

Alli was trembling uncontrollably now, tears running down her cheeks. And then she sobbed. “I miss Emma so much.”

Annika enfolded her, kissed both her cheeks. “I know.”

“No, you don’t know. I—”

“But I do know, Alli. If I were to lose Jack…”

She let her words trail off and Alli stiffened in her arms.

“You love him,” Alli whispered.

“Yes.”

Alli collapsed against her. “Then you do know.”

“I know your heart is broken.”

Alli buried her face in the crook of Annika’s shoulder. “You won’t tell Jack.”

“Of course not, darling. You will.”

Alli pulled away from her. “But I can’t.”

Annika smiled. “But you must. Don’t you see that the secret is a barrier between you. Telling him will bring the two of you closer. Besides, this is your authentic self. Embrace it.”

Alli wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “What if he doesn’t understand?”

“Jack?” Annika appeared deeply amused. “Dear God, girl, you must be joking.”

DENNIS PAULL met them when they landed in D.C. just shy of six hours later. While he was arranging for Edon and Liridona to enter the States, Henry Holt Carson showed up. That was a surprise, but one that Jack welcomed. Carson was at the heart of the conspiracy, Jack knew that much. It was the why that needed confirmation.

He approached Alli, but when he tried to put his arm around her, she shrugged it off her.

He was looking at his niece, but he addressed Jack. “You kept her safe from harm, I see.”

“She kept herself safe from harm.”

Now Carson did look at Jack. “I’ll never forgive you.”

“For taking Alli away,” Jack said.

“He didn’t take me away.” Alli’s tone was indignant. “He saved me from being arrested.”

“You wouldn’t have been arrested,” Carson said. “I would have seen to that.”

“I’m not in your control,” Alli said. “I’m an adult. I make my own decisions.”

Carson shook his head. “This is what you did to her.”

“Mr. Carson,” Jack said slowly and deliberately, “you’re hardly in a position to lecture anyone on parenting skills.”

All the blood drained from Carson’s face and his hands curled into fists. “You’ll regret saying that, McClure.”

Jack took a step toward him. “I’ve had it with your threats and your bullying. I know you’re behind all of this.”

“All of what?”

“Everything that’s happened.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“On the contrary,” Annika said, appearing as if out of nowhere, “he knows precisely what he’s talking about.”

“You!” Carson goggled at her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You don’t give a shit about your niece,” Annika said. “What you can’t forgive Jack for is meddling in your little scheme.”

“And I would’ve gotten away with it,” Carson snapped. He turned to Jack. “Your meddling cost me everything.”

“You’re the one who hired John Pawnhill,” Jack pointed out. “And Pawnhill was working with the Syrian, bringing over Xhafa’s girls and selling them at the Stem.”

This seemed to surprise Carson. He was silent for some time. He looked deflated. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, all the belligerence drained from it. “I was just trying to do the right thing.” He glanced away for a moment. “Just after Eddy was elected, I learned of a plot to assassinate him. The man behind the plot was the Syrian.

“In the absence of more information on the attempt itself, I decided that the best course of action was to go after the Syrian’s infrastructure. Someone at my bank suggested we look at other, smaller banks, to see if the Syrian was using them to move money around. I knew that if we could intervene there, we could shut down his financial system.

“I was directed to a company called Safe Banking Systems, because their antiterrorist software is the best in the business. They identified Middle Bay, but couldn’t get any farther because no one knows the Syrian’s real name or his aliases, so he isn’t on any PEP list. Then Eddy was killed and I was devastated. Directly after Arlen was sworn in, I went to him and told him about the plot. Together, we decided to go after the Syrian. I decided to buy Middle Bay. This way, I could find out just how the Syrian was using the bank, and once I knew that, I could control him.”

“So Crawford intervened and fast-tracked the buyout through the regulatory process.”

Carson nodded. “Time was of the essence.” His shoulders slumped. “But somehow the Syrian got wind of what I was doing. Pawnhill has a rep for being the best international forensic accountant in the business, but he must be working for the Syrian. Pawnhill destroyed all the records of the Syrian’s accounts and transactions.”

“Maybe not all. Billy Warren stumbled across the transactions and made copies.”

Paull frowned. “Pawnhill found his copy and destroyed it.”

“I think our clever little Billy made more than one copy.” Jack turned to Alli. “Remember when I asked you about Billy you said he was a closet neo-Luddite?”

Alli nodded. “Sure. He thought computer data was too insecure. He said, ‘Give me a pen and a sheet of paper any day.’”

Jack nodded. “That’s why I think he stashed a hard copy of the Syrian’s account data.”

JACK WENT through Billy Warren’s apartment more or less as John Pawnhill had done earlier, except he knew what he was looking for. Alli, Annika, Carson, and Paull watched him, Carson still with a fair degree of skepticism.

At length, Jack returned to the living room and looked more closely at everything. Then he went to the lacquer cabinet that held the books, stereo, CDs, and the like, and took down the first of the two large albums. This one held photos of Billy’s life. After paging through it to the end, Jack put it back and took out the second. Writing on a page.

Jack calmed his mind, gradually stopped the spinning of the whirlpool, reducing it to lines of text. Haltingly at first, then more easily, he read the title page of Billy’s graduate school thesis. The first ten pages were more difficult because there were twenty-two lines of type filling each page. Jack skimmed, struggling.

Then he turned to the eleventh page. It was totally different, and so were the next fifty pages. Pages and pages of numbers, six columns to a page. These were the Syrian’s account transactions from Middle Bay Bancorp.

Jack looked up and handed the album to Carson. “I believe this belongs to you.”