Takedown

CHAPTER 24

It’s quite simple, Alex. Your father sent me.

The phrase echoed through her head as they drove, Gérard steadfastly refusing to expand on the comment until they reached their destination.

It’s quite simple, Alex.

But there wasn’t anything simple about it at all, was there? The four words that followed had frozen her where she sat and she knew she didn’t dare push him, didn’t dare threaten him, didn’t dare do anything that might make him decide to drop it right there and not explain.

Your father sent me.

The last time she had heard from her father had been shortly after the op in Crimea. She had hoped to meet with him at a London pub, but he had left her a note instead, along with a pair of tickets to a Baltimore Orioles game. She and her brother Danny had gone to the stadium, but she’d found it hard to concentrate on the game, her eyes constantly drifting toward the stands, wondering if her father was out there somewhere.

It didn’t help when Danny suddenly looked up and said, “Dad?”

“What about him?”

“Dad here?”

His gaze was fixed on the stands across the field, but even if their father was out there, there was no way Danny could see him from that distance. Still, her heart began to pound as she raised her binoculars and studied the crowd.

But she saw nothing. No sign of the colonel. Or Raven. Or whatever you wanted to call him. No sign of the man who had tucked them in bed at night in that long ago fairyland that had once been their lives.

“Dad like baseball,” Danny said.

She lowered the binoculars. “Yes, he does. He likes it very much.”

“Dad not here.”

“No, but he wants us to be. He wants us to know he still loves us.”

Danny got quiet after that, withdrawing into himself as he often did. Alex rubbed his back and watched the game and wished, not for the first time in her life, that she could wipe away his pain.

The note accompanying the baseball tickets had been her father’s last communication.

But it wasn’t enough. Both she and Danny needed more. Much more.

And maybe Thomas Gérard was about to fulfill that need.

It’s quite simple, Alex.

Your father sent me.

They rode to the leeward side of the island, far away from the fabricated fantasy of the Hotel St. Cajetan and the city surrounding it, and found a table at an unassuming outdoor cafe with a view of the ocean. Gérard ordered them coffee and when the waiter was gone, he said, “You must have a million different questions for me right now.”

“I’m trying to be patient.”

“Then I’ll warn you that I don’t have the answers to them all. Very few, in fact.” He smiled apologetically. “I’m sure you’ve deduced by now that I’m not a real estate broker.”

“And I’ll bet your name isn’t Thomas Gérard, either.”

“That isn’t important. All that matters is that I’m a friend of your father and—”

“He has friends?”

“More than you might think. Quite a network of them after all these years. People who have never believed a man like him would betray his own government.”

Alex studied him. “And how do you know him?”

“I was once VSSE, Belgian State Security. Now I work as a facilitator for ex-patriots who’ve run afoul of their governments. I arrange false identities and secure the proper travel credentials. All off the books, of course.”

“And you’ve been helping him.”

“For many years now. He usually contacts me when he needs something done that he can’t do himself. Which is why I’m here.”

“Why do you get to have all the fun? Why hasn’t he contacted me?”

“For your own protection. And Danny’s.”

“You’ll have to explain that.”

The waiter came with the coffee and set their cups in front of them. When he was gone, Gérard said, “Your father has made a number of enemies as well. People who might decide that you or Danny could provide them with leverage against him. But if those enemies believe you aren’t important to him, they’re likely to leave you alone.”

“So his answer to the problem is to abandon us?”

“Not abandon. Distance. He’s always had someone keeping watch over you. And he left you the beach house so you’d be more secure financially.”

Alex huffed. “Because money’s so important to us. What about how we feel?”

“The colonel felt your safety was worth the trade-off.”

“Pardon me if I disagree.”

“He knows he hurt you, Alex. He isn’t proud of that fact. But he felt he had no choice. The people who set him up are as ruthless as they are thorough. And they wouldn’t just threaten to kill you in exchange for his cooperation. They would happily strap you or your brother to a table and torture you for weeks on end. And Danny’s…innocence would mean nothing to them.”

“What the hell has he gotten himself into?” she asked.

“I think you can probably answer that question yourself.”

She had certainly wondered about it enough times. She remembered the change in him after her mother was killed, but she’d been too busy dealing with her own grief to fully appreciate his. He had seemed so stoic at the time, but she knew now he must have been hurting deeply, and that hurt had been part of why he had withdrawn in those later days. And why he had so suddenly disappeared.

He was looking for her mother’s killers. What else could it be?

But what had he done that caused him to be branded a traitor? That was a question she had asked herself at least a thousand times in the last decade. Was it something as simple as stealing and sharing classified intelligence about the incident?

Or had our own government been involved?

After the way the op in Istanbul went down, she had to wonder.

Had the people who set off the bomb in that Lebanon cafe been working for us?

And, if so, why?

She looked at Gérard. “How much do you know about my mother’s murder?”

“Only what your father has told me. Which is very little. He’s very much a lone wolf, and he shares only what he feels he needs to.”

“Are you the one who planted those photos in my storage shed?”

Gérard’s eyelids flickered. “Photos? What photos?”

She was surprised he didn’t know. “I told you, someone broke into the house. I think whoever it was left behind some photos of my mother, hoping I’d find them. That’s why I was so upset when I came to the bar that night. Right before you and your friend played your prank on the beach.”

Gérard looked embarrassed. “That was foolish of me. A misguided attempt to gain your trust.”

“It got you a lot more than that, didn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean for it to go that far. But you must admit there’s a chemistry between us. We both feel it.”

He reached to take her hand, but she pulled it away. “You think far too much of yourself, Thomas. A moment of lust doesn’t qualify as anything more than that. And I frankly wish it hadn’t happened. Especially now.”

“I’m sorry to hear you say that.”

“And I’m sorry you’re disappointed, but what do you expect? You’re a professional liar. You lied to insinuate yourself into my life and you help others lie about who they are. My father may be a good man, but he’s the exception, isn’t he? Most of the people you help deserve to be locked up.”

He started to say something but she cut him off.

“Don’t. I don’t want to hear any excuses or rationalizations. You are what you are. But explain to me — why the real estate ruse? Why not come to me directly and tell me my father sent you?”

“The ruse was his idea,” Gérard said.

“Why?”

He hesitated. “Because of your involvement with Stonewell.”

“What’s that got to do with any of this?”

“Surely you know that Stonewell has been after the colonel for years. They almost caught him in France shortly before they recruited you. And it’s the recruitment that concerns him.”

“Why does that matter?”

“Because Stonewell isn’t to be trusted. While he was buoyed by your contact with El-Hashim and your close encounter in London, he held back when he realized you had been followed. And he can’t be certain of how much animosity you might harbor toward him.”

Alex was taken aback. “He doesn’t trust me?”

“The colonel doesn’t trust anyone completely. Not even me.”

Alex felt as if she’d been stabbed in the heart. She had risked her life to find her father and he still didn’t trust her? But her rational mind understood his reasoning. She had every right to hate him, and he had no way of knowing her real motive for joining Stonewell. For all he knew, she was plotting to help capture him.

“He wanted me to approach you carefully,” Gérard said, “and he thought the offer to buy the house would be a way in.”

“So he’s your mysterious client.”

Gérard nodded.

“Do you know where he is now?”

“No. He’s constantly on the move. We communicate through encrypted text messages only, and I haven’t heard from him in several days.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t plant those photographs?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What about my mother’s wedding video? Do you know anything about that?”

He spread his hands. “I’m afraid I’m at a loss.”

Strange, she thought. Then who had left them? And why?

“What does all this have to do with Eric Hopcroft?” she asked. “It can’t be a coincidence you contacted me only a few days before McElroy showed up.”

“A man once said that chance is the nickname of providence.”

“Skip the bullshit and just tell me.”

Gérard smiled. “One of your father’s government contacts alerted him about the call between Favreau and Reinhard Beck. And when Stonewell was mentioned in connection to a possible recovery effort, he correctly deduced that because of your connection to Eric Hopcroft, they would involve you somehow.”

“How could he know that?”

“He wasn’t sure, of course, but he once worked with the man who initiated this mission and knows how he operates.”

“And who is this guy?”

Gérard shook his head. “I don’t know his real name, but people call him Mr. Gray. But that isn’t important. All that matters is that your father was correct and you’re here at the right place and time.”

“For what?”

“To do what he’s been trying to do for the last several years.”

“And that is?”

Gérard pinned her with his gaze. “Kill Eric Hopcroft.”

Alex wasn’t sure what made her do it.

Maybe it was instinct, or the fury returning, or the simple audacity of the words themselves. But before she could stop herself, she lunged across the table and knocked Gérard backward in his chair, sending coffee cups flying as she planted him on the ground.

The next thing she knew, hands were grabbing at her — Gérard’s thugs jerking her away from him.

“Who the hell are you?” she spat as Gérard climbed to his feet. “My father would never send me a message like that.”

Gérard calmly straightened his clothes and hair. “You know him so well, do you?”

Another stab to the heart. “I know that much. He’s not that kind of man.”

Gérard turned, and saw other patrons and the waitstaff staring at him and Alex in dismay. He seemed genuinely embarrassed and quickly produced several bills from his wallet, offering them to their waiter and pouring on the charm. “I’m so sorry about this. Please forgive us.” He gestured to his men. “Let her go.”

As they released her, Alex felt foolish for the outburst, but only because of the attention it had drawn.

Gérard waved his men toward the street. “You and Hugo return her car.”

“Are you sure?” the one from the beach said.

“Yes, I’m certain. Go.” Once they’d left, Gérard looked at Alex. “Why don’t we discuss this on the drive back to the hotel?”

“I’ll catch a cab,” she said. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

“I know you don’t think much of me right now, but I’m not lying to you. Not this time.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“I can prove it,” he said.

“How?”

“Ride with me to the hotel and I’ll tell you.”

She hesitated. The truth was, she didn’t want proof. Why would she? It would mean she really didn’t know her father. Didn’t know him at all. That in the years he’d been missing, he had become some hardened mercenary she wouldn’t recognize. And even though she could understand such a transformation — she had gone through it herself to some degree — she didn’t want to believe her mother’s death had turned him into someone like that.

But she didn’t say no. She nodded, then followed Gérard to the car, and they got in front this time, Thomas climbing behind the wheel.

After they were back on the highway and had driven in silence for a while, he said, “You remember the last night you saw your father?”

She turned. “Of course I do.”

“He was in his study, and he’d had a lot to drink.” He glanced over at her and then back at the road. “You found him on the floor, leaning up against his desk, photographs of you and Danny and your mother in his lap.”

Alex was astonished. “How could you know that?”

“Because he told me. He said when you helped him up, he told you he loved you, then began to recite some lines from a poem. One your mother was fond of.”

Alex’s throat constricted and she felt tears welling. “Stop.”

“‘But ere he vanished from her view/He waved to her a last adieu/Then onward hastily he steered/And in the forest disa—’”

“Stop,” she said. “I believe you, all right?”

“It was his way of saying goodbye.”

“And this is your way of torturing me.” She couldn’t deny it now. Nobody could have known about that night but her father and her. “Just tell me why. Why would he ask me to kill Uncle Eric? Why would he ask his own daughter to kill a man he once called his best friend?”

Gérard looked at her again. “Because Hopcroft isn’t the friend your father thought he was.”

“Then what is he?”

“The man who killed your mother.”