The Blue Zone

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

“Kate!”

She had just come home from work. Greg was at some two-day medical conference for the new job. She had stopped at the cleaners on Second Avenue. She had just put the key in the door to her building’s lobby.

Kate turned, anxious, expecting to see her father. For the past few days, she’d been afraid he’d be waiting for her around every corner.

Instead she was staring at Phil Cavetti.

“Don’t you guys ever just call?” Kate exhaled, not knowing whether to feel anxious or relieved.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he answered, coming up with an apologetic smile. “You mind if we talk?”

“Everything’s fine, Cavetti. I meant to write, but things have just been a little too hectic lately. I don’t need the protection anymore.”

He nodded with his chin. “I meant upstairs.”

Kate had not forgotten for a minute how they’d used her. How they’d broken into her apartment and tapped her phones. How they’d hidden everything from her-her father’s disappearance, pretending to be protecting her-when all along it was Mercado they were protecting, his secrets. Now Kate understood they were hiding a whole lot more.

In the elevator Cavetti looked at her arm and asked how she was doing.

“Better,” Kate replied, softer. She gave him a bit of a smile, realizing she’d been abrupt. “Really. Thanks.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t exactly look so much better.”

Kate knew that it had all been taking a toll on her. She knew she looked a little puffy and drawn. She hadn’t been eating so well since she’d spoken with her father. Or sleeping. She still couldn’t row. Once or twice she’d forgotten to give herself her insulin. Her blood levels were the most elevated they’d been in years.

“Don’t feel obliged to continue with the compliments,” Kate said. “They’re not working.”

The elevator opened on seven. “You remember the place, don’t you, Cavetti? You remember Fergus?” Kate opened the door, and the dog came up and sniffed Cavetti. The WITSEC agent nodded guiltily at the jab.

“He’s been alone all day, so I’ve got about a minute before he takes it out on the rug. You wanted to talk?”

“I was just up in Buffalo,” he said.

Kate nodded as if impressed. “I know the job can be dull, but at least you get to travel to strange and exciting places.” She sat back on the arm of the couch. Cavetti didn’t sit down.

“A woman was killed there,” he said awkwardly. “I was called up to take a look.”

Kate snorted. “What, no pictures this time?”

“Kate, listen, please.” He took a step toward her. “She wasn’t just killed. The palms of her hands were burned black. Someone held them over a gas flame until the skin basically sheared away from her hands. This was a fifty-year-old woman, Kate.”

“I’m sorry.” Kate stared at him. “But why are you here? Are you going to tell me my father did that, too?”

“Two FBI men, a deputy marshal guarding her, and an innocent bystander were murdered as well.”

Kate flinched. A pain knifed through the pit of her stomach. She was sorry.

“Kate, I need to ask you something, and you have to be truthful with me, whatever you may think. When was the last time you spoke with him, Kate?”

She looked down. It all scared her. She knew she should tell him. The photo of Mercado and her dad. The old man in the park. Her father’s call from the other day…Five more people were dead. The longer she hid it, the more she was part of it. She was afraid that Cavetti could see right through her and it would all come tumbling out.

“Kate, the woman had her palms burned off. First the one. Then the other. By that time she’d probably already passed out from the pain. Then they put a bullet in her head.”

“It’s not him.”

“This was to get her to talk,” Cavetti went on. “Just like in Chicago. Three more of my men are dead. Your father’s looking for someone. This isn’t about protecting him any longer.”

“Then what the hell is it about?” Kate glared up at him. I know about Mercado, she wanted to say. I know you’ve been protecting him all along. What do you want with my father?

“Have you heard from him, Kate? Do you know where he is?”

“No.”

“I need you to tell me, Kate, in spite of what you may feel toward WITSEC-or me. I know I haven’t been entirely truthful, but I only wanted one thing when it came to you-as I do now-and that is your absolute safety. I’ll put my life on the line for that. If you’re holding back, you’re getting yourself deeper into something you won’t be able to control.”

He was right. She was putting herself right in the middle of it. Five more people were dead. But what was she supposed to do, meet him and have her father dragged away in cuffs?

Kate looked at him closely. “I can’t help you.” She shook her head.

The WITSEC agent nodded. She knew he was unconvinced. He reached into his jacket pocket and came out with a folded piece of paper.

Another photograph.

“I knew you couldn’t help yourself, Cavetti.”

“What I’m about to show you, only a handful of people have ever seen.” The way the photo was folded, only half of it was visible. “I want you to look closely and tell me, have you ever seen this man before?”

He handed it to her. Kate’s hand trembled as she took it. As she looked, her heart crawled up into her throat.

It was the man in the park. Oscar Mercado. The weathered beard, the flat tweed cap. As if the picture were taken just the other day.

A jolt rippled through her. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into, just that it was getting deeper. And she no longer knew who was telling the truth.

Her eyes found Cavetti’s. “No.”

The WITSEC agent nodded with a skeptical sigh. Kate handed back the photo. He looked at her as though her lie were written all over her face.

“You’re a smart gal, Kate, but now I need you to be smarter than you’ve ever been in your life and level with me. Are you sure?”

“Who is he?”

“No one.” Cavetti shrugged. “Just a face.” Maybe if he told her, she could do the same. This was his chance to come clean, too.

She shook her head again. “No.”

“As long as I’m breaking new ground”-the agent smoothed his salt-and-pepper hair-“I’m going to do something else I’ve never done before.” This time he reached into his side pocket and came out with a solid object wrapped in a white handkerchief.

Kate’s heart slowed.

“It’s untraceable,” Cavetti said. “If it ever comes out I gave this to you, I’ll deny it. It can’t be tied to me. Put it in a drawer. You may need it. That’s all I can say. There’s a safety latch on the side. You push it off. You understand?”

Kate nodded, suddenly realizing what he was saying to her. Cavetti stood up and left the wrapped object lying on the chair.

“Like I told you, Kate, what I’m trying to do here is for your own protection.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, and met his eyes with a tight but appreciative smile.

Cavetti stepped toward the door. Kate stood up. All of a sudden, whatever anger and distrust she felt for him disappeared. Tell him, Kate.

“Who was she?” Kate asked. “The woman in Buffalo.”

Cavetti reached into his jacket. He took out the photo again. This time he unfolded the side that had been hidden.

Next to the man in the flat golf cap was a smiling, warm-faced, middle-aged woman, a white Lab sitting at her knees.

Kate stood still, staring at the photo.

Cavetti shrugged, stuffing it back into his pocket as he opened the door. “Just someone’s wife.”