Chapter 12

The door clicked behind the three as they entered the large display hall. The pieces of history that usually sat in the exhibition area were gone, and piles of lumber, movable scaffolding, and construction equipment lay about on the floor. The large windows covered with plastic sheeting let in a diffused natural light. Clem carried the sniper rifle in a case and studied the catwalks for the perfect spot to place himself.

"I like this. Lots of light to see my target." He smiled. "I guess I better get up there."

Another door opened on the far side of the exhibition hall and Tom Card walked through it. It took everything in Sam to curb his desire to rip off the cuffs and tear into the man. As Card neared, the smug expression he usually wore magnified at the sight of Sam in handcuffs.

"Hello, Mr. Chin."

"Axe. Sam Axe." He replied without following through on wanting to spit at him.

"Right. Axe." Card grinned. He turned his attention toward Clem. "Snow, I want you on the catwalk, up there." He pointed to a space where the light shone in the brightest. He reached out and grabbed Sam's collar. "Sammy and I are going to stay down here and wait for Michael to show." He noticed the guy in the suit, studied him intently, and said, "You're not Haines."

"No sir. Mr. Haines fell ill today, and the agency put me in his place."

Card narrowed his eyes. "Nobody informed me."

"No, Sir. It was a last minute decision."

He pursed his lips, thinking. He heard a door latch release and light shone in from the open entrance door. Michael Westen was in shadow, but Card would know him anywhere. "Michael! Come in here." To Haines, he rasped, "Get out of the way, into the shadows."

"Yes, Sir." He backed off behind a pile of lumber and watched.

Card pushed Sam close to within a few inches of his front and right side. If Clem didn't shoot him, Card had the perfect vantage point to do it himself. He stood grinning, convinced that he had the upper hand. He savored every step Michael took as he approached.

The ex-spy looked as if he'd been on a deserted island for a week or so. Unruly and unshaven, wearing a t-shirt and jeans that had seen better days, he looked so undignified. It made Card giddy. Finally, he was taking down the best ops guy he ever trained, and to top it off, he looked like a bum, not a world-class spy.

Most mentors would look upon this as a failure, but Card felt the exact opposite. He was proud of Michael and his accomplishments, in awe at how he managed to figure out Anson, but he was also afraid of his creation. He'd become too good for his own good, and he had to be stopped. That was Card's job as his teacher to take him down, and he would succeed. Before all was said and done, he would be the only one walking out of the building alive. Card would make certain of that. Then he would have Jesse, Fiona, and Michael's dear mother wiped out, and he could start over fresh.

Michael stopped a few yards away and held up the file folders. "This is what you want, Tom. Please, let Sam go."

"How do I know you don't have copies that you've given to the CIA?"

"You have my word." Michael stared at him with an intent expression on his face. "You were my teacher, my mentor, my boss. I wouldn't lie to you."

As Michael spoke, Sam locked eyes with him and shifted his gaze to the catwalk. Michael nodded once, letting Sam know he understood that Clem was in his perch and ready to fire if necessary.

"You really think I'll turn over your friend and let you and everyone in your little sphere live? You know too much, Michael. While it really pains me to have to do this..."

Sam felt the barrel of a pistol brush the back of his shirt. He quickly turned as he broke out of his cuffs and grasped the wrist of the hand holding the gun. Card's eyes grew wide for a moment, but he quickly recovered and struggled against Sam's grip. Sam twisted his arm to get him to drop the weapon but he wouldn't let go. Card slammed a fist into the side of Sam's face, dazing him just enough to regain control of the gun. Sam came at him again, too quickly for Card to get off a shot. It went wild and the sound of glass breaking was drowned out by another shot.

Pain sliced through Sam's arm and he backed away from Card. Card aimed at him, but he never got a chance to fire. Michael pulled out his gun and got off two quick shots in succession, deep into Card's chest. Another came from the catwalk and sunk into Card's skull as he slowly crumpled to the floor.

As the roar of gunshots echoed off the walls, Sam crouched beside Card and checked for a pulse. "Mike, he's gone." Card's eyes stared a glassy dead man's glare toward the ceiling, no breath sounds coming from him. Blood stained the front of his expensive suit, but not much. Two bullets to the heart would do that, and the final shot from the cat walk secured the end Tom Card's miserable life.

Michael and Sam looked up from Card's body as Clem came from upstairs and trotted across the empty space. He was slightly out of breath when he met them.

"Jeez, Sam, I'm sorry I shot ya." Clem looked distressed as his eyes locked on the wound.

"It's okay, you just grazed me." He barely glanced at his arm and smirked at his friend. "What happened to the guy who won all the sharp shooting medals?"

"Guess my eyesight's not so good anymore. I'm getting' old, man!" Clem replied with a shrug. "No, seriously, you got closer to him just as I was pulling the trigger. It was too late to do anything else."

Sam shrugged. "It happens. Next time, let's hope I'm farther away from the target, okay?" He pulled up his sleeve and grimaced. "Aw, look at that! You sliced off part of my tattoo!"

"It'll make ya look tough, Axeman."

"Just shut up and get me something to stop this bleeding," Sam grumbled and pressed the palm of his hand over the long gash. From the looks of it, he might need stitches.

JoAnn approached with a case in her hand. "It's done," she said as she looked past Michael and Sam and spied Card's body on the floor. She let out a relieved breath. "It's about time. Clem, I brought a med kit along for Sam."

"Thanks." Clem took it from her, and he beckoned Sam to sit on a pile of lumber while he worked on his arm.

JoAnn turned her attention to Michael. "You must be Michael Westen. I've heard a lot about you but we've never met." She gave him a big smile and shook his hand. "You all did a great job. You aren't the only one who's gotten burned by Card, but you did them all a favor today."

"I would have preferred to take him alive," Michael responded.

She shook her head. "Trust me, that would have been more trouble than it was worth. This way, we can put a nice spin on his death, and the American public will never know that there was a traitor in the CIA. As an added plus, you saved the taxpayers a lot of money!" She shook his hand again and patted his arm. "If you want your job back, just let me know. We can talk about that."

Michael stared at her, uncomprehending. "Who are you?"

"Deputy Director JoAnn Packard, CIA. I wish I could tell you what was going on beyond Card and Anson, but it's like opening a really scary box full of demons. It's been contained, and we're all better off that way."

"Why were you on that plane pretending to be just an agent," Sam asked. "Ah, Clem, careful!" Clem cleaned his wound and wrapped it with field dressing he found in the small case that the deputy director brought with her. "Now I know why you never got your field medicine citation."

"I was too busy concentrating on learning how to shoot 'em, while you were patching 'em up."

Michael tuned out the good-natured bickering between Sam and Clem and focused on JoAnn. "Why would a deputy director get involved in this?"

"Like all of you, I wanted to be there when Card went down. That's all you need to know. But I couldn't be in this room, or he would have known that something wasn't right."

"So Card was the last of the bunch?"

"Yes. You either captured or killed the others. Congratulations, Michael. This'll earn you not only your job back, but a promotion too. You could easily be an ops leader." She smiled. "Take Card's position."

"Thanks, but no," Michael said with a smile. "I promised someone that I wouldn't do that kind of work any more. As a matter of fact, I'm giving you notice right now that I'm done with the agency."

JoAnn's mouth dropped open slightly. "After all the work you did, and the trouble and heartache, you want to quit?"

"Yeah. I've had enough of it. I'm sorry if that disappoints you, but that's the way it is."

JoAnn nodded. "Okay. Well, there are some forms involved. Not like we can sneeze in the CIA without paperwork," she quipped with a smile. "If you come to my office we'll get that squared away. I can call for a ride for Commander Axe to go to the Naval hospital, if you'd like."

"It's just a flesh wound. It'll be fine," Sam said. "My tattoo on the other hand... irreplaceable."

"Hey, I said I was sorry about that! Man, some people," Clem grumbled.

"Tell you what, you find a place that serves some good mojitos around here, and I'll forget all about it."

Clem laughed. "Believe it or not, I know just the place." He closed up the med kit and handed it to JoAnne. "Ma'am, here's your med kit back. If you don't need anything from us, we're going to go mend some fences." He smiled at her.

"Wait just a minute there, fellas." She stopped them in their tracks heading for the door. "First of all, I need that Browning back. Second, I need to debrief you guys. Then you can worry about finding a mojito, although your best bet is probably in Miami."

"Works for me. The sooner we get done, the sooner we're outta here," Clem replied.

"Terrific. Let's go." As the four left the building, a white paneled vehicle like an ambulance arrived in the loading area. Two men emerged wearing uniforms and hauled out a stretcher. "He's in there," she told them, and the men went to work collecting evidence, cleaning up the mess, and taking away Tom Card's lifeless shell.

Everyone got into the two waiting cars that took them to the CIA headquarters in Langley. Michael, Sam, and Clem followed JoAnn to her office and she showed Sam and Clem where they could clean up a little and wait until she called each of them. She wanted to talk to Michael first, since he was Card's star and wanted to leave the agency for good. Better to get the unpleasantries out of the way first. JoAnn led the way inside and gestured for him to take a seat on a couch tucked to the left of her desk.

"Want anything? Coffee, soda, water?" Once he was settled in with a bottle of water, she sat on the opposite end of the couch, tucked one leg up so she could better face him, and rested her arm on the seat back. "Michael, I hope this doesn't sound like I'm trying to keep you on because of all the time and money this agency invested in training you. The point is, this country has a gift in you, and it would be a waste of your talents if you quit."

Michael smiled. "Trust me, nothing will be wasted. I'll still do freelance work..."

"Oh good!" She smiled wide.

"Not for the CIA, though. I promised Fiona that we would settle down, no more of this intensely covert stuff for the government and not knowing who was on our side and who wasn't." He took a sip of water. "She wants life to be a little more normal. Unfortunately, I have no idea what that's like." He laughed, feeling the tension of the past six years melting away as he spoke. He became even more confident in his resolve to end his relationship with the CIA. "I'm willing to learn, though."

"Okay, I just had to give it another try." She got up and went to her desk, pulled some forms from a desk drawer, placed them in a file folder, and handed it to Michael. "Here you go. Why don't you work on these, and I'll talk to Sam and Clem about their involvement in this mission. By the time I'm done with them, you should have read through all those papers and signed them, I would think."

"Thanks. What, no nice pen with a really cool CIA logo on it?" He tapped the folder into the palm of his hand.

"Sorry." She handed him a mass-produced cheap pen. "Budget cuts, you know."

"Of course, save the tax dollars for the important stuff." Michael nodded in understanding. "Which one do you want first?"

"I'll worry about that when we get to the lounge." She smiled and leaned over, picked up his bottle from the coffee table. "Might as well take this with you."

"Thanks."

JoAnn escorted Michael to the lounge and looked at Clem. "Captain Snow, I'll talk to you first."

"Uh oh, don't let her beat it outta ya!" Sam teased as Clem got out of his seat beside Sam.

He leaned toward his friend and murmured, "I'll bet she has better ways of making a guy talk." He winked at Sam and turned to follow JoAnn to her office.

For her interview with Clem, JoAnn got behind her desk. She saw the looks that passed between Sam and his friend, and she had no doubt that he would try to charm her if she took a more intimate approach like she did with Michael. The woman had been in the job long enough to read people, and she knew this guy could be charming and playful, but he also could be sharp, to the point, and deadly.

"Clem. I want you to tell me, how did Card approach you?"

"It was the oddest thing. I received an invitation letter in the mail. I thought it was some kind of joke, but then I got a phone call from Card, and he was dead serious." Clem rested his elbows on the armrests and clasped his hands as he sat up straighter. He was in full business mode, it was obvious to her. "He sent a plane for me, a car and a driver. It was like he didn't give me much chance to say 'no'. He flew me to DC, and when he told me what my assignment would be, to kill Anson, I thought ok, great, get a really bad guy out of the way. I was cool with that."

"So you agreed to do the job. Was there any signature on paperwork, or did any money change hands?"

"He gave me a deposit of ten grand in cash. I was to get the rest when I finished the job." Clem cleared his throat.

JoAnne got up and went to her fridge. "Water?"

"That'd be great, thanks." She handed him the bottle and it reminded him of the plane. He smiled at her as he removed the cap. After taking a drink, he continued. "Okay, so I was told to be in Atlantic City, so I was there waiting. Then I got the call where to be and when, so I jumped into a cab and got my butt down there. But I was also told there was a change in plans. I was supposed to kill Anson and the guy who came out with him."

"Nate Westen."

"Yeah. Only I didn't know who he was. I asked Card for a name. He said I didn't need to know." He sighed deeply, dipped his head, and massaged his brow. He looked up at her again. "After it was over, I thought I was done and that I could go back to Panama and just be left alone. He wired me the rest of the money, and I thought that was it. I was done." He paused again. "It bothered me that I didn't know that guy's name, so I did some checking with some buddies, some connections I have in the agency. They told me he was Westen's brother, and that it was being looked at as an accident. Only I knew it was intentional. I shot it just the way Card wanted me to." He blinked and looked away out the windows. "I felt like crap about that. That guy didn't deserve to get killed."

"How did you wind up trying to kill Westen and his team?"

"About the time Mike and his friends arrived in Panama, Card called me. He said he wanted Westen and his team dead. He named them all this time, and I recognized Sam's name. I told him I wouldn't do it. Then he threatened my mom, and my sister back home... he had pictures of them on the farm, and he implied that they could have a farm implement accident and no one would know the truth." He bit his bottom lip to stifle the sound of him losing control of his emotions. The pain caused him to come back to his senses.

"Did he hurt them?"

"No. He didn't have a chance because I agreed to do it. I knew it was a mistake, but my mom and my sister, they're vulnerable, you know? My dad's been gone a few years." He pressed the back of his hand to his face and swiped it across to remove the perspiration that built up on his upper lip. Despite the air conditioning, remembering all the bad things made him sweat. "I kept hoping that I wouldn't find them and I wouldn't have to do the job, but that night I caught them walking in the dark to a safe place, I was bound and determined to do it, and live with the consequences later."

"What changed your mind?"

"Seeing Sam in my scope. I had a night vision scope, and you know how people look in one of those? It was like twenty five years had been shaved off, and I remembered our last mission together. I remembered him getting strafed by enemy bullets, lying in the street, chest bleeding through the vest because they used armor piercing rounds. He fought for every breath, and I felt so... so helpless while we fought the enemy off and prayed for the choppers to get there in time." He couldn't speak anymore, so Clem wrapped his hands around the bottle and stared down at it.

"So that memory came back and you couldn't complete the job?"

He looked up and met her eyes. "That's right. I was supposed to take out Sam, Jesse, and Fiona, but spare Michael, at least for a little while. Give him a minute to mourn over his fallen comrades." The smile on Clem's face was hardly an indication of happiness. It was a flag for the horrible guilt and regret he felt for being duped into helping Card.

"After that you allied with them."

"Yes." He told her how he met Sam and Fiona. "I decided that the only way I could ease my conscience was to help them, and prevent anyone else from doing the job I'd been hired to do."

"Didn't Card suspect you'd turned to their side?"

"I don't know. I didn't have any contact with him, but that night, after I failed to complete my mission, someone tried to poison me. So he obviously had eyes on the ground watching." He took a drink of water. "After that, I was even more determined to help Westen. If Card wanted him dead that bad, I knew there had to be something right about him."

"I think you can console yourself with the fact that if you hadn't done what you did, Westen's team wouldn't have been able to take Card. And you were instrumental in that takedown. Don't forget that." JoAnn fiddled with some files on her desk, pulled out one, and said, "This is your file, Clem. I understand that you were with the CIA but you quit after an unfortunate incident."

"Ma'am, I'd really rather not talk about that." Clem had to talk around the lump that felt like a huge marble in his throat.

JoAnn sighed and nodded. She understood his reticence. "After this, if you'd like to return, I can help make that happen. Everything that happened on this assignment, even what Card ordered you to do, will be considered part of the mission and sealed. There will be no negative repercussions."

"If I say 'no'?"

"We'll have to do an investigation to see whether the money that Card paid you came from his own accounts or if he skimmed it from government sources."

"So you're saying if I give up all that money, and I decide to not join the CIA again, I'll be let off scot free?" He raised an eyebrow.

She smiled at his craftiness. "Yes, as long as you can retrieve all the funds that Card paid you, the government will not pursue this matter any further." She paused and closed his file after writing a note inside. "However, if the investigation determines that the money was Card's personal funds, it'll be returned to you."

Clem sat back in his chair and looked deep in thought. He drained his bottle, leaned forward, and said, "You know what? You keep it. It's all blood money anyway, and I never felt good about it being in my bank account to begin with. I get a decent enough compensation from the government pursuant to my rank, so I don't need it anyway. Thanks, Deputy Director Packard."

"You're welcome, Captain Snow. I think we're done here. Would you please send Sam in?"

"Sure." Clem got out of the seat and for the first time in a long time, his soul felt lighter. But he was still unsettled. What would he do now? As much as he liked Panama, he wasn't sure he wanted to go back. He had no one there, and while it was nice for awhile to get away from everyone he knew and try to escape the issues from his past, working with a team again reminded him how he'd isolated himself and that it wasn't good.

"Am I next," Sam asked when he spied Clem standing in front of him.

"Yep. Have a ball, Axeman."

"Gee, thanks." Sam dropped the magazine he was reading and went to the deputy director's office. He gave her virtually the same information that Clem did, only from the perspective of his team.

"Thank you, Sam. You can send Michael back in."

"That's it? No tightening the screws?" He grinned at her.

"No. Although, I do need that wire back." She held out her hand and made a motion for him to give it up.

"Oh yeah, funny I forgot all about that." He stood and unbuttoned his shirt and pulled up the undershirt to expose his bare skin. "Oh brother, this is gonna hurt."

"I suppose you want me to help you." She stood and came around her desk.

"Uh, yeah." This wasn't going exactly the way he envisioned when they were in the car. "Just be gentle... but make it fast."

JoAnn found the end of the wire, grasped it in her fingers, and pulled fast and hard. Sam screamed as pieces of hair went with the tape. A few seconds later, he rubbed the denuded areas, let down his undershirt and buttoned himself up again. His breathing settled down, and he spoke softly. "Thanks."

"No problem. Sorry it hurt so much." She grimaced, feeling bad for him.

"Ah, just a hazard of the job. That's why I'm not fond of wires." He pressed a hand to his chest and turned toward the door. "I'll get Mike for you."

He entered the waiting area and found two pairs of eyes staring at him. Clem got up and met him in the door. "Sam, are you okay? What'd she do to you?"

"I'm fine. She, uh, helped me get the wire off," Sam replied, and his face fell as he realized that he did scream pretty loud. "Wait. You heard that out here?"

"Yeah. We were worried about you," Clem replied.

Sam flushed in embarrassment and changed the subject. "Mike, she wants to see you now."

"Good luck, man," Clem said as he leafed through a magazine.

"Thanks, but I don't have anything on me that I need the director to rip off," he said with a laugh. "I'm just giving her these papers, and then we'll be done."

"Great. I don't know about you guys, but I could go for a beer or something before we blow out of town," Clem said.

"Yeah, I've got a lot of pain to deal with here, you know?" Sam patted his chest where the wire had been and glanced at his arm. To Clem he said, "And besides, you owe me at least one mojito, pal."

A small smile creased Michael's face. "I'll try not to be too long."