Second to the last chapter. I may post the next chapter tonight, just to have it all up. :) (see profile for other possible notes)
Gray didn't move for a moment. Then he said, "So you're putting me in a different position? That's a little dangerous, isn't it?" He stirred, sitting up on the table, groaning in pain.
Jason hesitated, shocked at his own actions. Then he grasped Gray's hand. To his surprise, he didn't feel revulsion at the touch. He felt…empathy toward the man that he had never felt before. He knew what it felt like to be tortured, barely able to move because of pain. Yes, Gray had been the cause of Jason's, and yes, there were still vestiges of the old hatred, but not the hard burning darkness from before, that Jason had hardly realized had been slowly overtaking him, twisting everything good that it touched.
"Can you stand?" said Jason.
"I—I'm not sure," said Gray, his usual self-assured voice shaken. "Why? What are you going to do to me next?"
"I'm not going to do anything to you. I'm going to let you go."
Gray looked at him for a second, his expression blank, as if he didn't quite comprehend what Jason was saying.
"Here. I'll help you out." He grasped Gray's arm, and helped him off of the table. Gray faltered as soon as his feet hit the floor; Jason kept him from falling as he tried to support himself on one leg.
"So you're really letting me go," said Gray. "I must have broken your mind. What you're doing…doesn't make any sense."
Jason gave a short laugh. "I have to agree with you there. But I'm doing it anyway."
"Why?"
Jason hesitated. He knew the kind of reaction he'd get. "Because….I forgive you, Gray."
Gray laughed. "You are crazy. Your so-called faith has stripped all reason from your mind. In any case, I don't think Sierra's going to let me go that easily."
Sierra's voice filtered down into the cellar. "How's it going?" she asked. "What—" she stopped short on the top of the stairs. "What are you doing?!"
"I'm….letting him go."
"What do you mean—letting him go?"
"I don't think we're going to get information this way. I don't think we should, either."
"So you're back to that again." She descended the stairs. "I know it's not part of your normal principles, but your town is in danger, and so is the woman you love. This man's–comfort is not worth their lives. You know it isn't."
"Of course I want to save them. But this is not the way."
"Well then. I still have a job to do, you know. I'm going to have to put him back where he was." She stepped toward Gray, who was leaning against the table, keeping the weight off of his injured leg. Gray backed away, but he couldn't outmaneuver Sierra. She grabbed his arm. But he lashed out with his other fist, caught her across the jaw.
"Don't you dare touch me again." She ripped out her pistol, and slammed it across his mouth. He stumbled to the cement floor. Then, she kicked him in the side, again and again, savage force behind every kick. Gray tried to curl up, unable to defend himself.
Jason knew where Sierra's rage was coming from—a place deep inside that had never healed, born from the horrors she'd grown up in. Even so, Jason couldn't let her do this. Not if he was going to follow through with what he had begun. He grasped Sierra's arm, trying to pull her away. She yanked her arm out of his grasp. He pulled again, harder—he didn't want to hurt her.
She whirled on him. "What? You want to save this creature?"
Jason stepped between her and Gray. "I won't let you hurt him."
Her eyes narrowed into dark slivers. "So be it." She smashed her pistol into Jason's skull.
Pain burst across his vision. He saw the ground rush up at him, glimpsed Sierra's boots, standing in blood. Then, once again, blackness consumed him.
J
"Hello," said Will.
"Hello," said Whit.
"The bomb is set to go off by this time tomorrow. Maybe sooner."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You never know. This may be the last time I call, so you'd better make the most of it. Are you going to give me Zephyr?" Whit glanced at Eugene, who was ramming the force of Zephyr against the defenses of Will's phone. He was leaning over the computer, typing faster than Whit thought humanly possible, his face thin, drawn, dark circles under his eyes from staying up all night, learning Zephyr's labyrinth of applications inside out.
"I…might be willing to make a deal," said Whit. He had to keep Will talking as long as possible.
"What kind of deal?"
"If you will defuse the bombs, I would like to talk with a representative of yours. I assume one is in town?"
"Well, I could agree to that, though I'd rather deal with you over the phone. And I'm not sure what it would accomplish—unless you are trying to stall for some reason."
"I would just rather speak face-to-face. And if you defuse the bombs, I would have a certain program to offer of my own."
"So you are the one that has it. I was wondering whether you'd given it to someone else for safekeeping, or kept it yourself. I wouldn't trust something like that to anyone else either."
"It doesn't belong to anyone—I'm just the one our team voted to keep it."
"Of course. But this could work…Let me see. I will have to call my employee—if you would excuse me."
Whit looked at Eugene to see if he'd broken through. Eugene held up a hand, thumb and forefinger marking a quarter of an inch, and mouthed, 'Almost.'
"Wait," said Whit, hoping his voice hadn't sounded too frantic. "How do I know you'll hold up your end of the deal?"
"You don't. You'll just have to trust me."
"But—I need a guarantee of some sort, or this will be in vain."
"Oh, very well. My employee will bring the bomb when you meet, and show that it's been deactivated."
"What about the others? The ones that aren't timed?"
"That's enough, Whit. I'm not going to bend over backwards for you. I want what you have in my hands before I grant you any more favors."
This man really is an egomaniac, thought Whit. He looked at Eugene. Eugene was still typing furiously.
"Where shall we meet?" asked Whit.
"How about the courthouse steps. One hour.
"Remember, if you double cross me, I may not leave much of the town left. How would you like that on your conscience?" He hung up.
Whit stood up, walked over to Eugene. Touched his shoulder. "Do you…have it?"
Eugene sat back with an exhausted sigh. "I do." He looked up, a tired smile spreading across his face.
Whit leaned forward, looked at the code. Embedded in it were the answers, what they had been waiting for all this time. Will's GPS location. His texts. His contact lists. But most of all, his identity. Eugene scrolled down, and showed Whit a name in the text. Joseph Lang. If his contact lists were any indicator, it was former Senator Joseph Lang. Whit only knew about him as a proponent of a bill Whit had opposed; he had a vague recollection of blond hair and beard scattered with gray, a pleasant face and somewhat nervous demeanor. He certainly didn't look the part of a potential dictator.
Whit sat back down. He could hardly get this through his head. They had the data that would bring Will down. "We should make copies of that," said Whit.
"I'm on it," said Eugene.
Eugene had done so much over the past long hours; Whit knew he should take over, but he was unable to move at the moment. He was still in shock.
And they might have Will's identity, but it wasn't over. They needed to contact the proper authorities. Even then, it might not be enough time to find and defuse the bomb.
"I'll call my contacts at the Agency," said Whit. "They'll be glad to hear about this, and they won't be too concerned by the fact we got this by…questionable means."
Whit dialed the NSA, and told them that he'd send the data ASAP, which Eugene did. Then he waited for an hour—an eternity—before the Agency got back to him and told him that they were on their way to pick up Will. Senator Lang.
Whit knew he should feel joyful—he did, but it was a guarded joy. This was not over. And he could not fully celebrate until Jason had returned home, and everyone was finally safe.