Chapter 21:
Final Directive
Staten Island, New York
Two weeks before Drexler bombing
Today, he was Daniel Taft.
Driving the rented BMW along the tree-lined, residential streets of Joseph Langdon's Staten Island neighborhood, where late-May sunshine had tempted the suburban families out of their lovely homes and onto their perfectly-manicured lawns, Will Traveler slipped into the identity of the stone-cold Hometown operative his handler had trained him to be. Sixteen hours ago he had received an urgent text message from Joseph that he was to report to the Langdon household immediately. With graduation and the start of the cross-country road trip fifteen days away, Will knew exactly what this meet was about.
He was, at last, going to receive his final directive.
Time to find out what he had spent the last two years of his life working to accomplish. Time to find out what he had to do to his roommates in order to escape the crazy, dangerous world of Hometown for good.
Face-to-face meets with Joseph had been rare over the last two years, as they always were during a mission. Undercover operatives needed to stay focused on their assumed identities; switching back and forth between reality and fantasy created confusion, opened up opportunities for agents to make mistakes that could tip off a mark that they weren't who they were pretending to be. Not to mention that, especially in a situation like Will's, finding excuses to disappear for days at a time was a tricky business – the fewer lies one had to tell, the easier it was to maintain and protect a cover. So Will knew Joseph wouldn't call for him unless it was important.
He also knew that Joseph wouldn't want to face him unless it was absolutely necessary, because ever since Darian's death, Joseph had scrupulously avoided any close contact with his operative. Deep down, Will was certain that Joseph knew the truth – Will had known that Darian was onto what her father really did, and he had lied to Joseph and to the Partners about her knowledge in order to protect her. That Will would do what Joseph should have done for his daughter had to goad the older man's guilt. Will understood that for Joseph, he was now a reminder of the worst betrayal of the other man's life.
Not that Will actually cared about Joseph's guilt. So far as he was concerned, Joseph deserved whatever suffering he endured for allowing the Partners to kill his own child. Nevertheless, acting "normally" – that was, like Daniel Taft, the loyal, capable, unquestioning operative Will was supposed to be – around Joseph was further complicated by the strain Darian's death had placed on their relationship. In addition to hiding the fact that he had already gone rogue and fully intended to go even further off the reservation before the operation was complete, Will now also had to feign a respect and liking for Joseph that had once come naturally.
Wheels within wheels…
Parking the car in the Langdons' driveway, Will couldn't help noting how similar this cool, bright spring day was to the summer afternoon two years ago when he had arrived at Joseph and Sela's, fresh from Paris and his Miami operation, to lobby for the New Haven assignment. Hard to believe that he was the same young man. Everything had changed for Will since then: He had come to know true love, true friendship, true loss and true loyalty. It made his head spin just to think about how different he had been that not-so-long-ago day, finding it the most normal thing in the world to ease out of one identity and into the next without ever giving a second thought to who he really was, or what he really wanted, or how he might really have been affecting other people's lives – innocent people's lives – with his work. Will hadn't just grown up in the last two years; he had become an entirely new person.
He was Will Traveler now.
Luckily for Will, and by extension for Maya, Jay and Tyler, Will was still entirely capable of pretending to be Daniel Taft.
In dark Seven jeans, a ribbed black sweater and the expensive leather jacket Tyler had given him the Christmas before last, with his sandy hair artfully mussed, a Rolex circling his wrist and his Coach satchel slung over his shoulder, Will looked the part of the ladder-climbing operative he was meant to be. He reminded himself that from the moment he entered the Langdon house, he would be under surveillance – Joseph's, as well as Hometown's, thanks to the cameras in Joseph's study, where their meeting would undoubtedly take place. Therefore he had to do more than look the part; for the next several hours, he had to be Daniel Taft again.
Forget Maya. Forget Jay and Tyler. Forget his father. Forget Will Traveler.
Ready…
Set…
Go…
Sela answered the door wearing a white cook's apron over jeans and a red tee-shirt. "Daniel!" she cried, folding him in a warm, motherly hug just inside the entryway. "My God, it's been forever. You look…"
She stepped back, her dark eyes shining with more than she could say, and held Will at arm's length for a second to study him. When her gaze met his, Will was convinced that somehow, someway, Sela knew that he had taken her advice – that he was getting himself out.
"You look so handsome," she concluded, her smile genuine if a little sad underneath. Will understood the complex emotions. Badly as he wanted out of this life, he hated all he had to give up in order to escape. Sela and Sam were part of what would be left behind.
"And you look beautiful, as always," Will rejoined lightly. He followed Sela down the hall to her domain, the kitchen, where pots and pans bubbled and boiled on the stove. The air was rich with aromas of chocolate and caramel, enough to make his stomach growl. "What're you working on this time?"
"Fortieth class reunion at one of the local high schools," Sela reported. She hurried to the stove, stirring a pot that was giving off a mouth-watering scent of vanilla and sugar. "Apparently, the whole class has a serious sweet tooth, because they ordered an entire menu of deserts. No salad, no appetizers, no main course. Just coffee and desert."
Will settled in at his usual spot, the island in the center of the kitchen. Despite all of the tragedy that had befallen here in the Langdon home, despite all that he now knew about what sort of man Joseph was, he had to admit that he still felt remarkably safe and comfortable in this room. Watching Sela move about in her graceful, self-assured way, listening to her prattle on a hundred miles an hour about the strange tastes of her customers, he couldn't deny that part of him still thought of the Langdons as family.
But he couldn't afford to think like that, not now. Joseph was not his father; he was the enemy. If Will slipped today, if he gave even the slightest indication that he was incapable of or unwilling to fulfill his final directive, well, Joseph would put him in the ground without hesitation.
So much for loyalty.
"Joseph should be home any minute now," Sela assured Will. She poured him a tall glass of milk and cut him a thick slice of a decadent-looking chocolate cake he had been eyeing since entering the kitchen. "He works so much these days, he's hardly ever home anymore."
Will understood. Regardless of how warm and welcoming the Langdon home was, he could feel the specter of Darian hovering over his shoulder. Everywhere he looked he saw a reminder of her: the set of wine glasses hanging above the sink, missing a piece because Darian had broken one in the dishwater on Daniel's first night in the house, slicing open her index finger deep enough to require three stitches in the ER; the empty hook by the backdoor where her coat and bag used to hang, tossed so carelessly in her hurry to retreat to her room that she often spilled pens and pencils across the hardwood floor; the white vase atop the refrigerator, a little cracked on one side, that she had made in ninth-grade art class for Sela on Mother's Day. He could only imagine how Joseph would feel, surrounded by this evidence of his daughter's life and death.
Neither Will nor Sela mentioned Darian, however, the subject being both too dangerous and too painful for them. Instead, Will asked after Sam and received a glowing rendition of the young man's accomplishments. It seemed Sam was thriving in spite of the loss his family had suffered; always smart and athletic, he was the top of his class and the captain of his football team. He had his eye on Harvard, like his father, Sela was explaining when the front door opened.
"Anybody down here?" Joseph's cheery voice boomed from the hallway.
"No," Sela sang out playfully. "No one's home, dear."
"Well, that's a shame. Here I thought I might find my beautiful wife waiting for me."
Stepping up in the doorway, Joseph looked directly at Will. His smile never faltered. If Will had ever doubted how well-trained his handler was, that greeting proved to him that Joseph was probably one of the most accomplished agents he would ever encounter: His expression, his tone, gave away nothing except pure delight to see an old friend after a long separation.
"Daniel." Joseph shook hands with Will as he rose from the bar stool. He nodded at the empty plate and cup on the marble-topped island. "I see Sela's feeding you well."
"She knows my weakness – chocolate," Will replied, matching Joseph's smooth, cheerful demeanor. "You better watch out, Joseph, or I just might steal this one from you."
"My mother always said the way to a man's heart was through his stomach." Sela paused in her work to accept a quick, loving kiss from her husband. "And whenever you two finish talking business, I promise to have something a little more substantial than cake for dinner."
Joseph looked to Will. "Can you stay?"
The silent message passed between them: You're not to stay, that's an order.
Apparently, Joseph had no more desire than Will to continue their little charade of friendly bliss a moment longer than was necessary. Besides, once the final directive was delivered, Will wanted to be gone from the Langdons as soon as possible so he could contact both Fog and, if possible, Maya to let them know what was coming.
"I don't think so," Will replied, lacing his voice with regret. "I've got to be getting back. But I will take some of that cake for the road, if you've got left-overs," he added to Sela.
Her eyes met his behind Joseph's back. "Whatever I can do to make the trip a little easier," she chirped.
Only Will read the real message behind her innocuous comment: Whatever I can do to speed you on your way out of this nightmare, by all means, let me do it.
Will was definitely going to miss Sela Langdon. He hoped life would be kinder to her in the future than it had been up to this point; she was a good person, and she deserved some peace.
Joseph led the way down the hall, yet when Will started to turn toward his office, Joseph shook his head. "It's such a nice day," he remarked, nodding toward the sunlight spilling through the living room windows. "Why don't we go for a walk while we discuss our business?"
A walk. Joseph wanted to take a walk – a walk away from the cameras and microphones in his office. A walk out in the open, where they could only be observed from a significant distance, if at all.
Unease settled in the pit of Will's stomach. Did Joseph have something to say to him that he didn't want Hometown to hear? And if so, what impact might that something have on Will's plans?
Are they on to me? Did he bring me here to warn me?
Since he had no choice but to agree, Will shoved his concerns aside and followed Joseph out into the sunshine. The day was clear and cloudless, a promise of summer hanging in the air, although the breeze ruffling the newly-budded trees made Will glad of his jacket. Joseph made small talk about Sam's football team while they slowly strolled down the sidewalk, past children playing in yards and fathers heating up backyard grills. Will feigned polite interest – he was interested in Sam normally, but today, he just wanted Joseph to get to the point.
"So, Will," Joseph said at last, his tone shifting subtly into the register Will recognized as all business. "I spoke to Director Freed yesterday, and he's instructed me to give you your final directive."
Outwardly, Will offered no reaction to this revelation. Inwardly, though, he felt his heart rate speed up and his stomach clench. Try as he might, he couldn't totally overcome the tension – and he suddenly wondered if this was why Joseph had wanted him away from the cameras, because he knew that the news he had to deliver was going to penetrate Will's defenses.
Was Joseph protecting him from Hometown's watchful eyes, helping him escape by making it easier for Will to fool the Partners into believing he was still on their side?
Like Carlton Fog, Joseph Langdon was largely a mystery to Will. At one time he had thought of Joseph as a father; at one time he had believed with his heart and soul that Joseph cared for him, that he would look out for him. Since Darian's death, Will had realized how naïve such a belief had been. Yet if his mission in New Haven had taught Will anything, it was that doing what one had to do didn't always reflect how one really felt about the players involved. It was possible, he supposed, that Joseph's paternal affection for him had not all been a ruse, not only another means of ensuring Will's loyalty to the program, and that if Joseph suspected his operative wanted out, he would try to save him in whatever small ways he could without endangering himself or his family.
Much as he would have liked to believe that, though, Will wasn't about to stake his life – or Maya's or his roommates' – on Joseph's goodwill. Thus he answered evenly, with the smug swagger characteristic of Daniel Taft, "Whatever it is, I'm ready for it."
Joseph nodded. "I'm sure you are, Will. Your work in this matter has been above reproach. The Partners are beyond impressed. In fact," he went on, smiling slyly at his operative, "Director Freed would like for you to come to Washington once things settle down, for a private meeting to discuss your future with the program."
Strange, how that offer could now serve to make Will somewhat sick to his stomach, whereas two years ago, Daniel Taft would have been over the moon at such news. Aware of the role he was still playing, Will affected a close approximation of the joy he was expected to feel by recalling how deliriously happy he had been after first making love to Maya.
"Seriously?" His ear-to-ear grin earned an answering smile from Joseph, who nodded. "That's…Wow. I'm just-I'm just so…Thank you, Joseph, for this opportunity."
Joseph raised a hand to wave off the gratitude. "Don't thank me, Will. You're the one who has made this all possible."
Not exactly, you two-faced, back-stabbing son of a bitch – I seem to remember a little memo from you to Director Freed about recruiting me after you set my father up to be killed…
"I couldn't have gotten this far without you, Joseph." Will hoped the double entendre in his words would not be wholly lost on Joseph, though the other man had no way of knowing that Will was aware of the circumstances surrounding his recruitment into Hometown. "You believed in me. When I asked for this mission, I know you had your doubts, but you gave me the chance. I'm just glad I've been able to make you proud."
And when this is all over, I hope the Partners decide you're responsible for my defection and put your head on a pike as a warning to other handlers – or better yet, I hope they slit your wrists and dump you in a tub of hot water to bleed out, like Darian…
Holding so much rage inside without allowing one iota of it to show was more than difficult for Will, but he managed. Joseph continued to grin, blithely unaware of the murderous thoughts rampaging through his operative's mind. Will knew, however, that had he been in Joseph's study for this conversation, with cameras rolling that could measure his heartbeat and blood pressure, the jig would have been up at once.
Intentionally or not, Joseph had saved Will's life by opting to have this conversation outside.
What Joseph didn't know, what Will was taking an even greater risk than was strictly necessary by doing, was that the cameras and microphones in Joseph's study were not the only recording devices on the quiet suburban street that day. In the pocket of Will's coat rested his cell phone, programmed to capture everything he and Joseph were saying on tape.
This would be it: The ultimate, definitive proof that Jay and Tyler were innocent. Joseph was about to reveal the true extent of the Partners' scheme against Jay Burchell and Tyler Fog. No matter how much danger it put Will in to record this conversation, he simply couldn't pass up the opportunity to walk away with that kind of ammunition to use against Hometown if he – or his roommates – ever needed it.
"The target," Joseph began, nodding amiably at two women in tracksuits jogging past, "is the Drexler Museum of Art in New York City. You're familiar with the museum?"
Will shrugged. He had never been there personally, but the place was a landmark. "I've heard of it," he answered.
Something tickled in the back of Will's brain then. The Drexler…Hadn't he just heard about that on the news? A report that had involved President Shears?
An extensive loan of the president's personal art collection, that was it. The Drexler Museum was planning an exhibition of paintings related to the founding of the country, all from the Shears Collection, that very summer.
Coincidence? Will thought not. For two years, he had been gathering and doctoring evidence to establish that Jay and Tyler both had reasons to hate President Shears – Jay, for what the military had done to his father with his court martial, and Tyler, for what the SEC had nearly done to his father with their investigation of fraud and corruption. Shears hadn't been directly involved with either incident, of course, but it was his policies, both with the military and with the SEC, that had sparked the investigation into Tom Burchell and Carlton Fog.
Will said nothing about his recollection of the news report, and Joseph, true to form, did not mention the reasoning behind the orders Will was being given. "In two weeks, you and Mr. Burchell and Mr. Fog will depart from New Haven for New York to begin your cross-country road trip," Joseph went on, his voice crisp, emotionless. They could have been discussing stocks instead of two innocent lives. "When you reach New York, your orders are to detonate an explosive device in the Drexler Museum."
The plan made perfect sense to Will as soon as Joseph said it. He had ensured that Jay and Tyler could not deny having handled explosive devices on a polygraph; he had manipulated his chemical engineering assignments to make it appear that Jay spent a significant amount of time learning how to make a bomb; he had used his video blog to depict them both as president-hating terrorists; he had tricked his roommates into seeming to have the kind of tactical training necessary to pull off bombing a public building.
So the story will go: Two intelligent but disillusioned young men, out of a twisted sense of loyalty to their families, decide to strike back at the government, to take revenge for what their fathers suffered, by blowing up the Shears Collection while it's on loan to the Drexler – and in the process, taking out a landmark of high-class New York society and a few hundred innocent people…
Will concentrated on the specifics of the final directive as Joseph laid them out, detailing what type of explosive device he should create, how he should get it into the museum, and what method would be preferable for guaranteeing that Jay and Tyler were in the building but unaware of the bomb prior to the detonation. Even as he listened, Will, being an excellent operative, could see it all coming together in his mind's eye.
The morning after graduation, he, Tyler and Jay would say goodbye to the Castle and head for New York City in Tyler's SUV. The road trip was by this time completely planned: With his job at Fog Industries secured, Tyler was once again insisting on footing the bill for everything, so Will had been left in charge of planning and Jay, who had wanted to assist with the planning but who was trying to appear as unconnected to the trip as possible given how volatile Kim's reaction to the idea had been, had been left with the unenviable task of keeping them out of trouble once they actually hit the road. The route Will had laid out would eventually bring them to San Francisco in six weeks' time, from where they would take a much faster and more direct line back to New York, back to the adult responsibilities that awaited them.
Only now, Will understood that the first stop on their journey would be the last. He had intended for the three of them to spend that first night in the luxurious Worcester Park Hotel, a sort of last taste of the good life before eight weeks of chain motels and campgrounds. They would still have that one fabulous night, Will decided, because it would seem natural that two young men would want to "live it up" prior to risking their lives for their cause. The 9-11 hijackers had partied in strip clubs and bars on September 10. Tyler Fog and Jay Burchell would do something very similar, and then in the morning, they would go to the Drexler Museum, plant a bomb, and become terrorists.
What would actually happen, of course, would be that Will would lure his friends into the museum and, once inside, would split up from them so he could set up the bomb. As Will cast around for a means of pulling this plot off, he immediately thought of the med school pranks the trio of roommates had pulled: While Jay and Tyler wouldn't need to handle the explosives this time around – no way would he ever convince Jay to bring anything dangerous inside a public building, Will knew – they would need to do something memorable that would place them at the scene in the minds of surviving witnesses. Two men skating through the elegant art museum would definitely be enough to get their faces on security cameras and in the memories of survivors. Will would stay behind to film them for his "blog," waiting until his roommates were off and running to plant the bomb, which, in a place with security as lax as an art museum's, he could easily sneak inside in Jericho Sanders' old black backpack.
And then, after double-checking that Jay and Tyler had made it outside, Will would detonate the device.
Killing dozens of people and throwing a barely-recovered city into another state of horror of panic, just like after 9-11 – but if I don't do it, they'll just find somebody else who will…
Trying not to think about the damage he would be doing to innocent lives and to the country itself, Will focused instead on mentally walking through the outcome of the bombing for his friends. Jay and Tyler would initially assume their friend had died in the blast. Until they were arrested, of course, at which point they would realize that, since no record of Will Traveler existed, he had in all likelihood been responsible for their framing.
And once Carlton Fog got involved, that suspicion would be confirmed. Will didn't delude himself that the help he would offer his friends through Tyler's father would mean much to them at that point – they would already hate him, quite possibly for the rest of their lives, for his betrayal.
But by then, Will and Maya would be long gone, so it wouldn't matter.
Much.
Yet not all of the puzzle pieces were fitting together for Will. For as he listened to Joseph, Will realized that, unlike previous missions that had required him to frame innocent people, Joseph was not saying much about Jay and Tyler. Instead, he seemed more concerned with instructing Will in exactly where the bomb should be placed inside the Drexler (the wing with the Shears Collection exhibit) and exactly when it should be detonated (between nine-thirty and nine-forty-five in the morning).
It's like he's more interested in blowing up the museum than framing Jay and Tyler. What's in the Drexler that Hometown would want destroyed?
Before Will could answer that question, Joseph suddenly asked, "Are you clear on the directive, Will? You understand what we want from you?"
"Yes, sir." Will responded with automatic, highly-ingrained military courtesy. "You can tell the Partners not to worry. I'll see to it that the mission is carried out."
"Excellent." Turning, Joseph began to stroll back in the direction of his house. "I knew I could count on you."
Count on this, asshole – you're gonna regret the day you ever met me very, very soon.
"You know," Joseph continued, quite conversationally, "there is one aspect of this we haven't discussed, and that's your roommates."
Will felt his heart rate speed up again and once more was thankful for the absence of cameras. Silently, he waited for Joseph to go on.
"They will be framed for the bombing – "
This was not news to Will, so he said nothing. Better to let Joseph do the talking now, he decided, until he had heard exactly what the final directive was – because Will had a sudden sinking feeling that he knew what came next.
" – and they are expected to die in the blast."
Briefly, Will fantasized about jerking the Beretta from its concealed spot on his left hip and emptying the clip into Joseph's placidly-smiling face. To hear Jay and Tyler's lives discussed with such casual brutality, to hear their deaths plotted with absolutely no feeling for the men they were and the promise their futures held…It took all of Will's considerable self-control to hold his fury in check.
"Is that going to be a problem for you?"
Joseph's tone was gentle. Nonetheless, behind it Will heard the warning: Answer yes, and he was dead; answer no unconvincingly, and he was dead.
Daniel Taft doesn't give a shit about Jay Burchell and Tyler Fog. Daniel Taft lives the mission. Daniel Taft believes in what he does. Daniel Taft wants that private meeting with Director Freed more than anything else in this world.
Be Daniel Taft. For Maya. For Jay. For Tyler. For Kim. For Nell. Be Daniel, not Will, just for one second.
Ready –
Set –
Go.
"No. Not at all."
Even though Will Traveler could never have said those words and meant them, Daniel Taft could. And for the span of one heartbeat, for the space of four little words, the young man became Daniel Taft again.
It worked.
Joseph's face visibly relaxed, the tension easing out of him as he seemed to see what he had been searching for since greeting Will in the kitchen: That Daniel Taft, not Will Traveler, was still in charge of this operation.
"Good," Joseph rejoined, "because there's no room for error, Will." He leaned in closer, like a boyhood friend sharing a secret. "The Drexler is just the first step in a much larger plan."
Will stiffened slightly, thinking of the hints Sela and Carlton Fog had both given him that Hometown and the Partners were a much larger enterprise than he had ever dared believe. Was Joseph telling him that, too? Conveying in not so many words what a huge conspiracy Will had found himself in?
And was he doing so because he trusted Daniel Taft with that information, or because he wanted to remind Will Traveler that there was no way out?
They were nearing the Langdon house again. Joseph suddenly appeared eager to end the conversation. "Your country appreciates it," he told Will, as he had after every dastardly deed Daniel Taft had committed in the name of patriotism. Stopping at the edge of his driveway, he extended his hand for Will to shake. "You'll never know how much, Will. We're all in your debt."
"Don't mention it." Will's smile felt forced, unnatural, but he hoped it would be enough to fool Joseph given the fine performance he had just managed. "I'd best be on my way, though. Sounds like I've got a lot to prepare before graduation."
"You headed back to New Haven?" Joseph asked, moving onto the porch steps as Will walked around to the driver's side of the rental car.
Will shook his head. He had two thoughts in his mind: One, contact Carlton, and two, see Maya.
"No, I'm going to Deer Harbor," he answered honestly. From now until the end of the operation, Will knew he wouldn't be able to sneak away; he would be watched, day and night, by Hometown agents to ensure that he didn't get cold feet and try to run. If he wanted to see Maya, he had to tell Joseph where he was going.
And he needed to see Maya. He couldn't follow through with this horrible plot unless he did.
"What for?" Joseph prompted, looking bewildered.
"Most of the evidence I've got against Burchell and Fog is there." Will silently patted himself on the back for having the foresight to store those materials in Deer Harbor, which gave him a perfect excuse to head for Maya's now. "I'm going to collect it and take it back to New Haven. Drop it off in Tyler's ex-girlfriend's basement for storage. After the bombing, I've no doubt she'll contact the authorities to come get their stuff, and then the case against them'll be sealed."
Joseph smiled his approval. "Clever thinking, Will. I like it. Safe trip, all right?"
Driving away from his handler's house for what would be the last time (so long as everything went according to plan in two weeks), Will managed to remain perfectly calm, his hands steady on the wheel, while he headed back toward the city, from where he would take the Interstate north to Maine. At the river, he pulled over in a gravel lot dotted with other vehicles – it was a gorgeous spring day, and many families had chosen to walk or picnic by the water. He took the cell phone from his pocket, the one that had recorded his conversation with Joseph, and pushed "play."
"There is one aspect of this we haven't discussed, and that's your roommates. They will be framed for the bombing, and they are expected to die in the blast."
Ever so slightly, Will's fingers began to tremble.
"Is that gonna be a problem for you?"
A pause. A breath. And then the ultimate betrayal.
"No. Not at all."
Closing his eyes, feeling a wave of panic rise up inside of him as Joseph's last words filled the quiet cab of the luxury car – "There's no room for error, Will. The Drexler is just the first step in a much larger plan" – Will pictured a far-off day in the future when, in the back of a limousine in some dark New York alley, he might somehow arrange to meet with his by-then rich, successful, happy and long-exonerated roommates. He could see Tyler's face, earnest and desiring to believe that Will had never meant to hurt them; he could see Jay, half-turned to the window, stoic and refusing to entertain the possibility that Will was a good man. Jay and Will had always been the closest; they shared a bond Tyler couldn't understand, the bond of sons who had loved and lost amazing fathers. Jay would take Will's deception to heart much more so than Tyler, Will feared.
And what would he say to them? How would he explain to them why he had been able to coolly, cruelly agree to murdering them?
I said it because I love you. I said it because I can't protect you unless they believe I'm a monster. I had to betray you, both of you, to save your lives. You heard the tape, Jay – this was bigger than me, more than I could stop on my own. I'm just a soldier. I couldn't save you from all of it, but I tried – I really tried – to save your lives.
Maya's face swam into view behind Will's eyes. Her sweet, tender smile brought an instant serenity to him.
You did the best you could, Will, she whispered in his heart. You're only one man. Do what you can do: Save their lives, and trust that the rest will work out.
Who knows? One day, they might even forgive you.
Opening his eyes, Will shook his head ever so slightly. No, he doubted his friends would ever forgive him. He would have to live with their hatred for the rest of his life; he would have to accept that in their minds, he would be a terrorist, a criminal, a killer. Because deep down, Will knew that even if he ever had the chance to explain himself to Jay and Tyler, he wouldn't ask for their forgiveness – he would be too afraid that it would be withheld. It would be better, he decided, if he never saw them again, if they went on despising him forever, but if he did somehow fall into their lives at some distant, grainy point in the future, it would be better if he let them go on believing that he was one of the bad guys.
He could handle them believing that because of what he had done, Will thought. He couldn't handle them believing that because of who he was.
Now was not the time for lengthy ruminations on the nature of friendship and loyalty, however – Will had a lot of work to do in a very short amount of time if he wanted his roommates to have the chance to hate him. Slipping his other cell phone from his satchel, Will punched in the number of Carlton Fog's secure line and steeled himself for Fog's reaction to this latest development.
"Hello, Will," Fog answered smoothly on the third ring. "You have news?"
Will regularly updated Fog on the progress of his mission, especially anything that pertained to Tyler's well-being, so Fog had known that Will would be meeting Joseph that day. Briefly, he relayed the details of his final directive, saving for the end the most crushing news: "They want Jay and Tyler to die in the blast."
On the other end of the line, Will heard the older man draw in a sharp breath. "I thought that might be the case," Fog murmured, half to himself.
"I can get them out," Will assured Tyler's father. "But all I can do is ensure that they survive the bombing. Then I have to walk away."
"Of course." Fog sounded as firmly committed to that chain of events as Will, whether because he wanted to be sure the man who could prove his own betrayal was immediately out of the picture after the bombing or because he wanted to be sure Will survived, Will had no way of knowing and opted not to speculate on. "You see to it that they don't die in that museum, and I'll have my people in place to protect them afterwards. I have the name of the hotel where you'll be staying in New York. I'll be sure to have someone placed there, and someone outside the museum, to watch out for them and help them get to me."
Will nodded. He felt calm once more, in control of the situation. He was ready to be on the road, ready to see Maya, but he had one more question for Fog.
"Any word on this Anselmo guy and what his deal is in all of this?"
"Some," Fog hedged. "It really doesn't pertain to anything you'll be doing, though, Will. I'll tell you what I know if you're interested, but I think it might be more prudent for you to just focus on getting through the next two weeks right now."
Will bristled at the idea that he might not be equipped to process whatever Fog had learned. Nevertheless, remembering how emotionally shaken he had been minutes earlier, Will couldn't deny that Fog probably had a point – if Anselmo wasn't going to be a major player in the Drexler plot, if he wasn't going to interfere with Will's plans in anyway, then whoever he was and whatever he wanted was a set of worries Will didn't need to contend with right now.
"As long as he isn't going to be a problem for me, then I don't care," Will decided. He could hear Fog's approving smile on the other end of the line, and while it rankled Will a bit, it also gave him a perverse sense of satisfaction to have pleased Fog.
No wonder he manipulates Tyler so well – Tyler doesn't have the same psychological training that I do, and this guy still manages to push my buttons.
"I've got to get going," Will continued, hoping Fog couldn't guess his thoughts, as the older man seemed to have an uncanny knack for doing exactly that. "I don't expect I'll need to contact you anymore between now and the bombing, unless something changes."
"I'll transfer the remainder of your fee this afternoon, then."
Fog hesitated. Will did not immediately hang up, either, though he wasn't sure what was left to say.
Silence hung between them for a moment. Finally, Fog said, rather gruffly, "Look after yourself, Will."
"You know me." Will grinned against the receiver, staring across the river at the city where he knew, high atop his penthouse suite, Fog was probably standing at his own window gazing out toward him. "I'll be fine. And I'll take care of Tyler, I promise."
"I know you will, son, I know you will." Fog's tone carried a finality tinged with sadness, suggesting that he, too, understood the odds Will was facing, how easily everything about their carefully-laid plans could go up in smoke. "I would say it's been a pleasure, but…"
Will laughed. "Yeah, but it hasn't been."
"Not under these circumstances, no," Fog admitted. "But if you need anything once you're on the run – "
The last person Will could imagine going to for help would be Carlton Fog, the man responsible for his father's death. Cutting Fog's paternal speech short, he said coldly, "Like I said, I'll be fine. I'm pretty capable of taking care of myself."
"Yes." Fog sighed, sounding resigned to Will's refusal to accept his overtures of friendship. "Then I guess there's nothing left to say, Will, except good luck."
Author's Note: I apologize for the episode rehash here. The next two chapters will have a very short couple of scenes from the show's flashbacks and from the first episode as well, because as the story catches up to the timeline of the show, I found it necessary to incorporate some of what we saw happen in order to complete Will and Maya's journey. But I promise to keep the rehash to a minimum.
Only two chapters left and then the epilogue, so please let me know what you think about where Will and Maya are and how I've gotten them here!