****
Callahan sat behind the wheel of his car. Something wasn't right this morning. It was in the air. Montcalvez had yet to show himself. So, he waited. He hated waiting, always had. Even more so since he'd killed Litha. He didn't want to do it, but the little snot wouldn't leave him alone. Shame he had to put it off on Donovan though. Not that he felt sorry for it one little bit.
It had been too easy to do. He knew Donovan was itching to get Litha out of there and he just pushed and pushed and pushed. It wasn't his fault Donovan was a horrible shot. As he sat there in the car, he replayed that morning over again. The man grabbing Litha, seeing her vest on the floor behind them, putting Litha between him and Donovan, getting the man to turn just right. It was all a blur, but he saw the red spray as his bullet slammed into her ribcage even as Donovan's bullet jerked the man's head back. He saw both of them fall to the ground, then Donovan pushing him out of the room to get the ambulance.
Callahan shook his head to clear the memory. No sense in dwelling on the past. He held up a card that he'd received in the mail the day after the funeral. It was tattered and creased in places, for he'd kept it with him. It was in Litha's handwriting. He read it aloud, his voice soft as he did in the silence of the car.
"Thy soul shall find itself alone,
'mid dark thoughts of the grey tombstone -
not one, of all the crowd, to pry
into thine hour of secrecy.
Be silent in that solitude
which is not loneliness, for then
the spirits of the dead who stood
in life before thee are again
in death around thee, and their will
shall overshadow thee: be still."
He didn't know what it was from, he had the vague feeling he knew it, like he'd heard it before. Callahan shook his head again and put the card away. This was no time to be dwelling on a ghost. Litha couldn't touch him now, and he had business to do with Seno Reymundo Montcalvez - primarily finding out why he'd been summoned earlier than he'd planned originally.
That was a shock, to receive a call from Montcalvez and then be told that the meeting would have to be scheduled for earlier as something had come up. In all his dealings with the czar, he'd never changed a meeting unless something was of dire importance.
"About damned time." Callahan looked at his watch 9:55 am. Right on time. The limo pulled up and Montcalvez and his bodyguards got out. Callahan stepped out of his vehicle and walked towards them.
"What's going on Montcalvez?" He said.
"You have betrayed me, Callahan. That I cannot allow!"
"Betrayed you? Who told you that?"
"Someone I trust more than you. You got too greedy Callahan, your agent is dealt with and now you will be as well."
Litha and her team watched from behind one of the crates on the waterfront. They'd been able to hear everything clearly as surveillance had been set up the night before while she was out covering Alex in the middle of nowhere. Show Time. She stood up and walked out.
Litha was dressed in a pair of black slacks, a black turtlenecked sweater that concealed the sub-vocal transmitter that was wrapped around her throat, topped off with a long black frock coat that came to mid-thigh. Over that, to ward off the chill of the January Chicago waterfront air, she had her white cashmere ankle-length coat. Under her suit jacket she had her shoulder holster and weapons. The blue contacts had been left at home, her eyes concealed with dark sunglasses. Her hair was left loose, mainly to cover the invisible earpiece in her right ear.
Her high heeled boots clicked evenly on the concrete of the waterfront. Callahan looked at her and stepped back. She looked too much like Litha in that outfit. But Litha was dead... A voice in his mind whispered 'the spirits of the dead who stood in life before thee are again...' He shook his head to clear it.
"You're mad Montcalvez! You'd trust this woman over me? I've been with you for years?"
"Ah, Si, you have been. But lately, you've drifted away. Senora Broussard has shown me what a traitor you are to me Callahan. She even dealt with your inside agent, Miss Channing."
Callahan blinked. Litha blinked behind her sunglasses. She didn't expect Montcalvez to name off the 'agent'.
Donovan was listening in. He'd gotten Cody to tap into the surveillance and give them equal ground. Alex was in the ops base just a few yards away with Cody and was listening in. Jake was close by in case they needed to go in. But, as before, he waited until Litha gave the signal.
"Channing? Who is this agent named Channing? I don't have..." Callahan looked at Ms. Broussard. Again, the tiny voice whispered 'Not one, of all the crowd, to pry into thine hour of secrecy.'
"you've been lied to Montcalvez! By her!" He pointed at Broussard and reached for his gun.
Montcalvez's bodygaurds responded by pulling their own weapons and releasing the safeties. Callahan looked near hysterical. The voice again whispered in his mind, 'in death around thee, and their will shall overshadow thee: be still.' Why couldn't he remember where he'd heard that damned poem?
Montcalvez just shook his head. "No, Senor Callahan. I am through with you. I leave you to Senora Broussard's care. Goodbye." And he turned to leave. She watched him go, knowing her team would pick him and his people up far enough out of sight. Then she turned back to Callahan with a slow smile of the cat that ate the canary.
"Why, Lewis Callahan..."
Callahan froze, the voices whispering all at once in one voice as the rest of the poem crystalized in his mind: 'As a burning and a fever, which would cling to thee forever...'
"You look like hell..."
'now are the thoughts thou shalt not banish- now are the visions ne'er to vanish...'
"You alright?" Litha was walking closer.
'from thy spirit shall they pass no more - like dew-drops from the grass...'
Litha stopped and took off her sunglasses to reveal sparkling emerald green eyes that were as cold as the sweat on Callahan's forehead. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
'Be silent in that solitude, which is not loneliness, for then the spirits of the dead who stood in life before thee are again, in death around thee, and their will shall overshadow thee: BE STILL.' Callahan's face had gone pale and he was trembling. Litha wasn't dead, he didn't kill her after all... and he was a dead man.
"Hm. I see." she said, turning her back to him and stepping a few feet away. She turned back to him. "You do realize, of course, that you are under arrest. You've been a very naughty boy, Lewis. Drugs, bribes, smuggling, witness tampering..." Litha didn't see Montcalvez return.
Callahan did. He relaxed a bit, the color coming back to his face. Donovan was listening to everything going on. Alex had told him Montcalvez was backtracking. Quietly he told Litha through his own subvocal that she wasn't alone.
She stopped listing the litany of crimes Callahan had committed and tilted her head ever-so-slightly to the right as she listened to Donovan's voice in her ear. She shook her head and looked down.
"Where have you been?" was all she said.
That was the signal. Litha's tactical team came out of their hiding places, Donovan and his team came out, the local police swept in and surrounded the place. Litha looked around as one of her team put the cuffs on Callahan and read him his rights. It was a let down to be honest. She'd planned on sweet revenge for three years, but instead she got this. She didn't even get to kick his ass from one end of the dock to the other. She was disappointed.
Donovan looked at her. He could see the disappointment on her face. Hell, even he wanted to see Litha put the man in his place. But that wasn't how they did things in the HNR units. A good job meant no one got wounded or killed, and the criminal was apprehended. According to those standards, they'd all earned their paychecks cleanly and did a bonny good job.
Litha looked at him. She was going to hate this part most of all. In the press of people and agents, she turned and followed as Callahan was escorted to a waiting vehicle. She didn't have time to tell him she was leaving. By the time he'd find out, she'd most likely be on her way to D.C. with her prisoner in custody.
Donovan blinked. She was just there. He looked around and pushed past the police who were putting Montcalvez's men into the waiting confinement vehicles.
But, she was gone...
****
Callahan sat behind the wheel of his car. Something wasn't right this morning. It was in the air. Montcalvez had yet to show himself. So, he waited. He hated waiting, always had. Even more so since he'd killed Litha. He didn't want to do it, but the little snot wouldn't leave him alone. Shame he had to put it off on Donovan though. Not that he felt sorry for it one little bit.
It had been too easy to do. He knew Donovan was itching to get Litha out of there and he just pushed and pushed and pushed. It wasn't his fault Donovan was a horrible shot. As he sat there in the car, he replayed that morning over again. The man grabbing Litha, seeing her vest on the floor behind them, putting Litha between him and Donovan, getting the man to turn just right. It was all a blur, but he saw the red spray as his bullet slammed into her ribcage even as Donovan's bullet jerked the man's head back. He saw both of them fall to the ground, then Donovan pushing him out of the room to get the ambulance.
Callahan shook his head to clear the memory. No sense in dwelling on the past. He held up a card that he'd received in the mail the day after the funeral. It was tattered and creased in places, for he'd kept it with him. It was in Litha's handwriting. He read it aloud, his voice soft as he did in the silence of the car.
"Thy soul shall find itself alone,
'mid dark thoughts of the grey tombstone -
not one, of all the crowd, to pry
into thine hour of secrecy.
Be silent in that solitude
which is not loneliness, for then
the spirits of the dead who stood
in life before thee are again
in death around thee, and their will
shall overshadow thee: be still."
He didn't know what it was from, he had the vague feeling he knew it, like he'd heard it before. Callahan shook his head again and put the card away. This was no time to be dwelling on a ghost. Litha couldn't touch him now, and he had business to do with Seno Reymundo Montcalvez - primarily finding out why he'd been summoned earlier than he'd planned originally.
That was a shock, to receive a call from Montcalvez and then be told that the meeting would have to be scheduled for earlier as something had come up. In all his dealings with the czar, he'd never changed a meeting unless something was of dire importance.
"About damned time." Callahan looked at his watch 9:55 am. Right on time. The limo pulled up and Montcalvez and his bodyguards got out. Callahan stepped out of his vehicle and walked towards them.
"What's going on Montcalvez?" He said.
"You have betrayed me, Callahan. That I cannot allow!"
"Betrayed you? Who told you that?"
"Someone I trust more than you. You got too greedy Callahan, your agent is dealt with and now you will be as well."
Litha and her team watched from behind one of the crates on the waterfront. They'd been able to hear everything clearly as surveillance had been set up the night before while she was out covering Alex in the middle of nowhere. Show Time. She stood up and walked out.
Litha was dressed in a pair of black slacks, a black turtlenecked sweater that concealed the sub-vocal transmitter that was wrapped around her throat, topped off with a long black frock coat that came to mid-thigh. Over that, to ward off the chill of the January Chicago waterfront air, she had her white cashmere ankle-length coat. Under her suit jacket she had her shoulder holster and weapons. The blue contacts had been left at home, her eyes concealed with dark sunglasses. Her hair was left loose, mainly to cover the invisible earpiece in her right ear.
Her high heeled boots clicked evenly on the concrete of the waterfront. Callahan looked at her and stepped back. She looked too much like Litha in that outfit. But Litha was dead... A voice in his mind whispered 'the spirits of the dead who stood in life before thee are again...' He shook his head to clear it.
"You're mad Montcalvez! You'd trust this woman over me? I've been with you for years?"
"Ah, Si, you have been. But lately, you've drifted away. Senora Broussard has shown me what a traitor you are to me Callahan. She even dealt with your inside agent, Miss Channing."
Callahan blinked. Litha blinked behind her sunglasses. She didn't expect Montcalvez to name off the 'agent'.
Donovan was listening in. He'd gotten Cody to tap into the surveillance and give them equal ground. Alex was in the ops base just a few yards away with Cody and was listening in. Jake was close by in case they needed to go in. But, as before, he waited until Litha gave the signal.
"Channing? Who is this agent named Channing? I don't have..." Callahan looked at Ms. Broussard. Again, the tiny voice whispered 'Not one, of all the crowd, to pry into thine hour of secrecy.'
"you've been lied to Montcalvez! By her!" He pointed at Broussard and reached for his gun.
Montcalvez's bodygaurds responded by pulling their own weapons and releasing the safeties. Callahan looked near hysterical. The voice again whispered in his mind, 'in death around thee, and their will shall overshadow thee: be still.' Why couldn't he remember where he'd heard that damned poem?
Montcalvez just shook his head. "No, Senor Callahan. I am through with you. I leave you to Senora Broussard's care. Goodbye." And he turned to leave. She watched him go, knowing her team would pick him and his people up far enough out of sight. Then she turned back to Callahan with a slow smile of the cat that ate the canary.
"Why, Lewis Callahan..."
Callahan froze, the voices whispering all at once in one voice as the rest of the poem crystalized in his mind: 'As a burning and a fever, which would cling to thee forever...'
"You look like hell..."
'now are the thoughts thou shalt not banish- now are the visions ne'er to vanish...'
"You alright?" Litha was walking closer.
'from thy spirit shall they pass no more - like dew-drops from the grass...'
Litha stopped and took off her sunglasses to reveal sparkling emerald green eyes that were as cold as the sweat on Callahan's forehead. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
'Be silent in that solitude, which is not loneliness, for then the spirits of the dead who stood in life before thee are again, in death around thee, and their will shall overshadow thee: BE STILL.' Callahan's face had gone pale and he was trembling. Litha wasn't dead, he didn't kill her after all... and he was a dead man.
"Hm. I see." she said, turning her back to him and stepping a few feet away. She turned back to him. "You do realize, of course, that you are under arrest. You've been a very naughty boy, Lewis. Drugs, bribes, smuggling, witness tampering..." Litha didn't see Montcalvez return.
Callahan did. He relaxed a bit, the color coming back to his face. Donovan was listening to everything going on. Alex had told him Montcalvez was backtracking. Quietly he told Litha through his own subvocal that she wasn't alone.
She stopped listing the litany of crimes Callahan had committed and tilted her head ever-so-slightly to the right as she listened to Donovan's voice in her ear. She shook her head and looked down.
"Where have you been?" was all she said.
That was the signal. Litha's tactical team came out of their hiding places, Donovan and his team came out, the local police swept in and surrounded the place. Litha looked around as one of her team put the cuffs on Callahan and read him his rights. It was a let down to be honest. She'd planned on sweet revenge for three years, but instead she got this. She didn't even get to kick his ass from one end of the dock to the other. She was disappointed.
Donovan looked at her. He could see the disappointment on her face. Hell, even he wanted to see Litha put the man in his place. But that wasn't how they did things in the HNR units. A good job meant no one got wounded or killed, and the criminal was apprehended. According to those standards, they'd all earned their paychecks cleanly and did a bonny good job.
Litha looked at him. She was going to hate this part most of all. In the press of people and agents, she turned and followed as Callahan was escorted to a waiting vehicle. She didn't have time to tell him she was leaving. By the time he'd find out, she'd most likely be on her way to D.C. with her prisoner in custody.
Donovan blinked. She was just there. He looked around and pushed past the police who were putting Montcalvez's men into the waiting confinement vehicles.
But, she was gone...
****