It rained for three days after Frank¹s team took over. I saw Frank less
and less each day and quickly learned to entertain myself in his absence.
Most of the rainy evenings that followed I spent sitting in the small
courtyard in the center of the complex. Covered in part by a dark awning,
I would sit at the small glass-top table next to the little pond and
fountain in the center of the courtyard. I sat with my knees pulled up to
my chest, my over-sized sweater stretched over them with my chin resting in
the material pulled taught between them. I would stare at the rain as it
hit the deep red brick path, watching until darkness fell and the tiny
porch light above the door came on. The light was dim but it illuminated
the drops of rain just enough to see them appear suddenly, silently
descend, and then, just as suddenly, crash into the bricks. The light
would dance off of the miniscule droplets of water that would explode out
from the impact. Together, the hundreds of drops of rain would merge into
a symphony of tiny explosions against the darkness. A shower of wet fire.
The rhythm was soothing. But the more I watched, the more disturbing the
pattern, the more it bombarded my mind and disturbed my soul.
Breaking from my trance I closed my eyes, trying to shake the violent quaking of the fear that threatened to erupt within me. I stood silently and walked into the house, my arms hugging each other tightly. Walking down the hallway I could already make out Frank and his team sitting at the dining room table looking over maps and files, none of which I understood from a distance. Cody worked steadily at the computer. It seemed he lived on it, day and night. I assumed he was doing something productive. I assumed they were all doing something that would lead to the discovery of Carter, but I had yet to be allowed in on their secretive discussions and technical jargon. I was left with my assumptions and pushed to the background. I felt as though my safety net, my connection with Frank, had been all but obliterated. I was a devastating feeling that I tried desperately to ignore, telling myself that our relationship was both ill timed and doomed under the circumstances.
I turned abruptly, deciding not to face the group, and walked into the kitchen and began a fruitless search of the refrigerator. I had found in my life that when I was the most bored or nervous I would search the refrigerator for some unknown item, not really hungry and usually never finding anything tempting enough to induce a craving. After a few minutes I relented and resolved to go to bed, despite the reasonably early hour. My mind was not capable of reading or researching and my heart was less than eager for company. However, company it found as I turned to walk out of the kitchen. Frank was standing in the doorway with one hand raised bracing his tall frame as it leaned in toward me. He stared at me for a moment, inquisitively narrowing his eyes.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly. "You've been quiet lately. I've been worried."
"Really?" I asked, surprised to hear the agitation in my own voice. "It hasn't showed." I looked him in the eye for only an instant before I averted my gaze, a little disappointed in myself for my response.
"I'm sorry Kate. With Borders gone I'm in charge now, it's my show. I have to supervise my team and help them in order to find Carter and end this."
"Yeah. That would be nice wouldn't it? To just get this all over with and move on with our lives. That would be wonderful. Very liberating," I said, just barely avoiding a yell and fully aware that I had probably just caught the attention of the others. Frustrated, I pushed past Frank and walked as quickly as I could down the hall to my room. I shut the door behind me, restraining myself from slamming it as hard as I could. I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream at Frank for ignoring me and I wanted to scream at myself for being so childish. I knew that this had to end, that I was in danger and Frank and his team were the only people that could help restore my life to normal. But I wanted to be over so badly that I denied it existed for that one moment in the kitchen staring him down as if he were the enemy. I felt guilty and angry at the same time. So many emotions ran through me at any one time that over the past weeks I had begun to unable to differentiate between them. I paced for a while across the room from the window to the door, fighting back tears and trying to hold off the mountain of nerves that threatened to crumble from underneath me. I paused at the window for a moment, blankly staring out into the darkness of the overcast skies. I stood quietly, intently trying to push back the pain and work up the strength to move on, just one more time. I heard the creak of the floorboards in the hall a second before the faint knock of someone at the door. I stood motionless, not certain I wanted to answer. After a few more attempts at the door, I relented and called out for whomever it was to enter.
Not surprisingly, it was Frank. He cautiously opened the door and stepped into the room. I turned away from him as I felt the tears begin the well up in my eyes. I did not want him to see me cry again, but I wanted him to know more than anything how much I was hurting.
"Kate, I'm sorry for everything. But you know what has to be done. You have to know that this is not going to be easy. We can't let our emotions get in the way." I could hear the pleading in his voice and wanted to say something but could not.
"Kate, please. Say something. Scream at me. Cry if you want to, but don't block me out. Not now. We've made it this far and we can get through this. But I can't do it without you. You have to be in this one hundred percent." I finally broke my silence and turned towards him.
"You don't need me, Frank. You are more than able to finish this on your own. We haven't made it through anything. You've done everything. I'm only here because you pushed me. I would have died back there in that tunnel if it weren't for you."
"You know that's not true. You made the decision to live and you did. You were well on your way out of there before you reached me. You helped me get into that building. You were the one that opened the door, not us."
"It doesn't matter how I got here. The fact remains that I can't go any farther. I'm stuck. I don't have the energy to face this thing any more. I want it to stop. I want to go home and get on with my life."
"That can't happen until Carter is out of the picture, you know that."
"How do we know he's even still out there? Maybe he's moved on. Maybe he doesn't want me anymore. How do you know he's even alive? Men like that get killed everyday by people that disappear just as quickly as he can. He has enemies. He has to. Maybe they found him already."
Frank started to reply but stopped himself. He turned his head a little and I could tell that something I had said had struck a chord with him. After a few seconds he returned his attention to me and seemed to begin where he had left off.
"Kate, you have to trust me. I know I keep telling you that but it's the only way we'll make it through. We have to trust each other's instincts and right now mine are telling me that you are very much in danger and we need to stick together," he finished and held my glance for an instant before turning, seemingly reluctant to leave the subject, but turned and walked out of the room.
As he shut the door behind him I wanted to pick up a large vase on the dresser closest to me and throw it at the door. I stopped myself however and after a few unsuccessful attempts to collect myself and return to the kitchen to get dinner, I resigned myself to getting ready for bed and trying to put the incident behind me.
In the morning I dreaded getting out of bed and contemplated just staying there. But I eventually, and reluctantly, got up and showered and threw on the same clothes I had been wearing the previous night. A brief glance out of the window revealed that the clouds had cleared a bit and the day looked promising for the first time in weeks. After throwing my hair up into a ponytail, I walked down the hall to the kitchen. Alex and Monica were in there laughing about something. I would never find out what, they stopped abruptly and left the room as I entered. The feeling of wanting to throw something returned but I suppressed it once again and grabbed a muffin from a tray and began to peel the paper from the bottom when I heard a voice behind me.
"Well, I guess I should thank you."
I turned towards Frank, certain my confusion was obvious. He was smiling like a Cheshire cat. He looked like a little kid that had just pulled off the world¹s greatest prank. I had never seen him like this and was unsure how to proceed with my questioning. Before I could say anything though, he continued.
"Your remark last night about Carter."
I was still at a loss. I had said so many things during my tantrum that I remembering one specific comment was all but impossible.
"About him having enemies," Frank continued, aware of my confusion. "Of course he does. Anyone in his position would have enemies. It took a little digging, but we found them."
"Found who?"
"His enemies. The people who are going to help us."
"What do you mean? How could people like that be of any help to us?"
"Well, that's where it gets interesting," he said and walked out of the kitchen towards the dinging room.
I assumed that I was meant to follow him so after grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and toting my muffin, I did. The dining room was a mess. Papers and computers had appeared overnight like they had grown there. All of the agents were bouncing around from monitors to boxes to files to monitors, oblivious as usual to my presence. Frank was standing at the table rifling through some files, apparently looking for something specific. Jake walked by and winked at me, giving me a thumbs up for reasons yet unknown. Seconds later, Frank walked around the table and stopped in front of me.
"Here he is," he said opening a file folder and turning it to show me.
The picture inside was of a man in his mid-forties, red hair and beard. He was glaring at the camera and his gaze disturbed me. It reminded me of the look in Carter's eyes in the broiler room. I stared for a moment but quickly looked away, flipping my hand up, brushing the folder away from me a little.
"Who is he?"
"Marco Renauldi."
"And what does he do?"
"He's an arms dealer like Carter. They done a couple of transactions together, nothing big, but apparently Carter has moved up on his list of people to kill."
"Why?"
"Well, before Carter went on his little rampage through the college, he was heavily involved in a weapons exchange between himself, Renauldi, and another dealer from Japan. Apparently they each had something the other wanted and decided to do an exchange rather than purchase the weapons from one another. It's a rare situation but it happens. But the people involved have to trust each other a good deal before they'll consent."
"So if he trusted Carter, what happened?"
"Well, Carter backed out of the exchange the day before it was supposed to go down and went underground. No one could find him after that. He just disappeared. We know now that he was planning the attack on the school. This left Renauldi and the other dealer stuck. Neither had their weapons and both became suspicious of Carter. A few weeks after the exchange was supposed to happen, Renauldi found out that the weapons Carter had promised him had been sold to another dealer somewhere in South America. I guess to help pay his men. You have to understand that what Carter did at the college wasn't cheap. He scraped and scammed his way through to get enough money to pay for everything he needed."
"Okay, so Renauldi didn't get his guns. So what? Can't he get them from someone else?"
"No. The rumor is that Carter had some kind of new weapon, possibly a new kind of explosive imported from Eastern Europe. Whatever it was, it was big. Renauldi was planning on using it fairly soon. Everything he had planned up until that point included using this weapon. It was apparently the only thing that would do the job. But that doesn't matter. The fact remains that Carter jilted Renauldi of the opportunity of using it and ruined all his plans. Renauldi obviously lost a lot of money. He was probably contracted to do a specific job on a certain timeline and when Carter pulled out of the exchange, he had to scrap his original plan and redo everything. He lost the contract because he wasn't able to figure out an alternate plan in time and there's always someone else waiting in the wings to do the job and do it cheaper if you don't. So Renauldi lost his contract and possibly millions of dollars and he lost face with his client. That's bad for business and he blames Carter for the whole thing."
"All right, but how's that help us. Does he know where Carter is?"
"We don't know that yet. We do know that he's been looking for him. We don't have any agents in his circle and we don't have the time to set up an operation like that. So for now, all we have is surveillance. But according to some of our sources, Renauldi is close. He's been tracking Carter somehow, we're not sure how, but he's been just a few steps behind him for a week or so now."
"So what do you do now?"
"We watch Renauldi. I have six agents in the field keeping a close eye on him and his people. Jake and Alex will be joining them later today."
"Join them where?"
"Just outside Chicago."
"You mean Carter's that close? After all this time he's practically just down the road?"
"I mean Renauldi is in Chicago. Carter may or may not be. We have to wait and see what happens. But if I had to hazard a guess I'd say that Carter is probably closer than we think. He knows we wouldn't have gone too far and he knows we can't hide forever. He's in stalking mode right now, just waiting patiently for us to make our next move out into the open. If we were to lose our cover right now, he would strike, and strike harder than we could defend ourselves against."
The idea of Carter lurking about sent chills through my entire body. The fear that I had been trying so hard to suppress was now threatening to take over once again. I knew that Frank was trying to make me understand that finding out about Renauldi was a good thing, but it was hard for me to understand that this was the biggest lead we would get on Carter's location. As much as I wanted to get the entire thing over with, and as much as that depended on finding Carter, I was not happy with the idea of actually pushing him to resurface. Frank was aware of how unsettled I was with the whole plan. He tried to make me feel better about the idea.
"Kate, this is the only way to get close to Carter and we have to get to him in order to end this. You won't be in any danger. We'll handle everything. You'll stay here with Monica. Carter won't look for you here, I promise," he said, grasping my arms gently, making sure he had eye contact with me.
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to think I was safe there. But something inside of me told me I was not. But despite my disillusionment, I smiled weakly, and told Frank I believed him. He seemed content with my answer. He smiled softly and, after squeezing my hand briefly, returned to the task at hand, foraging through the files and computer printouts.
The next few days were more animated than the ones before. Alex and Jake left to join the other agents in the field while Frank, Cody, and Monica planned and strategize how they would proceed with the capture should Carter be located. The rain had stopped and the sun was out for a while before the clouds began to congregate once again. A cold wind began blowing and the skies massed together into a slate gray ceiling above us. It was snowing by the end of the week. The flurries of snow were lightly building in the grass but melting quickly. The ominous skies had a strange affect on me. Watching the banks of clouds moving in seemed threatening, harboring a dark future.
Word finally came from the field that Renauldi had apparently found Carter and that the team was going to move in on him within a day. Frank and Cody loaded up a van with more equipment than I could imagine was necessary and prepared to leave the night Alex called from the field. Frank tried to reassure me that Monica was all the protection I needed where I was and that he would return soon, hopefully with Carter in handcuffs. I smiled and nodded, trying to pretend that I believed him. Deep down I knew he was as certain of his success as I was. He knew that trying to take Carter down would be tricky at best, disastrous at worst. I watched from the doorway, standing back behind Monica, as Frank and Cody drove away that night. The strange thing was, I wanted to go with them. I knew I would not be of any help to them, but I wanted to be there if they got him. I wanted to see the look in his eyes when they took him away for the last time. But instead I stood in the shadows and watched them leave, praying they would return safely, and hoping they knew what they were doing.
That night went by slowly. Monica kept in contact with Frank via radio and cell phone, constantly updating him on everything from local police involvement to traffic reports. She repeatedly referred to several psychological profiles they had on Renauldi and his people as well as Carter. I sat in front of the fireplace with my back to her most of the night, unable to sleep and afraid she would not wake me if something happened. She had barely spoken to me since she had arrived. Her job was her number one priority and she treated me as part of it. She was not cold towards me; she simply worked on a different level. So I left her to her work. I would not have known what to say to her anyways, considering what had happened between Frank and myself. Part of me could tell that she suspected something. Maybe they all did. Frank may have been a master at disguising his emotions but I certainly was not.
Monica and I spent the rest of the night with our backs to one another. I eventually fell asleep on the sofa, curled up on the end with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders and my cheek against the cool leather on the arm. When I awoke the next morning the fire had long since extinguished itself and the sun was slipping in through the dining room window, squeezing past the sheer white curtains. I rubbed my eyes trying to get them to focus. I began to make out Monica's form in the chair across from me. She was curled up in a tight little ball with a quilt from one of the beds over her. It surprised me to see her sleeping. With everything that was going on I guess I imagined that she would still be awake and working at the computer. I told myself that it must mean that nothing was happening and everything was going well or else she would have been awake. Once my initial surprise and concern wore off, I got off of the sofa and ate breakfast and showered. After I had dressed I walked back into the dining room to see Monica start turning on some equipment and booting up a laptop. She looked up when I walked in but said nothing.
"Good morning," I said, braving the silence.
"Good morning," she replied without looking up.
"Any word yet?" I asked, probing the awkward silence.
"No, they're holding their positions for now."
"So no sign of Carter then?"
"No, not yet."
"When do you think they'll hear something?"
"I don't have any idea. We just have to wait and see."
"Oh, okay," I tried to act as if the lack of information did not bother me as much as it did. I was attempting to appear as professional as the rest of them. But I believe I failed miserably.
Monica continued to stare at the computer monitor as I sat across from her at the table fidgeting and fussing with a stack of papers. My continuous motion and the uncomfortable silence eventually took it¹s toll on Monica and she tore her eyes from the computer, staring at me with a determined expression that told me to stop whatever I was doing. I gave her a guilty grin and put my hands in my lap.
"Listen, Miss Connor, " Monica began with a surprisingly lighter tone. "I know that this is hard for you. I know you don't have any experience with this sort of thing and I appreciate that you want to know what's going on. You should know, it's your life, but I'm not accustomed to working alongside the person we're supposed to protect. I mean, it's obvious that you and Frank have become close and that's fine, it's not my business, but I can't let my guard down and become friends like that. I know what can happen when you let the wrong people in and once you think you're one of us, then you're that much closer to getting hurt."
"I'm not asking to be part of the team, Monica. I just want to know what's going on. I can't sit here while people take care of my problems. Maybe I do want to be part of the action. But I don't want to be one of you. I've been close enough to that. I just..." I could not say to her what I wanted to say. I did not want to admit what I was thinking. But she saw through my guise easily enough.
"You just want to know that Donovan's alright."
"Yeah, I suppose I do. I don't want anyone else to die. I don't want to lose anyone else."
Monica smiled as she shook her head.
"I don't think you have to worry about that. Frank Donovan isn't exactly the easiest person to knock down. Not to mention the fact that he has the best team in the world backing him up," she said with a wink.
I laughed a little, glad for the lightened mood, and relieved to hear that the situation was in good hands. I knew Frank's team was good, but I knew Carter was in some ways at least, better. I sat with Monica the rest of the morning before heading out into the courtyard to read. My heart felt a little lighter after speaking with Monica. It was the first time I had realized that it was not only Frank who knew what he was doing. Competent and fully capable people who did this kind of thing on a daily basis surrounded me. I was the only rookie in this picture. I felt secure that I would be taken care of and protected. But security if often a fleeting feeling and I was close to finding out how quickly it passes.
***************
"So what do you think so far Michael? Am I still the same person you thought you knew?" my mother asked as she turned back towards me, her eyes deceiving her attempt to lighten her tone.
I could see that she was exhausted, emotionally and physically. I did not know what to say. I could hardly keep eye contact with her. I felt guilty for my anger and ashamed of how I had spoken of and about her. But mostly I felt confusion. I wanted to understand what she was telling me but it all seemed like some kind of strange fiction. Wanting to make her feel better about revealing the truth I tried to hide my emotions.
"Of course you're the same person. Your past doesn't change who you are to me. It's what made you who and what you are."
"That was a very Hallmark response. I had not realized we had fallen to cliché and generic remarks. I had hoped for some form of honesty Michael, especially now."
I felt her displeasure greatly and was sorry I had chosen such a lame way of covering my own discomfort.
"Mom, I don't know what to say, to be honest. All I know is that the life I've led isn't necessarily the life I thought I lived. Everything has changed and everything¹s the same. I don't know what to think."
"Now that's better. An honest answer. That's what I deserve to hear," she said with a slight smile and a glint in her eye. "Honestly Michael, I don't expect forgiveness or understanding. I just need to know that my life wasn't for nothing. That what I've done wasn't wrong or selfish. I can't die knowing that my son may not know who his father is or know all the wonderful things he's done. I don't want to think that someday after I'm gone you may find out on your own and hate me more than you do now."
"I don't hate you Mom. I could never. I was just angry. I still am to some degree. You should have told me sooner."
"I know, Michael. I know. But I couldn't find the strength. For all the courage I have, I never had enough to admit I was lying to you your entire life."
"Well, you've told me now. You don't have to worry about that anymore," I said as I leaned over a placed my hand over hers, as they lay crossed in her lap.
She smiled softly and closed her eyes like she was trying to memorize every tingle in my touch. I must admit that I too, was trying to memorize every line, every stray hair, and every speck of color in her eyes. It was the only way I could hold on to her now. I was losing the mother I never knew and I needed ever scrap of memory I could afford myself.
"You should get some sleep, Mom."
"No," she said, opening her eyes quickly, an urgent tone to her voice. "No, I have to finish this. You need to know and I have to tell you while I can, just in case...just in case."
"All right. If that's what you want."
"What time is it, Michael?"
"Two in the morning, why?"
"Ha, how strange," she whispered as she stared of into a dark corner of the room as she remembered some long lost memory that was invisible to me.
"What's strange?"
"That's the time that we got the call."
"What call?"
"The call we had been waiting for. The call telling us that Carter had been captured. The call that was supposed to mean it was all over."
Breaking from my trance I closed my eyes, trying to shake the violent quaking of the fear that threatened to erupt within me. I stood silently and walked into the house, my arms hugging each other tightly. Walking down the hallway I could already make out Frank and his team sitting at the dining room table looking over maps and files, none of which I understood from a distance. Cody worked steadily at the computer. It seemed he lived on it, day and night. I assumed he was doing something productive. I assumed they were all doing something that would lead to the discovery of Carter, but I had yet to be allowed in on their secretive discussions and technical jargon. I was left with my assumptions and pushed to the background. I felt as though my safety net, my connection with Frank, had been all but obliterated. I was a devastating feeling that I tried desperately to ignore, telling myself that our relationship was both ill timed and doomed under the circumstances.
I turned abruptly, deciding not to face the group, and walked into the kitchen and began a fruitless search of the refrigerator. I had found in my life that when I was the most bored or nervous I would search the refrigerator for some unknown item, not really hungry and usually never finding anything tempting enough to induce a craving. After a few minutes I relented and resolved to go to bed, despite the reasonably early hour. My mind was not capable of reading or researching and my heart was less than eager for company. However, company it found as I turned to walk out of the kitchen. Frank was standing in the doorway with one hand raised bracing his tall frame as it leaned in toward me. He stared at me for a moment, inquisitively narrowing his eyes.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly. "You've been quiet lately. I've been worried."
"Really?" I asked, surprised to hear the agitation in my own voice. "It hasn't showed." I looked him in the eye for only an instant before I averted my gaze, a little disappointed in myself for my response.
"I'm sorry Kate. With Borders gone I'm in charge now, it's my show. I have to supervise my team and help them in order to find Carter and end this."
"Yeah. That would be nice wouldn't it? To just get this all over with and move on with our lives. That would be wonderful. Very liberating," I said, just barely avoiding a yell and fully aware that I had probably just caught the attention of the others. Frustrated, I pushed past Frank and walked as quickly as I could down the hall to my room. I shut the door behind me, restraining myself from slamming it as hard as I could. I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream at Frank for ignoring me and I wanted to scream at myself for being so childish. I knew that this had to end, that I was in danger and Frank and his team were the only people that could help restore my life to normal. But I wanted to be over so badly that I denied it existed for that one moment in the kitchen staring him down as if he were the enemy. I felt guilty and angry at the same time. So many emotions ran through me at any one time that over the past weeks I had begun to unable to differentiate between them. I paced for a while across the room from the window to the door, fighting back tears and trying to hold off the mountain of nerves that threatened to crumble from underneath me. I paused at the window for a moment, blankly staring out into the darkness of the overcast skies. I stood quietly, intently trying to push back the pain and work up the strength to move on, just one more time. I heard the creak of the floorboards in the hall a second before the faint knock of someone at the door. I stood motionless, not certain I wanted to answer. After a few more attempts at the door, I relented and called out for whomever it was to enter.
Not surprisingly, it was Frank. He cautiously opened the door and stepped into the room. I turned away from him as I felt the tears begin the well up in my eyes. I did not want him to see me cry again, but I wanted him to know more than anything how much I was hurting.
"Kate, I'm sorry for everything. But you know what has to be done. You have to know that this is not going to be easy. We can't let our emotions get in the way." I could hear the pleading in his voice and wanted to say something but could not.
"Kate, please. Say something. Scream at me. Cry if you want to, but don't block me out. Not now. We've made it this far and we can get through this. But I can't do it without you. You have to be in this one hundred percent." I finally broke my silence and turned towards him.
"You don't need me, Frank. You are more than able to finish this on your own. We haven't made it through anything. You've done everything. I'm only here because you pushed me. I would have died back there in that tunnel if it weren't for you."
"You know that's not true. You made the decision to live and you did. You were well on your way out of there before you reached me. You helped me get into that building. You were the one that opened the door, not us."
"It doesn't matter how I got here. The fact remains that I can't go any farther. I'm stuck. I don't have the energy to face this thing any more. I want it to stop. I want to go home and get on with my life."
"That can't happen until Carter is out of the picture, you know that."
"How do we know he's even still out there? Maybe he's moved on. Maybe he doesn't want me anymore. How do you know he's even alive? Men like that get killed everyday by people that disappear just as quickly as he can. He has enemies. He has to. Maybe they found him already."
Frank started to reply but stopped himself. He turned his head a little and I could tell that something I had said had struck a chord with him. After a few seconds he returned his attention to me and seemed to begin where he had left off.
"Kate, you have to trust me. I know I keep telling you that but it's the only way we'll make it through. We have to trust each other's instincts and right now mine are telling me that you are very much in danger and we need to stick together," he finished and held my glance for an instant before turning, seemingly reluctant to leave the subject, but turned and walked out of the room.
As he shut the door behind him I wanted to pick up a large vase on the dresser closest to me and throw it at the door. I stopped myself however and after a few unsuccessful attempts to collect myself and return to the kitchen to get dinner, I resigned myself to getting ready for bed and trying to put the incident behind me.
In the morning I dreaded getting out of bed and contemplated just staying there. But I eventually, and reluctantly, got up and showered and threw on the same clothes I had been wearing the previous night. A brief glance out of the window revealed that the clouds had cleared a bit and the day looked promising for the first time in weeks. After throwing my hair up into a ponytail, I walked down the hall to the kitchen. Alex and Monica were in there laughing about something. I would never find out what, they stopped abruptly and left the room as I entered. The feeling of wanting to throw something returned but I suppressed it once again and grabbed a muffin from a tray and began to peel the paper from the bottom when I heard a voice behind me.
"Well, I guess I should thank you."
I turned towards Frank, certain my confusion was obvious. He was smiling like a Cheshire cat. He looked like a little kid that had just pulled off the world¹s greatest prank. I had never seen him like this and was unsure how to proceed with my questioning. Before I could say anything though, he continued.
"Your remark last night about Carter."
I was still at a loss. I had said so many things during my tantrum that I remembering one specific comment was all but impossible.
"About him having enemies," Frank continued, aware of my confusion. "Of course he does. Anyone in his position would have enemies. It took a little digging, but we found them."
"Found who?"
"His enemies. The people who are going to help us."
"What do you mean? How could people like that be of any help to us?"
"Well, that's where it gets interesting," he said and walked out of the kitchen towards the dinging room.
I assumed that I was meant to follow him so after grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and toting my muffin, I did. The dining room was a mess. Papers and computers had appeared overnight like they had grown there. All of the agents were bouncing around from monitors to boxes to files to monitors, oblivious as usual to my presence. Frank was standing at the table rifling through some files, apparently looking for something specific. Jake walked by and winked at me, giving me a thumbs up for reasons yet unknown. Seconds later, Frank walked around the table and stopped in front of me.
"Here he is," he said opening a file folder and turning it to show me.
The picture inside was of a man in his mid-forties, red hair and beard. He was glaring at the camera and his gaze disturbed me. It reminded me of the look in Carter's eyes in the broiler room. I stared for a moment but quickly looked away, flipping my hand up, brushing the folder away from me a little.
"Who is he?"
"Marco Renauldi."
"And what does he do?"
"He's an arms dealer like Carter. They done a couple of transactions together, nothing big, but apparently Carter has moved up on his list of people to kill."
"Why?"
"Well, before Carter went on his little rampage through the college, he was heavily involved in a weapons exchange between himself, Renauldi, and another dealer from Japan. Apparently they each had something the other wanted and decided to do an exchange rather than purchase the weapons from one another. It's a rare situation but it happens. But the people involved have to trust each other a good deal before they'll consent."
"So if he trusted Carter, what happened?"
"Well, Carter backed out of the exchange the day before it was supposed to go down and went underground. No one could find him after that. He just disappeared. We know now that he was planning the attack on the school. This left Renauldi and the other dealer stuck. Neither had their weapons and both became suspicious of Carter. A few weeks after the exchange was supposed to happen, Renauldi found out that the weapons Carter had promised him had been sold to another dealer somewhere in South America. I guess to help pay his men. You have to understand that what Carter did at the college wasn't cheap. He scraped and scammed his way through to get enough money to pay for everything he needed."
"Okay, so Renauldi didn't get his guns. So what? Can't he get them from someone else?"
"No. The rumor is that Carter had some kind of new weapon, possibly a new kind of explosive imported from Eastern Europe. Whatever it was, it was big. Renauldi was planning on using it fairly soon. Everything he had planned up until that point included using this weapon. It was apparently the only thing that would do the job. But that doesn't matter. The fact remains that Carter jilted Renauldi of the opportunity of using it and ruined all his plans. Renauldi obviously lost a lot of money. He was probably contracted to do a specific job on a certain timeline and when Carter pulled out of the exchange, he had to scrap his original plan and redo everything. He lost the contract because he wasn't able to figure out an alternate plan in time and there's always someone else waiting in the wings to do the job and do it cheaper if you don't. So Renauldi lost his contract and possibly millions of dollars and he lost face with his client. That's bad for business and he blames Carter for the whole thing."
"All right, but how's that help us. Does he know where Carter is?"
"We don't know that yet. We do know that he's been looking for him. We don't have any agents in his circle and we don't have the time to set up an operation like that. So for now, all we have is surveillance. But according to some of our sources, Renauldi is close. He's been tracking Carter somehow, we're not sure how, but he's been just a few steps behind him for a week or so now."
"So what do you do now?"
"We watch Renauldi. I have six agents in the field keeping a close eye on him and his people. Jake and Alex will be joining them later today."
"Join them where?"
"Just outside Chicago."
"You mean Carter's that close? After all this time he's practically just down the road?"
"I mean Renauldi is in Chicago. Carter may or may not be. We have to wait and see what happens. But if I had to hazard a guess I'd say that Carter is probably closer than we think. He knows we wouldn't have gone too far and he knows we can't hide forever. He's in stalking mode right now, just waiting patiently for us to make our next move out into the open. If we were to lose our cover right now, he would strike, and strike harder than we could defend ourselves against."
The idea of Carter lurking about sent chills through my entire body. The fear that I had been trying so hard to suppress was now threatening to take over once again. I knew that Frank was trying to make me understand that finding out about Renauldi was a good thing, but it was hard for me to understand that this was the biggest lead we would get on Carter's location. As much as I wanted to get the entire thing over with, and as much as that depended on finding Carter, I was not happy with the idea of actually pushing him to resurface. Frank was aware of how unsettled I was with the whole plan. He tried to make me feel better about the idea.
"Kate, this is the only way to get close to Carter and we have to get to him in order to end this. You won't be in any danger. We'll handle everything. You'll stay here with Monica. Carter won't look for you here, I promise," he said, grasping my arms gently, making sure he had eye contact with me.
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to think I was safe there. But something inside of me told me I was not. But despite my disillusionment, I smiled weakly, and told Frank I believed him. He seemed content with my answer. He smiled softly and, after squeezing my hand briefly, returned to the task at hand, foraging through the files and computer printouts.
The next few days were more animated than the ones before. Alex and Jake left to join the other agents in the field while Frank, Cody, and Monica planned and strategize how they would proceed with the capture should Carter be located. The rain had stopped and the sun was out for a while before the clouds began to congregate once again. A cold wind began blowing and the skies massed together into a slate gray ceiling above us. It was snowing by the end of the week. The flurries of snow were lightly building in the grass but melting quickly. The ominous skies had a strange affect on me. Watching the banks of clouds moving in seemed threatening, harboring a dark future.
Word finally came from the field that Renauldi had apparently found Carter and that the team was going to move in on him within a day. Frank and Cody loaded up a van with more equipment than I could imagine was necessary and prepared to leave the night Alex called from the field. Frank tried to reassure me that Monica was all the protection I needed where I was and that he would return soon, hopefully with Carter in handcuffs. I smiled and nodded, trying to pretend that I believed him. Deep down I knew he was as certain of his success as I was. He knew that trying to take Carter down would be tricky at best, disastrous at worst. I watched from the doorway, standing back behind Monica, as Frank and Cody drove away that night. The strange thing was, I wanted to go with them. I knew I would not be of any help to them, but I wanted to be there if they got him. I wanted to see the look in his eyes when they took him away for the last time. But instead I stood in the shadows and watched them leave, praying they would return safely, and hoping they knew what they were doing.
That night went by slowly. Monica kept in contact with Frank via radio and cell phone, constantly updating him on everything from local police involvement to traffic reports. She repeatedly referred to several psychological profiles they had on Renauldi and his people as well as Carter. I sat in front of the fireplace with my back to her most of the night, unable to sleep and afraid she would not wake me if something happened. She had barely spoken to me since she had arrived. Her job was her number one priority and she treated me as part of it. She was not cold towards me; she simply worked on a different level. So I left her to her work. I would not have known what to say to her anyways, considering what had happened between Frank and myself. Part of me could tell that she suspected something. Maybe they all did. Frank may have been a master at disguising his emotions but I certainly was not.
Monica and I spent the rest of the night with our backs to one another. I eventually fell asleep on the sofa, curled up on the end with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders and my cheek against the cool leather on the arm. When I awoke the next morning the fire had long since extinguished itself and the sun was slipping in through the dining room window, squeezing past the sheer white curtains. I rubbed my eyes trying to get them to focus. I began to make out Monica's form in the chair across from me. She was curled up in a tight little ball with a quilt from one of the beds over her. It surprised me to see her sleeping. With everything that was going on I guess I imagined that she would still be awake and working at the computer. I told myself that it must mean that nothing was happening and everything was going well or else she would have been awake. Once my initial surprise and concern wore off, I got off of the sofa and ate breakfast and showered. After I had dressed I walked back into the dining room to see Monica start turning on some equipment and booting up a laptop. She looked up when I walked in but said nothing.
"Good morning," I said, braving the silence.
"Good morning," she replied without looking up.
"Any word yet?" I asked, probing the awkward silence.
"No, they're holding their positions for now."
"So no sign of Carter then?"
"No, not yet."
"When do you think they'll hear something?"
"I don't have any idea. We just have to wait and see."
"Oh, okay," I tried to act as if the lack of information did not bother me as much as it did. I was attempting to appear as professional as the rest of them. But I believe I failed miserably.
Monica continued to stare at the computer monitor as I sat across from her at the table fidgeting and fussing with a stack of papers. My continuous motion and the uncomfortable silence eventually took it¹s toll on Monica and she tore her eyes from the computer, staring at me with a determined expression that told me to stop whatever I was doing. I gave her a guilty grin and put my hands in my lap.
"Listen, Miss Connor, " Monica began with a surprisingly lighter tone. "I know that this is hard for you. I know you don't have any experience with this sort of thing and I appreciate that you want to know what's going on. You should know, it's your life, but I'm not accustomed to working alongside the person we're supposed to protect. I mean, it's obvious that you and Frank have become close and that's fine, it's not my business, but I can't let my guard down and become friends like that. I know what can happen when you let the wrong people in and once you think you're one of us, then you're that much closer to getting hurt."
"I'm not asking to be part of the team, Monica. I just want to know what's going on. I can't sit here while people take care of my problems. Maybe I do want to be part of the action. But I don't want to be one of you. I've been close enough to that. I just..." I could not say to her what I wanted to say. I did not want to admit what I was thinking. But she saw through my guise easily enough.
"You just want to know that Donovan's alright."
"Yeah, I suppose I do. I don't want anyone else to die. I don't want to lose anyone else."
Monica smiled as she shook her head.
"I don't think you have to worry about that. Frank Donovan isn't exactly the easiest person to knock down. Not to mention the fact that he has the best team in the world backing him up," she said with a wink.
I laughed a little, glad for the lightened mood, and relieved to hear that the situation was in good hands. I knew Frank's team was good, but I knew Carter was in some ways at least, better. I sat with Monica the rest of the morning before heading out into the courtyard to read. My heart felt a little lighter after speaking with Monica. It was the first time I had realized that it was not only Frank who knew what he was doing. Competent and fully capable people who did this kind of thing on a daily basis surrounded me. I was the only rookie in this picture. I felt secure that I would be taken care of and protected. But security if often a fleeting feeling and I was close to finding out how quickly it passes.
***************
"So what do you think so far Michael? Am I still the same person you thought you knew?" my mother asked as she turned back towards me, her eyes deceiving her attempt to lighten her tone.
I could see that she was exhausted, emotionally and physically. I did not know what to say. I could hardly keep eye contact with her. I felt guilty for my anger and ashamed of how I had spoken of and about her. But mostly I felt confusion. I wanted to understand what she was telling me but it all seemed like some kind of strange fiction. Wanting to make her feel better about revealing the truth I tried to hide my emotions.
"Of course you're the same person. Your past doesn't change who you are to me. It's what made you who and what you are."
"That was a very Hallmark response. I had not realized we had fallen to cliché and generic remarks. I had hoped for some form of honesty Michael, especially now."
I felt her displeasure greatly and was sorry I had chosen such a lame way of covering my own discomfort.
"Mom, I don't know what to say, to be honest. All I know is that the life I've led isn't necessarily the life I thought I lived. Everything has changed and everything¹s the same. I don't know what to think."
"Now that's better. An honest answer. That's what I deserve to hear," she said with a slight smile and a glint in her eye. "Honestly Michael, I don't expect forgiveness or understanding. I just need to know that my life wasn't for nothing. That what I've done wasn't wrong or selfish. I can't die knowing that my son may not know who his father is or know all the wonderful things he's done. I don't want to think that someday after I'm gone you may find out on your own and hate me more than you do now."
"I don't hate you Mom. I could never. I was just angry. I still am to some degree. You should have told me sooner."
"I know, Michael. I know. But I couldn't find the strength. For all the courage I have, I never had enough to admit I was lying to you your entire life."
"Well, you've told me now. You don't have to worry about that anymore," I said as I leaned over a placed my hand over hers, as they lay crossed in her lap.
She smiled softly and closed her eyes like she was trying to memorize every tingle in my touch. I must admit that I too, was trying to memorize every line, every stray hair, and every speck of color in her eyes. It was the only way I could hold on to her now. I was losing the mother I never knew and I needed ever scrap of memory I could afford myself.
"You should get some sleep, Mom."
"No," she said, opening her eyes quickly, an urgent tone to her voice. "No, I have to finish this. You need to know and I have to tell you while I can, just in case...just in case."
"All right. If that's what you want."
"What time is it, Michael?"
"Two in the morning, why?"
"Ha, how strange," she whispered as she stared of into a dark corner of the room as she remembered some long lost memory that was invisible to me.
"What's strange?"
"That's the time that we got the call."
"What call?"
"The call we had been waiting for. The call telling us that Carter had been captured. The call that was supposed to mean it was all over."