chapter four: scapegoat
This was a bad idea, Frankie thought as the guard escorted her into the prison. She signed in, leaving her gun with a fierce-looking guard she didn't recognize. Her escort smiled as they headed to the interrogation room. "It's nice to see you again, ma'am."
Frankie's laugh sounded nervous to her own ears. "I wish I could say it's good to be back, Charlie."
Charlie nodded. "I understand. Here we are." He unlocked the door and stepped aside so Frankie could enter.
Sadiq Fasil sat at the table, his wrists and ankles manacled. He looked up when Frankie walked in and a slow, bitter, smile bloomed on his face. Ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, Frankie set the file on the table and sat down.
Fasil spoke first. "I have been thinking about you."
Hearing his voice made Frankie's skin crawl. She masked her discomfort by looking away and opening the file.
Fasil leaned forward. "When I think about our time together, I think how I wasted it." He reached for her hand.
She sat back, putting distance between them. "I thought you were above such thoughts."
"I am weak." He frowned. "You made me weak. I can see now why your husband was so eager to find you."
"And you said I wouldn't be missed." Frankie forced herself to relax. "How does it feel to be wrong?"
There was a light in Fasil's eyes that sent cold chills down Frankie's spine. She knew she should move on to other questions, but she couldn't. Not yet.
"You shouldn't hate me. You should be grateful."
"Grateful? For what, exactly?"
"I brought you and your husband back together." He gestured to her rings.
"No, you didn't."
"Frankie Kilmer . . ." His gaze raked her. Then he sniffed, as if he suddenly found her distasteful. His words were mocking. "Are you here to kill me too?"
Frankie let her hand rest on the file. "Don't pretend it was about Alpha-126. I've done my homework. You didn't even know him."
Fasil shrugged. "It took you this long to find that out?"
"Why'd you pick me?"
"Eh, why not?"
"Who were you working for?"
Fasil smiled and he leaned forward again. "That cross around your neck – your Christ was chosen to die for the sins of others, yes?"
Frankie automatically reached up and touched the cross. Although she hadn't set foot in a church in years, she said, "Yes."
"So were you."
She swallowed, tasting bile. "What does that mean?"
Fasil just looked at her, his smile mocking, his eyes cold.
Frankie stood. "I want you think about Black Sun while I'm gone."
Charlie opened the door for her. She needed sunshine, fresh air, water. She wanted Kilmer. There was another guard outside, smoking a cigarette. He smiled at Frankie, offering the pack to her. Without thinking, she took one and let him light it.
The nicotine burned her throat. She hadn't smoked since high school and remembered now that she'd never liked it that much.
Kilmer was right; she shouldn't have come.
She let the cigarette fall to the floor and stubbed it out with her boot.
Michael Watson was the last person Kilmer wanted to see but when Michael called to invite him to lunch, he'd said yes. Now, sitting in Houlini's, Kilmer wished he hadn't come.
"It's been too many years," Michael said. "I thought it was about time we caught up with each other."
Kilmer nodded distractedly, his thoughts on the last time he'd seen Michael. They'd been friends in the Academy and became partners when they graduated. There had always been a slight edge of competition to their relationship, but Kilmer was more intelligent and a better agent. When he'd met Frankie, a beautiful, talented up-and-coming profiler, Michael had found even more to be jealous about.
Kilmer wondered just how much his old friend had changed, if at all.
"So, how's Frankie doing?" Michael asked. "I heard she was in hospital for a while."
"She's okay." The last thing Kilmer felt like doing was discussing her with Michael. "What have you been up to? Rumor has it you're an Assistant Director these days."
Michael gave a smug nod. "You heard right. I'm aiming for Director one day, but we'll have to wait and see how that goes."
"Yeah." Kilmer picked up the menu, quickly scanning it. Nothing caught his interest.
"So, uh, you and Frankie are back together, huh? I guess you guys managed to sort out all your differences then."
Kilmer's eyes narrowed. "Like I said, we're working on it."
"That's good. I'm happy for you." Michael sipped his water. "I never got around to getting married, you know. I thought if what you and Frankie had wasn't enough to keep you together, no one else had a chance."
Kilmer couldn't think of a suitable response.
"Anyway, tell me about this Threat Matrix project you're involved in."
Relieved that the conversation had moved to a more neutral topic, Kilmer filled Michael in on some of the less sensitive cases he'd dealt with.
And all the while, he thought of Frankie having to interrogate Fasil, and hoped she was okay.
Angel had found, early on in the assignment, that working alone was tough. She looked around the Vault, wondering if there was anyone here she could go to with her suspicions. She desperately needed a second opinion, before it was too late for Kilmer.
Deciding against it, Angel turned back to her computer screen and resumed her investigation of Kilmer's past. She was compiling a list of anyone who had a reason – no matter how seemingly insignificant – to hurt Kilmer. She'd only been at it an hour and already the list was too long for her liking.
It included people involved in his missions for the Delta Force, from cases he'd dealt with as an FBI agent, terrorists he'd investigated and pursued . . . and everyone working at the Vault. No one, with the possible exception of Frankie, was above suspicion.
It had to be someone who knew Kilmer well enough to know his weakness was Frankie, Angel thought, and that narrowed the list to his colleagues. As horrifying as the prospect was that one of Kilmer's friends was out to destroy him, it was the only thing that made sense to Angel.
The only question now was whether it was someone from here, or someone from his past.
Angel could feel the beginnings of a headache.