Chapter 16
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"Yeah. They were there."
Michael assessed Raines' former partner. His face, his body language was a study in stress, a blade-edge stress Michael could easily identify.
Earlier in their careers, they'd had brief contact several times. The last time their operations intersected was '98 in Albania when Michael delivered falsified documents to him, documents he would need to get through customs and police checkpoints at the time he left the country.
Michael was aware he'd left the CIA for the FBI some time after that, but until he and Fiona saw him at the hotel, he'd not known of his connection to Raines or Raines' wife.
Pulling out the other chair, Michael sat across from him. "You know Fiona's history since you tried so hard to keep her imprisoned. She was in Tripoli to facilitate a weapons transfer to a ship waiting offshore. When she arrived, she heard an argument. She picked up a couple of words, but not the gist of the argument. You arrived with another man. A Libyan? And you were also arguing. When you turned away from the dock to leave, there was an explosion. She saw you kill the man you were arguing with with a silenced weapon."
"Did she see his weapon, too?"
"Was he an agent?"
"Double agent. Yeah, and no way to prove that now."
Michael watched a tic in his eye develop. So that was Anson's leverage.
"What about the others? Fi watched. You went back toward the explosion and put bullets in the three who were arguing when she got there."
"Did she stick around to count weapons? Or bodies? Or shooters? Because two of them got shots off at me; I was injured that night. And where was Axe?"
"You couldn't see him, but he was there."
Michael watched as he scrolled back in his memory. "He was a SEAL then. They were there? Of course. They must have set the . . . "
"Fi didn't."
"Yeah, quite the reputation your wife has, Westen. It was useful for keeping her incarcerated."
"Anson used that reputation and almost destroyed both of us. She figured out how to break his stranglehold, and it's ended. We need to end to him. I spent five years trying to destroy his organization, but I missed him. That's why he had Max killed. Because I missed him."
"This . . . with me . . . is different."
Michael rose and walked to the opposite side of the table. "I know Anson leveraged a man named Tavian Korzha to assassinate Max. It took a while to find him, but he jumped to his death before I could convince him to come in. Don't jump. We can help."
"Anson had Tavian's family killed. He didn't have anything to live for."
"How long has he been running you?" Michael asked, not without empathy.
"A lifetime. Almost ten years." He rose, stuck his hands in his pockets and walked the opposite side of the room. "Just when I think he's gone, he comes back. He promises I've done the last thing he needs, but comes back. Sometimes he's waits a couple of years. But you must have him worried, because he's in my face every day now. You know he's been trying to kill you for the last five years. Apparently, you weren't what he wanted until he figured out how to use you."
"I know."
"No, you don't." He turned and looked at Michael. "It's occurred to you that anyone who tries to help you dies?"
Michael nodded. "It has."
"And there have been others. Three years ago, you were supposed to meet a CIA investigator, but you kept deflecting the meeting time and place. When he finally got to where you live by the river, you shot him. Anson had me send him after you. I hoped I'd estimated your will to live accurately. Lucky for you . . . or me, I did."
"What the hell does he have on you?" Michael demanded angrily, as the memory of the garrote that nearly took his life resurfaced. "The agent you killed in Tripoli?"
He turned sharply and jammed a finger into Michael's chest. "Yes and no. It's nothing and it's everything he's coerced me into doing . . . like you, Westen. Do you know how much of what I'd been doing you've undone? You stole that software, cleared his name out of CIA files, washed him clean. I'd worked long and hard to make sure every dollar he had was somehow linked to an account on a watch list, and then your friends got his money back."
"Not all of it," Michael said.
"Do you think I'm the only one he runs? He evaluates, decides what and who he wants and goes after it. You have no idea of the scale of his network. You took a lot of it down, but believe me, it's back."
"Management?" Michael asked.
"He's out there, somewhere. Management used to take the lead, now Anson does."
"So who's his leverage? It's always someone you care about . . . "
He shot another sharp glance at Michael.
Michael inhaled sharply. "Raines' wife."
"And Raines and their kids," he growled. "And every time I think I'm close to being rid of that son of a bitch, he has one more job. Just one more thing. Then one more thing. It never ends."
His words were virtually Fiona's words before she left. Michael leaned against the table.
"I told my secretary 30 minutes, but I need to go back now. We can't meet again. You're on your own on this. If you come back here again, I'll have you arrested. If you involve me . . ." He glanced at his watch.
"I'll endanger you and everyone you've been protecting. One more thing. You sent your guys to my loft to make a mess and keep us away. Why were you looking for Sizemore?"
"I wasn't . . . I needed a bluff to keep them there. It made Anson happy. He likes that guy for some reason. You've got your family in protective custody, that's good. But I know where you're living now; so does he. Watch your back. Have your friends stay alert."
"Sam?"
What might have been a smile appeared. "That was me. He lost a car but he's alive. Hired the wrong guys to kidnap you. My bad," he laughed without humor. "What you need to do, Westen, is to keep looking at things the way you were. If you focus on the money and arms, there might be a way out of this. But watch your back. Time's up. I'm leaving. He's got his thumb on someone on my staff. I'm not sure who. And stay away. Just stay away."
With that he flipped off the lights and ventilation, opened the door and made sure it was locked.
"You need your life back," Michael said quietly.
His laugh was cold. "What life?"
He left first. Michael waited five minutes then he left.
But, when the elevator doors opened and Michael scanned the lobby, he noticed Anson entering an elevator on the opposite side of the lobby. He stepped back inside his elevator as two women carrying briefcases and coffee cups got in. As the doors closed on Anson's elevator, he pushed the door hold, excused himself, stepped out and left the building.
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If you focus on the money and arms, you might find a way out of this.
Instead of returning to the CIA office, Michael left for the hospital. Fiona was going to relieve Raines' wife who would need to return to her hotel to rest. Jesse had gone to work but would be leaving to spend the afternoon sitting with Pearce. It was a fortunate circumstance because it gave him the breathing room he needed to absorb and reassess everything he'd just learned.
Sometimes all it took was one piece of information to turn everything upside down. He needed to evaluate, organize and dissect this new knowledge. Before he could do anything else, he had to try to grasp the size of the problem. He needed time.
He was aware of how painful the time he'd spent clasped in Anson's iron claw had been, and found himself wondering if he could have lived with for a decade? He found himself offering silent gratitude to Fiona for her brave and bold act, for the selfless, loving gift that saved him. Had saved them.
He felt the weight of all he owed her, and, now, what he owed to Raines' former partner.
The man had been protecting them all.
He'd interceded in ways that buffeted each them from Anson, and in highly intelligent ways Anson and Management wouldn't expect or understand.
Raines and his wife were leaving as he arrived at the hospital. He could see Raines was full of questions, questions he wasn't prepared to answer, so he focused on his wife who did not appear to be feeling well.
"Hey, there. Heading back?" Michael asked. "You look tired."
"I am, but it's good tired," she said. "Dani's awake, but she might not be by the time you get up there."
"Westen, when can we talk?"
"When we have some privacy. Jesse's office?"
"He'll be here soon," Raines said. "You okay?"
"Fine. We'll set something up. Don't you have those meetings with the DEA and Homeland today?"
Raines was distracted then by his wife leaning heavily on his arm. "Yes. Get with Jesse, and call me, all right?"
"Will do," Michael agreed.
He couldn't mask his introspective mood when he arrived at Pearce's room, but he did a passable job of offering a welcome to her. She was sitting up and looking a lot healthier than she had been while she was sleeping.
Fiona was sitting in the chair next to the bed chatting with her. Pearce was propped up, resting on pillows, and disconnected from the medical devices that had been monitoring her the past several days.
"It's good to see you up," he said as he approached the bed to take her hands in his. "I hope you heal fast, Dani. We're going to need your help. What you did, for saving Jesse, thank you."
She smiled, and seemed a bit embarrassed by his praise. "I'm not really the type of person who makes a good patient, so I hope I can get out of here soon." She paused and looked down at his hands, then smiled. "And congratulations, Michael."
Michael glanced at Fi. "She knew what the Claddah meant," she said with a smile as she joined him and he wrapped his arm around her. "I told her we haven't told anyone."
"I understand," Pearce said. "So no one's noticed? Your ring? Hmm. That was the only thing Janssen and I ever disagreed about."
"Has Jesse been here?" Michael wondered, changing the subject he suspected could grow uncomfortable.
Fi smiled. "Not yet, but I told him when he called a little while ago, so I expect he'll be here soon."
As if he was conjured, Jesse appeared at the door. He glanced at Fiona and Michael and then at Pearce.
Fi walked back to the chair to retrieve her purse, and tugged Michael's hand toward the door. "Call me when you need a break, Jess. See you later, Dani."
Out in the hall Michael glanced down. "What was that about?"
"I just know we don't need to be there. So, how was your meeting?"
"Confusing, Fi."
"Good. Let's go home and you can tell me all about it."
"We need to go to a hardware store first."
Fi grinned. "That sounds like something married people do."
Michael sighed. "Or spies."
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"Pearce, what the hell were you thinking?" Jesse wanted to know.
After Michael and Fi left the room he walked over and closed the door before turning back to the bed. "You nearly died."
She seemed baffled by his aggressive attitude. "I don't know. It seemed the right thing to do at the time."
"You saved my life, you know that, don't you?"
"You are upright and standing in front of me and obviously alive because you're yelling at me. And I can see there's some kind of bandage there under your shirt, so you got hurt, too. Yes, I can see that you are alive."
She had been awake for several hours; she had talked with doctors, nurses, Raines' wife and Fiona, and Michael and now, that Jesse was here, she was weary. And safe.
She closed her eyes briefly. A few moments later, she would swear someone kissed her forehead. And then she didn't think about anything for five hours. And when she woke, she glanced over and saw him in the chair, his head bent at an uncomfortable angle, hands clasped over his stomach, long legs sprawled in front, soundly sleeping. And she smiled. There really was nothing painful about looking at Jesse Porter, awake or asleep.
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When he finished adding simple locks to the windows, he stepped out on the front porch, withdrew the slug of mail spilling out of the mailbox intended for the teacher whose house they were leasing. The yard had been freshly mowed, a service included with the lease to be in compliance with the neighborhood association.
He was counting on neighborhood watch folks to provide another level of security. Nothing was quite so helpful to ensure a level of freedom from anxiety as a nosey neighbor. Inside, he finished the brace-locks for the sliding glass door, and the removable brace for the front door. Simple, effective and cheap but far from foolproof; everything he installed was just another way to provide a warning.
If someone wanted inside, there was always a way. All he hoped to gain was to accentuate the warning system Jesse's wicked wireless device offered.
Fi had been sitting outside, enjoying the late afternoon sun. After he was finished, he joined her, and brought her a glass of iced tea and one for himself.
She glanced over at him. "Are you finished fixing and brooding?"
"I wasn't . . ."
She stopped him with a look.
"Okay, I was."
She sat up, took the glass of tea he offered and looked over the top of her sunglasses at him. She didn't say a word, but the invitation was there.
He could read the confusion in her eyes, and to take that away he told her what he'd learned during the twenty minute meeting that turned so many things upside down. When he finished, he turned to her.
"You can't tell anyone this, Michael. It'll endanger him."
"I know."
He could feel her watching him, and glanced back to see concern in her expression.
"Michael?"
He reached and grasped her hand. "I was just thinking that he's a lot like me . . . only he doesn't have someone like you to save him."
The moment was interrupted when his phone rang. He reached into his jeans pocket, glanced at the caller ID and opened his phone. "Hey, Raines. Yeah, all right. Sure. We'll be there."
As they entered the back door into the kitchen from the patio area, Michael took Fi's glass and his and set them down together on the counter before reaching for her and pulling her against him.
He held her carefully as if he might break her, and lowered his head to kiss the sweet crevice between her chin and her neck. "Thank you for saving me, Fi."
She turned and looked into his eyes and raised her lips to his. "We'll end this, Michael. I know we can."