her ass out of here?’
Brian said, ‘Maybe so. But she’s still going to get caught.’
‘Hell of a large country. Hell of a large world, Brian.’
Brian shook his head. ‘She’s going to get caught. Guaranteed. But one thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘You don’t get first crack at her. I do.’
Monty shrugged. ‘Considering the bitch shot you and all, yeah, I’ll give you that.’
‘Good,’ Brian said. ‘Glad to win one once in a while.’
With less than an hour to go to the Canadian border, Adrianna Scott felt a burning sense of frustration at the news coming from her radio, for it seemed like things weren’t going her way, not at all. As she tried to find a different channel to listen to, there was a roaring noise that made her head snap back and—
A black Kiowa helicopter, landing in the road in front of her, men coming out and—
Somehow, they had something that shattered the windshield and side windows and—
The engine died. She scrambled around, trying to get out, trying to move and—
Black-jumpsuited men were on her, spraying something in her face, something that confused her and made her eyes bum, and now she was on the side of the road, coughing and hacking.
One of the men removed his face mask, knelt down beside her.
‘Adrianna Scott, in the name of the United States of America, I place you under arrest.’
‘But…but…this is a mistake. Look at my driver’s license. My name is Dolores Benjamin. There’s been a mistake!’
Another man came into view, dropped one of her bags on the ground. He poked around in the bag, took out a little pin with a thick metal head on one end.
She instantly recognized it. A Mark 10 tracking device. She looked back at her bag, and—
Now she remembered.
Back at the hotel room, with Brian. When she went into the bathroom the bag had been on the bed.
When she had come out of the bathroom the bag had been on the floor.
Brian had bugged her. The bastard.
The man said, ‘Adrianna Scott, you have the right to—’
‘The name isn’t Adrianna Scott!’ she spat at him. ‘My name is Aliyah Fulenz.’
The man grinned at her as she was helped up and shackles were placed about her ankles and handcuffs on her wrists.
‘Adrianna, Dolores, Aliyah, I don’t give a shit — all I know is that your ass now belongs to us.’
And as she was brought to her feet, the man leaned in and said, ‘You’re ours, princess.’
CHAPTER FORTY
The room had no air-conditioning, and it was stifling hot. Brian Doyle walked in and there she was, sitting in front of him, her hands cuffed to a metal ring centered in the middle of a table. She had on an orange jumpsuit, her hair had been cut short, and her skin was rough. No make-up or beauty products allowed, he thought, as he pulled up a chair and sat across from her.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘Was I that lousy in bed that you had to shoot me afterwards?’
She looked tired, sullen. ‘How long have you been thinking of that little joke?’
‘A while,’ Brian admitted. ‘Thought you’d smile, at least.’
‘You thought wrong.’
‘I guess I did. About a lot of things.’
She moved her hands, the chain clanking some. ‘Why are you here?’
‘To see you, face to face. To ask you why. The usual.’
‘Hah. The usual.’ She leaned forward and said, ‘They showed us a movie the other night. A rare treat, I am told. So what kind of movie did they show us?
‘I can imagine almost anything. But to get back to my original—’
‘No, don’t you see? I am answering your question, Brian. There is a scene in that movie, early on, when Judah Ben-Hur meets an old Roman friend. They talk politics. Ben-Hur talks about his hatred of Rome, and he says, “The day Rome falls, there will be such a shout of freedom across the world…” That’s why I did what I did, Brian. The day America falls, there will be such a shout across this globe, from Pakistan to Russia to France to Vietnam, so on and so on. You have no idea of the hate, the deep and unabiding hatred that so many have for you. Your trade policies destroy small farmers in Kenya and Malaysia. Your chemical companies pollute in countries like India and Zimbabwe. Your media companies turn women around the world into whores. Brian, your America is a large elephant, blundering its way through history, caring not whom you trample, whom you kill, as you pillage and rampage. The world hates you, Brian. The entire world. Don’t you see that?’
Brian looked at that sharp face, wondered how he had ever been attracted to her. ‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘I don’t come from the world. I come from New York City. And if it wasn’t for us, the world would—’
She tried to raise a hand but the chain stopped her. ‘Yes, I know. You are so generous. You are a beacon for the world, the shining example, the shining light of freedom. You defeated fascism, communism, and you fool yourself that you are on your way to defeating radical Islam. But you are so alone… your so-called friends laugh at you, your so-called allies work to make deals with your enemies, all to isolate you, to keep you confused… you are in the throes of destruction, Brian. Like a wounded elephant that is too stupid to know that it’s about to die.’
Brian said, ‘Pretty bold talk for a woman in your position, whatever your name is. We’re an odd country, with even odder people, but we’re resilient. Most of the time we’re underestimated. Ask the Germans. Ask the Japanese. Ask the Russians.’
‘Ah, but look what I did.’
‘And what was that? You gave Wall Street a jolt, bankrupted one company, destroyed four aircraft, directly or indirectly caused the deaths of scores of people…not much return on such a long investment, from when you were a Baghdad teenager. ‘
She smiled. ‘Ah, but enough.’
‘Really?’
‘Truly. Here’s a secret, my friend. You and yours have to be lucky, all the time. All the time. Those who follow me, wherever they are, they just have to be lucky once. And, trust me, they
Brian said, ‘Someone once said that God looks out for fools, drunks, and the United States of America. I like that saying better. And that’s what I’m going to leave you with, Adrianna. Or Aliyah, whichever you prefer.’
He got up, made to leave, and then he turned and said, ‘For what it’s worth, that night we had…’
She shook her head. ‘Spare me, Brian. It was nothing to me. Nothing.’
He said, ‘You know, I almost pity you, Adrianna. You let all that hate eat you up, year after year, crippling you, changing you…You could have done so much with all that strength, all those smarts, if it wasn’t for the hate. Yeah, I almost pity you, Adrianna.’
Brian Doyle leaned forward, over the desk, looking down at her. ‘Almost.’
Then he left.
She waited for the Marine guards to come in and take her back to her cell, and she felt her legs and arms quivering with emotion. The talk with Brian had disturbed her more than she had let on, for she had felt something when she had seen him.
Utter and total defeat.
And as she was finally led back to her cell by the large and unsmiling Marine guards, she tried to apologize again to mama and papa, for letting them down. But strange music distracted her, strange music caused her to
