seemed reasonable in his own mind, but that was only because the Spaniard’s sense of reason had been twisted, warped by eight years of grief for the loss of his eldest daughter and fear for the one he still had left. His actions would probably seem just as incomprehensible to Petain as they did to Kealey.
“I don’t know what it cost you,” Petain was saying. At this, Kealey felt his stomach clench, but he tried not to react. He still couldn’t think about it. He had yet to come to terms with the decision he’d made at the substation, and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to.
“But I’m grateful,” Petain said. “I really am.”
He looked at her. There were no tears in her eyes; that was the first thing that struck him. She was completely composed, and that, he had to admit, was an amazing thing. Javier Machado had clearly misjudged his daughter; Kealey had never been more certain of anything. He sensed that she would be able to hold her own on any undercover assignment; she was easily one of the strongest people he’d ever known.
And that, he suddenly realized, was just another thing that could be traced back to her sister’s death. He had never seen a family so thoroughly destroyed by one incident. He didn’t understand the internal dynamics—he had never been especially close with his own family—but one thing was clear: there was a lot of pain running below the surface with all of them, and that was something he
“What did it cost you, Ryan?”
The question was nearly inaudible, but it shook him, and she saw his reaction. Kealey wanted to pretend that he hadn’t heard, but they both knew that he had. He looked into her eyes for a long moment, then looked past her without answering. A car had just emerged from the trees and was coming down the hill. Kealey could see a familiar face behind the wheel.
“Looks like it’s time to go,” he said.
She turned to look at the approaching vehicle. “I guess you’re right.” And to Kealey’s relief, she left it at that. Walland was the man behind the wheel. He pulled up 10 feet behind the Subaru and shut down the engine. As the 4 men climbed out of the vehicle, Kealey reached into one of the holdalls and pulled out a pistol, a compact Beretta 9mm. He handed it to Petain, along with two full magazines.
“What is this for?” she asked. She tapped the butt of the Makarov, which was tucked into the top of her linen pants, as if to remind him that she still had it.
“Just in case,” he told her.
She accepted the weapon as the rest of the team approached. Kealey zipped up the holdall he’d taken the Beretta from and got to his feet.
“Is this all of it?” Owen asked, gesturing to the six holdalls piled at Kealey’s feet.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“So we’re set?” Owen was looking past them to the unconscious form in the front of the Subaru; clearly, he was uneasy with the whole situation, and Kealey couldn’t really blame him.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Listen, I’ve got to tell you something. . . .”
Kealey briefed the other man quickly on his plan. Petain was going to hold Fahim until they could verify that Mengal, Saifi, and Fitzgerald were all at the house in Sialkot. Then she would call his subordinates and tell them where to find him before leaving the country herself. When he was done with the short explanation, Owen nodded his agreement.
“We need to move,” Kealey told him. “Let’s get the equipment loaded.”
Owen relayed the instructions to Walland. As the former ranger shouldered two of the holdalls and moved to the second car, Owen stepped away to address Manik and Massi, leaving Kealey and Petain alone by the back of the Subaru. They stood there in silence for nearly a minute, but neither felt any particular need to speak. The others, engaged as they were in their separate tasks, didn’t seem to notice the strangely intimate moment. For some reason, Kealey had the sudden sense that she had known all along, that on some level, at least, she knew who had been on the other end of that phone. But he couldn’t ask her, and he doubted she would have admitted to it, anyway.
“Good luck,” she said finally, glancing at him quickly. “I hope you find her.”
Kealey nodded and turned to walk to the second car, but as he reached for the handle on the passenger side, her last words seemed to echo in his head, and he suddenly found himself wondering, looking deeper into her parting statement. Who had she really been talking about? Was it Fitzgerald? He wondered if he was just imagining things, if he was reading too far into what she had just said. He could ask, of course, but what was the point? If she had known all along, would it really make a difference?
what had really transpired at the substation, she was not at fault. Simply put, she wasn’t responsible, and she could not be held accountable for what her father had done.
He could not help but wonder how much she really knew, but Kealey tried to remind himself that it didn’t really matter. Either way, that particular bill would be paid in full. He had already made that promise to himself, and he fully intended to keep it. Moving to the passenger door of the Toyota, he climbed into the car as Owen—who was now behind the wheel—started the engine. As they pulled away, Kealey looked in the rearview mirror and saw Petain looking after them. He watched her as the car rolled over the uneven terrain, and for a few seconds, he thought he felt their eyes connect. Then they passed into the trees, and she disappeared from sight.
CHAPTER 38
SIALKOT • SOUTHERN PORTUGAL
The nightmare was as real as anything she’d ever experienced, and seemingly endless, a sickening montage of fire, blood, and death. It had been playing on a continuous reel in her mind, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not force the images from her subconscious. They seemed to dwell there, in the deep, dark recesses of her imagination; only she knew they were not a creation. Everything she was seeing was real. At least, it had
She didn’t know if she could trust her own thoughts. Was she still sane? It seemed that she was, at least for brief stretches of time. There were short, fleeting moments that seemed to work, times where she found herself able to focus, or at least conjure a lucid thought. But those moments never lasted more than a couple of minutes. Then her rational thoughts would slip away, just out of reach, and she’d begin the long slide back into the abyss. The tape would start again in her mind, and she’d open her mouth to scream, but all she could hear were the sounds of death and destruction: the screech and the sickening thump as the rocket tore into the car; the crack of the shot as it ripped its way through Lee Patterson’s brain, and the nameless woman’s cries for help, which she’d uttered a moment before the Algerian had fired that final, fatal bullet into her pleading face. She could see it, too— an endless display of what had to be hell, or at least the earthly equivalent.
Brynn Fitzgerald wanted it all to stop, but she knew there was no hope of reprieve. If there were any hope at all, she would have gladly endured the pain she was feeling. As it stood, she just wanted it all to end, even if that meant the end of everything. She didn’t want to die, but it seemed like the only escape. She would give anything to know that she had something to look forward to, that there was even the slightest possibility of returning to the world she had once known. If there was only a light at the end of the tunnel, she felt she could go on for as long as she had to. . . .
And suddenly, there was.
“She’s awake,” Said Qureshi announced, stepping back from the bed.
On hearing the words he’d been waiting for, Benazir Mengal moved off the wall of the surgical suite and stepped forward to see for himself. The second surgery—the pericardial window—had ended eighteen hours earlier, and Fitzgerald had been out the whole time. The pain medication, which Qureshi had been administering every couple of hours, had played a part in keeping her under, but much of the sleep was natural as her body worked to regain its strength. At Qureshi’s suggestion, Mengal had ordered a few of his men to bring a bed down from one of the second-floor rooms. They’d set it up in the suite, and once the surgeon was sure she was stable, they’d
