So I went to Hamon with an ultimatum.” Vayl looked at his empty hands, rubbed his fingers together as if he missed the feel of his cane. I realized with a sense of awe that he’d probably held that very item in his hands the night he’d confronted Hamon with his choices. “I told him either he had to let me go. Or I would drape myself with the powers of my supporters and tear him from the center of the Trust like a cancerous tumor.”
“What did he say to that?” Dave prodded.
“He sat back in his throne of a chair, steepled his hands like the mathematics professor he had once been, and said, ‘Dearling boy, I see no need for us to be at odds. Of course you may go.’”
That word “dearling” caught my attention, but before I could figure out where I’d heard it before, Vayl had gone on with his story. “So I packed my bags and took the first ship I could find for New York. Of course Hamon sent hunters after me. It could do his reputation harm if word leaked that one of his own had deserted the Trust.”
“But you killed them,” Dave said, trading a knowing look with me.
“You might call it my introduction to my new career,” Vayl said with a slight nod, his gesture taking in the room but referring to every mission he’d had since signing on with the CIA in 1927. “Of course, it took the government some time to organize a department that could use my particular talents. But when it finally evolved, I became its first staff member.”
I hadn’t known the department Pete now supervised was created around his longest-living and most legendary staff member. But when you thought about it, it made perfect sense.
“That was a pretty slick escape,” said Dave, rubbing his neck as he once had when the Wizard was in charge of him. I could tell by the tone in his voice that he wondered why he hadn’t been able to pull off something similar. Well, hell, if he’d had forty years to plan, maybe he’d have figured something out as well!
Deciding now was the time to make my own exit, I said, “’Scuse me,” as I headed toward the bathroom. When I was safe behind the locked door, thumbing through my short list of numbers, I realized Cole hadn’t contacted me in a while. Did that mean his mission was going well? One could only hope.
My father answered the phone with his usual grumble. “
“It’s good to hear your voice too, Albert. How’s Shelby?”
Shelby is Albert’s nurse, and the main reason the old man still has all his fingers and toes. Though why any diabetic needs another human being to explain the dangers of donuts and hot chocolate to him on a daily basis I still have no clue. “He’s fine. He’s the only person I know who can make a salad that fills me up. Explain that, will ya?”
“I imagine he’s injecting the lettuce with steak and potatoes.”
“That’s what I thought too, but I couldn’t find a trace of either one in there.” He sounded so sincere I nearly laughed. Then I went ahead and let ’er rip. Because only a few weeks before I’d thought I might never hear his voice again.
While I’d been working in Iran, Albert had been hit by a woman driving a minivan as he toured his neighborhood on his new motorcycle. During the time he’d been stuck in Chicago West with tubes sprouting from every orifice, he’d become convinced the woman had hit him on purpose. Especially when she skipped bail. But by the time he and Shelby had driven to my sister’s house in Indy to help us celebrate Easter, his whole thought process had changed. Mine hadn’t.
“Any sign of that driver?” I asked.
“Naw. The cops are baffled. They say it’s like she never existed. Dumbasses.”
“Any more phone calls from nowhere? Ghostly guests?”
“I told you what I saw was probably a morphine hallucination.”
“Look, I’ve got a situation here.” I explained my theory about Dave. “You’ve been in the military forever. Even if you don’t have firsthand experience, surely you know somebody who has an idea how to get him through this. Someone who’s dealt with guys who’ve been taken hostage or spent time as prisoners of war?”
We sat in silence for so long I began to wonder if I’d lost the signal. “Hello?”
“Goddammit, I’m sorry, Jazzy. So sorry to have brought you and your brother to this spot.”
I was so shocked I plopped down on the toilet. Thank God its last user had dropped the lid or I’d have sunk to the bottom. Thing was, Albert didn’t know the half of it. If he had, he’d probably be on his knees blubbering. Yuck. “We’re grown-ups, Dad. If we’d wanted to do anything different, we would’ve.”
He took a breath. I could almost hear him pulling himself together. Old guys pop like bubble wrap. Especially marines. “Yeah, you know what, there are a couple of people I could call.” There, that assured tone in his voice that had gone missing after his forced retirement. It kept me calling him, asking for small favors that others could have done for me. Well, I had to admit, he’d pulled a few strings lately that had helped my missions skip right along.
That’s what I told myself. But there was still a little girl inside me, her swing set virtually hidden behind a tall, green hedge. Usually I could only see the tips of her white shoes and the matching bow in her hair as she pumped her swing high enough to top the shrubbery and shriek a message that might, or might not, be heard over the heavy droning of my heart and its various connections. Just now I actually saw a red curl flutter in the breeze of her whoosh upward as she called out, “Maybe he loves you after all.”
Chapter Fifteen
When I returned to the sitting room the men had stopped talking. It felt like they’d been waiting for me.
“What?” I asked.
“I would like to speak to Blas,” said Vayl. “Can you take me to the place where you found him?”
