“I believe you,” Angela said. “All I ask in return is that you would allow us to visit you and your sister more regularly from now on.”
My brother squirmed uncomfortably but said, “Yeah, sure,” before changing the subject. “As soon as Anthony comes back from the bathroom, I’ll have him take me to the precinct. I’ll shower and change, and then meet you guys in the lobby. We’ll meet up with Vanessa afterward. She’ll give you more details.”
The Smiths nodded.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” Charlie said, giving me a quick one-armed hug. “Look after Uncle Vic for me.”
“I will.” Wrapping both arms around his neck, I whispered in his ear, “I’m so proud of you.”
He shrugged me away, red-faced. “Yeah, yeah. Love you too.”
I gave Angela a hug next and wished her luck.
“We’ll see each other again soon,” she murmured into my hair.
“Whatever happens, I’m glad to have met you.” When we pulled away from each other, I smiled at Mr. Smith. “Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank us yet,” he murmured. “There’s no guarantee this will work.”
It had to work. We didn’t have any other ideas.
December 13th, 2005
A bit of shame still resides in me since leaving Africa. We felt like failures. We still do at times. But we’re slowly feeling like ourselves again.
We’ve been staying on one of the islands of Iceland for a few years now. It’s just been the two of us in a small fishing cabin by the shore.
The ocean, the rain, the ice, the cold air have all been so comforting.
This has been the best form of therapy that we can think of for our circumstances. But this therapy, deserved or undeserved, must end sometime. I don’t know when but I feel the time is soon approaching.
Remaining stagnant for more than a few years in one abode has proven problematic in the past. But our setting here on the cold shore has allowed us to feel safe instead of confined. We have been working with people for far too long. We “burnt out” as the saying goes. And solitude has calmed our aching souls.
But it’s been long enough. We are nomads, after all. Always moving.
I know that, were we mortals in these times, settling down would be a far more desirable goal, having only a few years to spend.But in eternity, staying in one place indefinitely is not desirable.
No. It is time to go.
Chapter 39
Charles
I sat in the squad van which had been disguised as a plumber’s van and had been parked around the corner from the Velazquez couple’s only known residence. Vanessa sat beside me, hands over her ears as if that would amplify the sounds coming from her headset and further block out the rest of the world.
Vanessa and I were pretty much cool now. Not only had she worked her ass off to submit all the paperwork to get this sting approved in record time, but she had hand selected every member of her squad. And they were all the best in their field. Everything had been done as quietly as possible. We hadn’t forgotten that there was a spy in the precinct, who had probably been reporting our progress to the Velazquez couple—Velazquezes?—since the case had begun. Only the captain, Vanessa, the Smiths, and I knew all the details of this mission; the other members of the team thought we were doing a drug bust.
Then Vanessa had asked me to come with her. I wasn’t trained. I wasn’t the least bit qualified. Uncle Vic took me to crime scenes and let me do clerical work on investigations in the precinct, but he never let me do stuff like this. I would be in danger and could prove to be a liability. Vanessa didn’t seem to care when I’d pointed it out to her.
“It’s for Victor,” she’d said. “I’d be pissed if the roles were reversed and nobody asked me to come along to see this through.”
So, yeah, we were cool. For life.
A sniper positioned across the street from the Velazquez house had a narrow view of the inside. He murmured updates to us every now and then, acting as a sports announcer of sorts. Thanks to the wires hidden in the Smiths’ jacket collars, we heard everything. I had a pretty good idea of what was going on even though I couldn’t see anything.
The Smiths rang the doorbell. Mrs. Velazquez answered with a gleeful shriek. As if they were two puppies who had run away and finally come home. Angela started the waterworks almost immediately, apologizing for bothering her and begging for just a few moments of her time.
“Of course, darling, of course,” Mrs. Velazquez said and I could almost picture her ushering Mrs. Smith inside with an arm around her shoulders. “Do you need some vodka or whiskey? No, that’s not like you, is it? How about some hot tea?”
The door shut behind them. Their footsteps echoed. It sounded like the floors were made of wood. The house was enormous, that much I’d seen from the outside. Then again, a lot of the houses in this neighborhood were big. The Velazquezes had chosen the right place to hide.
Mrs. Smith poured her heart out to her old friend after Mrs. Velazquez had brought over a hot cup of tea. She crafted a tale where the Wards had come after her and Jerald, thinking they had something to do with the deaths of the campaign staff. She smartly manipulated the police interrogations, making it sound as if the Wards were using the law to bring the Smiths down.
“As if the two of you could hurt a fly,” Mrs. Velazquez said with a tsk and a smile in her voice. It was definitely an insult but the Smiths didn’t take the bait.
“Precisely!” Mrs. Smith said, sniffling. “The police have cleared us, but
