“I’m not going to contact your people and demand ransom. I’m going to contact your people and demand loyalty. You’re going to help me.”
“I won’t.”
“Adam Reynolds, he’s found ten of your people. I’d like to know how many of them you have total. I’m guessing twenty to thirty. Former and discredited CIAs, maybe a few former KGBs who want to live and work in Europe and Asia, a hacker and a thief thrown in for good measure that you’ve recruited.”
She watched the tabletop.
“I could torture you,” he said, “but, God, it’s just so distasteful and ineffective. And I’d probably end up killing you-you’d lead me down several false paths, I’m sure, and I know my own temper well enough to know I’d kill you in a rage.” He offered her a smile that reminded Jackie of a fracture in a window.
“What do you want?” she said finally.
“I want the names and details of everyone who works for you in your private little CIA, Teach. Every account you have. Every resource you have.”
“This is the part where I tell you to go to hell, I think,” she said.
“Hell is crowded,” he answered. He clicked on the laptop, opened a video chat file.
The screen kicked to life. It showed a young man in his late twenties, bound to a chair, mouth gagged. His eyes were blackened, as though he had been beaten already, a dried trickle of blood inching down his chin, past the gag. He blinked into the camera, flinching at the harsh light on his face.
“He used to be Antonio De La Pena,” Hector said. “Ex-CIA field operative, missing and presumed dead after a botched job against narco-terrorists in Colombia. His cover was blown and he had nowhere to go except witness protection, but you made him a better offer. He’s worked under about three different aliases for you, most recently in Mexico City.” Hector leaned closer to Teach. “You’re going to cooperate, or he pays.”
“Cooperate.” She said the word as though she were testing its taste in her mouth.
“You’re going to come to work for me, Teach. You and everyone in the Cellar. You’ll follow my orders without question. You will not let any of your agents know that there has been a change in leadership. If you do not cooperate, I will expose your entire illegal operation. The government will disavow you like you’re lepers and probably most of your people will end up in those lovely foreign prisons in those delightful countries where you’ve made so much mischief over the years.”
Teach did not tense her shoulders; she did not tremble.
“Tell me the ten you know,” she said.
Hector rattled off a list of names. Teach closed her eyes, bit her lip. She nodded toward the screen. “Why grab him?”
“He’s the youngest and most inexperienced. If I have to kill one to prove a point, he’s the most expendable.” Hector shrugged. “Purely a business decision.”
“I take my orders from very few people,” she said. “I can’t fool them by taking orders from another source.”
“Let me guess. The president.”
She shook her head. “No. The president never knows about us to preserve deniability. A senior cadre of career officers within the Agency-they give me direction.”
“You’ll continue to take their direction and will report to me all the orders you receive from Washington. But you will work for me. Not them.”
“And if I decline?”
“De La Pena dies. After I’ve killed his whole family.” Hector crossed his arms. “He has a mother, two sisters with husbands, who have five children between them.” He glanced at Jackie. “Jackie, could you kill a kid?”
“I don’t much like kids,” Jackie said. “I’d be game. Probably pays less, though, since they’re easier.”
“I’d give you a family rate.” Hector turned back to Teach. “None of your people want to be exposed, want to go to prison, want to be disavowed and prosecuted by the government they serve. But they certainly don’t want the people they cared about in their previous lives to be dead because of them. You either work for me, or I’ll gut the Cellar.”
She said nothing, watching De La Pena on the screen. The man closed his eyes above the gag.
“We’ll tell De La Pena that this was a training exercise. I’ll let you live, and a lot of innocent people keep breathing.”
Teach was silent and Hector seemed willing to wait her out. Finally she said: “What do you get out of this arrangement?”
“I’m a firm believer that private firms are more effective than government agencies,” Hector said.
“Not in our line of work,” she said.
“Spoken like a true bureaucrat.” He opened a folder. “Two months ago you had a chance to kill a leading terrorist in Istanbul. But you missed. Three weeks ago you flub an opportunity to destroy a narco-terrorism cell in Ecuador. Not inspiring.”
Anger reddened her face. “Those failures had nothing to do with the skills of my people.”
“Under my guidance, you won’t make so many mistakes.”
“Who hired you?” she asked and Jackie thought, Ah, now that’s a million-dollarquestion.
“No one.”
Her laugh was brittle. “Contractors don’t work for free.”
“I’m making an investment in my company’s future. And I’m going to pay you and your people, Teach, better than the government ever did.” He knelt close to her, lifted her chin with his fingertips. “The fact you recruited and maintained an off-the-books organization for so long is brilliant. You have the Cellar’s collective history in that librarian’s head of yours. You know every detail of every agent, of every job. I need you. We can do great, great work for our country together. I don’t want to destroy your group. I want to give it new life.”
“You tried to kill Pilgrim.”
Sam Hector smiled at Jackie. “He got too close to Adam Reynolds. It was nothing personal.” And Jackie saw that yes it certainly was personal, a flash in the man’s eyes as he turned away from Teach. Interesting.
“Let’s not leave your poor guy in suspense, Teach,” Hector said. “Does his family live or die?”
“Live,” she said. She cupped her hand on her forehead, as though a migraine bloomed behind the bone. “I’ll cooperate.”
“Good. Jackie, Mr. De La Pena is in the next room. Would you please untie him from the chair and bring him in here. You can tell him this kidnapping was a field exercise, one that he failed.” He watched Teach for a reaction.
“I have a job for him and for Teach, and several other agents.” He leaned close to Teach. “You have an agent in Denver. Get him to Dallas by early morning tomorrow. Then we need to select at least six others for another project. You tell him or your people anything, they and their families are dead.”
“Project,” she said.
“The Cellar’s going to kill a group of very bad guys for me,” he said. “In New Orleans.”
Khaled’s Report-New Orleans
There are six of us now in New Orleans-preparing for our moments of glory.
Six of us passed the first test, to enter America without being caught. I suppose our bosses could have easily snuck us in across the Mexican border in the dead of night, but they clearly want to weed out those who lack daring or are ineffective.
The unspoken deal is if I’m caught, I’m on my own. No one will help me.
Two months ago, I followed the instructions in a phone call and in a locker I found a ticket, a thousand euros, and a French passport in a new name for me. I boarded a flight in Beirut to Frankfurt. In Frankfurt a man walked past me and slipped a new ticket and passport into my coat pocket.
First real problem. One does not want to walk around in a Western airport with an Arabic face and multiple passports. I destroyed the first passport by ripping it to bits and flushing the torn strips down the toilet. I used the new Belgian passport and the ticket, flew to Geneva, then to Rome. I picked up a paged message left for me at the airline counter-to meet J at a hotel not far from St. Peter’s Square.
I took a roundabout route to the hotel, thinking I could lose any tracker in the crowds and expanse of the massive square. I was wrong. At the hotel I was told by the fellow they called J-he has the bearing of a math teacher, if you ask me, and I am sure he is reading this-that four men shadowed me, following in a cascade so I
