3 Thank God it's Monday (6 page)

E
ilif stared through the glass separating the bank of
computers and instruments from the brightly lit room with simple furnishings
and a solitary chair with straps. Jake sat limp in the chair, his hands and
feet held securely in place by leather and steel.

“He looks totally harmless there in the chair, doesn’t he?”
Clarence asked behind him.

Eilif was irritated that Clarence had shown up just as they
arrived. Giselle was removed and hidden by his team before Clarence could see
her. He could not abide his daughter being used against him like Jake had been.

Eilif tried to swallow his pride, but the thought that
Clarence had been involved with the Mystery Man since the start really brought
out his competitive spirit. Actually, his murder-at-all-cost spirit.

“If we gave him half a chance, he would take out every one
here.”

Clarence scoffed.

“You are beginning to think like an American. He is not
Rambo or Arnold Schwarzenegger. He is human. He can be pumped full of chemicals
like now or pumped full of bullets.”

“You underestimate him. I am surprised you do not have a
greater concern.”

“Oh, he can put a knife where it hurts most. He can twist a
man into a pretzel in four seconds. He has an uncanny ability to move through a
room full of armed men and not get shot. He has instincts for violence and
defense that are finely honed and made even sharper by our treatments.” Clarence
shrugged. “He is the perfect assassin. Especially for our purposes.”

“You know, you make it sound like it was your plan all
along, Clarence.”

Clarence smirked smugly. Eilif wanted to strangle him right
then.

“Of course, we took your initial plan to use Jake to
assassinate his father to even greater use. Your motivation, you have to admit,
is rather petty and vindictive.”

“Killing the most powerful man on earth is petty to you? How
is your plan grander than the one I initiated over ten years ago?” Eilif hated
when he had to raise his voice. It made him seem small and whiny.

Clarence rolled his eyes and sighed.

“You are allowing your emotions to overcome your judgment,
Mr. Nicholaisen. Surely you see that your purpose was completely driven by
personal vendetta, pure and simple. We have taken that plan, genius as it was,
and improved upon it by multiplying the effect and giving it a greater purpose.
Not only do we create a power vacuum that only our consortium can fill, we also
undermine the public opinion of governments worldwide. ‘They cannot protect
you,’ we will say. ‘They are only interested in your money and your votes. ’  ‘They
only want to control you. ’  ‘Here, look, we have the key to world hunger,
clean drinking water, security, the cure for cancer, the cure for this terrible
disease that is running rampant. Only we can help you. Only we can help the
world find peace and prosperity.’ We will suck them in and then we will truly
have the rule for the first time in centuries. We should never have
relinquished it in the first place.”

“Very melodramatic, Clarence. I think you are over reaching.”

“Perhaps
you
are underestimating
us
, Eilif.” Clarence
looked at him, his smugness and superiority emanating from him like a beacon. “I
thought you were on our side, Eilif. One of us. Were we wrong?”

Eilif swallowed his anger. He pushed down on the fear that
wrenched at him, realizing that his words and attitude were necessary to keep
his head above the waters that threatened to drown him. He thought he had
control. The longer he hitched his wagon to these mongrels, the more he
realized he had made a mistake. It did not matter. To resist would have meant
death or worse anyway. He did not have a choice. You were either for them or
against them.

“Of course not,” he said gruffly. “I simply want credit
where credit is due.” He pointed to Jake through the glass. “The first tool in
our plan is my brain child.”

“Don’t get too confident, Eilif. Understand that our plan
will be initiated whether we have Jake available or not. Timing is everything. We
cannot allow the election to take place. We need President Vine removed
immediately so that we can move forward. We need to leave the world with no
choice. It has to happen soon.”

“We will have to run some tests. We are safe here. It will
buy us some time to make sure there are no mistakes this time.”

Clarence turned his attention to the bank of computers. The
technicians had been relieved of their duties for the night. The monitors were
on auto-pilot.

“There can certainly be no more errors. I am now in charge
of ensuring that the American portion of this operation succeeds. I will not
allow failure,” Clarence said.

He kept his back to Eilif. Eilif bristled at his gall.
He
was in charge?
He
would not allow failure?

“What could go wrong?” Eilif asked, grasping at a response
that would hide his contempt, his anger, and his hurt pride.

Clarence turned to him, a quizzical look on his face.

“Really? ‘What could go wrong?’ First of all, Jake can
resist your programming. Despite your best efforts, he can spoil this most
important mission. Second of all, you can have a change of heart and allow your
daughter to continue to live, disregarding a direct command. Third of all, you
can continue to pretend you have it all together when we all know you are
falling apart. Your entire organization is in shambles. Your inner sniping
between executives, your questionable loyalties, your shady dealings with terrorists
and drug cartels, and even your vaunted real estate holdings are all coming
apart at the seams, like an over-worn garment. What could go wrong? You can
continue to question me as though I am your employee.”

“Who do you think you are?” Eilif asked, seething.

Clarence turned and grabbed Eilif by his ascot, pulling it
from his inner vest.

“Not some bloody pretender, that is for certain,” he said,
his lips in a snarl of anger and disdain. The knife he held at Eilif’s gut was
short but double-edged and almost two inches wide.

Eilif backed up, sweat beading his upper lip, his eyes
distended. He would never have imagined Clarence reacting violently. He was
such a proper gentleman. And the veiled threat about Giselle. That had almost
stopped his heart.
He knew!

“Sinegem is not entirely my mistake!” He proffered.

Clarence’s eyes darted from the knife to Eilif’s vest. Eilif
stood, his hands out in a warding gesture, his chest heaving in panic.

“That is true. Mr. Chen is mostly responsible for that mess.
Maybe I am placing too much blame at your feet, Mr. Nicholaisen. You are merely
a stakeholder who has been allowed a voice. Understand, though, that we will
allow no such error of judgment in the Coalition.”

“Of course not. You have my loyalty,” Eilif said, his voice
coming out in a squeak. He had to stop himself from saying,
you have my
fealty.

The knife disappeared. So did the demon that had inhabited
the body of Clarence. That was surely what had transpired, Eilif thought. His
eyes had seemed to glow red, his nostrils to smoke, and his body to grow taller
and broader as he had threatened him. Now the physically meek and calculating
Clarence had returned, his manners perfect, his voice sounding superior rather
than threatening.

“If only we could ensure that loyalty, Mr. Nicholaisen. Alas,
we only have words. Of course,” he glanced behind him, a smile edging at his
thin, pursed lips, “we can always manufacture loyalty to some degree, I suppose.”

The threat was not lost on him. He could feel his hands tremble
with rage and fear. To lose control to a man he felt was inferior was one thing
and to be threatened with a total lack of control was another entirely.

“That will not be necessary. Proof of my loyalty will be
provided once Mr. Monday has performed his mission.”

“How can we know that is loyalty, Eilif? Does it not still
fulfill your dream of vengeance against Gabriel Vine? And how exactly do we
interpret the further existence of your daughter? She was not in the lab at
Galbraith. She was not at the facility at Sinegem. Is that what passes for
loyalty these days?” He wiped his hands with a pocket kerchief and smiled
gently.

“I don’t know...”

“Of course you don’t,” Clarence snapped, turning away. He
opened the door.

Giselle stood there flanked by two of his security personnel.

Eilif was stunned, his mouth agape. He could not move. He
felt his knees weaken and his hands wrench against the table behind him for
balance.

“How did she...” he began, already forming lies and denials in
his head. He had never been an effectual liar. He dealt in truths, even when
those truths hurt.

“Oh, do not worry, my dear Mr. Nicholaisen. We are fully
aware of your love for your daughter. Why else would you subject her to these
petty games of vengeance and incest? What? You did not know that we were aware
of her lineage?” Clarence traced the lines of Giselle’s cheek and stared at
Eilif. “Why, the bones!  The fine-china complexion!  The absolute class and sexual
energy. Those could only be traits she received from her mother, Barbara Vine. Or
should I say Barbara Monday?” He glanced at Jake in the next room.

“Let me ask, though:  did you tell Giselle this truth? Surely
she would have wanted to be reunited with her mother, the great Barbara Monday.
Why not? Barbara was philanthropic, she supported the arts, she gave to the
poor, she championed the little guy, and she fought the kind of corrupt bureaucracy
that her husband served. And she paid the price, didn’t she?”

Eilif felt his lip trembling. He did not want to answer. He
knew he would sound petulant, fearful, or resentful. He would certainly not
sound loyal. He kept his eyes on the men beside Giselle. They seemed placid,
peaceful, their rifles at the ready. They wore no emotion. It was then that he
understood.

“You have enthralled all of our forces, haven’t you?” It
came out as accusation, much to his displeasure. He cringed as he asked the
question. Clarence seemed not to mind, though. He seemed absolutely giddy.

“Why yes. We did. It was quite the feat, I must admit. There
were so many. Several resisted, I am afraid.” He looped a finger around in a
circle near his head, the kerchief dangling from his fingers, a wicked smile
across his face, “Tends to scramble the insides when they do that, doesn’t it? Bloody
mess, really.” He shrugged. “I suppose we win some and we lose some.” He
glanced back at Giselle. “Did she, you know,
resist
?” He asked, a look
of fake horror mocking Eilif.

“It is a stasis program. She is functioning normally but
cannot speak or act on her own.”

Clarence nodded in appreciation.

“Well yes. I see now. Well, it looks as though she has wet
herself. How embarrassing. Perhaps this program needs some modification.”

“She is scared,” Eilif said defensively.

“Scared? Well, I suppose that would be an appropriate
response to death.”

“What are you going to do?” Eilif asked. He was desperate. He
was almost sitting on the chrome and maple table behind him. His legs could no
longer support him.

“Good question, Mr. Nicholaisen. Maybe that should have been
your first response. Perhaps we could have dispensed with much of this...unsavory
behavior.”

“You have my loyalty. I will...”

“We don’t need your loyalty. I thought you knew that by now.
Tsk. Tsk.” His voice was high-pitched and grating. “But, rest assured, Eilif. I
think we can find some creative uses for your good daughter. Maybe when this is
all settled, we can tell her the truth. How would you like that? Some
father-daughter time where your daughter learns of your manipulation of her
life, of your lies, your betrayal, and your petty revenge for a woman who used
you for your wealth and your political ties in Europe.”

“I will not allow you to talk about Barbara like that!”

Clarence looked shocked.

“I was not aware that I needed your permission. I will leave
you here now to your pet project. See to it that the testing goes well. I will
leave you in the good hands of our newest recruits. It seems they have a high
level of loyalty. The kind that even money cannot buy.” He raised his eyebrows.
“I have to say that I am most impressed, really. It is shame you cannot have
more credit.”

With that, Clarence turned and began to walk back toward the
door.

“Wait!  What about Giselle?”

Clarence shrugged.

“She will not be faking her loyalty, I am sure. We will just
manufacture it.”

H
allie waited impatiently for the elevator door to open. She
did not want to be in New York. She had no choice. She knew of nowhere else to
go. She could have called.
Should
have called. It was late. Barney at
the front desk said that, to his knowledge, Mr. Evers had not left. Hallie had
waited forty eight hours and then when she did not hear from Jake, she went
into action.

Of course, the burner cell phone was disconnected. She had
no other way to track Jake. Kyle was the only one she could ask. She was not
sure she could even trust him.

Finally, the chime sounded and the doors opened. Immediately,
she could tell something was wrong. A light flickered at the end of the hall
and papers littered the receptionist’s lobby.

She pulled her sidearm from beneath her jacket and leaned
against the wall. She controlled her breathing and listened carefully. All she
could hear at first was an electronic buzzing. She resisted the urge to cry out
for Kyle.

Then she heard a groan. Hallie crouched down low and crept
down the hall toward the lobby, her eyes scanning ahead. Her heart pounded in
her chest.

The glass entry was broken, the glass scattered on the floor.
Hallie was glad she did not take off her heels. The glass crunched under her
shoes and she grimaced. She worried that whoever had attacked the office was
still here. She would rather have the element of surprise.

In the back of her mind she was dreading having to use her
weapon again. She knew it was necessary, but she was still recovering from the
psychological scarring of taking a life. Two. She gripped the SIG Sauer
tighter, confident in her ability to use it, but anxious.

Hallie ducked behind the receptionist’s desk, avoiding the
glass from the entry and putting her back against the wall. It was darker here
and she was afforded a great view out into the cubicles and offices beyond. No
one stirred. The only lights on were the running lights along the center to
illuminate the cubicles.

The groan came again. It was originating from the office
closest to the waiting area. Kyle’s office. She took a deep breath and raced as
quietly as she could across the carpet to the doorway. With her back to the
wall, she breathed slowly through pursed lips. She used one hand to pat her
handbag in her pocket. It held a spare magazine.

Hallie counted to three and pivoted quickly into the open
doorway. She was immediately assaulted with the musky-pungent, iron-rich scent
of blood. The floor was covered in a large pool of it.

Kyle lay draped over the desk, his face a mask of pain. He
licked his lips and groaned again. A red stain blossomed on the front of his
shirt and his right arm seemed twisted at an impossible angle.

Then she saw the other body at Kyle’s feet. A small man in a
dark, tight-fitting outfit. One that she imagined that Jake wore from
time-to-time as an assassin. His face was not visible, but she could tell by
the back of his skull that he was East Asian. What appeared to be a Yakuza
tattoo curled up around the base of his neck and down one exposed arm.

The blood on the floor was mostly his.

Hallie used her foot to turn him over. His eyes were glazed
over and his mouth slack. The blood was coming from his head. Something had
caved in the front of his skull, bone fragments and brain matter were plastered
to the carpet where his head lay. Hallie tried to contain her bile. She put a
hand to her mouth and began to wretch.

“No stomach for it, Monday?” Kyle asked. His laugh was
punctuated by coughs and a grunt as he sat up.

He held a bloody paperweight in his good hand. The other
hand was misshapen, the thumb pulled back at a sharp angle and his index finger
severed. The shoulder and elbow had been broken or dislocated.

Kyle caught her staring.

“He must have thought I was right handed,” he chuckled
wickedly. Coughed again. Blood spattered onto his shirt. “Ugh. I think he still
killed me,” he admitted. He kicked the assassin in the chest, rolling him over
onto the floor onto his back.

“We need to get you to a doctor,” Hallie said. She did not
holster her pistol.

Kyle looked at her, pointed to the pistol in her hand with
his eyes.

“You don’t trust me?”

She felt like crying.

“I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

“Fair enough. Do you think they would send someone like him
to kill someone like me if I wasn’t someone you could trust?”

“Why didn’t you tell Jake about Camilla?” she asked. She
fought the accusative tone in her voice. If Kyle was right, it would be unfair
for his last breaths be spent in an interrogation.

She had to control herself. She was on the edge of crying. That
would ruin it. With men, sometimes a well-placed cry could move mountains. Other
times, crying was a trigger for men to dismiss everything you were saying.

He shook his head as if drugged, his eyes closing in slow
motion.

“He was too vulnerable. I could not tell him yet. He was
processing too much too fast. He hadn’t even come to grips with almost killing
his father.” He spoke as if in a dream.

“Kyle. Wake up.” Hallie fought the urge to shake him. “Jake
didn’t know that Gabriel was the President. He didn’t know it was his father. How
did that not ever come up?”

Kyle opened his eyes, his body swaying. He put the hand with
the bloody paperweight on the desk for support. He breathed heavily.

“Oh. Well. That explains a lot. It never came up directly. We
can watch the footage again. We kept things formal out of respect. You know,
called him President or Commander in Chief. Things like that. Professional. We
did it all professional. Out of respect.” Kyle coughed again. He seemed genuine.
He was dying. Who lied when they were dying?

“We have to get you to the hospital, Kyle. Come on.” She
grabbed him under an arm.

He shook her off.

“No. It’s too late. You can’t waste any time. Jake is in
danger. They have him.”

“Who? Who has him?”

Kyle closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Them. We don’t know who they are. No names. We have a code
for them. Them. Very powerful. More than money. More than murderers. We think
they have infiltrated the government.”

“Who is we? Infiltrated where?”

“We. We are the government. The Service. The CIA. NSA. FBI. The
Senate. Even Gabriel.”

“Gabriel? What do you mean?”

Kyle coughed again. This time his body seemed to shake and
he began to collapse. Hallie caught him under an arm again and lifted him up,
her hand bringing his chin up so she could look him in the face.

“Kyle!  Talk to me. Jake is in danger. Gabriel is one of
them...”

“No. Gabriel is one of us. We. We. We might fail. We might
not be able to protect him anymore. Not from Jake. Not from anyone. It is
bigger than that even.”

“Do you mean the Consortium?”

He perked up at that.

“How do you know?” He asked, lucidity coming back slowly,
like a body drifting back to the surface of a lake.

“Senator Swane.”

Kyle smiled. Blood stained his lips.

“There are some heroes in the world still.” He struggled to
sit back on the desk. “Just let me sit for a while. It hurts too much to stand.”

“What did he do to you?”

He laugh-coughed.

“What didn’t he do? Crazy son of a....” he spit a red glob
onto the floor at the assassin’s feet. “I think he broke a rib and punctured a
lung, maybe more. Broke at least four fingers, my elbow.” He indicated his
right arm. “Messed that up pretty well. Had me screaming my mother’s name at
one point I think. Man, I am such a wimp,” he lamented.

Hallie patted him on the back.

“No. You are brave. A hero. We owe you big time, Kyle.”

He looked at her, his eyes sad and remorseful.

“You don’t owe me anything, Hallie. You were right not to
trust me. We were using both of you. After Jake went dark, we used you. We
shared Jake’s information. We augmented his programming ourselves.”

“Lars?” Hallie felt the old anger swelling to the surface
and she fought it back.

“Yes. We were working with the CIA finally. It was supposed
to be a joint operation.”

“Violet?”

“Yes.” He swallowed. “They were turned on us. The
information was going both ways. We knew, but we wanted to know who was pulling
the strings because it wasn’t Galbraith.”

“What do you mean?”

He shook his head.

“We never found out.” His chin slumped to his chest and his
breathing came slower. “I guess we will never know. Please forgive me, Hallie.”
He never looked up. His life just wound down slowly.

Hallie stood in front of Kyle, lifting his chin.

“Kyle!  Where did they take Jake? You have to tell me.”

She watched Kyle make an effort to pull himself out of the
dive.  She could see the light leaving his eyes like water going down a drain.

“He put the information on a flash drive. In his pocket. I
have all kinds of stuff on there about them. I couldn’t understand it all.” He
said. His voice was just a whisper now. “Colorado Springs. He may be gone now,
though.”

“Gone where?”

“DC. Maryland, maybe?”

“They want Jake to murder his father?”

“I guess that is easy to figure out for everyone but him. He
can’t though,” Kyle said, his voice winding down like his batteries were dying.

Hallie blinked away tears. Was she crying for Kyle or for
Jake? Both?

She grabbed the wrist of his good arm. No pulse. Hallie
called security and exited the building under the cover of emergency personnel.
Someone would have to call Maddy, Kyle’s wife. Someone would have to do a crime
scene investigation. Someone would play back the recording from the cameras. She
only had so much time.

It was up to her. It had always been up to her. She
extracted $2,000 cash from her credit card. She would visit her bank tomorrow
and withdraw the remaining $4,500 savings. She hoped that her Agency-issued
card would work one last time.

Hallie was grateful when the attendant at LaGuardia allowed
her to book her flight to Washington with the Agency Visa. She passed security
with her badge, smiling politely at the TSA official. The smile was not
returned.

Her JetBlue flight didn’t leave for three more hours so she
visited Bijoux Terner and got a new handbag, a scarf, and a beret. She pulled
her hair back and looked at herself in the mirror. She added some heavier
makeup to hide her eye color and changed out of her blouse and discarded her
blazer. The skirt would just have to do. She bought a t-shirt and a new pair of
sandals from “Life is Good.”  What a joke!  She was tired of the heels, anyway.

Finally, she got a sandwich from Angelina’s Paninis and
settled down to wait in the bright chairs, staring out into the darkness and
blinking lights. She debated who she could trust to call. Should she risk
everything and ask for help? Would the senator keep sticking his neck out for
them? She decided it was up to her. Jake was her responsibility. She just
wished she knew where he was.

She thought back to Kyle. He had died so inelegantly. Her
fingerprints were everywhere. She worked there, so that would not be abnormal. But
she had checked in at the desk. She was certainly on camera. Her voice surely
was recorded on the security tapes when she called it in.  

She could not afford to worry about those things. She tried
to distract herself.

Hallie glanced up at one of several large flat screens. CNN
was on. Something was happening. Further down the terminal she could hear an
echo of a set that had the sound turned up. Several travelers were gathered
around the set in a semi-circle.

She considered just sitting still and maybe getting a
snooze, but some dark premonition made her get up and walk up to the group, her
eyes taking in the spectacle on the television.

“...the embassy was attacked at approximately 6:20 am. Only
service personnel were present at time. US consulate offices, CDC, and INL
personnel have been taken to a secure location. The attack is believed to be
orchestrated by a terrorist group tied to Islamic extremists. Connections to
drug trafficking have also been suspected. US officials have no comment at this
time...”

Hallie reached forward and tapped an older gentleman on the
shoulder. He turned, his eyes quizzical.

“Where is this?” Hallie asked.

“South Sudan American Embassy.” He turned back to the news.

Hallie tried to do the math. Was Sudan eight hours ahead?
Six?

“...No word officially from President Vine, but Niles Trent,
his press secretary has hinted at a press conference perhaps in the morning. This
is the third major attack this year in South Sudan. In May, Lebanese ambassador
Fadi Hajjar, was attacked by Hezbollah militants in Juba, setting off a
firestorm of support for Jewish residence in Sudan. Speaking for the...”

Of course
, Hallie thought.
A press conference. They
have infiltrated the press
. At least now she knew where she would be able
to find Jake.