Redemption (18 page)

In the aftermath of their arrival, the rest of the team had been almost forgotten about. Debriefings and reports would inevitably come later, but for now they had been given some time to shower, change and rest. It was a temporary reprieve only, but a welcome one.

In a few hours they would be on a flight back to Langley, and once Franklin and the others had finished picking the operation apart, that would be it. He could put the whole thing behind him, and it would be up to Cain to live up to his end of the deal. A whole new chapter of his life was about to open up.

He should have felt elated.

If only it were that easy.

Mason had been hustled away by the base medical teams. It was too early to know the extent of his injuries, but an operating theatre had already been prepared for him. Drake had been assured he would receive the best care possible. He just hoped it would be enough.

Mason was a grown man who had known the risks when he accepted the job, but that knowledge did nothing to assuage the guilt Drake now felt. Whether consciously accepted by both men or not, it was his job to keep the older man safe, to lead him into harm’s way and bring him back unscathed. He had failed in that responsibility, and nothing could change that.

With a sigh, he reached up and turned off the shower tap. The steaming deluge turned into a tepid drip, though it was another thirty seconds or so before he straightened up, wincing with the movement.

Running a hand through his soaking hair, he pulled open the shower door and stepped out onto the tiled floor.

The glass of whisky was still resting on the edge of the sink, half empty. He’d smuggled a bottle on the flight out from Langley, knowing he would need it when the mission was over. His body might have been weary and bruised, but his mind was still wired.

Snatching up the glass, he downed the contents and padded through to the small accommodation room loaned to him by the Elmendorf Base staff. It was a simple affair, with dented plasterboard walls, a narrow steel-framed bed, a desk and chair, and a TV in one corner. Still, it was a whole lot better than a freezing prison cell, he thought with a shudder.

Unzipping his kitbag, he found a change of clothes inside, along with his cellphone. He stared at it for a long moment before finally picking it up and switching it on.

He had poured himself another glass before he found the courage to dial the once-familiar number.

The phone rang and rang with no response. Drake had no idea what time it was in that part of the world, but he guessed it was an unsociable hour.

He was on the verge of hanging up when at last a sleepy voice came on the line. ‘Hello?’

‘Jessica,’ he began hesitantly, not sure what to say.

‘Ryan!’ She was awake in an instant. ‘My God, you haven’t phoned in months. Is everything all right?’

‘Yeah. Yeah … it’s … everything’s fine here.’ He
looked
down at the glass of whisky in his hand, feeling suddenly guilty. ‘What time is it there?’

‘It’s … four in the morning.’

‘Oh, shit, I’m sorry …’

‘You’ve been in Washington for years. Don’t you know the time difference by now?’

Unable to help himself, he downed another gulp. ‘I’m not in DC. I’m in Alaska.’

‘Alaska? What on earth—’

‘It’s work,’ he cut in. ‘My real work, not that bullshit cover they dreamed up.’

‘What do you mean?’

Drake sighed and glanced up at the ceiling, struggling to find a way to say what he’d yearned to say for so long. ‘Jess, I … I haven’t been honest with you. About a lot of things. There’s so much I’ve kept from you, and I told myself it was for your own good. But it wasn’t. It was for mine, because I was afraid of what you’d think if you knew what I really did. I was afraid what you’d think of me.’

He could hear movement at the other end. She was getting out of bed, he knew. Going somewhere she could talk privately. ‘Ryan, look, whatever it is, whatever you’ve done, talk to me,’ she said, her voice quieter now. ‘I’m your sister and I’m here for you, no matter what. You know that.’

‘Yeah.’ His voice was low, roughened by the drink. ‘I know.’

She had always been there for him, even if he hadn’t deserved it.

‘So talk to me,’ she implored him. ‘Whatever you have to say, I promise I’ll listen.’ She hesitated a moment, trying to adopt a lighter tone. ‘It seems like you could use a good listener.’

She was right about that, of course. Drake had no idea how much the other Shepherd team members told their friends and loved ones, whether they confided in any of them or preferred to keep their work to themselves.

He had always chosen the latter, but it was a hard path to take, and getting harder all the time.

‘You know me too well,’ he conceded.

‘You’re not that hard to work out.’ Her words were playful, but her tone wasn’t. ‘So tell me, what are you thinking?’

Even he couldn’t help but smile a little. ‘I’m coming home, Jess.’

It was a good second or two before she could muster a reply. ‘Back to the UK, you mean?’

‘Yeah. For a while, at least.’ After last night’s efforts, he figured Cain and the Agency owed him a couple of weeks’ leave. Anyway, what he had to tell her was no conversation for an open phone line. ‘If you’ll have me, that is?’

‘Of course!’ There was no thought of keeping her voice down this time. ‘You know you’re always welcome here.’

He smiled, but hearing those words made his heart ache. Her voice reminded him of much earlier times. Happier times.

‘I have to take care of a few things here first, but I’ll be in touch soon. Hopefully at a more sociable hour,’ he added, managing to inject a little humour into his voice. ‘Then we’ll talk, okay?’

She understood why he was hanging up. She knew him better than anyone. ‘All right. Look after yourself out there, Ryan. I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

Killing the phone, he looked down at his drink, took
a
deep breath and swallowed it in one gulp. The liquid burned all the way down.

But that didn’t stop him pouring another glass.

‘She’s suffering from dehydration and borderline malnutrition,’ the doctor explained, speaking in a soft voice that belied his stocky frame and heavy jowls already darkened with stubble. The name tag on his coat identified him as Cooper.

‘We haven’t got her blood work back yet, but we know she’s anaemic. Lack of exposure to sunlight will have caused vitamin D deficiencies as well. Bone density is normally a problem in cases like this, but judging from her lean muscle mass, she’s been exercising during her confinement. She must have been remarkably fit when she was imprisoned.’

Franklin stretched, doing his best to ignore the painful spasm in the small of his back as he did so. The flight from Andrews Air Force Base to Alaska had been an ordeal, forcing him to sit in a cramped, uncomfortable seat for what felt like an eternity as his back slowly locked up.

But there had been no question of coming here. Cain would brook no delay when he found out the Shepherd team and the woman they had risked so much to recover had disembarked in Alaska. He had insisted on flying there straight away, even charting his own flight for the purpose.

The object of their attention was seated at a table fixed into the centre of the room, a plastic cup of orange juice lying untouched in front of her.

The first order of business had been to perform a full medical examination and health assessment. She had shown little sign of weakness, but one look at her was
enough
to confirm the years of abuse and neglect she had suffered. There was no telling what kind of impact her imprisonment had had on her health.

‘There’s also evidence of sexual assault, and sustained physical abuse over a long period,’ Cooper went on. His tone had changed a little, becoming colder and more clinical. ‘She was reluctant to let us examine her, which is understandable, so it’s hard to know if there’s any internal damage. Preliminary HIV screening has come back negative, but we can’t rule out the possibility of other sexually transmitted infections.’

‘What are we doing for her?’ Cain asked.

He was staring at Maras, jaw clenched tight, his forehead knotted, deep worry lines plainly visible. For the first time since Franklin had met him, he looked his age and more.

But it was the look in his eyes that took Franklin by surprise. There was sadness there; deep wells of sadness and pain and grief.

‘We’ve already started her on an aggressive course of antibiotics, plus vitamin supplements to combat her mineral deficiencies. We’ll put her on a high-calorie, high-nutrition diet to help bring her body back to its normal BMI. You can’t go too fast with cases like these – the body can’t cope with a sudden change in food intake. You have to build them up gradually. She’ll need additional therapy to deal with sunlight, since her skin hasn’t been exposed to ultraviolet rays in years. More than anything, she needs time to rest and recover.’

‘What about her mental state?’ Franklin asked, turning his attention back to Maras. The woman was like a statue at the table. She hadn’t moved a muscle throughout the whole conversation.

‘You’ve got me, sir,’ Cooper admitted. ‘I can treat her
physical
injuries, but long-term psychiatric care is another issue.’ He exhaled slowly. ‘Off the record, I’d say you’ll be looking at severe post-traumatic stress disorder. There are likely to be other long-term issues like coping with open spaces, depression, trust and fear of authority. It depends on her psychological make-up. Patients who have survived experiences like this can take months or even years to adjust to normal life.’

‘We don’t have that long,’ Cain said.

‘Sir, I don’t think you understand,’ the doctor protested. ‘This patient has been through—’

‘She’s been through worse,’ Cain assured him before turning to Franklin. ‘Dan, I want you to get in there and talk to her. We need to bring her up to speed.’

Franklin frowned. ‘Me? Shouldn’t you be the one to debrief her?’

Cain shook his head. Normally calm and composed, and possessing a natural authority that others deferred to almost by instinct, he now looked nervous and agitated.

‘There’s too much history there. We need her to focus on the present.’

‘What if she asks about you?’

Cain looked away for a moment. ‘Tell her I retired from the CIA two years ago. Health reasons.
You’re
now the Divisional Director.’

Franklin hesitated. He didn’t like the way this was heading. But on the other hand, he knew what was at stake as well as Cain did. If they failed, the repercussions could be devastating.

‘Do you have a problem with that?’ Cain challenged him.

Raising his chin, he reached up and straightened his tie. ‘No. No problem.’

* * *

Following a two-hour surgery to pin his shattered shoulder back together, Mason had been wheeled out of theatre and into a private recovery room. Drake was able to track down the surgeon responsible for the operation: a thin, balding, dishevelled-looking man in his fifties.

‘He came through pretty well,’ the surgeon informed him. ‘It’s lucky he was in such good shape – that should bode well for his long-term chances. We patched him up as best we could, but it’s likely he’ll need further surgery, and he’ll definitely need a long period of rehab.’

Drake glanced in through the little window in the door. Mason was propped up in his bed, shoulder heavily strapped and bandaged, staring out the window without seeing anything.

‘Does he know?’

The doctor nodded. ‘Yeah, I told him.’

‘Can I speak to him?’

The old man chewed his lip. ‘Five minutes.’

Mason didn’t look around as Drake entered the room. ‘I had a feeling you’d be dropping in, Ryan,’ he said, his voice heavy with painkillers.

The view from the window looked like something out of a picture postcard, with vast tracts of evergreen forests stretching off towards the towering snow-capped peaks of the Chugach Mountains to the east.

To the west lay the shimmering blue expanse of Cook Inlet, with commercial ships ploughing their way up and down the channel to the nearby Port of Anchorage. Elmendorf Base backed almost straight onto the town. God only knew what the locals thought about the scream of military jets landing and taking off, but Drake supposed people here learned to endure all kinds of hardships.

He helped himself to a hard plastic chair and pulled it up next to the bed. ‘How are you feeling?’

With some effort Mason turned to look at Drake. ‘The doc tells me I won’t be pitching any curve balls for a while.’

‘Can I do anything for you? Anything you need?’

Mason’s face twisted in a smile. ‘Got a spare arm I could borrow?’

Drake couldn’t help but smile a little too. ‘You’ll be all right, you bloody wimp. A few weeks of rehab and it’ll be like nothing happened. And look at it this way – you’ll have plenty of young nurses to harass.’

The older man laughed. ‘This is an Air Force base, man. Most of the women here make
you
look attractive.’

‘Shit, it must be bad, then,’ Drake said. But his smile faded as he looked at Mason’s ruined shoulder again. ‘Look, Cole … I’m sorry about …’

Mason reached out with his good arm and gripped Drake’s shoulder, staring hard at him. ‘Ryan, the worst thing you can do is beat yourself up over things that weren’t your fault. This was bad luck – nothing more, nothing less. You had nothing to do with it.’

Drake appreciated the sentiment. He just wished he could believe it. Mason wouldn’t even have been in that prison if he hadn’t accepted Cain’s deal.

‘I’ll check up on you later,’ he said quietly, rising from the chair.

He was almost at the door when Mason spoke up again. ‘Ryan?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I hope she was worth it.’

Chapter 26

ONLY ONE DOOR
led in or out of the holding room, and it was locked from the other side, with two armed Military Police officers on standby.

Franklin felt a twinge of apprehension as the door buzzed and the electronic locks disengaged. If Cain was to be believed, the woman beyond that door could kill him as easily as tying her shoelaces.