Chapter 13 Neutralize
Duncan
He was late. Only ten minutes, but still.
What if he figured out we’d set a trap and fled the country.
If he did, we were shit out of luck. It wasn’t like we could hop a plane and drag his ass back to stand trial.
There was a hefty amount of paperwork, plus a formal request had to be submitted in order to extradite an Irish national to the United States.
“Heads up, people. The party is about to get started. A silver Pathfinder just turned into the driveway.” Koen’s voice rang clearly through the small communications device I had in my ear.
He was perched high up in a tree in an old hunting blind with his trusty sniper rifle.
From where he was, he had a clear view into the living room where I stood.
“One occupant. Male. Weasly-looking fucker with red hair.”
“Niall,” I spat. “Everyone is in position?”
“I’ve got the north,” Lanie responded.
“I’m on the east.” That was Keaton.
“West is covered,” Noah chimed in.
“The south is in my scope,” came from Koen.
Waverly was the last to check in. “And I’m in the master.”
She was the only one in the cabin with me.
The rest were close and had a clear view inside.
Initially, she and Keaton were both going to be inside, however it made more sense to have an agent in every direction.
To minimize chaos, Koen would be calling all of the movements since he was the eyes in the sky.
“He’s out of the vehicle. Fifty feet from the door.”
This was it, the only opportunity we’d have to get a confession. Maybe the only chance we’d have to get answers to any lingering questions we had. I’d have to play my cards right though. Otherwise, he’d know we were on to him and the jig would be up.
“Showtime, Duncan.”
Two seconds later, there was a knock at the door. Right before I answered it, Waverly’s voice filled my ear. She was using her take-no-shit tone, so I paid attention.
“Keep your cool. Let him do most of the talking. He’ll dig his own hole. And for fuck’s sake, don’t be a hero. Use the code word if your spidey senses start tingling.”
“Copy that,” I whispered.
Flinging the door open, every instinct I had screamed at me to punch the lying cocksucker in the face. What I did not do was listen to them. Instead, I blanketed my expressions with cold indifference. It was more on point with the agent he knew nine years ago. Or it had been until I met Sloane.
“Good to see you again, Duncan.”
“You too, Niall. Come on in.”
I moved out of the way, letting him walk past. He wandered around, most likely looking for cameras or listening devices.
There were two of each, but he wouldn’t find either.
Funny thing was, the first was the webcam and microphone on my laptop, which was sitting wide open on the small kitchen table.
Sometimes the best hiding spot was the one in plain sight.
“After our little misunderstanding at the hotel, I didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”
“You almost didn’t.”
“If you’re still pissed, why’d you message me?”
“Because you were at the hospital with me right after the accident. You’ll know if what I remembered was real or if my mind is playing tricks on me.”
He wrapped his hands around the top piece of wood on the kitchen chair. “Then tell me. What is it you remembered, Duncan?”
“My chest wound wasn’t totally a result of shrapnel.” I paused for dramatic flair. “I was shot at the crash site.”
If I hadn’t been paying close attention, I never would’ve seen his fingers spasm or the way he gripped the chair harder in an attempt to cover his reaction.
But I was and I did. Any doubts I had about Niall being the one who pulled the trigger were extinguished at that moment. What I wanted to know was why?
“Shot?” He slid a chair from underneath the table, lowering himself into it. I did the same. “It was a car crash, Duncan, not a bank robbery.”
“Technically, it was a bombing, Niall. Don’t forget about the IED that took out my car. I think being around Sloane again triggered my brain to remember pieces it suppressed when I thought she was dead. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Or maybe these are false memories. Don’t you think if you’d been shot, I would know? I was there when they wheeled you out of the operating room. I talked to the surgeon personally.”
“Reel him in nice and slow, Duncan,” Waverly whispered.
“I know what I saw, Niall.”
“Let’s backtrack for a second. What exactly did you remember?”
“There was a man standing over me with a gun. He said something, then pulled the trigger. I heard him whistling when he walked away.”
“Did you see his face?”
“No. That part is still hazy.”
“Do you know how ridiculous this sounds? I can’t go to the Irish police and ask them to reopen the investigation when the only proof you have is your unreliable memory. I’d be laughed out of the building.”
“Who said I don’t have any proof, Niall?”
“I just assumed––”
“You assumed wrong. We’ve got bank records, showing payment to the surgeon who operated on me.”
He swallowed roughly. “Then you know. So why the ruse?”
“I wanted to know why.”
“Head’s up. Another car is approaching.”
As soon as Koen gave the warning, I heard the distinct sound of tires crunching over gravel outside. In all our planning, we hadn’t taken into account the possibility that Nial might bring in another player. Guess we were winging it.
“Can you see who’s driving?” Keaton asked.
“Negative. The window tint is too dark.”
“Who did you invite to our party, Niall?” I tapped my finger against my lips.
The grin that spread across Niall’s face was nothing but pure evil. “You’ll find out soon enough, old friend.”
“I’m on the move. I’ll see if I can get a visual through the windshield.” A few seconds later, Keaton’s words sent chills down my spine. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
“Special Agent Palmer.”
“Director Ashland,” I ground out through clenched teeth.
Betrayal sliced me to the core as I stared in disbelief at the man standing in the doorway. I knew Waverly was feeling the same a few rooms away. Roger Ashland had been a mentor to both of us through the years, someone we looked up to and had the utmost respect for.
“Aren’t you going to let me in?” Hard steel pressed into the center of my chest. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
“Gun,” Keaton barked into the comms unit.
I spread my feet wider, standing my ground. “You motherfucker.”
“Now, now. There’s no reason for name-calling. This isn’t personal.”
“The hell it isn’t.”
“Step back, Duncan. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”
“Koen, tell me you’ve got that fucker in your sights,” Noah growled.
“He’s in the crosshairs.”
“Whatever you want, Duncan, we’ve got your back. If you want to let this play out a little longer, then take that step back. If not, use the code word and Koen will drop him where he stands.”
No hesitation. I stepped back. The director of the FBI might have a gun pointed at my chest, but I wasn’t worried.
He’d never get off a shot, not with my team watching my back.
We came here for answers, to get a confession from Niall.
That quickly, the objective changed. It was obvious the Irishman was purely a puppet.
The man holding the strings, the real mastermind, was someone I never would’ve suspected in a million years.
As I moved farther into the room, I kept both assholes in view. There was no way I’d give either of them my back, not when they’d already proven they were willing to stab me in it.
“Never thought you’d turn traitor, Roger. Why’d you do it? Money?”
“Not everything is about the almighty dollar, Duncan.”
“Then what was it?”
“Family.”
“You’re related to Erik Murray?”
“Not Murray.” He shook his head. “Do you remember the kid he met that day in the restaurant? The one we could never identify?”
Murray’s doppelg?nger.
“Of course I remember. We ran a check on all his past lovers to see if one of them had given him an heir. Nothing came of it.”
“Because I made sure it didn’t.” For the first time since he pulled his weapon on me, I saw a hint of remorse. “When the surveillance footage from the restaurant crossed my desk, I had to do something. No one could know his identity.”
“Who is he?”
“Evan Ashland, my nephew. He’s the product of an affair between my sister and Murray. I didn’t have a choice, Duncan.”
“There’s always a choice. You just chose wrong.”
Covering up his nephew’s lineage was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Somehow I didn’t think his criminal behavior ended there.
“Murray was grooming Evan to take over the business. If you succeeded in taking down his organization, my nephew would’ve been on the chopping block right next to him. I couldn’t allow that to happen.”
“So you were the one who ordered my death, not Murray.”
“You were getting too close.”
“So you”––my attention snapped to my old handler––“rigged the IED and when the crash didn’t kill me, you shot me. Why?”
He shrugged. “Money. Between Murray and Ashland, they offered me more than I could make in ten lifetimes sitting behind a desk. The only reason I didn’t finish the job in the hospital was because you lost your memory.
I was in the clear, and ole Roger here could keep his best agent.
It only cost me twenty grand to get the surgeon to change his report. Win-win.”
“Why did you have Niall tell me Sloane was dead? She didn’t have anything to do with the investigation.”
“You never would’ve left Ireland or the investigation behind otherwise.”
“Fucking dick,” Lanie said over the comms.
“Sometimes it’s best to leave the past in the past, Agent Palmer.”
“You won’t get away with any of this. Either of you.”
“We already have,” Niall scoffed.
“Have you though?”
Director Ashland scanned the room, looking nervous. Niall, on the other hand, didn’t know when to shut his mouth.