Chapter 37
One Week after the Funeral
Sam
“According to a CIA source, Massimo De Luca’s men have been inquiring about Leo Sullivan. Two men were hanging around his apartment building, showing his photo, and asking occupants if they knew him.”
“I can’t imagine they discovered anything useful. I didn’t socialize,” I say.
I’m in Jack Sullivan’s home office. Liam Sullivan, Jack’s brother, flew to San Diego for the meeting. The original plan had been for us to meet in Houston, but given my alter ego did business in Houston, and therefore the risk of being recognized was highest in that city, our yacht docked in a small marina on the Alabama coast. We drove to a landing strip where we flew a private plane to San Diego. There are no official records of our arrival in the United States.
“We’re monitoring Massimo all the same.”
“What do you think he’s looking for?”
“Our source thinks he might be investigating his brother’s death.”
“I never denied killing him,” I say, letting my tone convey my skepticism of that theory.
“No, but we think he’s highly suspicious of the syndicate.”
“Leandro was suspicious. Massimo concurring fits.”
“Precisely. We’re uncertain what he’s hoping to find, but we’re fairly certain his goal is to understand the extent of the syndicate’s involvement in recent legal issues for the Lupi Grigi,” Jack says.
Liam bounces a stress ball on the floor, listening with blatant apathy. From what I know of Liam, that checks. His passion lies in R&D. He doesn’t have a military background and, to my knowledge, has never cared for law enforcement. He was perfect as my business contact on the Sullivan end because in all my undercover years working for the syndicate he never once mentioned anything not pertaining to the sale of arms. If anyone listened to our conversations, we never gave them a reason to doubt the legitimacy of my role in negotiating with various arms dealers.
“Do we have anyone monitoring Alessio?”
“We’re watching him from afar. An inside source shared that the reason he wanted the funeral to occur as quickly as it did is that his son, Orlando, had a ceremony scheduled, and they didn’t want to interfere with plans,” Jack says.
“Ceremony?” A fifteen-year-old mafia teen… “He’s a made man? He killed someone?"
“Sometime this weekend. I guess that means he killed recently, or he will soon.”
Damn. Willow would hate knowing that. Her brother had an innocence about him, and killing will change him.
“I know you hate you took her away from her family, but you did her a favor. You took her out of a life in organized crime. She’s better off here.”
I understand what Jack’s saying, and I appreciate why he’s saying it. But she still loved her family. They’re as much victims of the world they were born into as purveyors of it. Judgment Day awaits every person, and I am not the judge.
“What are your plans?” Jack asks.
“Well, I’m thinking once we leave here, we might drive up the coast. Let her see California. Maybe drive cross country, checking out places. See what kind of place she prefers, where she might want to settle. It’s my understanding we can live pretty much anywhere?” I ask, looking to Jack for confirmation.
“We don’t see any reason you can’t. It’s an off-the-books op. No accessible records exist tying you to it. The risk you need to resolve is your sisters. They need to keep your return quiet. They can’t run an article in the local paper or do a small-town hero welcome for the soldier who’s been suffering from amnesia in a hospital in Syria for five years.”
“I’ll be careful.” The CIA provided a carefully sculpted explanation for my whereabouts, including a story for how I met my wife. They’d wanted to paint her as the nurse, but I vetoed that, given she has no medical training. The official story is I recovered in a hospital in Syria with amnesia, took a job fishing, and stayed in Croatia working the docks. It wasn’t until after I met her in Croatia, where she was a sketch artist selling her work on the street, that I began to recover my memory, and found my way to the U.S. Embassy.
That’s the story my sisters will be told. If need-to-know arises, Knox and Max, my sisters’ husbands and Arrow team members, may be given clearance to learn the truth. Until then, they’ll be fed the cover story. Will they believe it? I doubt it. But they’ll understand the importance of playing along.
“Your sister’s baby shower is soon,” Jack says.
Liam continues bouncing the ball, creating a steady whop, whop, whop sound.
“Are they under surveillance?”
“No. Although the Swiss authorities inquired about Sloane testifying.”
Sloane unwittingly uncovered a scam at her company, and she and Sage became targets by those attempting to keep it under wraps. That had been a challenging time for me to be deep undercover.
“Is she going to testify?”
“She agreed. If needed. But I’m not sure it will happen. The lead architect of the scheme was released on home arrest awaiting trial and recently committed suicide,” Jack says.
That gets my attention. “Legit suicide? Not staged?” Staged would mean someone is still out there keeping things under wraps.
“A security camera in his home office captured the moment. A housekeeper found him within minutes.”
There’s not much to say. It wasn’t my case, but I’m glad the bastards who came after my sister are no longer sharing our air.
“So, my sisters are in the clear, right? You aren’t still monitoring them, are you?” All those surveillance photos Nomad showed me come to mind. “How’d you learn about the shower? Knox?” That would make sense. Knox works with these guys, and it’s his first child.
“I received an invitation,” Jack says, shifting in his seat, as if taking offense to my question. “We’re all close.”
Close enough to cross the country for what will probably last about an hour? I can’t imagine my youngest sister, Sage, doing anything extravagant. She’d probably have her friends over for cupcakes or whatever one eats at a baby shower.
“Knox made it clear he didn’t expect us to attend,” Jack says, as if sensing my incredulity. “Ava and I sent a present. But we’re all close. We became closer after…”
Jack lets his voice trail. Yes, there’s no need to dredge that up. I thank god daily it all worked out and my sisters are safe.
“There’s a reason for me bringing this up.” Women’s voices pass through the closed doors, and there’s a soft rap. “Come on in,” Jack says.
Ava, Jack’s wife, stands at the door, hand on the knob. Willow—I’ve got to start thinking of her as Lily—remains in the hallway. “Sophia and Fisher arrived.” She pushes the door wider.
Jack comes around the desk and hugs his daughter. She’s his daughter from his first marriage and must be in her late twenties or early thirties. She graduated from college and entered the FBI directly through a special program, but she’s CIA now, as is her husband, Fisher. He and I shake hands.
Whereas I went deep undercover, these two specialize in quick undercover projects that carry substantial risk. They helped rescue my sister and even met with me once to assure me in person my sisters were a priority.
“Good to see you both,” I say as I shake Sophia’s hand.
“Lily and I are going to take a walk along the ocean. What time do you think you’ll be done? I was thinking we could make reservations at a restaurant downtown so she can get a feel for the city at night. She hasn’t been to San Diego before,” Ava says.
Jack checks his watch. “We’ll be done in another hour or two, tops. I’m down with going out to eat. Are you?” It takes me a second to realize he’s asking me.
“That works.” I make eye contact with Lily to gauge her exhaustion level.
Ava set her up with a hairstylist this morning, and her hair has been blown out to perfection. I doubt the near black color of her locks is her natural color, but I was right that a dark color is a stunning combination with her magnetic blue eyes. And she is a magnet. She walks in a room, and I’m pulled to her. I don’t want to look anywhere or be anywhere else.
“I’d love to,” my wife says, understanding my unspoken question.
Ava smiles and pulls the door closed, taking my wife with her and leaving us to our meeting.
I’d hoped Ryan, Jack’s Arrow Tactical Security partner, would make it down, but he got caught up on a different project. When we drive through Santa Barbara, he’s invited us to stay over and has given us a choice of staying at his home or at one of the corporate apartments Arrow maintains near the office.
With so many of us in the office, we resettle at a round table that’s off to the side. Jack’s office overlooks a covered deck with direct views of the Pacific Ocean.
“Where were we?” Jack asks himself. He raps a knuckle against the table. “Oh, yes. The baby shower. Interpol will be in attendance. That’s why I brought it up.”
I crack my knuckles, waiting to hear the reason Interpol needs to be at my sister’s baby shower, and yes, I’m bracing for the worst.
“Nomad,” Jack says in explanation. “Your sisters know him as Tristan Voignier.”
My gut has trusted Nomad for years, although if he rushed my exit with Willow—er, Lily—in tow, I’ll have some words for him. “How did he become friends with Sage?”
“Interpol got involved with the pharmaceutical scandal. Cross-border crime.”
He’s been showing me photos of my sisters for years, but they were taken by surveillance. I face Sophia and Fisher. “I thought the two of you?—”
“They did,” Jack interrupts. “But they all met at a legal proceeding, and your sister Sage seems to be good at maintaining friendships.” I smile at that. Because yeah, she is. “Ryan was on vacation in Europe at the time of the big bust, and he got to know Tristan and his wife, and we all got together last year. And of course, part of Nomad’s assignment was to stay abreast of your sisters so he would have updates for you.”
He was good about it, too. At every meetup, he had an update. But he never shared he’d become friends with them. “I’ve missed a lot over these years, haven’t I?”
“A great service to your country, but also a great sacrifice,” Jack says.
Not one to dwell on commendation, I ask, “Do we know yet who rushed the extraction?” If it had gone as planned, I would’ve been alone. I would’ve had Willow set up with security in a new location.
“Nikolai Ivanov,” Liam says.
Liam is the one who originally set up my going abroad under the guise of a Sullivan Arms salesperson.
“The immediate extraction was one of his conditions,” Liam adds.
I let out a breath, confused. I left Nick a number but didn’t know if he’d use it. “He’s an asset now?”
“Our first meeting is in a week,” Sophia says. “Fisher and I need your help. We’ll be his contacts. Interpol is reallocating resources. We need to understand everything about his schedule. The players in his world. Anything that will help us so we can cultivate him.”
“And keep him safe,” I add, given that’s the part she left out of her statement.
Fisher adds, “Absolutely.”
That’s good. I’m glad Nick’s working with us. It’s the best possible scenario.
“Why did Nick rush the extraction?”
Jack smiles. “Because you did what any good undercover operative does. You developed a genuine friendship with the man. And he said you needed your wife. That she was the best thing that happened to you.”
“But…he didn’t know the extraction details.”
“No. But you convinced him to be an asset and gave him a number to call.”
“And?”
“He called. Pieced things together. Nick can be a persuasive individual,” Liam says.
“He’s the one who hired Cohen? Nick sicced Mossad on us?”
“Ex-Mossad,” Jack corrects. “We told Nick we needed more time. He told us he wanted to see us in action. Wanted to see us prove our worth.”
“And you all jumped.” Fucking CIA. “Prioritized an asset over an officer.”
“You know what’s at stake,” Jack says in a tone that lets me know he’s had enough insolence and he’s on the verge of pulling rank. “Besides, our new asset made it clear you and your wife were his priority. He gave us no choice.”
Dammit, Nick. He always has to believe he knows best.
“He also sends a message,” Liam says.
“Yeah?” I ask, wondering what exactly he would have to tell me.
“He says that if you ever need him, to call.”
My throat tightens a notch. Nick and I worked closely for years. We treated each other like family. But I thought once he found out I’d been his leak, he’d want me dead. I feared he’d kill my sisters if he ever got their real identity.
“You didn’t share with him?—”
“No,” Jack says. “He knows you’re alive but has no way of reaching you. Well, I suppose he could use his contacts—us—to get word. But, no, he doesn’t know your real identity or what country you moved to.” He places his elbows on the table and links his hands in a relaxed prayer posture. “Same goes for your wife.”
“Which brings us to why we’re here,” Sophia says. “Ready to download? We’ve read the debriefs, but there’s more we need.”