Chapter 43
DECLAN
My thumb hovers over the phone screen. I want to break it with my hands. But doing so won’t crush Ian. It will only slow me down.
I dial Oliver instead.
He answers after one ring. “It appears as if it’s only Ian in the safehouse. I have a view of every angle and I don’t see her,” is how he greets me. He must be watching the security feed from headquarters.
“I’m on a training ride. I wanted to clear my mind before diving in today,” I offer as an explanation and an apology for why I’m not there already.
“It’s good you didn’t leave to get Charlie right after I called. Could have been both of you there when Ian arrived.”
Oliver’s relief only fuels my guilt. I should still have been there with her. I shouldn’t have left her. But then would Ian have tried to take me out? Shot me first?
“I’ll pick you up,” Oliver says, not acknowledging my silence.
“Ian is the mole.” I say this hard-to-swallow truth aloud.
“Yeah. I did a rewind on the video log from just before the alarm sounded. He took aim at Charlie and she fought back. After she fled to the tunnels, Ian tried to pull out the security panel and mess with the wiring, but it appears he electrocuted himself. Then he threw around most of the small furniture pieces trying to break the windows. They’re not going to budge.
Now I can see him pacing,” Oliver says, growling through the phone.
The alarm went off four minutes ago, maybe five. I can picture Ian covering his ears as the piercing sound repeats over and over. It’s a small justice to know the noise may drive him mad.
“Did you suspect?” I ask, recalling that Oliver did not tell Ian about his decoy attack theory earlier this week.
“I’ve suspected everyone at one time or another. You’re not the only one who was betrayed in Osaka. I ignored my gut. I thought it was just—” Oliver cuts himself off.
He doesn’t have to fill in the rest. I know exactly what he’s trying to say.
After Osaka, I’ve questioned everyone over and over again.
I’ve been testing and retesting everyone around me.
I could have told Ian yesterday evening, told him I knew exactly who Blaed was.
Was I testing Ian? My gut – my instincts – suspected before I was aware.
We hang up and I wait for Oliver. I remove my helmet and try my best not to pace, not to panic.
Charlie isn’t in the safehouse. Confirmed.
Would she stay in the tunnels? Or would she find a way out?
Some cafés should be opening up soon. If she’s outside, she’ll know to seek a crowded space. I worry about her running blind through the streets. Her body would already be primed for exhaustion and now aimless, countless miles running to safety. This is not going to be good for her.
Come on, Charlie. Where are you?
Oliver pulls up in his silver luxury SUV and pops the back hatch.
I place my bike in the back and get in. I don’t care if my sweaty cycling kit damages his leather seats.
It’s been ten minutes since the alarm sounded now.
We still haven’t located Charlie, but we have time.
I keep telling myself that over and over. We have time.
My phone buzzes. It’s Charlie!
I answer and put her on speakerphone immediately. “Charlie,” I call out. But it sounds like she is far away. Is her phone in her pocket?
Someone is with her. I can’t hear anything, so I turn up the volume as loud as it can go. And that’s when a familiar voice fills the car.
“I’m Xander, but everyone calls me X.C.”
“What the . . .” Oliver mutters next to me.
I hear the sounds of footsteps and a car door slamming and then the line disconnects. But I can’t move. I can’t think.
Because that was X.C. I’d know that voice anywhere.
But X.C. died in Osaka.
I try to think back to that evening. The fog obscuring our view of the bay. The rendezvous that was beyond delayed. We should have gotten out of there way earlier. X.C. said he heard something and walked further down the dock. And then the blast and I was in the water.
But if he’s still alive, then what happened?
He didn’t come back to headquarters. Didn’t come to pull me from the water, but he knows I’m a strong swimmer.
I try to make the puzzle pieces fit with who I know X.C.
to be. Old loyalties die hard. But the mental picture of what happened that night and, in the months since, is ash in my hands.
Oliver’s voice breaks through to me. “Declan, you know what this means?” he asks, but it’s a rhetorical question. He has riddled it out before I can.
“He betrayed us,” I manage to say, although I still can’t believe it.
It was X.C. who sabotaged the mission. X.C.
who set the dock to explode and let me stand there, knowing full well I could have died.
X.C. who walked away without seeing me exit the water, who assumed I’d drowned.
X.C. who recruited Ian to spy for him. X.C.
who built his own cartel of mercenaries who would do his bidding, no matter who was footing the bill.
“Betrayal” is such a small word for the depth of the pain he has caused.
“Yes, and now he has Charlie.” Oliver’s words are clear and urgent.
Her name snaps me out of my spiral. Charlie.
X.C. is alive and that lying motherfucker has Charlie!