Chapter Sixty-Four
Defense Intelligence Headquarters
Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling
Washington, DC
Three Months Later
Caspian exited the elevator. He moved slower than he used to, not because he wanted to but because his body forced him to.
The surgeries had gone well, but the process of regaining his strength had been slower and more frustrating than he expected.
Physical therapy helped, but he wasn’t back to his old self just yet.
Though he’d started exercising again, his chest still tightened when he exerted himself, and there were some mornings when the ache was such that it reminded him that a bullet had come within inches of ending it all.
But at least he was upright, and he was moving. That had to count for something, right?
Liesel, who’d been his anchor since he’d left the hospital, walked beside him.
For the last three months, they’d been staying with his parents in Portland.
At first, Caspian had been worried that Richard and Elizabeth might carry the trauma of what had happened the night of the shooting, but to his relief, they’d moved forward with surprising ease.
His father had returned to his routines, including his weekly outing to the shooting range.
Even his mother had taken up weekly sessions at the range.
Caspian was glad his parents weren’t consumed by fear.
If anything, they seemed more grounded and more present than they had ever been.
His brother, Nelson, had recently accepted a position at the Maine Medical Center.
Caspian suspected Nelson’s relationship with Clara was getting serious because the last time Caspian had spoken to his brother, Nelson had told him that he and Clara were considering buying a property a fifteen-minute drive from the family house.
As for him and Liesel, they walked the Old Port most mornings.
They’d also signed up for cooking lessons, and somewhere along the way, Caspian had developed a deep love for coffee.
Liesel called it an obsession. He called it peace.
He’d even invested a significant amount of money in an expensive Italian espresso machine.
The machine had so many levers and knobs that Caspian had to read the instruction manual several times to learn how to operate it.
And even then, it took him at least twenty minutes each morning to calibrate it just right, to grind the beans by hand, and to test the water temperature.
Liesel teased him endlessly about it, but he didn’t care.
A month ago, at his request, Ranger had withdrawn the last of his security detail. Caspian had told her he didn’t want to live under a dome anymore. And Liesel had agreed. There hadn’t been any threats since. At least none that he could see.
But then, two days ago, Ranger had called him to request an in-person meeting with him and Liesel at the DIA headquarters. They both knew they would eventually have to return to the DIA.
Ranger’s assistant opened the door for them. When Caspian stepped inside Ranger’s office, he was surprised to see Nicklas Drescher. The BND officer stood near the window.
“Nicklas?” Liesel said, smiling. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Neither did I,” added Caspian, shaking his hand.
“Apparently, our friend Nicklas has something he’d like to share with us,” Ranger said, gesturing for them to sit.
Caspian could tell Ranger was a tad annoyed with Drescher.
“The BND has decided not to renew the liaison officer position with the SSU,” he said.
Ranger frowned, her eyes narrowing. “That’s ridiculous, Nicklas. Liesel is vital to our coordination efforts with our European partners. You know this.” Then, looking at Liesel, she said, “I’ll fight this, Liesel. Don’t worry.”
“I don’t want you to fight this, Samantha,” Liesel said. “I’m not staying.”
Ranger reacted as if she’d been slapped in the face. “What?”
“I’m done,” Liesel said.
Ranger turned sharply to Caspian, the heat rising behind her eyes.
“And you’re okay with this?” she asked.
Caspian met her gaze. “More than okay. We’ve both given enough. I’m done too.”
Ranger’s face turned bright red. “You . . . you can’t just walk away, Caspian. Not now.”
“I’ve made my decision,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, to be honest. I’m not asking for your permission. I’m telling you. I know what I want now.”
“Oh, really? And what’s that?” Ranger asked.
Caspian leaned back in his chair and let Ranger’s thick sarcasm fly by without reacting to it. He said, “I once said this to someone, but she didn’t believe me. I hope you will.”
“What are you talking about?” Ranger asked, clearly irritated.
“I’m looking into becoming a part-time bush pilot. There’s a lodge on Nahmakanta Lake my dad used to bring me to when I was a kid. I’d fly anglers in and out for four to five months a year. I’ll spend the rest of the time sailing the coast. I’m about to make an offer on a catamaran.”
Ranger stared at him for a few seconds, as if unsure if he was pulling her leg or not, then she let out a dry, cheerless laugh. “You? A bush pilot? You’ll lose your mind.”
“I don’t think so,” he replied. “But I guess time will tell.”
“You owe me, Caspian,” Ranger said. “After everything I’ve done for you, you still want to walk away? From me? No. That’s not how this works. And you sure as hell know it.”
Caspian sighed. “I don’t owe you anything, Samantha.”
A heavy silence hung in the air for a long moment, only to be broken by Drescher.
“Maybe he does owe you, Sam. But you owe me,” he said, tapping his fingers on his prosthetic leg. “Remember?”
Ranger looked at Drescher, her face faltering for the first time. Caspian thought he saw her anger morph into something heavier. She closed her eyes, then opened them again.
“Fine,” she finally said. “But I need Caspian to do one more job for me.”
“I’m not interested—” Caspian started to say, but Ranger raised her hand.
“Hear me out, okay? That’s all I’m asking.”
Caspian shrugged, then gestured for her to go ahead.
“It’s about Charles Mpassi,” Ranger said. “Everett Westcott’s number two.”
For some reason, Caspian’s left leg began to throb. “What about him?”
“He was as involved as Westcott in the decision to target your family. Maybe more. And he’s not hiding either.
He’s been seen working with Chinese intelligence operatives in the DRC.
He’s consolidating power, but not just in his country of origin, but also in Rwanda, Uganda, Burundi, and even South Sudan.
That shitbag is destabilizing the entire region. He needs to die.”
“But how? I thought Hearts United was done?” Caspian asked.
“Hearts United is done. It imploded after Westcott’s death, and we think Mpassi, or someone who’s loyal to him, planted the bomb in Westcott’s plane.”
Caspian stared at the floor. Something Ranger had said stirred something inside of him. Part of him wanted to finish what he had started. Mpassi had come after his family. He couldn’t let him get away with it.
“If I go . . . if I go after him,” he said slowly, looking at Liesel. “If I do that . . . what happens to the life we’ve been building?”
Liesel grabbed his hand with hers. “If you need to do this, if you really need to, I’ll . . . I’ll support you,” she said.
Caspian was looking at Ranger now. “I’ll ask you one question, Samantha. Only one. And I want you to tell me the truth.”
Ranger nodded. “Of course.”
“Is Charles Mpassi still a threat to my family?”
Ranger sighed, then she slowly shook her head. “No,” she said. “We think that door is closed now. This operation, you’d be doing it for the greater good.”
Caspian looked at Liesel, who was still holding his hand. “I don’t need to do this,” he said. And then, to Ranger, “I’m done, Samantha. Find someone else.”
Ranger’s eyes narrowed again, but there was no anger left in them. Just exhaustion.
“If you ever change your mind . . .”
“Yeah,” Caspian said, getting up and then offering his hand. “I know where to find you.”
“Okay, Caspian,” she said, shaking his hand. “Go live your life.”
Caspian offered his hand to Drescher, who took it. “See you soon.”
“I don’t think so,” Caspian replied.
At the door, Liesel paused and turned back.
“Oh, and by the way, Nicklas, I’m resigning. Effective today.”
Drescher gave her a big, almost fatherly smile. “If you hadn’t, I would have fired you.”