Last Man Standing (72 page)

E
d O’Bannon paced around the small, bare space. He hadn’t smoked in years, yet he had gone through almost a pack in the last
two hours. Discovery was something that he had always contemplated, but as time went on and things went smoothly, his fears
had receded, even as his bank account had swollen. He heard someone coming and turned to the door. It was locked, and thus
he was surprised when he heard the knob turning. O’Bannon backed away. When the man came in, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Long time no see, Doc.”

O’Bannon put out his hand and Nemo Strait shook it.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it, Nemo.”

“When have I ever let you down?”

“I’ve got to get going. The Feds are bottling the country up.” “Don’t get yourself all bent out of shape. We got lots of ways
for you to go and the planes, papers and the people to get you there.” Strait held up a packet of documents. “Through Mexico
to Rio and then on to Johannesburg. From there you got your option of Australia, New Zealand, lots of fugitives go there.
Or maybe hit our old stomping grounds in Southeast Asia.”

O’Bannon eyed the packet and breathed another sigh of relief. He smiled and lit another cigarette. “That seems like a hundred
years ago.”

“Hey, I’ll never forget. You saved my ass after the Viet Cong screwed with my mind.”

“Deprogramming, not so difficult for someone who knows what he’s doing.”

“Lucky for me you did,” said Strait. He paused and grinned.

“And catching a little drug action on the side. That was a nice little side benefit for your practice.”

O’Bannon shrugged. “Everyone was doing that back then.”

“Hell, yes, they were, myself included, though it was just for my personal use.”

“I have to hand it to you, when you looked me up with your idea of bugging my offices and selling the information on the streets,
that was pure genius.”

Strait grinned. “Well, the Feds got all these resources, we had to level the playing field a little bit. But it was a win-win.
You got the info, I got folks who need that stuff to conduct their business, myself included. You make money, I make money
and the Feds get the short end of the stick. What could be better?”

When Gwen had brought Strait in on her plan to exact revenge on the people involved with her son’s death, he had started investigating
both Hostage Rescue and Web London. Growing up on a horse farm just made a person methodical like that, Strait had long ago
realized. You got all the information you could, formed a plan and executed that plan. Until he had been captured by the Viet
Cong, Strait had been an excellent soldier, leading his company in and out of many hellish situations, and he had a chest
full of medals to prove it, not that that had ever mattered to him. Then he discovered that the Ed O’Bannon he had known in
Vietnam was the same O’Bannon treating Web London. That had given him the idea to both set up London and HRT because he knew
firsthand what Ed O’Bannon could do with someone’s mind. Initially, however, O’Bannon wanted no part of it. But when Strait
had learned how many law enforcement people he had as patients, he had approached O’Bannon again and repeated his offer to
bug the premises, sell the information to criminals and split the proceeds fifty-fifty with the good doctor. With that inducement
O’Bannon had signed on immediately. The passage of years had not lessened the man’s greed. Some of the bugged psychiatrist
sessions had also provided Strait with all the information he needed to set up HRT. He had never told O’Bannon about his Oxycontin
drug trade because the man no doubt would’ve wanted a cut of that too. And now Strait already had a partner in Gwen Canfield.
Twenty-five percent, damn! But he had to admit, last night had been worth it.

Nemo said, “I was one surprised pup when you brought Claire Daniels to us. Although I guess I shouldn’t have been. When you
told me London was seeing her, I knew it’d be a problem down the road.”

“I tried to get him to stay with me. But like I said, I couldn’t push too hard without raising suspicions. I kept most of
his file from her, of course. And you were the only ones I could turn to.”

“You did the right thing. I can guarantee you this: She’ll never testify against you in court.”

O’Bannon shook his head. “It’s hard to believe it’s over.”

“Well, we had us one sweet operation going.”

“‘Had’ is right,” O’Bannon said mournfully.

“I guess you got no love for our federal government either.” “After what I saw in Vietnam? No. And working for the Bureau
in-house didn’t do much to change that opinion.”

“Well, I’m betting you got you a nice little nest egg to last you the rest of your days.”

O’Bannon nodded. “I’ve been smart about it. Now I just hope I get to enjoy it.”

“I want to thank you, Doc, for all your help. You did London perfect.”

“With his background, believe me, he was an easy case. Didn’t even need any drugs.” He smiled. “The man trusted me. What does
that say for the mighty FBI?”

Strait yawned and rubbed at his eyes.

“Late night?” asked O’Bannon.

“You could say that. Sort of burning the candle at both ends and in the middle too.”

There was a quiet knock at the door.

Strait said, “Come on in.” He looked at O’Bannon. “Here’s your ride. This is my best guy. He’ll take care of everything.”

Clyde Macy walked in and stared first at O’Bannon and then at Strait.

“I go way back with this boy. Showed him the error of his ways, I guess, ain’t that right?”

Macy said, “The old man I never had.”

Strait laughed. “You got that right. If you can believe it, this boy infiltrated a black drug crew in D.C. Set ’em up to take
the heat for what we did. One of ’em, dude named Antoine Peebles, was trying to take over this fellow Westbrook’s turf. So
Mace played along with this little plan, Peebles helped us when we needed it, and then Mace killed Peebles.”

O’Bannon looked puzzled. “Why’d you do that?”

“Because I wanted to,” said Macy, his remorseless eyes dead on O’Bannon. “It was a mission I put together for myself. And
I successfully completed it.”

Strait chuckled. “Then he made sure HRT and the Free Society shot it out. The man is invaluable. Okay, Mace, this is Ed O’Bannon,
the friend I told you about.” He handed O’Bannon the documents and slapped him on the shoulder and shook his hand.

“I meant what I said, Doc, you did right by us. Thanks again, and you make yourself one fun-loving fugitive from justice.”

Strait turned and left. As he closed the door behind him, he heard the first muffled shot and then one more. Damn, that Macy
was efficient. He’d taught the boy real well. He did have some faults, though. Macy’s competition thing with the FBI was sometimes
inconvenient. One of the concessions he had made to keep the boy happy had been pretty risky, but all in all Strait could
not have pulled this off without Clyde Macy.

Strait had nothing against Ed O’Bannon, but loose ends were loose ends. And Nemo Strait didn’t trust Ed O’Bannon or anyone
else. Okay, one problem down, now just two more to go: Kevin Westbrook and Claire Daniels. They had escaped once, but they
wouldn’t have a chance to do it again. And then it was time to call it a career. The Greek islands were sounding better and
better. Not bad for a boy who had grown up dirt poor and who had lived by his wits ever since. America was the land of opportunity
indeed.

As he got in his truck, Nemo Strait wondered if there were any horse farms in Greece. He hoped not.

I
n the carriage house Web opened his eyes and looked around. He didn’t hear Romano stirring, and when he glanced at his watch
he knew why. It was not yet six. He got up, opened the window and inhaled an early morning breeze. He had slept unusually
heavily.

He would be gone from here soon and part of him was glad about that and part of him wasn’t.

What he was thinking about mostly, though, was Claire. His experience told him that there was very little chance that the
woman was still alive. It was numbing, the thought of never seeing her again.

As he continued to gaze outside, he saw Gwen driving down the road from the mansion in a Jeep with its top off. She pulled
into the cobblestone courtyard in front of the carriage house and got out. She was dressed to ride in jeans, boots and a sweater;
her long hair gracefully framed her face. She wore no hat.

As she walked to the door, he called out. “Rent check’s in the mail, call off the eviction.”

She looked up, smiled and waved. “I thought we might go for one last ride.” She looked at the lightening sky. “By the time
we saddle up, it’ll be the best time of the day to cruise the trails. You with me, Mr. London?” She flashed a smile that seemed
to push away just about every concern Web had.

They saddled their mounts, Gwen on Baron and Web on a smaller roan horse named Comet. Gwen explained that Boo had an infected
leg.

“Hope the big fellow will be all right.”

“Not to worry, horses are very resilient,” answered Gwen.

They covered a good deal of ground over about an hour and a half, and as they rode along all Gwen could think was that she
had never killed anyone before. Yes, she had bluffed Nemo Strait the night before, but when it came down to it, could she
do it? She looked at Web riding next to her and tried her best to cast him in the form of her worst enemy, her most terrifying
nightmare. Yet it was difficult to do. For years she had dreamed about killing each and every member of this so-called heroic
band of federal agents whom everyone had assured here were the best there was. That they would get her son and all the other
hostages out alive; that was what they had drilled into her, until Gwen’s fears had receded and her expectations had soared.
It was like being told you had cancer but that it was absolutely curable, and you believed this until they closed your coffin
and put you in the ground. Well, they had almost accomplished their goal of rescuing every hostage, allowing only her son
to perish. And then she had watched, seething, as Web London’s face graced newspaper, magazines, TV shows, his heroic deeds
outlined in nauseating detail, ending with a medal given to him personally by the President himself. She could not think of
his horrible injuries. She did not know of the grueling ordeals he had endured as he fought his way back on to HRT. Not that
any of that would have mattered to her. All she could think of was that Web was alive and her son was dead. Some hero.

Yes, the sight of her son lying dead next to Web London had popped something in her brain. She could actually remember the
crackle that seemed to go through every nerve in her body, like lightning had struck; and she had never been the same since.
She had never had a day since when she did not see the bloody body of her son lying there on the ground. Nor could she ever
forget the image of men in battle gear going in to rescue her son and somehow managing to bring everyone out alive except
him. She looked back at Web and he slowly took on hues of black, of evil. He was the last man. Yes, she could kill him. And
maybe her nightmare would finally be over.

“I suppose you and Romano will be leaving today?”

“Looks that way.”

Gwen smiled and flicked at her hair. She kept a tight grip on her reins, for she felt her hand might start shaking. “Your
good work done?”

“Something like that. How’s Billy?”

“All right. He goes through moods, like we all do.”

“You don’t strike me as moody. You seem the type to roll with the punches.”

“You’d be surprised sometimes.”

“That was some party last night.”

“Billy can really throw them. The Ransome brothers were not exactly what I expected.”

“You don’t believe that’s their real name, do you?”

“Not for a second.”

“When I first met them I thought they were gay. That is, until you walked into the room, and then their sexual orientation
became pretty clear.”

Gwen laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

They rode past the opening to the small glen where Gwen’s chapel was.

“Aren’t you going to the chapel today?”

“Not today.” Gwen looked away from the opening in the trees. Today was not a day for prayer. While Web wasn’t looking, though,
she crossed herself.
Forgive me, God, for what I am about to do.
Even as she silently mouthed the words, she never really expected that prayer to be answered.

They reached a steep slope of earth that at the top was covered with trees. She had never taken Web this way before. Perhaps
in the back of her mind she had known this day would come.

Gwen whipped up Baron and charged toward the slope, Web and Comet right on their heels. They galloped up the slope, Web almost
nosing ahead of Gwen. When they got to the top, they stopped their mounts and gazed out over the countryside while the horses
sucked in huge amounts of air.

Gwen looked at Web with genuine admiration. “I’m impressed.”

“Hey, I had a great teacher.”

“The watchtower is close by. The view’s even better from there.” Web didn’t tell her he’d already been up there with Romano
when they had checked out the Ransomes’ spread. “Sounds good.”