Trust Me (50 page)
‘In gratitude for all you’ve done, Luke, Quicksilver can help you back into your old life.’
‘Is that how you make amends to me? Make all the trouble go away? You brought a lot of the trouble on me, Dad. This … war has been building my whole life, and I had no idea that I might be pulled into it. Other than you giving me a Saint Michael’s medal and warning me I might one day have to fight. Were you assuming I’d simply follow in your footsteps? Thanks a lot.’
Warren studied his splinted fingers, as though he hadn’t heard the sharpness of Luke’s words. ‘Eric’s already been identified as a money launderer since his murder. He screwed around with the audit records trying to cover his transfers. We can fake computer records, make it look like you had previous but innocent contact with him. That he thought you knew about his crimes and that he was pursuing you. We can clear your name in every way that it’s been muddied, given time.’
‘Make up a lie so I can live a truth? My old life wasn’t truth. It was all in the service of Henry. Because you left me behind. You abandoned us.’
Now his father met his steady gaze. ‘I never would have picked this life for you, Luke. It was why I left.’
‘Why you lied. Let’s call it what it is.’ Anger that he couldn’t control steamed up in him. Before he was shot they hadn’t had enough time to talk. Only for his father to say he was sorry.
‘Fine. Why I lied. But I thought I was doing the best for you and your mom. I didn’t want anyone coming after me to come after you. They killed everyone I worked with. Do you think they would have hesitated to kill my family?’
‘They? It was just Henry, Dad. He chased you off, you let him, and he slid into your life. For God’s sakes …’
‘I didn’t know it was Henry behind the attempt on me. I swear.’
For the past week Luke had danced around this truth, unwilling to discuss it until his father was stronger. ‘What you said about Mom. That he killed her …’
‘I will always believe he had a hand in her death. Your mother was a smart woman. She could have found out what he was doing. Confronted him. Knowing what we know now he must have killed her.’
‘But she would have never been in danger if you’d had the guts to stick around. If you’d put us ahead of your work.’
Warren reached for his son’s hand, but Luke stepped back. A horrible silence settled between them for a long minute, broken only by the hiss of the wind in the oaks.
‘Do you want me to be dead, Luke?’ Warren asked. ‘I can be. It’s what you know. You never have to see me again.’
‘You don’t get off that easy, Dad. You did this so you could go fight this secret war, save people, prove all your theories. I have to matter as much as your work does. I fought that war when you couldn’t, without any warning. But the war has to be worth fighting, for a personal reason. I have to matter to you. Why didn’t you stay in New York, meet me there instead of relying on Drummond to take care of me? If I’d been willing to hide under a false name, like Drummond offered, would you even have stepped forward to let me know you were alive?’
‘It wouldn’t have been necessary.’
Luke shook his head. ‘Even when I was in danger, you put Quicksilver’s interests first.’
‘No, not true.’ Warren paused, as though he didn’t know what words to use.
‘Just say what you want to say, Dad.’
‘I was afraid of your hate. I could bear being away from you, but I couldn’t bear knowing you hated me.’
The silence between them was thick for a long moment. ‘I don’t hate you. I don’t know that I understand you yet. I may never. But I will try. But I’m not sure what my next step is.’
Warren cleared his throat. ‘You can go back, try to have a normal life again, or—’
‘I can’t. I can either hide or I can help. I don’t want to hide, but I don’t like the idea of being drafted into Quicksilver. And I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive you, much less work with you.’
‘I deserve every bit of anger you want to shove down my throat. I’ll take it, Luke, and never argue that I could have made a better choice. But I want you to know, what you accomplished - the lives you saved … you make me so proud.’
Luke watched the water. He had wanted to delve into minds defined by destructive purpose. He had, but now he understood less about them than he had before. No amount of study or theorizing had prepared him for Henry, or Mouser, or Snow. Yet he had survived.
Had he known, at some level, this wind of change was blowing? Had he sensed, even as a boy, that his father carried many secrets? His search for his father, his delving into the terrorist mind, his surprising determination to carry the battle forward, where did that come from inside him? All of this horror had burned away the old Luke, and left a different man standing.
If he tried to go back to a normal life, he would spend his life looking over his shoulder. Wars did not last forever. What if Quicksilver was the best hope of bringing this battle to a rapid conclusion? Be drafted. Do a tour of duty. Help his father. Stop Henry and make him pay for what he’d done.
Knowing what we know now he must have killed her
. He must have. Luke thought of the time he’d spent comforting Henry, reassuring him. A cold anger ignited in his chest.
‘What would you have me do?’
‘I think you could handle field assignments, given time.’ Warren cleared his throat, risked a smile. ‘But you would be brilliant as a terrorism profiler. You sifted through thousands of people to find the Night Road. You could find them again. You could help us find the next wave of terrorists long before they strike. Identify them, perhaps find ways to keep them from embracing violence, or alienate them from groups like the Night Road.’
Henry had tried to make him believe, in his old innocence, that the world was not dangerous. That the world’s most dangerous people were on the other side of the glass, in their own distant Wonderland, and he knew now they were everywhere. Waiting. Hoping to strike. And the world needed ordinary people like himself to stand and fight and to win that war. To not be afraid; to live for a while, in the secret wilds of the world. He didn’t have to forgive his father right now. That would come in time. But he could take the anger he felt, channel it into kicking down the right doors. He could make a difference.
‘We’ll find Henry and the rest of the Night Road,’ Luke said, ‘You and me. I’ll stay for a while.’
And he sat with his father and he watched the sunset slide over the lake, creating a pool of a thousand colors, the first of the new memories.
The Next Day
On the internet (encoded)
Welcome to the new site for the Night Road. We have had a number of setbacks, but our strength as a network is our ability to recover quickly and with great nimbleness.
Despite the recent and unfortunate delays, I have relocated overseas and I have acquired new funding to share, based on appropriate projections of economic and mortal damage that you can inflict. As well, I have secured powerful friends around the world sympathetic to our cause. I expect further funding from them, so we can all pursue our plans.
Know that we face a real danger. The corporate titans - the globalizer, the power-mongers, the moneylenders of our enemies - have formed their own version of the CIA. They are called Quicksilver, and they will be hunting us. This is not the time to hide. Not the time to lose nerve. This is a time to rise and fight like we have never fought before. To join together in common cause. To know our enemy - the one who will engage us first, even if in secret - and to destroy him, utterly.
I made a mistake that I must confess. I placed my hopes in the wrong person. This caused our network no permanent or troubling harm, but it has reinforced to me that we must be careful in choosing our allies. In recognizing each other, in allowing no one to infiltrate us.
Instructions on proposals to be sent to me will follow shortly. Those who accomplish their initial missions will qualify for further investment. So think big, people.
Think very big.
Many thanks to everyone who helped me in the process of writing this book and makes being a suspense writer such a joy for me.
I am fortunate to work with two of the best minds in the business: David Shelley of Little, Brown UK and Ben Sevier of Dutton. Their enthusiasm, support and terrific insights are a constant inspiration.
Thanks also to:
Ursula Mackenzie, Hilary Hale, Alison Lindsay, Thalia Proctor, Sean Garrehy, Kirsteen Astor, Nathalie Morse, and everyone at Little, Brown UK, who have made me feel very welcome indeed in Great Britain;
Brian Tart, Christine Ball, Lisa Johnson, Erika Imranyi, Melissa Miller, Jamie McDonald and everyone at Dutton, and Kristen Weber and Kara Walsh and everyone at NAL, for their advocacy and dedication.
As always, my deepest gratitude to Peter Ginsberg, Shirley Stewart, Dave Barbor, Holly Frederick and Nathan Bransford, for extraordinary representation and ongoing brilliance.
Special thanks to those who shared their time to answer questions or guide me along the way: Simon Baril; Travis Wilhite; Marcus Sakey (also a terrific crime novelist); Rick Wall; Matt Willson. Any errors, or enhancements for the sake of drama, are my responsibility, not theirs. Thanks also to Steve Bennett and Nancy MacDonald.
There is an evil stepfather in this book; I am blessed with a kind one. Thanks to my mom, Elizabeth; my stepfather, Dub; and my in-laws, Becky and Malcolm.
For a variety of compelling thoughts about non-state networks (such as the Night Road and Quicksilver) and terrorist psychology, I recommend the following:
Brave New War
by John Robb;
Thinking Like a Terrorist
by Mike German;
The Mind of the Terrorist
by Jerrold M. Post;
Leaderless Jihad
by Marc Sageman; and
Terror and Consent: The Wars for the Twenty-First Century
by Philip Bobbitt.
Finally, my deepest thanks go to my muses: Leslie, Charles and William, who are there every day with their love and support, which is more important than ink to a writer.
Look out for Jeff Abbott’s new action-packed thriller and
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: Sam Capra is an ex-CIA agent, an ex-husband, and an utterly devoted father - to a child stolen from him by Novem Soles, an international intelligence agency as mysterious as it is powerful.
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