The Red Ledger 9 Page 7

  The look he finally casts my way is filled with frustration—but also, I hope, acceptance.

  Makanga pulls the lever on his recliner, elevating his legs with a loud clank. A smirk curls his mouth as he settles in. “I can drive.”

  TRISTAN

  The firm knot pressing against my throat is one more reason for me to silently curse Isabel’s plan. I feel ridiculous in the navy-blue suit she picked out for me, except she hasn’t stopped looking me over since I put it on at the store this morning.

  “You’re distracting me,” I mutter, trying to ignore her appreciative glances.

  She laughs. “Why?”

  “Why do you think? Are you focused?”

  She slides her hand into mine. “I’m focused. Promise.”

  “You should probably go now,” Makanga says from the driver’s seat. “There might be a line to get in.”

  I check my watch. Simon is set to meet Keegan in fifteen minutes. Isabel needs to be in place before then just in case.

  She takes a deep breath and looks to me, her humor faded. “I’ll wait for your signal. Then you have to head to the rotunda right away. The staff won’t evacuate the same way as the visitors. You don’t want to get grouped with them once everyone starts moving.”

  I hold her stare a moment, wishing I could tell her that despite her obstinance, I’m totally floored by her compulsion to help me, to be with me, to stand beside me at all costs. I lift her hand and kiss the back of it. “I’ll meet you back here after.”

  Her eyes get glassy before she lurches forward to hug me one last time. The next time I hold her like this, we’ll be free of Simon. And if we’re not, I might never hold her like this again. I close my eyes and push away the possibility. Isabel’s plan is a good one. If Keegan doesn’t fuck things up, I should be able to get out of this with my freedom and Isabel with hers.

  “I love you,” she whispers against my ear.

  When she pulls away, I kiss her gently, unwilling to say it back but silently vowing I’ll tell her every day for the rest of our lives if we survive this. Until then, I just need one thing from her.

  “Be careful.”

  “You too.” She touches my face before getting out and walking hurriedly down the path toward the visitor center.

  Makanga puts the car into gear and drives us around to the north side of the block. “You good?”

  “Never been better.” It’s a lie, of course.

  “You going to make it clean, I hope?”

  I meet his reflection in the rearview. “It’s going to be what it’s going to be.”

  We’ve reviewed everything a few times, everything except what’ll happen once I’m finally alone with Simon. If this goes sideways, Makanga and Isabel will at least have the benefit of plausible deniability. Besides, I can map everything down to the minute, and something could and very likely will change. At the end of the day, all I care about is making sure Simon can never hurt anyone ever again.

  The minutes tick by. Simon strikes me as someone who arrives right on time, never late and not a minute too soon, so I plan for that. Five minutes till, I reach for the door handle.

  “If I don’t come out right away, you get her out of here. Don’t wait for me. Got it?”

  Makanga doesn’t answer, but I know he’ll probably err on the side of saving his own ass even if Isabel begs him to hang around. I take his silence as affirmation and start the walk toward the north entrance. Isabel wasn’t wrong. Getting into the building with easy access to Keegan’s office is the biggest hurdle. As long as Morgan’s staff pass does the job, it’s one less thing for me to worry about. But I’ve learned to take nothing for granted. Things could get messy really fast.

  Once I’m inside, the security guard checks my pass and waves me toward security. I lay my leather bag on the roller belt and step through the metal detector. No beeps. I wait for it on the other side, hands tucked into my pants pockets, feeling as confident as a slimy politician who pads his government salary with bribes from monsters like Simon.

  I collect my bag and meander the halls until I find the maze of underground offices below the Senate floor where Keegan and every other senator can enjoy a meeting place away from their primary offices. The journey is shockingly unremarkable. The cinder-block walls are painted sunshine yellow. The signs are little more than shorthand directions for people who haven’t already familiarized themselves with these pathways.

  I pause outside Keegan’s office, listening for voices inside. All I can hear are footsteps echoing through the connecting halls. The very high possibility that Simon could be on the other side of this door is almost too good to be true. I can still remember when Jay told me he was a shadow. A shadow I’ve found not once but twice.

  My heart beats faster. Not from fear but from something akin to glee. I’ve never been so invested in someone’s demise, and I don’t think I ever will be again. No one deserves this more than Simon.

  I put my hand on the knob and open the door. From his seat on one of the fancy upholstered chairs, Simon glances up and smiles automatically. It fades quickly as I shut the door behind me. I unbutton my jacket, set my bag on the lacquered coffee table, and take the seat opposite him.

  I fold my hands across my lap as a triumphant chorus of trumpets and horns plays in my mind.

  “Simon. At long last,” I say, unable to school my unabashed grin.

  His already pale complexion seems to drain a fraction. “Tristan.” He says my name awkwardly, like he’s not sure I’m really, truly sitting across from him.

  “You remember me. I’m flattered. Have we already met? I probably wouldn’t remember if we had.”

  I’m still smiling, even as the truth burns at the edges of my internal celebration.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I don’t even try to stop myself from laughing. It’s loud and feels good and ends with a cleansing kind of sigh. “Sorry. I’ve just been wanting to meet you for such a long time. This is a real honor.”

  He doesn’t seem to share my sense of humor. He glances to the door.

  “Keegan’s going to be late,” I say, quickly smashing any hopes he might be dreaming up for an escape. “Hope you don’t mind if we catch up while you wait. I’ve been trying to fill in the blanks a little lately.”

  “I don’t know what you had in mind, but this is hardly the time or the place.”

  I shrug.

  “We should take this meeting elsewhere. My hotel is close by. We can discuss business there.”

  To his credit, his stony expression gives little away. After so many kills, I’ve gotten used to all the desperate pleas and telltale signs of crippling fear. I’m feeling strangely bereft in the face of Simon’s admirable self-control. There’s still time to break him, though.

  “Not a chance,” I finally say.

  He doesn’t blink. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

  I take a deep breath, all too aware of our limited time but committed to doing this just right.

  “You know, you’re lucky I never killed Isabel.”

  “Why is that?” His tone is flat and uninterested.

  “Because if I’d gone through with it and then found out what you’d done to me, you’d have been dead three seconds after I walked through the door. Somehow she’s managed to convince me that I still have a little of my humanity left, even though you and Jay did your very best to destroy it.”

  “Your humanity? That’s a little too sentimental considering you’re lucky to have your life. You were nearly dead when we found out about you. We could have let you die in the ER tent at Camp Dwyer.”

  “I feel so blessed.”

  He shakes his head almost imperceptibly. “Think what you want, Tristan, but you were spared a life of inescapable post-traumatic stress. You had no family, no job, no home to go back to. You had no one until you had us.”

  I hate Simon a little more with every passing second. His subtle arrogance. The surety in his tone.

 
“You’re wrong. I had Isabel. If you hadn’t fucked up my memories, chances are pretty high we would have been together.” I ignore the pang of emotion that comes with saying those words out loud. “Gotta love when life comes full circle, though.”

  “Sorry if I don’t have time for your trip down memory lane,” he says through gritted teeth. “You don’t want to be in the Company anymore. I get it. Needless to say, this isn’t a good fit. Let’s move on.”

  “Move on? So you’re not going to send someone after me every chance you get and hope they’ll have better luck than Crow and Web and Townsend and Dunny? It’s getting to be a pretty long list at this point.”

  “Exactly. Enough is enough.”

  “What about Jay? You letting her off the hook too?”

  He doesn’t reply, doesn’t move a muscle.

  Another smile plays at my lips. He wants her most of all. If Townsend was telling the truth, Jay existing outside of Simon’s control is far worse than the menace I’ve become to his operation.

  “I bet that really screwed things up for you when she started talking to Crow about your clients. Especially with her being a signer on your supersecret offshore accounts and all.”

  His nostrils flare ever so slightly. “She’s an inconvenience, same as you. Something I can easily work around.”

  I make a small sound of disbelief because there’s no working around people who won’t disappear completely.

  He pushes his glasses up his nose. “Is it the money you’re after? That’s an easy problem to solve. We have truckloads of it. Name your price, and let’s end this conversation. I have work to get back to.”

  I laugh. “You think it’s all about money, huh?”

  “What more could you possibly want?”

  I stare at him a long time, knowing I’ll never get what I truly want. No matter how much I long for it. No matter what miracles anyone promises.

  “I want my memories back, Simon. That’s what I really want. I’d do nearly anything to have them, because I have no idea who the hell I really am. My life started the day Jay sent me to Rio. Outside of a few nightmares and flashbacks, there’s no going backward from that point.”

  He has the decency not to feed me any more bullshit about saving my life.

  “What would you do if you were me?”

  He offers a tight smile. “I wouldn’t have made your choices. I would have done my job. We wouldn’t be sitting here if I were in your shoes.”

  “And given the choice, you would have opted for this.” I gesture to myself. “This interrupted existence. Years wiped away, just like that.” I snap my fingers.

  He doesn’t hesitate. “I’d take that over death. Any day.”

  I drag the backs of my fingers along my freshly shaved jaw, contemplating the shrewd, awful human sitting across from me. Then I reach inside my jacket. Simon visibly tenses, which encourages me. I withdraw a thin syringe from my inside pocket and roll it between my fingers.

  “Because you supposedly saved my life, I’ll let you think it over a little more. You only have a minute because I’m in a bit of a rush. Then you’ll have to make a decision, or I’ll do what I think is best for you. Same way you did for me.”

  His eyes are wider. His breathing heavier. It’s a heady rush.

  “What is that?” His voice is barely a whisper, his gaze fixed on the cheap syringe as I lift it higher.

  “Townsend says you call it Elysium Dream.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Isabel

  The rotunda is filled with tourists, most congregated around the half dozen or so red-jacketed tour guides speaking animatedly about the history of the building and the activities that go on in the nearby House and Senate galleries. The architecture is impressive. A colorful and awe-inspiring fresco crowns the room. I’m sure it would all be fascinating if I weren’t here for a much more sinister purpose.

  My heart is in my throat as I wait for Tristan’s signal and simultaneously scope out the possibilities. But there are so many people here. No doubt Tristan and I can get lost in this crowd. Hell, we’ll be lucky to find each other in it once things start happening.

  I check my watch for the hundredth time, then my phone. Time keeps marching on with no word from Tristan.

  Hurry up, hurry up.

  What could be taking Tristan so long? Did Keegan show up too soon? Is Simon late? Of all the possible scenarios, the worst one is Tristan losing sight of the plan to get in and get out as quickly as possible. He wants this too much. I worry he’ll drag it out or make a mistake.

  I nearly jump out of my skin when my phone rings. I look down, expecting Tristan, but my father’s number lights up the screen. He called a couple of times this morning, but I avoided him. I should now too, but something compels me to pick up.

  “Dad?”

  “Where the hell are you?” His tone isn’t soft or forgiving, which isn’t easing the steady rise of my panic.

  “I’m…I’m fine.”

  “Tell me you aren’t there with him. Damn it, Isabel, tell me you weren’t that stupid.”

  Lashing back only adds to the threat of discovery. I’m trying not to stand out, even in this busy crowd. Screaming into my cell phone at my father will definitely get me noticed.

  “I have to go.”

  I’m ready to hang up when he yells again.

  “Don’t you dare hang up on me. You’re going to stay on with me until this is over. What’s going on?”

  “Tristan’s with him now,” I say quietly. “At least I think so. I’m waiting to hear from him.”

  “What are you doing there? There’s no reason for you to be that close. He can handle this without you.”

  “Maybe he can, but I wasn’t going to risk it. He needs a diversion once it’s done. Something that will give us a head start so we can get out of DC before anyone finds out what’s going on.”

  He’s quiet for too long, and wherever he is, I’m certain I’m breaking his heart a little more.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. You know I can’t stay.”

  “You can always stay. I’ll protect you. That’s what I’ve been doing, haven’t I?”

  “Yes, you have, but you have enough to go on now. You don’t need me there to help with an investigation. Keeping me around is only going to remind Rivero that he hasn’t unearthed all my secrets.”

  “If you disappear, he’s going to want them even more.”

  “Not if you talk to him. Keep him focused on the important things.”

  “Isabel,” he exhales tiredly. “We just got you back.”

  I close my eyes and shake my head, even though he can’t see it. “I’m not a little girl anymore. Tristan’s my home now.”

  Even if it means being on the run with him. And if the authorities figure out that we’re involved in Simon’s death, we could be on the run for a long time.

  A large group of tourists meander by, a short brunette guiding them along, pointing skyward toward the oculus of the dome. “You’ll see George Washington is one of the figures depicted, and he is flanked by two mythological figures, the goddesses Victoria and Liberty.”

  The crowd shuffles along as I glance around nervously, wishing Tristan would show up or reach out. The not knowing is burning a hole through my stomach. Suddenly I’m petrified he didn’t even get past security. Was I wrong to push this plan on him?

  “Dad, what if this doesn’t work?”

  “Then you get the hell out of there. You shouldn’t be there to begin with. I can’t believe he brought you into this.”

  I can’t mistake the anger in his voice—resentment directed at Tristan that I thought I’d never have to hear again.

  “I didn’t give him a choice. I never do.”

  He sighs. “God help me, you’re just like your mother.”

  TRISTAN

  “You’re bluffing.” Doubt and uncertainty lace Simon’s words.

  I lift an eyebrow, amused that he thinks so. “I have one job, and I do it pretty well. Bluffi
ng doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

  A bullet is a bullet. I don’t play games. I am enjoying watching the sweat start to bead on Simon’s forehead, though. I could spend hours getting off on his fear, and it would never be enough.

  “You won’t get away with this,” he says.

  I smile. Yes, I will, you evil son of a bitch.

  “I’m sure that everyone will get exactly what they deserve. Like all those soon-to-be junkies who are going to be lining up for your new miracle drug before too long.”

  He swallows hard. “It’s a business.”

  “A business that’s facilitating a massive flow of drugs into the US. How many people have to die for you to call it a success?”

  “People die all the time. When it’s all said and done, Felix will save millions of lives.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “I know so.”

  I tilt my head. “Why not let Felix succeed on its own merits, then? Or is that not exciting enough for you? It’s not enough to have a win. You had to orchestrate a nationwide crisis to make it a real smash hit?”

  “You have a lot to learn about how the world works, Tristan.”

  I fidget with the syringe. “You’re probably right. I’m sure there are a lot of people who are really impressed with this whole operation. That’s how you formed your little club, right? Collect a bunch of power-mongering billionaires who don’t care about playing with people’s lives if it gives them a thrill. Keep moving the line on what’s acceptable until you’re knee deep in something like this, and it doesn’t even feel wrong.”

  “What you don’t realize is that it’s going to happen with or without me. Killing me isn’t going to change anything.”

  “I didn’t say I was going to kill you.”

  He looks to the door again, which reminds me of the time. I push my sleeve up to glance at my watch casually. “You’re right. We should probably get this over with.”