Origin - Season One (27 page)

Mike looked at him, frowning. He was about to say something, but Francis held up a hand. “She was a U.S. Citizen, guilty of nothing more than sleeping with a man she didn’t know. The man turned out to be a Saudi prince. The order came from Weaver, but the request was made by a minister in the Saudi government. It’s not something I’ll ever be able to live with, but I’m telling you to make a point. I thought that was the end of the line. I broke into the Fed to put an end to it, nothing else.”

“You were one of the operatives for Princip?” Mike asked.

Francis nodded. “You hear about conspiracies, and that one is as screwed up as they come. At least that’s what I thought. Back-room politics, political assassinations, secret covenants between people who are supposed to hate each other, money and oil buying anything that can be bought. But these people don’t fit the picture. You can bet the CIA has no idea what’s on that drive, or what this foundation does either.”

“So you think the Karl Gustav Foundation is part of it?” Mike asked.

“A part, yes. But don’t ask me how.”

“What are you going to do?” Mike asked.

“I have an idea. But I need to know if you’re on board first.”

“On board? Me? I don’t think you get it,” Mike said. “I’ve got a family. My son is still in high school.”

“I know,” Francis said.

“Then you’ll also know that they would be in serious danger if I did anything to piss these people off. Shit, you said it yourself, they’re crazy.”

“They’re not in danger,” Francis said.

“How the hell do
you
know?”

Francis looked up to the sky and closed his eyes. “Because they’re no longer in Arizona.”

Mike stepped back, drew his gun and pointed it at Francis. “What the fuck have you done? If you think you can blackmail me into going along with what you’re planning, you’re as insane as they are.”

Francis didn’t look at him. He picked up another stone and threw it into the water. “They were already being watched.”

“What are you talking about? By who?”

“By men who weren’t overweight ex-cops like the two back there in Times Square.”

“How the hell can you
know
that?” Mike said, almost pleading now.

“Because I had both of them killed after I called you.”

Mike brought both hands to his head and started pacing back and forth like a man hit with a sudden and painful migraine. “Oh, Christ. This isn’t fucking happening. You had two men shot outside my goddamn house?”

“No,” Francis said, still calm. “At the time they were in a hotel in downtown Phoenix. They were under orders to kill your wife and son if it came to it.”

“Bullshit. This is all bullshit!”

“I had them interrogated before they were shot. Trust me, it’s not bullshit.”

“By who?” Mike said, his voice rising to a shout. “Who are these people? Who the fuck are
you
?”

“None of that matters,” Francis said. “The point is you were being watched to see if you could keep your mouth shut. I don’t know if Weaver was behind it or someone else, but the moment you stepped out of line, there would have been no warning, just a double funeral and a chance for you to reconsider your options. You’re a high-ranking member of the FBI; killing you would lead to complications these people would rather avoid.”

“And you don’t think killing my family would have done that?”

“Killed is the wrong word,” Francis said. “They would have died. A car accident or a house fire, most likely.”

“You talk as if you know these fucking people,” Mike said.

“I do know them. I was one of them, remember? It’s the reason I’m still alive.”

“You’re a sick fuck, is what you are. I don’t believe any of it.”

“Then you need to open your eyes and take a good look around, my friend,” Francis said. “Because nothing is what it looks like.”

Mike walked to Francis and raised the gun. Tears were welling up in his eyes and his body had started shaking.

“You talked me into this fucking meeting! You got rid of the men tailing me! You set this whole thing up!”

“Put the gun down,” Francis said.

Mike lowered it slightly but kept it pointed at Francis.

“Thank you,” Francis said. “You’re overlooking the point. I didn’t talk you into anything. I may have given you a direction to walk in, but I think you’d be lying to both of us if you said you hadn’t already decided to go
somewhere
. It wouldn’t have had to be much. Even telling the FBI about Jessops might have been enough. Can you tell me that was never going to happen? Can you honestly say that when your friend’s body washed up on the banks of the Potomac because he knew too much, you would let it lie?”

Mike slowly lowered the gun to his side and sat down on the ground. He wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. “No. I can’t. And I did consider my family before I came here. What do you make of that?”

“I think it makes you a bit of an asshole,” Francis said.

Mike laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“I also think it says something about you that most people can’t claim.”

“What?” Mike said. “That I would sacrifice my wife and son?”

“No. I think it demonstrates a commitment to principle that few people have.”

“Can you tell me where they are?” Mike said.

“I don’t know myself, and that’s the way it should be. Any man that claims he can hold on to a secret no matter what is a fool.”

“But they’re okay?”

“Yes,” Francis said. “They’re safe. The people looking after them are the best I know.”

“So what do we do now?” Mike asked. All the fight had gone out of him. He suddenly felt like a leaf in a storm.

“We’re going on a little vacation,” Francis said.

Mike looked at Francis as if he were insane. “A vacation?”

“There’s a man we need to see who just happens to live outside Orlando.”

Francis held out his hand. Mike took it and Francis pulled him to his feet.

“What about the Foundation?” Mike asked.

“We leave that for now. I have a better plan in mind. We can always come back to it if things get desperate.”

“Get desperate?” Mike said.

Francis pulled a CD from his pocket and held it up. “I said Skyline was my only lead,” Francis said. “But that’s not quite true.
This
is what the whole thing comes down to. The key is in here somewhere. It
has
to be. And I know a man who can help us.”

“In Florida,” Mike said.

“Come on,” Francis said. “We’ll lay low for a few hours and catch the red-eye to Tampa.”

Mike put his gun back in its holster.

“You might as well get rid of that now,” Francis said.

Mike looked at the gun for a moment, then walked back to the edge of the water and threw it as far as he could. He stood for a moment watching the ripples it made then turned and followed Francis back to the road.

“My name is Francis, by the way,” Francis said. “Although not for very long. You’ll need a new name yourself. I was thinking you look like an Edwin.”

“Tell me something,” Mike said. “How did you get Fairchild to give you my name?”

“I told him I was going to send my video to the Motion Picture Academy if he didn’t.”

“Son of a bitch,” Mike said.

“He might be,” Francis said, “But I have a feeling he’s going to be our son of a bitch from now on.”

Lake Commissaires, Quebec
Friday 21 July 2006

1300 EDT

Jesse opened his eyes and scrambled out from under the blanket. Still half-asleep, he reached for the smallest log on the pile by the fireplace and prepared to swing it at the creature stirring at his feet. But when he looked down there was nothing there but the tattered remains of the waterproof jacket he had taken the night before. He noticed he was holding the log in his left hand and looked down to see a dark purple bulge halfway up his right arm. There was a distinct entry and exit wound on either side. His hands and forearms were covered in dried blood and something else he didn’t even want to think about.

Ignoring the pain, he leaned over and prodded the jacket with the end of the log. When he was sure there was nothing alive hiding inside it, he reached down and picked it up. There was a small zipper just inside the lining. The cell phone inside it didn’t look like any he had ever seen. It was a flat oblong shape and made of black brushed aluminum. There was a single line display on the front with a simple nine-digit keypad below it and five small LED lights above. There was no antenna or power button that he could see, and when he turned it over, there didn’t appear to be a battery cover either. All five lights above the screen were red. On the green display the word
Contact
was flashing rapidly. He held the phone for a moment longer then put it down on the mantelpiece above the fireplace.

Amanda was still sleeping. Outside, the rain clouds had vanished to reveal a beautiful summer day. A thick beam of dusty light shone through both windows, creating two bright squares on the floor in front of him. Jesse knelt down beside Amanda and brushed her hair back from her face. Her skin was whiter than usual but not pale, and certainly not blue. Her lips were a healthy red and when he put one hand beneath the blanket and felt her thigh it was pleasantly warm, but not hot. He had no idea how long they had been asleep, but judging by his groaning stomach he thought it might have been ten hours at least.

Jesse removed three of the boards in the floor – they had only been pushed back down slightly – and rummaged inside for something to eat. He found a can of baked beans and a Swiss army knife. He had to put the knife between his teeth to pull out the can opener then squeeze the can between his legs to open it. He ate the beans cold by tipping the can into his mouth like a cup, then repeated the ritual again with a can of ravioli before letting out a long belch.

“How crude you are.”

Amanda was sitting up on the blanket. When she saw his face she put a hand over her mouth. “My god Jesse, are you all right?”

Jesse considered the question and discovered to his own surprise that he was. In fact, he was more than all right, he felt strangely serene. He looked down at his bloodstained hands and smiled. “It’s not mine.”

“What happened?” Amanda said.

“I killed him,” Jesse said.

The statement was casual, almost an afterthought. And yet there was no bravado or false modesty in it.

Jesse walked over to the bed. Underneath it were several gallon jugs of water and a large metal bowl. He poured half a jug into the bowl and began washing his hands. The cuts – there seemed to be about a thousand – stung like hell. He washed his right hand and arm, then tried using the right to do the left, but that was pointless. When he stood back up, Amanda was looking at him with wonder. He’d only seen that look once before. That had been behind the bleachers of Morisson Elementary School about a million years ago. It was a look of guarded admiration.

She stood up, letting the blanket fall to her feet, and only then did Jesse realize that he had been naked the entire time.

Something had happened to him that was difficult to understand and even harder to explain. It didn’t exactly feel like a part of him had died – that half-baked poet’s sentiment had nothing to do with it. It was more like something that had lain dormant until now had woken up. It made him feel about ten inches taller and ten pounds lighter. He hadn’t killed the man because he deserved to die. He didn’t think that would have been enough. He had killed him because Amanda deserved to live and she was his. Call it the coming of age, call it love or call it apple pie, all he knew and all he cared about was that she was alive, and the look on her face said she knew it.

He watched her cross the room, the ray of sunshine from the window moving up her stomach and across one pale breast. Their eyes locked. When she reached him she put her arms around his waist and pushed one side of her face against his chest. He felt a tear spill from her cheek onto his stomach and run down into his navel. His heart began to beat faster. When she looked up at him her eyes were wet, but she was smiling.

“Mandy, I’ve –” he began to say.

She put a finger to his lips and mouthed the words “I know,” then gently pushed him back until his legs were touching the bed. She raised her hands to his shoulders and pushed him down onto the blanket.

“Lie down,” she whispered.

The moment he felt her lips and the hot breath behind them on his ear he was overcome with an urgency he’d never known. She climbed on top of him and began kissing his wounded arm, moving up to his shoulder, his neck and finally his mouth. She reached down between his legs and slowly guided him into her with a soft moan, and for a while, everything that was wrong with the world was right.

When it was over they lay entangled beneath the blanket, lovers, deaf and blind to everything but each other, finding neither the will, nor the need, to ruin the moment with something as meaningless as words. Jesse thought he could have stayed there until the world crumbled to dust had it not been for the steady throbbing in his arm. When he let her go Amanda moaned in protest.

“You need to eat something,” Jesse said.

“I’m not sure I can.”

“How do you feel?” Jesse asked.

“Seriously, you’re asking
me
that?”

“I just meant, you know, do you feel up to walking?”

Amanda smiled. “To the end of the earth and back.”

“Good, because we can’t stay here.”

Jesse got up and went to the hole in the floor. He picked out several cans and lined them up on the board beside him. When he turned to her he saw Amanda was regarding him with a kind of puzzled reverence. He liked that look.

“We’ve got more beans and ravioli, hot dogs, peaches or rice pudding,” Jesse said.

“Rice pudding sounds nice,” Amanda said.

She got to her feet, pulling the blanket over herself, then swayed slightly. Jesse stepped forward to help her, but she held up a hand. “Just a little dizzy. It’ll pass.”

She walked across the room and stood looking at the embers in the fireplace. When she turned around her hand brushed the phone on the mantelpiece and it fell to the floor. She bent down and picked it up. “What’s this?”