Sleeper Cell Super Boxset (28 page)

Dylan touched the now very tan flesh where his wedding ring used to sit. The gold band was still somewhere at his house, tucked away in a box full of old items from his marriage with Evelyn. He’d only stopped wearing it six months ago, long after the divorce was finalized. He looked to Cooper. “You still have any way of getting in contact with the DEA?”

“There’s one guy, but I can’t be positive he’s not in Perry’s pocket, too,” Cooper answered.

“Call him anyway. We don’t have a lot of options at this point. And unless you can convince your guy to have a full show of force, then tell him not to bother. If we can’t capture Perry, then we’ll have to expose him. Have you found anything else in regard to proof?”

“No. The one witness I had who could have identified him in bribing the harbormaster was killed by my partner. Perry’s reach is deep, Dylan. All we have to go on right now is the computer chips.”

“And this.” Dylan picked up the piece of hardware that he’d stolen specifically on Perry’s instructions and tossed it over to Cooper.

She rolled it over in her hands. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, but Perry wants it more than the other stuff. I don’t know if it’s true, but he told me that he hadn’t told anyone else on the mission about that device. Regardless, whatever it is, it must be important.”

“I’ll make some calls.”

Dylan handed her the satellite phone, and she ascended to the deck. He wondered what the DEA would ask in return. With Dylan’s face on every federal most-wanted list in every agency across the country, he could guess what they’d want. “Mark, if I don’t get Sean back, I won’t make it out of this alive.” He watched Mark’s face turn white then a fierce red as he tried to dismiss Dylan’s words. “Peter’s a good man. Mary will be well taken care of. But I’ll need you to keep an eye on her, make sure she’s okay. She’ll need a familiar face if things get worse.”

“You need to quit talking like that, you hear me? You’re going to make it out of this. Sean is going to make it out of this, and the two of you are going to live long after this old man is dead.”

Dylan wanted to believe Mark. He wanted to believe that they’d overcome, but he still wasn’t sure what that would cost him. The night Zack had died when they were stuck in the cabin, with the boat capsized, a small portion of him believed that his son died so that he could live. Evelyn died so Sean could live. Death always seemed charge one life for another. But Dylan didn’t know what Death’s price would be this time.

Chapter 12

It wasn’t a large group that showed up, but those who were there, Cooper vouched for personally. The director of the DEA sat across the small table and watched Dylan as he looked over the paperwork they’d typed up. “We’ll make sure you’re in solitary and that you have ample opportunities to visit your children, Mr. Turk.”

Minimum security. Life in prison. Visitation rights.
All of it was there, in addition to Director Moringer’s signature and that of the Massachusetts attorney general, who’d even made the effort for the trip to see Dylan in person.

“I can assure you that these terms will hold up, Mr. Turk.” The attorney general was a skinny man and somehow managed to look like he was balding even with hair covering his entire head. It looked thin, like a stiff wind would be able to scatter each individual hair like dandelion fluff. “The public eye will hate you for a while, but once the trial is over and you’re locked up, you’ll be forgotten.”

Except for in the eyes of my children.
Sean and Mary would also carry the weight of the accusations made in court and the inevitable conviction. His stained name would become theirs, but at least they would be alive, and Dylan considered that better than the alternative.

Dylan set the papers down and rubbed his face. “I sign once Sean is out of Perry’s hands and far away from any place Perry can reach.”

Moringer looked to the attorney general, who nodded in agreement. “We already have a unit that picked up your daughter and your ex-wife’s husband, Peter. He’ll be listed as the primary guardian once you’ve been charged.”

“Is there anyone else you would like to have partial custody of your children, Mr. Turk?” the attorney general asked.

“Yes. Mark Hurley. Make sure he has visitation rights and that Peter can’t block him out of seeing them,” Dylan answered. If he was going to be behind bars, then the knowledge that there was someone looking out for his kids in addition to Peter would make the time a little easier.

“We’ll add that in for the final draft.” The attorney general picked up the papers and tucked them into his briefcase. “For the record, Mr. Turk, I don’t think there is a father in this country who wouldn’t have tried to do what you’ve done to protect their children. I have two of my own, and I would hope I’d have the resolve you’ve shown.”

The attorney’s consolation did little to ease Dylan’s nerves. He wasn’t doing this to set out to be a martyr for fathers or set some shining example of grit. There was an overwhelming debt that needed to be paid, and this was the only way he knew how to pay it. And if it meant his life, then so be it.

Now, with the support of the DEA, the only thing left to do was contact Perry, set up a time and place, and prepare for the exchange. Neither Dylan nor his newfound allies were sure what Perry would find out about their deal. They assumed that with Moringer allocating much of his resources, something would tip Perry off, but they had no idea how much of that information would be passed along to Perry or who was still working for him.

It was odd watching the officials know just about as much as what Dylan had. For the longest time, he’d always assumed that the government knew everything, tapped into their homes, their lives, corrupt and cruel. But in the end, those establishments were only made up of men. Men who experienced fear and doubt, men susceptible to greed and the faults of power. They were not the figures Dylan had expected. They were only the shells of men he’d once thought they were. And this altercation with Perry could mean the death of many of them, perhaps all of them if they failed.

***

The schematics and maps were scattered over Perry’s desk. He’d used every last bit of intelligence and influence he had to try and locate whether the Navy or Air Force had any other prototypes in existence like the one that Dylan had taken, and so far, he’d found none.

Perry crumpled one of the maps in his hand angrily and threw it against the wall in frustration. He gritted his teeth and collapsed into his chair. He hated the limitation his position offered. He should have pushed farther, faster. He could have done it; there were a number of times when he could have easily fallen into the director’s chair for Homeland, but the risk was too great, and he needed to stay under the radar to avoid scrutiny.

The climb to power was often messy and degrading. Slugging your way through the muck and grime, looking to that circle of light in the sky. There was nothing glamorous about it, which was why Perry had done so well.

The superficial gods and vices that so many of his peers had worshiped had dulled the blades that were their minds. They focused on clothes, hair, cars, houses, jewelry, phones, watches, anything that flashed, shiny things that caught their eye and were just as easily discarded once something new was seen.

The scars that covered more than eighty percent of Perry’s body were the only things that seemed to catch the eyes of the people that he came into contact with over the years. There were times when he could still feel the heat. He’d close his eyes, and the flames would dance around him, licking his skin and singeing whatever clothes he wore.

Perry unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, loosened his tie, and grabbed the bottled water on his desk. He drained half of it, and then his phone rang. The caller ID was the same satellite phone that Dylan had used before. “I was wondering when you’d reach out.”

“I don’t have anything else to offer you except the computer chips and my life. If both are needed for my son’s freedom, then so be it.”

“Straight to business, I see. Did it surprise you, Captain? What you felt when you watched your ex-wife die? Did you reminisce about all the good years? All of the times you laughed? All of the times you were happy?”

“I’ll text you the locations where you’ll drop off Sean and where you’ll meet me. They’ll both be at the same time. Once I hear that Sean is safe, you’ll have what you want.”

“You know, I’ve heard rumblings of Director Moringer of the DEA putting together a unit. I wonder what that’s for?”

“You’ll have the locations and times within the hour. If you do not comply, the deal is off, and other avenues will be taken.”

The call ended, and Perry tossed the phone onto the desk, smiling. The captain was broken but still trying to put the pieces back together. Perry knew that Cooper would go to Moringer; it was the only play that they had left, but the moment Perry showed up, they’d have the evidence they needed to seal their case. There was no longer any room for failure.

***

Cooper strapped a bulletproof vest around Dylan’s bare chest before he pulled his shirt on. Dylan tucked the pistol into the ankle holster then pulled his jeans down around to cover it. Dozens of DEA agents were going through similar preparations: loading weapons, looking over maps, strapping on helmets, Kevlar, and any other piece of protective gear they had.

“Everything feel all right?” Cooper asked, giving him a look over.

“Yeah.” The Kevlar felt a little bulky and tight under his shirt, but he was able to get used to it quickly enough. Once Cooper was fitted, the two of them walked over to join Moringer with a group of officers. Moringer was pointing to different locations on the map.

“From what we’ve seen so far in regard to tactics, the terrorists seem to have some military training,” Moringer said. “With that in mind, we should expect them to be prepared for an assault and for any attempt on our end will be met with deadly force.”

“What about the team to pick up Sean?” Dylan asked.

“Agent Cooper will be handling your son’s extraction.”

It wasn’t what Dylan had expected. When he turned around, Cooper finished loading the magazine into the rifle then slung the strap over her shoulder.

“I’ll make sure he comes home alive, Dylan,” Cooper said. “You have my word.”

Dylan gave a light nod, and then Moringer checked his watch. “We’ve got at least a two-hour drive before we get on site, and I’d like to show up before Perry and his men do. Tell your men we’re rolling out, and do not let them engage until we have confirmation of Dylan’s son in our custody.”

Dylan picked up the computer chip and the other small device for the exchange and watched Cooper climb into a separate truck to head to Sean’s site. The doors to the back of his own closed, and the truck lurched forward. The trip felt longer than the scheduled two hours. When they arrived, the sun was still up.

The location was a small field surrounded by trees. The field was barren with the exception of a small bench and a lone tree placed right in the middle. Moringer wouldn’t allow Dylan out until everything was in place, and even then it was only to stand outside of the vehicle.

One of the DEA agents outfitted a small radio into Dylan’s left ear and did a communications check so Dylan could hear what was happening with his son. Dylan gave a thumbs-up, and the agent left him alone. He stood there by the truck, his weight shifting on his feet until the sun went down, and Moringer gave word that a caravan of vehicles was on its way.

Dylan sat under the tree, on the slanted bench, and ran his fingers along the rough wood nervously. When his heart pounded, it sounded like a thumping echo in his head. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark night, and Moringer’s voice whispered in his ear.

“Five vans just pulled onto the road. Stand by.”

The headlights glowed from the vehicles through the trees then flooded the open field as they turned off the dirt and onto the grass. All five pairs of lights shone on Dylan, and he held up his hands and squinted from the brightness.

Car doors slammed shut, and a shadow blocked one of the headlights. Dylan lowered his arm, and while he couldn’t see the man’s face, he already knew who it was.

“You look well, Captain,” Perry said, walking over and joining Dylan on the bench. He leaned back. “Better than I thought you would, considering the circumstances.”

“We have a visual confirmation on your son,” Moringer said. “Cooper is almost in position for the trade.”

Dylan tried to look between the vans at the shadows of the men standing outside. The weight of the pistol at his ankle felt clunky and heavy. “Once I hear that my son’s safe, you’ll have what you want.”

“Will I?” Perry asked. “How many men did Moringer bring? Hmm? Twenty? Thirty? It won’t make a difference.” Perry picked at his fingernails. “I suppose I could just ask.” He leaned in close to Dylan and spoke loudly. “I hope you’re well, Moringer!” Perry leaned away and threw his head back and laughed.

“You’re not getting anything until I hear that my son is safe,” Dylan repeated, trying to cut through the maniac’s laughter.

“Did you ever stop to ask yourself why, Captain?” Perry asked, the fit of laughter dying down. “Why you? Out of all the ships, out of all the people who go out on the water every day, who live here, who have done things more terrible than you could ever think of, why did I pick you?”

“Pick me?” Dylan asked.

Moringer whispered in Dylan’s ear. “Cooper is about to engage in transition. Stand by.” A light rumble echoed in the distance. Dylan looked into the night sky, but Perry seemed oblivious to the noise.

“If I were in your position, I would be asking myself that question,” Perry said. “But perhaps Agent Cooper didn’t have a chance to tell you everything she found. The harbormaster who ignored your Coast Guard call? How convenient it was when the terrorists came right into your path?”

The noise thundered again, growing louder, constant. Dylan shifted his foot closer to his body. His hand gently pulled up the denim of his pant leg. “You did all of this? Why?”