He confirmed Angelica had a pot of coffee brewing when he entered the house. She obviously suspected they were going to have a long night. One of many in my life. The pangs of fatigue had already set in. Sometime within the next twelve hours, he'd need serious shut-eye.
He followed Harv into the ground-floor study that connected to the library and opened the sofa bed. Linda showed no signs of awareness as Harv placed her on top of the blanket. If only I could sleep so soundly. He estimated she'd been out for ten minutes or so. If Cantrell's estimate was right, she ought to be showing signs of awareness within the next twenty minutes, and a full recovery in two hours or so.
He asked Angelica to clean up her face and use hydrogen peroxide on her skinned knee.
After Angelica left the study, Nathan said, "We need to call Cantrell and make arrangements to get Linda's dogs, but let's give her a little time. No doubt she's multitasking at the moment."
"Did LG say much before she lost consciousness?"
"Not really," he said. "She was in a twilight state when I found her. The drugs bypassed her filters. It was weird seeing the softer side of her." Nathan doubted she'd retain anything of their discussion just prior to her losing consciousness. He didn't know much about Ketamine, only that it had an amnesia effect.
"The softer side of her?" Harv asked.
"She was . . . unguarded. You know, nice to me. I've always suspected she had it in her, I'd just never seen it before."
"What did she say?"
Nathan's radar went up; he'd seen this before when he'd first started dating Holly. There was little Harv got away with.
"Come on, Harv, out with it."
"Remember when I said I knew for a fact she didn't hate you? After Nicaragua, she told me she didn't. The reason she acted so cold all the time is because she thought you hated her. Look, she was an interrogator, not like Montez, but she got kinda rough on occasion. Think about what we did to Ernie Bridgestone."
He did, all too vividly. It hadn't been something he'd enjoyed.
"Put yourself in her position. She knew what you went through. How do you think she felt every time you looked at her?"
"I was pretty messed up after Montez. It's hard to think about."
"She didn't know how to approach you."
"I was . . . unapproachable."
"Not to me. I didn't let you shut me out."
"You saved my life, Harv. If you hadn't stayed by my side, I would've killed myself."
They'd talked about this a lot over the years, so there was no need to dive into it again. His friend had spent countless hours at his hospital bed, talking him through the emotional turmoil. Nathan's case of PTSD had been as severe as it got.
At times, he felt like Harv was the only person in the world who truly understood him, knew the anger that constantly chewed on his soul. Nathan didn't live one day at a time; he lived one hour at a time. The long grooves marring his face were constant, visible reminders of his ordeal. Thankfully, the crisscrossing network of deep scars on his torso was hidden by clothes. Nathan never took his shirt off in public. Ever. People didn't intentionally stare; it just couldn't be helped. Children were the worst. Some pointed, others hid behind their parents.
A dark entity inside of him fought a near-constant battle to break free of its cage. He called it The Other, for lack of a better name, and it was made of pure rage. Nathan believed it to be a leftover survival mechanism-likely the only thing that had saved him during those endless days of Montez's torture. It no longer ruled him. In fact, he'd learned to tap its energy and use it for constructive purposes. But he had to be careful. As feral as this alternate personality was, it could also be intelligent and cunning. Thinking about what Linda would've gone through at the hands of her abductors, Nathan felt as though a tin cup were banging on the bars of The Other's cage.
Even now, he sensed its eyes snap open and stare straight ahead, unblinking.
No. Not without my permission.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Harv's voice startled him. "You okay?"
"Yeah, just cutting it off."
"How far did it get?"
"Eyes only, it didn't test the bars. How long was I zoned?"
Harv smiled. "Only a few seconds."
Just like that. No judgment. No calling him a freak. No condemnation. It was scary how well Harv understood him. Nathan couldn't begin to imagine the hole in his life should anything ever happen to his friend. "I owe you a lot."
"You're underestimating your own resolve. Look, I'm not trying to make you relive the past. Just know that Linda never hated you. She kept her distance to protect you."
"Protect me? From what?"
Harv didn't respond right away. "She was an interrogator, you were a victim. Let's just leave it at that."
"Okay, okay," Nathan said. "I get it. End of conversation. I won't bring it up again."
"I think that's best."
"So . . . she'll need a familiar face when she wakes up. In fifteen minutes, I'll take the first watch. She may not remember the fight in the kitchen. If she doesn't, I'll tell her about Glen."
"As I recall," Harv said, "he stayed in investment consulting after we rescued him. He must've been doing pretty well to own that house."
"No doubt."
"We need to call Cantrell. She hinted she knows what's going on."
"I'm curious too, but let's give her a few more minutes."
They fell into a comfortable silence for a good minute, as they often did. Neither of them filled the quiet with mindless small talk.
Angelica knocked softly and entered the study with a washcloth for LG's dried blood, a bottle of peroxide, and two giant schnauzers.
"Hey, you guys are supposed to be on patrol."
"I brought them in," Angelica said. "They're curious about your friend."
The dogs extended their noses over the top of the bed and scrutinized Linda's face.
"They don't get many visitors," Harv said.
"I need to take them out more often."
"I give them walks around the neighborhood," Angelica said.
"And I'm sure they appreciate it, but I need to take them to a dog park where they can run around and be dogs."
"They might thumb their noses at the riffraff," Harv said.
"Hey, a purebred will eat a dead gopher alongside the lowest of mongrels."
"You got that right. So will we, if we're hungry enough." His friend's expression changed. "Sorry."
"Forget it, Harv." Nathan walked toward the front door and looked back at the dogs. "Come, you guys, I need you outside a little longer." He made an arm gesture and the dogs bounded out in front of him.
Outside on his driveway, he tried not to think about his tormentor, but it happened anyway. Harv's comment triggered a dark memory. Montez had starved him to the brink of death. He'd been denied food and water for days at a time. Both were hideous, but his hunger hadn't been nearly as bad as the thirst. Being that parched became an enemy all its own. Montez liked to dine in front of him, but not just dine. The jerk had set up a mock five-star restaurant table, complete with nice flatware, wineglasses, cloth napkins, the works. He'd even procured a white tablecloth. Nathan remembered wondering where on earth Montez had gotten all that crap. It had been a cruel ploy, designed to destroy his will to resist. Even though he'd been hungry enough to eat the scraps like a dog, Nathan hadn't caved. Montez made a critical mistake during the interrogation: he'd made it personal, and nobody won a battle of willpower with Nathan McBride unless Nathan allowed it. His dad possessed the same stubborn attitude, the reason they butted heads so often.
To this day, Nathan never wasted food and it sickened him to see how callous Americans could be. Most meals at restaurants were big enough to share, but few did. He didn't condemn wasteful people; they were simply victims of the great disposable culture.
Change subjects, he told himself, but his thoughts had a mind of their own, returning to Rebecca Cantrell and the failed Nicaraguan mission that led to his capture. At the time, she hadn't been high in the CIA's brass, but she'd been involved with the planning of Operation Freedom's Echo from its inception to its demise. Once Nathan fell into Montez's hands, she'd immediately pulled the plug and recalled the other Echo teams. There'd been no choice.
Cantrell took the blame, but it hadn't been her fault. Had she tried to deflect responsibility, he wouldn't have the trust in her he now felt. He admired her willingness to say the buck stopped on her desk-a philosophy he also followed. When Nathan screwed up, he owned the mistake, apologized, and moved on. Simple as that. Narcissism wasn't in Nathan's personality and he hated narcissists with a passion. Harv's oldest brother was a textbook case and the arrogant idiot had alienated everyone in Harv's family.
He looked at the view of La Jolla and felt a pang of guilt about having such a beautiful place. He'd initially refused the CIA's generous offer of restitution, not wanting to gain financially from what he'd gone through. But Harv had stepped in with a different opinion. Not only did Harv insist Nathan take the money, he also got the CIA to triple the amount. Nathan said he'd agree on one condition: he and Harv had to split the money evenly. Harv had risked everything returning to the jungle to rescue him, and he'd told Harv he wouldn't accept any other terms. Harv agreed, investing 75 percent of their lump sum of three million dollars in Apple Inc. stock and the rest, as they say, is history.
Nathan returned to the study and found Harv sitting in a reading chair. "How's she doing?"
"Still down for the count. I really like her hair. It's a striking look, almost exotic."
"I wonder how long it takes to weave those cornrows."
"I'd have to guess hours."
Nathan's phone dinged with a text message. "Here we go," he said.
do you still have the encrypted phone?
He sent "yes."
turn it on. I have to reactivate it.
"She wants us to use the encrypted phone. Good thing she asked us to keep it."
"Yeah, good thing," Harv said slowly.
"Harv-"
His friend held up a hand. "Let's just say she knew we'd need it again."
Nathan sent: 2 minutes "I'll be right back; it's in the basement." He kept a lot of survival gear down there, basically everything needed in the event of a complete civil breakdown. You never knew when you were going to need several thousand rounds of subsonic ammo, a thousand instant meals, or a secure cell phone to call the director of the CIA. For Nathan and Harv, the latter seemed to happen with alarming frequency-the price of being on Cantrell's speed-dial list.
He returned to the study and powered on the phone. He watched its screen go white, then work through a startup process. About forty-five seconds later, it was good to go.
"Maybe we'll get some answers," Nathan said.
"I'm not holding my breath."
"Still don't trust her?"
"Let's just say . . . no, I guess I don't. At least not completely."
Angelica made a final pass along LG's chin with a peroxide wipe, then excused herself from the room, closing the door as she left.
A few seconds later, Nathan's encrypted phone bleeped to life.
CHAPTER 8.
Nathan knew Cantrell would get right to the point. She wasn't much for small talk. For one, she didn't have time for it, and two, it wasn't her style. He put the phone on speaker and said Harv was with him.
"What's Genneken's status?"
"She's still out of it."
"I trust you'll keep someone by her side at all times?"
"No problem, we're planning to."
"Is the gunman secure?"
"Yes, he's handcuffed to the trunk of the same orange tree where you saw my GPS coordinates. The cuffs are disposables."
"Good work. My team's ETA is ten minutes. In your best estimate, can they get in and out undetected?"
"Only from the canyon on the north side of her property. It's how I got in. All they'll need is night vision, it should be an easy entry."
"I'll let them know."
"I have a favor to ask," Nathan said.
"Name it."
"We've got several of our security guards on the way to our homes, but I'd like to supplement them with some FBI special agents."
"I'll need to clear this with Director Lansing first, but given the circumstances, it shouldn't be a problem."
"He's going to ask what it's all about."
"I'll deal with it. I'll see if I can get the same SAs as last time."
"Thank you. What about LG's dogs?" He knew his concern sounded trifling at a time like this, but he'd given Linda his word. Besides, he really liked dogs-more so than most people.