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Darkness their only path to the light.
“All right,” Ice said, taking a slow breath, shaking his head, shrugging lazily, then kissing her gently on the lips. “First we kill your asshole father.Thenwe get your head examined.”
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“I should have my head examined for agreeing to go along with this.” Kaiser glanced over from the front passenger seat towards Benson, who was coolly steering the boat-sized Ford Crown Victoria around Dupont Circle on route to their showdown in Georgetown. “You do realize this is complete insanity, right, John?”
“There’s a fine line between madness and genius.” Benson flicked his gaze at the rearview mirror to where he could see Jack Wagner sitting alert and upright in the back seat. “What do you think, Jack? You regretting getting on board the Darkwater crazy train yet?”
Jack shot a glance at the mirror, his eyes narrowed with focus. “No, sir.”
Benson paused a beat. “How about your brother? Think he’s regretting it yet?”
Jack’s gaze sharpened to where Benson thought it might shatter the mirror. But Jack said nothing, just stared a hole into Benson’s reflection before turning away and gazing out the window.
“You heard from him?” Benson asked quietly, already knowing the answer from Jack’s silence. Yeah, Jack had heard from Ice. If not, Benson would already be a dead man. Jack had been dangerously pissed off about how Benson had knowingly let a CIA NOC assassin go after Ice without sending in backup. Sure, Benson had told Jack about the State Department alert confirming Scarlet was dead—which meant Ice was probably alive. But there’d been no reaction from Jack, like maybe he already knew Ice was alive. “Figure you two brothers have burner phones that even I don’t know about.”
Jack ignored the question, instead responding to Benson’s earlier quip. “Ice joined Darkwater because of me, not you. If he gets killed on this mission it’s on me, not you.”
“Really? Because I got the distinct impression that you were damn close to slitting my throat when you found out I’d cut Ice loose with an assassin on his tail.” Benson took a left turn, then a right, slowed down as they approached the brownstone-lined streets of Georgetown.
Jack grunted, flashed a wicked look at Benson’s eyes. “Delta guys don’t slit throats, Benson. We’re trained to slide the knife into the lower back, right into the kidney. Throat-slitting only happens in Hollywood. It’s messy, noisy, and unreliable. You’re more likely to get your fingers bitten off than make a clean cut.”
Benson chuckled. “You hear that, Martin? Kid says we aren’t in a Hollywood movie, so make sure you don’t try any heroics.” Benson shifted in his seat, the bulletproof vest beneath his shirt a bit too tight for his liking. Still, it was a necessary precaution, and he’d insisted that all three of them vest up. He glanced at Kaiser, who was gazing out the window at the silent brownstone homes glowing in the soft yellow light of elegant wrought-iron streetlamps. “But seriously, Martin. You stay behind Jack at all times. You’re just window dressing.”
“Thought I was bait.” Kaiser cracked a half-grin, then sighed and nodded. “All right, but this is going to be a nonevent. Rhett’s not stupid enough to try anything. He knows that even if Paige flipped on him, it’s still just her word against his. The guy lives and breathes plausible deniability, just like we do. He’s going to play it cool, pretend like he knows nothing about anything, like this really is just a mundane security walkthrough.” He chuckled darkly. “Hell, we’re about as likely to get provoked as he is. Make surewedon’t lose our cool and give Rhett a reason to defend himself and take us out. Wouldn’tthatbe a twist worthy of your games, John.”
Benson smiled tightly. “We’ll get to him. There’s still the video from thirty years ago.” Benson noted Jack’s head move, a quizzical frown breaking on the former Delta’s clean-shaved face. But Jack stayed silent. Benson continued. “I’ll hint that maybe it gets leaked to Robinson, perhaps even theTimesand thePost. Might not put him in prison, but would certainly kill his chances to be the next Director.”
Kaiser snorted. “He’ll call that bluff. Rhett’s sharp enough to know I would never allow you to leak that video. It would be an invitation to the FBI to stick their nose into Company business. And nobody wants that. Hell, Robinson might get me fired just for leaking it. And in the end it probably wouldn’t hold up in court against Rhett anyway—especially since there’s no body.”
Benson chuckled darkly. “Well, there is a body. Just not a dead one.”
Jack cut in now. “Anything I need to know here, Benson? Secret video evidence? Bodies that aren’t dead? Fill me in anytime.”
Benson grinned. “Nah, nothing you need to worry about. You keep your secrets and I’ll keep mine.”
Jack flinched, but said nothing. Benson was impressed. The guy was a good soldier who respected the chain of command. But he was an even better brother. His loyalty to Ice came first. Benson was a distant second.
Good to know. He was right to bring Jack along.
Question was, who was Jack bringing along?
Benson was tempted to ask. Jack was obviously in touch with Ice, but Benson didn’t know much more than that. His CIA tech-guy had been watching the flight manifests coming out of Mumbai, monitoring all communications with the U.S. Embassy, tapping into Edwin Moses’s phones just in case Ice and Indy reached out to him for help. But nothing had popped up, which made Benson wonder whether Ice and Indy were just laying low until the Scarlet thing blew over or if they were flying high, somehow on their way back to the States.
Again Benson thought to ask Jack point blank. But he held off. Benson understood that Jack and Ice were probably suspicious of his motives.
And they were right to be suspicious.
Because the dark truth was that this game had gotten far bigger than just Ice and Indy. Benson couldn’t be certain how it would play out. Couldn’t be sure if Indy and Ice were fated to be at the center of this game or destined to be collateral damage.
After all, Benson’s beloved Sally had been collateral damage once.
Fate didn’t play favorites.
Destiny didn’t give a damn.
So Benson kept his trap shut, told himself not to try and force fate’s hand, not to make the mistake of thinking he could direct destiny. He couldn’t let his own emotions lead him astray. Yeah, he’d actively recruited Ice into Darkwater. He’d personally brought Indy into the CIA. If they got killed on this mission it would absolutely weigh heavy on Benson’s conscience.