Page 109 of Enemy of My Enemy

Russian General Moroshkin executed a successful coup over President Puchkov’s government last night, while President Spiers was in Russia. The presidents were at the state retreat in Sochi, which was targeted during the attack before the Secret Service managed to rescue President Spiers from the unfolding coup.

Some districts in Russia have resisted Moroshkin’s coup, including the Siberian and the Far Eastern federal districts. Southwestern Russia and the Krais around Sochi have also violently resisted the coup, and there are reports of an insurgency forming in the Caucasus. President Puchkov’s last known whereabouts were in Sochi, but no details have emerged since. Presently, it is unknown whether deposed President Puchkov is alive or dead.

General Kuznetsov was found shot to death outside Sochi. The head of the FSB, Ilya Ivchenko, a close friend of President Puchkov, remains at large.

* * *

Chapter 38

Air Force One

“Yes, I worked for Madigan.”

On Air Force One, over the skies of Turkey, Leslie spoke softly as she lay on the gurney in the medical suite. Monitors beeped beside her, jagged lines in reds and blues set against black screens. An IV went into one nearly emaciated arm. The other was a disfigured, charred, and grotesque mess that she kept hidden beneath a thin sheet.

She was older than her pictures on the mantel. She’d aged, like they all had. Her wrinkles were a little deeper, her skin a little more wan. Sixteen years of deprivation and torture?

Jack perched on a wheeled stool, leaning forward, his hands steepled, covering his mouth like he was too shocked to speak. He’d been frozen like that since he sat down, his gaze locked on to Leslie. He was in sweats and a white undershirt, and mud still clung in clumps to his hair.

Irwin had changed and washed his face and had run a wet comb through his hair at some point. He still looked like career DC, his gray fluffy hair combed to the side, wearing a pair of khakis—wrinkled—and a pullover. He leaned against the medical suite’s counter, arms crossed.

And Ethan stood in the back, watching Jack watch Leslie as his mind stuttered to a halt and refused to work. Refused to process anything beyond the sheer devastation bleeding from Jack. His lover was in agony, and Ethan could feel it, could feel his anguish choking him, even from across the room.

It was the first time they were in the same place since the evacuation.

Jack had carried Leslie off the Osprey, refusing the medics who met them on the flight line at Incirlik. Air Force One waited across the tarmac, fueled and ready to scream back to the United States as the world fell apart around them.

Jack took Leslie to the medical suite onboard, but was pushed out by the doctor and her nurses.

Ethan sat in the conference room in a soaked, muddy daze, and Daniels and Scott stayed at his side.

Later, they were all called back to see her.

“I worked for him in Iraq.” She sent Jack a thin smile. “I was recruited through Jeff to work with him, after my unit was attached to his for interrogations. It was deep black. I couldn’t say anything to you.”

Back then, Jack was a small-time attorney practicing in Austin, and he’d never once thought of becoming the president. Ethan knew Jack’s history almost better than he knew his own.

He watched the memories crash through Jack, his shoulders trembling beneath his stretched-tight T-shirt.

And to top it all off, Leslie had been recruited through Jeff Gottschalk, Jack’s once-friend and deepest betrayal.

“I didn’t know what I was really getting into,” she said softly. Her thin fingers picked at the white cotton sheet, tugging on a frayed string. “And then, my unit was attacked.” Her gaze rose. Her eyes met Jack’s.

A heavy tear hovered at the corner of Jack’s eye. He blinked, and it cascaded down his cheek.

Ethan looked down. Stared at the dark corrugated decking.

“I don’t remember much of the beginning. They say I was in a coma for the first six years.” She shrugged.

By then, Jack was a Senator in Texas’s legislature and was already making a name for himself. Ethan swallowed hard.

“When I woke up, Major—I mean, General Madigan—came. He told me how they’d taken me and used the most advanced medical care in the world on me. That I was lucky to be alive. I was so grateful.” She smiled, and a tear fell down her thin, pale cheeks. “I thought I was going home. That I was about to see you again.”

Jack closed his eyes.

“And then,” she croaked, “he told me how much time had passed. How everyone thought I was dead. How I couldn’t ever go back.”

“Why?” Irwin frowned. “Why did he keep you captive?”