Hell on Wheels (39 page)

“They weren’t our enemies when I sold those weapons,” Aldus hotly declared, amazingly unaware that he’d just been maneuvered into a confession.

Frank really had to admire President Thompson’s skill. The man must’ve been one hell of a lawyer before he decided to throw his hat into the political ring.

“They only turned into our enemies after you stupid, slow-moving politicos failed to sufficiently arm them against the Afghan Taliban. I was doing what needed to be done, goddamnit! What you all,” Aldus swung his arm to include the entire array of Joint Chiefs, “were too scared to do.”

“Really?” General Fuller demanded, interrupting whatever President Thompson opened his mouth to say. Frank was surprised when President Thompson just folded his hands and leaned back in his chair, apparently willing to pass the interrogatory ball to Fuller. “And how did that work out, senator? Did those weapons you sold the Pakistani tribesmen help eliminate the Taliban?”

“Well…” Senator Aldus hesitated, and General Fuller jumped into the gulf. “No!” he barked, slamming his big fist down on the president’s desk. Ali nearly jumped out of her seat at the resounding
boom
, and most of the Joint Chiefs shuffled uncomfortably. Even Frank lifted a brow at the general’s audacity. He couldn’t help but glance at the president’s face to gauge
his
reaction, but Thompson didn’t seem to notice the impertinence. His expression remained supremely calm, totally impassive.

Interesting.

“They didn’t help eliminate the Taliban, because you’d know if you weren’t so goddamned arrogant,” continued Fuller, his face contorted with rage, “that what the Pakistani tribesmen care most about is money and land, not peace or religion or any ideology. They don’t give a shit about the Taliban, except, oh wait! Because, lo and behold, the Taliban were more than happy to
pay
them to use those weapons you so patriotically supplied them with. Only they paid them to kill our soldiers!”

“But, but…” Senator Aldus sputtered.

“But nothing!” Fuller bellowed, and Frank could only cross his arms and stand in awe of the general’s righteous fury.

The man must’ve been a veritable monster out in the field.

“If you hadn’t been busy sitting around fantasizing about yourself as the God of War, you’d have taken more time to read all those shiny dossiers that crossed your desk, and you’d have known what we,” General Fuller threw his big arm out to encompass the room, his chest full of medals jangled with the motion, “have known for years. Which is that Pakistan is the epicenter of Islamic terrorism. My God man, the British government has estimated something like eighty percent of the terror threats they receive have Pakistani connections. And what about Bin Laden? I can verify, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was no surprise to any of us military brass that he was found there. So good job, senator. Like the president said at the beginning of your visit, you armed our enemies.”

Frank watched, fascinated, as Aldus’s eyes darted around the room, searching for some way out of this mess.

Sorry, ol’ chap, but you’re completely fucked.

“I have contacts,” Aldus gushed, all his fight suddenly vanished as he scrambled to find leverage, any leverage. “I’ll give you the names of those who helped me if you guarantee to take the death penalty off the block. I have documents to back up my claims. I’ll tell you who hacked into the Black Knights’ computer system to plant that false assignment to Syria.”

False assignment to Syria…

Frank suddenly felt the very real need to plant a nice fat piece of lead in the senator’s traitorous heart. Unfortunately, the Secret Service had scowlingly disarmed him before allowing him entry into 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. Touchy sonsofbitches.

President Thompson steepled his fingers, seeming to consider with extreme care the senator’s generous offer. They’d been discussing just how to go about getting the names of the senator’s cohorts, now the man was offering them up without so much as a fight.

Spineless.

Frank fought the urge to spit on the floor in disgust, but that antique rug probably cost more than his entire life’s savings were worth.

“I don’t know, Senator Aldus,” President Thompson demurred. The man could certainly act, which probably served him very well in his position. “What do you think, Miss Morgan? Your life has been turned upside down by this man’s actions. Do you think we should offer him a deal?”

Ali, whose spine snapped ruler straight upon being personally addressed by the leader of the free world, knew the score. She’d been thoroughly educated by the president and the Joint Chiefs on the likely outcomes of the senator’s trial before the prodigious man’s arrival.

Life in prison was the steepest sentence the senator would receive. Thankfully, Aldus was the only person in the room who didn’t already realize that.

“Perhaps, Mr. President,” she said, and Frank watched Aldus almost wilt with gratitude. The guy actually seemed to deflate inside his designer suit. “If he answers some of my questions, honestly, I have no problem with you offering him a deal.”

President Thompson regally inclined his salt-and-pepper head.

Frank watched Ali’s slim throat work, and he feared she might just puke again—the damn woman had the gastric fortitude of a broken fire hydrant—but then she courageously turned her attention to Aldus.

“Did you have my brother tortured in order to obtain the whereabouts of those missing files?” she asked, her voice firm and true as a struck bell.

Frank would’ve slapped her on the back for having balls the size of Texas if he wasn’t so keenly interested in the senator’s answer.

“Yes,” Aldus looked ready to faint, his bloodshot eyes glued to Ali’s pretty face as if she was his anchor in a storm, his only salvation.

“Bullshit!” Ghost shouted and everyone, including Frank, jumped at the unexpected explosion. “They never questioned us about files. They never questioned us about anything!”

“I swear I’m telling the truth!” Senator Aldus actually put his hands together in front of him, pleading. “I’m not lying. I hired them to get the location of the files from Morgan, but they never did and then you escaped and Morgan was—”

“Looks like you didn’t get your money’s worth again, senator,” Fuller grumbled. “Guess that’s what happens when you try to negotiate with terrorists!”

“Pete,” President Thompson’s voice was remarkably cool. Frank had never in his life heard anyone use General Fuller’s first name. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d even realized the general
had
a first name. He guessed he’d always kind of assumed Fuller came straight from the womb replete with a buzz cut and sidearm. “Please, let Miss Morgan continue.”

“I don’t have anything more to ask, Mr. President,” Ali whispered, her big eyes bright with tears. “I just wanted to know for sure who was responsible for killing my brother.”

Oh,
no
.

Frank pushed away from the wall, but he was too late the stop the awful garbage spewing from the senator’s traitorous mouth.

“I didn’t kill you brother, Miss Morgan.” The damned man looked almost gleeful when he swung his beady eyes toward Ghost. He tipped his pointy little chin. “That would be the handy work of one Nathan Weller and his big, sharp knife.”

Ghost actually roared, lunging toward the senator.

“Get him out of my sight,” President Thompson shouted above the ruckus, and the Secret Service agents dragged a cursing, screaming Aldus from the room, but not before one of them handed General Fuller a cellular phone.

“Found it in his pocket,” the guy said and Fuller nodded.

Oh man, Frank didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t help himself. He swung his gaze in Ali’s direction and his stomach instantly curdled. She was furiously blinking back tears as she zeroed in on Ghost’s ravaged face. The poor guy was standing in the middle of the room with his eyes screwed shut, as if that could somehow make it all go away.

“Nate?” she whispered. “Is that true?”

When Ghost opened his black eyes, there was enough unspeakable anguish in them to have Frank’s own hardened heart threatening to explode into a thousand sympathetic pieces.

“Yes,” Ghost whispered, his voice a terrible parody of its usually smooth timbre.

Ali choked, then immediately leaned over and puked all over the Oval Office’s fancy antique rug.

Chapter Nineteen

Holy hell.

As if Ali hadn’t already humiliated herself enough over the past couple of days, now she’d gone and done the unthinkable.

Was it against the law to vomit in the Oval Office?

Sure, it was probably okay for the president. Even the leader of the free world had to succumb to an occasional stomach bug, but for a civilian to blow chunks?

She peeked at the pair of solid doors through which the Secret Service agents had just manhandled the screaming senator and waited for them to burst back inside, handcuff her, and throw her into Gitmo for defacing private property or…or dispersing biohazardous material in a government building or whatever.

But no.

No severe looking men in black came to haul her away.

Thank goodness. She wasn’t prison material. Plus, you know, the whole eight-by-ten issue.

She blew out a hard breath and glanced once more in Nate’s direction, but he was gone. She rubbed a shaking hand over her trembling lips, swallowing the bitter-tasting bile that stuck to her tonsils.

“Nate?” She turned to Frank. “Where did he—”

“It’s best if you let Ghost have a few minutes,” he advised gravely.

Choking on tears, she could do nothing but nod.

A few minutes.

She could give him that.

And when he came back, she’d tell him how she couldn’t begin to imagine the unfathomable strength it must’ve taken to mercifully end her brother’s life. And it
must
have been mercy. There was just no other explanation.

She’d tell him how she couldn’t begin to fathom a world without him. How the thought of going back to her staid, boring old life after what’d happened, after what’d passed between them made her want to curl up and die.

She’d tell him the one thing that mattered most. She’d tell him she loved him…

But the seconds stretched to minutes and the minutes stretched to an hour as the men around her discussed the fate of Senator Aldus.

When Frank finally turned to her, the look on his face told her everything she needed to know.

Nate wasn’t coming back.

***

Black Knights Inc. Headquarters

Six weeks later…

“Taking a vacation?” Frank grumbled from the open doorway.

Becky glanced up and quickly back down to the suitcase she was in the process of zipping.

“Yes,” she said, spinning the numbers on the lock before setting the bag on the floor and popping up the telescoping handle.

“Had you planned on telling me,
your
boss
, anytime soon?”

“Just as soon as I made it down the stairs, Boss,” she said, pushing past Frank and heading down those aforementioned stairs. She could hear his big boots pounding down the metal treads behind her. Each percussive step matched the heavy beat of her weary heart.

She hadn’t wanted to do it like this. She’d hoped to have a few precious minutes to come up with a little departure speech, something breezy and urbane, but he’d caught her before she had anything prepared.

Wouldn’t it figure?

He always seemed one step ahead of her. Possessing some sixth sense when it came to a disturbance inside the realm of his finely tuned little world.

And it was that little world she had to eighty-six herself from immediately or she was going to go
nucking
futs—
as Ozzie liked to put it.

“For how long?” he asked, still dogging her heels as she made her way down the long corridor toward the front door.

“A month,” she replied, fighting the sudden urge to burst into tears. She’d been doing that a lot since Patti’s death. Every time she walked by the little brick house on the north end of the Black Knights’ property—the one Dan and Patti had shared. Every time she witnessed the miserable shell of a man that Dan had become. Every time she saw Ghost staring down at his hands as if they were the most obscene instruments he’d ever seen. Every time her big brother cast her a worried look and asked if she was okay. The answer she always gave was yes, but everyone really knew it was a resounding, unspoken hell no. And certainly, every time Frank took another one of his mysterious trips to Lincoln Park—

Yepper. Those had certainly increased over the past six weeks.

And it didn’t take a Fulbright Scholar to figure out that he was going up there to get a little comfort.

Heck, they all needed comforting after what happened. So she couldn’t really blame him for seeking solace in some woman’s arms, but then again, she did. Because it tore her up inside to think of it.