Jaden Baker (79 page)

“He wired it from his personal account,” Gates said. “As of two months ago, Madrid was flush with over half a billion dollars.”

Libby dropped an article reporting a strange incident of twisted metal in Florida, and gave her attention to Gates. “Half a billion dollars?”

Gates nodded as he filtered through other papers in the file, looking for something else. “Here it is. Archcroft received a large sum, two point two billion dollars, two months ago. It was transferred from an offshore account. There’s no name on it. The only note on the transaction is JB002300. That’s the same number on all of these documents.”

“Oh my God,” Libby said, shaking her head, wishing she could throttle Madrid right now, squeeze all the life out of him.

“Archcroft sold him,” Gates said, following his finger down more documents, the table was full of them. “They held an auction ten years ago,” he said, licking his fingers, turning a page. “But he escaped. It looks like his value went up over the years; they sold him for more the second time.”

Libby thought she might be sick.

“To who?” she asked, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She was gray.

“So far I’m not seeing any one person or group identified. Everything is just numbers. It will take a while to decipher. Anyone willing to spend that kind of money to buy a person can’t have good intentions.”

“Jaden could walk into any country, any building, and just look at it and make it explode. He could kill effortlessly. He told me he was a weapon in their hands, that’s why he couldn’t go back,” she said mechanically, recalling the conversation. “I guess I never thought about how destructive he could be.”

“And he wouldn’t leave a trace,” Gates said. “It’s not just a magic trick,” he said. “The level of control you have over people, things, it’s unfathomable.”

“I wonder who it was,” Libby said, her mind roving the countless possibilities.

The cell phone vibrated on the table, making her jump. Gates picked it up and exchanged a look with Libby. It was the hospital. Her insides twisted, her hands were shaky. She started on a barrage of prayers, begging God to spare him. Please let him be okay. There would be no justice in the world if Madrid was allowed to live and Jaden died.

“Special Agent Gates,” he said into the phone. “Yes,” he said, and Libby studied his face, but he’d gone stoic on her again. He nodded into the phone. Was that a good nod, or bad? Was it yes, I understand you did everything you could, or yes, thank you? “We’re on our way,” he said then ended the call.

Libby’s hands were folded on the table. “Did he make it?” she asked, taking a tissue to prepare herself for either answer.

Special Agent Gates heaved a sigh. “Yes.”

They should have taken the stairs, she thought, as the elevator stopped to admit more people. But she had the impression that Gates was stalling. He was about to see his son for the first time. That had to do a number on someone’s head. She was shocked to see him so composed.

Libby didn’t wait for the doors to finish opening, she shoved her way past and darted into the lobby, Gates following her. He grabbed her by the elbow to slow her.

“He’s probably not even awake yet,” he said. “You can wait a second.”

She regarded his facial expression; he had a strong poker face.

“You’re not going in with me?”

“No,” he said, stepping back a little, watching the people milling about, though there wasn’t too much going on. “No, I’m not.”

“But don’t you want to meet him?” Libby asked.

“Maybe someday, if that’s what he wants.” Special Agent Gates felt his pockets, then took out a business card. He scribbled something on the back. “If he asks about me, give me a call.”

“But you’re his—”

“Genetically, yes, but he doesn’t know me,” Gates said, offering a smile to her frown. “I didn’t know he existed until a few hours ago.”

Libby wasn’t going to let him go that easily. Everyone wanted to know where they came from, it was only natural. Jaden wasn’t so different. “But he knows that. It would mean so much to him if you came in.”

“That’s what
you
want,” Gates said, “that’s not what he wants. He’s just been shot and he almost died. He doesn’t want to see me, he wants to see you. Like I said, if he brings me up in conversation, then I’ll come out and meet him. But otherwise, what’s the point?”

She couldn’t believe this. He had a son and daughter and he was just going to leave them? Maybe she didn’t understand the reasoning behind his decision, perhaps she wasn’t equipped with it, but she knew how it felt if a parent wasn’t interested in their child.

“You have so much in common with him,” Libby said.

“What do you think we’d do? Sit around, share a beer, swap stories? I was twenty-six when he was taken in by the Kauffmans. Old enough to have taken him and raised him myself. I would have if I’d known about him. My point is,” Gates said, putting one hand over hers, “I’m just an idea to him, and not a very good one. Now is not the time for me. You don’t have to understand.” He held out the card for her to take. She plucked it from his fingers and slipped it into her back pocket.

When he put it that way, it made sense. Being shot was a traumatic experience, and having a dramatic family reunion after surgery probably wasn’t the right time. She nodded her understanding at him and they proceeded down to the front desk.

“We’re here to see Jaden Baker, I’m with the FBI,” he said, flashing his badge at the nurse. “Could you tell us what room he’s in, please?”

The nurse looked up the room number and gave it to them, but Gates held Libby back.

“May I speak to the surgeon who worked on Joseph Madrid? I understand he’s out of surgery as well?”

So they waited a few minutes, Libby wearing a hole in the floor with her nervous jittering. She wanted to see Jaden so badly she could hardly wait here for a stupid doctor to show up.

When the surgeon finally came, Gates introduced himself then asked about Madrid.

“Surgery went well,” the surgeon said. “We weren’t sure he was going to make it, but he has a strong will to live. We’ll be monitoring him closely over the next few weeks. We expect a full recovery.”

Four bullets to the chest, one to the leg. Five shots at close range and he was expected to recover? This was the worst commercial for a 9mm she’d ever heard. She wondered what round was in that weapon. Maybe she’d write to the manufacturer.

Libby vented her anger and frustration as soon as the surgeon was out of earshot.

“Shot five times!” she whined. “He’s Satan. It’s the only explanation. Why didn’t I aim for his head?”

But Agent Gates was calm, happy even.

“What do I tell Jaden?” she asked, pacing. “How do I tell him Madrid will live?”

The leering grin returned to Gates’ face. “I wouldn’t worry about that,” he said. “Doctors are often wrong.”

She arched an eyebrow, but before she could say anything, he walked away. She followed him to Jaden’s recovery room. Gates stopped short of going in; he looked through the window.

Jaden was sleeping, looking peaceful. They’d put him in the standard issue backless nightgown, and the short sleeves exposed the Archcroft tattoo that she’d first seen the day they met. In a hospital, like tonight.

“What’ll happen to Archcroft?” Libby asked.

“We have their secrets,” he said, staring at Jaden. “We’ve seized their funds. Which reminds me,” he faced her. “I’m having Madrid’s funds transferred to an account in Jaden’s name.”

“What?” she asked, flabbergasted. “Half a billion dollars?”

“Madrid’s cut for his sale. He deserves it. It is, after all, money paid for him. Don’t you think he should have it?”

It was just so much money. It would allow him to do anything he wanted. Yes, he deserved it.

“He’s handsome,” Gates said, smiling to himself. “Goodbye, Miss James. I hope we’ll be in touch.” He shook her hand, then without another word, he walked away, his shiny black shoes clopping across the floor.

Libby took Jaden’s hand, kissed it, and held it in both of hers. His hair was shorter than when he cut it himself months ago. She marveled at how good he was, in spite of all he’d experienced. She had so many questions about him when she first saw him. He was just a walking question mark, a mysterious stranger.

If she had remembered the ibuprofens and hadn’t entered that drugstore, they would never have met. She smiled thinking about it. One, small, tiny slip, an error, a glitch in her memory, and she had met Jaden Baker.

His eyelids fluttered and he stirred, opening his eyes, finding her.

Tears were coming again. It was all she could do to keep from jumping on him and hugging him.

“Hi,” he said to her, his voice soft and quiet.

She wiped at her eyes and gave him a watery grin. “Jaden, we have to stop meeting like this.”

There was a guttural noise in his throat, like a laugh, and he smiled serenely at her. “How long have you wanted to say that?”

She smirked at him and shrugged her shoulders. “Since I saw you lying here. Clever, right?”

He blinked and nodded in the affirmative, squeezing her hand. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She dropped the railing, sat on the bed and held his hand in her lap. “You had me worried. I thought you were gone for good. For a while there I thought you’d walked into the light and left me here. So you can’t do that again, okay?” she asked. “You’ve grown on me. If you had died, I would’ve done something drastic.”

Jaden was exhausted, she could tell by the slowness of his movements and his speech. But he stayed awake for her.

“What would you have done?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, matching his tone. “I’m creative, I would’ve thought of something good. I’m glad I can dedicate my thoughts to other stuff, like pinwheels and candy, and other things to decorate your hospital room.”

“You’re going to stay with me?” he asked her, pulling her closer to him.

“Yeah,” she breathed, then bent down and kissed his cheek. “I think so. I’ll read to you. Don’t make suggestions, though,” she said, her fingers on his lips as he spoke. “Apparently we have a lot of material to cover.”

He shook his head slightly, she removed her hand.

“Madrid?” he asked.

Libby wanted to say he was dead, but she knew that wasn’t true. She remembered what Gates said. Doctors were often wrong.

“He’s not going to make it,” she said.

“He’s still alive?” he said, in a smile that resembled that of Agent Gates. But then, why wouldn’t it? They were versions of each other. She just didn’t understand why he smiled.

“For now,” Libby answered.

Jaden grinned then, the guttural laughs returning.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “What’s funny?”

Jaden licked his dry lips and couldn’t stop smiling. “Something a long time ago.” He closed his eyes, relishing the memory, lips spreading in a grin again. “I think it was Seth who said it to him. And he was right. He was always right.”

Maybe he was right, but Libby still wasn’t his biggest fan. At least Jaden had used the past tense to describe him.

Special Agent Gates bumped into Special Agent Shepherd on his way to Joseph Madrid’s room. Shepherd glanced around, checking that they were alone, and couldn’t be overheard.

“Doctors say he’ll recover,” said Shepherd, eyes never leaving those of Gates.

“Doctors are only human. They make mistakes, too.”

Shepherd nodded, smirked, then put both hands on the younger Agent’s shoulders. “You sure you want to do this?”

Gates couldn’t help the grin. It felt good to smile. It came naturally, not forced like he’d done in the past to fit in. It was easy. Liberating. Elizabeth James was right in ways she didn’t understand. It was a big day. A good day.

“I’m sure,” he replied. “I’ve never been more sure in my entire life.”

“Okay,” Shepherd said. He pat Gates’ shoulders then let him pass.

The walk to Mr. Madrid was a long one. Over thirty years. Now it would end.

Madrid’s room was unguarded. The FBI and police swarmed the building, so no one assumed he would be harmed. He wondered how many of Archcroft’s people, Madrid’s people, were in the Bureau. He had so much work ahead of him.

Constant beeping from the heart monitor, like a metronome, broke the silence of the room. He walked inside, shut the door and barricaded it with a chair. As he sauntered to Madrid’s bedside, the blinds on the window closed, as if by magic.

Madrid had tubes in his nose to help him breathe. He was so old now. Thirty years had a way of aging people. The monitors showed everything was regular, steady.