Titusville, Virginia
Saturday night
Rebel was home in bed, Tash sleeping beside him, his hand on Rebel’s arm. Tash hadn’t wanted to sleep alone after Morales and Briggs had hauled Rebel away Friday night; actually, he hadn’t wanted to let Rebel out of his sight. Rebel understood. Tash had been terrified he’d lose him, just as he’d lost his father. When Ethan pulled his Range Rover into the Merriweather driveway that afternoon, Tash had shouted and run toward them into Rebel’s arms, hugged him as tight as he could. They’d held each other until Rebel promised him he was home to stay, and he prayed that was true. He still had his ankle monitor, which meant the FBI knew he’d gone to see Carla Cartwright that morning. But he’d gotten no calls, no threats from Gregson or Morales or Briggs, no black SUVs roaring into his driveway there to arrest him again.
It was the middle of the night and the house was quiet. A quarter moon shined through the window and the air was cool, a slight breeze stirring the curtains. It was a perfect summer night and he was in his own house and his own bed, but he couldn’t sleep. He thought again about his talk with Cartwright.Had he spooked her enough to make another mistake? Was forging his signature the first?
When he’d given a copy of the recording he’d made to Rafael Jordan, Jordan hadn’t yelled at him for pulling that stunt. Rather, he’d looked thoughtful, shaken Rebel’s hand, and told him to take care of his nephew, he’d be in touch.
Rebel drew several deep breaths and closed his eyes, tried to find calm. He remembered his brother’s face when he’d hugged Sasha in his kitchen here in Titusville, the hunger he’d seen in Archer’s eyes when he looked at her, and why not? He knew Archer didn’t feel the all-consuming love for her he’d felt for Celia, but Sasha was young and beautiful and smart, and she acted like she worshipped him. He remembered he’d prayed Sasha would give him another chance at a happy, full life. And then this mess had happened. He doubted it was Archer’s idea to hide, wondered if he’d agreed to stay for Sasha.
Before he fell asleep, Rebel felt Tash’s hand move, clutch at his arm. Was he having another nightmare? Should he wake him? He didn’t, he fell asleep.
Tash was dreaming about his father again, sitting in that strange building with people milling around him, gawking and oohing and aahing as they stared at the weird statues and columns and all those bright-colored windows, huge windows that went on forever. His dad’s shoulders hunched forward, his head bowed. Tash knew he felt alone. And he was scared.
His father stood, made his way through the crowd of people, and walked out of the huge building. He stopped under a bright morning sun and stared back at it. Tash saw strange, huge towers that speared into the sky and fat columns that looked like they had holes in them. It was like a fantasy out of one of his video games set on an alien world. He saw Sasha walking through the crowd toward his dad. She slid her arm around his back, and he leaned down and kissed her. He heard his father say against Sasha’s cheek,I wish I could make this all go away, Sasha.
Tash jerked awake.
“Uncle Rebel?”
Rebel woke from a dreamless sleep in an instant. “Tash? What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?” He glanced at his Apple Watch in its charger, saw it was four in the morning.
Rebel pulled him close, heard Tash whisper against his shoulder, “I saw Dad again, in that weird place. There were so many people, but I knew h-he felt really alone. He just kept staring in front of him, not really seeing anything. Then he went outside and stood looking up at all the really tall columns and towers—it looked like a huge church, but really strange. And then Sasha was there and they hugged and held hands, and I heard my dad sayI wish I could make this all go away, Sasha. And then I woke up, an-and I could still hear his voice in my mind.”
Rebel pulled Tash closer, said slowly, “You thought it was a church, Tash? A weird-looking church? Really big?”
“Yes. And when Dad went outside I saw the sun and it was morning and it was already hot.”
A strange-looking church? Could it be possible?
Rebel leaned over, pulled his iPhone off its charger, typed in three words, and stared at the series of photos. He showed them to Tash. “Is this the church you saw?”
“Yes, yes! That’s it. How did you know?”
“I finally realized your description sounded like Gaudí’s masterpiece. It’s a huge basilica in Barcelona, Spain, called La Sagrada Família, The Sacred Family. Gaudí designed it way back in 1883, and work continues on it today. It’s morning now in Barcelona, like in your dream, and the summers are hot there. Have you ever seen pictures of it before?”
“No, Uncle Rebel, I’ve only seen it in the dreams. I’ve seen Dad there every time.”
Rebel kept Tash close and leaned back against his pillow. He said aloud, “Maybe your dad is staying near the basilica, maybe within walking distance.”
“I never saw a car,” Tash said, his voice slurred. Rebel said nothing more. He heard Tash’s breathing even into sleep.
What Tash had told him was hard to accept, much less understand. He could either keep fighting it, or he could do what he could to find out if Tash’s dream was real. What to do? His brother had decided he didn’t want to be found, not yet. Shouldn’t that be his decision? If Rebel told the FBI where Tash had seen him in a dream, they’d either laugh and suggest a shrink or they’d call the Spanish police to arrest him. What to do?
Tash suddenly jerked upward. “Uncle Rebel, Dad’s in danger, and it’s coming closer, and he doesn’t know it. I know it means something really bad is going to happen to him really soon.” Tash began crying, heartbreaking kid tears. “We have to help him. Please, Uncle Rebel, we have to help him.”
Rebel said slowly, “Then we will, I promise, but it’s the middle of the night, Tash. In the morning I’ll speak with Ethan. You know Agent Savich in Washington is a good friend of theirs, and he’s already helped me. He thinks both your dad and I are innocent. He’ll do everything he can to help your dad and keep him safe. I know it’s hard, but you have to go to sleep again, both of us do, all right?” Rebel realized in that moment he had no choice. He had to believe this danger Tash saw coming toward his dad was real. What to do?
Tash swiped away his tears, tried to settle again. While Uncle Rebel spoke to Autumn’s dad, he’d tell her and then Autumn could tell Agent Savich herself. Tash knew there wasn’t much time left, the really bad was coming, and it was close.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Barcelona, Spain
Sunday
Archer Navarro walked up the narrow pathway to the small bungalow with a red-tiled roof that he’d rented with Sasha under an assumed name, with the cash he’d managed to access in Paris before they’d run. He and Sasha had settled in among the other bungalows for rent in the quiet neighborhood, a half mile from Gaudí’s Basilica de la Sagrada Família. He spent a lot of time in the basilica and in a nearby internet café, scouring all the news sources for any mention of the Navarro Investment Fund investigation. It was hard to keep at it, because there wasn’t anything new to report, but he had to; it was the only way he had to follow what was happening in Philadelphia. He and Sasha had pulled the SIM cards out of their cell phones so they couldn’t be tracked, but he was still afraid, given top-notch technology, that if he called anyone at the firm, or texted Rebel or Tash again, he’d be found and arrested, and then he’d be of no use to anyone, not to Tash or to Sasha.
