She knew howsheresponded. Parts of her died—love, kindness, emotion. They all shriveled up, to be sloughed off like so much waste, leaving her a hard, empty shell of a person. A carapace protecting pure drive. A mission. That’s all she was.
She straightened up and carried on. She moved mountains—literally digging them up—to ensure that her work would continue. When the world needed changing, she changed it.
“Yes. Yes, he was a very important manindeed.” She nodded for a few beats. Twenty-five seconds, she found, usually conveyed the appropriate sadness. The senator apparently agreed, since he wrapped it up about then. Professional through and through. “And those soldiers will surely be missed.”
“Someone will inform their families.” Good Lord, the man was already practicing the lines he’d use on television. “Well, then, I suppose we must engage the necessary action.”Speaking of psychopaths…
“Yes indeed. And I’m especially sad to say it appears Dr. Tenny performed some…clandestine operations on his own. He has gone rogue with the virus.” Another fabrication, obviously. But no one could emerge from this operation alive. Letting the senator know that Tenny had gone rogue would ensure he took this straight to DEFCON, rather than settling on an ill-advised rescue mission. “Sampson was apparently on his side. The project must be shut down.”
“Is there no one on the ground who can—”
“I’m afraidallof your men have been…terminated,” she said, sealing their fates.
The senator’s breathing continued, long and slow and smooth. Nothing could shock this man. Obviously not, if he was willing to spearhead top-secret missions like this one. Not for the same reasons as Katherine, nor with the same goal. But the result would be the same. Perhaps a bit more drastic than what the senator expected. But he’d get used to it once it was all over. He would come out on the right side of history. It was the survivors, after all, who wrote the books for future generations.
Either way, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She’d likely be gone before the full effects had been felt. By then it would be too late. Her work would be done. And she could let herself rest.
She’d join her beloved husband and the babies and she’d take Fiona with her. At peace, finally.
Senator Mitchum sighed regretfully, bringing her back to the room, to here and now. “I’ll engage the destruction protocol.”
Katherine lowered her brows, tightened her lips, and nodded once in perfect, unconscious imitation of her father, who’d used this look with heads of state once upon a time. President Kennedy had sat in this very room with Father, strategizing much the way Katherine did today. Reagan, Clinton, both Bushes. Nearly every president since the 1960s. “Time is of the essence, of course, considering how dangerous the virus is. How soon do you think we can…?” she trailed off, knowing how important it was, occasionally, to step back and give men like this one a sense of their own power.
“I’ll send the request to our man at Defense. We’ll make sure all comms are cut. And he’ll get those drones out as soon as is humanly possible.”
The director nodded. “Perfect. Thank you, Teddy.Thank you.”
“Thankyou, Katherine. I will ensure that your condolences are passed along to the families.” He paused before quietly adding, “It’s a good thing what you’re doing here. For the good of the planet. For the good of mankind. A very good thing.”
Chapter 49
A knock at the door made Angel shake like she was back on the ice again, alone in her own whiteout. She tightened her bandaged hands on the gun, pressed back into Ford’s warm body, and waited.
“Ms. Smith? Ma’am? This is Eric Cooper. I understand my brother’s inside with you. Am I free to enter?”
Was it a trick? It had to be a trick.
But wait. Eric Cooper. She knew that name.
Oh my God. It’s him. It’s Ford’s brother.
“I’m pointing a weapon at the door,” she croaked out, even though she’d never shot one of these in her life. Then again, she hadn’t killed a man before this week, either, so… “How do I know it’s you?”
“Ford’s my little brother, ma’am. Ask me anything.”
She wracked her brain for a few seconds and fell upon something he’d told her in the tent. “There’s an island. Off the coast of California, where your dad used to take you fishing when you were kids. What’s the name of it?”
“San Elias Island.” Her hands loosened of their own volition, and she barely tightened them again before letting the gun fall. “In fact, I spent the night there with Zoe recently.”
“It’s true!” a woman chimed in. “We didn’t exactly choose to stay there the first time. But I guess that’s a story for some other day.”
“Right. Now, I’m gonna open this door. Okay, Ms. Smith? Angel? Slowly.” The door latch opened with a clunk and Angel sucked in a breath. It could still be a trick, right? “Appreciate it if you’d hold your fire.”
Angel sat up and, because she couldn’t control the way her hand shook, pointed the weapon at the ceiling, watching the door with unblinking hawk eyes.
The man who came in did look like Ford, but longer and leaner. Where Ford had those squared off parts—jaw, chest, shoulders—his brother looked like he’d been stretched up. But the tension in the eyes was the same, what she could see of his coloring, too. When he’d given the room a quick once-over, there was no mistaking his anguish as he went to his brother’s side.
“I’m so sorry.” The apology rushed out. “He was shot. Twice.”
