“It’s the best you’re going to get.”
“Do you have a hero complex, or a martyr complex?”
“My shrink says both, with high paranoia.”
“Paranoia is good. Watch yourself.”
Brodie looked at him. “The doctors told me I need rest, and you’re pissing me off.”
Chilcott turned and walked to the door, and was about to leave when Brodie asked, “Why were you in Berlin?”
Chilcott turned to him. “I told you. I was working with the Special Collection Service to monitor NordFaust.”
“Yeah, you told me. I didn’t believe you then, and I don’t believe you now.”
Chilcott did not respond.
“You came here to whack us, you sick fuck. But then you realized our homicide investigation was dovetailing with the NordFaust plot that your colleagues were monitoring, so you decided to bring us in and under your control, to see what we knew.”
Chilcott was silent. Then he said, “You’re right, Scott. You need your rest.” He gestured to the flowers on the table. “Get those in some water or they’ll die.”
“Stay away from Maggie Taylor. Oryou’lldie.”
Chilcott locked eyes with Brodie. “I’ll remember you said that, Scott. And you might come to regret it.” He added, “I owe you one.” Trent Chilcott walked out of the room and shut the door.
Brodie knew he was right about Chilcott’s presence in Berlin. He’d seen it in the man’s eyes. And Brodie knew he and Taylor weren’t done with this treacherous psycho.
He checked the time on the phone he’d been lent by the U.S. Embassy: 9:20P.M.Then he looked at his call log. Nothing from Taylor, who might or might not have been given his temporary phone number, but he saw the five missed calls from Colonel Dombroski over the last two days, all with corresponding voice mails that he hadn’t listened to. He couldn’t deal with a phone call at the moment, but maybe a text would do:
Good evening, Colonel. You’ve heard the bad news by now that I’m alive and mostly well. Good news is Taylor is the same. I’ll call tomorrow.
Dombroski replied almost immediately:Yes, General Kiernan has kept me briefed. Rest up. You earned it.There was a pause, and then he sent another message:Your office at Quantico is ready for you when you return. The Army needs you and your country needs you.
Brodie looked at that guilt-trip message. He’d broken every rule in the book, and a few unwritten ones, but apparently there was some forgiveness when you help stop a genocidal mass murder. Maybe this case would earn him a promotion. Or maybe it was enough to be spared a court-martial.
Brodie wrote back:I’m under sedation for an enema. Call you tomorrow,then set his phone down on the table next to the bed and reclined, letting his mind go where it wanted…
Anna.
When he tried to think of nothing, he thought of her. And he wondered if there was something he could have done differently to prevent what had happened.
But that wasn’t fair. He had done what he could, which was to finish what Harry Vance had started. Vance himself had picked up the trail from Anna’s mother, Ursula, who had in turn been seeking justice for her murdered husband, Manfred. And what had inspired Manfred Albrecht to risk his life by passing on Stasi secrets to the West? Probably his own day-to-day work inside Stasi headquarters, where he’d seen thousands of innocent people spied on, harassed, threatened, and arrested, their lives slowly ground to dust. Some people have a sense of justice, a sense of right and wrong, and the balls to act on that. Most of those people were dead. But new ones came along.
Brodie drifted in and out of sleep, and eventually he woke to early morning light streaming in through the window. A new day.
The door opened, and Maggie Taylor rolled in on a wheelchair being pushed by a male orderly who flicked on the lights.
Brodie sat up. “Good morning.”
Taylor smiled. “Good morning. I am officially not a biohazard.”
“Congratulations. You look great.”
She wore a hospital gown, and actually looked pale, unkempt, and exhausted. But there was life and light in her eyes, like she knew she’d been through Hell and survived. Again.
The orderly helped Taylor out of the wheelchair and into the hospital bed. She winced in pain as she eased into the bed. The bullet she’d taken had not hit any organs, but it had nicked a rib and caused extensive soft tissue damage that would take a while to heal.
Taylor thanked the orderly and he left with the wheelchair.
