Page 121 of The Devil's Ransom

I had no idea if they even had the authority to assume control, but we’d gotten out clean—although Wolffe was still dealing with the fallout. Luckily, he had the president of the United States on his side. They were calling it a “national security exercise conducted by DHS,” basically “admitting” that the exercise had gone awry, and the “DHS” team had hit the wrong target. Instead of a bunch of role players in a rented building, they’d attacked a live office. It made the DHS boys look like buffoons, but it worked. The press became bored quickly.

The door to the bar opened and Veep, Brett, and Knuckles came in. Bryce waved at them, Knuckles did a twirl with his hand, telling him to bring over some drinks, and they sat down.

Wolffe said, “Only missing the females.”

Knuckles said, “They’re on the way.” He turned to Wolffe and said, “What’s the deal with Carly and her star?”

Wolffe technically still worked for the CIA, same as Carly, but because she was sheep-dipped into the Taskforce, her star on the CIA memorial wall was an open question.

Wolffe said, “Kerry Bostwick is making it happen. I don’t know how, but she’ll get her star.”

Knuckles nodded and said, “Good. Good man.”

The door opened again, and I looked up with expectation. Instead of Jennifer and Amena, it was Johnny and Axe, from another Taskforce team. I was surprised to see them, since we hadn’t advertised we were doing this.

Wolffe saw my expression and said, “I told them. They did some work with her in Colombia. They wanted to be here.”

I nodded, saying, “I’m impressed. Axe doesn’t do these things.”

Johnny was lanky, full of ropy muscles like a cowpuncher. Axe looked like aCall of Dutycharacter. About six feet four, with aclean-shaven head and a full beard, he wore the muscles on his body like a display. He wasn’t body-builder large, but he was most definitely intimidating.

I stood up, shook Johnny’s hand, and said, “Thanks for coming.”

He said, “Wouldn’t miss it. Free drinks and all.”

I laughed, and the door opened again. I saw Jennifer, wearing a sundress and sandals, her hair a tousled mess in a clip, looking like a surfer just off the beach. I smiled at her, and from behind her Amena came running.

She wrapped her arms around my waist and buried her head into my belly, saying, “I missed you.”

I squeezed back, saying, “I’ve only been gone a few days. But I missed you, too.”

She smiled and I let her free, saying, “Okay, the gang’s all here.”

I waved to Bryce and he came over. To the group, I said, “Anyone know what Carly drank?”

Knuckles said, “Bourbon.”

I squinted, because I knew that’s what he drank, and he said, “I’m not making that up. In fact, she drinks Bardstown. The Prisoner.” He turned to Bryce and said, “You have that?”

“I do. It’s in the back.”

Knuckles said, “All the way around.”

Bryce delivered the drinks, and everyone looked at me. I said, “Knuckles, it’s your show.”

He turned to Jennifer and said, “You do the honors.”

She nodded and said, “For Carly.”

We all said, “For Carly.”

She said, “May she rest in peace.”

In unison, we said, “Peace is an illusion. May she continue to fight.”

We downed the whiskey and I saw a tear in Jennifer’s eye. I put my glass down and went to her, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her forehead. Amena stood next to us awkwardly, not sure what to do. I brought her into the embrace.

We broke and I said, “It’ll be good to get back to Charleston. I could use some sleep.”

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