Page 49 of A Moment Never Forgotten
Thank God.
As she reached for the doorknob, Lambert didn’t bother to turn but called out, “I’ll see you at the office holiday party tonight. The director will be there, so it’s mandatory for everyone level six and above. You’re not required to stay long, just make an appearance.”
Fuck. Berit had forgotten all about the party. Actually, she’d lost track of time in days while she was on the other side of the world. She was still a little jetlagged.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be there.” She shut the door behind her and strode straight to Director Hennel’s office.
Since he wasn’t expecting her, Berit had to wait ten minutes while he finished a video conference call. As usual, he invited her over to the table next to the windows.
“You look a little pale, Berit. Are you coming down with something?” Noah’s question confirmed the way she was feeling.
Get right to the point. “No. My stomach is so tight I feel sick.”
“Let me get—” he started to rise.
“No. He’s going to kill her.” After she blurted it out, she felt better.
Hennel sat back down. “Who is going to kill whom?”
Berit forced in a deep breath. “I came here straight from Director Lambert’s office. He ordered me to kill Elizabeth Saint Clare.” She reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. “He’s fucking crazy. And I’m sure since I told him there was no way I was going to kill her, he’s going to find somebody else.”
“Back up.” His eyebrows pinched. “Tell me that again.”
She knew he meant for her to start at the beginning and walk him through it. “Director Lambert called me into his office approximately twenty minutes ago.” She recounted every word from the moment the meeting started to when she left. “And now I’m here.”
“Basically, he gave you an illegal order and you refused to carry it out.” Hennel could always summarize the situation in a sentence.
“Yes.”
“It’s interesting that somehow he was able to get your name on the log for the drug.” He leaned back in his chair. “He has somebody in IT in his pocket. That would explain several other things such as the disappearance of files associated with the Syrian mission.”
Damn. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
“You didn’t tell Lambert anything you learned since we talked last.” He held her gaze. “Are you going to tell me?”
“Yes. And there’s a hell of a lot.” She had plenty of time while flying to and from the Middle East to think about her report. “First, I want to reiterate that none of the people are terrorists nor are they feeding any subversive organization information. Even though Matthew Saint Clare and Gabriel Davis were good friends, there was an unusual reason for it. Have you ever heard the old saying:keep your friends close and your enemies closer? That’s what Gabriel was doing.
“Brace yourself, because here comes the kicker. Mason Sinclair did not die in the explosion.” She waited for his reaction.
There wasn’t one. He continued to stare at her, waiting for her next words.
“You knew,” she accused.
“You tapped into my files. You know I was in the country.”
“How did...” It dawned on her. “You have some kind of alarm set so when anyone looks into your CIA files you’re notified.”
“Of course, I do.” His stony face revealed nothing. “And yes, I knew. Who do you think called in the SEAL team? I was about a mile away, southeast. From my viewpoint, I watched someone crawl out the back door of the hut. I also saw debris fall on him and thought he was dead. The team bugged out of there pretty fast, but the villagers showed up within minutes of the explosion. They rescued him. I couldn’t leave him. Our teams were busy. The SEALs were only twenty miles away.”
Hennel shrugged. “The records show that he died on the operating table in Germany. I couldn’t figure out a way to get his body shipped home to his parents, so I guess he’s buried as an unknown soldier.”
She smiled. “I’m happy to tell you that Mason Sinclair isn’t dead. Nor is he alive exactly. And here’s where it gets beyond weird. Mason Sinclair and Matthew Saint Clare are the same person and Gabriel knew it. I would go as far as to say that Gabriel had something to do with the transformation.”
“The hell you say.” He leaned in and put his forearms on the table. “They look nothing alike. And how do you account for the ten-year age difference?”
She grinned. “You said yourself he’d been hit by debris. Matthew Saint Clare’s file prior to his surgery in Germany reads like the shit we used to make up fifteen years ago when building a backstory. We both know how easy it is for someone in this building to switch medical files, create a fictitious past and a new identity.”
“We do it every day.” He glanced at the large flat screen as though he might see Matthew looking back at him. “Saint Clare would have to be the best actor in the world.”
