File Zero

“Good god.” Zero looked him up and down. He’d put on about thirty pounds, maybe more. Grown out the beard. Wore the trucker’s cap and colored lenses. Changed his voice.

But it was him. He was alive.

“I don’t believe it.” He took two steps and hugged Alan tightly.

His best friend, the one who had his back on so many ops, the one who had helped him have the memory suppressor installed instead of killing him on the Hohenzollern Bridge, the one that Zero thought he had found dead, stabbed to death in an apartment in Zurich… he was here. He was alive.

He thought back to the discovery in Zurich. The dead man’s face had been puffy and bloated, and his mind had immediately linked the doppelganger to Reidigger. Your mind fills in the blanks, Maria had once told him.

Reidigger had faked his own death, just like he had helped Kent Steele fake his. And he had been living under the guise of a well-connected mechanic only twenty minutes away.

“All this time?” Zero asked. His voice was hoarse, and his vision blurred slightly as a well of emotions bubbled to the surface. “You’ve been keeping an eye on us?”

“As best I could. Watson helped.”

That’s right. Watson knows. It was John Watson who had first introduced Reid Lawson to Mitch the mechanic—but he had only done so when Reid’s daughters were taken, when the stakes were too high and the CIA was of little help.

“Does anyone else know?” Zero asked.

Alan shook his head. “No. And they can’t. If the agency catches on, I’m a dead man.”

“You could have told me sooner.”

“No, I couldn’t have.” Alan smiled. “Without your memory intact, would you have recognized me? Would you have believed me if I simply told you?”

Zero had to admit he had a point.

“Was it Dr. Guyer? Did you go to see him?”

“I did,” Zero said. “It didn’t work at the time. It happened later, with a trigger word. And now…” He shook his head. “Now I know. I remember. I have to stop it, Alan.”

“I know you do. And you know that there’s nothing I’d like more than to be by your side while you do.”

“But you can’t be.” Zero understood completely. Besides, Alan had a task that was, in Zero’s eyes, just as significant to stopping a war. “I need you to keep them safe.”

“I will. I promise I will.” Alan’s eyes lit up suddenly. “That reminds me, I have something for you.” He reached through the open window of his truck and pulled out a Sig Sauer pistol. “Here. Compliments of the Division merc that assaulted your house.”

Zero took the pistol incredulously. “The Division was at my house? What happened?”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle. Those two are definitely your kids.” Alan grinned, but it faded quickly. “You need help too, you know. Call Watson. Or your new pal, the Ranger.”

“No,” Zero said adamantly. He refused to compromise Watson or Strickland any further than he already had. “I’m better on my own.”

Alan sighed. “Just as bullheaded as ever.” In the distance, the telltale rotors of a helicopter drew nearer. “That’s our ride. You take care of yourself, Zero.”

“I will.” He hugged Reidigger once more. “Thank you for doing this. When all this is over, you and I are going to sit down and have a very long conversation over several beers.”

“You got it,” Reidigger agreed. But there was a melancholic dip in his tone, one that suggested he was thinking the same as Zero was at the moment—that one or both of them might not survive this ordeal. “Until then—don’t trust them.”

He frowned. “Who?”

“Anyone in the agency,” Alan said. “They were ready to kill you before, and they were happy to have me as the triggerman. They’re not going to make that same mistake again. This time around they’ll send someone who won’t lose a minute of sleep putting a bullet in the back of your head.”

“I know.” Zero shook his head. “I was thinking of at least getting in touch with Cartwright. I don’t think he’s in on it—”

“Christ, what did I just say? No one, you understand?” Alan’s gaze bored into his. “Especially not Cartwright. Zero… two years ago, Cartwright was the one that sent me and Morris after you on the bridge.”

“What?” A shiver ran up Zero’s spine.

“Yes. He didn’t send the Division. He didn’t send any killer asset. The order came down the chain for your assassination and Cartwright didn’t argue it. He sent us.”

A wave of fury rose like heat in his chest. Shawn Cartwright had pretended to be a friend, an ally, and had even warned Zero against trusting others like Riker.

The pounding of the chopper’s rotors roared overhead as it hovered over Meadow Field. Alan leaned in and said in his ear, “Goodbye, Zero.” He clapped his friend on the shoulder and strode away to meet the helicopter as it descended to the tall grass.

Zero hurried over to his waiting girls and hugged them both tightly once more. “I love you both,” he said in their ears. “Be good and take care of each other.”

“Love you too,” Sara told him with a squeeze.

“We will,” Maya promised as she wiped her eyes.

“Now go.” He let them go, and they hurried over to the black helicopter. They both glanced back at him once more before climbing into the cabin with Alan’s help. Then the door slid closed, and the chopper lifted off again. Zero stood there for a long moment, watching it as it got smaller and smaller in the sky. His head was still spinning from the knowledge that Alan Reidigger was somehow alive, but knowing that his daughters were in Alan’s hands gave him hope—and all the more determination to survive this.

Finally he tore his gaze from what was now a mere speck on the horizon and headed back to the car. For a few brief moments he sat there behind the wheel, wondering if that was the last time he would ever see his daughters. The sound of blood rushing in his ears was deafening.

He reached over and turned on the radio just for some noise. A male broadcaster’s voice immediately filled the cab.

“Our top story today continues to be the unfolding situation in the Persian Gulf,” the host said somberly. “Only hours ago an Iranian battleship fired rockets at the USS Constitution, an American destroyer on patrol with the Navy’s Fifth Fleet. In response, the Constitution returned fire, destroying the Iranian vessel and claiming the lives of all seventy-six crew members aboard.”

They’re moving fast. A pit formed in Zero’s stomach. He hadn’t expected this to unfold so quickly. That just means I have to move faster.

“The Iranian government has already issued a public statement,” the broadcaster continued, “in which they expressed their outrage over the destruction of their ship and proclaimed, and I quote, that ‘this event has been a clear and blatant act of war.’ Though there has not been a formal declaration, it appears that Iran is intent on igniting a new conflict with the US. White House Press Secretary Christine Cleary issued a very brief statement in response, stating only that President Pierson is fully aware of the situation and his cabinet is working quickly to convene the joint chiefs. He is expected to address the nation this evening.”

So that was their next play. The Brotherhood’s attack on American soil would stir the people into a state of xenophobia against Iranians, and the “attack” on the USS Constitution was a timely follow-up to incite a war. The president would meet with his advisors, and they would convince him that a renewed conflict in the Middle East was their only course of action.

Unless, he thought suddenly, he had a new advisor.

He pulled a card out of his pocket and dialed the number on it.

“Sanders,” answered the female aide who had approached him on the White House lawn.

“This is Agent Kent Steele,” he told her. “We met earlier today—”

“I recall,” she said abruptly. There was a tension in her voice, undoubtedly due to the recent events. “What can I do for you, Agent?”

“I need to speak with President Pierson.”

“I’m afraid he’s in a meeting,” said Sanders. “I’m sure you’re aware of what’s happening—”