Defenseless (Salvation, #5)(82)

Mark slouches forward. “Meaning once we met, the fact that the arms dealer was an American would become clear to both of us. With both of our knowledge of the investigation, it would be easy to form conclusions.”

Mandi nods. “But he was able to keep throwing you guys off and keep you looking for someone who didn’t exist. He was able to keep you far enough away, but close enough that you kept working the case. The man is a true narcissist.”

“And he was making a ton of money, taking out spies, and keeping a high-profile job at the same time,” I muse aloud. “It really was the perfect plan. He was able to orchestrate everything from the confines of his office, line his pockets, and betray everyone he knew while we hunted a terrorist.”

“Exactly,” Mandi says. “Then he found out your father was looking into something fishy within the agency and keeping a file. Aaron was able to piece together the photo of the building. It was the site he was going to in Afghanistan where their shipment went missing.”

Mark lifts his hands. “I had no idea. I never went there or was involved in that bid. We assumed that was where your father traced Mazir to.”

My eyes drift out the window as I think it all over. All of this is Christopher’s fault. My father must have pieced it all together and threatened to expose him. So Mazir had him killed and then claimed responsibility. All the while it was done by his friend, his ally, and his boss.

“It all makes sense. Each dead end was engineered at the hands of my boss. He knew where I was, if I was getting close to pertinent information—he was behind it all. He was using all of us to get what he wanted: money, power, and control.” Every part of me wants to explode. My muscles clench as anger takes hold. “I should’ve killed him.”

“No,” Mark says. “You would’ve never figured this out. You would’ve spent the rest of your life looking for a ghost. This is all behind us now. We can move forward and find some normalcy. It’s over, Charlie.”

“Is it?” I ask. “Because regardless, people have lost their lives, you’ve suffered, I’ve suffered. Will it ever really be over? I can’t trust my own agency. I can’t go back to work there, and I can’t bring my dad back.”

Mandi shifts uncomfortably. “I think you guys need to talk. But it is all done now, Charlie. He’s locked up, Dean is in charge, and everyone we could identify who was involved has been detained. And there is no son. We’ve dug and dug; he was just messing with us. He’s a master manipulator.”

There’s no sense of ease and no feeling of accomplishment. My dad is still gone, and the agency I would’ve given my life for killed him. “I need to tell my mother who was behind my father’s death.”

She stands. “Dominic knows too. He’s waiting for your call.”

Mark gets to his feet. “I was wrong about you,” he admits to Mandi. “I thought you were involved.”

“I never betrayed her. The information I was giving was being monitored by Christopher. I didn’t know it was him, but I suspected someone in the agency was watching. Once I started piecing together that something was wrong, I stopped inputting the correct info. It’s why you guys were able to get out of the country undetected. I put a code on her file, and once it flagged me, I altered it. I was helping even if you never knew. I kept them off her back while you two were working.”

Mandi has always been loyal. She explained that she knew the agency was involved after my debrief. She was willing to destroy our friendship if it meant I lived. By having me taken off the case, put on leave, and kept out of the area, it allowed her to dig at the same time we did. Even with my cold shoulder, she was there for me.

“Thank you,” Mark says with his hand extended.

“She never gave up on you.”

“She never gave up on you, either.” He smiles.

“I’m going to walk her out,” I explain to Mark. Honestly, I need to let all of this information settle away from him.

He seems to think everything is great now, but this affects everything in my life. Every part of my being is tied to my job. I know things are different. I have him, and we have a baby coming, but I always thought I would still be an operative. Now, though, I don’t know that I want to live this life. What kind of job am I doing, and for what?

“Why don’t I feel like it’s over?” I ask once we’re out the door.

She leans back against the wall. “I think it’s a mix of everything. You were so sure Mazir was obtainable and close, you couldn’t take a breath without thinking someone was after you. And then the last few weeks were insane.”

“But how did we not see all this?”

“Let’s face it—he’s been doing this a lot longer than any of us have. Your father was on to him, but never got far enough to make the connection. But remember that Christopher is really good at his job. He was using an asset in Afghanistan to move things around, but he is Mazir. It’s why you couldn’t find him when you were there, because he was here. Plus, he was orchestrating a terrorist ring for God knows how long, Charlie.”

She makes sense. The whole story does. Christopher Asher isn’t an unknown. He has copious amounts of information to use as ammunition. He had many players and was making money selling arms. I remember the agents we lost from his antics. Any of us could’ve ended up taking the final bullet. I don’t know that I’ll ever feel completely at ease, but there’s a small sense of relief knowing my father can rest in peace. His death wasn’t in vain, and his killer will be dealt with.