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As they walked through the station, an odd sensation spread through Lachlan’s veins. A tingle of excitement. A sense of belonging. He felt like his old self, before Eden’s death, before his life had been destroyed.
As if reading his mind, James turned to him and quietly asked. “How are you feeling?”
The corner of Lachlan’s lips turned up. “Oddly good,” he said, turning to look at James. “I won’t go back to the man I was, but maybe the CIA has changed.”
“Keep an open mind,” James said as they walked. “Don’t rule out the CIA completely.”
A black sedan pulled up as they walked out the entrance and slid into the car, speeding off.
“This is a well-oiled operation you run,” Lachlan said. He lifted his eyes to the rearview mirror, catching a small smile spread across Deacon’s lips.
“We like efficiency,” James said then turned to Matt. “Tell me everything.”
Matt exhaled a long breath, his eyes still unsteady but he seemed more alert than he had on the tracks. “I followed her—the blonde woman. She jumped off the platform and onto the tracks, so I did the same. I lost sight of her as the tunnel turned, but I continued. Next thing I knew, she jumped on top of me. It was like she’d climbed up the wall and launched off of it. She got a needle in my neck... I managed to dislodge it pretty quickly”—he shook his head—“but it gave her the advantage. I lost my balance but I managed to wrestle her off. I thought she’d given up—it took me a minute to realize she had secured my foot to the track. She stuck something on my neck, a sticker I think,” he said, rubbing the base of his neck. “She looked at me and then ran back to the platform. I realized then that I’d lost my earpiece, and she’d taken my phone. You must’ve missed her by seconds.”
“And the paper?” James asked.
Lachlan had half-forgotten it was still in his back pocket. He pulled it out and gave it to James.
“She dropped it on the tracks. I don’t know if it’s important,” Matt said, rubbing his temple. He shook his head. “I’m not sure of the relevance.”
James unfolded the paper and looked at it for a long moment.
“Two days from now,” James said, his eyes on the paper. He looked to his brother.
“What time?” Deacon asked.
James paused a moment, then spoke. “Eleven a.m.” He looked to them. “Two days’ time is the anniversary of Fred’s death. Eleven o’clock was the time of death reported on his certificate.”
Lachlan frowned. “That seems like a revenge note, then... if Widow killed Fred, though, that doesn’t make sense.”
James continued to stare at the paper, seemingly searching for answers. Eventually he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nothing about this make sense, that’s the problem. I feel like we’re working blind. Black Widow has always worked alone, and she’s always been in the shadows. Dining at the restaurant near our headquarters, the Plaza restaurant, now the train station...” He shook his head. “It’s not right, it doesn’t fit her usual style. But it’s her, I know it is—I saw it when I looked in her eyes. The woman is Widow but she’s changed how she works, so we need to rethink everything we thought we knew about her.”
“Why write our names on the crossword grid?” Lachlan asked. “It’s like she’s trying to communicate with us... but it’s so vague it makes no sense.”
“There’s someone she doesn’t trust,” James said, seeming to nod in agreement. “Maybe someone in the CIA. She’s drawing me out specifically. She’s making this personal.”
No one said anything else as Deacon drove through the city. When Samuel’s voice came through his earpiece, Lachlan almost jumped.
“Okay, now things are getting interesting... I have an identity match for the woman we’re going to call Widow’s apprentice at this stage. Jenna Starring. I can’t find any connection between them at this stage. Her parents are Linda and Terry Starring. She is fluent in English, French, German, and Spanish... Interestingly, she has no formal education and no job history other than working in a few bars, although she is thirty-four years old. She grew up in the small town of Elkhorn in Iowa.”
Lachlan froze and James didn’t miss a beat.
“What?” James asked, his eyes laser-focused on Lachlan.
A war raged in Lachlan’s mind. He’d made a promise, and he never broke his promises. But the man he’d promised was dead, and Lachlan had a horrible feeling that this promise had something to do with it because Elkhorn’s population was small. Lachlan had seen the tiny town with his own eyes and this couldn’t be another coincidence.
James looked at him expectantly.
Lachlan closed his eyes for a moment, made the decision he knew there was no turning back from, then reopened them. He looked to James. “I went to Elkhorn... with Fred. We were on a field trip and passing by there. Fred said he needed to make a stop and I was to never speak a word of it to anyone. I promised him,” Lachlan said, his voice pained, and James nodded, seeming to understand.
“Why did he make the stop?” Deacon asked, his eyes meeting Lachlan’s in the rearview mirror.
Lachlan shrugged. “We stopped at a house and he went inside. I was told to stay in the car. He was the head of the CIA... so I didn’t really think much of it—he didn’t need to inform me what he was doing. He was inside for exactly eleven minutes... I noted the time. When he emerged, he seemed... quiet. More contemplative, I’d thought, rather than stressed. I didn’t ask any questions, it was not my place to.”
“And he said nothing about it at all?” James asked.
“No, nothing. But Elkhorn is a very small town and you said you don’t like coincidences...” Lachlan said, his voice trailing off. His mind reeled through the memories he had of that day, trying to recall if anything else seemed important now, knowing what he did, that he hadn’t before. But overall, it had been an uneventful stop.
