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Amoral. A word Cate knew firsthand in relation to Vishenko. She managed to suppress a shiver at the memories, but she couldn’t do anything about her eyes. Couldn’t hide the sudden flash of revulsion the memories evoked.
D’Arcy had seen her reaction, she knew—his eyes betrayed him—but thankfully he didn’t comment on it. He went on with his story. “The Bratva bought themselves an FBI agent, the best their money could buy—a man who eventually became the special agent in charge of the FBI’s New York Field Office Criminal Division. At roughly the same time, the New World Militia infiltrated the US Marshals Service when I was still working there.”
He smiled grimly. “That brings us to where I come in. Five years earlier the FBI had approached a New York City cop named Ryan Callahan, recruiting him to go undercover with the New World Militia. To gather evidence against Pennington and bring down his organization. Callahan did that, all right. Then testified against Pennington and a host of others in the New World Militia. I was assigned to guard him. Not just until the trials, but afterward, to give him a new identity through the Witness Security Program.”
“Some people refer to it as the Witness Protection Program, Cate,” Liam threw in. “That’s one of the things US Marshals do—protect witnesses who need protection, like they were protecting you. And in some cases provide them with new identities, new lives.”
“Like me,” Cate said, remembering all at once what Alec had promised her—that after she testified against Vishenko and the other members of the conspiracy, a new life would be created for her in some little backwater town in some out-of-the-way place. Where she would be safe from reprisals. Where she could live without always looking over her shoulder. Even if she chose to return to Zakhar, the plan was for her to disappear.
“Right,” D’Arcy agreed. “I created a new identity for Callahan—Reilly O’Neill. I stashed him in a little town in the middle of nowhere—Black Rock, Wyoming—for reasons you don’t need to know. To make a long story short, three people died when the New World Militia tried to torture Callahan’s whereabouts out of his partner, something Josh Thurman—the partner—couldn’t tell them because he didn’t know. But when he and his family were murdered we knew the militia was getting close, so we faked Callahan’s death as Reilly O’Neill, and I moved him to another location.”
His eyes narrowed and his expression sharpened. “When Pennington’s conviction was overturned, I was forced to reveal Callahan was still alive and still able to testify to the prosecutors in the case, and I sent two men to retrieve him—Larry Brooks and Trace McKinnon.”
Cate’s eyes grew big. “I’ve met him... I’ve met Mr. McKinnon. He came to see me once with Alec.”
“Yeah, I figured you’d make the connection. McKinnon was clean, but Brooks was dirty. He was secretly a member of the New World Militia. He set a firebomb that almost killed Ryan Callahan—Reilly O’Neill—and the woman who is now Callahan’s wife. They escaped by the skin of their teeth. Then Callahan and another man laid a trap for Pennington—with my help. A trap Pennington walked right into,” he said with satisfaction.
He didn’t come right out and say it, but Cate guessed from his expression that whatever trap Pennington had walked into, he hadn’t walked out of...ever.
“Four years ago,” D’Arcy continued, “Pennington’s son, Michael Vishenko—née Pennington—tried to get revenge on the six men he held responsible for what he considered his father’s murder. Ryan Callahan was one of those men. I was another.”
“My sister was involved in that case,” Liam offered. “She almost died when she stepped in front of a bullet to protect someone else.”
“Special Agent Keira Jones was—and still is—one of the best agents I have,” D’Arcy agreed. “Although her last name is Walker now.” He pursed his lips, as if debating whether or not to reveal something, then said, “She was instrumental in locating you last year. She made the connection between a name she was asked to investigate by her former partner in the agency—McKinnon—and what seemed to be a totally unrelated case regarding someone the agency had been keeping tabs on for years, Aleksandrov Vishenko.”
D’Arcy smiled slightly. But it was the kind of smile, Cate realized, that boded ill for whoever was on the receiving end. Not her. Vishenko. D’Arcy went on to explain, “It was the contract he had out on you that tipped her off—a contract whose price was upped from a half million to a million dollars. With the agency’s blessing she helped her brother track you down. He never would have found you without her. Never would have rescued you in time.”
