Collision

Hector spoke in a low voice, and to Ben it sounded like bones cracking. “Teach was told by one of her taskmasters that Emily was selling secrets to China. That she was meeting a Chinese agent in Maui to pass Agency secrets she’d learned through my contracts with the Agency. She had to be taken out.”

“Is this true?” Ben yelled. He remembered Pilgrim’s litany of sins: A couple of times I killed people selling secrets to the Chinese.

Pilgrim looked up from the concrete and met his stare. “Yes, Ben. I… yes. I killed her.”

Ben thought his head would explode from the wave of pain. “You.. . you…”

“I had no idea,” Pilgrim said. “They gave me an address and her description. Nothing else about her.”

Ben thought: He didn’t even know her name.

“He pulled the trigger, Ben, that’s all that matters,” Hector said.

Pilgrim swallowed, tried to speak, failed, then managed. “I… I was told to wait for a phone call. It would mean to go ahead.”

You have to kill him. What Ben had thought in the fury of the fight with Jackie, the thoughts crowded into his head like a cancer.

“Ben,” Hector said, “your only hope is to make a deal with me. What do you want in compensation? I’ll give it to you. Bringing me down won’t bring Emily back. Your career’s over now, you know that. You may be facing prison time. My contacts in the government can pardon you. I have the power to save you, Ben; he has nothing. You just have to stay quiet.”

“You stay quiet,” Ben said. He kept his stare locked on Pilgrim.

“My hands are clean, his are bloodied.”

“You do what’s necessary, Ben,” Pilgrim said quietly.

The word necessary burned Ben’s brain like a hot iron against flesh. You do the necessary work, he’d reassured Pilgrim, more than once, during the past few days. His chest ached.

Ben steadied the gun on Pilgrim. “You shot my wife to death.” Every word was ice in Ben’s throat.

Pilgrim nodded, as though a noose already decorated his neck. Slowly. He closed his eyes, his mouth worked.

“Ben, shoot him,” Hector said. “Nothing can bring back Emily. But you don’t have to let him live. Shoot him, you’re a hero. You’ve killed a rogue CIA agent. The government will exonerate you from all charges.”

Pilgrim made a square with fingers over his heart. “Your aim sucks. Hit inside here and it’s done.”

Ben fired. The bullet caught the chest perfectly, and Hector jerked and whimpered at the spreading crimson blossom on his shirt.

“Pilgrim killed her,” Ben said, “but you gave the order.”

Hector sagged to the floor, expression blanking, a gurgle and then he was done, the bullet perfect in the chest.

Ben raised the gun again at Pilgrim. He still held the square for vengeance over his heart.

One bullet left. Ben’s grip tightened on the gun. Decide.

“Put your hands down,” Ben said, “I’m not going to kill you. They lied to you about her.”

Pilgrim lowered his hands. He took a step toward Ben. “I’m so sorry. Because you are my friend.”

“God help you.” The gun trembled in Ben’s hand. Then he lowered it and turned away from Pilgrim.

“Ben…”

“Get the hell away from me. Please. Just go.”

The door busted inward. Vochek and four men in Homeland Security windbreakers rushed the room, guns out and ready.

Ben and Pilgrim froze, five feet apart. The guns swiveled on Ben; the only one obviously armed.

“Ben, drop your weapon,” Vochek ordered.

Ben obeyed. The pistol clattered to the concrete.

“Move away from the gun,” one of the men ordered and Ben took a step back.

“Pilgrim, on the ground, now,” Vochek said. She softened her tone. “Please.”

Pilgrim didn’t move. He ignored the men and Vochek. “I thought we won. I thought we finally won… How many bullets left, Ben?”

“One,” Ben said. “But don’t.”

“Shut up and get on the ground!” one of the agents yelled.

Pilgrim looked straight into Ben’s eyes. “Necessary,” he said, then jumped for Ben’s gun. His fingers closed around it, lifted it from the floor. The shots cannoned and echoed, an awful salute. Pilgrim staggered against the wall, sliding down while blood smeared the gray concrete behind him.

Ben grabbed Pilgrim and caught him before he sprawled on the floor. Held him through the rattle of his final breaths. Then lowered him to the ground.

Khaled’s Report-Virginia

I have not been asked to write my thoughts for a report for four months, since the attack on the house in New Orleans. Perhaps it is time again for another analysis of my handwriting by the folks in Langley, to see if I have lost my nerve to stay with my job.

At first, when I realized the house was being breached-I thought it was a test. Then the gunfire simply sounded far too real. I hurried down the steps and I saw an older man, he raised a gun at me and stupidly I froze. I will never make that mistake again. Then a second man shot the gun from the older man’s hand, and I shot at the second man because I was scared to death.

The man who saved me-I will never forget his face. Determined, courageous, but hard. Unyielding, like stone. It is the face I try to wear as I do my job.