He had seen Burton wounded before, but this time Burton looked grim. That, more than anything else, made his stomach churn. “What happened?”
“Another setup,” Deion growled. “We had O’Mara, and then we were attacked. Bill took a round to the arm. The docs at Mildenhall sewed him up, but it did a lot of damage. The man who killed O’Mara was wearing a suicide vest. I assume you saw the video?”
“I did.”
“The DFA claims the US assassinated a UK citizen.”
“Nobody will believe that,” Eric said. “Why would we kill a hacker when we were the ones arresting him?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Valerie said. “O’Mara was shot by a soldier. People don’t know the difference. All they’ll see is a young man killed as he was dragged from his house.”
“Tell me you got actionable intel from this mess,” Eric said.
Deion nodded. “Karen should have what she needs.”
Karen nodded. “I’ve got a team analyzing the servers. If there’s something there, we’ll find it.”
Eric could tell that Deion was chomping at the bit to discuss the bigger problem. “Tell me about John.”
“He knows,” Deion said. “He remembers everything.”
Nancy started to speak, but Eric raised his hand. “Are you sure?”
Deion snorted. “Shit, man, he was talking about the Red Cross bombing.”
Eric nodded. “Was he injured?”
“The explosion knocked him for a loop,” Martin said.
“He remembers,” Deion said. “Weren’t you listening?”
“I am,” Eric said. “I’m just not as concerned by it—”
“You knew,” Nancy said. She inhaled sharply. “You knew John had regained his memories.”
Clark and Kryzowski stared at him in shock. On the screen, Deion was shaking his head in disbelief. Valerie and Taylor Martin sat in stunned silence. Bill Burton was the only one not visibly upset.
“Yes,” Eric admitted. “I knew.”
Deion sucked air over his teeth. “For how long, man? How long have you known?”
“Since the bombing at Ramstein.”
“That was over two years ago,” Deion said. “Two years and John had reverted to the same psycho we interrogated in Guantánamo.” Valerie put her hand on Deion’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off. “Why didn’t you tell me? How many missions have we worked with him? How many times could he have killed us all?”
“He didn’t,” Eric said.
Deion slammed his fist against the Gulfstream’s plastic table. “That’s not… I don’t know what to say. You lied to us.”
“I withheld certain facts,” Eric said. “I compartmentalized information.”
Nancy sat up in her chair. “You lied, Eric.”
“Look at the facts,” Eric said. “There was always a chance the memory replacement might fail. Since Ramstein, John has done his job with valor.”
Nancy’s eyes narrowed until only the barest hint of blue was visible. “The only reason my father authorized the StrikeForce trial was because the subject wouldn’t remember the people he murdered in cold blood!”
“He deserves our support.”
“He doesn’t deserve your support,” Nancy said. “He deserves a bullet in his fucking head!”
Martin had listened to the conversation with a sour look on his face. “I’m with the boss lady,” Martin finally spoke up. “Nothing excuses what he did.”
Karen coughed politely, and Eric turned to her. “You have an opinion, too?”
Karen wilted under his gaze, but she finally said, “Maybe he doesn’t deserve to die, but he did bomb the Red Cross. He’s got to pay for that.”
“He has been paying for it,” Eric said. He turned to Clark. “Todd? You’ve been awfully quiet.”
Clark frowned. “I don’t have any connection to Frist. I’ve never been in the field with him…”
“You’re the objective third party,” Eric said. “Please. I value your opinion.”
“He’s a tool,” Clark said slowly, “but he’s a dangerous tool. You haven’t been burned yet, but there is one simple truth.”
“What’s that?” Eric asked.
“He’s loaded with experimental technology,” Clark said. “That makes him a deadly threat.”
Eric sighed. “Bill? You’re the holdout.”
Burton glanced around at his teammates on the Gulfstream. “I’m with you, Steeljaw. Until the end.”
Eric considered that. “You’re sure?”
“I’m with you, hoss. Always have been. Always will be. You say John’s aces, then that’s good enough for me.”
Eric regarded them thoughtfully. “This business with the DFA has us on edge. We’ll wait for your return and then we’ll see to John when he arrives.”
Deion glared at the camera. “We need to make a decision—”
“And we will,” Eric said.
“I hope to shit you know you what you’re doing.” Deion stabbed at the button to end the call.
Nancy turned to Kryzowski. “Can you and the sergeant clear the room?”
Karen stood and nodded at Clark. “Todd and I will see if the analysts have learned anything from those servers.”
Clark exited first, and Karen gave him a long, lingering glance before she left. When they were gone, Nancy stood and leaned over the table. “I can’t believe I trusted you.”
“I made a decision—”
“You made a mistake,” Nancy said. “If my father knew about this, he’d have you removed.”
“Tell him,” Eric said. “I don’t know how much longer he’ll be able to comprehend it.”
“You—”
“I’ve been dreading this conversation,” Eric said. “Your father isn’t in charge.”
“He built the OTM,” Nancy snarled. “You’re in charge because he put you in charge. He can revoke that at any time.”
“He could try,” Eric said carefully, “but he set up the OTM so that the director has the final say, and I am the director.”
“You — you don’t have—”
“I’ve spoken with Barnwell,” Eric said. “I wanted to clarify your father’s diagnosis. He is reporting your father is mentally incapacitated and no longer fit to be involved with the OTM.”
Nancy stared at him in disbelief. “You can’t—”
“It’s done,” Eric said. “Fulton wanted a successor. He knew what was coming. You don’t have to like it, Nancy, you just have to follow your orders.”
Nancy’s mouth opened and closed. “I don’t have to listen to this.”
His chest tightened. “You work for the OTM. You’ll follow orders.”
Nancy’s face flushed, and she clenched her hands into fists. “If you think you can push me around, you haven’t been paying attention.”
“If I just wanted to sleep with you,” Eric said, “I’d nod my head and say what you want to hear. I’m not that kind of man. I was brought in to do the job. I decide what happens with John. If it’s a mistake, then it’s on me. I hope you understand. I may like you, but I’m not changing my mind just to please you.”
Nancy pointed a shaky finger at him, her face turning splotchy red, then she spun on her heel and stormed out, slamming the heavy door behind her.
That didn’t go… well.
Karen had barely made it to her desk when John Waverly tapped her on her shoulder. “Got a minute?”
She nodded. Waverly led her from the War Room to the coffee shop halfway across the underground base. She watched as he ordered a large coffee. “You suck.”