Matthew leaned over the laptop and stared at the shot of downtown D.C., nothing he really recognized. It was no longer dark and empty since the power had come back on.
“What is it?”
“George Washington University Hospital.”
“So what?”
“Matthew, listen, Vanessa’s alive. She’s alive!”
Matthew shook his head. “No, impossible, I shot her in the heart and burned the building down around her. With Ian. What are you talking about?”
“They’re talking about Vanessa. Listen.”
Andy pointed to the laptop screen, turned up the volume. A reporter—long smooth blond hair, perfect makeup—stood, mike in hand, in front of a hospital.
“Turn it up, Andy.”
“. . . The explosion at Bayway Refinery in Elizabeth, New Jersey, continues to be under investigation. We can now confirm the reports that a federal agent tied to the investigation was also recovered Monday evening from a burning building in Brooklyn. The agent, thought to be undercover, was transported to George Washington University Hospital. I have been told she is in serious but stable condition in the ICU.”
Andy was shaking his head back and forth. “That’s gotta be a lie, I mean, I saw her with my own eyes. Like you said, you shot her dead, and she was on the floor, bleeding all over the place, and she wasn’t moving. They’ve got to be making that up.”
Matthew felt strangely detached from himself at that moment.Andy was right, it was a lie, had to be. Vanessa was dead. True, he hadn’t seen her sightless eyes staring up at him as he had Ian, he hadn’t leaned down to feel for a pulse, but he’d never doubted that she was dead. Obviously they were trying to set up a trap to get him to the hospital. The idiots. He wasn’t that great a fool.
His brain looped back. But what if she’d really survived? Vanessa was smart, he knew that. He didn’t doubt she was a hotshot agent, always thinking, always on red alert, always knowing what to do.
The reporter continued: “The Federal Bureau of Investigation has been tasked with finding her assailants. It is not known how she is attached to this investigation, nor what her role was. We’ll have more on this story at the top of the hour. Back to you in the studio . . .”
Matthew sank back into the chair, covered his eyes with his hand. No, he didn’t think it was a lie, not now. Vanessa was that smart. She’d played dead until he was gone. How had she not burned up with Ian? The hidden exit to the roof—that must have been how she’d managed to get out.
“She’s alive,” he heard Andy repeat again. Andy seemed a mile away, his bewildered kid’s voice like a loud echo. Matthew scarcely heard him. He was utterly unimportant at the moment.
Andy’s voice broke in on him, louder now, “Hey, Matthew, she’s a federal agent. Can you beat that?” Andy started slapping his hands against his head and his voice rose to the familiar whine Matthew hated. “Man, we are screwed. Totally and completely screwed. What do we do now? She’s going to tell them all about us. Wait, she’s already told them about us, they already know who we are.
“And how did she survive? Why didn’t you make sure she was dead? But you didn’t, you just ordered me around and wouldn’t even let me set the fire, and here it was my own special mix, and look what happened.”
Matthew looked toward the grating voice. He didn’t really see Andy. He saw failure, and it was bright and hard and burned deep, making rage grow, roil around, twisting, bending his mind, taking over.
Andy shouted, “And Ian named you the Bishop? Because you’re such a genius, like a great chess player who can figure out twenty moves ahead? Well, you sure blew this one, didn’t you? Talk about failure, this is the biggie, Matthew. They’re going to find us and if they don’t kill us dead, they’re gonna put us in prison forever or fry us. You’ve killed us both!”