“I was wondering when you’d get around to that,” Cattrall said with a knowing look. “I reviewed the police report, and it was far worse than what came out in the news.”
“Vega was only seventeen at the time,” Wu said. “The police withheld a lot from the media to protect her and the other children. Everyone knew her mother killed her father, but they didn’t know Vega had walked into the middle of it.”
The NYPD report indicated young Dani Vega had walked home from Bronx Compass High School in the afternoon and entered her family’s apartment on Benedict Avenue to discover her father lying on the living room floor. Her mother had been kneeling over him, clutching a bloody butcher’s knife later determined to be from their kitchen.
Dani had rushed to disarm her mother, who collapsed in hysterics, and tried to resuscitate her father. She had called 9-1-1, and the call taker had talked her through CPR while dispatching first responders. Police and EMTs had arrived to find Dani trying to save her father, and her mother catatonic.
“I spoke with her mother’s treating psychiatrist at Bellevue this morning,” Cattrall said. “Camila Vega is beginning to show signs of improvement, but she’s still not communicative. Her IQ tests out in the top two percent, but she has a history of being emotionally unstable. He has gathered from Camila’s family that she was abused as a child in some way. No one will talk about it.”
“Their three kids were sent to live with their aunt and uncle,” Wu said. “They have an apartment on a different floor in the same building.” He recalled the meeting with Erica and Axel that had cracked the case wide open. “I met her aunt, who I gather was not fond of Dani.”
“The aunt is her father’s sister,” Cattrall said. “She told the psychiatrist she never liked Camila. She obviously transferred her resentment onto the only target at hand . . . the daughter who reminded her of the sister-in-law who murdered her brother.”
Wu didn’t waste his breath pointing out that it wasn’t fair, instead focusing on how this could impact his agent. “I can see why she joined the Army at eighteen.”
“She seems to have idolized her father and wanted to follow in his footsteps,” Cattrall said. “Pushing herself to attain the same elite status he did tells me she wanted to prove she was her father’s daughter—not her mother’s.”
Wu understood more than he was willing to share. Constantly in the shadow of his older brother, he was on his own relentless campaign to prove himself to his family.
“But things went to hell overseas,” Cattrall continued.
According to military records, Vega was deployed to assist a Ranger unit tasked with disrupting an overseas terrorist cell. After enemy combatants were taken into custody, she deciphered coded messages written on scraps of paper in their compound. Unfortunately for everyone involved, she did not decode the materials fast enough.
Within minutes, explosives detonated in the room where two members of the team were guarding the prisoners, killing all of them. Vega, who was among those injured in the ensuing collapse of the building, told her FBI applicant investigator she held herself responsible. One of the scraps she was examining contained coded information about remotely detonated devices placed in the building. If she could have deciphered the information faster, she could have evacuated the building.
Wu thought Vega was being hard on herself, but the mission had resulted in her return to the States for a lengthy recovery, during which she completed her bachelor’s degree in an accelerated program. She healed fully during that time, returning to Fort Benning to earn her scroll, becoming one of a small contingent of women to earn the distinction. She was assigned to the 75th Ranger Regiment, where she served honorably until her tour of duty ended.
He posed the question that had been nagging at him since he’d delved deeper into her files. “How would someone with Vega’s history react under these circumstances?”
“Our applicant psych eval detected evidence of PTSD, but not substantial enough to prevent her from executing her duties as a federal agent,” Cattrall said. “Of course, her current case is not anything close to a typical assignment.”
A monumental understatement. Vega was trapped in a closed environment, thrust back into a combat situation where she was forced to kill others and witness their grisly deaths, knowing all the while she could be next. What would that do to the psyche of a combat veteran?
Wu’s admiration for her only grew as he learned more about her. The fact that she had gone through as much as she had in her life spoke to an enormous inner reserve of strength, but everyone had a breaking point. Would Vega reach hers in the confines of a brutal game?
“I’m also concerned about you,” Cattrall said to him. “You’re showing signs of stress and fatigue. When is the last time you slept?”
Her observation disturbed him. “I’m fine, Doctor. I’ll sleep when my agent and our asset are safe.”
She gave him a long look, letting the silence stretch between them. “You may outrank nearly everyone in this building,” she said. “But I can go to Assistant Director Hargrave and let him know your judgment may be compromised by extreme exhaustion.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I can and I will if you don’t level with me.”
He blew out a frustrated sigh. “I haven’t been sleeping much, but I catch quick naps in here when I can.”
“You’re working around the clock because you hold yourself responsible for their capture.” She made it a statement rather than a question.
His shoulders slumped a fraction. “It’s on me,” he said quietly. “All of it.”
He would face a formal inquiry from the Office of Professional Responsibility. They would find him responsible, and he would accept whatever discipline came his way. His only shot at redemption—from the Bureau as well as from his own conscience—was to get Vega and Toro back safely.
CHAPTER 46
Dani considered their predicament. Toro had the mask and the knife, but she had the gun. They were both standing on a bench that formed an island surrounded by a sea of thickening haze that continued to rise. Soon the room would be filled with whatever toxic gas Nemesis had released.
She flipped through a mental catalog of various gases described in her training and immediately thought of several that were lighter than air and would therefore rise in a confined space. None of this gave her confidence, and she shut down that avenue of thought. It did not serve either of them.
“Looks like only one of us gets out of this alive,” Toro said, apparently coming to his own conclusions on their dilemma.
As they locked gazes, she ran through every conceivable scenario, discarding one idea after another. They could not share the mask, which had to be properly sealed to remain effective. If her guess about the gas was correct, it was an extreme irritant to the eyes and sinuses as well as the throat and lungs. The mask would become contaminated if exposed to the airborne particles, rendering it useless to both of them if they tried to swap it back and forth.
She had spent thousands of hours learning how to adapt and overcome in the most dangerous circumstances. Survival, the most primal instinct, screamed for dominance.
But she was more than her primal instincts. She was Daniela Vega, FBI agent and former soldier.
She was also the daughter of a murderer. She had been forced to kill many times and had just done so again mere hours ago.
Recalling her earlier conversation with Toro, she considered what made her different from him. And then she knew.
She lived by a code.
Part Ranger, part FBI, part personal, she had developed her own core values. When she had accepted this assignment, that included responsibility for Toro. She had to answer for his actions, and she also had to ensure his safety to the best of her ability while they worked undercover together.
Nemesis wanted to demean and demoralize them, watch them scratch and claw like animals in a pit. She refused to debase herself for someone else’s amusement.
She finally broke the silence. “I’m not going to shoot you and take the mask, if that’s what you’re asking, Toro.”
“Didn’t think you would.” His gaze shifted away, putting the lie to his words. He stared at the mask in his hands without putting it on.
“It’s not going to do you any good unless it’s on your face,” she said. “And it has to stay tightly sealed.”
He still didn’t move. The gas crept higher, spreading across the room. He seemed to be having some sort of inner battle.
He held the mask out to her. “Put it on.”
She stared at him, stunned. “I told you I wouldn’t take it from you.”
“And I would have fought you if you tried,” he said. “But you didn’t. So now I’m giving it to you.”