Even now, even after everything, Dr. Clark did everything in the name of Senza Nome.
Ivy would get her surrender. She’d get Mrs. Perkins in a body bag and Dr. Clark in handcuffs. She’d get two-thirds of the mercenaries.
The remaining men—the ones Daniela had struck a deal with—would get out of this alive and much richer, so long as they helped take down the rest. It was amazing how easy it was to find men willing to turn on their cohorts when there were $20 million and charges of treason at stake.
I heard the first gunshot.
The subset of the mercenaries Daniela had offered to Ivy on a platter wouldn’t go willingly. That was why Daniela had stationed two of her men at my door—and more at the doors of the other classrooms.
More shots. Coordinated movement.
Daniela had brought the snipers down. She’d allowed the SWAT team in, and now they were doing what SWAT teams did.
“She’ll make it out of this?” Dr. Clark spoke suddenly. “Daniela?”
That was the plan—and based on the tone in Dr. Clark’s voice, that was what she wanted. That was all she wanted.
“Are you really doing this for the greater good?” I asked. “Or for her?”
“We’re clear!” I heard someone shout from the hallway.
That would be the sign for the remaining mercenaries—Daniela’s men, the ones she’d struck a deal with—to leave. Daniela gets away. A small subset of the men get away. The government gets their body bags and their arrests.
And no one would ever know the difference.
“Not just for her.” Dr. Clark’s answer came on enough of a delay that I’d stopped expecting her to reply to my question at all. “I’m doing this for the man who recruited me. The one who recruited all of us, trained all of us.”
This was the first I’d heard a mention of a man, the first clue I’d been given that someone was in charge of Senza Nome.
“Daniela proved herself tonight,” Dr. Clark said. “She’s worthy.”
“Worthy?” My stomach twisted sharply. Daniela had been the devil I knew. She’d been the lesser of two evils.
But she was still a terrorist. My people, the organization I work for—they have been my family. Daniela’s words washed back over me as the door burst inward and SWAT officers poured in. I was taught, from the cradle, to protect that family.
“Worthy,” Dr. Clark repeated as the men threw her facedown on the floor. “She’s his daughter.”
“We’ve got one wounded!” a woman shouted, kneeling over Henry.
“Secure!”
Amid the shouts, my concentration was wholly absorbed in Dr. Clark.
“His daughter?” I asked.
To the people you have been dealing with, Daniela had told me, let us say that I am a concern.
Dr. Clark’s face pressed into the floor, her hands cuffed behind her back, she smiled. “His daughter. And now that she’s proved herself,” she said, every inch the true believer, “his heir.”
CHAPTER 64
The occupation of Hardwicke made international news. So, too, did the takedown. All the terrorists had been either apprehended or killed.
Or at least, that was how the story went.
As far as the world was concerned, Daniela Nicolae had served as a double agent, helping the SWAT team infiltrate the building and take down her cohorts inside. Both she and her unborn child had been killed in the process.
The United States government had their victory. The Hardwicke parents had their children back. And I had another truth—another secret—I didn’t want to know.
I wondered if it was the weight of secrets like this, as much as the fact that they served as a protective measure, that had made Ivy start keeping her files. She uploaded her secrets to the program. Maybe that meant she didn’t have to carry them inside.
“Raise your arm over your head. Now rotate it away from me.”
Grinding my teeth, I did as the doctor asked. I had a hairline fracture in my jaw, one hell of a headache, and a shoulder that the doctor subsequently informed me had not been dislocated, but that wasn’t very happy either.
I felt it. I felt all of it—all the pain, all the terror, all the ways this could have gone differently—now that the ordeal was over.
“What’s the verdict, doctor? Will our patient live?”
At some point, when I’d been caught up in the treacherous tangle of my own mind, Adam had entered the exam room. The doctor narrowed her eyes at him.
“Are you her father?” she asked.
Ivy was off running interference with the media, keeping them away from the hospital—away from Henry, away from Anna Hayden, away from me. If she’d had her way, Ivy never would have left my side.
“Uncle.” Adam answered the doctor’s question about being my father. I could see the woman on the verge of telling him she could only speak to my parent or legal guardian.
I spoke up. “Close enough.”