A Cloak of Lies Ch. 03

When Niko climbed back in and put the car in gear, she turned to speak to him. "Tell me more about all this. Just exactly what is Hyde into and why does it affect you?"

"Plutonium," he muttered. "Spent plutonium."

She laughed out loud, shaking her head. "You're joking. This is like some kind of bad spy novel. What does he have to do with plutonium?"

Niko turned to fix her with a somber glare, silencing her laughter. "Plutonium is a by-product of nuclear power generation. The state of Illinois has a lot of nuclear powered generators."

"Yeah? So?"

"So, the good Senator has been supplying terrorist groups with plutonium. Those groups use the stuff for making 'dirty bombs' for their operations."

Camille's face registered the shock that she was experiencing. "You mean that son of a bitch is helping the people who...?"

"Yep. So far it's been small amounts -- just one or two shipments a year -- but things are starting to heat up now. After 9/11 the pressure has been on pretty heavy."

"But I still don't see how that effects you."

Niko switched on the windshield wipers, swiping the glass clear of a large junebug that had nose-dived into a splattering suicide. "That day, in his office, I overheard a phone conversation. I was about to deliver some documents to him when I heard him talking. He was on his cell phone, sounded pissed. He told whoever he was talking to that he was done taking orders. Then he said, 'The plutonium will be there, just make sure that your people don't fuck it up.'"

"I wasn't sure I'd heard him right, so I stayed behind the door and listened some more. He said that he was afraid of getting caught, and that he'd had enough. There was more to it, too, but the gist of it was that he was involved in illegally diverting shipments of spent radioactive material that were marked for storage in Nevada. We think he diverts small amounts, one or two rods at a time, and then sends them overseas.

"We can't connect him directly to the activities, but we're sure he's behind it and we know he's not acting alone. Whoever is pulling his strings has to be very well-financed, most likely someone within our own borders."

"This is insane, Niko," Camille hissed incredulously. "I don't want to believe this shit."

"Believe it or not, it's the game in play. This is really serious stuff."

"But..." Camille stammered, trying to get her mind around all that he'd just told her. "I don't understand why anyone would come after me. What's this got to do with me?"

"You, my darling wife, are a pawn in the game. After I woke up in that hospital and the suits came in, they told me that I was missing and presumed dead. They said that Hyde had some kind of memorial service for me and that you were safe as long as I stayed dead. They told me if it were ever known that I was alive, the people behind it all would use you to get to me. They kept at me, talking for hours until I started to believe what they told me. I was to join ranks with them, 'fight the good fight' for my country." Niko snorted loudly, shaking his head at his own foolishness and naiveté.

"I was an idiot," he continued, feeling his own shame. "I swallowed it all -- hook, line and sinker. They told me to stick with them for a few weeks after I got out of the hospital and I could have my life back," he took a breath, turning to gaze at his wife. "I thought I would be gone for a little while and then I'd have you back."

He turned his eyes back to the road. "Then things got out of hand. We did everything we could, but we still couldn't catch Hyde in the act or find enough evidence to corner him and make him talk. We don't know who his contacts are. We don't know who's behind it all. Every time one of the operatives gets close, he ends up dead."

Camille gasped, the gravity of the situation finally settling in her mind. "You have to get away, Niko, before they kill you."

"And go where? Do what? Everything I've done was so that I could get back to you. I have been through hell trying to get to the bottom of it all and find my way home. It's better they kill me," he muttered.

"Don't say that, Niko. I won't listen to it."

He turned to look at her again, showing her the loneliness and pain he'd suffered for so long. "If I thought you meant that, I'd carry you off right now. I'd take you to another country and start our lives all over again."

"I care, Niko. You were the center of my world once."

"But not anymore. You've moved on."

She didn't answer him, turning away to watch the white lines on the side of the highway speed by outside the car. How could she tell him what was in her heart when she didn't even know herself. The past years of her life had been predicated on the knowledge that he was gone and would never return. Now, here he was, sitting beside her and tearing her away from the life she had struggled to rebuild.

"I'm sorry, Camille. That was unfair," he sighed. "That's okay," she whispered. "I know it has to be hard for you."

Niko cleared his throat, "I came back because we'd received word that they found out I was alive. I was working as an operative, but they didn't know who I was. Then one of our guys was caught. They made him talk before they killed him.

"The minute I heard about it, I lit out. I panicked. All I knew was that I had to get to you before they did. Stupid of me. Now I'm listed as a rogue agent.

"I should've known that they'd have you staked out, waiting for me to make a dumb move like that, but I wasn't thinking straight. I didn't trust the Company to keep you safe. They were waiting for me last night, the 'bad guys.' I got lucky. We got you out before they could move in."

Camille was silent, contemplating all that he was telling her and trying to make sense of it. Then she looked at him, turning her body and pulling one leg up on the seat to wrap her arms around. "Exactly what is this company that you work for?"

"The Company," he said, a derisive note in his voice. "It's super-secret spy shit that no one knows about, maybe not even the president. They call themselves an intelligence agency, but it's nothing more than a collection of morons with over-inflated egos trying to justify their over-sized budgets. If they had someone with half a brain running the outfit, we'd have world peace and feed the hungry with the surplus."

"You sound pretty jaded."

"I am. I've been fighting their bureaucracy for the better part of a decade."

"Is it the CIA?"

"No," he scoffed. "CIA has nothing on us."

"How many spy agencies does this country have?" she asked, exasperated.

"More than you'd guess. It's crazy. The bureaus are pitted against one other, each fighting for its fair share of the pie and each trying to be the first to break whatever faction we're all supposed to be fighting. Instead of working together, they throw out misinformation and false leads and sneak around behind each other's backs."

"So, let me get this straight. You overheard a conversation, called Rob Phelps, and you think he sent you into an ambush. You were shot, dumped in the river and left for dead. Then someone must have gotten you out, put you in a hospital where this 'company' drafted you, telling you that you had no choice. Then you spent the last eight years trying to stop terrorists."

"That's it in a nutshell."

"Niko," Camille said, her mind still trying to comprehend the magnitude of their position. "I can't run like this. I have to get home. Surely..."

"No, Camille. You can't go home. They'll kill you if you do."

"I'm willing to take that chance. It's my life."

"Are you willing to take that chance with my life?" he asked, his face somber. "I'll stay with you. You know that. I'd never leave you in danger."

"Niko, you can't stay. I..." She stopped, pulling her hair back from her eyes, wanting to find words that would lessen the blow but knowing there weren't any. "I have a new life now. Doug and I have plans for the future. I'm sorry, I really am, but that's the way of it."

She saw the pain in his eyes, the disappointment that surfaced just before he turned his attention back to the road before them. "I won't stand in your way, Camille. I know it's too late for us, but I can't let anything happen to you. Your future and your Doug will just have to wait."

"I'm sorry, Niko," she murmured, feeling guilty and sad. Remembering those months that they had spent as husband and wife and the years before when they'd dated. She'd thought they'd be together forever. Their connection had been so strong they'd always known what the other was thinking or feeling. "There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

His head snapped around, his eyes glittering in the dashboard lights. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, because you look like someone just grabbed your nuts in a vise, for one," she retorted. "You've changed a lot, but I still know you, Niko. Besides, it doesn't make any sense that anyone would still be looking for you if all you had on them was one side of a phone conversation that took place almost a decade ago."

"You always were a smart person, Camille, but consider this. I've been hounding those sons of bitches for years now and they want me stopped. If they have to use you to do it, they will"

"Okay, so what's in St. Louis?"

"A pit stop. There's a place we use there, a safe house of sorts. We can get some rest and you can have your shower. We'll see if we can find you some clean clothes, too."

He turned his head to smile at her, looking like a small boy waiting for approval. She remembered that look all too well. It was one of the things that had endeared him to her all those years ago. Sudden thoughts of Doug stole into her mind as she smiled back. He would be frantic by now, wondering what had happened to her. If she could just get to a phone, call him and let him know that she was all right. Then she wondered if he could be in danger as well. He would have to be warned.

"Once we get some rest, Olan and I will see what we can come up with. We have to try to get back to the Ranch, where we can keep you safe."

"What ranch? Where the hell is it?"

"It's a code name for HQ. It's on the East Coast. We need to get there before the first of the week so we won't be able to rest long in St. Louis."

"Why's it so important we get there by next week?"

"I'm a rogue agent, remember? If I don't report soon, the Company will be sending goons out for me."

"Wait a minute. You mean we're on the run from terrorists and the feds? What've you gotten me into? What happens if the goons get to you before you report in?"

Niko's eyes, cold and barren, told her all she needed to know. In them she saw the death that awaited him should he fail to follow through. A fist of ice wrapped around her heart, dragging it into the pit of her stomach. His confident smile, meant to reassure her, fell somewhat short of the mark.

"Don't worry, Camille," he declared, patting her knee. "We'll get there in time. As soon as we meet up with Olan and get some rest, we'll head out."

At that moment, a man was folding a piece of paper while he struggled to remain upright on a hard linoleum floor. He winced in pain as he lifted a shaking hand, stained red with his own blood, to unlock the small box nestled in the wall before him. The strip of cloth he'd ripped from his shirt and stuffed in the hole in his shoulder had soaked through and the blood was now spilling down his front, small crimson drops hitting the floor.

He stuffed the paper in the box, closed and locked the little metal door before shambling out into the night. His head was spinning, the world around him pitching precariously with each step he took. He'd need to stop the flow of blood soon or he would grow weaker, pass out somewhere and die.