[An AU Future...] Take That, Sofia Coppola
[Notes: I am not the author. The mun behind dpd_hbic wrote this after a viewing of the Godfather and a discussion with fakes_death's mun outed her favorite as the third. It was well done and involves things that will never happen in Annie & Webb's future.]
__________________________________
Sidwell Friends had a reputation for keeping the children of diplomats, cabinet members, and presidents safe. As the daughter of the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, young Danielle Webb was no exception. Every day she was met by her bodyguard and driven home in an unmarked car. The teachers and staff knew both men, and knew not to let anyone else - with the exception of her parents - take her home. Even then, her driver had to present an ID to get onto the grounds, and the bodyguard had to show his to check her out at the end of he day.
Luckily for Dani, she wasn’t the only kid with a security detail. In her first grade class alone, there were eight other “high profiles” who went through the same rigorous steps at the end of the day. So it didn’t bother her that it took fifteen minutes to get through the front gates. Instead she skipped down the hallways, one arm swinging her lunchbox to and fro, until she reached the front doors. There she waved to Taylor, her bodyguard; like Rich, the driver, he was CIA trained, and like many of the other men waiting outside, he carried a 9mm under his suit jacket.
“Hey there, Dani,” Taylor said, greeting the girl with a wave. “Have a good day?”
“Yup,” Dani answered, hooking her thumbs around her backpack straps. “We learned about sharks.”
“Did you now?” he chuckled, showing his ID to the security guard.
“Yeah,” she said, excited to show off her newly acquired smarts. “Did you know if a shark stops swimming, it dies?”
“I had no idea,” Taylor answered, playing along as he escorted her to the waiting town car.
“It’s true,” Dani assured him, nodding her head emphatically as she climbed into the back, putting on her seat belt. “And they have a hundred million teeth!”
“I’m sure they do,” Taylor laughed, sitting next to her.
The drive home was filled with more of Dani’s stories about sharks, some true, most exaggerated. Taylor and Rich indulged her, asking questions about how many species of sharks there were, and how to avoid them. It was a normal day, the same as any day before, until they turned off the main road.
Taylor saw it first, the black car cutting across in front of them, its windows rolled down despite the February chill. He yelled out a warning to Rich, but it was too late; the cars collided, the front of the town car smashing into the side of the car in front of them. Immediately, Taylor undid Dani’s seat belt and told her to stay down before unbuckling himself. Rich was already out of the car, gun drawn, but in a matter of seconds he was down, blood seeping through his shirt onto the pavement. Taylor opened his door, crouching behind it for cover as he fired on the car. He didn’t realize until it was too late that a van had rolled up behind them.
The sound of a silencer round was the last thing he heard, along with Dani’s frightened scream.
_______
At the house, Annie was absorbed in planning the upcoming charity fundraiser at the country club. She had spent the better part of the afternoon on the phone, trying to work out the seating chart and menu. It was almost 4:30 when she finally hung up the phone with an exhausted sigh, resting her head on the kitchen counter for a moment. That was when she realized that the house was quiet.
“Dani?” she called out, walking toward the entryway so her voice would echo further. “Honey, are you home?”
When she was greeted by silence, she quickly looked into the living room and dining room, then upstairs. With no sign of her daughter, she pulled out her phone, dialing Rich first, then Taylor. When both went voicemail, she took a deep breath and called her husband, trying to keep her hands from shaking.
“Director Webb’s office,” answered his secretary, her bright tone grating on Annie’s nerves.
“It’s Annie,” she said quickly. “I need to speak to my husband.”
“One moment.” There was the click of the line being placed on hold, followed by an agonizing silence before he picked up.
“Webb,” Clay finally answered.
“She’s not home yet,” Annie blurted out. She could practically hear him go tense on the other end.
“Dani?” he said stiffly.
“Yes,” Annie said, trying not to let her rising panic come through. “I was on the phone with the club, I must have lost track of time, because I just realized they weren’t here -”
“It’ll be okay,” Clay said, also trying his best to stay calm. “I’m sure they just stopped for ice cream.”
“They aren’t answering,” she said, her mind racing through all the possibilities of what could have happened.
“I’ll send a team,” he told her, “and I’ll meet you at home.”
With that he hung up, pulling up the location of the car as he dialed the detail he had on call in case of such an emergency. Giving them the coordinates, he shut down his computer and walked briskly out of his office, without an explanation to his bewildered secretary.
Clay had never been more grateful for a high performance car than as he raced home, ignoring any posted speed limit markers. As he made his way up the drive to the house his phone rang, the number displaying the name of the team leader he’d dispatched.
“Sir, we’ve found the vehicle,” the man told him shortly. “Faris and Potter are dead.”
“And my daughter?” Clay held his breath.
“No sign of her, sir,” the agent said. “No sign that she was injured, either.”
“So, it’s a kidnapping,” he sighed wearily as he parked the car in front of the house.
“Looks that way, sir.”
“Canvas the area,” Clay directed, throwing open the front door before striding in. “Someone had to see something.”
Then he hung up, his eyes meeting Annie’s across the foyer. For a long moment, they stood in shocked silence. They had known this day could be a possibility, but they had always hoped it would never come to be. Tears glistened in Annie’s eyes, her face drawn. Clay opened his mouth to tell her what the team had told him, but before he could, the brassy ring of the house phone echoed ominously through the house.
Immediately, Clay picked up the line in the entryway. Annie ran to the kitchen to silently pick up another line, habit kicking in.
“Hello?” Clay’s voice was firm, even though she knew he was shaken.
“Agent Webb,” came a voice. It was smooth, heavily accented; within moments, they had both identified it as Italian.
“It’s Director Webb,” Clay corrected sternly. “Who is this?”
“Ah ah ah,” the man said. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Do you have my daughter?”
“I do, I do.” In the kitchen, Annie was already plotting ways to wipe the smirk off the man’s face.
“Let me talk to her,” Clay demanded. “Let me know she’s okay.”
There was a short pause, the rustle of the phone being put on speaker.
“Daddy?” Dani’s voice was distant, frightened. Both her parents had to fight the urge to cry.
“I’m here, sweetheart,” Clay said, his voice tight. “Are you alright?”
“I’m scared, Daddy. They hurt Taylor and Rich and it’s dark here -”
“That’s enough, I think,” her captor interrupted. “Now, I have an offer for you.”
“Whatever you want, I’ll pay it,” Clay said, his teeth gritted. “Just don’t hurt my baby girl.”
“I’ll set her free,” the man said. “But only if you take her place.”
Annie inhaled sharply, running out of the kitchen. She knew her husband, knew how much he loved their daughter. Knew she had to stop him before he made a mistake. But she was too late. As she stopped in the foyer, their eyes met.
“I’ll do it,” Clay said, knowing that Annie was going to throw a fit. He listened as the captor gave instructions for the meet; alone, in an industrial area outside of Baltimore. Three hours. Then the line disconnected. He called in a trace before staggering into the living room, sinking down onto the couch, his head in his hands. Annie sat next to him, silent, her hand resting gently on his shoulder.
After a long moment, he sat up with a sigh.
“I have to call Arthur,” he said, digging through his pockets for his cell phone.
Annie nodded, going back to the kitchen to make some tea. Once the initial panic had subsided, she found herself oddly calm, grateful that at least one of them was thinking clearly. She decided to wait before tearing her husband a new one for making a move as stupid as offering himself up to people they knew nothing about.
After all, she probably would have done the same thing.
_______
An hour later, Arthur was standing in the living room with a Company attorney. A handful of papers were laid out in front of Webb on the coffee table.
“You’re sure you want to do this,” Arthur said, less a question of concern than a formality.
“I have to,” Clay answered somberly. “As important as she is to me, I can’t let one little girl jeopardize the safety and security of the nation.”
“Alright, then,” Arthur sighed, nodding at the attorney. She talked Clay through the signatures and initials; a minute later, she was handing the stack of papers to Arthur.
“It’s all in order,” she said. “Until further notice, you are the acting Director of the Central Intelligence Agency.”
He looked them over, double checking that everything was done right. Then he handed the papers back to the stern-looking woman, who slipped them into her briefcase and left without another word. Annie watched from where she had been standing, behind the couch, her arms alternately folded across her chest and resting on her husband’s shoulders. She could swear his hair had gone grayer in the hour since they’d gotten the call.
“We’re going to get her back,” Arthur assured them, taking a seat in the armchair nearest Clay’s seat on the couch. “And here’s how.”
It was straightforward. A team was already scouting the area, setting up snipers on the rooftops, quietly closing down street access. Clay would go in alone, as far as the kidnappers could tell, but with a ground team monitoring his every move. Once he was in, they would move in, taking out the captors and rescuing Dani in one swoop. Bad guys getting out alive was far from being a top priority.
“Who’s leading the team?” Annie asked, running through possibilities in her mind.
“You are,” Arthur answered simply. “I know you’ll make sure it goes right.”
In spite of the situation, Annie smiled a little. She had missed being active in the field, knowing it was something you couldn’t give up, not really.
“Get ready,” he said. “We leave in ten.”
_______
A few minutes before the scheduled time, Clay was parked outside the industrial park, praying that everything would go according to plan. Annie sat in the front seat, holding his hand, already in her flak vest. She was devastated to see him so haggard, so tired, so... old. Dani was the light of his life, and as much as she loved her, Annie knew that Clay loved her more. So she swallowed her own panic, doing her best to stay strong for the man who’d kept her sane and alive all these years.
“This’ll be a walk in the park,” she told him gently. “In, out, done. She’ll be home in time for bedtime stories.”
Clay just nodded absently, staring out through the windshield at the maze of warehouses lying ahead. His eyes closed for a moment as Annie’s hand rested against his cheek, tenderly directing his gaze toward her. After a long moment, he laid his hand over hers, pulling it away from his face.
“She’s in there somewhere,” he said quietly. “They’ve got her tied up somewhere in the dark. She’s terrified - God, she sounded so scared...”
“But she knows you’re coming for her,” Annie said, trying her best to console him. “We’ll have to live with her sleeping in our bed for the next few months, but it’ll be worth it.”
There was a knock at the window, an agent signaling them it was almost time. Annie nodded her acknowledgment, then turned back to her husband.
“We’re getting her back,” she said one last time, giving him a quick kiss. “Just remember that.”
Then she opened the car door and got out, closing it softly behind her. She waited behind the car until she heard the engine rev to life, the brake lights glowing as Clay slowly coasted forward into the dark. Once he’d turned the corner, she retreated to the tactical van, checking her weapons along with the rest of the team.
Satisfied that they were ready, they moved silently forward into the complex.
Clay had found warehouse 19 with ease, parking the car before getting out. It was freezing, and for a moment he regretted not wearing an overcoat as the wind picked up from the nearby harbor. He looked around, staring into the shadows in an attempt to see his adversary. That was when the two men grabbed him from behind, throwing a black bag over his head as they quickly patted him down, tossing his watch and cell phone. Then he was shoved into a van; counting the turns, he figured they hadn’t left the complex, which meant he could be easily found again. The van squeaked to a halt, the men roughly pushing him out before taking hold of his arms, leading him into a new warehouse.
When the bag was removed, he was standing in front of a tall, thin man dressed a little too well to be standing in a mostly empty warehouse in Baltimore.
“Director Webb,” he said brightly. “So glad you could join us.”
Instantly, Clay recognized his voice as the man he’d spoken to on the phone.
“Where’s my daughter?” he demanded, forceful but calm.
“All in good time,” the man answered with a grin.
“Look, you have what you want,” Clay said. “You want a bargaining chip the United States government will actually pay attention to? It’s me.”
Which was a lie; he’d signed the position over to Arthur for a reason. Director or not, in the end he knew that he was just as expendable as the next guy. But he kept his face unreadable, trying his best to think of this as just another op.
“You think this is about money?” the man laughed.
“I think if you’re targeting me, it’s about information,” Clay answered flatly. “You would’ve kidnapped a millionaire’s kid if it was about money.”
“You think you’re so smart,” the man said, his expression darkening. He walked up to Clay until they were nose to nose. “You have no idea what this is about.”
Then with a flourish of his arms, his backed away.
“This,” he said, with a hint of glee, “is about revenge. Payback. Karma.”
On cue, another pair of men emerged from behind a stack of boxes, Dani struggling between them. Clay’s heart skipped a beat, relieved to see her still alive, but suddenly terrified of what their captors had planned.
“You don’t know who I am,” the man said, “so let me introduce myself. My name is Luciano Marcello.”
Marcello... the name rang familiar to Clay, but he couldn’t quite place it.
“Perhaps you remember my sister better. Teresa?” The smile instantly disappeared from Luciano’s face. “You killed her.”
Clay inhaled sharply. It had been years since he’d even thought about her, now just a footnote in the non-redacted version of his personal file.
“I’m sorry,” he said solemnly, keeping his gaze on Dani. “But you’ve got me now, you can do whatever you want.”
“Oh, I plan to,” Luciano said, pulling a pistol from his waistband. He aimed it at Clay’s head with a wicked grin. “I’m going to make you suffer for what you’ve done.”
“First let my daughter go,” Clay insisted. “That was the agreement.”
“No no no,” Luciano said, shaking his head with a slight chuckle. “You misunderstood me. I said I’d set her free, not let her go.”
It happened in an instant, so fast that at first, Clay thought it hadn’t happened at all. His stomach clenched in dread as he watched Luciano swing the gun from his head down to Dani’s. The shot rang out with a deafening crack, echoing around the building as the guards let go of her limp body. Clay watched in horror as she slumped to the floor, fighting against the two men holding him, not even realizing that he was screaming as tears rolled down his cheeks.
With a sadistically satisfied grin, Luciano once again approached him, gripping Clay’s chin to force him to look.
“I told you I was going to make you suffer,” he muttered. “Just the same as I have suffered every day without Teresa.”
Then he let go, watching as Clay’s head hung in defeat, the guards letting him sink to his knees. Clay braced himself with his hands to stay upright, unable to look up at his daughter’s body a few feet away. That was when he heard the muffled sound of glass breaking, the soft thuds of the men beside him hitting the floor as snipers on the roof next door took them out. The door behind him broke in and the sound of combat boots hitting the cold concrete floor made him miss the sound of Luciano falling the ground, gun scattering out of his hand. He looked up just in time to see Annie expertly take out the two men across the warehouse who were reaching for their guns. Then she dropped to her knees.
“Are you okay?” she asked, trying not to look beyond to where her daughter lay in a pool of blood.
Clay didn’t answer. He couldn’t; he couldn’t do anything. The thought of trying to move seemed exhausting, until Luciano’s writhing form caught his eye. He raised his head, noting that they hadn’t gotten him in the head like all the others. Instead they’d hit him in the gut, the blood seeping into his shirt as he gasped in pain.
Standing from Annie’s embrace, Clay picked up Luciano’s lost gun before he stood directly over the wounded man.
“Your sister’s waiting for you,” he muttered, before firing into his face, still squeezing the trigger long after the clip had been emptied.
Annie came up beside him, gently lowering his arm, taking the gun from him. Clay turned to face her; she could see the tears making his face glisten, even in the dim shadows. Unable to hold back her own feelings anymore, she fell into his embrace, sobbing against his chest. He held her loosely, numb, shocked, and silent, barely aware that she was there.
It should have been me, was the only thought running through his mind. It was supposed to be me.
_______
A month had passed since Annie and Clay had buried Dani in her favorite dress on a gray morning. Since then, Clay had barely spoken, spending his days shut in his study with a bottle of scotch. He’d tried to sleep the first week, but after laying in bed staring at the ceiling, or getting up to stare at Dani’s empty bed, he gave up on that too. Annie did her best to make sure he ate, but more often than not, ended up collecting the mostly uneaten food from his desk at the end of the day.
Every day, Arthur called to check on him, and every day, Annie had told him the same thing.
“Not yet.”
Finally, Arthur had come to the house in person. Annie let him in, relieved to see a familiar face. She led him down the hallway to the study, knocking gently as she opened the door.
“Clay,” she said softly, poking her head. “Honey, Arthur’s here. He needs to talk to you.”
Sitting with his back to the door, balancing a glass of scotch on the armrest of his chair as he stared out the window, Clay just waved for Arthur to come in.
“You probably know why I’m here,” Arthur said, standing just inside the door. “It’s been a month. The President needs to know if you’re coming back, or -”
“The job’s yours, Arthur,” Clay said shortly, still staring out the window. “Close the door on your way out.”
Without another word, Arthur left the room, closing the door behind him. He took a moment to look at Annie, both of them shocked but not surprised at Clay’s choice.
“He’s really giving it up,” Arthur said softly. “I always thought they’d have to pry that desk from his cold, dead hands.”
“I know,” Annie said, looking sadly at the door before returning her gaze to Arthur. “But could you really go back, if it’d been you?”
Once he’d heard Annie’s and Arthur’s voices retreat back down the hallway, Clay turned his chair away from the window. He finished the scotch that was in his glass before filling it again, standing from the chair to walk across the room. There in the corner was a small, low wooden table, painted a light lavender with child-sized chairs to match, and set for afternoon tea. There was a stuffed animal in three of the chairs, but the fourth was empty.
The fourth was where Dani had sat.
His face grim, Clay sat on the floor next to the empty chair, just as he had countless times before, sipping imaginary tea with his daughter on sunny afternoons. He hadn’t cared about his suits being wrinkled, or if the Secretary of State was waiting downstairs. Tea parties with his daughter were sacred moments, the ones he had treasured most.
Now he simply stared in silence at where she should have been sitting, remembering her laugh, as he finished off another bottle of scotch.
__________________________________
Sidwell Friends had a reputation for keeping the children of diplomats, cabinet members, and presidents safe. As the daughter of the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, young Danielle Webb was no exception. Every day she was met by her bodyguard and driven home in an unmarked car. The teachers and staff knew both men, and knew not to let anyone else - with the exception of her parents - take her home. Even then, her driver had to present an ID to get onto the grounds, and the bodyguard had to show his to check her out at the end of he day.
Luckily for Dani, she wasn’t the only kid with a security detail. In her first grade class alone, there were eight other “high profiles” who went through the same rigorous steps at the end of the day. So it didn’t bother her that it took fifteen minutes to get through the front gates. Instead she skipped down the hallways, one arm swinging her lunchbox to and fro, until she reached the front doors. There she waved to Taylor, her bodyguard; like Rich, the driver, he was CIA trained, and like many of the other men waiting outside, he carried a 9mm under his suit jacket.
“Hey there, Dani,” Taylor said, greeting the girl with a wave. “Have a good day?”
“Yup,” Dani answered, hooking her thumbs around her backpack straps. “We learned about sharks.”
“Did you now?” he chuckled, showing his ID to the security guard.
“Yeah,” she said, excited to show off her newly acquired smarts. “Did you know if a shark stops swimming, it dies?”
“I had no idea,” Taylor answered, playing along as he escorted her to the waiting town car.
“It’s true,” Dani assured him, nodding her head emphatically as she climbed into the back, putting on her seat belt. “And they have a hundred million teeth!”
“I’m sure they do,” Taylor laughed, sitting next to her.
The drive home was filled with more of Dani’s stories about sharks, some true, most exaggerated. Taylor and Rich indulged her, asking questions about how many species of sharks there were, and how to avoid them. It was a normal day, the same as any day before, until they turned off the main road.
Taylor saw it first, the black car cutting across in front of them, its windows rolled down despite the February chill. He yelled out a warning to Rich, but it was too late; the cars collided, the front of the town car smashing into the side of the car in front of them. Immediately, Taylor undid Dani’s seat belt and told her to stay down before unbuckling himself. Rich was already out of the car, gun drawn, but in a matter of seconds he was down, blood seeping through his shirt onto the pavement. Taylor opened his door, crouching behind it for cover as he fired on the car. He didn’t realize until it was too late that a van had rolled up behind them.
The sound of a silencer round was the last thing he heard, along with Dani’s frightened scream.
_______
At the house, Annie was absorbed in planning the upcoming charity fundraiser at the country club. She had spent the better part of the afternoon on the phone, trying to work out the seating chart and menu. It was almost 4:30 when she finally hung up the phone with an exhausted sigh, resting her head on the kitchen counter for a moment. That was when she realized that the house was quiet.
“Dani?” she called out, walking toward the entryway so her voice would echo further. “Honey, are you home?”
When she was greeted by silence, she quickly looked into the living room and dining room, then upstairs. With no sign of her daughter, she pulled out her phone, dialing Rich first, then Taylor. When both went voicemail, she took a deep breath and called her husband, trying to keep her hands from shaking.
“Director Webb’s office,” answered his secretary, her bright tone grating on Annie’s nerves.
“It’s Annie,” she said quickly. “I need to speak to my husband.”
“One moment.” There was the click of the line being placed on hold, followed by an agonizing silence before he picked up.
“Webb,” Clay finally answered.
“She’s not home yet,” Annie blurted out. She could practically hear him go tense on the other end.
“Dani?” he said stiffly.
“Yes,” Annie said, trying not to let her rising panic come through. “I was on the phone with the club, I must have lost track of time, because I just realized they weren’t here -”
“It’ll be okay,” Clay said, also trying his best to stay calm. “I’m sure they just stopped for ice cream.”
“They aren’t answering,” she said, her mind racing through all the possibilities of what could have happened.
“I’ll send a team,” he told her, “and I’ll meet you at home.”
With that he hung up, pulling up the location of the car as he dialed the detail he had on call in case of such an emergency. Giving them the coordinates, he shut down his computer and walked briskly out of his office, without an explanation to his bewildered secretary.
Clay had never been more grateful for a high performance car than as he raced home, ignoring any posted speed limit markers. As he made his way up the drive to the house his phone rang, the number displaying the name of the team leader he’d dispatched.
“Sir, we’ve found the vehicle,” the man told him shortly. “Faris and Potter are dead.”
“And my daughter?” Clay held his breath.
“No sign of her, sir,” the agent said. “No sign that she was injured, either.”
“So, it’s a kidnapping,” he sighed wearily as he parked the car in front of the house.
“Looks that way, sir.”
“Canvas the area,” Clay directed, throwing open the front door before striding in. “Someone had to see something.”
Then he hung up, his eyes meeting Annie’s across the foyer. For a long moment, they stood in shocked silence. They had known this day could be a possibility, but they had always hoped it would never come to be. Tears glistened in Annie’s eyes, her face drawn. Clay opened his mouth to tell her what the team had told him, but before he could, the brassy ring of the house phone echoed ominously through the house.
Immediately, Clay picked up the line in the entryway. Annie ran to the kitchen to silently pick up another line, habit kicking in.
“Hello?” Clay’s voice was firm, even though she knew he was shaken.
“Agent Webb,” came a voice. It was smooth, heavily accented; within moments, they had both identified it as Italian.
“It’s Director Webb,” Clay corrected sternly. “Who is this?”
“Ah ah ah,” the man said. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Do you have my daughter?”
“I do, I do.” In the kitchen, Annie was already plotting ways to wipe the smirk off the man’s face.
“Let me talk to her,” Clay demanded. “Let me know she’s okay.”
There was a short pause, the rustle of the phone being put on speaker.
“Daddy?” Dani’s voice was distant, frightened. Both her parents had to fight the urge to cry.
“I’m here, sweetheart,” Clay said, his voice tight. “Are you alright?”
“I’m scared, Daddy. They hurt Taylor and Rich and it’s dark here -”
“That’s enough, I think,” her captor interrupted. “Now, I have an offer for you.”
“Whatever you want, I’ll pay it,” Clay said, his teeth gritted. “Just don’t hurt my baby girl.”
“I’ll set her free,” the man said. “But only if you take her place.”
Annie inhaled sharply, running out of the kitchen. She knew her husband, knew how much he loved their daughter. Knew she had to stop him before he made a mistake. But she was too late. As she stopped in the foyer, their eyes met.
“I’ll do it,” Clay said, knowing that Annie was going to throw a fit. He listened as the captor gave instructions for the meet; alone, in an industrial area outside of Baltimore. Three hours. Then the line disconnected. He called in a trace before staggering into the living room, sinking down onto the couch, his head in his hands. Annie sat next to him, silent, her hand resting gently on his shoulder.
After a long moment, he sat up with a sigh.
“I have to call Arthur,” he said, digging through his pockets for his cell phone.
Annie nodded, going back to the kitchen to make some tea. Once the initial panic had subsided, she found herself oddly calm, grateful that at least one of them was thinking clearly. She decided to wait before tearing her husband a new one for making a move as stupid as offering himself up to people they knew nothing about.
After all, she probably would have done the same thing.
_______
An hour later, Arthur was standing in the living room with a Company attorney. A handful of papers were laid out in front of Webb on the coffee table.
“You’re sure you want to do this,” Arthur said, less a question of concern than a formality.
“I have to,” Clay answered somberly. “As important as she is to me, I can’t let one little girl jeopardize the safety and security of the nation.”
“Alright, then,” Arthur sighed, nodding at the attorney. She talked Clay through the signatures and initials; a minute later, she was handing the stack of papers to Arthur.
“It’s all in order,” she said. “Until further notice, you are the acting Director of the Central Intelligence Agency.”
He looked them over, double checking that everything was done right. Then he handed the papers back to the stern-looking woman, who slipped them into her briefcase and left without another word. Annie watched from where she had been standing, behind the couch, her arms alternately folded across her chest and resting on her husband’s shoulders. She could swear his hair had gone grayer in the hour since they’d gotten the call.
“We’re going to get her back,” Arthur assured them, taking a seat in the armchair nearest Clay’s seat on the couch. “And here’s how.”
It was straightforward. A team was already scouting the area, setting up snipers on the rooftops, quietly closing down street access. Clay would go in alone, as far as the kidnappers could tell, but with a ground team monitoring his every move. Once he was in, they would move in, taking out the captors and rescuing Dani in one swoop. Bad guys getting out alive was far from being a top priority.
“Who’s leading the team?” Annie asked, running through possibilities in her mind.
“You are,” Arthur answered simply. “I know you’ll make sure it goes right.”
In spite of the situation, Annie smiled a little. She had missed being active in the field, knowing it was something you couldn’t give up, not really.
“Get ready,” he said. “We leave in ten.”
_______
A few minutes before the scheduled time, Clay was parked outside the industrial park, praying that everything would go according to plan. Annie sat in the front seat, holding his hand, already in her flak vest. She was devastated to see him so haggard, so tired, so... old. Dani was the light of his life, and as much as she loved her, Annie knew that Clay loved her more. So she swallowed her own panic, doing her best to stay strong for the man who’d kept her sane and alive all these years.
“This’ll be a walk in the park,” she told him gently. “In, out, done. She’ll be home in time for bedtime stories.”
Clay just nodded absently, staring out through the windshield at the maze of warehouses lying ahead. His eyes closed for a moment as Annie’s hand rested against his cheek, tenderly directing his gaze toward her. After a long moment, he laid his hand over hers, pulling it away from his face.
“She’s in there somewhere,” he said quietly. “They’ve got her tied up somewhere in the dark. She’s terrified - God, she sounded so scared...”
“But she knows you’re coming for her,” Annie said, trying her best to console him. “We’ll have to live with her sleeping in our bed for the next few months, but it’ll be worth it.”
There was a knock at the window, an agent signaling them it was almost time. Annie nodded her acknowledgment, then turned back to her husband.
“We’re getting her back,” she said one last time, giving him a quick kiss. “Just remember that.”
Then she opened the car door and got out, closing it softly behind her. She waited behind the car until she heard the engine rev to life, the brake lights glowing as Clay slowly coasted forward into the dark. Once he’d turned the corner, she retreated to the tactical van, checking her weapons along with the rest of the team.
Satisfied that they were ready, they moved silently forward into the complex.
Clay had found warehouse 19 with ease, parking the car before getting out. It was freezing, and for a moment he regretted not wearing an overcoat as the wind picked up from the nearby harbor. He looked around, staring into the shadows in an attempt to see his adversary. That was when the two men grabbed him from behind, throwing a black bag over his head as they quickly patted him down, tossing his watch and cell phone. Then he was shoved into a van; counting the turns, he figured they hadn’t left the complex, which meant he could be easily found again. The van squeaked to a halt, the men roughly pushing him out before taking hold of his arms, leading him into a new warehouse.
When the bag was removed, he was standing in front of a tall, thin man dressed a little too well to be standing in a mostly empty warehouse in Baltimore.
“Director Webb,” he said brightly. “So glad you could join us.”
Instantly, Clay recognized his voice as the man he’d spoken to on the phone.
“Where’s my daughter?” he demanded, forceful but calm.
“All in good time,” the man answered with a grin.
“Look, you have what you want,” Clay said. “You want a bargaining chip the United States government will actually pay attention to? It’s me.”
Which was a lie; he’d signed the position over to Arthur for a reason. Director or not, in the end he knew that he was just as expendable as the next guy. But he kept his face unreadable, trying his best to think of this as just another op.
“You think this is about money?” the man laughed.
“I think if you’re targeting me, it’s about information,” Clay answered flatly. “You would’ve kidnapped a millionaire’s kid if it was about money.”
“You think you’re so smart,” the man said, his expression darkening. He walked up to Clay until they were nose to nose. “You have no idea what this is about.”
Then with a flourish of his arms, his backed away.
“This,” he said, with a hint of glee, “is about revenge. Payback. Karma.”
On cue, another pair of men emerged from behind a stack of boxes, Dani struggling between them. Clay’s heart skipped a beat, relieved to see her still alive, but suddenly terrified of what their captors had planned.
“You don’t know who I am,” the man said, “so let me introduce myself. My name is Luciano Marcello.”
Marcello... the name rang familiar to Clay, but he couldn’t quite place it.
“Perhaps you remember my sister better. Teresa?” The smile instantly disappeared from Luciano’s face. “You killed her.”
Clay inhaled sharply. It had been years since he’d even thought about her, now just a footnote in the non-redacted version of his personal file.
“I’m sorry,” he said solemnly, keeping his gaze on Dani. “But you’ve got me now, you can do whatever you want.”
“Oh, I plan to,” Luciano said, pulling a pistol from his waistband. He aimed it at Clay’s head with a wicked grin. “I’m going to make you suffer for what you’ve done.”
“First let my daughter go,” Clay insisted. “That was the agreement.”
“No no no,” Luciano said, shaking his head with a slight chuckle. “You misunderstood me. I said I’d set her free, not let her go.”
It happened in an instant, so fast that at first, Clay thought it hadn’t happened at all. His stomach clenched in dread as he watched Luciano swing the gun from his head down to Dani’s. The shot rang out with a deafening crack, echoing around the building as the guards let go of her limp body. Clay watched in horror as she slumped to the floor, fighting against the two men holding him, not even realizing that he was screaming as tears rolled down his cheeks.
With a sadistically satisfied grin, Luciano once again approached him, gripping Clay’s chin to force him to look.
“I told you I was going to make you suffer,” he muttered. “Just the same as I have suffered every day without Teresa.”
Then he let go, watching as Clay’s head hung in defeat, the guards letting him sink to his knees. Clay braced himself with his hands to stay upright, unable to look up at his daughter’s body a few feet away. That was when he heard the muffled sound of glass breaking, the soft thuds of the men beside him hitting the floor as snipers on the roof next door took them out. The door behind him broke in and the sound of combat boots hitting the cold concrete floor made him miss the sound of Luciano falling the ground, gun scattering out of his hand. He looked up just in time to see Annie expertly take out the two men across the warehouse who were reaching for their guns. Then she dropped to her knees.
“Are you okay?” she asked, trying not to look beyond to where her daughter lay in a pool of blood.
Clay didn’t answer. He couldn’t; he couldn’t do anything. The thought of trying to move seemed exhausting, until Luciano’s writhing form caught his eye. He raised his head, noting that they hadn’t gotten him in the head like all the others. Instead they’d hit him in the gut, the blood seeping into his shirt as he gasped in pain.
Standing from Annie’s embrace, Clay picked up Luciano’s lost gun before he stood directly over the wounded man.
“Your sister’s waiting for you,” he muttered, before firing into his face, still squeezing the trigger long after the clip had been emptied.
Annie came up beside him, gently lowering his arm, taking the gun from him. Clay turned to face her; she could see the tears making his face glisten, even in the dim shadows. Unable to hold back her own feelings anymore, she fell into his embrace, sobbing against his chest. He held her loosely, numb, shocked, and silent, barely aware that she was there.
It should have been me, was the only thought running through his mind. It was supposed to be me.
_______
A month had passed since Annie and Clay had buried Dani in her favorite dress on a gray morning. Since then, Clay had barely spoken, spending his days shut in his study with a bottle of scotch. He’d tried to sleep the first week, but after laying in bed staring at the ceiling, or getting up to stare at Dani’s empty bed, he gave up on that too. Annie did her best to make sure he ate, but more often than not, ended up collecting the mostly uneaten food from his desk at the end of the day.
Every day, Arthur called to check on him, and every day, Annie had told him the same thing.
“Not yet.”
Finally, Arthur had come to the house in person. Annie let him in, relieved to see a familiar face. She led him down the hallway to the study, knocking gently as she opened the door.
“Clay,” she said softly, poking her head. “Honey, Arthur’s here. He needs to talk to you.”
Sitting with his back to the door, balancing a glass of scotch on the armrest of his chair as he stared out the window, Clay just waved for Arthur to come in.
“You probably know why I’m here,” Arthur said, standing just inside the door. “It’s been a month. The President needs to know if you’re coming back, or -”
“The job’s yours, Arthur,” Clay said shortly, still staring out the window. “Close the door on your way out.”
Without another word, Arthur left the room, closing the door behind him. He took a moment to look at Annie, both of them shocked but not surprised at Clay’s choice.
“He’s really giving it up,” Arthur said softly. “I always thought they’d have to pry that desk from his cold, dead hands.”
“I know,” Annie said, looking sadly at the door before returning her gaze to Arthur. “But could you really go back, if it’d been you?”
Once he’d heard Annie’s and Arthur’s voices retreat back down the hallway, Clay turned his chair away from the window. He finished the scotch that was in his glass before filling it again, standing from the chair to walk across the room. There in the corner was a small, low wooden table, painted a light lavender with child-sized chairs to match, and set for afternoon tea. There was a stuffed animal in three of the chairs, but the fourth was empty.
The fourth was where Dani had sat.
His face grim, Clay sat on the floor next to the empty chair, just as he had countless times before, sipping imaginary tea with his daughter on sunny afternoons. He hadn’t cared about his suits being wrinkled, or if the Secretary of State was waiting downstairs. Tea parties with his daughter were sacred moments, the ones he had treasured most.
Now he simply stared in silence at where she should have been sitting, remembering her laugh, as he finished off another bottle of scotch.