The Bellator Saga: The First Trilogy (Dissident, Conscience, and Sojourn) Read online

  He’d heard stories, but nothing concrete. And he was still too low on the food chain to be privy to any major state secrets. But he knew what happened to people who were sent there. They went in, and they didn’t come out.

  “Is she cognizant of anything that’s going on?” he asked.

  “Probably not,” Savage said. “That’s why we gave her the drugs. If you want her to recover well enough for you to be able to speak with her, you’re going to want her unaware of her surroundings for now.”

  “Thank you,” Mitchell said, and walked out the door.

  * * * * *

  Savage turned to Livingston after Mitchell had left. “I thought we doped her up pretty well. I’d prefer she be in a nice little state of dreamland for the time being. She doesn’t know what’s going on, does she?”

  Livingston rubbed his temples. “I find that highly unlikely. We probably gave her more than we should. I thought-”

  He stopped and looked around, listening, making sure they were still the only two people in the area. “I thought it was best for her. I can’t even imagine what they have in store for her once she’s well enough to be transferred.”

  Dr. Savage turned to the wall, hugging herself. “What the hell is going on in this country right now, Bill? California has seceded. Congress is a shambles. Who knows what’s going to happen to us. And I never would have thought that the American military would treat a former-”

  Bill heard footsteps coming down the hall and put his finger to his lips, shaking his head. Maureen nodded back at him.

  “It’s probably time to get back to work,” she said loudly.

  “Indeed,” Dr. Livingston agreed. He lowered his voice. “Make sure she’s safe, Maureen. We have so little control over anything anymore, and neither does she. We may as well protect her for as long as we can. Let’s give her that.”

  Chapter Two

  Caroline

  More than five years earlier, New Year’s Eve

  “I can’t believe I have to wear this terrible piece of clothing,” Caroline said, pulling up the sleeves on a sweater that was three sizes too big for her.

  Tom Sullivan looked pleased with himself. “You make fun of the sweater, you wear the sweater the next year. You know the rule.”

  “I didn’t make fun of it last year.”

  “‘That thing looks like Picasso vomited on a Monet then sewed a bunch of random Jo-Ann Fabric patterns on it,’” he quoted.

  “That wasn’t a joke. It was the truth,” she groused.

  Tom laughed. “Chrissy loves it as much as you do.”

  Caroline’s daughter Marguerite came bounding into the room, grabbing a handful of Cheetos from one of the bowls on the snack table. “Wow, mom. That sweater sucks.”

  The blunt wisdom of a far too mature ten year old who spent way too much time repeating her mother’s colorful language. “Thanks, Mo. Where’s Sophie?”

  Marguerite shoved the Cheetos into her mouth. “I don’t know. Jess said she was going to make her a whiskey sour.”

  “Jess was kidding.”

  “So you say.”

  “So I know.” Caroline looked at her watch. “It’s almost time for you two to go to bed.”

  Marguerite’s face fell. “Just a little bit longer? Please?”

  It had been hard not to indulge them during the past year, and Caroline’s resolve broke easily. “Eleven. That’s it.”

  “No midnight?”

  “No midnight. Pretend you live in Nova Scotia and it’s already the New Year by then. Go hang out with your sister for a while.”

  “Okay.” Marguerite skipped away.

  Tom, who had witnessed the exchange, grinned. “It’s those moments that make you hope she’s not going to go to law school, right? She barely pushed that one at all.”

  Caroline laughed. Her loyalty to Notre Dame Law School was one of the reasons Tom liked her so much.

  “Between the two of us and our disturbing passion for Our Lady’s university, it might be damn near impossible to keep her away from South Bend.” She looked over his shoulder and saw a late arrival she hadn’t noticed before. “You invited Bob?”

  Tom kept grinning. “What with Christine considering moving up to the Senate next term, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to have the Speaker of the House here.”

  An interesting choice. Christine Sullivan and Robert Allen didn’t exactly get along all the time. Caroline barely contained her surprise. “Breaking her own ‘no Washington people, except for Caroline and her family’ rule?”

  “Apparently so.”

  “That woman will do anything for an endorsement.”

  “Would you endorse her?”

  “If she wants me to. You know how much I love bridging the partisan divide.” She looked down at her now-empty glass. “Do you think John McIntyre will show up?”

  Tom’s grin disappeared as he took the glass from her. “I have no idea. Chrissy only met him once during the election and I’m not sure he was very enamored with her. But maybe.” The smile returned. “I know you wanted him to come.”

  “Well, it’s not that I want him to come, I just….” She wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted anymore.

  Caroline had suffered through a pretty terrible year and was eager for it to be over. She had first been elected to Congress four years prior, riding a wave of anti-incumbent fervor that many people hoped would invigorate the country and get people more engaged in the process. Which, peculiarly enough, the pundits seemed to say every two years. She ran as a moderate to liberal Democrat in a solidly blue district in the Maryland suburbs outside the District of Columbia, and voters responded to her earnest style and quirky sense of humor.

  She was a decent looking woman in her mid-thirties with brown eyes, auburn hair, and a relatively okay figure that required constant exercise because of two pregnancies and her weakness for all sorts of yummy foods (particularly deep dish pizza and chocolate). But her personality and charm coupled with her professional background made her an appealing upstart candidate. Her husband Nick hadn’t been all that thrilled about her blossoming political career, but she’d dedicated her life to public service and he knew that one day she’d want to make the leap.

  Her first three years in office solidified her as a reasonable politician who could be counted on to reflect the common sense of the people of her district, if not the rest of the country. She didn’t take radical positions, listened to the other side, introduced bipartisan legislation, formed coalitions, and never disrespected her colleagues. That was probably why she’d collected a small but diverse group of friends in the House from both parties, including Tom’s wife Christine, a woman most would describe as a tough but open-minded Catholic conservative.

  Tom and Caroline hit it off at a House Freshman mixer after she noticed the Notre Dame Monogram Club pin he’d been wearing. He’d played linebacker for the Irish then gone on to medical school at UPenn where he met Christine. Caroline always joked that he was the best man she knew aside from Nicky because he’d overcome the odds and put his feelings aside to marry a Wolverine who bled maize and blue.

  Tom and Nicky connected over their love of beer and other random rural Midwestern guy things, and Caroline was glad that Christine, who was frosty at first, finally warmed up to her. She was still fairly certain that Chrissy thought she’d been flirting with Tom before she came over to join the conversation with them the night they met. This was despite the fact that Nicky was standing next to the two of them the entire time. Christine was naturally suspicious.

  But over the past year it had all fallen apart. Nicky was killed in an accident in late January. He was on his way to a meeting in Baltimore when he lost control of his car on some black ice on I-95. Caroline pleaded with him to take the commuter train that morning but he hated abiding by someone else’s schedule. Their daughters took it extremely hard. They’d been close to their daddy. Caroline needed two Clonazepam to get through the funeral. It had not been pretty.

&
nbsp; Tom and Christine had been wonderful friends and confidants, keeping her from tumbling over the edge. Christine sublet her Capitol Hill apartment and moved in with Caroline and the girls, despite the often painful commute from Rockville to downtown D.C. Tom had driven down for every daddy/daughter event at school so that Marguerite and Sophie could still try to enjoy them. The Sullivans were Caroline’s rock, her anchor, her surrogate family. And they knew how much that meant to her.

  She had been drifting in a sea of anger and despair for most of the year, clinging to whatever she could in order to continue to function and take care of her girls. She’d seriously considered resigning her seat and going back to work as a federal prosecutor but she knew that would mean less money and much less flexibility.

  It was also highly unlikely that a change in employment would help her emerge from her emotional quagmire. She battled on, her bitterness fueling her. Her tone sharpened and her desire for compromise seemed less important. Shockingly, the Democratic nominee, now the President-elect, made her the keynote speaker at that year’s convention anyway.

  She gave what political commentators described as a glorious, career-altering performance, but she didn’t remember a word of it. It was stuck in the back of her mind, filed away. She could retrieve it if she wanted to, but she still hadn’t. Her chief of staff Jen told her later that she hadn’t used the teleprompter at all, that she’d changed the course of her speech several times without missing a beat. Her press secretary and speechwriter Kathleen jokingly threatened to quit, saying it was obvious she was no longer needed.

  Caroline still couldn’t figure out how she’d done it and had no desire to ever watch it. The memory of her daughters walking on stage to join her afterward without Nicky was too much to bear. He would have loved to revel in that moment with them, despite his disdain for politics. And the positive vibe that surrounded her after the speech did nothing but make her more unhappy.

  So when candidates started asking the keynote speaker for an endorsement after the convention, they got it. Caroline would stand up next to them in gyms or union halls, and say horrible, awful things about their opponents. She’d only done it a few times before Christine took her aside and talked some sense into her, telling her that she was destroying herself by behaving so incredibly out of character.

  There was one endorsement she regretted the most – her criticism of Representative-elect John McIntyre. A former Villanova basketball player and Wharton MBA who’d made himself extraordinarily wealthy through a series of land deals, corporate investments, hostile takeovers, and startups, he’d run for Congress in the suburban Philadelphia district adjoining Christine’s. His Democratic opponent was a complete ass, but Caroline didn’t discover that until after she had stood up and given the jerk her support in front of a packed American Legion post. McIntyre won narrowly, no thanks to her behavior, which had probably done more damage to his campaign than anything else.

  Caroline had begged Christine to invite him to her New Year’s party. She didn’t want to apologize on the floor of the House. She wanted to do it in person, in an informal setting. Maybe that made her a coward, since forcing him to come to the Sullivans’ house was probably far more intimidating to him than the marble floors of the U.S. Capitol. But Caroline wanted to make it right. It had taken a lot of effort; Christine’s New Year’s party was not intended for political players. She didn’t even invite her own staffers. Caroline and Nicky received yearly invites only because they were practically family.

  Caroline and her daughters had readily accepted Christine’s invitation to spend the holidays with them that year in the Sullivans’ sprawling home in Bryn Mawr. Like Christine, Caroline was an only child, and both of her parents were dead. She dreaded the prospect of the three of them spending Christmas in Rockville alone and was grateful that Tom and Christine had made them feel so welcome. Tom’s extended family was large and rather boisterous.

  Christine was a bit older than her and gave birth to her first child relatively young, while she was still in medical school. Her oldest daughter, Susannah, a corporate attorney, was therefore only about ten years younger than Caroline. Christine’s younger daughter, Jessica, was in her senior year of high school and was headed to Lehigh on a basketball scholarship after she graduated. Jess adored Marguerite and Sophie. Caroline’s spirits rose during the week they all spent together, and the girls loved it too. But the days had gone by far too fast, and it was almost time to go back to the reality of their life at home in Maryland.

  Caroline glanced over Tom’s shoulder. “I’m going to go over and talk to Bob. You know how much he loves me.”

  Her tone was laconic but there was more than a grain of truth to the statement. The Speaker was an Illinois native like Caroline, and they’d both graduated from Marquette University, albeit decades apart. They had a nice bond despite their party differences.

  Tom laughed. “Go talk about how the MU basketball team is gonna wake up and destroy the competition come March.”

  Caroline crossed the room and was pleased to find that Bob brought his wife. Adeline Allen was a born and bred Southsider and her accent always reminded Caroline of childhood trips on the L to go to the Museum Campus or shopping at Marshall Field’s. Adeline spotted her first.

  “Caroline! Oh, I was hoping to see you.” She gave Caroline a warm hug and kiss on the cheek.

  Caroline spontaneously reached in for an additional hug. Adeline was one of her favorite people. “We’ve been here the whole week, actually. Heading back to Rockville tomorrow. Or the day after, depending on how much I drink tonight.” She’d already knocked back a few to gird herself, just in case.

  “How wonderful.” Adeline tugged on Caroline’s sleeve. “And what an interesting outfit you’re wearing.”

  Damn it. She was probably going to hear about that stupid sweater all night. “I lost a bet with Tom.” She turned to Bob and gave him as crisp a salute as she could manage. “O Captain, My Captain.”

  He gave her a hug. “Hi, sunshine. Have a good Christmas?”

  “As good as could be expected.” Caroline figured it didn’t hurt to be honest with him. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “Christine wants to butter me up a little before she asks for an endorsement when she decides to move up in the world. I decided to indulge her.”

  That was exactly what Christine wanted. “Are you knocking the lower house of which you are in charge?” Caroline asked.

  “No, Ms. Gerard, I am not.” He winked at her. “Merely its leadership.”

  She laughed. “Are you going straight to D.C. after this?”

  Bob took a sip from whatever mixed drink Tom had concocted for him. “It’s a little inconvenient to go back home. And I have a speech to revise.”

  “It’s not very good so far so he definitely needs the extra time,” Adeline quipped. “Plus, he has to practice banging his gavel in case any members of the Democratic leadership decide to get out of line.”

  Caroline pretended to look confused. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

  Bob saw a man walking past Caroline and seized his arm. “Mr. McIntyre, have you met Representative Gerard?”

  Caroline blushed. She really hadn’t planned to apologize to McIntyre while exchanging idle chitchat with the Speaker of the House. Then again, she wasn’t quite sure what the best scenario would have been for her to broach the subject.

  McIntyre turned to face the three of them. Caroline remembered watching footage of him during the campaign but he was much more striking in person. Sharp blue eyes, late forties, about six feet tall. He’d gone prematurely gray but his silver hair accentuated his handsome features. His appearance was a tad intimidating but he definitely had the capability to woo female voters and non-voters alike, if the rumors were to be believed. And those captivating eyes looked none too happy to see her.

  “No, we’ve never met,” he said coolly. “Although she seems to know me pretty well already.”

&nbs
p; Shit. He obviously hadn’t forgotten the campaign. Not that she expected him to, but she underestimated the depth of his anger. Bob was scrutinizing Caroline with concern, as he now realized his error.

  She gathered up her courage. “Bob, would you excuse us for a minute? I’d like to chat with Mr. McIntyre.”

  “Of course, sunshine.” He picked up a plate from the side table that contained a generous helping of leftover Christmas cookies and party snacks and kissed her on the cheek. “In case we don’t see each other again tonight,” he explained. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. Take care of yourself and give your girls a hug from me. Come on, Addie. Let’s go find Christine so she can pretend to like me.”

  Adeline gave Caroline another hug. “It’s always a joy, Caroline. I’m taking you out to lunch while I’m in Washington this week. Clear your calendar. Deep dish pizza, D.C. version?”

  Caroline smiled a tiny smile. Adeline knew she was very particular about her Chicago style pizza. “I shall ignore that wretched, heretical, downright disloyal comment because it is the holiday season.”

  “Damn right.” Adeline gave Caroline a quick squeeze on the arm before walking away.

  Caroline reminded herself to thank them later. Bob and Adeline had no doubt given her that warm goodbye for McIntyre’s benefit. She turned to him.

  “Mr. McIntyre,” she began. She had enough intuition to know that he was royally pissed, but probably refined enough to keep himself in check. Sure enough, he schooled his features before he interrupted her.

  “I’d tell you to call me by my first name but I’m not sure you deserve the privilege.”

  The haughty tone of a man accustomed to either getting his own way or bullying people into it. He stared at her for a moment, his jaw locked as if he assumed she’d not so gracefully excuse herself or clumsily back away. Both of which were not outside the realm of possibility.

  This was not starting well. Caroline rubbed the back of her neck apprehensively.