She occupied this room from 1995 through 1998, not constantly. But on and off while she finished the University of Virginia, working for the FBI’s Engineering Research Facility (ERF) almost the entire time. Quantico was her home away from home. Carrie Grethen was her mentor. The FBI placed the niece I raised like a daughter into a psychopathic monster’s care, and that decision changed the course of our lives. It has changed absolutely everything.

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

CARRIE WALKS INTO THE ROOM, A SUBMACHINE GUN slung over her shoulder. The Heckler & Koch flat against her waist is an MP5K. K is for kurz, German for short.

The machine gun is designed to fit into a firing briefcase, and familiarity touches the back of my brain. I know this gun. I’ve seen it somewhere. I feel my chest tighten as Carrie leans close to a camera, stares directly into it with wide eyes as cold and bright as a winter sky. Her hair is a bleached silver buzz cut, her narrow fine-featured face compelling the way a machete is, and her tank top, gym shorts, shoes and socks are solid white.

In 1997 she was in her midtwenties although I wasn’t sure of her age at the time. She could pass for much older or younger or ageless or ancient with her lean hard body and blue eyes that rapidly change shadings like a volatile ocean as her dangerous moods shift. She is very pale, as if the sun has never touched her. Her white skin seems to glow like a lampshade, contrasting sharply with the black sling loop around her neck, with the stubby black weapon that is close to the camera now.

An early model with a wooden foregrip, probably manufactured in the 1980s, possibly earlier but I’m uncertain why I know that. I can see the three modes of fire stamped in white over the thumb area. E for semiautomatic mode. F for full auto. The selector is set on S for safe. I know this gun somehow dammit. Where did I see it?

“Greetings from the past.” Carrie’s eyes are deep blue as she smiles, resting a forearm on the machine gun’s receiver. “But you know what they say. The past is never over. It isn’t even past. If you’re viewing my cinematic masterpiece then congratulations are in order. You’re still on this earth, Chief.” The way she says chief sounds odd, possibly edited. “What you should conclude from that is I don’t want you gone yet. Or you would be.