They had been driving for around half an hour, and Kate had not spoken yet. Diego was getting restless, and a tiny part of him was telling him this was wrong. There was some part of the puzzle that he hadn't yet assembled.
Kate pulled up a few minutes later in front of an apartment complex, and switched off the ignition. She turned to Diego, and started talking, the words pouring out.
"The reason you haven't found anything about Daniel Westenra is because he doesn't exist anymore. But Steenkamp didn't kill him. You see, Johann Steenkamp is Daniel Westenra. One and the same."
Diego felt like someone had punched him in the gut. Kate continued to speak.
"When I told you I left the agency because I killed a child, I was not entirely truthful. Of course that was a factor, but the real reason I left was because Johann Steenkamp was my operative. He worked on his own, but always reported to me at the end of every mission."
Diego's anger was bubbling to the surface, but his curiosity was greater.
"So what happened?"
"He went rogue. Sometime in early 2014. He stopped responding to my calls and texts. Became a ghost. For a year. Then we started hearing about bombings and killings across Europe. I don't know why, but I knew it was him. And finally, a month back, he was seen on security camera footage. Back here, in the States."
"So that's why Sophie wanted you to help?"
"Yes. I was livid with myself for not seeing it before. So I left and spent the last 3 years going through all his missions, trying to find any clues as to his pattern and behavior."
"Did you find anything?"
"This is someone who's been on the run for half a decade. A man who's afraid of his own shadow. Who will fire his gun out of pure instinct even if he suspects he's in danger. What does that tell you?"
"He's paranoid and distrustful, and completely desensitized to killing."
"Precisely. When you go for your meeting, always sit at an angle to him. Carry a standard issue firearm. Nothing fancy. He will be watching you like a hawk. One wrong move, anything at all, and he will see you for what you really are."
"To be honest Kate, I am scared shitless."
"Good. I would have been worried if you weren't. Scared means you will be on your guard."
"We are just going to gloss over the fact that you lied to me from the second we met?"
"Of course not. We will talk about it. Just not today."
Tonight, the rain falls Like acid, from a heaven That is learning to Love its scars, a sky That is trying to Shake off the blood From the edges Of the clouds.
On a street, which houses A million silent footsteps The rain tumbles down Like silver pinpricks And the lightning pours From a starless horizon Coating the granite pavement In a dull, yet brilliant glow.
We try to lose ourselves In this young city Of a thousand deaths Where every alleyway And every razed monument Is an insignia to Our torched childhood.
Could we walk away From these shadows That have birthed and Sheltered countless sins Could we throw an arrow And trust that it falls Outside the gates Of the citadel Can we outrun The fires before the Ashes whisk us away?
I have often been told That I look a lot like My father, but that I have my mother's eyes (Harry Potter anyone?) I am almost certain that I got my love for reading From my mum, who always Read (and still reads) late Into the night, and my Love for sports from my dad Who used to follow match updates The nights before his final exams.
I have often been told I have a quiet disposition Rarely flustered and mostly smiling Similar to my dad, except for Those moments when we Both explode with volcanic rage Unlike my mum who's often On the edge of her emotions Lashing out at the smallest Things, before calming down Just as quickly on her own.
I am often torn with indecision If I am like my mum Who often forgives but never forgets Or if I am like dad Who often forgets but never forgives Though I guess I tend To lean towards mum In this particular scenario.
There are times when I am Told that the way I carry myself And the things I do is exactly What my mum or dad would have Done, and at other times I do things so differently That they can't help but think If the apple fell too far from the tree.