"What's the second?" she asked.
"The Gravediggers," he said. "That's what we are. We're strictly an intelligence strike force. When Eve told me she'd help me die and bring me back from the grave, she wasn't kidding. The Shadow helped stage my death. The body the CIA recovered was a match for dental and other key indicators.
"I had to disappear completely for a short time in case they weren't a hundred percent convinced of my death. And the safest place for me to go was underground. I was given a serum, like the one you saw me administer to Levi the other morning. It simulates death, and then we're buried in a special casket that has a limited supply of oxygen capabilities. We're then shipped to an undisclosed location and given a serum to bring us back from the dead, so to speak. We're given new lives and new missions, and as long as we serve Neptune we can live for real.
"Eve and The Directors scouted locations for a long time before they decided Last Stop was the perfect place for headquarters."
"Why?' she asked, hoarsely. "Why is it the perfect place?" Tess shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cool summer rain. She'd known somewhere in the recesses of her mind that she wasn't going to like whatever he told her.
"The setup was perfect. We're close enough to Dallas for there to be a legitimate reason for unusual aircraft to be in the area, and the funeral home provided the perfect cover for the bodies we'd be bringing in. The land in Last Stop was ideal. Almost every town around us is built on limestone, but Last Stop has a soft soil that can be easily excavated for different things. There's also a lot of land. We needed space, a funeral home, and a good location, with easy access to anywhere we needed to be if there was a terror strike. We can be anywhere in the country in a matter of a couple of hours.
"When we checked into Jessup's background and then yours, Eve knew you'd stay on if she bought him out. She didn't think you'd ever leave your grandmother, and she knew even though you weren't owner, that you'd like running the place as if it was your own. And then there's the fact that you're descended from Russian Mafiya."
Her eyes widened at that and a chill went down her spine. "So what? What does that have to do with anything at all?"
"Nothing that Eve's been able to find. And believe me, she's looked. She's always looking for ways she can use people. You serve a double purpose for her. You're a fixture in the community and have an established place in the funeral home. And you speak Russian. Not just Russian, but you speak Old Russian. It's like a lost language."
"Really?" she asked, genuinely surprised.
"You didn't know?"
"Why would I?" she countered. "I'm an American. It just so happens that my grandparents were Russian. I knew about their connection to the Mafiya, but I didn't realize there was a language difference. From what I understand, my grandmother's father was the head of the organization until his death. He married my grandmother off to his next in command when she was only sixteen, things started getting unstable in Russia, my great-grandfather died, and the whole Mafiya fell apart. My grandparents came to the United States and changed their name from Syomin to Sherman. Russian was the language they used at home. As far as I knew that was the only Russian there was. Why such a big interest in the Russians?"
"There are waves of terrorism," he said. "And for several years we've seen an uprising in attacks from Russia. Many times they don't take credit for it, so other terrorist organizations step up and claim responsibility. But Russia has been a sleeping giant for years. They've been patient, and their agents so ingrained in our country that it's almost impossible to distinguish them unless there are definite red flags."
She felt hollow inside. "I guess there's a reason you're telling me all this now. You tell me all of this and say flat out that Eve has had an interest in me and my family, and I'm just supposed to believe there's no coincidence that you finally decided to make your move. You must think me pretty pathetic. Poor Tess Sherman, with her gambling addict mother, colorful grandmother, and her ex-fiancé who decided to dump her in front of the entire town. Plain, boring Tess Sherman who wants to live in peace, so she lets people like George Jessup, Eve Winter, Deacon Tucker, and her own mother screw her over again and again." She dashed a tear from her cheek, hating that she mad enough to cry. "Dammit!" she said, getting to her feet. "I went through therapy so I could learn how to deal with stuff like this. You'd think after having your mother steal your life savings that it would be about the lowest point in a person's life. Yet I keep finding out other people can dig the hole deeper. This is why I prefer my own company most of the time. This is the perfect example of why I need to get the hell out of this town."