by Marcus Sakey
“Coop, I want to help, but…”
“I know. But remember how I said I wasn’t a DAR agent anymore? Well, are you? After seeing that? You’ve only got two choices, Bobby. You can pretend you don’t know that everything you’ve served is a lie. Or you can help me.”
It really was as simple as that, and Cooper made himself stop. All he’d wanted, back in the cemetery, was half an hour to make the man understand. Now he’d had it. There was no selling Quinn, no convincing him. No rhetorical flourish would make the difference, no appeal to emotion.
Either Bobby Quinn was a good man, or Cooper and his family were dead.
Quinn jammed the pads of his fingers into his eyes. “Shit.” His hands muffled the words. “So what do we do?”
“Well, to start”—Cooper smiled and tugged at his wrist—“do you think you could unlock me?”
His partner laughed. “Sorry.” He pulled the cuff key from his belt and tossed it over. “The truth shall set you free, right?”
“Something like that. That’s our play, too. We use the video to set a trap for Peters.”
“Sounds like you have a plan.”
“The beginnings of one.”
“Well, that’s a relief. Sure, we’re facing the most powerful covert organization on the planet, and in possession of stolen information that the president would nuke DC to keep private, but at least you have the beginnings of a plan. I was worried for a second.”
“Hey,” Cooper said, “the way I see it, the chance of success just doubled. Now it’s the whole government against two of us.”
“Three,” said a voice behind them.
They both whirled. Quinn went for his weapon, but Cooper caught his partner’s arm.
She stood with her hip popped, one hand leaning on the other side. A pose cocky and capable, her lips quirked in that sideways grin. “You left without saying good-bye, Nick. A girl might take that wrong.”
Quinn said, “Who the hell are you, and how did you get here?”
Cooper said, “Hello, Shannon.” She looked good. Damn good. He met her gaze, saw all the levels in it, strength, determination, and, beneath it, some hurt. He smiled in a way he hoped was apologetic, then said to Quinn, “She does that.” To Shannon, he said, “When did you get here?”
“About an hour after you.”
“Smith sent you?”
“No, asshole. I came because you need help. John just provided the plane.”
“How did you find me?”
“I didn’t. I found him.” She jerked a thumb at Quinn.
“You’re the girl from the Exchange,” Quinn said. “And the thing with Bryan Vasquez.”
“And you’re Cooper’s playmate.” She pulled out a stool and took a seat. “So. What are we doing, boys?”
Cooper said, “Bringing down the head of Equitable Services and the president of the United States.”
“Oh, good. I was afraid this was going to be dull.”
“I try to keep life interesting.”
“Any train rides planned?”
“If I tell you, it’ll spoil the surprise.”
“Don’t do that. I love surprises.”
“Time out.” Quinn looked back and forth, forth and back. “Would you two quit flirting long enough to tell me what the hell is going on?”
“Bobby, meet Shannon Azzi. The Girl Who Walks Through Walls.”
“Hiya,” she said, and stuck out a hand.
Looking baffled, Quinn took it.
Cooper laughed. For the first time since he’d heard Dickinson’s voice on the phone, he felt something like hope.
CHAPTER 38
“Jimmy’s Mattresses. ”
“This is account number three two zero nine one seven. I need to talk to Alpha.”
“Hold, please.”
The speaker of the disposable cell phone was tinny, but it would serve. They’d picked up a couple of them at a mini-mart en route to Quinn’s apartment, a single in a Mount Vernon Square low-rise. Cooper had been there more times than he could remember, knew the furniture and the layout, had crashed on the couch. Quinn stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the night sky; Shannon splayed in a chair, one lithe leg up on the arm.
“Hello, Nick.” Drew Peters sounded the same as ever. Calm, in control. The same as he’d sounded in the video, proposing the murder of innocent civilians. “Are you on your way in?”
“No.”
“I see.”
“I found the drive, Drew. Taped to the back of Teddy Eaton’s coffin. And I’ve watched it. A nasty little snuff film.”
“Omelets and eggs, Agent Cooper.”
“Just Cooper. I don’t work for you anymore.”
“As you like. You understand the situation, though, yes? Roger was clear in his explanation?”
“Very clear. But we’re not going to do it that way.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“An exchange. The drive for my family.”
“I don’t think so. The drive is worthless. You’ll have made copies by now.”
“No. I haven’t, and I won’t.”
A pause. “Why would I believe that?”
“Because you know that I know that even if this video got out, you could make sure that my family died. I mean even after you let them go. This would ruin you, but you’d still be able to act. Not all of your resources work for the DAR.”
Another pause. “That’s true.”
“So here’s the deal. We meet somewhere we both feel safe. You bring my family; I bring this. We all walk out. You get to go on running your evil empire. And my children get to grow up.”
“I’m not sure you’re in a position to negotiate. For now, your children are perfectly safe, as is your ex-wife. But Dickinson is a true believer. If I give the order, he won’t hesitate to visit a host of violations on them.”
Fire licked his belly and his knuckles went white, but Cooper kept his voice under control. “You’d suffer quite a few in prison, Drew, while your daughters grew up alone. And this posturing is pointless. We both know that you’ll do anything to get the video back. And I’ll do anything to know my family is safe. So let’s cut the bullshit.”
“All right. How about we meet at the Washington Monument? A public place.”
Cooper laughed. “Yeah. And I’ll never hear the shot from the airship. I don’t think so. No, let’s meet at the L’Enfant Plaza Metro station.”
“Where you can have a news crew at the ready to film everything. I’m afraid not.”
“Okay. We don’t trust one another. So we set it up so that neither of us has time to prepare a surprise. You name a major street downtown. I’ll pick an address. We’ll meet in twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes? No.”
“I’m not going to give you time to get set up, Drew.”
“I understand that. But I’m busy cleaning up your mess right now. There was a firefight in a cemetery in broad daylight. It will take time to make sure there’s no connection to the agency.”
“No connection to you, you mean.”
“Those are the same thing. Let’s meet in two hours.”
“Fine. But we don’t pick a location until the last minute. I’ll call you. Have a street in mind, and don’t mess with me. And if anyone in my family has so much as a bruise, deal’s off and I burn you down.”
“If you call this off, your family will suffer more than bruises.”
“So we both better behave. I’ll call in two hours. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“One last thing.”
“What’s that?”
Cooper said, “How the fuck do you sleep at night, Drew?”
“With a prescription. Grow up. This is the way the world works.” The director hung up the phone.
“Two hours.” Quinn shook his head. “Just like you predicted.”
“Peters is the head of Equitable Services and thinks like it. That makes him easy to anticipate. He wants enough time that he ca
n use his resources, see if he can track me down without the hassle of meeting. There’s always the chance that I screwed up, that someone caught my face on a camera, or that I was calling from a known phone number. A long shot, but worth checking, especially for a man with his own security force. But at the same time, he can’t risk giving me enough time that I start to second-guess myself, decide to go to the media with the video. One hour isn’t enough time, three is too long.”
“What’s to keep him from showing up at the meet with an army?”
“He knows I would spot them. He can’t risk spooking me. And since he won’t know the location in advance, he can’t get snipers set up or teams in place.”
“Still. He’s got to know he’s walking into a trap,” Shannon said.
Cooper shook his head. “That’s what we’ve got going for us. He thinks I’m working alone. He knows my capabilities, what advantages my gift offers. He can plan for that. Counter it.”
“So because he thinks you’re alone, he’ll bring a small force, just enough not to scare you. And because you’re not alone, you think we can take them.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Gee,” Quinn said. “It’s a good thing you’ve got two other assholes wrapped up in this.”
“Yeah,” Cooper said. He locked eyes with his partner, his friend. He knew what it was Quinn was risking, the same as the rest of them. But while Cooper had no choice, and Shannon had her own reasons, Quinn was doing this because it was the right thing to do. And because he’s your friend. Cooper fiddled with the edge of a cushion. Looked out the window. “Look, I want you to know—”
“Stow it,” Quinn said. “Just make sure you pick up the check from now on.”
“Beer’s on me. Forever.”
“You boys are adorable,” Shannon said. “But this is stupid. If Peters picks a street and you pick an address, we won’t be able to plan either. We’ll be walking in blind.”
“No, Ms. Mysterio,” Quinn said. “That’s where I come in.” He glanced at his watch. “Speaking of. I better go to headquarters and gear up. Gimme that burner. I’ll toss it in the river on the way.”
“Be careful, Bobby. They don’t know you’re in this, but Peters will be on high alert. No wrong moves.”
“I’ll be in and out. Hell”—Quinn smiled—“I’ll channel her.”
Two hours.
A hundred and twenty endless minutes to pace.
He’d been moving ever since he left the mall bathroom, and that motion had given him something to think about. Now, though, there was nothing to do but wait. And in that stillness, his imagination kept painting pictures of his children. Of how scared they must be.
Dickinson won’t have hurt them. He’s dangerous, but he’s not a psycho. He probably explained the situation to Natalie, let her manage the children. No point dealing with extra drama.
Even if that was true, it meant Natalie would be the one suffering all of it. No idea what was going on, what deals were being made, maybe even why they’d been taken.
Natalie was strong and smart. If things went the way he planned, she and the kids would be free in a couple of hours. She would be able to handle it.
But his daughter would know something was wrong. Kate was only four, but her gift was powerful. She would know that her mother was scared, would know that Dickinson was not a friend.
How will a four-year-old girl deal with that?
He couldn’t think of an answer he liked.
“You should get some sleep,” Shannon said from the kitchen, where she was rifling through Quinn’s fridge. “Big night ahead.”
“You too.”
“I think your boyfriend is twelve. All he has in his fridge is chocolate milk, mustard, and beer.”
“Yes, please.”
She pulled out two bottles, twisted the caps off, and tossed them toward the trash. The kitchen had a pass-through to the living room, and she set his on the counter. They faced each other, the counter between them. Something always between them, it seemed like.
Shannon took a sip, tipping the bottle up and then wiping her lips with the back of her hand. She looked at him, and he could see her trying to decide what to say.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For leaving like that. It was stupid.”
“Yeah. Why did you?”
“I don’t know.” He gestured with the beer. “I was confused.”
“And now you’re not?”
“No, I still am. I just don’t care as much. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Because I can help you.”
“Not only for that.” Cooper paused. “While we’re on the subject, though. Why are you doing this? Helping me?”
“Same reason I’ve given you every time you’ve asked. I’m more than willing to fight for my right to exist.”
“Is that the only reason?”
She gave a noncommittal shrug.
“Let me try again. I’m sorry. I panicked. Everything happened fast, and Smith, the way he plays people. I couldn’t be sure he wasn’t using you to play me.”
“You think I slept with you because he told me to?” Her voice was a knife wrapped in tissue paper.
“It occurred to me, all right? It seemed possible.”
“Screw you, Cooper.”
“But then, on the plane here, it hit me. The real reason I’d panicked. Yes, you’d been lying to me since we met. But I’d been lying to you, too. The difference was that you knew that, and I didn’t. And I guess I just felt…stupid. Embarrassed.”
“You’re terrible at apologies, you know that?”
“Yeah. My ex said something about that.” He tried for a smile, but it died on his lips. “Okay, truth?”
“Please.”
“I really like you, Shannon. It’s been a long time since I felt this way about someone. Years. Since Natalie and I split up. And this thing with you, whatever it is, it feels different. You understand parts of me that no one else does. And you’re amazing at work. I’m not used to someone being able to match me.”
“Arrogant much?”
“Come on. Tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t have to. You’re the one apologizing, not me.”
Cooper took a pull on the beer, set it on the counter. “All right. Last try. You know last night when I asked you about the diner, about you saying you hoped I started fresh? I really, really wished I could do what you were suggesting. Walk away. Start a new life. And you were the reason.”
Something in her softened.
Cooper said, “What we’re about to try is insane. It’s unlikely that we’ll get out alive. But if we do, would you like to have dinner with me?”
Shannon quirked that smile. Took a sip of her beer. “Takes you a while to get there, but in the end you do okay.”
“Is that a yes?”
“You think I’m amazing, huh?”
“Is that a yes?”
She shrugged. “If we’re still alive later, ask me then.”
CHAPTER 39
For all the frenetic activity of the day—the tourist-mobbed streets, the abrupt traffic jams, the motorcades that backed everything up, the eternal construction—at night, downtown Washington, DC, was calm. Restaurants did a steady business, cabs buzzed between hotels, men in suits and women in dresses strolled the sidewalks, but it felt like the pilot light of the city’s furnace. Quinn returned with gear about nine; by nine thirty, the three of them were atop a parking deck in the heart of downtown. The skyline glowed 360, the most famous buildings in the world, bright white and spotlit. Bobby sat cross-legged on the hood of his car, laptop open. Shannon had climbed up on the concrete lip of the deck, was walking it back and forth like a tightrope, a five-story drop on one side and pure calm in her posture.
Cooper was reassembling his weapon. Quinn had brought it along with the rest of the gear. His trip to headquarters had gone without incident; he regularly requisitioned supplies like these, and the guards hadn’t blink
ed. The gun was a Beretta, Cooper’s preferred manufacturer. An agency weapon, and thus perfectly cleaned and maintained, but the army taught you not to fire a weapon you hadn’t taken apart and put back together, and it was a habit he’d never tried to break. If nothing else, it passed the time.
Speaking of…
He glanced at Quinn, saw the man already looking at him. Nodding.
Cooper took out the second burner cell phone and dialed. Gave his code to the operative who answered, “Jimmy’s Mattresses.” Waited for Peters. When his former boss answered, Cooper said, “Couldn’t find me, huh?”
“I told you, I was cleaning up your—”
“Yeah. What’s the street?”
“7th Avenue, Northwest.”
“Stand by.” He muted the phone. “7th Avenue, Northwest.”
Quinn began typing immediately, his fingers flying across the keys. “Let’s see…”
Cooper stared out at the night, tapped his fingers. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. “Bobby…”
“Here we go. 900 7th Avenue. Hingepoint Productions, tenth floor. Give him…ten minutes exactly.”
Cooper unmuted the phone. “900 7th Avenue, Northwest. Hingepoint Productions, on the tenth floor. 9:48. If you’re not there by 9:49, deal’s off.”
“I need more time—”
“Negative.”
Peters sighed. “900 7th Avenue, Northwest, confirmed.”
Cooper hung up the phone. “Let’s roll.”
The parking deck had been at 10th and G, about a third of a mile away. Bobby had been right on the money. He’d been perusing buildings within a narrow radius for the last half an hour, preparing options on every street. The downtown was a snarl of one-ways and traffic lights, and since Peters would have to be driving—no other way to handle Cooper’s family—Bobby had suggested turning that to their advantage, picking somewhere they could get to faster on foot. When it came to planning the logistics of an op, the man was unmatched.
The building was the tallest nearby. An office complex, and despite the hour, a number of the windows were lit up. Made sense. Official business hours might end at six, but in this town someone was always working late.
