by Barry Eisler
There was risk either way. But the main thing was, killing Devereaux would do nothing to get Labee and the gang out of immediate jeopardy. And would likely make their jeopardy worse.
He blew out a long, steady breath. A moment later, Devereaux and Dutch had disappeared behind the trees. And Dox was waiting again, hoping he had made the right call.
chapter
eighty-two
RISPEL
Rispel watched in shock as first Dutch and then Devereaux got out of the helicopter and started walking briskly toward her. The two of them here could mean only one thing.
She turned and glanced at her men. “Wait.”
Everyone stopped. She turned back toward Devereaux and Dutch, dipped her hand into her coat pocket, and closed her fingers around the butt of her P229 Legion Compact.
The two of them stopped a few feet away. She eyed them coolly and said, “What are you doing here, Pierce?”
He glanced behind her, assessing her team, the prisoners, and probably the odd sight of Grimble in his red, pleated robe.
“I’m taking over this op,” he called out loudly. Not to her, obviously, but to her men.
She couldn’t believe the gall. “The hell you are, you insufferable worm.”
He looked at her. “I’m ordering you, Lisa. Stand down.”
“I know it’s you in the videos, Pierce. Not the president. You. And Hobbs, too, yes?”
The color drained from his face and she knew she was right.
“It’s disinformation,” he stammered. “Disinformation—”
“You pussy,” she said. “I see right through you. I always have. Now get the fuck out of here. This is my op.”
“Dutch,” one of her men called out from behind her. “What’s going on?”
Dutch glanced at Rispel. “I’m sorry, Lisa. It’s chain of command. That’s all.” He looked at his men. “You heard Director Devereaux. Ms. Rispel reports to him, and that means ultimately you report to him. And he has asserted authority over this op.”
She caught the way Devereaux got the title director while Rispel was merely a Ms. She didn’t need to glance back. She could feel her men buying it.
Devereaux looked at her and smiled. It was a smile of triumph, and disdain, and dominion.
Rispel pulled the P229 out of her pocket and shot him in the heart. His hands flew to his chest and his face contorted in shock and agony. His mouth twitched as though he was trying to say something. Then he sank to his knees and collapsed to his side.
“What the fuck!” Dutch yelled. He dropped down alongside Devereaux, who seemed too busy dying to even notice his man’s attempt at succor.
Rispel turned to her people. “What you don’t know is that Mr. Devereaux has been compromised by the Russians. They have kompromat material on him and have been running him for years. This is a counterintelligence operation, and I couldn’t allow him to interfere with it.”
Dutch stood, and before Rispel could react she was staring down the barrel of a pistol.
“Bullshit,” he said. “I’m not buying it.”
From behind her, she heard Tony say, “Drop your weapon, Dutch.”
She turned. Tony was pointing his machine pistol at Dutch. She turned back. Dutch had swiveled and was pointing his own gun at Tony. Without a second’s hesitation, she raised the P229 and shot Dutch in the face.
And then bursts of suppressed gunfire erupted behind her.
chapter
eighty-three
DOX
Dox couldn’t see what was happening beyond the trees, but he could hear Rispel’s half of the conversation. It sounded like old Manus had been right—Rispel and Devereaux were definitely not singing off the same hymnal. She was dressing the man down but good, and told him she knew he was in the videos, and Hobbs, too, none of which surprised Dox a bit. And then a shot rang out, and though it was hard to believe and he couldn’t be sure, Dox thought Rispel must have done Devereaux. Which was fine by him. The more of them that killed each other, the easier it would be for Dox to mop up the rest.
There was another loud shot. And then, just like that, there were a lot more, all suppressed, some single, some automatic fire.
Rispel wasn’t saying anything else. And all Dox could do was listen helplessly to the surreally quiet shooting, and the occasional scream, and watch the empty clearing, and hope no one he cared about was getting hurt.
chapter
eighty-four
LIVIA
Livia crept in, moving silently behind and to the left of them, until she was about twenty feet away. She crouched behind the last tree thick enough to offer meaningful cover and concealment, and listened while Devereaux tried to assert authority over Rispel’s op. Rispel wasn’t having it, but the man Devereaux was with, Dutch, must have had his own authority, because he backed Devereaux’s play. Livia had just finished thinking, I don’t think you want to corner this woman when Rispel pulled a gun and shot Devereaux.
Livia almost went in, but then Dutch had his own gun out, and he and the guy named Tony were throwing down at each other. Livia saw it an instant before it happened—Rispel spun and shot Dutch, too. And Larison, who must have been waiting for his chance, lunged for the guy to his right, grabbed his pistol, and twisted. Almost simultaneously, Manus and Rain, farther forward, did the same with the men near them.
Livia popped up and moved in, aiming the suppressed Glock at the nearest target, the man Larison was grappling with.
chapter
eighty-five
LARISON
As soon as Larison saw it was Devereaux, he thought, Don’t shoot him, Dox. This is just the kind of thing we need. But there was no real cause for worry. The big sniper was too disciplined to go for the short-term gain. Though it must have been hard for him to stand down, knowing Livia would be in danger, too.
When Rispel told them to wait, Larison turned just enough to keep a peripheral-vision eye on the guy to his right and behind him. The guy was a long step away—closer than Larison would have stood, because action beat reaction and if anything distracted the guy for longer than half a second, Larison would be on him before the guy could pull the trigger.
And then Rispel shot Devereaux, and Larison almost made his move. But holy shit, Tony and Dutch were suddenly doing a Quentin Tarantino dance, which Rispel decisively resolved by shooting Dutch, too. And it was now or never, and Larison lunged at the guy behind him, got his body to the outside of the guy’s machine pistol, and grabbed the barrel. The gun kicked and vibrated and the barrel was instantly hot as it spit out rounds. Larison twisted, but the guy adjusted and hung on. And then the guy twitched and blood spurted out of his neck and he screamed. Larison heard the suppressed shot and smiled grimly. Livia.
He looked up and saw her moving in, firing calmly and implacably, her Glock close to her chin in a two-handed grip. A warm and improbable thought flashed through his mind—And they call me the angel of death—and he ripped the gun out of the guy’s dying grasp and spun.
Rain had grabbed the gun of the guy nearest him and swept his legs out from under him with some kind of judo throw. Manus was holding the barrel of another guy’s gun with one hand and bear-swatted him so hard in the head with the other that Larison was surprised the guy wasn’t decapitated. Delilah was struggling with the guy nearest her, who was short but with arms like an ape’s. Larison waited a beat—precision shooting with an unfamiliar weapon was always risky—and as the guy tried to wrench his gun back from her, enough space opened between them, and Larison shot him in the head. Delilah kept the guy’s gun as he fell away.
He heard bursts of suppressed fire—probably Rain and Manus—and screams. He saw Maya, frozen in place. Before he left Grimble’s office, Larison had told her and the other civilians to drop down and flatten out the instant any shooting started. But Maya must have been too startled by the noise and the violence for his admonition to have taken hold. He braced to run for her, but Kanezaki beat him to it, tackling her and coverin
g her with his body. Diaz, who was a fast learner, was already flattened out.
Movement in his peripheral vision. One of Rispel’s people, trying to acquire him—
There were two bursts of suppressed shots. The man crumpled and went down—Livia and Delilah had hit him simultaneously. The last man took off running. Manus tracked him and brought him down with a short burst. Larison saw the woman Rispel had brought, Fiona, racing for the trees, too. Fuck that. He dropped her with a single shot to the back of the head.
Grimble, who in that red robe should have drawn a lot of fire, was staggering around unhurt, his hands clasped tightly to his ears.
Where was Rispel? He heard a scream. Oriented on it—
And saw Rispel, her arm around Dash’s neck, the muzzle of her gun jammed against his cheek, dragging him backward. The scream had been Evie, who was following Rispel from a few feet away, but was obviously afraid to do more than that.
“Get back!” Rispel yelled. “Get back or I’ll blow his brains out!”
chapter
eighty-six
DOX
When the shooting stopped, Dox had to work to keep the worrisome images at bay. Of Labee especially. Any of them could have been hit.
But he’d know the results one way or the other soon enough. For now, the best way for him to help was to do what usually came so easily to him, which was to stay relaxed. He watched the clearing through the scope, breathed in deeply, and slowly let it out. Breathed in deeply again—
“Get back!” he heard Rispel yell in the earpiece. “Get back or I’ll blow his brains out!”
That rattled him. But he finished slowly letting out the breath.
The good news was, people didn’t grab hostages unless they were desperate. And if Rispel was feeling desperate, on balance things must have gone poorly for her and her men.
The bad news, though, was that desperate people did desperate things. And given that Dox was pretty sure Rispel had just shot the director of National Intelligence, he had to admit that she had done a fine job of establishing her desperation credentials.
He had a feeling who she’d grabbed, too. And didn’t like it at all.
Manus appeared in the clearing, backing up, aiming a suppressed machine pistol toward the trees.
Dash, Dox thought. I knew it.
“Get out of my way!” Rispel screamed. “I’ll kill him! You know I will!”
Dox couldn’t see her. But Manus’s position and orientation must have meant she was trying to come this way. Maybe for a pickup by the Mountain Home entrance.
Manus sighted down the barrel of the gun.
Don’t, Dox thought. Manus, don’t. You need a brain stem shot or her trigger finger could twitch involuntarily. A rifle shot will cause more instant damage. And you don’t know that gun. You’re too invested. Just let her come this way. Trust me. Trust me.
“Last chance!” Rispel screamed. “Get out of my way!”
Manus’s nostrils were flared, his face a mask of hate. He tensed to take the shot—
No, no, no—
And then Manus’s arms shook, and he lowered the gun slightly. He grimaced and started to move away, seeming almost to have to drag his legs to get them to obey.
That’s right. Good man. I got this . . .
Evie screamed, “Let him go, you bitch!”
Come on, Rispel. You sore loser. You cheat. Come and get what you’ve got coming.
And then there she was. Rispel. She was holding Dash close, a pistol pressed to the side of his face, and jerking him from side to side, doing what she could to deny Manus and the people behind her a shot. They all must have had guns pointed at her.
Evie appeared at the edge of the trees, her expression terrified. Manus looked desperate. Dox didn’t know how much longer the man could hold back.
Rispel spun Dash left, then right. Maybe she wasn’t afraid of just Manus and the gang. Maybe she was wondering about Dox again, and whether she was heading into his crosshairs.
Ten feet beyond her was another stand of trees. He wasn’t going to have a surer shot than this. But damn it, it wasn’t sure enough. Still, he would have to risk the shot, or risk losing her entirely.
He focused on Rispel’s ear, but she jerked away. The base of her skull. Dox breathed out and started to ease back the trigger. Rispel spun and suddenly Dash was in the way.
And then Dash must have had enough of being whipped around like a rag doll. Because he lowered his head and clamped his mouth onto Rispel’s forearm. She was wearing a jacket, but it looked like Dash got something good between his teeth because Rispel howled and jerked her arm free. Dash slipped down a few inches. The muzzle of Rispel’s gun was off his face.
Dox fired. The top of Rispel’s head erupted in a cloud of brains and blood. Not the brain stem shot Dox had been hoping for, but with the gun off Dash, good enough for government work. In any event, Rispel didn’t get off a shot, involuntarily or otherwise. She half fell, half slid to the ground. Dash turned, and though Dox couldn’t be sure, he could swear the boy actually said something to her.
Evie and Manus raced in. Evie threw her arms around Dash. Manus paused to put another suppressed round into what was left of Rispel’s head, then wrapped his arms around both Dash and Evie. He looked toward the teahouse, tears running down his face. From where Manus stood he couldn’t see Dox, but Dox could of course see him. Manus nodded his head. Wiped his cheeks. And then mouthed the words thank you.
chapter
eighty-seven
RAIN
A half hour later, they were all in the horse trailer, parked in the far corner of one of the lots at a place called El Corte de Madera Creek Preserve, an enormous outdoor space seemingly popular with hikers, bicyclists, and horseback riders. Delilah and Larison were already waiting there in the Porsche when the rest of them arrived, and Rain had a feeling Delilah had finally gotten to drive it the way he knew she wanted to on the mountain switchbacks that led to the preserve.
Evie, who was driving the truck, parked in the second-to-last space at the end of the lot. Delilah pulled the Porsche around next to it, so that it was concealed by the trailer on one side and the towering trees of a pine forest on the other. The trailer was congruent here, but Rain was concerned that at some point Larry the guard might describe the Porsche to the police. Still, Rain had explained to Grimble that the less the police knew, the more likely it was that the world—aka Sekigahara—would be left in peace.
“You might want to make sure the guards understand that, too,” Rain had said. “And even pay them a bonus for a job well done.”
Kanezaki placed a satellite hotspot near a window, and Maya and Evie worked on Grimble’s laptop. A lot of it was technical, but everyone understood the purpose: have Grimble’s cloud decoders choose their own impossible-to-guess passcodes, leaving the system technically intact but functionally useless.
There was a lot of backslapping in the small space, as there always was after a successful mission with no losses. Dash was watching Maya and Evie at work, seemingly fascinated by their easy camaraderie. He was a resilient kid, tough and smart. And maybe a little too fascinated by all the derring-do he had just witnessed, and been part of. But Rain supposed everyone has a destiny.
Dox waved to get Dash’s attention. “How are you doing there, son?”
Dash came out from behind Evie and Maya, and Manus adjusted his position so he could see Dox’s face, too.
Dash said, “I’m good,” simultaneously signing so Manus could follow both sides of the conversation.
“I could be wrong about this,” Dox said, “but did you say something to Rispel back there?”
Dash nodded. “I said, ‘I told you I wasn’t scared of you.’”
Dox laughed and ruffled Dash’s hair. “You’re going to be fine, son. You’re strong, and your folks are, too.”
Dash put his arm around Manus’s waist and beamed. “They’re all right,” he said, and Dox laughed again.
Evie moved
from behind the laptop to the other side of Dash and put her arm around him. “If there’s ever anything you need,” she said to Dox, “Anything we can do. Anything. You tell us.” She looked at Rain and said, “That means you, too.”
Rain nodded an acknowledgment. He understood Evie’s sentiment. But he didn’t want or expect anything. He was relieved it had all worked out. And that it was over.
Dox, unsurprisingly, was less reticent. “You don’t owe me a thing,” he said. “And even if you did, old Marvin here already paid me.” He looked at Marvin and smiled. “I might have to acquire one of those Cold Steel Espadas. Though I doubt anybody could deploy it as effectively as you.”
Manus held out a hand. They shook.
Diaz was stroking Margarita, who seemed a little nervous at all these people who had invaded her trailer. Or maybe it was the gunshots she had heard earlier.
“Hey,” Diaz said to Larison. “When you asked Grimble before about whether he had copies of the passcode he had stenciled in that mask. Were you thinking . . . what I think you were thinking?”
Rain knew for a fact that Larison had been thinking exactly that. Because Rain had been, too. But it was Larison’s question to answer.
Larison gave her one of his trademark chilling smiles. “What do you think I was thinking?”
Diaz hesitated, then said, “About whether . . . it would have made sense to kill him.”
Larison shrugged. “I like to consider all the possibilities.”
“But in the time we’ve been gone,” Diaz said, looking at Larison and then to Rain, “couldn’t he log back in? And lock us out?”
Larison nodded. “I considered that, too. But I think he wants Schrader’s ‘doomsday device’ destroyed as much as any of us. It’s created too much danger for his samurai toys. Besides. Like I said. He has an honest face.”
Maya looked up and said, “Okay, we’re good.”
Everyone gathered around the laptop.