“If you know I’m MI6, then you know what I’m capable of,” Katie says, taking the smallest step toward Andrews.
“Better back up, little girl. You may be a spy, but bullets can still stop MI6 agents just as well as they can stop a CIA officer. Or a sickly-looking redhead,” Andrews says as she points her weapon first at Katie, then me, then Bunker.
“Look, I need to find Koval. I didn’t ruin my career just to go to jail. You know what they do to cops in jail? I want the money I was guaranteed, and the passport, and a way out of here like he promised me.”
“Wait. You double-crossed Marchuk, too? Was anyone loyal to that guy?” I ask, stalling until the help I hope is on the way gets here. “But I feel you on that dude. I remember when I was in Ukraine—”
Andrews aims her gun in my direction.
“Shut up,” Andrews says. “You talk too much. And too loud. Only thing I need from you is to find Koval for me. It sounded to me like you were working on a plan, superspies.”
“And if we help you, then what?” I ask.
“And then I’ll get the hell out of the country and enjoy an early retirement.”
“You don’t need Bunker for that. I mean, look at the poor guy.” Katie’s right—I’m pretty sure Bunker’s about to hurl any second. “Let him go or I won’t help you.”
“You make a good point. One superspy is probably just as good as two, and a helluva lot easier to keep my eye on,” Andrews says, coming down one more step toward us and taking aim at Katie. “I’ll take Smith with me, but kill the two of you.”
That’s when the doors burst open, filling the stairwell with SWAT officers from behind and above us.
CHAPTER 30
Well, it’s about damn time.
“We had to get in position,” Berg says to me.
My expression must be talking for me, but I let him know in words what I think. “It took you long enough. I was running out of ways to stall her.”
Katie looks over at me and asks, “You—but how?”
“My boss has been blowing up my phone ever since I hung up on her. I answered her last call but didn’t say anything, just left an open line.”
“Man, I was wondering how you were going to get us out of that one,” Bunker says, probably taking his first breath since Andrews said she was going to kill him. He looks like he might pass out.
Katie smiles. “So that whole thing about the busy stairwell being near the office was just letting her know where we were. Not bad for just a hacker.”
“Well, I figured I owed you one,” I say, feeling damned good about myself. Yup, I’ll admit it. “Now we’re even.”
“Well, not that I was counting, but you still owe me one.”
She winks at me and I don’t think she’s just talking about our bad guy count. I swear to God if Berg wasn’t here and several SWAT officers weren’t trying to subdue Andrews—who is putting up one helluva fight—I’d kiss Katie right now.
“Oh, young love. How sweet,” Berg says in a tone that makes it clear he doesn’t find it sweet at all. “At least act like you’re operatives.”
“Operatives, plural?” Katie asks.
“Drop the act. I know who you are. I’ve spoken to your boss. And if we’re keeping score, I just saved both your asses.”
“Only with their help,” Bunker says. “Every perp you have in custody, we wrapped up for you.”
“Who is he?” Berg asks. “Another baby operative?”
“I’ve been deputized by Peter Smith into the Company. Caesar Augustus Octavian Murphy, at your service, sir.”
“That’s your real first name? And second? And third?” I ask Bunker, trying to suppress a laugh.
“Totally suits me, right?”
Not. At. All.
But what I tell him is, “Absolutely. But you know the third name is kind of overkill. Caesar, Augustus, and Octavian were the same person.”
“My father was really into the Roman Empire. Talk about your government spies.”
“We don’t need your family history, just your official statement. Hudson, take Caesar away,” Berg says to his second officer.
That starts me laughing because one, it’s funny, and two, if I don’t laugh I just might lose it after what I’ve been through. Berg apparently doesn’t find Bunker’s name or the situation as amusing as I do. He grabs me by the arm and practically drags me out of the stairwell, across the hall, and into the office. That cures me of the giggles real quick.
I pull my arm from his grip. “If you care about your health, you best stop manhandling me.”
“You’d have to actually be a man for me to do that,” Berg says, apparently in search of an ass-kicking. Forget the CIA training. I grew up on the streets of Southside Atlanta, where they also teach combat skills. After the day I’ve had, I’m about ready to demonstrate them.
“Oh, so you’re calling me a boy, now?”
“I’m calling you under arrest. You and your girlfriend, at least until her government gets here to take her off my hands,” Berg says, and no matter how controlled he’s keeping his voice, I see in his eyes that he’s actually worried I might go off on him, which is enough for me. I get it together long enough to regain my focus, which should be on finding Joel.
“I don’t think so. Peter and I have a mission to complete,” Katie says.
“Rogers will back me on that, Berg. Do yourself a favor and instead of blocking us, help us out. You’re always looking for a promotion, and this is the kind of mission that’ll get you one.”
But Berg isn’t trying to hear anything I have to say, and instead calls over a couple of uniforms.
“Escort this one home,” he says, pointing at Bunker. “Take these two to lockup. And don’t let the kid get away this time, or I’ll—”
“You aren’t taking him anywhere,” says a familiar voice from behind me.
It’s Jones, standing in the doorway and looking hella groggy, thanks to Katie’s drugs. Deep down, I never really suspected Jonesy was on the wrong side, and I totally appreciate the effort, but he must still be out of it if he thinks the school office guy outranks Berg and his team, all of whom have just pulled their sidearms and aimed them at him.
“See? I told you I didn’t give him that much carfentanil,” Katie says. “But it must have been enough to make him delusional.”
“And who the hell are you?” Berg asks.
“Tell your men to stand down,” I say. “He’s Dodson’s receptionist, the one she told you went missing.”
“Oh, I see. We should stand down just because he’s a Carlisle employee, like the groundskeeper and the janitor.”
Okay, so Berg has a point, but I know he and Katie are wrong about Jonesy.
Jones smiles and shakes his head a little, like he knows what’s up and it’s the rest of us who are clueless.
“No, I’m not a Carlisle employee. In fact, you and I have the same employer, Berg—at least at the top level,” Jones says, starting to sound as crazy as I must have a few minutes ago when I almost lost it on Berg. “I’m Special Agent Richardson, FBI.”
Um, what?
“Do you have credentials on you?” Berg asks, scowling and apparently as skeptical as I am.
“I’m undercover, so of course not. Call your assistant director. He’ll verify.”
Berg gestures to Hudson, who gets on the phone.
“In the meantime, I’ll be taking Officer Smith with me for a debriefing. You don’t have any problem with that, do you, Smith?”
“Uh … no?”
“And I’m going with,” Katie says.
“Like hell you’re taking him anywhere,” Berg says to Jones, ignoring both Katie and me. “Even if you’re who you say you are, they’re mine to debrief. At least the boy is. I don’t care about the girl, but he’s CIA.”
I can’t seem to come to my own defense because I’m still too dumbstruck by the fact that mild-mannered Jonesy has been an undercover agent all this time. From now on, I will never t
rust anyone with the last name of Jones or Smith to be who they claim to be. And also, Katie is right. We really need to get more creative with our cover names.
“He’s who he says he is, chief,” Hudson says once he gets off the phone.
As if to confirm what Hudson has just told us, though I still don’t quite believe it, an FBI agent enters the office, followed by Hudson, and hands Jones a badge, tactical holster, and two handguns.
“Where did he come from? Who let your man in here?” Berg asks. “I didn’t call the FBI in on this.”
Hudson says, “He had credentials, sir. I had to let him in.”
“He sure did. This is a domestic matter now. You know it’s in violation of CIA rules to conduct missions on US soil,” Jones says, giving me a stern look. “Besides, I thought Smith has been nothing but a thorn in your side. Seems you’d want me to take him off your hands.”
“Yeah, that’s what it seems like, Berg.” I finally manage to say something, but it’s so weak, it probably would have been best to remain quiet.
“You only want him because you figured out Peter’s a better operative than you’ll ever be,” Katie says, getting all up in Berg’s face. “He’s pretty much handed this operation over to you with a bow on it: Marchuk and crew, Andrews. No more freebies for you. Let’s go, Agent Richardson.”
“Sorry, Ms. Carmichael, but you nearly stunned me and did sedate me. Why would I take you anywhere with me?”
“Because I am here on request of Her Majesty’s secret service. And I—”
“Like I said, Ms. Carmichael, this is a domestic matter and I’m certainly not working with a foreign spy,” Jones explains. “I only need Smith for a debriefing.”
Katie turns to Jones and gives him such a look that I think every last one of us in the room is afraid. “This was my mission long before any of you even knew who Joel Easter was. I am not about to let—”
“Who’s Joel Easter?” Berg makes the mistake of interrupting her again.
“See, now it’s your turn to shut up, Berg,” Katie says before turning to Jones. “If you think for one minute you’re kicking me off this mission, be prepared to feel the wrath of the British Secret Service and the Prime Minister, because—”
Jones looks at her like he just figured out that despite the plaid skirt and saddle shoes, the Katie standing before him is not the one who won homecoming queen.
“Okay, okay, my mistake,” Jones says wisely. “You come, too.”
“And me?” Bunker asks.
“You aren’t working undercover with Interpol or the Defense Intelligence Agency, are you?” Jones asks.
“No, but—”
“Sorry, no civilians,” Jones says, cutting Bunker off. “And now time is critical, so we need to go.”
Bunker looks disappointed, but goes with a local officer to give his statement as Jones instructs. I don’t know if I’ll see him again, since that’s how it works with the Company sometimes, so before he leaves, I tell him, “Thanks for having my back.”
“Always, brother.”
He gives me a man-hug and this time I don’t care who’s there, so I give him a real hug back before the officer takes him away.
CHAPTER 31
“So what’s the plan?” Katie asks Jones once we’re away from Berg and his people. “I think the way to go is to split up—you search inside, Peter and I will start searching the grounds—find and secure Joel, then eliminate Koval.”
“I know you want to find Joel, but we need to reassess the situation first, and from there, figure out where Koval might have taken him,” Jones says, but he doesn’t know Katie. So much of espionage is watching and waiting, so I’m not sure how she passed all the psych evals for the job, because her patience level is always set to low.
“Can we do it on the fly? Every minute we spend talking about finding Joel is time we aren’t actually finding him.”
“She’s more a doer than a planner,” I explain to Jones. “But he’s got a point, Katie. This is probably not the time to just wing it.”
Katie sighs but follows us into the nearest unoccupied classroom. “Okay, so reassess, regroup, whatever, and let me know when you’re both ready to actually do something. I’ll be over here reassessing and regrouping my supplies.”
She stakes out the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, where she dumps out the contents of her bag. Jones takes a seat in the front row and I pace the empty space between them. Pacing always helps me think better.
“All right, Smith, give me a quick recap.”
I start with the storming of my chem lab, the naming of all the characters, the roles they played, and end with where we stand now.
“And now Vadim Koval has Joel, in case you forgot,” Katie says as she breaks into parts what had been a small flute. Soccer, engineering club, spy. How did she find time for band, too, and why didn’t I know about it? “We should be out there searching instead of in here talking, guys.”
I go over to the window and watch the arrival of frantic parents. It’s strange that a couple of hours ago, all the chaos was inside and I longed for the peace beyond Carlisle’s walls. Now it’s the opposite—law enforcement agents are calmly and methodically going about their work inside, while the rest of the city is trying not to lose it outside as word of the incursion reaches them.
“Maybe Sveta can tell us where Koval’s keeping him.”
I remind Katie, “She’s unconscious, thanks to your needles of doom.”
“I have ways of bringing her back.”
I don’t doubt she carries some kind of carfentanil antidote in that bag, because now she’s holding up a small pistol made from the reassembled parts of her flute—I’m guessing a .22 caliber, from the size of it. But probably not. I’ve only known her as a spy for a little over an hour, but I can’t see Katie carrying such a wimpy caliber gun, even if it was made out of a band instrument.
“The only reason Koval wants Joel is to get to his father. I have a man at the federal lab guarding him. Let me call and fill him in, in case Koval has tried to make contact with Joel’s dad,” Jones says, dialing a number.
“That’s hopeful,” I tell Katie. “Koval needs Joel alive and well, and close by, until he can use him as leverage. And he can’t get to the father if the FBI is guarding him.”
“Hmm, my agent isn’t answering.”
He makes a second phone call and though we can’t hear the other end of it, it’s obvious from his expression that it’s bad news. When he hangs up, he fills us in.
“I called his desk at the lab and got his supervisor, who says Nolan Easter and his guest left for lunch and never returned.”
“What guest?” I ask.
“My agent posed as a visiting scientist. He and Mr. Easter left for lunch over two hours ago.”
“That’s a long lunch, especially when your agent knows there’s intel suggesting possible trouble today. Maybe he took Joel’s dad somewhere safer,” I say, more for Katie’s nerves than because I believe it.
“Not many places in town safer than a secured federal lab,” Jones says.
“The police department,” I offer.
“No, my agent would have called me.”
“Are you certain your agent isn’t on Marchuk’s payroll like Andrews?” Katie asks.
“I trust him,” Jones says as he rests one hand on top of his head. “Maybe Marchuk has more men in town, and they intercepted my agent somehow.”
“Uh oh,” I say, flashing back to the visitor’s sign-in screen. “Jones, did you take your lunch the same time you always do during fifth period?”
“Yes, and I hate the idea that you’ve been spying on me this whole time.”
“Not spying. Intel-gathering,” I say. “So whoever fills in for you while you’re at lunch must have been at the window when he arrived.”
“When who arrived?” Jones asks.
“Mr. Easter, just before the end of fifth period and the lunch bell. It didn’t occur to me until you said his
full name because he signed in as Dr. Nolan E.,” I explain.
“Could they have been here this whole time?” Katie asks. “Where? And doing what?”
“He gave the purpose for the visit as a parent-teacher conference. Guess who the teacher was.”
“Maitland,” Katie says. “So he wasn’t wandering the halls for no reason when Bunker found him in the biology lab. He’s somehow in on all of this.”
“The guy was always my least favorite teacher,” Jones says, “but to be involved in this? I don’t know. Where’s the motive?”
“I was so busy scoping out new students as suspects, I didn’t even consider new employees like you, Jones, or Maitland. He arrived this year too, with a gambling problem which is apparently a lot worse than I thought.”
“That’s a classic motive. Could be he was in debt to dangerous people, and Marchuk offered him a big payout. But what would Marchuk have paid him to do?” Jones asks.
“Joel was in fifth-period World Geo,” Katie says. “They probably planned to lift him then, with Maitland’s help. Something must have scared him into the trophy case before Maitland could deliver him. When they couldn’t find Joel in World Geo or at lunch, they had to go to plan B and take him out of sixth-period chem.”
“Where they knew I’d be,” I say, finishing her thought. “They anticipated I’d fight back and came in through the ceiling for the element of surprise, only to find neither of us there.”
“So they’ve been hunting Smith only because they thought you and Joel were together, or that you had hidden him away somewhere,” Jones says.
“Oh no, Marchuk definitely wanted to kill me. He was just shortsighted in personally seeing to it while Koval ran the more critical operation. If Marchuk’s awake, he’s sitting in a room being interrogated right now, and still probably doesn’t realize Koval took over his plan.”
“Which is what, exactly?” Katie asks.
“They couldn’t just stroll into NIST, especially with Jones’s guy on the premises.”
“I told you, the agent was undercover as a scientist,” Jones offers.
“Yeah, there’s a reason for the CIA. Y’all just aren’t as good at subterfuge as we are. Sorry, Jones, but someone on Marchuk’s team saw right through his cover, made your guy for a cop, and intercepted him like you said. Or Easter managed to ditch your agent during lunch. Either way, he didn’t get the job done.”
Prettyboy Must Die Page 19