Hunter slowed and stared at the light colored Suburban parked at the curb as they passed it.
Charlie turned and craned his neck. “It’s them, all right. Mud on the license plate is a little amateurish, huh?”
Charlie’s voice was nasal, his words clipped. Brooklyn, maybe, Hunter decided. He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be misled.” His voice soft. “This one is far from amateur. And we don’t know who the woman is working for.”
If the Mallory woman were a pro, Hunter had found no evidence of her alliance. Internet searches on his phone had produced nothing beyond her birth certificate, college record, her employment history as a teacher, and a parking ticket a couple of years ago. Nothing to indicate she was working for any agency, foreign or domestic. There was one anomalous incident: her uncle’s death in his antique shop when she was twelve. Henry Greene dropped dead of a heart attack during an armed robbery. The felon was never apprehended. That incident couldn’t possibly be related to the present.
If she were an innocent bystander, she was a random element, and, unlike a trained agent, unpredictable. Either way, Hunter would take great pleasure in dealing with her.
His only option after losing Nick and Alyssa in Flint had been to go to the man’s roots: his hometown. Escanaba, Michigan, was a hick town in the Upper Peninsula hugging the shores of Lake Michigan and surrounded on three sides by wilderness. He’d been right. He and Charlie had seen the Suburban as it turned down the street, headed for Nick’s old friend’s house. After all, what were friends for?
Hunter ran his tongue over his lips. He and Charlie had done a job once before in this town. Hunter savored each kill, remembering them with astonishing clarity. That woman had been small and frightened. His orders were to make a clean kill. Make it look like an accident. There was no pleasure in routine death. Cutting her throat was not satisfying. Her screams excited him. He’d had his fun before she died. And the fire had hidden what he’d done to her. Against all odds, the man had survived. Hunter should have cut his throat, too.
Now it was unfinished business. This assignment was becoming more and more complex. The proximity to the previous job made his heart pump adrenaline and heightened his perceptions. Anticipation of the Mallory woman’s fear sent a shiver of exhilaration through him. Aroused him. To calm himself he ran his fingers over his short hair and drew a deep breath. He glanced at his partner.
“How long you been with me, Charlie?” Hunter said.
“Two and a half years. Why?”
“Long time.” Hunter peered forward.
“Longer’n anybody else.” A boastful note in Charlie’s voice. “Your last partner only lasted four months.”
Hunter nodded, said nothing. Charlie grated on his nerves. It wouldn’t be long before Charlie got careless. Careless enough to cost Hunter his life. Or worse, his freedom. The time had come for Charlie to have an accident like his previous partner. Soon.
Hunter turned off the headlights, crimped the wheel to the left so the car completed a U-turn on the wide street, and coasted to a stop next to the curb a few houses behind the van. He put the car in Park and turned off the ignition. While Charlie smoked, Hunter surveyed the street. Empty. Ten fifty-four on his Rolex. A light was on in an upstairs room of the Stevens’ house.
Charlie’s whisper distracted him. “Unless they’re hiding in the van, they’re inside.”
Hunter nodded.
“Stevens was a good guess,” Charlie said. “Now they’re cornered. Maybe the woman’s contacts aren’t interested.”
“Or they want a sample before they pay.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know what he’s got. What could be so damned important that we got to take the woman too?”
Hunter snorted. “He knows. He’s been sitting on it all this time so we’d think it was lost. As soon as he thought he was in the clear, he’d head for Rio or somewhere we’d never find him.”
“If Wolf wants it that bad, then it must be dynamite. Nick’s got all the leverage he needs.”
Hunter didn’t take his gaze off the Stevens’ house. He wondered what the sheriff’s wife looked like, but dismissed the idea as too dangerous. “It would give us leverage, too.”
Charlie sat still a moment. “You mean ‒ “
Hunter turned to his partner. “I mean,” he said, his voice cold, “that we’d have the entire government bowing and scraping if we had the info. There’d be money. All those people on the list think they’re safe. That their original identities are buried so deep nobody can find them.”
Charlie shook his head. “Double-crossing Wolf isn’t a good idea. You heard what happened to ‒”
“Rumors, Charlie. Rumors can be dangerous.”
“But ‒”
“I know what the first pig told me,” Hunter said. “A man in pain reveals much. He babbled about money. Lots of money. Unfortunately, he’d already given the files to the second pig. And we thought it went down with Ed’s plane. All this time Nick’s been sitting on it. Think about the money, Charlie. It’s there. For anybody with the strength to take it.”
Charlie’s wide-eyed stare turned to a cunning frown. “There’ll be bodies ‒”
Hunter held up a hand. “There are always bodies, Charlie.”
Charlie smiled, showing slightly crooked teeth. “Money ....” The word was whispered, drawn out.
Hunter grinned and looked back at the sheriff’s house. “The woman is mine.” His voice was soft. “The others die quickly. We get the drive, sell it to the highest bidder and split the money.”
“Sure. Anything you say.” Charlie flicked his cigarette butt out the window and lit another.
There was no point admonishing Charlie. He would be taken care of soon. They waited, Hunter silent, Charlie chain-smoking, for over an hour. Finally, two forms emerged from the heavy shadows beside the house. The man wearing a baseball cap paused, held the woman back a moment. Even at this distance Hunter recognized the woman’s slight frame and pale hair. His muscles tightened.
Charlie nudged Hunter’s arm. Charlie knew better than to touch him. Hunter turned and glared at the other man.
Charlie flinched. “Sorry. He’s got something.”
Hunter concentrated on the two as they made their way across the yard, keeping to the darkest shadows. The woman walked a step in front of the man. They paused at the curb. The man looked up and down the street, his features hidden by the bill of a cap, but his bearded profile was visible. He carried a large manila envelope. He took the woman’s arm and guided her across the street. The woman limped. Good. She would be easier to catch.
Hunter concentrated on the couple. There was something about the way the man moved, a subtle difference. Hunter watched the woman. She looked back at the house once, then moved with the quick, furtive motions of fear. The man opened the passenger door, and she climbed in. The man’s movements seemed freer than when Hunter had seen him before. Like he thought the need for caution was past, a man who was acting before thinking.
Hunter smiled. Stupid. Never assume anything. Never stop thinking, analyzing. He fingered the scar on his cheek, a scar that underscored the importance of false assumptions. The young Israeli woman who had cut him had paid for her arrogance. Just as Alyssa Mallory would pay.
***
Inside Will Stevens’ house Nick stood in the dark peeking through a gap in the mini-blinds. He watched the two figures cross the street. The woman glanced back.
“No, don’t look, Alyssa,” he said. As though she heard him, she turned and faced forward, her limp pronounced as agreed upon. She went in front of Will who wore Nick’s jacket.
“Good, good,” he said. “Way to go, buddy.”
The two of them climbed into the SUV. Within seconds the engine started, and the vehicle moved slowly off into the night. Nick turned his attention to the dark sedan half a block away. When the Suburban reached the corner, the sedan pulled into the street. As the car gained speed, a red spark flew from the passenger side window to
the ground. A cigarette butt, tossed by a careless smoker. They were both in the car. Nick inhaled deeply. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath.
Still, he waited. Never assume, he reminded himself. There could be a third person waiting in the shadows. He held his breath again, trying to pick up unusual sounds through the open window. Crickets chirped, and in the distance a dog barked. Just the quiet, normal sounds of a neighborhood going to sleep.
After the discovery of the names and codes and bank account numbers on the flash drive, Will had gone to use the bathroom in his bedroom. When he returned, he told them he’d seen a car parked across the street.
Alyssa went to Will’s bedroom and peeked out the window. It looked like the car from the parking lot incident. Will favored calling a couple of his deputies and arresting them. When Nick reminded him of their precarious position and that it was not illegal to park on a residential street, Will relented. For the time being.
“So what do we do?” Will said. “We don’t know how long they’ve been out there. We don’t know who they are, what they’re waiting for or how long they’ll wait, or if they’ll wait. They may decide to come in with the big artillery.”
A visible shudder passed through Alyssa.
Will turned to Nick. “You have to get out of here before they make a move on us. And you have to hide the flash drive.”
Nick agreed. But he needed time, time to assess the intel on the flash drive, time to develop a plan. Alyssa bought him that time.
“I have an idea,” she said.
The two men turned to her.
She looked back and forth between them. “Do you know how much you two look alike? Will, you’re just a little heavier, but the same height. And those guys don’t know Nick shaved.” Will stroked his bearded chin. “I think you could switch places and fool them. Then Nick could stay here and work, while you lure them away.”
Nick nodded slowly. “What about you?”
“I go with Will,” she said. “It’s the only way they’ll believe it.”
Neither of the men had an alternative idea. Alyssa’s plan was logical. Will took Nick’s plaid shirt, leaving his vest behind, and put on Nick’s cap. He grabbed Nick in a bear hug and said something to him Alyssa didn’t catch.
She and Will paused by the door. Nick gave last minute directions. “Keep to the shadows.” To Alyssa he said, “Stay in front, and limp so they’re focusing on you. I think you’re safe until they get the drive. They need you ‒ both of us ‒ for insurance.” He had a sudden urge to pull her close to him, to stroke her hair and whisper in her ear, to hold her forever. His duty was clear. And his wife’s presence was there with him, too. The guilt he felt over her death hung over him, strangled his emotions.
Alyssa’s eyes held fear, but also hope, and something he thought might be trust. Trust in him.
He took the baseball cap from her head. “Don’t wear this. Your hair will attract attention. Maybe they won’t look too closely at Will.” He swallowed. “Be careful.”
“We’ll be careful.” Moisture glistened in her eyes. “You be careful, too.”
Then they had gone, out into the darkness before he could say more, or take her in his arms.
Nick closed the blinds and stood a long moment in the dark bedroom. He would remember all his life the trust in Alyssa’s eyes. Had there been more than trust? Some spark that indicated she felt something more for him?
“No time for that,” he said aloud.
He withdrew a cell phone from his pocket and sat at Sara’s desk to be near the window, hoping for a good signal. The signal was fine. He hesitated, staring at the phone display, then tapped out a number long unused, indelibly printed in his memory. The phone was answered on the second ring.
“NSA secure line.” The male voice was deep and melodious and held a faint trace of an European accent. Not the voice Nick expected. His mind whirled as he searched his memory to match the voice. “Yes, yes?”
“Bernstein?” Nick said.
“No.”
“Who is this?”
Hesitation. “Frank.”
“I was expecting someone else.”
“Who is this?”
Nick sighed. “You won’t believe me, but do the numbers 2-1-275 and the name Special Ops Big Bad Wolf mean anything to you?”
A pause. “Yes.” A neutral tone in the voice, betraying nothing. “Who is this?”
Nick hesitated, and then plunged on. “This is Travis Nickels.”
A long moment of silence.
“Travis, it’s nice to hear from you.” The man didn’t sound in the least surprised. “This is Frank Hood.”
“Small world,” Nick said. “Last time I saw you was in London.”
“Four years ago.”
“Yeah, long time. What are you doing answering this phone so late at night?”
“Things change.”
“I’ll say. I’ve got trouble, Frank. Besides you now, somebody else knows I’m alive, and they’re after me.”
“What’s going on?” There was an odd quality to the other man’s voice. A flatness.
Nick filed it away to think about later. “I’d like to talk to you about pigs and returning some missing information.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“I don’t have a lot of time.” Nick took a deep breath. “The Agency and WITSEC made guarantees to me they haven’t kept.”
“Things happen.”
“Yes, they do. Bad things.” Nick glanced at the time on the phone. Where were Alyssa and Will?
Focus on the present, he reminded himself. “I have some information of a sensitive nature to the Agency. Since my identity in the Program has been blown, your department is the only one I can trust.”
“What sort of information?”
“A list.”
“A list?”
“Special ops agents in the Agency. And Witness Protection. Ed Parker had it sent to me after he died with a note that said it came from Jerry Welch. I think it came from inside.”
There was empty silence on the phone. Had the other man had hung up? “You there?”
“Yes,” the man answered. “Off the record, the NSA might be interested in what you have.”
“You can have it. There’s a price.” Silence. Nick chuckled. “Don’t worry. This isn’t an extortion attempt. I want to know who killed my wife and tried to kill me. Do you know?”
“I could have a few theories if I had all the information. I haven’t been in this position long enough to have the clearances I’d need. And your case is probably buried deep. After all, you’ve been dead for three years.”
“Dammit, Frank, the Agency owes me. These people came after me in my own home. That’s not right. Can you find out?”
“Where are you?”
Nick hesitated, then decided they probably already knew where he was. “Northern Michigan. You call the cops in Flint, and they’ll give you an earful. All untrue.”
“I’ll make some inquiries, call in some favors.”
“I want to know. I need to know. If the Agency is after me, you should know. If it’s someone else, well, I want to know who I’m dealing with.”
The man on the other end of the line sighed. “Anything else?”
“One thing. I only give this to you personally.”
“Me? Why?”
“I need to deal with one person. Someone I trust. I thought I’d get Bernstein when I called this number. You’ll do.”
“Okay. Where do we meet?”
Nick had thought this out. But faced with saying it, doubts nagged at his mind. He would deal with contingencies later.
“Listen carefully,” Nick said. “Do you know Lakeview cemetery, in Cedar River on US Highway 35, about an hour south of Escanaba, where my wife is buried?”
“I know where it is. I came to your funeral.” A hint of irony in Frank’s voice.
Frank had been at the funeral? Nick filed the information in his mind. “There. In the
cemetery. Sunset tomorrow. No. Exact time: ten thirty p.m. Come alone.”
“It’s almost midnight. How the hell do you expect me to find out what you need to know and get there in less than twenty-four hours?”
“Call in those favors quick, Frank. After all, you work for the NSA. I wouldn’t ask if there was any other way. And I have a civilian who needs protection.” Nick disliked the note of pleading that had crept into his voice. “Tomorrow. Ten thirty. Be on time ‒ no sooner, or I won’t show.”
“How can I reach you?”
“Call me at this number tomorrow at exactly 6:00 p.m., to let me know you’re on your way. You won’t be able to trace this phone because I won’t turn it on until then.”
“What about ‒”
“Just do it,” Nick said and ended the call. He pulled the battery from the phone.
He stared at the phone, toying with the idea of calling someone else, but there was nobody to call. There was only Will ‒ maybe grown older and a step slower and complacent as a small town sheriff. And Alyssa ‒ a kindergarten teacher whose fear of guns bordered on the pathological. And himself. Only his wits.
Whoever was after him would not hesitate to kill him ‒ and Alyssa and anybody else who got in the way ‒ as they had killed his wife, Caroline.
His thoughts kept coming back to Alyssa. The stakes were much higher than he had realized.
A revelation spread through his mind. He could not bear to lose her. He had gotten over the loss of Caroline, had finally moved beyond the grief and horror and guilt and found someone he could love forever. No, he could not lose Alyssa. He had to find a way to keep her safe.
The phone and battery went into his shirt pocket. He made sure the blinds were shut tight and pulled the curtains closed. He turned on a single lamp, just enough to see by, and sat down at the computer. He would look again at the information and delve into its secrets, looking for a way out, something to bargain with, if only for Alyssa’s life. Nick had to protect Alyssa at any cost.
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