Дэвид Балдаччи - King and Maxwell

He drew out the itinerary for which he had killed Milo Pratt. He ran his eye down the column and finally settled on one that appeared to be in the window of possibilities. He sat back in his chair and dreamed what had for so long seemed the impossible dream.

Revenge. And justice. Two of the most potent desires in the world. They were not mutually exclusive. In fact, thought Grant, they went hand in hand extremely well. His father had killed himself over a scandal not of his making. Now the current president was attempting a similar and equally misguided maneuver on the world’s geopolitical stage. Well, this time the administration would pay the price. Grant’s learning of the plan had been the prime reason behind the timing of his operation. It had come none too soon. The grief over his parents’ deaths was becoming unbearable.

Well, it was finally about to end.

“WHERE DO WE DO THE exchange?” said Wingo.

The call had come at last, the next night when the rain was howling outside and the temperature had plummeted as the storm system struck the region.

The filtered voice was mechanical, but the words it spoke were stunning. “There will be no exchange.”

Sean and Michelle, who were listening in because Wingo was using the speakerphone feature on his cell, exchanged a sharp glance.

“What the hell are you talking about?” snapped Wingo. “I’m willing to come in if you let my son go.”

“That may have been your thinking, but it isn’t ours.”

“What then?” barked Wingo.

“Keep calm, Wingo. All you have to do is stand down. You do nothing. If you do that, you will see your son alive. If not, he’s dead.”

Wingo covered his face with his hands and took a deep breath. Michelle put a supportive hand on his shoulder.

“How do I know I can trust you?” said Wingo.

“How do we know we can trust you?”

“Even if I stand down, how will you know I am?”

“We’ll know, Wingo. We have assets in place. You talk to anyone, go anywhere, tell the FBI about your son, give anyone something that will help them on this, we’ll know. And then your son is no more. That is a guarantee.”

Sean pointed to the phone and then his ear. He mouthed the name, “Tyler.”

Wingo said, “I want to talk to my son. Right now. Or no deal.”

A few moments passed, and then Tyler’s voice came on the line.

“D-dad?”

“Tyler, are you all right?”

“I’m really scared. These people–”

There were sounds of a scuffle and Tyler’s voice broke off.

“Tyler? Tyler!” yelled Wingo into the phone.

The mechanical voice came back on. “Stand down, Wingo. Then you get him back.”

“What about Kathy Burnett?”

“Just stand down. And you get your son back.”

The line went dead.

Wingo slowly sat up.

Sean rubbed his jaw and said, “Okay, that was an unexpected development.”

Michelle was eyeing Wingo. “We’re going to get him back, Sam.”

“You have no way of knowing that,” said Wingo bitterly. “And it sounds like Kathy is dead.”

Michelle looked at Sean but said nothing. It did sound like Kathy Burnett was dead.

Wingo looked up. “So there’s nothing more to do. Except wait and hope to God they keep their word.”

“That’s you, not us, Sam,” said Sean. “We have to keep working this thing.”

“But it might put Tyler in danger.”

“He’s already in danger,” said Michelle. “And let’s be brutally honest here. I don’t see them voluntarily letting him go whether you stand down or not, do you?”

Wingo stared at her, the lines in his forehead hardening for a moment and then going lax. “No, I don’t.”

“Our best chance to get Tyler and Kathy back is to find them.”

“How?” barked Wingo. “You have nothing to go on.”

Sean sat down next to him. “I know you’re under incredible stress. I’ve never been a dad so I can’t possibly know what you’re really feeling. But I’m asking you to trust us, Sam. We know what we’re doing. And we will do our best to get them both back. Alive.”

Michelle knelt on Wingo’s other side and said, “The only reason I got into this case was because of Tyler. I could feel something was off with him. I knew how much he missed you, Sam. How much he didn’t want you to be gone. I will do anything, risk my life even, to get him back to you.”

Wingo slowly nodded. “Okay. Okay, I do trust you. Please, just get them back safe.”

They left Wingo in the motel room and climbed into Michelle’s Land Cruiser.

“We promised the man a lot,” said Sean. “And now we need to deliver on that promise.”

“What about Kathy?”

“We said both of them. That means what it means.”

“But if she’s dead?”

“We can only try, Michelle. That’s all we can ever do.”

“Is Edgar our next stop? If he’s been able to track the IP address of Carlton’s source?”

“If he had he would’ve contacted us. It won’t do us any good looking over his shoulder. Geniuses work best alone.”

“What then?”

“We have a lead we haven’t followed up yet.”

“And what would that be?”

“Heron Air Service’s connection to Vista Trading Group.”

“Edgar couldn’t find any dirt.”

“He was just looking at the pixels. We have to get in the dirt to find dirt. The way investigators used to do it.”

“How? We were worried that someone there would recognize us.”

“We do it by stealth.”

“Again, what’s the plan?”

“Conditions on the ground will dictate the plan.”

“Translation – you haven’t thought of a plan yet and you’re buying time until you do.”

He scowled. “Feel free to jump in with one anytime you want.”

She sighed and looked out the window. “We can’t screw this up, Sean. There’s too much at stake.”

“There’s always a lot at stake.”

“I meant with the kids.”

“We’ve been down that road before too. And we didn’t let them die. We found them and brought them home safely.”

“I know. I just hope we can do it this time.”

A few seconds passed and then Sean said, “Actually, I think we can.”

She glanced sharply at him. “You just thought of a plan, didn’t you?”

“I just thought of a plan.”

SEAN DROVE WHILE MICHELLE KEPT an eye out.

“Nice neighborhood,” he said as they passed by some large homes with expensive landscaping. He looked at a few of the homes. “Very nice.”

“Yeah, if you go in for that sort of thing,” replied Michelle.

“What, no heaps of trash?”

“You’re a riot.”

They left that neighborhood and entered another.

“It’s coming up on the left,” noted Michelle. “Third one down.”

Sean eased his car to a stop at the curb behind a pickup truck and killed the engine and the lights. Michelle took out a pair of night-vision binoculars and pointed them across the street.

“So Leon South’s house?” she said. “And what do you hope to find here?”

“Hopefully, a clue that will take us where we need to go.”

“I thought our leak was Dan Marshall, not South?”

“The more I think about that, the more I think it’s too obvious. And we met with them both. You read the body language of each guy. What did you think?”

“That Marshall was on the up-and-up. South was curled in. Gaze to the right and down. Arms folded. Too much posturing. Too much defensive blustering.”

“That was my take too. The leak had to come from somewhere, and my money is on Colonel South.”

“Motive?”

“Marshall made his pile of money. He can retire anytime he wants. South is still on the ladder heading up. But he’s fifty-one so maybe he feels topped out rank-wise. Maybe he wants a better retirement plan than Uncle Sam is offering.”