Дэвид Балдаччи - The Sixth Man

“SHE’S STOPPING,” said Sean, as he stared down at the miniature screen. “Slow down a bit when you come around the next turn.”

Michelle decelerated as they hit the curve. About five hundred yards up ahead they could see the taillights of Dukes’s car wink out.

“Lonely place,” said Michelle.

“What else would it be for a meeting like this?”

“We need to get closer.”

“On foot. Come on.”

A low stone wall provided cover and also allowed them to draw near enough to see who Carla Dukes was meeting in a small clearing that had an old picnic table and rusty charcoal grill.

He was shorter than she was, young and thin.

She walked up and down in front of the man, talking animatedly while he stood still, watching her and nodding from time to time. They could see all this, but they couldn’t hear what was being said.

Sean pulled out his camera, which he’d taken from the truck, and snapped some pictures of the pair. He studied the screen and then showed Michelle. “Recognize him?” he said quietly.

She studied the face. “No. Young and geeky. Not my idea of some super-duper spy.”

“They come in all shapes and sizes these days. In fact the ones that don’t actually look like spies are the most valuable.”

“Then this guy is golden.”

When Dukes drove off, they didn’t pick up the tail again. They followed the man instead. He was the next link in the puzzle chain. And he might just lead them where they needed to go. Since they didn’t have a tracking device on his car they had to stay closer than Michelle would have liked, but the man made no sign that he knew he was being followed.

Several hours later it was apparent where the man was going.

“Bangor,” said Sean, and Michelle nodded.

“Do you think he lives there?” she said.

Sean looked up ahead. “No. His car looks like every other airport rental.”

“Then he’s going to fly out of Bangor.”

“I think so, yeah.”

A bit later they were proved right as the car they were following pulled into the airport on the outskirts of Bangor.

On the way Sean and Michelle had already made their plans. She parked and Sean climbed out of the truck.

He said, “Get back to Martha’s Inn and keep a lookout over Megan. I don’t want her ending up like Bergin or Hilary.”

“Call me when you know where you’re going.”

“Will do.” He pulled his pistol out of his holster and handed it to her. “Take this.”

“You might need it.”

“I don’t have a case for it to take on the plane. And me getting stopped by the cops and losing this guy won’t help us.”

He turned and started off.

“Sean?”

He turned around. “Yeah?”

“Don’t die!”

He smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

Only when he was out of sight did Michelle put the Toyota in gear and drive off. But she was clearly not happy about separating from him again.

DURING HER DRIVE back to Machias, Michelle had gotten a call from Sean at the airport. The man was on a six a.m. flight to Dulles Airport in northern Virginia with a connection in New York City. Sean had booked a ticket on the same flight.

“I caught a glimpse of his tickets. He’s in the third row on both legs. I snagged a seat in the back on both flights. The first is a Delta, the second a United. I’ll call you when we get in a little before noon.”

“Did you see the name on the ticket?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

He’d clicked off and Michelle had continued her drive. Around four in the morning she pulled into the dark parking lot of Martha’s Inn. Guests had a key that opened the outer door. She stopped in the kitchen and got a snack, then headed up the stairs. She stopped on the second landing when she saw a light on in Megan’s room. She knocked on the door. “Megan?”

The door opened a crack and Michelle eyed her. “Anything wrong?” she asked.

“I heard you drive up. I thought we could talk.”

“Okay.” Michelle parked herself in a chair by a small pine bureau. “What’s up?” she asked.

Megan was in green surgical scrubs, which she obviously used as pajamas. “Where were you guys? You just disappeared after we spoke this afternoon.”

“We had some sleuthing to do.”

“I thought you said you were going to protect me, but all you do is go off and I don’t hear anything until you come back.”

“Look, Megan, you have a point, but we’re doing the best we can with the limited resources we have. In fact, Sean is running down a lead now, but he sent me back here to keep an eye on you.”

“A lead where?”

“D.C., apparently.”

Megan sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry. I know you all are doing the best you can. It’s just…”

“Scary?”

“I didn’t really intend to do any criminal defense work when I came to work for Mr. Bergin. This case just got dropped in my lap.”

“But Sean is a terrific lawyer and he’s done lots of criminal cases.”

“But he’s not here right now. I’m trying to draft these motions but it’s not easy.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”

“Murdock came by to see me again.”

“What the hell did he want?”

“He seemed particularly interested in what you and Sean were up to.”

“I bet.”

“It seems with every step we take we get farther away from the truth.”

Michelle said, “But then one little piece falls into place and it’s off to the races.”

“You can’t count on that happening.”

“We try to make our own luck.”

“I guess.”

“Get some sleep. And how about we grab some breakfast around nine? We can talk more then. But right now I need some sleep.”

“Okay, but I’m going to lock my door and then slide the bureau against it.”

“Not a bad idea, actually.”

Michelle left the room and headed to her own. She yawned and stretched some kinks out, and then became fully awake. There was someone moving downstairs. At first she thought it might be Mrs. Burke, but the elderly landlady undoubtedly would have turned on a light in her own inn. Michelle crouched low and slipped over to the staircase, her pistol out. She focused on the movements downstairs.

It actually took a lot of energy to tread quietly. One had to hold his position, shift, and balance at optimal points.

Young. Fit. Trained.

Definitely not Mrs. Burke.

“Maxwell? Is that you?”

“Dobkin?”

“If you have your gun out, put it away. I don’t want to get shot accidentally.”

“Then stop breaking into places in the middle of the night.”

“I have a key. And I’m the police. I’m allowed.”

She holstered her weapon and came down the steps.

“Over here.”

He stepped in front of a window where the moonlight was coming through. Eric Dobkin was in uniform and looked anxious.

“Where’s your partner?” he said. “Upstairs?”

“No, he went out of town. What’s up?”

“Have you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“They found Carla Dukes dead about an hour ago in her home.”

THE PILOT EASILY HANDLED the swirling winds off the East River, and the plane touched down on the runway at LaGuardia right on time. Sean was one of the last passengers off but picked up his pace once he left the jetway and entered the airport. The man he was tailing was up ahead, walking at a leisurely pace. Sean slowed but kept him in sight. The flight attendant on the Bangor-to-New York leg had announced the number of their next gate, and the connecting passengers headed to it. They reached it; the flight was not yet up on the marquee because they had a three-hour layover before the short hop to Virginia.