Дэвид Балдаччи - The Escape

“I believe you. But what’s the point?” said Knox.

“When she said it, her micro-expression betrayed her. I was watching her reflection in a mirror I set up.”

“How did it betray her?” asked Puller.

“Her eyebrows were drawn upward, causing short lines across the forehead.”

“Characteristic of someone lying,” said Knox.

“She also touched her nose.”

“The nose?” said Knox. “Haven’t heard of that one.”

Puller said, “When you lie a rush of adrenaline to the capillaries in the nose causes it to itch. So people who are lying tend to involuntarily scratch it.”

Robert nodded. “Right. But I checked her c.v. Reynolds worked on interrogation teams in the Middle East extracting intelligence out of people, hardened people who did not want to give it up. She taught interrogation tactics as well.”

Puller said, “So she would know the micro-expression and that nose scratching when answering a question would signal a lie.”

Robert said, “Correct. And she knew I had training in reading faces as well. Many of us did at STRATCOM. And she must have seen the mirror I was using. But she screwed up, I just didn’t see it until later.”

“How?” asked Knox.

“Though I knew she was lying to me throughout, this was the only time she exhibited those indicators. She truly has impressive self-control.”

Puller said, “So when she answered, ‘Russia’?”

“She was actually telling the truth,” finished Knox.

“That’s what I think, yes. She was playing it too cute, actually. Often people who think they are more intelligent than anyone else do that. It would have been better if she had done the nose touching and micro-expressions throughout, to confuse me.”

“So if the Russians are involved in this, it must be big,” said Puller. “Whatever it is.”

Knox added, “In fact it seems over the last several years that Moscow has been able to read our collective minds. They seemed to be always a step ahead of us. In a million different ways.”

“Well, if they had Tim Daughtrey as a mole at STRATCOM allowing them a back door into our secure communications that’s quite understandable,” said Robert.

“I think Reynolds has been spying on us for a long time,” said Knox. “Maybe ever since her days on the START verification team. She could have been turned to their side during that time.”

“Where exactly do you want to do this?” asked Puller. “Her house is being watched. Donovan Carter told us that. So that’s out. If you want Bobby to tag along, we can’t confront her at DTRA, for obvious reasons. So that’s out.”

Knox held up her phone. “I’ve been having Reynolds followed.”

“Since when?” asked Puller.

“Since she got the upper hand on us at her house,” said Knox.

“And where is she right now? Did she leave the restaurant and go home?”

“No.” Knox stared at her phone screen. “She has another house. A cabin, actually, a ninety-minute ride west of here in Virginia.”

“And she’s on her way there?”

“She’s almost there right now.”

“A cabin?” asked Robert. “She must have a purpose for it.”

“She may use it as a safe rendezvous spot,” noted Knox. “And she might be meeting with whoever she’s partnering with on this. If so, I’d love to nail them all.”

Puller rose. “Then let’s get going.”

Knox rose too and put a hand on his arm. “But let’s get one thing straight. I’m running this op, not you, certainly not your brother. You will follow my lead at all times. Are we clear on that? Whatever it is, you will follow my lead.”

The Puller brothers glanced at each other. Robert nodded and then so did Puller.

Knox eyed them both for another long moment, seemed satisfied, turned, and led them out of the room.

John Puller muttered to his brother, “Why do I always end up running smack into the hard-ass women?”

“Heard that,” called out Knox.

PULLER DROVE WHILE Robert sat next to him. Knox was in the back giving directions while glancing at her phone screen from time to time. It was now quite late and they had left D.C. and the suburbs of northern Virginia behind. They could just make out the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains up ahead. Puller turned off the highway and the car continued to roll along on surface roads that grew increasingly rougher and narrower.

“How much farther?” asked Puller.

“Looks to be about ten minutes. I’ll tell you when we get close enough to ditch the car. We’ll go the rest of the way on foot.”

“Where are your folks who are tailing her?” asked Puller.

“Stationed to the north and west of the cabin but a hundred yards back, forming a perimeter.”

“How many are there, in case we need some backup?”

“Two teams of three. Loaded.”

“Well, let’s hope we won’t need them,” said Robert.

About six minutes later she had Puller stop the car and they pulled over to the side of the road.

Knox’s fingers flew over her phone’s keys but the text didn’t go. She stared at the loading bar on the screen. It seemed stalled halfway through the operation.

“Reception is shitty around here,” she complained. She punched in a number on the phone. It didn’t go through.

“I’ve got no bars,” said Puller, glancing at his phone.

“I don’t either,” said Knox. “Okay, we’ll just have to wing this. But there are three of us and only one of her.”

Puller gripped her arm. “This mission is too important to just wing it. We need reliable communication up here or else we could be divided and taken out one by one.”

“We’ll stick together as long as we can. Then we can figure out a way to communicate.”

“I don’t like this, Knox.”

“Are you telling me whenever you were in combat the conditions were perfect?”

“Of course not, combat is never perfect.”

“Then what did you do, soldier?”

“He adapted,” answered Robert. “And so will we. Let’s go.”

They climbed out of the car, their guns drawn. There were no homes on this road, which edged higher into a crevice between two of the foothills where the land flattened out. A fog had started to spread.

“The ground conditions aren’t great,” said Puller to Knox.

Robert said, “And keep in mind that, as Reynolds clearly pointed out to you both, she has guns and is really good at using them.”

“Especially long-range sniping,” said Knox grimly. “Olympic-caliber.”

“Well, then we can’t give her the chance to deploy that particular skill,” said Puller.

Knox led the way up the road, staring at her phone screen as she did so. Puller noted this and drew next to her.

“Memorize where we’re going, Knox, and then turn the damn phone off. It’s like a spotter beacon right into your chest.”

She nodded, did a quick but focused study of the screen, and clicked her phone off.

They moved up the road and then Knox led them to the right, over a stretch of ground that was uneven, rocky, and slippery. However, all three were surefooted and made their way across it without trouble.

They had progressed another five hundred yards when Knox held up her hand and stopped. The two men drew next to her. She pointed up ahead. In the distance about another hundred yards to the east they could make out a dim light.

“That has to be the cabin up there,” she said, pointing at the light. “It’s the only structure around here.”

Puller gazed around on all compass points before returning to the light.

His brother looked at him and said, “What do you think, Junior?”

“Junior?” said Knox staring at Puller. “That’s your brother’s name for you?”