Jeff Abbott: Panic

‘What about Carrie?’

‘Her, too, if she wants to go with you.’

Evan closed his eyes. He did not sleep. He heard Bedford rise from the chair, cough, pour a drink of water, go talk on the jet’s phone, presumably to check on arrangements in Miami. Then Evan heard Carrie slide into the leather chair next to him.

‘So. You’ve gotten everything you want.’

‘Not quite yet.’ Kept his eyes closed.

‘The past day has been hell on me. I thought you were dead. I thought I had made a mistake, that I had failed to protect you.’

Evan opened his eyes, tilted his head close to hers. ‘I don’t blame you. I trust you,’ he said in a low whisper, his mouth a bare inch from hers. ‘So you should know I don’t have the files yet.’

Her eyes went wide. ‘But you told Bedford…’

‘I told Bedford I had the laptop, with the files on it. My hacker did crack the password on the laptop. But all the files are encrypted. My hacker hasn’t been able to break the encryption yet. He may not be able to. We could be at a dead end.’

‘So the laptop we have…’

‘Isn’t Khan’s. It’s just a new one, the same model, bought this morning in London. It’s my decoy, my fake-out. We put a program on it that will appear to reformat the hard drive if anyone attempts to crack the log-in password. My hacker has Khan’s laptop back in London, and he’s trying his best to unlock the files. But he hasn’t yet. So I’m trusting you. Tell Bedford and maybe he’ll break his deal with me to hide me and Dad. I’ll only give him the real laptop once Dad and I are clear and gone. And I mean, gone under our own terms. In identities we’ve set up. Once we’re gone, I don’t want Bedford or the Agency to ever find us. Ever. My family’s involvement ends now and forever. So, you have to choose, Carrie. If you want to come with me and Dad, you can. I want to be with you. If you don’t, if you want to stay with the Agency, that’s your choice. But I’m trusting you with this information.’

‘What if we can’t get your dad back or if Jargo has already killed him?’

‘I think my dad is Jargo’s weakness. I can’t be sure, but…’ Evan paused – remembering Jargo’s cryptic words the first time they’d spoken on the phone: We’re family, in a way, you and I; hearing Dezz’s taunt: We’ll all be like family – seeing two boys in a faded photograph who shared similar features. ‘I don’t think Jargo will kill him.’

‘He killed your mother.’

‘But Jargo could have killed him when he found out Mom stole the files, and he didn’t. He’s kept him alive, fed him a whole story about the CIA killing Mom.’

‘Will you give the CIA Khan’s laptop if your hacker can’t break it open?’

‘Yes. I still vanish, under my own terms, and I’ll arrange for Bedford to get the real laptop. Maybe the CIA can crack the encryption if we can’t. I don’t want Jargo running free. I want him taken down just as much as you do. If I die today, the hacker turns over the laptop to MI5 in London, with a letter explaining what’s hidden on the system.’

She looked at him, then looked at Bedford.

‘I keep wishing we had met in that coffee shop, just like regular people,’ Evan said, his voice a whisper. ‘That we had our dates and got to know each other, without you already knowing everything about me. That we built trust the way everyday people do. I trust you now. But you have to trust me.’

Not a moment’s hesitation. ‘I do.’

He put his arm around her. She closed her eyes, leaned into his shoulder. He closed his eyes, and this time he slept, heavily. When he woke up, she was asleep, nestled against his shoulder. For a moment the nearness of her broke his heart. Then the plane began its descent toward Florida, toward Fort Lauderdale.

I’m coming, Dad, and they won’t know what the hell hit them.

F lorida at midnight The air hung heavy with damp, the clouds blotted out the stars. The CIA jet shuttled to a remote hangar at the Fort Lauderdale/Hollywood airport, and two cars – a black Lincoln Navigator and a Lincoln Town Car – waited for the passengers. A woman and a man, dressed in dark suits, stood by the cars. The woman stepped forward as they approached.

‘I’m McNee, out of the Mexico City office. This is Pierce from HQ.’ She handed Frame their credentials. ‘Who’s Bricklayer?’

‘I am.’ Bedford didn’t introduce the others.

‘Sir, you have several calls to return… regarding the bombing in London yesterday. If you take the Navigator, you can talk privately.’ She gave privately the subtlest stress.

Frame nodded at Carrie and Evan. ‘They can ride in the Town Car with McNee and Pierce.’ He handed Carrie her Glock; they had all given their weapons to Frame before boarding the plane.

‘Do you have a piece for Evan?’ Bedford asked. ‘I don’t want him unarmed until our target’s in the morgue.’ As if he didn’t even want to say the word Jargo aloud, in a crowd.

‘You know how to use?’ Frame asked.

Evan nodded. Frame went to the Navigator, brought back a Beretta 92FS, showed Evan how to check, load, unload, and put on the safety. Evan put the gun inside the laptop bag and kept his grip on the decoy laptop. ‘I’d like to keep hold of the goods, if you don’t mind.’

‘Fine,’ Bedford said.

‘Where are we headed?’ Evan asked.

‘A safe house in Miami Springs. Near the Miami airport. Courtesy of the FBI. We told them we had a Cuban intel agent willing to defect,’ McNee said.

‘Then you’ll make your phone call,’ Bedford said.

McNee gave Evan a kind smile. ‘I promise when we get to the house, you’ll get a good meal. I like to cook.’ She popped open the trunk and Carrie and Evan put their luggage inside. Evan kept the decoy laptop clutched against his chest, as though it were the dearest object in the world to him, and McNee held the back door open for them. Pierce, the other CIA operative, got in the front seat.

They slid onto the cool leather of the backseat. McNee shut the door, got in the driver’s seat, and started up the car. ‘We’ll shake any shadows first.’ She powered up the dividing window between the front and rear seats so that Carrie and Evan could talk in private. Evan glanced back; Bedford was in the passenger seat of the Navigator behind them, already talking on a phone.

Evan stared out at the night. The air felt as warm as a kiss. Billboards, palm trees, and speeding vehicles flashed by. The two cars made a long series of turns and backtracks around the airport, stopping and checking and ensuring no one followed, and then McNee headed onto I-95 South. Even after midnight it was a busy highway.

They rode in silence for a few minutes.

‘You shouldn’t go to the rendezvous point,’ Carrie said.

‘I’m the bait.’

‘No. Your call is the bait. I don’t want you near Jargo. You can’t imagine… what he would do to you if he catches you.’

‘Or to you.’

‘He’d give me to Dezz,’ Carrie said. ‘I’d rather die.’

‘I’m going. End of story.’ Evan read the signs. I-195W to the Miami airport. McNee inched over into the right lane. But then she wheeled over fast, taking the 195 East exit toward Miami Beach.

He looked through the rearview window; Bedford’s Navigator swerved around two cars, horns blaring, staying with them, narrowly avoiding a pickup truck.

‘What’s wrong?’ Evan said.

McNee flashed a look in the rearview mirror, gave a shrug. She pointed at the wire in her ear, as if to suggest she’d been radioed new instructions.

Pierce – the CIA guy in the front seat – unhooked his earpiece, fidgeted with a frown. Then he slammed backward into the passenger door and slumped down. McNee raced around a truck, putting distance between her and the Navigator.