Kelley Armstrong - Exit Strategy

Over lunch, we went through the plan with Evelyn, Felix and Quinn, and we all tried to poke holes in it. There were a few, but nothing that gave me any real cause for alarm. Finally, it was three thirty. Jack wanted everyone in position before the press conference.

Felix left me my radio, and showed me how to operate it. Quinn tried to stall, and I knew he wanted a private good-bye, but Evelyn took him aside to help her check on something.

They waited in the front room while Jack gave me last-minute instructions. Once they were out of earshot, he turned my way.

“You okay?”

I managed a weak smile. “As okay as I’m going to be.”

“It’ll be fine. Got everything covered.” His gaze shot to me. “Did, didn’t we? Everything covered?”

“It’s fine, Jack.”

“Things don’t go as planned? Get out. Don’t try a second time. Get him outside. Got Evelyn and Felix. Both good distance shooters. He runs? Got me and Quinn. Fast enough on our feet. Faster than him, at least.”

I nodded.

“You want me here? Maybe we could-”

“No. The plan makes the most sense as it is.”

We stood there, the silence thick and heavy.

“I know you don’t want me to do this, Jack.”

A moment’s hesitation. “No. No, I don’t.”

“What happened yesterday, it wasn’t-I was just-”

I stopped, realizing it would do no good to argue. He knew what had happened in that alley. If the lengths I’d gone to had surprised him, my motivation had not.

Yesterday he’d said he knew I wanted “it” bad, but didn’t realize how bad, how far I’d go. Now I understood what that had meant. All those times I feared I’d let the mask slide and my rage show, then seen his reaction-no reaction at all-I’d told myself I’d dodged the bullet, kept my secret. But if he hadn’t reacted, it was because he hadn’t been surprised, had already seen what drove me. Saw it, accepted it, let it be…until I almost got myself killed.

I remembered what Evelyn had said the night before, about another student. “Worst case of ‘fuck the world’ rage you’ve ever seen.”

I looked at Jack. “I won’t screw up again. All things considered, we both know I’m not the best person for this, but I won’t let you down.”

“Not worried about that.”

“Whatever you may think, I’m not suicidal.”

He rubbed his hand over his mouth. Then his eyes met mine. “I know what that’s like, Nadia. Lose everything. Everyone. It makes a difference. Not like you’d jump in front of a bullet. But things go bad? First thing people think? Who they’d leave behind. Parents, wives, kids…Don’t want to let them down. But if there’s no one there…”

“It’s easier to take that risk,” I said softly. “I won’t do it again, Jack.”

He nodded, gaze down, but had he looked up, I knew what I’d see. Doubt.

“I screwed up yesterday, on a whole lot of levels,” I said. “But I have it under control this time. I swear.”

He nodded. Hesitated. Opened his mouth to say something else, then Evelyn popped through the doorway. She saw us and stopped. A murmured apology, and she started to withdraw, but Quinn poked his head in, too.

“Jack? It’s almost ten to.”

Jack nodded. “Gotta run.”

“You can take another minute-” Evelyn began.

“Gotta be in position before Dubois gets here.” He looked at me. “Everything will be ready. It goes bad-”

“I bolt. You cover me. I got it.” I touched his arm. “I really do.”

He nodded, then everyone left. And I was alone.

Four o’clock, and the press conference, came very quickly. The furnished house had a television, so I tuned in. The conference took place in town, and was open to both media and locals. Wilkes would be there, if not in the audience, then close enough to overhear everything, anxious for firsthand news on his witness.

Dubois played his part perfectly. It started as a “no news to report” update, then he received an emergency call about the witness. After relaying the news to the press corps and the assembled audience of locals, he whispered something to the agent beside him, probably telling him to take over, excused himself and left.

I turned off the TV. Now my waiting began. Evelyn had instructed Dubois to get into his car and start driving. Felix would already be hidden in the backseat with the directions. Giving them to Dubois early would have been asking for trouble.

The route was as uncomplicated as we could make it, so Wilkes could follow. Dubois was instructed to “drive normally,” that is, not to speed and risk losing him, but not to go too slowly and look suspicious. He was presumably en route to meet a critical witness. He wouldn’t dawdle. Meanwhile, Evelyn would be tailing him, providing countersurveillance, should any agents or members of the press decide to follow Dubois. If they did, that could delay his arrival even more…if not permanently abort the plan.

Should everything work out, my cue would come when the front door handle turned, signaling that Dubois was there. Then he’d hurry back to the car, as if he’d forgotten something, and I’d be on, waiting for my big moment.

There was no sense trying to figure out how long it would take Dubois to get here. Overestimate and I’d be caught off guard. Underestimate and I’d start worrying that something had gone wrong.

I adjusted the police scanner in the living room. It wasn’t tuned to the frequency the Feds were using. Even if we could find that, we didn’t need to. The scanner was just a prop, set slightly off station so Wilkes could hear police-type chatter, but static choked out the words.

At four forty-seven the front door handle rattled. I stood poised in the living room doorway and blocked out the police scanner buzz as I waited for the next signals, as Felix had explained them to Dubois. First, he’d jangle the handle. Second, he’d open the door, just a few inches, then slam it shut again. Finally, he’d turn and walk past the front window, where I’d see him and know, if all three events occurred, that it wasn’t someone delivering pizza flyers.

The doorknob turned. It opened. And…

The clomp of footsteps, a firm one-two. Then the door clicked shut.

He’d come inside.

I tensed, fingers tightening around my gun. Had Wilkes figured out the right house before Dubois arrived? Jack had included that in his list of possibilities-the drawn blinds could give it away as soon as Dubois’s car slowed a few doors down. But to walk in the front door? That was ballsy.

The squeak of shoes. Following the siren’s call of the police scanner. Too late to back up to my post down the hall. No problem. You want contingency plans? Jack had dozens of them.

I ducked into the living room and crouched behind the entertainment stand we’d moved into position facing the doorway. I could aim my gun right through the opening above the TV, which was turned off so it wouldn’t attract Wilkes’s attention. He’d slip up to the doorway, and look at the recliner beside the scanner-

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Not moving very quietly, was he? He stepped into the doorway. My finger touched the trigger…

“Jesus Christ!” I hissed as I stepped from behind the stand.

A flicker of surprise as Dubois’s gaze slid over me, as if I wasn’t what he’d envisioned, then his face went taut.

“Change of plans,” he snapped. “This is my roust. You’re standing down.”

“The hell I-”

I swallowed the rest. Any moment now, that patio door could open and Wilkes could walk through. I glanced at the recliner and considered suggesting Dubois take a seat, provide me with a real guard to draw Wilkes’s first fire. The thought cheered me enough to push back the surge of frustration.