Harlan Coben - Gone for Good

McGuane pressed a button that automatically erased and reformatted the computer files. Nothing would be found. McGuane automatically backed up via email. Every hour, the computer sent an email to a secret account. The files thus stayed safely in cyberspace. Only McGuane knew the address. He could retrieve the backup whenever he wanted.

He rose and straightened his tie as Pistillo burst through the door with Claudia Fisher and two other agents. Pistillo pointed his weapon at McGuane.

McGuane spread his hands. No fear. Never show fear.

"What a pleasant surprise."

"Where are they?" Pistillo shouted.

"Who?"

"Joshua Ford and Special Agent Raymond Cromwell."

McGuane did not blink. Ah, that explained it. "Are you saying that Mr. Cromwell is a federal agent?"

"I am," Pistillo barked. "Now, where is he?"

"I'd like to file a complaint then."

"What?"

"Agent Cromwell presented himself as an attorney," McGuane went on, his voice even as could be. "I trusted that representation. I confided in him, assuming that I was protected by attorney-client privilege. Now you tell me that he is an undercover agent. I want to make sure that nothing I said is used against me."

Pistillo's face was red. "Where is he, McGuane?"

"I don't have the slightest idea. He left with Mr. Ford."

"What was the nature of your business with them?"

McGuane smiled. "You know better than that, Pistillo. Our meeting would fall under attorney-client privilege."

Pistillo wanted so very much to pull the trigger. He aimed at the center of McGuane's face. McGuane still showed nothing. Pistillo lowered the weapon. "Search the place," he barked. "Box and tag everything. Place him under arrest."

McGuane let them cuff him. He would not tell them about the surveillance tape. Let them find it on their own. It would have that much more impact that way. Still, as the agents dragged him out, he knew that this was not good. He did not mind being brazen as mentioned earlier, this was not the first federal agent he'd had killed but he could not help but wonder if he had missed something, if he had left himself somehow exposed, if, at long last, he had made a crucial mistake that would cost him everything.

The Ghost stepped into the woods, leaving Katy and me alone. I sat in my chair and stared at the lasso around her neck. It was having the desired effect. I would cooperate. I would not risk having that rope tighten around the neck of that frightened girl.

Katy looked at me and said, "He's going to kill us."

It was not a question. It was true, of course, but I still denied it. I promised her that she would be okay, that I would find a way out, but I don't think I assuaged her worries. Little wonder. My throat was feeling better, but my kidney still ached from the punch. My eyes moved about the room.

Think, Will. And think fast.

I knew what was coming up. The Ghost would have me set up the meeting. Once Ken showed up, we were all dead. I thought about that. I would try to warn my brother. I would try to use some kind of code maybe. Our only hope was that Ken would smell a trap and surprise them. But I had to keep my options open. I had to look for a way out, any way out, even if it meant sacrificing myself to save Katy. There would be an opening, a mistake. I had to be ready to exploit it.

Katy whispered, "I know where we are."

I turned to her. "Where?"

"We're in the South Orange Water Reservation," she said. "We used to come here and drink. We're not far from Hobart Gap Road."

"How far? "I asked.

"A mile maybe." "You know the way? I mean, if we make a run for it, would you be able to lead us out?"

"I think so," she said. Then, with a nod: "Yeah. Yeah, I could lead us out."

Okay, good. That was something. Not much maybe, but a start. I looked out the door. The driver leaned against the car. The Ghost stood with his hands behind his back. He bounced on his toes. His gaze was turned upward, as if bird-watching. The driver lit up a cigarette. The Ghost did not move.

I quickly scoured the floor and found what I was looking for a big hunk of broken glass. I peeked out the door again. Neither man was looking. So I crept behind Katy's chair.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"I'm going to cut you loose."

"Are you out of your mind? If he sees you "

"We have to try something," I said.

"But" Katy stopped. "Even if you cut me free, then what?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But be ready. There'll be a chance to escape somewhere down the line. We have to take advantage of it."

I pressed the broken edge against the rope and started sawing back and forth. The rope began to fray. The work was slow. I hurried the pace. The rope started giving way, strand by strand.

I was about halfway through the rope when I felt the platform shake. I stopped. Someone was on the ladder. Katy made a whimpering sound. I rolled away from her and made it back to my seat just as the Ghost entered. He looked at me.

"You're out of breath, Willie boy."

I slid the broken glass to the back of my seat, almost sitting on it. The Ghost frowned at me. I said nothing. My pulse raced. The Ghost looked toward Katy. She tried to stare back defiantly. She was so damn brave. But when I looked toward her, the terror struck me again.

The frayed rope was in plain sight.

The Ghost narrowed his eyes.

"Hey, let's get on with this," I said.

It was enough of a distraction. The Ghost turned to me. Katy adjusted her hands, giving the frayed rope some cover. Not much if he looked closely. But maybe enough. The Ghost waited a beat and then he went for the laptop. For a second for the briefest of seconds he turned his back to me.

Now, I thought.

I would jump up, use the broken glass like a prison shiv, and jam it into the Ghost's neck. I calculated quickly. Was I too far away? Probably. And what about the driver? Was he armed? Did I dare?

The Ghost spun back toward me. The moment, if there had ever been one, was over.

The computer was already on. The Ghost did some typing. He got online with a remote modem. He clacked some more keys and a text box appeared. He smiled at me and said, "It's.time to talk to Ken."

My stomach knotted. The Ghost hit the return button. On the screen, I saw what he had typed:

YOU THERE?

We waited. The answer came a moment later.

HERE.

The Ghost smiled. "Ah, Ken." He typed some more and hit the return.

IT'S WILL. I'M WITH FORD.

There was a long pause.

TELL ME THE NAME OF THE FIRST GIRL YOU MADE OUT WITH.

The Ghost turned to me. "As I expected, he wants proof it's really you."

I said nothing, but my mind raced.

"I know what you're thinking," he went on. "You want to warn him. You want to tell him an answer that's close to the truth." He moved over to Katy. He picked up the stick end of the lasso. He pulled just a little. The rope coiled against her neck.

"Here's the deal, Will. I want you to stand up. I want you to go over to the computer and type in the correct answer. I'll keep tightening the rope. If you play any games if I even suspect you tried to play any sort of game I won't stop until she's dead. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

He tightened the lasso a little more. Katy made a noise. "Go," he said.

I hurried to the screen. Fear numbed my brain. He was right. I had been trying to come up with a decent lie, something to warn him. But I couldn't. Not now. I put my fingers on the keys and typed:

CINDI SHAPIRO

The Ghost smiled. "For real? Man, she was a little hot tie Will. I'm impressed."

He let go of the lasso. Katy released a gasp. He moved back over to the keyboard. I looked back over at my chair. The broken glass was in plain view. I moved quickly back to my seat. We waited for the response.