Дэвид Балдаччи - Long Road to Mercy

“What?”

“We picked up a tail.”

“I wonder who.”

“Come on, Carol. You don’t need three guesses. The Society for Good is on our ass. Jeez, you wouldn’t think they’d be so obvious.”

“And what are you going to do about it? Lose them?”

“Not quite.”

“Why not?”

“I’d like some answers.”

Blum sat back in her seat. “Well, you always know just the right way to ask.”

The man following Pine and Blum turned down another road, keeping them in sight in the traffic.

The Kia made another left, then a right, and the man barely made a traffic light as he continued to follow them.

Then he lost the Kia for about a minute but then picked it back up again.

A few seconds later he watched as the Kia parallel-parked in an open space.

The man looked behind him and found a free spot. He backed up and pulled into it. He put the car in park and waited.

As he watched, Blum got out of the car.

The man checked his watch and settled back into his seat.

This lasted for only a moment before the passenger door was wrenched open and a gun was pointing at him.

Pine climbed into the seat and said, “I thought we’d just cut to the chase.”

The man looked from her to Blum, who was looking at him through the driver’s side window.

She waved at Pine and then climbed into the rear seat.

The man was the same one who had answered the door at the Society for Good and escorted them back to Fabrikant’s office.

“You can’t do this,” he said. “It’s illegal.”

Pine held out her badge. “This gives me the right to stop anyone acting suspiciously.”

“I wasn’t acting suspiciously.”

“Then what were you doing?” demanded Pine.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“I know Ben.”

Pine lowered her gun. “I’m listening. But first, what’s your name?”

“Will Candler.”

“Okay, Will, let’s hear it.”

Candler cleared his throat and gripped the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles shook. “He was into something. Something really dangerous.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Pine shot back. “And make it quick.”

“Ben was at the office one night late a while back. He looked so agitated that I asked him what was wrong.”

“And what did he say?” asked Blum.

“At first, he sort of blew me off. Said everything was fine, blah, blah. But I persisted. I told him I might be able to help. I’ve been in DC a long time. I’ve worked in a couple of administrations. I’ve got contacts. Plus, I’ve served in capacities all over the world.”

“So did he open up?”

“Some, yes. You have to understand that Ben kept all things very close to the vest. He has few friends, and his work is his life.”

“Yeah, I know, it trumps his family, too.”

“Anyway, Ben didn’t go into much detail but he said something unbelievable was being planned. And that if it actually came off, there would be global implications. I gather that Ben was trying to stop it from happening.”

“But he never told you exactly what it was?” asked Pine.

“No.”

Blum said, “But if Ben Priest found out about this, wouldn’t those behind the plot know? They wouldn’t attempt it now.” She looked at Pine. “Would they?”

Candler said, “I don’t know. I’ve found that people in power can be incredibly insulated and therefore unrealistic about what they can accomplish.”

“Meaning they’re stupid drunk with power,” said Blum.

“A more accurate phrase, yeah.”

Pine thought back to the Army chopper that had set down in Arizona and lifted off a few minutes later with the injured Priest brothers on board. Then the Russians at Ben Priest’s home. The “feds” at Simon Russell’s house. And finally, Sung Nam Chung, a Korean turned international killer. If a coup was being planned, who was doing what to whom? And who was Chung working for?

Blum said, “There must be something we can do.”

Candler shook his head. “I’m a scholar, not Jason Bourne.”

Pine said, “Thanks for the information. If you think of anything else, here’s a number where I can be reached.”

She wrote her phone number down on a slip of paper and handed it to him.

As they were climbing out of the car, Candler said, “Look, there is one more thing.”

“What’s that?” asked Pine quickly, ducking her head back inside.

“Mr. Fabrikant left right after you did. I heard him mention he was going somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I couldn’t hear that part. But I checked with his secretary. She makes all his travel arrangements.”

“Did she know?”

“Yes, she did. She said it was sudden. He popped into her office right after you left.”

“Where is he going? Please don’t tell me North Korea.”

“No. He’s flying to Moscow. Tonight.”

All of the flights from the DC area to Moscow left out of Dulles International Airport. There were two flights out that night: a Lufthansa flight and a Turkish Airlines flight.

Pine was covering the Lufthansa gate, while Blum was watching the Turkish Airlines departure area. Pine had tried to simply use her badge to get them through the TSA checkpoint. But the personnel there had demanded to see her ID, and Blum’s as well.

As they walked through the airport Pine said, “Okay, we might have just blown our cover. Either of us sees anything screwy we text the other, okay?”

“Roger that,” said Blum.

The Lufthansa flight left at ten thirty and its Turkish counterpart at eleven on the dot. Pine figured Fabrikant would opt for the Lufthansa flight, because it came with one layover in Munich before a connecting flight took him to Domodedovo Airport outside of Moscow. The Turkish flight overall was hours longer, although it would fly into Vnukovo Airport, which was closer to Moscow than Domodedovo Airport was.

She checked her watch and gazed at the crowd seated in the departing gate area.

For a disguise, she had on a ball cap and a pair of reading glasses she’d bought at one of the airport shops. Blum had gotten a hat and glasses, too. Pine was pretending to read a book that she had also purchased at the shop.

A minute later Pine smiled. She had guessed right, because Oscar Fabrikant was marching down the middle of the concourse carrying a small duffel in one hand and a briefcase in the other.

Pine texted Blum, put her book down, took off her glasses, rose from her chair, and started walking toward Fabrikant. She took out her phone and the card he’d given her and dialed his cell phone.

She watched as he quickly searched through his pockets, pulled out his phone, and looked at the screen.

“How about we do some face time instead,” she said, coming to stand in front of him.

He visibly flinched when he looked up and saw her. He put his phone away.

“Well, well, what a coincidence,” Pine said. “You’re running and I’m hunting.”

Fabrikant turned and started walking rapidly away from her, until he saw Blum approaching from the other direction.

He stopped, and his diminutive frame seemed to melt into the airport floor tiles.

Pine reached him, gripped his shoulder, and turned him around to face her.

“Moscow? Really? Care to explain?”

He looked around as Blum arrived.

He said stiffly, “Not now. Maybe when I get back, if I’m so inclined.”

Pine pulled out her badge. “You’re going nowhere. You’re officially detained.”

“You have no grounds to detain me. It’s not against the law to travel to Russia. So if you will excuse me.”