Дэвид Балдаччи - Long Road to Mercy

“Only this position would be far more prestigious, a kick up in the GS level, and a lot more money in your wallet.”

“I didn’t join the FBI to get rich. And I could give a damn about prestige.”

“I’m not sure you understand. They want you in DC. At the highest levels.”

“And I decline.”

Now Tillman dropped all pretense of civility. “You think you’re something, don’t you? Because of what you did,” he added with a snarl.

Pine looked over at the two indentations in the wall and was sorely tempted to add a third. “I tell you what, Walt. The day your guys get their shit together to my satisfaction, I’ll think about it. But I won’t be stupid enough to hold my breath on that. Anything else?”

“No, that’s about it,” he said sullenly.

“Good, because I have someplace to go. Ms. Blum will show you out.”

As though she had been listening against the wood, the door opened and there was Blum.

Pine took her pistols out of her drawer and slipped them into her twin holsters. She grabbed her dark jacket off the chair, and, passing by Tillman without a word, said to Blum, “I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

“Safe travels, Special Agent Pine.”

Pine left the office.

Down in the garage, Pine put on her sunglasses, took the car cover off, and stowed it in the trunk.

She fired up the Mustang and drove out into the sunshine.

She had a long drive ahead of her, and she was looking forward to every mile and minute of it.

The vintage car roared along, its big block V-8 eating up the highway as she went from Arizona on a diagonal through the southeastern corner of Utah, where she followed the flow of the Colorado River for a bit before cutting east and entering the Rocky Mountain state.

She stopped only once, for a restroom break and some dinner, which she ate in her car, looking at the stars swarming the big sky.

She held up her bottle of water and said, “See you soon, Sam.”

Pine drove on, timing it so she arrived at ADX Florence about ten minutes before midnight. She got out of her car, slipped on her jacket, and clipped her FBI badge to her belt.

By the time she cleared security and was being escorted down the corridor to the visiting room, it was one minute to midnight.

She sat in the same seat and looked through the same wall of polycarbonate glass, awaiting his arrival.

Just like last time a half-dozen guards brought Daniel James Tor to her.

They chained him down and left, waiting just outside as before.

Tor popped his neck, placed his manacled hands in front of him, and eyed her curiously. And she figured he had to be curious, since he had agreed to see her again.

She reached into her pocket and took out the picture.

She looked at it for a moment.

The image of Mercy gazed back at her.

Pine placed it against the glass so that Tor could see Mercy staring back at him.

“Where’s my sister?” she said.

To Michelle, this book has a crackerjack female character who can eye roll with the best, which I know you will appreciate.

To Michael Pietsch, for going above and beyond.

To Lindsey Rose, for never, ever missing a single beat.

To Andy Dodds, Nidhi Pugalia, Ben Sevier, Brian McLendon, Karen Kosztolnyik, Beth deGuzman, Albert Tang, Brigid Pearson, Elizabeth Connor, Brian Lemus, Jarrod Taylor, Bob Castillo, Anthony Goff, Michele McGonigle, Cheryl Smith, Andrew Duncan, Joseph Benincase, Tiffany Sanchez, Morgan Swift, Stephanie Sirabian, Matthew Ballast, Jordan Rubinstein, Dave Epstein, Rachel Hairston, Karen Torres, Christopher Murphy, Ali Cutrone, Tracy Dowd, Martha Bucci, Rena Kornbluh, Lukas Fauset, Thomas Louie, Sean Ford, Laura Eisenhard, Mary Urban, Barbara Slavin, Kirsiah McNamara, and everyone at Grand Central Publishing, for continuing to reach higher and higher.

To Aaron and Arleen Priest, Lucy Childs, Lisa Erbach Vance, Frances Jalet-Miller, John Richmond, and Juliana Nador, for always being by my side.

To Mitch Hoffman, for pushing me on this book to such an extent that it went to ELEVEN ( Spinal Tap reference!) on the final version.

To Anthony Forbes Watson, Jeremy Trevathan, Trisha Jackson, Katie James, Alex Saunders, Sara Lloyd, Claire Evans, Sarah Arratoon, Stuart Dwyer, Jonathan Atkins, Anna Bond, Leanne Williams, Natalie McCourt, Stacey Hamilton, Sarah McLean, Charlotte Williams, and Neil Lang at Pan Macmillan, for being the best in the business. Can’t wait to see the new digs!

To Praveen Naidoo and the team at Pan Macmillan in Australia, for raising your game with every book.

To Caspian Dennis and Sandy Violette, for being such great advocates and friends. Our tour-end annual dinner is something I always look forward to. Knickerbocker sundaes all around!

To Steven Maat and the entire Bruna team, for leading the way in Holland.

To Bob Schule, for your stellar work on reading through the manuscript.

To Mark Steven Long, for copyediting.

To my good friend Dr. Dana Ericksen, for all the hiking info on the Grand Canyon. The Heineken scene was for you, my friend!

To FBI Special Agent (retired) Bob Ulmer, for providing me with a ton of great information about the Bureau. And to his daughter Wendy Noory, for putting us in touch.

To Dana Schindler, for getting me great research sources, and being a wonderful friend.

To Anne and Paul Buellesbach, for sharing with me all your mule-riding adventures and cool information on the Canyon.

To charity auction winners Carol Blum (Amelia Island Book Festival’s Authors in Schools), Sung Nam Chung (Robert F. Kennedy Human Rights), Colson Lambert (Project Kesher), and David Roth (The Mark Twain House & Museum), I hope you were suitably thrilled with your characters. And thanks for supporting such great causes.

To Benjamin Priest, with a belated bar mitzvah gift.

To Michelle Butler, for helping to make Columbus Rose a lean, mean writing machine!