Noah Boyd - Last Chance to Die

For my wife, Patti,

who has always grown stronger the more impossible things become

Before

KATE BANNON THOUGHT SHE WAS HAVING A NIGHTMARE, BUT ACTUALLY…

One

KATE BANNON OPENED HER DOOR. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

Two

THE BLACK TOWN CAR PULLED UP TO THE CURB IN…

Three

AFTER KATE HAD WALKED THE DIRECTOR OUT, SHE CAME BACK…

Four

WHEN THEY GOT TO THE CAR, VAIL SAID, “YOU KNOW…

Five

KATE LISTENED TO VAIL’S SHALLOW BREATHING AND FOUND IT REMARKABLE…

Six

IT WAS ALMOST 11 P.M. BY THE TIME VAIL CHANGED CLOTHES,…

Seven

KATE FOUND A PARKING SPACE NEAR THE MAIN ENTRANCE OF…

Eight

THE TALL, SLENDER MAN WITH THE SPLAYED NOSE SAT BEHIND…

Nine

WHEN THEY WALKED INTO THE OBSERVATION ROOM AT THE SIXTEENTH…

Ten

VAIL WAS SITTING AT THE KITCHEN TABLE WITH HIS INJURED…

Eleven

LUKE, DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND IGNORE THE STUFF ON…

Twelve

VAIL AND BURSAW SAT IN THE FRONT SEAT OF THE…

Thirteen

IT WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE AFTERNOON WHEN VAIL…

Fourteen

VAIL HAD GOTTEN IN ABOUT FOUR HOURS EARLIER, AFTER A…

Fifteen

SITTING IN THE BACKSEAT, KATE LISTENED TO KALIX AND LANGSTON.

Sixteen

THE THREE UNIT AND SECTION CHIEFS WERE ALREADY SEATED IN…

Seventeen

ONCE VAIL REACHED THE HIGHWAY, HE STAYED IN THE RIGHT…

Eighteen

THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT ASKED VAIL IF HE WANTED ANYTHING TO…

Nineteen

AT A FEW MINUTES BEFORE EIGHT THE NEXT MORNING, VAIL…

Twenty

JOHN KALIX WATCHED VAIL COME THROUGH THE GATE AFTER THE…

Twenty-One

AFTER MORE THAN THREE HOURS OF INTERROGATION BY THE ANNANDALE…

Twenty-Two

WHEN THEY GOT TO THE OFF-SITE, JOHN KALIX WAS PARKED…

Twenty-Three

AS BURSAW DROVE CAUTIOUSLY THROUGH THE CITY’S STREETS, VAIL ASKED…

Twenty-Four

THE PHONE RANG. BURSAW PICKED IT UP AND PUSHED THE…

Twenty-Five

THE FIRST GRAY LIGHT OF MORNING SEEPED INTO THE BEDROOM,…

Twenty-Six

BURSAW PARKED THE BUREAU CAR IN HIS SISTER’S GUEST PARKING…

Twenty-Seven

AS SOON AS VAIL REACHED THE OTHER SIDE, HE TOOK…

Twenty-Eight

KATE WAS THE LAST TO ARRIVE AT THE DIRECTOR’S OFFICE.

Twenty-Nine

IT WAS DARK WHEN KATE GOT BACK FROM THE PENTAGON.

Thirty

WHEN KATE CAME IN THE NEXT MORNING, SHE FOUND VAIL…

Thirty-One

WHAT!”

Thirty-Two

UNSURE WHERE IT WOULD TAKE THEM—AND NOT SURE SHE CARED—KATE…

Thirty-Three

AS THEY NEARED THE ADDRESS FOR MASTER SERGEANT LONGMEADOW’S APARTMENT,…

Thirty-Four

THE NEXT MORNING KATE PICKED UP AN ORDER OF STEAK…

Thirty-Five

THE SURVEILLANCE SQUAD’S OFF-SITE HAD BEEN CAREFULLY EELECTED. THE NEIGHBORHOOD…

Thirty-Six

AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, THE TWO MEN THAT…

Thirty-Seven

THE BLURRY LIGHT OF DAWN HAD COME UP JUST AS…

Thirty-Eight

IT WAS THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, AND KATE COULDN’T…

After

VAIL WALKED UP TO THE FRONT DOOR OF THE SIX TEENTH…

About the Author

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KATE BANNON THOUGHT SHE WAS HAVING A NIGHTMARE, BUT ACTUALLY SHE WAS dying.

Only her nagging self-awareness, even in this somnolent state, was forcing her to remember that she didn’t have nightmares. The frightening images had always been there—people shooting at her, falling endlessly from towering buildings, running through thicker and thicker sand to escape something unknown—but her reaction to them had always been as an indifferent observer, curious and analytical. If the “danger” persisted, she would simply tell herself it was a dream and wake up. And that’s what she had to do now, wake up and find out what was causing the chaotic images in her head.

She sat up and felt dizzy, the blood pounding in the top of her head. It hurt too much to be a dream. She felt nauseous and remembered driving home after the Thanksgiving Eve get-together at one of the local FBI watering holes with a large group of people from headquarters. She remembered having a glass of wine, and then a good-looking guy she didn’t know brought her a small glass of—what did he say it was?—Drambuie. She had never tasted it before and took a mouthful. Finding it too bitter for her liking, she set it down and didn’t touch it again. It must have been strong, because she soon started feeling woozy and decided to leave.

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she worked her feet into slippers and stood up. As soon as she was fully upright, she felt light-headed and had trouble balancing herself. With a hand on the wall, she started toward the kitchen. Walking left her short of breath. That couldn’t be from alcohol. That’s when she heard the low rumbling. She continued to the kitchen and saw that the door to the garage was open. Now she could clearly hear her car running.

Without warning, her knees started to buckle, and she realized that she was not suffering from what she had drunk but from carbon monoxide poisoning. Carefully, she stepped down the three stairs into the garage, which was filled with the haze of exhaust fumes. The car door was locked, and she could see the keys in the ignition.

The garage’s outside door was only a few feet away, and she lurched to it. Taking hold of the knob, she tried to turn it, but her grip failed her. She pushed on the door clumsily with her body weight but couldn’t rotate the knob far enough to open it. Even using both hands, she couldn’t get it to release. Next to the door, in a holder fastened to the wall, was a remote-control unit for the overhead door. She pressed the button, but nothing happened.

Beginning to panic now, she pressed it repeatedly, but still the door didn’t rise. She tried to remember the last time she had changed the battery, but her mind refused to focus on anything requiring memory. All at once she crashed to the floor, knocking over her small gardening caddy and scattering tools in every direction.

She tried to get up but could only manage to roll over on her back. Is this it? she asked herself. After all she’d been through as an agent, this was how she was going to die? Then she saw a white light coming from the six-inch-square window in the door and wondered if it was what so many people who approached death had reported. She fell back and let her eyes slide shut. Even with her mouth closed, she could taste the thick fumes in her throat.

The actual source of the light was a small flashlight held by a man standing outside, dressed in black. When she collapsed, he turned it off and pulled the two wedges from under the door that had jammed it closed against her efforts. Then he went to the front door of the residence and removed two more. Calmly, he put his hands in his pockets and walked back to a waiting SUV.

Lying there felt pleasant, euphoric, but then it occurred to Kate that the light was gone. Shouldn’t it be inside her head, too? She opened her eyes, and it was still gone. Did that mean the death sentence had been revoked, or at least delayed? Whatever it meant, she decided that she was going down swinging.

Next to her was a rake, its wooden handle thick and straight. Pushing up on all fours, she crawled to the rear of the car, dragging the rake behind her. The fumes were completely suffocating. She peeled off one of her slippers with its thin rubber sole and crammed it into the tailpipe. She was familiar enough with cars to know that the obstruction alone wouldn’t stop the engine as the movies depicted but would eventually be blown out by mounting pressure. So she stuck the rake’s handle into the tailpipe, forcing the slipper even farther into the exhaust.