Got it.
Cooper finished his meal, wiped his hands, and drove the truck across the street. The car salesman was the same as car salesmen everywhere: easy smile, quick to get personal, just delighted he’d dropped in. “I’m thinking of making the switch,” Cooper said, pointing a thumb at the Bronco. “Gas is killing me.”
“You’ll never look back,” the guy said. “Let’s take a walk, see what moves you.”
Cooper followed the guy around the lot, letting the patter wash over him. Mileage between charges, top speed, amenities. He sat in a sedan, ran his hands over the hood of a sporty two-seater. Finally settled on a miniature pickup with horsepower that made him snicker.
“I know,” the guy said, “she doesn’t look like much compared to that beast of yours. But she’ll go off-road, handle light hauling. A perfect work truck, and if you ever need something heavier, you can always hire it.”
The negotiations took ten minutes, and Cooper let the guy take him. When they were done, he said, “Mind if I use your phone to call my financing guy? My cell’s dead.”
“Sure thing,” his new best friend said, not quite hiding his delight. “Step into my office.”
His office turned out to be one in a line of desks in the open showroom. Not as private as Cooper might have liked, but private enough; salesmen weren’t supposed to sit down, and the other desks were abandoned. His guy gestured him to his own chair, then left him with assurances that he’d be nearby.
The number he’d memorized six months ago and never dialed. It rang twice, and then a voice answered, “Jimmy’s Mattresses.”
“This is account number three two zero nine one seven,” Cooper said.
“Yes, sir.”
“I need to talk to Alpha. Immediately.”
“Alpha, roger. Hold please.”
Cooper leaned back in the sales guy’s chair, the springs creaking. Out the front glass, he watched traffic pass, watched the clouds shift and change, rays of sunlight stabbing down from between them.
There was a click, and then Equitable Services Director Drew Peters said, “Nick?” The voice was familiar even now, quiet with the assurance of command. Cooper could picture him in his office, slim headset over neatly trimmed hair, the framed photos of targets on the wall, John Smith among them. Is my photograph on that wall as well?
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Are you all right?”
“Fine. I’m on-mission.”
“What was that scene last week?”
“What?”
“Don’t toy with me, son. On the El platform in Chicago. Do you know that civilians were shot?”
“Not by me,” Cooper said, surprised at the anger sloshing in his gut. “Maybe you better talk to your goddamn snipers.” He bit down on the instinctual sir.
“Excuse me?”
“I didn’t shoot anybody. And you’re welcome, by the way. For, you know, giving up my entire life and becoming a fugitive. You want to talk scenes? Okay. How about Chinatown?”
“You’re referring to the detention of Lee Chen and his family?”
“Shoplifters are detained. This was a tactical response team starting a riot and kidnapping a family. That little girl was eight.” Heard himself say was instead of is, hated himself for it. “What are you guys even fighting for?”
There was a pause. In a clipped, controlled voice, Peters said, “Are you finished?”
“For now.” Cooper realized how hard he was squeezing the phone and forced his fingers to relax.
“Good. First of all, by ‘you guys,’ are you referring to agents of the Department of Analysis and Response? Because you might want to remember that you are one.”
“I’m—”
“Second, that was your fault.”
“What?”
“You were spotted. What were you thinking? To pull that stunt on the El and then, that very same night, just walk down the street?”
“What are you talking about?” Replaying the night back in his head, the cool air, the Chinatown neon. He’d been wired, alert to any hint of recognition, had caught none. “No one saw me.”
“No. But Roger Dickinson ordered the entire Echelon II network tasked to randomly scanning the video feed from security feeds across the city. More than ten thousand of them. An ATM camera caught you and Ms. Azzi walking side by side through Chinatown. Once he had that, Dickinson pulled footage from every camera for half a mile. Putting it all together took a while, which is the only reason you weren’t caught.”
Cooper opened his mouth, closed it.
“Your rules, Nick. Your fault.” Peters didn’t raise his voice, and somehow that made the words hit all the harder. “You laid out the parameters in the first place, remember? You told me that the only way your plan would work was if we went all the way.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“It doesn’t matter if you meant it. All the way is all the way.”
Part of him wanted to scream, to bang the phone on the desk, to stand up and grip the chair and hurl it through the plate glass window into the Wyoming sun. But afterward nothing would have changed. Temper tantrums weren’t going to make the difference.
“Roger Dickinson, huh?” Cooper switched the phone again, wiped sweat from one palm.
“He’s certainly risen to the challenge.” Peters gave a brief, clipped laugh. “You may have been right about him wanting your job.”
“I should have anticipated the cameras,” Cooper said. “Damn. Damn, damn, damn.”
“You’re playing against thousands of people. I’d say you’re doing very well.”
“What happened to Lee Chen and his family? Never mind. I know the answer. Can you help them?”
“Help them?”
“They don’t know anything. Truly. He’s just a school friend of Shannon’s.”
“They harbored two of the most wanted terrorists in America. They got caught. They’ll face the penalty. They have to.”
“Drew, listen to me. The girl, Alice. She’s eight years old.”
There was a long pause. Finally Peters sighed. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.”
“Now. What’s your status?”
“I’m.” He took a breath, straightened his back. The anger that had seized him, it was easy to understand. Over the last few days, he’d seen the lie in a lot of the truths he’d held self-evident. But none of that mattered, not right now. “I’m calling because I’ve got my opportunity. I’m going after the target.” A minor risk; even if Smith had a world-class intelligence network, it couldn’t extend to the desk phone of a car dealership. “He dies tonight.”
“So you’ve really done it,” Peters said.
“I’m about to.”
“You have your exit strategy worked out?”
“I’ll jump off that bridge when I come to it. That’s why I’m calling. Just in case. I wanted you to know that I’m living up to our deal.” Cooper paused. “And I wanted to hear that you are, too.”
“Of course, son.” Peters’s voice rarely betrayed emotion, but Cooper could hear the hurt in it. “No matter what happens, I’ll do that. You’re a hero.”
“Kate—”
“Your daughter will never be tested. I’ve already taken care of the existing record, and taken measures to make sure that there will never be another. She’s safe. I gave you my word, Nick. Whatever happens, I’ll take care of your family.”
My family. He had a flash of that morning, months ago, whirling his children on the front lawn of their house. One of them clinging to each arm, the weight of trust and love tugging at him with a pull he never wanted to be free of. The green blur of the world beyond them.