Cooper moved down the aisle and stepped into the office proper. He could see clear across it in all directions. The studio took up a corner of the building, the exterior walls glass from floor to ceiling. With the overhead lights on, they were dark mirrors, bouncing the space back upon itself. In the precise center of the office there was a long conference table surrounded by chairs.
Beside it stood Drew Peters and Roger Dickinson.
Cooper strolled forward. Calm and steady. Taking his time; the longer he could stall, the longer Shannon would have.
Dickinson looked the same as ever. Handsome, good posture, an alert readiness. His right hand was itching to jerk the pistol from his shoulder holster.
“Hello, Nick,” Peters said. For the first time, Cooper noticed that Peters had a rodent-ish look. Something in his neat bearing and small mouth, his rimless glasses. The briefcase he’d been carrying sat on the table in front of him. “Nice to see you again.”
The conference space was wide open. Cooper walked to the table. Stood opposite the two of them.
Remember, they don’t know that you know, or that you have help. If they suspect either of those things for a second, this all comes crashing down. “Where’s my family?”
“They’re nearby.”
“Not good enough.” He took a step back, eyes forward.
“I’ll prove it to you,” Peters said, “but I’ll need you to put down your gun.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Of course you do. But it’s okay. I’ll go first.” Peters reached for the briefcase, opening it slowly. The inside of the lid was a monitor, which glowed to life. The screen held white for a moment, then cut to a video feed.
Natalie sat in a leather chair at one end of a small room, Todd to her left, Kate to her right. The kids had pads of paper in front of them and appeared to be drawing. Kate, younger, was lost in it, but Natalie was leaning into Todd, trying to encourage him. Distracting them, Cooper realized, trying to keep them calm. The wall behind them was glass, the Capitol dome glowing in the distance. The two gunmen stood nearby, weapons out. One looked at the camera, the other at Natalie.
“That’s quite a woman you divorced, Nick. A wonderful mother. And your children. Beautiful.”
Cooper stared at the image, at his children, the reasons for every action he’d taken. Reason enough to set the world on fire. Natalie glanced up, directly into the monitor, as if she was staring at him.
How?
The camera, he realized. They would have set that up in front of them, and she was smart enough to know it would be for his benefit. It wasn’t “as if” she was looking at him; she was staring at him. The look in her eyes a plea. Not for her, but for Kate and Todd.
A plea, and something else. What?
“Now. Your gun. Gently, please.”
It wasn’t that Natalie’s eyes moved. They didn’t. It was that she thought about moving them, thought about flickering them to the left. That thought translated into the tiniest subdermal motion, the kind of thing he could see.
The kind of thing she knows you can see.
She’s giving you a hint.
Warmth bloomed in his chest. The women in his life were amazing.
“All I see is a conference room with the Capitol in the background,” he said. “They could be anywhere.”
“Let’s not play games, Nick. You know how far I’m willing to go. Your gun.”
In his ear, Quinn said, “Checking.”
Cooper hesitated as if thinking about it. Then, slowly, he reached around his back and took out the pistol. Dickinson tensed, a coiled spring begging to explode. Using just his thumb and forefinger, Cooper set the weapon down and pushed it to slide across the table.
Quinn said, “Got it. Suite 508. The conference room is in the southeast corner.”
Shannon said, “On my way.”
Cooper said, “There. Now how about Roger does the same?”
Dickinson laughed. Peters gave his thin smile. “I don’t think so. We’re both aware of your abilities. Now, where’s the drive?”
“It’s safe.”
“How nice to hear. Where?”
“If I tell you, how do I know you won’t kill them anyway?”
“You have my word.”
“That’s not carrying as much weight with me as it used to, Drew.”
“It’s going to have to do. I told you, you’re not in a position to negotiate. Give me what I want and I’ll let you all go.”
Dickinson said, “I bet it’s in his pocket. Let me take him.”
Shannon said, “Nick, I’m in the office, outside the conference room. Going now.”
“No, Roger.” Peters paused. Then he said, “Shoot Cooper’s son on the count of three.”
On the monitor, one of the guards raised his gun, pointed it at Todd—
The guards can hear him.
The speakerphone. The call light is on. They’re listening in.
Shannon is stepping into that room now. She can take the guards…unless Peters or Dickinson yell a warning from up here.
Which they will if they’re watching the monitor.
—as Peters said, “Three. Two.”
“Okay!” Cooper took a quick step forward, and both Peters and Dickinson jumped, turned their full attention on him. “I’ve got it here.” He reached in his pocket, felt the slim profile of the stamp drive. He didn’t want to risk losing hold of it, even for a moment. It was the only proof he had of the monstrosity he had helped create. Once he let it go, everything could change. The only chance for some sort of justice could vanish.
It’s justice or your children.
Cooper pulled the drive from his pocket. It took all his effort not to glance at the monitor. His children, helpless, and him up here, powerless, and Dickinson right there, hungry, his hand already flexing. Cooper kept his fingers curled around the drive, didn’t let them see it. They wouldn’t risk making a move until they were sure he wasn’t bluffing. He held the moment as long as he dared, his heart pounding. Stepped forward, lowered his hand over the table. Opened his fingers.
The drive fell to the table.
Peters zeroed in on it, eyes hungry and triumphant.
A flash of movement on the monitor. Cooper told himself not to look, but it was too late, his gift beyond his control, needing data, reading situations.
Dickinson staring at him. Tracking his eyes. Following them.
They both watched as, on the monitor, Shannon threw an elbow into the throat of a gunman.
To the guards, Dickinson yelled, “Kill them!” as his hand flew inside his jacket.
Cooper spun and bolted for the nearest cubicle, leaving the drive on the table. A shot from behind, and drywall exploded. He kept moving, feeling Dickinson tracking him, firing again and again, not quite catching him, and then he was out of sight behind a low cube. He dropped to his knees and quickly crawled for the next one, bullets punching through the fabric walls.
Peters will go for the drive.
Nothing he could do about that. The conference room would be lethal. He wasn’t a superhero who could dodge bullets. Being able to see where someone intended to shoot gave him a leg up, but against a professional like Dickinson, in an open space, it wouldn’t be enough.
Had Shannon taken out both gunmen? No way to know, and no time to wonder. There was another shot, and another ragged hole blown in a fabric wall. A monitor exploded.
Cooper stayed low, hurried along the aisle between the cubicles. Pictured the floor plan, trying to place himself on it. The design studio was large, maybe fifty employees. The open plan meant that if he stood up, Dickinson would be able to see him. On the other hand, if he didn’t stand up, his own gift was nullified. Without being able to see what was going on, he was just prey, scurrying from cover to cover.