And then I knew.
Look at those IT guys. They’re here again.
I’d seen that logo before. On Monday, when I was leaving the building after being fired. Two unfamiliar contractors had been walking in, carrying a degausser. I’d assumed they’d been summoned to clean up my old machines. But could McKenna have picked the exact same uniforms for our cover, today? There was no way I’d buy that as a coincidence. Which meant it must have been McKenna’s guys on Monday, sneaking in to remove the virus.
Which meant McKenna was working for whoever had created it.
And then another one-two combination landed. Carolyn’s protection was in McKenna’s hands. And McKenna knew she’d found out about the virus.
Both because of me.
I’d trusted him with one, and told him the other.
Sunday. Mid-morning.
A WEEK EARLIER, I WOULDN’T HAVE KNOWN WHAT IT WAS. I still couldn’t tell you the brand. Or model. Or what caliber of bullet it fired. But by then, I at least recognized a gun barrel when one was jammed against my neck.
My fingertips froze, an inch from the van’s scuffed plastic door lever. McKenna completed the turn through AmeriTel’s fancy gate, then hit the gas. I drew my hand back onto my lap. My chance to jump out and run back to the safety of the building had gone.
No one spoke for the rest of the journey, but inside my head I was cursing myself. These guys weren’t Homeland Security agents. Peeper’s guys were. And it wasn’t like I’d been kidnapped and locked in a hidden basement. Peever had been in my home. I had his phone number. I’d been two feet away from him yesterday, hiding in the kitchen at the supermarket. But instead of throwing myself on his mercy, I’d run from him. And then set that stupid test. So what if he’d tracked the cell phone to Valhalla train station? All that proved was he had Homeland Security’s resources behind him. As an agent—and only an agent—would. My reasoning had been completely back to front.
I was an idiot.
Or was I? McKenna had been polite. Helpful. He’d kept rescuing me. Sharing information. Making me feel valued. That’s how he’d dug the trap. But I hadn’t walked into it on my own. Peever had tripped me, with his macho bullshit. He never missed a chance to push me around, or put me down, or try to throw me in prison for something I hadn’t done. He was an asshole. And if he’d kept his word and met me at the hotel, the mess would be swept up by now and Carolyn would be safe.
I’D ASSUMED WE’D HEAD BACK to the hotel, but it soon became obvious we were making for my house. My stomach turned over at the thought of the body I’d left in my bathroom, the last time I was there. I was still feeling queasy when we turned into my street and I saw my driveway was now sealed off with a lone, drooping strand of police tape.
“Come on, Marc.” McKenna pulled over to the curb and opened his door. “Time to get out.”
I climbed slowly down onto the sidewalk and was surprised when the van pulled away and continued down the street.
“Where are they going?”
“They have other things to do.” McKenna lifted the police tape and gestured for me to duck underneath. “It’s just the two of us now.”
I followed him down my driveway and saw that my Jaguar was still there, with remnants of gray powder around the door handles, the trunk, and over most of the interior. The fragments of broken license plate light were gone. And beyond the car, more police tape had been stuck across my front door, zigzagging its way from bottom to top.
“Have you got your keys?” McKenna asked.
“Only Carolyn’s.” I dug into my pocket and handed them over. “We’ll have to go around the back.”
MCKENNA UNLOCKED THE DOOR, pushed it open, and ushered me into my kitchen.
“The hiding place.” He stayed by the doorway. “Where you put the memory stick. Show me, please.”
“Here.” I stopped next to the loose section of counter. “This piece lifts up. The stick was underneath.”
“Show me.”
I pried the moveable part up about twelve inches, hinging the rear edge of the slab against the wall, and McKenna took a step forward so he could see the space underneath.
“Perfect.” He handed me the black box we’d used in the node room at AmeriTel. “Take this. Put it in. Then lower the countertop, but don’t let it go down all the way. Make sure it stays wedged up a little. I want anyone searching the room to see it. Don’t make it too obvious, though. I don’t want a neon sign pointing to it.”
I did what McKenna asked, then turned to face him.
“Thank you, Marc. Nicely done. Now please join me in the study.”
“Why?”
“We have some writing to do.”
I’D SAT AT MY DESK a thousand times, but always to use my computer. Not a pen and paper. And never with a gun trained on me.
“You know what?” I threw the pen down and turned to face McKenna. “I’m not doing this. If you’re going to shoot me, go ahead. I won’t make it easier for you. And it won’t work, anyway. No one will believe I’d ever kill myself.”
“Marc, you’re wasting time. Pick up the pen. I can dictate, if—”
McKenna’s phone beeped. He glanced at the incoming message, and a flash of annoyance crossed his face.
“What’s up?” I felt a flutter of hope. “Change of plan?”
“No. Just a delay with my ride out of here.”
“So we have some time? Long enough for me to see Carolyn? And say goodbye, properly? If you could let me have, maybe, a couple of hours—”
“Don’t insult me. And don’t ask for more time. You’ve had more, already. When I broke you out of jail? That’s when this was supposed to happen. And even then, it was your fault. I tried to help you. I gave you chance after chance to cooperate. But your greed wouldn’t let you, Marc. All this—your house, your car, your paintings, your marriage—it wasn’t enough for you. So you lied. You meddled. You pushed your luck so far my people lost patience with you.”
“Why not kill me yesterday, then?” I was desperate to keep him talking. “Why wait, to make it look like I planted the virus?”
“Because when Homeland Security checks ARGUS, they’ll find a ton of evidence—a ton, more than you could ever outrun, even if we let you live—linking you to half a dozen Syrians. Sleepers. They’ll be neutralized. And the United States will go on the offensive against the people they think tried to kill the President. You’re the last link in the chain. Now, write.”
I turned away from him, but left the pen where it was. The harder I tried to think, the slower my mind seemed to work. My last hope was fading away. Then I looked up at my Lichtenstein, and the spark of a new idea took hold.
“One last question.” I spun around in my chair. “Just out of curiosity. You know how your guys searched the house but missed the memory stick hidden under the countertop? I was wondering. Did they find the other one? Upstairs?”
“What other one?”
“The one I hid in the attic. In case the one in the kitchen was found.”
“What crap are you trying to pull here, Marc? You told me your wife handed over the last one.”
“I had some insurance, too.” I shrugged. “And now I’m curious. I thought I’d found a secure spot, but you can never be sure.”
“In the attic?”
“Your guys aren’t back yet. We’ve got time. I could show you …”
CRUSTY DROPLETS OF DRIED BLOOD were still visible near the bottom of the stairs, reminding me not to be too clever this time. I stepped over them, and led McKenna up to the second floor. And as soon as we turned toward my bedroom, I made sure I stayed between him and the wall.