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Another operative squeezed the trigger of his Barrett M-82A1, firing a tungsten-tipped microchip into the spare tire attached to the truck’s undercarriage. He squeezed again, firing another round just as the two men lifted the roll-up door from inside and quickly returned to the second truck.

“Tracking,” Driggs said into his headset as the two inflight service trucks sped away.

It was five o’clock in the morning when Driggs called Hap. “We found her, but she’s under heavy protection and they’re moving her. We’re in pursuit.”

“They must have pieced the puzzle together just like we did. Or there’s been a leak at the FBI. Whatever you do, don’t lose her,” Hap said.

“We were able to tag the truck when it stopped,” Driggs said. “They’re traveling in two Rudy’s In-flight Cabin Services trucks on runway access roads to the other side of the airfield. We began seeing dozens of in-flight trucks about twenty minutes ago. She must have done something to make them stop the truck. If they hadn’t stopped, we wouldn’t have identified her.”

“Make sure she hasn’t been seriously harmed and then maintain visual surveillance until we extract her. If she’s in jeopardy, you know what to do,” Hap said, worried about why she was being moved. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t good.

Hap strode briskly into Wilson’s bedroom to report the news. “They found her,” Hap said, leaning over Wilson who was half asleep.

“Thank God,” Wilson jumped to his feet.

“She’s en route at the moment.”

“What? They’re moving her?”

“We have a tracking device on the truck. The team will use a thermal imaging camera to verify she’s unharmed. We’ll extract her at the first hint of danger.”

“Why are they moving her?” Wilson said as emotions welled up inside him.

“They’re clearly taking precautions. The fact that she hasn’t called again suggests they may have deciphered her clues. Just like we did.”

“How long does the FBI expect us to wait?”

Hap looked at his watch. “Simultaneous arrests are set for forty-eight hours from right now.”

“Have you talked to Kohl?”

Hap nodded slowly. “Her position is unchanged. If we extract Emily now, every member of the secret partnership will go into hiding. FBI surveillance will stop some, but not all. But she said it’s your decision.”

“I’m not sure I can wait that long.”

52

Wilson — Boston, MA

Three hours after Hap had awakened him with the news about Emily, Wilson sat in a meeting with Fielder amp; Company’s six vice presidents to launch the two-week transition period for establishing Malouf amp; Company as an independent firm. The mood among the vice presidents was somber, yet upbeat. They were finally taking action on a problem that had been tolerated for much too long; the remaining vice presidents seemed relieved that Malouf and Tennyson were leaving.

But Wilson barely noticed the nuances, his thoughts and emotions consumed by what was happening to Emily. Ever the consummate professional, he managed to go through the motions until all the major transition issues had been addressed and resolved. They agreed to reconvene again tomorrow.

By noon, Wilson was alone in his father’s office, pacing back and forth along the wall of windows. The last time he’d heard from Hap was over two hours ago. Emily had been taken to a warehouse near Princeton, New Jersey. Suddenly Hap marched into the office unannounced. Anne had become accustomed to the routine. “Emily’s fine,” Hap said in a high-energy voice. “She’s got a slightly overheated right cheek, but there’s no other indication of trauma.”

“Fucking bastards. What did they do to her? If we have the slightest indication that she’s being mistreated, I want her out,” Wilson said, eyes blazing.

Hap nodded his agreement. “We now have three teams, a total of twelve people, keeping her under surveillance. The number of people guarding her has increased from four to seven-three armed guards outside the warehouse, three inside, and a woman. They’re in constant contact with somebody. As of yet, we haven’t been able to decode their encrypted communications. But we remain confident that we can free her at any moment. We’ve also added another team to Brattle House and doubled the protection on your father.”

“What’s the absolute minimum time we have to wait?”

“After what Carter Emerson told the FBI this morning, I don’t think she’ll have to remain in custody for more than twenty-four hours.”

“Any change in her condition?” Wilson asked, incensed by the thought of her mental and emotional torment, not to mention the blow to her face.

“She’s tied down to a cot, blindfolded, and wearing earphones. She’s being fed regularly and has the opportunity to walk around every time she uses the bathroom.”

Wilson pressed his fingers into his scalp, trying to alleviate his splitting headache.

Hap waited a moment before responding. “My men already have orders to free her the minute they anticipate any mistreatment,” he said slowly and deliberately.

“And what about the mistreatment we can’t see? Goddamnit, Hap, we’re asking too fucking much of her.”

Hap waited a moment before responding. “I understand completely,” he said slowly. “Give me the word, and I’ll have her freed immediately.”

Wilson stared at Hap and then walked to the windows overlooking the Charles River. Emily’s words “never fear” from the voice message to her parents stuck in his head. Those words were meant for him and he knew it. She’d become more determined to fight than he was. If only I could talk to her right now, what would she say? Would she want to be freed immediately? Or wait for the FBI to capture its prey? It was an impossible dilemma, he thought. Risking another’s life, not to mention the life of the woman I love, based on what? Stratagem? Suddenly, it pierced him, as if Emily had spoken it herself. Destroy the bastards. “I want her rescued at the first sign of anything unusual, and I mean anything. And, I don’t want her moved again.”

Hap nodded, “You got it.” He immediately got on his cell phone to Driggs and relayed Wilson’s instructions.

When Hap was finished, Wilson asked, “What happened this morning with Carter?”

“At nine o’clock in William James Hall, room 105, after Federal couriers delivered the necessary assurances of immunity, Carter began briefing the FBI, the SEC, the Justice Department, the NSA, the CIA, partners from Ernst amp; Young and Booz Allen, and a few others no one would identify. The FBI had the place completely sterilized, but there wasn’t a hint of surveillance,” Hap said admiringly.

“Is this really going to work?” Wilson asked as he sat down in his father’s chair at the end of the gray stone table.

“Yesterday I wasn’t sure. But what happened this morning convinced me. The FBI performed brilliantly. I thought I had seen everything, but this tops it,” Hap said. “Even the guards in the hallways were dressed like grad students.”

“How many people?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“How did they arrange the meeting so quickly?”

“I asked myself the same question. They must have been scrambling all night.”

“Why Ernst amp; Young and Booz Allen?”

“Beginning tomorrow, those two firms will deploy approximately six hundred auditors and consultants, working around the clock, to verify Carter’s records and independently document eight years worth of stock market manipulations.”

“Why so many if they’re trying to keep things under wraps?”

“Only six seasoned project leaders know the full picture. They were the ones at the briefing. The work will be parceled out in segments to minimize leaks,” Hap said, his eyes dancing. “The more people involved, the harder it will be for anyone to see the full picture before the partnership is totally exposed. The FBI has done their homework on this one. They want to make sure an independent verification of Carter’s records is underway when they start asking federal judges to issue arrest warrants.”