‘All right, Mr. Wells,’ Quincy said, the formality for the benefit of the two other soldiers. ‘Let’s go see what we can find you.’
What we found was a Colt M16A4. As it happened, I had fired an M16 after I escaped from the Rothmanns’ camp, but I wasn’t going to bring that up. I reckoned the better I performed, the more likely Peter Sebastian would be to sanction our release, though that raised another question. If I was expected to use pistols and rifles, it was unlikely we’d be sent back to the U.K. Surely we weren’t going to be cut loose in the U.S.? Sara would have a field day.
Quincy took me and the others to the open-air range. ‘All right, Mr. Wells,’ he said, ‘you’ve got a thousand-yard lane in front of you.’ He checked with his binoculars. ‘The target is currently at 500 yards. Give me five shots there. Then we’ll go back a hundred yards each time till we hit 1000. Five shots at each stop, okay?’ He handed me a thirty-round magazine.
As soon as I slapped it home, I felt the other soldiers tense. I grinned at them and got down on the ground, resting the rifle on a sandbag. There were no telescopic sights, but I’d trained without them so I wasn’t worried. I pulled down my ear protectors again and got into the zone, breathing steadily.
Before I knew it, the magazine was empty and there was a dull ache in my right shoulder. By the time I got to my feet, Quincy had scoped the target.
‘Very funny, motherfucker,’ he said, this time paying no attention to the men behind him.
I tried not to laugh. ‘I thought you’d like it.’
He handed me the binoculars. I was impressed. Although the legs were a bit uneven, I’d managed to shoot a decent outline of the human form around the charging infantryman image on the target. The oversize heart that I’d put on the chest was unmistakable.
‘What was that Woody Allen film?’ I asked. ‘There was a loudmouthed black sergeant in that, too.’
Quincy Jerome gave me the eye big-time.
‘I remember. Love and Death.’
‘Asshole,’ said the big man.
The other soldiers only just succeeded in keeping their faces straight.
I decided to move things along. ‘Can I have a go with the shotgun now?’ I asked, pointing at the Mossberg.
‘No, Mr. Wells, you cannot,’ Quincy said, relieving me of the M16. ‘That isn’t included in your program.’ He turned away. ‘I just decided.’
I found Karen on the sofa, the laptop on her chest.
‘Guess what?’ I said, after I’d kissed her.
She gave me a languid glance. ‘You shot a perfect score?’
‘More or less,’ I replied, deflated. Then I had a worrying thought. Could my ability with the firearms have something to do with the Rothmanns’ conditioning? I had been a reasonable shot in the past, but I’d never done anything like I had on the range today. Maybe the same went for my unarmed combat skills. It wasn’t unlikely. The Rothmanns had trained people to become top-class warriors, as the mayhem in the cathedral in Washington had shown. Then an even worse idea came to me. What if the combat skills, lurking deep in my subconscious, actually freed up more trigger words formerly hidden? I decided not to share those fears with Karen.
Her due date was still a few days away, but the obstetrician had told us the baby could come any time. She preferred to be horizontal, even though the doctor recommended that she keep active, and she lost her breath easily. She hadn’t said anything, but I knew she was wishing things would get underway. Still, first babies were often latecomers-I remembered that from my daughter Lucy, nearly a week overdue.
‘What are you looking at?’
She pursed her lips. ‘Have you read about these murders?’
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Karen was a homicide detective at heart, despite the fact that she’d been working on financial crime before the kidnapping, and she wouldn’t let a little thing like childbirth distract her from her calling. I had seen the stories, which had become a lot more high profile with the poor woman in Boston, who had been stripped naked, defenestrated and daubed with the title of Adolf Hitler’s repulsive book.
‘The FBI isn’t confirming anything, but some reporters think there are now three in a series with hate crimes elements.’
‘The others being in Manhattan and north of Detroit.’
‘I might have known you’d be keeping up-to-date. Do you think the bastard Heinz Rothmann’s behind them?’
‘It’s not beyond the realm of possibility. There could easily be another brainwashed killer out there.’ Before the attack on the President, there had been a series of so-called ‘occult killings’ in Washington D.C., which were linked to the Rothmanns. There was no guarantee that all the conditioned subjects had been caught at the National Cathedral.
Karen closed the laptop and shifted her bulk gingerly. ‘Don’t you think it’s odd that Peter Sebastian is here rather than at his desk at FBI headquarters?’
‘Did he say something to you?’
‘Not about the murders, no. He was very interested in you, though.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, how you were getting on with Dr. Rivers and Sergeant Jerome, that kind of thing.’
Concern stirred in my gut. Then I saw how tired she was, her eyes drooping.
‘Screw Sebastian.’ I squeezed her hand. ‘Let’s get you to bed.’
‘Oh, no you don’t. You’ve forgotten something.’
I stared at her. It wasn’t her birthday-that was in March. I couldn’t think what she meant. ‘Er, is it the anniversary of your first murder case?’
She leaned forward with surprising speed and grabbed my nose between her thumb and forefinger.
‘Ow!’ I pulled free. ‘First time we had…I mean, made love?’ I asked desperately.
‘No!’ she said, laughing. ‘Come here.’
I moved cautiously back into her range.
‘Here.’ She patted her chest.
I laid my head there.
‘Bloody men.’ Her voice vibrated into my body. ‘Was I dreaming, or did you really ask me to marry you?’
‘Of course I-’
‘I know you did, Matt,’ she said, her tone lighter. ‘Don’t you think we should fix a day?’
I raised my head. ‘I though you wanted to wait until after Magnus arrives.’
‘I did. But I’ve changed my mind.’
I laughed. ‘Bloody women.’
‘Thirty days after he’s born,’ she said. ‘No matter what.’
I wondered if she knew what she was asking, given everything that could happen. In the end, it was easier to agree. I had no qualms about marrying her.
‘Thank you, Matt.’ Her face was wreathed in smiles. ‘Now I’ve got something to look forward to after all the pain and screaming.’
I kissed her. ‘Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.’
Karen seized my nose again. ‘There’s one more thing.’
‘What?’ I said, doing a passable imitation of a duck.
‘Where’s my engagement ring, you tightfisted bastard?’
I was saved by the doorbell. Peter Sebastian was standing outside with his baby-faced sidekick Bimsdale.
‘What?’
‘Charming,’ Sebastian said, his expression hardening. ‘I need you to come with us.’
‘I’m helping Karen to bed.’
‘This is nonnegotiable, Matt.’
I was tempted to slam the door in his face, but I had a favor to ask.
‘I’m all right,’ Karen said.
I grabbed my jacket and went out into the cold.
‘What’s the big deal?’
‘Rivers’ came the reply. ‘He needs an extra session of trigger identification every day. Starting now.’
Was it Rivers who wanted that or Sebastian himself? I let the thought go and concentrated on my number one priority.
‘Okay, but you owe me.’
The FBI men looked at me curiously.
‘Do you know any good jewelers?’