And she turned.
“I’ll be out of your way in a second.”
“I did it.”
He studied her face, set the beer aside. “You finished the program.”
“Yes. It works. Theoretically. I’ve tested it several times. I can’t actually run it into the network until it’s time, so I can’t be absolutely certain. But I am. Certain it will work.”
He grinned, came over, boosted her up by the elbows for a kiss. “You’re a genius.”
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t you look happy?”
“I am. I’m … numb, I think. I believed I could do it, but when I did, I realized I hadn’t really believed I could do it.” Because it ached a little, she pressed her fingers to her left temple. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Brooks. I can take down their network, corrupt every file, every program. I can shut them down, no matter what operating system or computer any individual uses. I can do it, and, doing it immediately after I siphon the funds, they’ll be ruined. Broken.”
Now she pressed her hand to her heart. “And before I do that, I can give the authorities enough to shut down a string of operations, use that to prosecute other lieutenants and soldiers, until the Volkov bratva is in pieces they can never put back together.”
“Humpty Dumpty them.”
She let out a breathless laugh. “Yes. Yes. I didn’t really believe I could do it,” she murmured. “If I had, I’d have done it before I agreed to testify.”
He kept his face blank. “Do you want to step away from that?”
“You’d let me.” As he often did with her, she framed his face in her hands. “I love you so much. You’d let me step away, even though it’s against your code. But no, I won’t. I can’t. It’s part of the whole, part of who I want to be. Part of who you expect me to be.”
“I only expect you to be who you are.”
“I expect more now. I expect more of Elizabeth. I expect more of Abigail. And I want you to expect more of me now. My testimony, my data, the hacking, the supervirus. It’s all one. When it’s finished, Elizabeth can go with a clear conscience.”
She closed her eyes, then opened them, smiled into his. “And Abigail can marry you with one. I want to marry you so much. I might even want to go to a wedding boutique.”
“Uh-oh.”
“I’m a little afraid of it, but I might.”
“Now you look happy.”
“I am. I’m very happy. As soon as we find a hotel, I could arrange for transportation. We could have your captain set up the meeting. We could start the next stage.”
“I’ve got the hotel. In Tysons Corner, Virginia. Middle-range, right off the highway.”
“I’d like to see the hotel’s website, and a map of the area.”
“Figured you would. I’ve got them bookmarked on my laptop.”
“We could book the rooms, arrange the meeting for tomorrow or the day after. It’s less time for the authorities to try to find me.”
“Day after. I need to rework the schedule so I’m covered.”
“That’s better. I have to make arrangements for Bert.”
“My mother will take him.”
“Oh. But …” She hesitated, looked down at the dog. “I thought a licensed kennel, with professionals.”
“You’re going to put him in jail?”
“A kennel isn’t a jail.” Now she had two sets of hazel eyes staring at her. “He did enjoy being over there this afternoon, but it seems like a lot to ask of your parents.”
“They’ll love it. Plus, that’s what family does. Get used to it. Go on and check out the hotel. I’ll give her a call.”
“All right.”
Brooks pulled out his cell phone as Abigail left the kitchen. “You owe me,” he said to Bert.
Everything in place, Abigail told herself. She stood in her safe room, carefully selecting what she’d need to take this next step.
She booked the hotel rooms under two different names, at two different times, from two different computers. Brooks would check in as Lucas Boman—the name of his first Little League coach. She’d create his ID the next day. Hers, which she’d give Anson to pass to the feds once she and Brooks were checked in, set up, would be Catherine Kingston, an ID she already had in her supply. She considered her collection of wigs, her supply of hair color.
“Going as a redhead?” Brooks commented, when she lifted a short, straight bob in golden red.
“My natural color tends toward auburn. I don’t have a wig that matches my natural color.”
“Hold on.” Head angled, he studied her. “You’re a redhead?”
“Brown’s more accurate, but with reddish tones.”
“Just want to mention I’ve seen the other area on you, and it’s not brown with reddish tones.”
“It would be, but I’m thorough when I change appearance.”
“Interesting. Really interesting. Maybe you should’ve aimed for the CIA.”
“It didn’t capture my interest. I think they’ll expect me to alter my appearance somewhat for the meeting. This should be just enough, along with some slight changes with makeup, and some padding. Larger breasts.”
“You can hardly ever go wrong with larger breasts.”
“I believe my natural breasts are more than adequate.”
“Let’s see.” He cupped them, considered. “More than.”
“Obsession with breast size is as foolish as obsession with penis size.”
“I believe my natural penis is more than adequate.”
She laughed, turned toward the mirror.
“I guess you’re not going to check to make sure.”
“Perhaps later.”
She put the wig on with such quick, skillful moves he knew she’d worn one often. “It’s a change.”
He preferred her longer hair, he thought, and the less studied style.
“Yes. I can work with this. I’ll need to buy one closer to my natural color, a longer length I can style in several ways. I’ll want to look like the photos they’d have of Elizabeth, even though they’re dated. I can use contacts, change my eye color—just the tone of it—subtly. Fuller hips, larger breasts. A few shades deeper in skin tone with some self-tanner. Yes, I can work with this,” she repeated.
She took the wig off, replaced it on its stand. “Operatives in the CIA have to lie and deceive. It’s necessary, I imagine, for the tasks they perform. I’ve done a lot of lying and deceiving for the last twelve years. I’d like to have a life where lying and deception aren’t part of my every day. I can’t put all the lies away, but …”
She turned to him. “I’ll have one person who knows the truth, who knows everything, whom I’ll never lie to. That’s a gift. You’re a gift.”
“I’ve got one person who believes in me enough to tell me the truth, to trust me with everything. That’s a gift, too.”
“Then we’re both very lucky.” She crossed to him, took his hand. “I think we should go to bed. I need to run a few tests to verify your penis is adequate.”
“Lucky for both of us I’ve always tested well.”
His cell phone rang at a quarter to two in the morning. Brooks did a half-roll to the side of the bed as he reached for it.
“Chief Gleason.”
“Hey there, Brooks, it’s Lindy.”
“What’s the problem, Lindy?”
“Well, that’s what I need to talk about. I got Tybal here with me.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, it’s some shit, but not the kind you’re thinking. You’re going to want to hear what Ty has to say.”
Brooks shoved himself up to sit. “Where are you?”
“Right now, we’re in my truck about a half-mile from the Lowery place. Since your car isn’t in town, I figured you’re there.”
“That’s like police work, Lindy. Why don’t I meet both of you at your place?”
“Rather not do that under the shit we’re talking about. It’s going to be best if we come on over there, talk this out in private. People tend to see things in town, even at an hour like this. Maybe especially.”
“That’s a point. Hold on.” He put his hand over the phone. “I’ve got Lindy—from the diner?”