The Zero Game

69

“I don’t understand,” William said as he raced down the circular stairwell. “Where’re we going?”

“Where do you think?” Lowell asked, leading them past the sign for the first floor and continuing toward the basement.

“No, I mean beyond the parking garage. Where we going after that? Shouldn’t we tell someone?”

“Tell them what? That we know who really owns Wendell? That they’re not who they say they are? Sure, they’re linked to Janos, but until we get the rest, it doesn’t do us any good. There’s nothing to tell.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“Not us,” Lowell said. “Me.” Leaping down the last few steps and shoving open the door to the basement, Lowell plowed into the parking garage. He didn’t have to go far. Deputy Attorney General gets a spot right in front. If he wanted, he could’ve been in his car within four seconds. But he still paused, searching to make sure Janos wasn’t waiting for him.

The silver Audi was empty.

With the push of a button, Lowell unlocked the car and slid inside.

“What’re you doing?” William asked as Lowell tried to shut the driver’s door.

“I’m going to see a friend,” Lowell said, starting the engine.

It wasn’t a lie. He’d known Harris for over ten years — since they both worked in Senator Stevens’s office. That was why Janos came to him in the first place.

He’d already tried Harris at work, at home, and on both his cell phones. If Harris was in hiding, there was only one place he’d be — the one place he knew best. And right now, finding Harris was the only way to get the rest of the story.

“Why don’t you at least bring some backup?” William asked.

“For what? So they can interrogate my friend? Trust me, I know how Harris thinks. We want him to talk, not panic.”

“But, sir…”

“Good-bye, William.” With a hard tug, Lowell slammed the door and punched the gas. The car peeled out of the spot. Refusing to overthink it, Lowell reminded himself who he was dealing with. If he showed up with armed agents at the Capitol — even forgetting the scene it would make — there’s no way Harris would ever go for that.

Switching on the radio, Lowell lost himself in the mental massage of talk radio. His grandmother used to love talk radio, and to this day, Lowell still used it to, in his grandmother’s words, catch his calm. As the car was filled with the top news stories, Lowell finally took a breath. For one full minute, he forgot about Harris, and Wendell, and the rest of the chaos circling through his head. But as a result, he missed the black sedan that was trailing a few hundred feet behind him as he pulled out of the parking garage and into the daylight.