Exit Strategy

Martin Dubois stirred his coffee, tasted it, then added another sweetener. As he lifted the cup to his lips, he looked over the rim at the clock. Eleven twenty-nine. He’d wait until eleven thirty-five, no longer. Maybe eleven forty, but only if he didn’t finish his coffee before that. He drank slower.

The message had come in last night. An e-mail, sent to his personal account.

Missing a witness? We have her but I think you’d rather have the man who tried to kill her. If so, we can deliver. This is a private transaction. You’ll get your man and all the credit, and we’ll ask for very little in return.

If you wish to discuss this further, please respond to the e-mail address at the bottom with a time and place.

Attached to the e-mail was a photo of a bloodied garrote wire. No one knew that’s what the killer had tried to use. The kids thought he’d been strangling her with a rope, which hadn’t explained her bloodied hands. The wire looked like the same gauge used on the Lee woman. That made sense.

He’d tried to trace the e-mail, of course-using what resources he could without arousing suspicion-but the trail ended at a dead account. So he’d done the only thing he could: responded with a time and place. Here and now.

They’d expected him to come alone. He hadn’t, of course. He was ambitious-not crazy. But he’d told the young agent accompanying him only that he was meeting a witness in a public place and wanted backup, then positioned him across the room, where he could watch for trouble, but couldn’t overhear the conversation.

Had it been any other case, there would have been a team of agents with him, ready to take into custody whoever showed up. But this was the case of a lifetime, one that every agent dreamed of-a dream that was fast turning into a nightmare.

They hadn’t blamed him for the Chicago killing. That had been his free swing. Then he’d had his entire team on a train to California…and the killer took a victim in Nebraska. Strike one. So he’d pulled them back into the investigation, and sent a skeleton crew to organize security at the West Virginia parade. And the killer had not only shown up in West Virginia, but left an eyewitness who just up and walked away. Strike two. He had twenty-four hours to produce that witness. If not…strike three.

Now he had a shot at getting her. That would redeem him, for a while. But if he could go all the way? Bring down the Helter Skelter killer? That would hit the ball out of the park, home run, bases loaded…safe forever. He could ride the wave for a few more years in the bureau, retire with full pension, maybe even tour the lecture circuit.

The bell over the café door tinkled. He glanced up. In walked an older woman. White-haired, elegantly groomed, the country club type. He was about to look away when she caught his gaze…and headed straight for him.

Goddamn it. She’d recognized him. And now she was coming over to tell him what a horrible job he was doing, and someone had to catch this criminal and, in her day, by God, they would have nabbed him after the first murder, if not before-

The woman dropped something onto the table. The garrote wire. He looked up at her, his mouth open, but nothing coming out. She took the seat opposite his and shrugged out of her coat.

He looked down at the wire.

“It’s clean,” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yes, the boys wanted to leave the blood on it for you, but if you get blood in a silk pocket, it just never comes out.” She met his gaze. “You didn’t really think we’d leave our girl’s DNA all over it, did you?”

“Your girl?”

“Your witness?”

She was looking at him like he was an idiot. A twenty-year veteran, and he was gaping at a source like a rookie. He slapped down his mug hard enough to slosh coffee over the edge.

“Where’s my contact? If this is someone’s idea of a joke-”

“It’s someone’s idea of covering your ass, Dubois. You’re a public figure, in a public place…talking to a nice old lady. Probably calming her fears about this big bad killer. Even your boy in the corner is still busy watching the door for whomever you’re supposed to be meeting.”

He shifted in his seat. He had to take the upper hand-or at least find it.

“So who do you represent? I need to know who I’m-”

“A group of publicly minded individuals who’ve been chasing this madman for you. Protecting their…business interests.”

“What kind of business-?”

“What kind of business do you think your boy is in?”

“Who knows? Bunch of experts swear he’s-” Dubois stopped. “A professional kil-”

“Smart experts. And if he was a member of said profession, there would likely be other members of said profession more than a little annoyed with the heat he’s bringing down.” She looked at him. “Who better to stop a killer?”

“So who the hell are you?”

She smiled. “Their fairy godmother…and I just might be yours, too. Let me order a coffee and run a little business proposition past you.”

“So that’s it,” she said as she finished.

“And I somehow do all this without involving my team or my supervisors? This is the FBI, lady. I can’t wipe my ass without filling out a triplicate requisition for new toilet paper.”

She shrugged. “If it can’t be done, then we’ll find another way. Lure him in ourselves, take him down and notify the papers, telling them where to find the body-”

“Let me think about it.”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something. No one said it would be easy, but the reward…” Another shrug. “Worth the cost, I’d say. If you need to involve someone else, one other person from your team, we understand that. Share the risk and share the glory-your decision.”

“You still haven’t told me the price. No, wait, let me guess. Prisoners. You want me to release some of your buddies we picked up while looking for this guy. Don’t bother asking, because I don’t have the kind of authority-”

“Keep them. If they’ve fucked up enough to get caught, that’s not our concern.”

He leaned back in his chair and studied her. “If it’s not prisoners, it must be amnesty. Your guys want a few ‘get out of jail free’ cards. Some old cases closed-”

“My boys don’t need free passes. Any cases you have on them have been shelved for lack of evidence and lack of interest. Let me save us both some time. We want one thing: this guy’s name removed from our ranks. Once he’s yours, he was never one of ours.”

He thought about that for a moment. “You mean you don’t want word of his former occupation getting out.”

“A simple request that will make things much tidier for us.”

He waited. She sipped her coffee.

“That’s it?”

An arched brow. “Well, I could ask for two hundred million, but I suspect the answer would be no. So that’s it. A fair and honest bargain, made in good faith. Do we have a deal?”

He hesitated, then nodded.

FORTY-NINE

The press conference was scheduled for 4 p.m., and by two, the announcement was on every local radio and TV station, and probably half the stations across the country. If Wilkes wanted to know whether the Feds had found me yet, he’d be tuning in. If he hoped to make sure I wasn’t around for a police lineup or court case, he’d have stayed in town to take care of that…and would be at that press conference.

Evelyn, Felix and Quinn took off on their various tasks, making sure everything would run as smoothly as possible. Jack, Felix and I concentrated on the house. It was a row house in an area rife with student housing. As we’d seen with the Vegas condos, a row house limited access to the front and back, meaning Jack and Quinn could cover it. Student housing meant that it would either be near-vacant for homecoming, or there’d be parties nearby to cover any noise.

We searched the house from top to bottom and made a list of every possible entry point. Then we narrowed the list down to the most likely ones. The upstairs windows would be too difficult to get into, especially for a man approaching sixty. The basement one was too small. The best candidate was the patio door. The backyard was enclosed by a privacy fence, so once he was over that fence, he was out of sight.

We closed the vertical blinds so he could work on the patio door without being seen from inside. That also meant he couldn’t take a shot from outside-a bonus. We closed every blind in the house to solve that potential problem. Plus I’d be wearing body armor. That sounds a lot safer than it really is…a pro like Wilkes would know body armor was a possibility with a secured witness, and he’d aim for my head. But if he didn’t have a chance to aim, the armor would help.

We closed off every room that we didn’t need, and Jack applied something to the hinges so they’d squeak if the doors opened. With the shades drawn and doors all closed, the house was nearly dark, even at midday, and we moved furniture around, putting side tables in the halls, chairs just beyond doors, wrinkling area rugs, nothing that looked too out of place, but giving Wilkes things to bump into or trip over as he made his way through the house.

It would drive me crazy, having rumpled rugs and cock-eyed furniture, but if he stumbled or bumped something, it would be another way to let me know he was inside. We could have done more, rigged up an alert system of some sort, but if he found it, he’d know this was a trap.

Once the house was set, and I’d memorized the layout well enough to navigate in the dark, we ran through the plan, every variation of the plan, and every conceivable obstacle to the plan. Only when Jack was certain he’d left nothing unconsidered did he declare we were ready to bring in the others…and lunch.

Over lunch, we went through the plan with Evelyn, Felix and Quinn, and we all tried to poke holes in it. There were a few, but nothing that gave me any real cause for alarm. Finally, it was three thirty. Jack wanted everyone in position before the press conference.

Felix left me my radio, and showed me how to operate it. Quinn tried to stall, and I knew he wanted a private good-bye, but Evelyn took him aside to help her check on something.

They waited in the front room while Jack gave me last-minute instructions. Once they were out of earshot, he turned my way.

“You okay?”

I managed a weak smile. “As okay as I’m going to be.”

“It’ll be fine. Got everything covered.” His gaze shot to me. “Did, didn’t we? Everything covered?”

“It’s fine, Jack.”

“Things don’t go as planned? Get out. Don’t try a second time. Get him outside. Got Evelyn and Felix. Both good distance shooters. He runs? Got me and Quinn. Fast enough on our feet. Faster than him, at least.”

I nodded.

“You want me here? Maybe we could-”

“No. The plan makes the most sense as it is.”

We stood there, the silence thick and heavy.

“I know you don’t want me to do this, Jack.”

A moment’s hesitation. “No. No, I don’t.”

“What happened yesterday, it wasn’t-I was just-”

I stopped, realizing it would do no good to argue. He knew what had happened in that alley. If the lengths I’d gone to had surprised him, my motivation had not.

Yesterday he’d said he knew I wanted “it” bad, but didn’t realize how bad, how far I’d go. Now I understood what that had meant. All those times I feared I’d let the mask slide and my rage show, then seen his reaction-no reaction at all-I’d told myself I’d dodged the bullet, kept my secret. But if he hadn’t reacted, it was because he hadn’t been surprised, had already seen what drove me. Saw it, accepted it, let it be…until I almost got myself killed.

I remembered what Evelyn had said the night before, about another student. “Worst case of ‘fuck the world’ rage you’ve ever seen.”

I looked at Jack. “I won’t screw up again. All things considered, we both know I’m not the best person for this, but I won’t let you down.”

“Not worried about that.”

“Whatever you may think, I’m not suicidal.”

He rubbed his hand over his mouth. Then his eyes met mine. “I know what that’s like, Nadia. Lose everything. Everyone. It makes a difference. Not like you’d jump in front of a bullet. But things go bad? First thing people think? Who they’d leave behind. Parents, wives, kids…Don’t want to let them down. But if there’s no one there…”

“It’s easier to take that risk,” I said softly. “I won’t do it again, Jack.”

He nodded, gaze down, but had he looked up, I knew what I’d see. Doubt.

“I screwed up yesterday, on a whole lot of levels,” I said. “But I have it under control this time. I swear.”

He nodded. Hesitated. Opened his mouth to say something else, then Evelyn popped through the doorway. She saw us and stopped. A murmured apology, and she started to withdraw, but Quinn poked his head in, too.

“Jack? It’s almost ten to.”

Jack nodded. “Gotta run.”

“You can take another minute-” Evelyn began.

“Gotta be in position before Dubois gets here.” He looked at me. “Everything will be ready. It goes bad-”

“I bolt. You cover me. I got it.” I touched his arm. “I really do.”

He nodded, then everyone left. And I was alone.

Four o’clock, and the press conference, came very quickly. The furnished house had a television, so I tuned in. The conference took place in town, and was open to both media and locals. Wilkes would be there, if not in the audience, then close enough to overhear everything, anxious for firsthand news on his witness.

Dubois played his part perfectly. It started as a “no news to report” update, then he received an emergency call about the witness. After relaying the news to the press corps and the assembled audience of locals, he whispered something to the agent beside him, probably telling him to take over, excused himself and left.

I turned off the TV. Now my waiting began. Evelyn had instructed Dubois to get into his car and start driving. Felix would already be hidden in the backseat with the directions. Giving them to Dubois early would have been asking for trouble.

The route was as uncomplicated as we could make it, so Wilkes could follow. Dubois was instructed to “drive normally,” that is, not to speed and risk losing him, but not to go too slowly and look suspicious. He was presumably en route to meet a critical witness. He wouldn’t dawdle. Meanwhile, Evelyn would be tailing him, providing countersurveillance, should any agents or members of the press decide to follow Dubois. If they did, that could delay his arrival even more…if not permanently abort the plan.

Should everything work out, my cue would come when the front door handle turned, signaling that Dubois was there. Then he’d hurry back to the car, as if he’d forgotten something, and I’d be on, waiting for my big moment.

There was no sense trying to figure out how long it would take Dubois to get here. Overestimate and I’d be caught off guard. Underestimate and I’d start worrying that something had gone wrong.

I adjusted the police scanner in the living room. It wasn’t tuned to the frequency the Feds were using. Even if we could find that, we didn’t need to. The scanner was just a prop, set slightly off station so Wilkes could hear police-type chatter, but static choked out the words.

At four forty-seven the front door handle rattled. I stood poised in the living room doorway and blocked out the police scanner buzz as I waited for the next signals, as Felix had explained them to Dubois. First, he’d jangle the handle. Second, he’d open the door, just a few inches, then slam it shut again. Finally, he’d turn and walk past the front window, where I’d see him and know, if all three events occurred, that it wasn’t someone delivering pizza flyers.

The doorknob turned. It opened. And…

The clomp of footsteps, a firm one-two. Then the door clicked shut.

He’d come inside.

I tensed, fingers tightening around my gun. Had Wilkes figured out the right house before Dubois arrived? Jack had included that in his list of possibilities-the drawn blinds could give it away as soon as Dubois’s car slowed a few doors down. But to walk in the front door? That was ballsy.

The squeak of shoes. Following the siren’s call of the police scanner. Too late to back up to my post down the hall. No problem. You want contingency plans? Jack had dozens of them.

I ducked into the living room and crouched behind the entertainment stand we’d moved into position facing the doorway. I could aim my gun right through the opening above the TV, which was turned off so it wouldn’t attract Wilkes’s attention. He’d slip up to the doorway, and look at the recliner beside the scanner-

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Not moving very quietly, was he? He stepped into the doorway. My finger touched the trigger…

“Jesus Christ!” I hissed as I stepped from behind the stand.

A flicker of surprise as Dubois’s gaze slid over me, as if I wasn’t what he’d envisioned, then his face went taut.

“Change of plans,” he snapped. “This is my roust. You’re standing down.”

“The hell I-”

I swallowed the rest. Any moment now, that patio door could open and Wilkes could walk through. I glanced at the recliner and considered suggesting Dubois take a seat, provide me with a real guard to draw Wilkes’s first fire. The thought cheered me enough to push back the surge of frustration.

“Stand down,” Dubois said.

I resisted the urge to flip him off. No time for confrontation. No time to get him out of the house. The best solution? Compromise. And fast.

“We think he’ll come in the kitchen,” I said, speaking softly and quickly. “The radio should draw him in here. You can lie in wait-”

“Don’t tell me where I’ll lie in wait.”

“Fine. You pick then.”

I turned and headed for my bathroom hiding spot, trying not to snarl as I stalked off. Of all the stupid stunts. We’d arranged it this way to protect Dubois. All the glory and none of the risk. And this was how he repaid us? There are capable, bright agents all across the nation…and we had to wind up with an idiot.

This was a possibility Jack hadn’t accounted for. We’d discussed the chance that Dubois would back out before the press conference, or on the way here, or before he got out of the car. Or that’d he’d get overeager and rush in too soon afterward, before we could leave. Or that our departure would be met with squad cars. The thought that he’d walk through that door and demand to take down Wilkes himself had never crossed our minds. Why? Because it was stupid!

As I brushed past Dubois, he made a move to stop me. I turned a glare on him.

“You want to take him down?” I whispered. “Then get ready. Before he comes through that door and finds us bickering in the hallway.”

Dubois returned my glare, but let me pass. When I got to the bathroom, I looked back and saw him ducking into the living room. In other words, he was counting on Wilkes coming through that patio door into the kitchen. And if he didn’t? Well, that was Dubois’s problem. I wouldn’t stand back and watch him get shot, but nor was I going to risk losing Wilkes to ensure Dubois’s safety.

I slipped into the bathroom and looked around. Still a good hiding spot, with only one door and a window too small for Wilkes to climb through. I got into position, then turned on my radio, keeping the volume down, unit at my ear.

“We know,” Jack said before I could speak. His voice was hard, words clipped. “Can’t worry about it. You in position?”

“Affirmative,” I whispered. “Quinn?”

“Here.”

“Wire?”

A soft exhale, and I knew he’d been worrying about the same thing: whether Dubois was wired, either with a single partner backing him up or as a full operation, with a battalion of agents waiting to swoop in. There was no way to know for sure, and given how Dubois had treated me so far, he wasn’t about to submit to a search.

“Fifty-fifty,” he said after a moment.

“Shit.”

“Forget it,” Jack said. “Have to. Visitors show up? We’ll know it. Warn you. Get you out. Meanwhile? Watch what you say. Stay on task.”

An hour later, I was still waiting. Finally, I heard footsteps in the hall. Heavy footsteps. I sighed, but took up position anyway, in the corner by the door, gun drawn, watching through a mirror over the sink. Sure enough, within seconds, Dubois appeared.

I considered shooting him. Nothing fatal. Maybe a bullet through the right shoulder. Whoops, you can’t fire a gun with a wounded shoulder? Guess we’d better get you out of here. Next time you’re in a house with an armed stranger waiting for a serial killer? Don’t come creeping down the hallway.

“Get back in position,” I said through my teeth.

“It’s been an hour. He’s not showing up.”

“No? Well, maybe that’s because you’re in here, and he needs to plan a little. If you’d left, he would have made damned sure he got in here before you returned.”

“So this is my fault?”

I didn’t dare answer that.

“Stand guard,” I said. “I’ll call my partners, and see whether anything’s changed from their end.”

FIFTY

“You gotta get him out of there,” Jack said.

“You think I haven’t tried? If you can do better, then I’ll hand the radio over, because I want him gone even more than you do, but he won’t go without a fight…and a fight will give Wilkes the perfect opportunity to strike.”

“Or run,” Jack muttered. “He hears arguing? He’ll suspect a trap. Fuck.”

“So I should…?”

“Stick to the plan. Holding pattern.”

I lowered the radio and turned to Dubois. “Agent Dubois? Nothing’s changed on their end. There’s no sign of him outside, so they want us to stay the course.”

Dubois’s eyes narrowed. When he reached for the radio, I pretended not to notice, turning my attention back to it, tightening my grip. He paused, then stalked to the dining room.

“Back on track,” I said to Jack. “For now…though I’m not sure how much longer he’ll take orders from me.”

“ Dee? Quinn here.”

“Hey.”

“I was just going to say you’re doing fine. Dubois won’t like you running the show, but don’t forget, he’s on his own. Outgunned and outnumbered, and if we don’t pull this off-out of a job. He’s taken a big risk and broken a shitload of rules. He can’t go back without Wilkes’s head on a stick. As long as he knows that’s what you want, too, and you don’t get in his face too much, he’ll toe the line.”

“Good. Thanks.”

I signed off and resumed my position.

Another hour passed. The light on my radio flickered. I turned it on and said hello.

“Me,” came the response.

The reception in the bathroom wasn’t clear enough to recognize the voice, but the terse greeting gave it away.

“He’s waiting for night,” Jack said.

“I was starting to suspect that.”

“If Dubois left? He’d have taken a shot. Now? Too late. Damage done.”

“Because he’ll assume Dubois has already interviewed me, so there’s no need to rush into a house that might be full of federal agents. Speaking of the Feds, they must be looking for Dubois and his car is right-”

“Evelyn hot-wired it. Moved it.”

“I’m guessing you don’t want me to stay in this bathroom all night. I could, if you think I should-”

“No. He’ll wait for night. Expect you to be sleeping. Guards resting.”

“Do you want me to go upstairs and stake out new positions?”

“Yeah. Me and Quinn? Going scouting. Wilkes has to be around.” He paused. “You should eat.”

He was right. Eating was the last thing I wanted to do, but I had to keep my blood sugar up. I’d brought a rucksack of food-trail mix, protein bars and water-and I told him I’d make myself a meal.

“Threw some candy in there, too.”

I laughed. “Thanks, Jack.”

“Go on, then. Talk to Dubois. Bring him up to speed.” A pause. “But hide the food. Fuck him.”

And so the night began. We expected Wilkes to wait until past midnight, when whoever was going to sleep would have drifted off. That meant Dubois and I had time to get ready, which we did…separately.

Maybe the guy had just been in charge too long, or maybe he couldn’t stomach the thought of partnering with a criminal, but he made it clear this wasn’t a team effort. So we split territory-I got the upstairs and he got the down.

My plan was simple. If Wilkes wanted a sleeping victim, I’d give him one. The old pillows-under-the-comforter trick, which was a hell of a lot tougher without pillows and a comforter. The house came with furniture, but not bedding. I had to jury-rig something using a couple of towels and a sheet I found in a box in the basement, plus cushions from the living room. It wouldn’t fool anyone who got close, but in the dark, it would get Wilkes in the doorway. I’d be in the closet waiting.

I don’t know what Dubois’s plan was, and I knew he wouldn’t tell me if I asked. So when everything was ready, and it was only eight o’clock, I sat on the bed, munched my snacks, drank my bottled water and kept in radio contact with Evelyn and Felix.

Quinn and Jack were still on the prowl, presumably without result. Since they’d given their radios to Evelyn and Felix, though, one of them could have been ambushed by Wilkes and be lying in a backyard somewhere. I tried hard not to think about that, and to remind myself they were both experienced hunters, but I felt a lot better when my radio flashed at eight forty-eight, and Jack came on, telling me he and Quinn had returned.

They had scoured every bit of land within sight of the house, and found no trace of Wilkes. Quinn thought he’d given up. Felix thought he hadn’t been able to follow Dubois. Jack thought he’d hadn’t fallen for the trap in the first place. Evelyn told us all to pipe down and be patient. So we waited.

While Quinn and Jack took a breather, Evelyn and Felix went on patrol, in the hope that if the guys had missed a nook or a cranny, fresh pairs of eyes would find it. An hour later, they got back with nothing to add. Even Evelyn now suspected our trap had failed. We’d hold on until morning, then come up with something new.

“You need sleep,” Jack said as I yawned into the radio for the umpteenth time.

I laughed.

“I’m serious.”

“One, I’m waiting for a professional killer who wants me dead. Falling asleep tops the list of stupid things I could do. Two, it’s not even ten.”

“You’re tired. Three nights, almost no sleep. Wilkes waited this long? He’s waiting until late.”

“Jack’s right,” Quinn cut in on the other radio. “He’ll be waiting for as many people in that house as possible to fall asleep, and be deeply asleep. My guess is you won’t see him before two. And if you’re tired now, you’ll be beat by then. Can you catnap?”

“Sure, but-”

“Then we’ll give you a half hour. Leave your radio on, and we’ll wake you up at ten thirty.”

I hesitated.

“You’re okay, Dee. Everything’s covered. Jack has your front, and I have your back.” A pause, then he sang. “For a fee, I’m happy to be your backdoor man.”

I sputtered a laugh.

“That didn’t sound right, did it?”

“I think that’s a whole different kind of pro.”

Jack came on. “Suppose you want a story.”

“Oh, I’ve got one,” Quinn cut in. “You’ll like it. A little tale about Martin Dubois. This isn’t the first fix he’s gotten himself into, but the last time he was lucky, managed to wriggle out…”