Hello, miss, hello, son, where may I take you this morning?”
The man had a sunny Maharashtra accent. For some reason, Evie found it reassuring.
“Is there a Walmart around here?”
“There is indeed, a twenty-four-hour facility on Route 30. Will that be your destination today?”
“I just need to stop there to pick up a few things. My destination is in Columbia. Is that all right?”
“Of course, as long as you don’t mind the meter running.”
“I don’t mind at all. Thank you.”
She and Dash were in and out of the Walmart in less than ten minutes — Evie with a new prepaid cell phone, Dash with some new comic books — and a little over an hour later, they were standing in front of the senior center, watching the cab drive off. Evie pulled on the door but it didn’t open. Of course. They’d keep it locked at night.
She knocked on the glass. She didn’t recognize the person behind the desk — a big man in scrubs, unlike the attractive women in business suits they seemed to favor during the day. An orderly, she supposed, more than a receptionist.
The man looked up, then stood and came to the door. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you, my father lives here, and… well, would it be all right if I see him?”
“Ma’am, visiting hours don’t start until seven.”
“Yes, I know. And I know it’s odd, but… look, could you at least open the door? It feels strange to have to talk to you through the glass.”
The man looked dubious, but it was a retirement home, for God’s sake, not a bank. He unlocked the door and opened it, but didn’t step out of the way or invite her in.
“Thank you,” she said. “The thing is, my son and I are going on a trip. On our way to the airport, in fact. And… I had this terrible dream, just before I woke up, that my father would be gone when we got back. I know it’s silly, but it felt so much like a premonition. I just wanted to make sure we saw him before we left. In case. Would that be all right?”
The man was still wearing the dubious expression, but Evie thought she detected some softening in it. There was a pause, and he said, “What’s your father’s name?”
“Kevin Gallagher. Room 717. And I’m Evie, by the way.” She extended her hand and the man shook it.
“And I’m Cooper. I know Mister Gallagher. Very nice man, very polite with the staff, though he doesn’t always remember where he is.”
She didn’t know whether Cooper was a first name or a last. Either way, apparently it was what he wanted to be called. “I know. He’s been… declining. But yes, he’s the same nice man he always was. There’s that, at least.”
Cooper looked at Dash. “Here to see your grandfather, son?”
Dash nodded.
That seemed to seal the deal. Cooper nodded and held the door open. “Don’t be too long, all right? It’s not exactly the crime of the century, but I could get in trouble letting you in here after hours.”
“Thank you so much, Cooper. I promise, we’ll make it quick.”
She and Dash went and looked in on her father, who was asleep and snoring loudly. She was actually afraid he might wake up — if he was lucid, it would make it hard to leave quickly, which they very much needed to do. She wondered about the story she had made up for Cooper. Was that her unconscious speaking up? Because she did have the dreadful sense that this really could be the last time she saw her father. She pushed the feeling away. She couldn’t be emotional. She couldn’t let herself be afraid, or it would just consume her. She had to focus.
On the way out, she asked Dash if he needed the bathroom. He shook his head.
For a second, she was afraid to leave him alone and considered bringing him in with her.
You’re jumping at shadows now, she told herself. No one’s here. It’s practically the middle of the night. The doors are locked.
Okay, you wait here, she signed. I’ll be right out.
She headed into the women’s room and went straight to the hiding place. The thumb drive was exactly where she’d left it. Well, why wouldn’t it be? But she was almost surprised. The director, and Delgado, and Marvin being involved with them… she realized she’d almost started to suspect they were omniscient, and that they would have gotten here ahead of her. But no, everything was fine. So far.
Back in the corridor, she signed, You know what? I just need to use one of the computers in the rec center for a minute — a work thing. Want to play an online game?
Dash loved his online baseball games, but for once his enthusiasm was muted. I guess.
What is it, hon?
I’m tired. What’s going on? Why are we here?
It killed her that he was being such a trooper. And that he looked so zonked. Just some things I need to take care of. And I wanted to see Grandpa. Only a little while longer, okay?
They walked into the rec center. The rest of the facility was dead quiet, and she’d been expecting the same here. But there was a white-haired man at one of the two terminals. She recognized him — Mr. Bollinger, who she knew played checkers with her father when her father was able. Shit.
Mr. Bollinger looked up when they came in. “Oh, Evie, what are you doing here? Is your father all right?”
“Thank you, Mr. Bollinger. He’s fine. Just checking up on him.”
“At this hour?”
“It’s a long story. And what are you doing up?”
“Oh, I don’t sleep well since my wife passed. Sometimes I’ll find a fellow insomniac in here and we’ll chat. Otherwise, I read the news online.”
“I see. Actually, I was just going to use one of the terminals myself. A work thing.” She signed to Dash, Okay if you wait on the baseball, good-looking? Only one terminal.
Dash nodded. And though he couldn’t have known what they were saying, Mr. Bollinger seemed to understand the gist. He said, “Oh, why don’t you both have a go? I need to attend to a call of nature, anyway.”
“You sure?” Evie said, wanting desperately to just say thank you instead.
“Oh, these days never surer of anything than that. Here, have at it.” Mr. Bollinger got up and shuffled out, and suddenly, mercifully, they had the room, and the terminals, to themselves.
Dash sat and started working the keyboard. As soon as she saw he was engaged, Evie downloaded Tor — not exactly shocking that none of the residents seemed to have done so earlier — and checked the SecureDrop file she had established at the Intercept. There was a reply. Her heart kicked and she opened it.
Call me at the number below as soon as you can after getting this message. The number belongs to a burner phone, purchased for cash, never used before. To make the call, you should first purchase one of your own.
If after talking we decide to proceed, I propose we meet at the Pennyfield Lock boat launch on the C&O Canal. It is very important that we do NOT discuss the location on the phone. We can talk about a time, but not a place. Given the precautions we’re already using, I doubt anyone could be listening, but we should also be extra careful and not take anything for granted.
The boat launch is easy to find. Don’t search for it online — again, just an abundance of caution. Use paper maps if you have to, but the directions are actually quite simple: it’s at one end of Pennyfield Lock Road, the other end of which is at River Road in Potomac. Turn onto Pennyfield and follow it to the water, at which point you have to turn either right or left. Turn right and you’ll see the boat launch just ahead of you. There’s a gravel parking area just above it. That’s where we’ll meet.
Do NOT use your own vehicle or one that could be associated with you. If you have a cell phone with you, make sure the battery has been removed. If it’s a model where you can’t remove the battery, you CANNOT bring it with you.
I’ll be holding something, probably a newspaper or magazine in both hands. If either of my hands is empty, it means either that the person you’re looking at is someone else, or that there’s a problem and you have to abort. Do the same. Unless both your hands are occupied, I will NOT approach.
If I see you with both hands occupied, I’ll ask you if there’s a way to rent a kayak. You tell me you think they’re closed for the season. At that point, we’ll each know we’re dealing with who we’re supposed to be dealing with.
There was a phone number at the bottom. She wrote it on a piece of paper, double-checked, and closed and purged everything.
She touched Dash on the shoulder. He looked over and she signed, Come on, hon, gotta go.
Dash looked back to the screen, then to her again. Just five more minutes? I’m at level four in—
She laughed, glad he was distracted. Later, okay? Got a lot to do this morning.
They headed back to the front desk.
Cooper looked up as they approached. “Your old man doing okay?”
“He’s fine. Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”
Cooper waved a hand. “Ah, it was nothing. Glad you got to see him. Nice man, like I said.”
“Could I ask you one more small favor?”
Cooper raised his eyebrows. There was something about the man’s face that lent itself to dubiousness.
“I, uh, forgot my cell phone—”
Cooper cocked his head as though this visit was getting less plausible by the minute. A suffocating sense of despair started to close in on her. Everything she was doing was so transparent. If a drunken motel clerk and a tired nursing home orderly could see right through her, what the hell chance did she have against NSA?
But she forced the feeling away. She had to stay focused. She had to get through this. For Dash. For Dash.
“I know,” she said. “It’s a long story and it’s been pretty crazy. But… if I could use your phone to call a cab? I’d really, really appreciate it.”
“It’s no trouble. I just hope you’re okay.”
“We’re fine. I just need that cab.”
“Hang on.” He leaned forward for a closer look at something behind his monitor — a list of frequently called numbers, she guessed — punched some digits into the desk phone, and handed her the receiver. She told the person who answered that she needed a cab from the senior center in Columbia to Baltimore/Washington International Airport. As soon as possible. Oh, there was one right in the area? Five minutes? That would be perfect.
She handed the receiver back to Cooper. “Thank you. We’ll wait outside, okay? I don’t want to cause you any more trouble than we already have.”
“Hey now, listen, it’s no trouble. You can—”
“No, no, it’s really okay. It’s starting to get light, and we don’t get to see that many sunrises. Besides, they said it would be just a few minutes.”
“All right, if you really don’t mind waiting outside. If you change your mind, though, I’m right here at this desk. Just knock on the glass again.”
Dash signed, I need to use the bathroom after all.
She nodded. Okay, but hurry up. Cab’s coming in five minutes.
She made a little small talk with Cooper while Dash was gone. There were so many nice people around her. She didn’t know why she’d never really appreciated that before. She was going to change that.
If she got through this.
Dash came back, and Cooper came around and let them out. The sky was pink in the east, she was pleased to see, and it really was lovely. It had been a long night. She was glad it was almost morning.
Manus sat in the pickup, watching from a parking lot across the street as Evie and Dash emerged from the senior center. For a cab, no doubt, the same way they had arrived. She would know not to use Uber or Lyft; the services tracked user movements so closely it was hard to imagine NSA hadn’t found a way into their systems, covertly or with their cooperation.
He’d thought she would go to the senior center, and it had been easy enough to take an alternate route and arrive before they had. He’d watched them go in, and now that they were out, he could tell from the relief in her expression that she’d retrieved the thumb drive. He hated what he had to do next, but there was no other way. He started to get out of the truck.
A cab pulled up. He paused, his hand on the door handle. Rush the cab? No, they were already getting in, it was too late. Damn, he should have waited somewhere closer to the entrance. But he hadn’t wanted to take a chance on being seen, and he hadn’t expected to have so little time to move in.
He considered running them off the road, but was concerned someone could be injured. Maybe a fender bender? The driver would stop to exchange information. But it would be a lot to manage: the woman, making a hell of a fuss; the driver, growing increasingly concerned, possibly intervening. Manus didn’t want a scene in front of the boy. Didn’t want to hurt him in any way. Better just to follow them for the moment.
He’d get another opportunity. And this time, he wouldn’t wait.