The Sixth Man

CHAPTER 71

SLIGHT MOVEMENT.

Slight nausea.

He saw his sister pivot in the old family kitchen. Then the memory shifted to something far more recent.

He saw the face in the dirt staring up at him from the barn floor.

Back to his sister pivoting.

Then his father’s face.

Then the face in the dirt.

It seemed all connected, though it couldn’t be.

His mind was a mishmash.

It had never been that before. Never.

Edgar Roy opened his eyes once and then quickly closed them as a pain tugged at his brain. He opened them once more. Something pulled at him. He slid upward, as though being yanked from deep water. Everything around him felt slick, wet.

“Eddie?”

His eyes closed once more.

“Eddie?”

He forced his eyes open. He felt slow, stupid, drunk. Feelings he had never before had in his life.

“Eddie? Can you sit up by yourself?”

With an effort he righted himself and looked at her.

Kelly Paul sat next to him in the rear seat of a van that had tinted windows. There were other people with him and his sister. The van was not moving.

The tall man was in the front passenger seat. The skeptical dark-haired woman was in the driver’s seat.

Peter Bunting sat on the other side of Paul.

Bunting said, “Edgar, are you all right? You were bleeding when they got to you.”

Roy touched the side of his head and felt the bandage there.

He mumbled, “Shot. Missed. Glass.”

His sister said, “It’s okay, Eddie. Close call, but it’s okay.”

“K-el?” he said, the name coming out thick and disjointed.

“Just take it easy, Eddie. You breathed in some nasty stuff. No lasting effects, but it takes a while to run its course. Once it’s out of your system you’ll feel much better.”

“You did that?”

“I’m afraid it was unavoidable.”

He felt something at his ankle. Well, more accurately, he didn’t feel something at his shin. He looked down. His restraint anklet was gone.

Paul said, “I didn’t think you’d want that on any longer.”

Roy looked at the dark-haired woman.

Michelle stared back at him in the rearview mirror. She wore a shoulder holster and an anxious expression. Sean was next to her, looking equally concerned.

Sean said to Paul, “Let’s just hope that really wasn’t the FBI who came to get your brother.”

Roy rubbed his face and willed his mind to clear itself of all the smoke, the rubbish, and the inefficiencies.

“It wasn’t the FBI,” he said.

“How do you know that?” asked Sean.

“Because one of the men said to me, ‘Move your feet, asshole, or I’ll put a round right in your skull.’ ”

This came out more like a playback of a recording and both Michelle and Sean looked relieved.

“Okay,” Sean said. “Definitely not the Bureau.”

Michelle said to Paul, “How did you work out that was going to happen?”

“The men watching the facility? That was the first clue. Then a maintenance crew went in recently to do some routine work. Only that work had been done less than a month ago and wasn’t due to be done again for another three months. They spent a long time with the backup generator.”

“Then why did they even let them in the building?” asked Sean.

“Because the man who replaced Carla Dukes as director at Cutter’s authorized it. And he was being paid off.”

“And that work was really to sabotage the electrical systems and the backup generator,” said Michelle.

“And as we saw, they were successful in doing so,” replied Paul.

“So you called some… friends?” prompted Sean.

“Acquaintances,” she corrected. “They came, they saw, and they kicked ass.”

“They were going to do what, kill him?” said Michelle, eyeing Roy.

“Eventually, yes, and blame it on Peter or me or some other convenient target.”

She turned to her brother. “When I visited you at Cutter’s I asked you to think about some things. Have you?”

Roy nodded. He adjusted his glasses and said, “You asked me about patterns. I detected four different ones but all were connected to some degree. What we’ve learned recently has given me new information which I’ve now plugged into these scenarios.”

Roy’s speech now was firm, straightforward, more machinelike than human.

“Four patterns?” said Michelle.

He nodded. “First, Agent Murdock was killed because he’d discovered the existence of the E-Program. That’s not a deduction. He actually told me that when he came to see me at Cutter’s. He said something was definitely wrong and that he needed my help to get to the people responsible. Carla Dukes was eliminated because she wouldn’t go along with the extraction plan, whereas we know now that the new director had no such compunction. I saw him looking at me as we left Cutter’s. He has a terrible poker face; his guilt couldn’t have been plainer.”

Paul said, “He obviously didn’t believe you’d be in a position to tell anyone.”

“Right. Next, Hilary Cunningham was killed to incriminate Ms. Maxwell and distract you and Mr. King from the case.”

“And Bergin?” asked Sean.

“Obviously by someone he knew.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Sean.

“The window being rolled down and then back up by the killer.” He glanced at his sister. “She told me about that in the Morse code.”

“And Sean told me that,” said Paul.

“I guess great minds think alike,” noted Michelle.

“But I don’t know who killed him,” admitted Roy. “Not enough data to go on. The likely scenario was to remove him from the case so it wouldn’t move forward. They were buying time.” He paused. “But that doesn’t really make sense.”

“Why?” asked Michelle.

Sean answered. “Because the case wasn’t moving forward anyway, not with Edgar sitting at Cutter’s.”

“That’s exactly right,” said Roy.

“But at least Foster and Quantrell must be throwing fits,” said Bunting with a grim smile. “That’s a positive for our side.”

“But that means they’re also going to come after us,” added Paul.

“And do we sit back and wait for that?” asked Sean.

“Of course not,” she answered. “Now we go on the offensive.”

“How?” asked Sean.

“I know exactly how,” said Paul. “In some ways, I think I’ve been waiting my whole life to do this.” She looked at Bunting. “What about you, Peter?”

“Oh, I feel the exact same way.”