Exit Strategy (52 page)

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.”