The End Game (A Brit in the FBI 3)

“Why do you assume I’m working, Pierre?”

A small laugh, and he pictured Menard shaking his head. “I know you, and I heard about the Bayway bombing. Now what can I do for you?”

“Do you have friends in Munich?”

“Oui, naturellement. I have friends everywhere.”

“Good. I need someone to grab a hacker named Gunther Ansell. He lives in the Glockenbach. He should be home asleep right now. I need him taken silently, and I need him taken now.”

“I believe I have heard this name recently. You said he’s a hacker? One of your sort?”

“He is. Where did you hear his name?”

“Interpol sent out a Blue Notice for him last week, to gather more information about his criminal activity on the Internet. But the notice was canceled yesterday. One moment, Nicholas.”

He heard papers shuffling in the background. Interpol had a variety of color-coded “notices” running the gamut from red to a mild yellow, warnings against wanted criminals, upcoming attacks, or even simply requests for more information.

Menard came back on the line. “It is as I thought. I am sorry to have to tell you this. Gunther Ansell was killed three days ago. Shot in a robbery on the street near his apartment. The police have no suspects.”

17

ROOK TO D1

Brooklyn

Vanessa watched Andy hit the buttons on the phone, knew it was a matter of moments before her time was up. She gauged the distance to the door, not that it mattered, since Matthew’s Beretta never wavered from her chest. She’d try one last time. Maybe Matthew would look away and she’d have a chance.

“Go ahead, Andy, make the call. I’ve told you already, Matthew, it’s not my phone. This will prove it.”

She saw Matthew smooth back his hair, a habit of his that meant he wasn’t certain, maybe about her guilt? Had she gotten through to him when she’d brought up Darius?

Andy put the call on speaker. The phone rang four times, then a woman’s voice answered, loud enough to be heard over the din in the background. “Green’s Pizza. Can I help you?”

“Pizza?”

“Yeah, babe. That’s what we do. Make a mean calzone, too, if you’re interested. What’ll it be? Got a fourteen-inch pie on special, pepperoni and mushroom.”

“Hey, you sound pretty, well, never mind. Thank you.” Andy turned off the phone. His crazy eyes shone. “How about that, a pizza place in Delaware this time. The last call, the geo-locator says the call went to a Korean BBQ joint in Arlington, Virginia. Why have you been calling restaurants, Vanessa? And why does the same number take us to different places?”

“Matthew, listen to me, I have no reason to betray you. I make bombs, I love to watch them work and work well. I’m proud to be a part of your group. It’s Darius, Matthew. It’s Darius.”

Andy said, “Darius? That stone-cold freak killer? There’s no reason for him to turn traitor. But that’s good, Vanessa, you sound real sincere accusing him, but you’re lying. What do you think, Ian?”

Ian looked ready to both cry and kill her where she stood. Like Matthew. “Van, you not only betrayed Matthew, you betrayed me. Me, Van. I’ve known something was up these past couple of weeks. I’ve suspected you really weren’t who you said you were, but I didn’t want to see it. I told myself you were for real, you’d never betray me, betray us. Did you set me up in Londonderry?”

What had she done to make him suspect? It didn’t matter now. She said, “Darius has gotten into your head, too, Ian? Don’t you see? Darius tried to drive a wedge between us, has been since he came to us in Tahoe. He’s the outsider; he’s the one we don’t know. He brought you that case full of money, blinded you, Matthew, made you accept him. You’re the one to blame here, Matthew, you were the one who brought him right into the fold. He’s got to be the one who’s betrayed us.”

Matthew stared from her to Ian, then he burst out laughing. “Darius, betray us? Now, that’s rich, Vanessa. Darius isn’t who you think he is, but I know, I know.” He paused, his eyes flashed bright and excited. “Darius is the devil and he never betrays one of his own souls.”

All over.

Vanessa pushed off the wall, kicked the Beretta out of Matthew’s hand.

She grabbed an empty beer bottle from the table, cracked it, leaving jagged edges. She stood facing them. Could she get to Matthew’s gun? Six feet away, she could do it. She started to move, stopped cold.

Andy was pointing her own gun at her, and said, his voice a crazy singsong. “Put the bottle down, Vanessa. You’re such a pretty little liar. I kind of liked you.”

She lunged at him, ripped at his face with the beer bottle. Matthew yelled, “Don’t shoot, Andy, don’t shoot! Get away from her, get back!”