The End Game (A Brit in the FBI 3)

When she finished, she sat back, laced her fingers over her stomach, and looked over at Nicholas.

“Better, Agent Caine?”

“Much. You did good, Nicholas, really good. I mean, you saved the president’s freaking life, not to mention all those people on the plane. Plus the captain’s wife will now make you dinner.”

He wanted to tell her without her quick thinking, calling the vice president, hooking him up with the pilot, he couldn’t have saved them, but knew she’d only shrug, dismiss it. He said only, “You know what I think? You should frame the vice president’s card.”

That was good, she thought, but it didn’t quite lift the cloud of doom. “About Spenser, Nicholas, I really wished I hadn’t had to kill him.”

Nicholas shrugged. “I don’t think he ever planned to walk away from the hospital. He knew it was the end of the line. Blowing up the president’s plane? Killing the leader he saw as giving in to terrorists? I’ll bet Damari didn’t have to do too much convincing.” He shrugged again, took another sip of his tea. “I don’t guess we’ll ever know.”

He was right, or close enough. “And now we have to wonder if that other countdown on his phone means he’s going to blow up Yorktown.”

“Not a doubt in my mind, unfortunately.” Someone had turned up the volume on the television and they both watched the breaking news about a shooting at George Washington University Hospital. The anchor said, “No details, and the hospital is no longer on lockdown, we’ll have more news on this during the noon broadcast.”

Mike said, “Everything boils down to a news bite.” She raised her face, and he saw pain there and regret and hated it. “He was fast, so fast. When he pressed the button I thought we were all dead, boom, gone up in smoke. All I could think was I failed, I failed everyone. And I thought about my mom, and my dad, and how upset they would be at me getting myself killed because I wasn’t fast enough.” She leaned forward, balanced her chin on her hands. “I made the wrong decision, Nicholas. I shouldn’t ever have let him press the button on that phone.”

He wanted to tell her she’d stopped a killer, saved innumerable lives, but knew she’d kiss that off, as the Americans said. He said only, “So tell me, what did you do wrong exactly?”

Instead, she surprised him. “I’d like you to meet my folks sometime, Nicholas. You’d like them. You’ll start panting when you meet my mom, the Gorgeous Rebecca.”

This was interesting. “Yes,” he said, never looking away from her. “I’d like to meet them.”

“Spenser is dead and we still don’t know where Damari is or what he’s planning. My folks come to New York regularly. Maybe we can all have dinner. No, no, lunch would be better.”

He laughed. “We can discuss it.”

“All right, yes, we can talk about my parents, and lunch, that’d be okay.”

“Time to pack away all the second-guessing, Agent Caine. You made exactly the right call, and I would have done the same

if I’d been in your position. Don’t forget, he made it past me, too. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. And no one is.”

She waved that away, as he expected she would.

“I wonder if the president will invite you to the White House, give you the keys to the Lincoln Bedroom? But I’ve heard the bed is really short, too short for you.”

He glanced at his Breitling. “Seventy minutes until the speech at Yorktown was supposed to happen. No doubt in my mind there’ll be an explosion and we’ll be treated to another display of the bomb’s power.”

“And still it won’t be over.” Mike banged her fist on the table. “Where is Damari?”

73

KING TO E1

Hoover Building

Sherlock met them in the lobby, hugged them both. “Andy Tate’s body was found an hour ago in a motel in Lorton, Virginia. He was shot through the forehead. There were some electronics lying around, but no laptops, no phones. Only Spenser and Tate went into the room, so it wasn’t Damari, unless he was wearing Potter’s invisibility cloak.”

“Yes,” Nicholas said. “Matthew Spenser, no doubt.”

Mike frowned. “Why did he kill Tate? He was one of his core group, his right hand—the computer guy who implemented the cyber-attack.”

Sherlock said, “Dillon believes Spenser had simply gone over the edge at that point. His only focus became killing Vanessa and blowing up the president. He knew he was going to die, accepted it.

“Dillon just called me, told me to tell you he’d spoken to both Carl Grace and Vanessa, told them what had happened. He wanted to assure you that Vanessa was going to be okay, and she sends her thanks for helping wrap things up, glad what she recorded for Spenser worked. But like the rest of us, she’s terrified Damari got Matthew’s coin to Iran.

“Still—you saved the president of the United States, and that makes everything, for the moment, at least, okay. I’ve already heard from at least six agents that you guys were amazing. Nicholas, what does it feel like to have the president of the United States owe you big-time?” And she laughed, punched him in the arm. “My advice is to call the IRS, make a deal. I bet those dual taxes are crippling. Now follow me, guys, not much time now until Yorktown. And no one wants to guess what will happen.”