Exit Strategy (Nadia Stafford 1)

"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.