He wanted to know, “Did you send those men into the Garver Institute?”
“Of course. Who else would have done it? I thought it a good opportunity to eliminate you, Malone, and the man who broke the cipher. But you were lucky there. So was Malone. Come now, Jonathan, you knew all along I was using you. But you wanted the money.”
Maybe so. And he’d also made it this far, covertly shifted his position from defense to offense.
A fact Carbonell did not, as yet, understand.
“The spring gun yours, too?” he asked.
She nodded. “I thought it a good way to divert attention from me. If your foot had not stopped the door, I would have flung it open and stepped out of the way, barely escaping harm.”
“Sorry to interrupt your plan.”
She shrugged. “As it is, things have turned out even better. Lots of possibilities here. Where are the two pages?”
That was the one thing holding her back. She could not make a move on him until that question was answered. Her orders to her minions had certainly included a proviso that their location was vital before they acted.
“I can show you,” he said. “I haven’t had an opportunity to retrieve them.”
“Please do.”
He knew she could not resist, so he gestured toward his right and, together, they reentered the great hall where he and Malone had fought. He found the hole with the rotted timbers and pointed. “Down there.”
“And how do we get there?”
He’d already thought about that. The upper wall walk was lined on its inner edge with a rope barrier that stretched through iron holders. Not much protection, but enough for someone to be aware of the danger. After eliminating Carbonell’s two men, he’d removed the nylon hemp and coiled about fifty feet into his backpack.
He slid the pack off his shoulders and said, “I came prepared.”
CASSIOPEIA CONSIDERED HALE’S QUESTION. HE’D CHOSEN THE right victim. If either she or Stephanie had been strapped to that chair, neither would have spoken, since the only bargaining power they possessed was holding out.
But Shirley Kaiser would not understand that.
The woman’s eyes were bright with fear as she stared at the steel shears centered on her middle finger. Shirley shook her head, signaling No, please no. But she could do little to resist.
“You know you can’t call,” Stephanie whispered.
“I have no choice.”
“Yes,” Hale said, noticing but not hearing their conversation. “Talk it through. Make the right choice. Shirley is counting on it.”
The three other captains stood and watched.
Guns remained aimed at them.
Cassiopeia could not allow this to happen, so she said, “Give me the damn phone.”
MALONE TIGHTENED HIS SEAT BELT AND PREPARED FOR LANDING. The descent from thirty thousand feet had been rough. The pilot had informed him that the storm was moving north and that they were skirting its trailing southern edge. Edwin Davis had called twice to say that nothing had been heard from Cassiopeia, but no further gunfire had been heard, either.
Which did not comfort him.
He’d already reloaded his weapon and stuffed two spare magazines into his jacket pockets.
He was ready to move.
Just get me on the ground.
KNOX STOOD ABOVE THE DECAYED HALL AND STARED DOWN from the wall walk at Wyatt and Carbonell. He’d heard Wyatt when he told her that the lost pages waited below, in the dark chasm through the floor. He watched as Wyatt secured a rope to one of the pillars that had once supported the roof. Wyatt had descended first, then Carbonell. A light had switched on below, then faded. Should he follow, or just wait for them to return? What if there was another way in or out?
He thought of his father, the legendary quartermaster.
A wave of shame swept over him. He’d sold out. Done the one thing his father never would have done.
His father had, in fact, accomplished the impossible.
He’d killed a president.
John Kennedy acquired the White House thanks to a coalition that his own father, Joe, secretly forged. It involved political bosses, labor unions, and organized crime. Quentin Hale’s father had been close with Joe and made a deal with the Kennedys. Agree to honor the letters of marque once you’re in the White House, and the Commonwealth will deliver money and votes.
Which it did.
But all of that camaraderie was forgotten after the election.
The Kennedys turned on everyone, including the Commonwealth. Labor and the mob were at a loss as to what to do.
Not so the captains.
They recruited an inept Russian defector named Lee Harvey Oswald to assassinate Kennedy, then had the terrific good fortune of Jack Ruby murdering Oswald.
No trail led anywhere.
Conspiratorialists had theorized for decades as to what really happened, and they would for decades more. But no one would ever know the truth. His father had been a true quartermaster.
Loyal to the end.
Maybe it was time he acted like one again, too.
He’d need a light.
He carried no flashlight, but one was upstairs, lying beside the two corpses.
He headed that way.
CASSIOPEIA ACCEPTED THE PHONE FROM HALE THROUGH THE bars.
“Make this short and convincing,” he said to her. “Just a nod of my head and she loses a finger.”
She snatched the unit from his grasp and dialed the number she’d memorized. Edwin Davis answered on the second ring.
“What’s happening there?” he asked.
“All is good. But I haven’t located Stephanie or Kaiser. This is a big place.”
“The shooting we heard?”
Hale clearly thought that the men who’d come were connected to her. After all, they’d arrived at the same time. Of course that was false, but on hearing that connection Davis might get the message.
“Our men made a mess of things,” she said. “They shot up the place, but ended up dead. The tactic didn’t work. I’m okay. Looking around, but the place is full of activity.”
“Get out.”
“I will. Shortly. Right now, I want a little more time. Sit tight.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You’re not here and I am. We’ll do this my way.”
A pause. Then, Davis said, “All right. Your way. For a little while longer.”
She ended the call.
“Excellent,” Hale said. “Even I believed you. Who was that?”
She kept silent.
Hale raised a hand, as if to say, One drop and her finger’s gone.
“NIA special agent. He’s in charge here. The m
en were ours, too, as you already know.”
Hale smiled. “Where’s Andrea Carbonell?”
“That I don’t know. She doesn’t check in with me. She gave us orders, we followed them.”
A man entered from outside armed with an automatic rifle and hustled over to Hale. He whispered something to his captain, then withdrew.
Hale relieved her of the phone. “A slight problem. The storm is passing, but a fog has settled in. The Pamlico is infamous for its fogs. This one will delay our departure for a short while.”
“Where are we going?” Stephanie asked.
“As I mentioned to you earlier, a sail on the Atlantic.”
Cassiopeia watched the doctor. Shirley wasn’t resisting as much since the call had been made and Hale seemed satisfied.
“More killing on the high seas?” one of the other captains asked Hale.
“Edward, I would not dare hope for you to understand. Soon our letters of marque will be irrefutable and all will be right with our world again. These three ladies are no longer useful toward that result.” Hale turned to Cassiopeia and Stephanie. “You must know that?”
“We have your man in Virginia,” Cassiopeia said. “In custody.”
She was hoping that might slow him down.
Hale shrugged. “Tomorrow our lawyers will visit him. He knows that he will be protected so long as his lips stay sealed. Nothing will lead here.”
She’d suspected as much, as had Edwin Davis.
“What man in Virginia?” one of the other captains asked.
“A loose end that had to be plugged, thanks to you three’s stupidity.”
“You’re going to regret having guns pointed at me,” another of the captains said.
“Really, Charles? What do you plan to do? Grow a backbone?” He turned back toward Cassiopeia. “So you’ll know, I had nothing to do with trying to kill Danny Daniels. That was their undertaking entirely. Foolishness.”
“And this is smart?” the captain named Charles asked Hale.
“This is necessary. Two of my crew are dead.”
Hale turned toward Shirley.
“No,” Stephanie yelled.
Hale nodded.
And bone snapped.
EIGHTY