“Well, that’s a relief. Sure, we’re facing the most powerful covert organization on the planet, and in possession of stolen information that the president would nuke DC to keep private, but at least you have the beginnings of a plan. I was worried for a second.”
“Hey,” Cooper said, “the way I see it, the chance of success just doubled. Now it’s the whole government against two of us.”
“Three,” said a voice behind them.
They both whirled. Quinn went for his weapon, but Cooper caught his partner’s arm.
She stood with her hip popped, one hand leaning on the other side. A pose, cocky and capable, her lips quirked in that sideways grin. “You left without saying good-bye, Nick. A girl might take that wrong.”
Quinn said, “Who the hell are you, and how did you get here?”
Cooper said, “Hello, Shannon.” She looked good. Damn good. He met her gaze, saw all the levels in it, strength, determination, and, beneath it, some hurt. He smiled in a way he hoped was apologetic, then said to Quinn, “She does that.” To Shannon, he said, “When did you get here?”
“About an hour after you.”
“Smith sent you?”
“No, asshole. I came because you need help. John just provided the plane.”
“How did you find me?”
“I didn’t. I found him.” She jerked a thumb at Quinn.
“You’re the girl from the Exchange,” Quinn said. “And the thing with Bryan Vasquez.”
“And you’re Cooper’s playmate.” She pulled out a stool and took a seat. “So. What are we doing, boys?”
Cooper said, “Bringing down the head of Equitable Services and the president of the United States.”
“Oh good. I was afraid this was going to be dull.”
“I try to keep life interesting.”
“Any train rides planned?”
“If I tell you, it’ll spoil the surprise.”
“Don’t do that. I love surprises.”
“Time out.” Quinn looked back and forth, forth and back. “Would you two quit flirting long enough to tell me what the hell is going on?”
“Bobby, meet Shannon Azzi. The Girl Who Walks Through Walls.”
“Hiya,” she said, and stuck out a hand.
Looking baffled, Quinn took it.
Cooper laughed. For the first time since he’d heard Dickinson’s voice on the phone, he felt something like hope.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“Jimmy’s Mattresses.”
“This is account number three two zero nine one seven. I need to talk to Alpha.”
“Hold, please.”
The speaker of the disposable cell phone was tinny, but it would serve. They’d picked up a couple of them at a mini-mart en route to Quinn’s apartment, a single in a Mount Vernon Square low-rise. Cooper had been there more times than he could remember, knew the furniture and the layout, had crashed on the couch. Quinn stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the night sky; Shannon splayed in a chair, one lithe leg up on the arm.
“Hello, Nick.” Drew Peters sounded the same as ever. Calm, in control. The same as he’d sounded in the video, proposing the murder of innocent civilians. “Are you on your way in?”
“No.”
“I see.”
“I found the drive, Drew. Taped to the back of Teddy Eaton’s coffin. And I’ve watched it. A nasty little snuff film.”
“Omelets and eggs, Agent Cooper.”
“Just Cooper. I don’t work for you anymore.”
“As you like. You understand the situation, though, yes? Roger was clear in his explanation?”
“Very clear. But we’re not going to do it that way.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“An exchange. The drive for my family.”
“I don’t think so. The drive is worthless. You’ll have made copies by now.”
“No. I haven’t, and I won’t.”
A pause. “Why would I believe that?”
“Because you know that I know that even if this video got out, you could make sure that my family died. I mean even after you let them go. This would ruin you, but you’d still be able to act. Not all of your resources work for the DAR.”
Another pause. “That’s true.”