Holly seemed to recognize the confusion in his expression.
“They didn’t care if I got killed,” she said, “and they knew the odds of capturing Rachel were small, even if she got me. They risked my life just for a tiny chance of getting her.”
The little ghost of shame flickered through Gaul’s eyes again, though only briefly.
“It worked,” he said. “We had cameras hidden in Holly’s home and car and workplace. If we saw her kill herself, we would know with certainty that Rachel was within a mile of that location, in that moment. We had half a dozen drones on station above Amarillo for weeks, and the Miranda satellites tasked on the city 24/7. In the end, we just got lucky. One of the drones identified Rachel in a city park, two blocks from where Holly lived. The drones were armed with low-powered, nonfragmenting warheads. We targeted a spot five meters from where Rachel was standing. The blast wave broke three of her ribs and gave her a concussion. She was still unconscious when my people got to her and subdued her with narcotics.”
“Weren’t the other two with her?” Dryden asked.
Gaul shook his head. “If they were in Amarillo, they weren’t close by when the missile hit. It wasn’t ideal.”
“No, it really wasn’t ideal,” Holly said. “I’ve had armed security for the last two months, wondering every minute if those two women were watching me. Did you know they can gauge their distance just right, so you don’t feel the chill at your temples? Yeah, they’re old hands.”
Dryden considered telling her they had been watching. It made sense that they’d done that, after Rachel’s capture. Audrey and Sandra would’ve been desperate to learn where the girl had been taken. By monitoring Holly, they could eventually learn the names of the military people who’d changed her identity and hidden her in Amarillo. Those same people would have played some role in setting the trap for Rachel—or would know people who had. The daisy chain could’ve plausibly led to El Sedero someday.
Dryden kept it all to himself. Holly was rattled enough already.
“You’re really on board with trying to save Rachel’s life?” Dryden asked.
Holly nodded. “None of this is her fault. She’s a kid. She didn’t choose any of it.”
“She’s dangerous,” Gaul said. “Not just to you. To plenty of people.”
“That issue can be dealt with,” Holly said.
Gaul seemed to be already weary of whatever Holly was referring to.
Dryden looked back and forth between the two of them. “What do you mean?” he asked. “How can it be dealt with?”
“The same way it got started,” Holly said. “Genetic manipulation. We’ve got twelve years’ worth of progress over the drug that was used on Rachel. We know how to reverse it now.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Dryden stared. Holly held his gaze, unblinking.
“It would take months,” she said, “but it would work. If she could be taken alive again, and drugged like she was in El Sedero, it could be done.”
“You don’t know for certain it would work,” Gaul said. “Just because it’s worked in animal trials, that doesn’t—”
“It would work,” Holly said. “Afterward, she’d be a very screwed-up kid who needed years of therapy … but she’d be no more dangerous than anyone else. She could have a chance at some kind of life, anyway. Some kind of happiness, after all this.”
Gaul was shaking his head, looking off.
“So what’s the plan?” Dryden asked. “Assuming there is one.”
“There is one,” Harris said.
“Let’s hear it.”
A look passed between Harris and Gaul.
“What?” Dryden asked.
“It’s another bait trap,” Gaul said. “Using both you and Holly this time. You can opt out, if you like. If so, you’re free to go. The manhunt for the suspect with your face, the guy with the dirty bomb, will be resolved either way; we’ll make up a name for him and announce we’ve killed him. You can go home free and clear.”
“You already know I’m staying in this thing,” Dryden said. “How does the plan work?”
“Don’t you see?” Harris asked softly. “You can’t know that. If you two are the bait, you can’t have the details in your heads. Or Rachel will have them, too.”
Dryden laced his fingers behind his neck and shut his eyes. It was Rachel’s bedroom in Chicago all over again.
“I can tell you this much,” Gaul said. “The two of you will be in a house. It’s on farm land in eastern Kansas, half a mile from a busy street, where there are restaurants and twenty-four-hour stores.”
Dryden saw the point. “You want Rachel to be confident she can get within a mile of us and still be hidden in a crowd.”
Gaul nodded. “But I expect her to get closer, in the end. A lot closer.”