CHAPTER
61
YOU NEED TO take me to your brother, Puller, and you need to do it now.”
“Is that right?” he replied impassively.
Knox had pulled back onto the road. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you obviously have a way of contacting him.”
“I do.”
“Then contact him and arrange a meeting.”
“Why? You plan on putting the handcuffs on him?”
“I don’t arrest people, Puller. I talk to them. I gather intelligence, not fingerprints and suspects.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but how do I know I can trust you?”
“You can’t trust me, that’s sort of the point. But you also have zero options. So you either take me to him or I make my speed dial and you go to the stockade. And I’ll still find your brother. But by then I won’t be nearly as nice. Am I making myself clear?”
“I get the gist of it,” he conceded.
Puller slipped out his phone and sent a coded text to his brother. “I’ll have to wait to hear back from him.”
“Yeah, well, he better not beat around the bush. And if you sent him a warning in that gibberish I just saw you type, then your military career is over.”
“And here I thought you liked me.”
“I don’t like anybody that much,” replied Knox. And she clearly wasn’t joking.
Puller heard back from his brother ten minutes later. He had included a warning in the text. But his brother had chosen to ignore it.
The message was short and to the point: Where and when?
“Tell him to meet us at my hotel room at the W. Number 406. In one hour. That is if he’s sufficiently caught his breath from the NASCAR ride.”
“Do you think that’s a wise meeting place?”
“I doubt anyone would be looking for your brother right down the street from the White House. ‘Hiding in plain sight’ is the phrase, I think. And I assume he’s changed his appearance.”
“Yes, he has.”
“Well, then?” she said expectantly, lowering her gaze to his phone.
Puller typed it in and sent the message off. He looked at Knox. “You like calling the shots?”
“No. I love calling the shots. Now let’s get going. I need to prepare to meet the famous, or perhaps infamous, Robert Puller. And I want to look my best.”
Puller sat in a chair by the window. Knox was perched on the edge of her bed. Someone knocked on the door. Knox motioned to Puller. “Probably better if he sees your face first.”
Puller rose and answered the door. His brother quickly stepped in and Puller closed the door behind him.
Robert Puller was holding his duffel. He gazed around the room before settling his eyes on Knox. She had removed the bandages and done her hair. She had also showered and changed her clothes. She had on jeans, a blouse, and calf-high boots.
She didn’t stand when Robert came in, nor did she extend her hand. She just gazed up at him, an inscrutable look on her face.
No one seemed to want to disrupt the silence. Both Pullers’ faces showed the strain they were feeling. Puller knew that if Knox decided to drop the hammer, his brother would be back at the DB tonight. And Puller would probably be right there with him. And there would be nothing he could do about it. His gaze sought out Robert’s and he could tell by his brother’s expression that he was thinking pretty much the same thing.
It was Knox who finally broke the silence. She said to Robert, “You could get a job in the hair and makeup department at any studio in Hollywood. And I’m speaking from experience. We use some of their techniques in my line of work.”
Robert said nothing to this and Knox pointed to a chair next to the one Puller had been occupying. “Why don’t you gents take a seat and we can have a nice chat about things.”
The brothers looked at each other and then took their seats.
Knox began without preamble. “I’m in military intelligence, which means I like listening a lot more than I do making speeches. But this time I’m going to make an exception. Point one: I should turn you both in. You have enough charges against you that it would take me six months to fill out the friggin’ paperwork. Which is a good enough reason in itself not to. But I’m very much into quid pro quo.” She settled her gaze on Robert Puller.
“Point two: Like your brother, I don’t believe you’re guilty. But you were convicted and sentenced, which means, in the eyes of the military, you are guilty.”
Robert still remained silent.
“So we get to point three: The real traitors are still out there. And we have to catch them. And I plan on using you as bait to do it. I’m not asking you. I’m telling you,” she added. “That’s the quid pro quo for me not turning you in right now.”
Robert looked at his brother.
Puller said, “Have you really thought this through, Knox? There’s a lot more that can go wrong with it than right.”
She looked at him incredulously. “Are you really going to lecture me on the pros and cons of risk-taking after the crap you pulled with him?”
Puller shook his head. “I had to do that out of necessity. You have a choice. And you need to make the right one. Meaning the right one for you. I made my bed. Don’t be concerned about what’s going to happen to me.”
“You could both just turn me in,” said Robert. “In fact, from your perspective that would be the best plan. You’ll get a promotion, a medal, and a pay bump.”
“I’m not really into promotions, medals, and money,” Knox retorted. She looked at Puller. “I’m more into getting my job done. How about you? Or would you rather turn your brother in so they can pin another ribbon on your manly chest?”
“What do you think, Knox?” asked Puller.
“So to be clear, do I take that as a yes?” she replied.
“Just tell us the plan.”
She didn’t hesitate. “I want to confront Reynolds.”
“We’ve confronted her before,” countered Puller.
“Right. But now you guys just left a litter of wreckage across D.C. I’m betting that the cops are going to find somebody alive in either the Benz or the SUV.”
“So?” asked Puller.
“So Reynolds won’t know whether they did or not. She won’t know whether one of her goons has fingered her. We can go in with that leverage and squeeze her until she breaks.”
“I’m not sure that will work,” noted Puller. “She’s a tough nut to crack.”
“There’s something else,” said Robert. They both looked at him.
“What?” asked Knox.
“When I interrogated her I asked her who she was working with.”
“What did she say?” demanded Knox.
“That she was working with the Russians. I have it on my phone recorder.”
“I believe you. But what’s the point?” said Knox.
“When she said it, her micro-expression betrayed her. I was watching her reflection in a mirror I set up.”
“How did it betray her?” asked Puller.
“Her eyebrows were drawn upward, causing short lines across the forehead.”
“Characteristic of someone lying,” said Knox.
“She also touched her nose.”
“The nose?” said Knox. “Haven’t heard of that one.”
Puller said, “When you lie a rush of adrenaline to the capillaries in the nose causes it to itch. So people who are lying tend to involuntarily scratch it.”
Robert nodded. “Right. But I checked her c.v. Reynolds worked on interrogation teams in the Middle East extracting intelligence out of people, hardened people who did not want to give it up. She taught interrogation tactics as well.”
Puller said, “So she would know the micro-expression and that nose scratching when answering a question would signal a lie.”
Robert said, “Correct. And she knew I had training in reading faces as well. Many of us did at STRATCOM. And she must have seen the mirror I was using. But she screwed up, I just didn’t see it until later.”
“How?” asked Knox.
“Though I knew she was lying to me throughout, this was the only time she exhibited those indicators. She truly has impressive self-control.”
Puller said, “So when she answered, ‘Russia’?”
“She was actually telling the truth,” finished Knox.
“That’s what I think, yes. She was playing it too cute, actually. Often people who think they are more intelligent than anyone else do that. It would have been better if she had done the nose touching and micro-expressions throughout, to confuse me.”
“So if the Russians are involved in this, it must be big,” said Puller. “Whatever it is.”
Knox added, “In fact it seems over the last several years that Moscow has been able to read our collective minds. They seemed to be always a step ahead of us. In a million different ways.”
“Well, if they had Tim Daughtrey as a mole at STRATCOM allowing them a back door into our secure communications that’s quite understandable,” said Robert.
“I think Reynolds has been spying on us for a long time,” said Knox. “Maybe ever since her days on the START verification team. She could have been turned to their side during that time.”
“Where exactly do you want to do this?” asked Puller. “Her house is being watched. Donovan Carter told us that. So that’s out. If you want Bobby to tag along, we can’t confront her at DTRA, for obvious reasons. So that’s out.”
Knox held up her phone. “I’ve been having Reynolds followed.”
“Since when?” asked Puller.
“Since she got the upper hand on us at her house,” said Knox.
“And where is she right now? Did she leave the restaurant and go home?”
“No.” Knox stared at her phone screen. “She has another house. A cabin, actually, a ninety-minute ride west of here in Virginia.”
“And she’s on her way there?”
“She’s almost there right now.”
“A cabin?” asked Robert. “She must have a purpose for it.”
“She may use it as a safe rendezvous spot,” noted Knox. “And she might be meeting with whoever she’s partnering with on this. If so, I’d love to nail them all.”
Puller rose. “Then let’s get going.”
Knox rose too and put a hand on his arm. “But let’s get one thing straight. I’m running this op, not you, certainly not your brother. You will follow my lead at all times. Are we clear on that? Whatever it is, you will follow my lead.”
The Puller brothers glanced at each other. Robert nodded and then so did Puller.
Knox eyed them both for another long moment, seemed satisfied, turned, and led them out of the room.
John Puller muttered to his brother, “Why do I always end up running smack into the hard-ass women?”
“Heard that,” called out Knox.