CHAPTER
63
REYNOLDS SLIPPED THE bedcovers off and rose, drawing a Glock nine-mil that she had hidden under the pillow.
She was dressed in jeans and her feet were bare. She pointed her weapon at Puller, who had risen off the bed and backed away. Reynolds took a few moments to wipe the red off her arm using the sheet from the bed.
Finished, she looked at Robert Puller.
“Theatrical stuff,” she said. “Much like what you have on. Nice job, by the way. Never would have recognized you except for the exterior surveillance cameras at my house.”
“So why Russia, Susan?” said Robert. “They don’t need any help, do they? The Middle East is where it’s at, right?”
She said, “Moscow will always have more staying power than the desert rats. The terrorists will get subsumed into rising economies because they have no clue how to run a country or create jobs. People over there care less about Allah and more about having clean water, electricity, and ways to feed their families. But Russia is a real country. With a real army. With real nuclear capability.”
“And you want to side with a country run by a former KGB agent?” retorted Robert.
“As opposed to what? A country run by old white billionaires and their paid lackeys in Washington?”
“The same goes on in Russia. It’s just overtly backed by the government there.”
She slipped on a pair of shoes that were set on the floor next to the bed. “I’m not going to have a geopolitical discussion with you about the validity of my arguments or positions, Robert.”
“You’ve done incalculable damage to this country’s interests, Susan.”
“Well, as they say, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean,” said Puller quickly.
“Literally what I just said. You think I’ve been working this hard just to kill your brother? He was a piece, a tiny piece of what’s coming.” She smiled. “If you’re still alive, which I doubt, you’ll never forget it.” She glanced at Robert. “On second thought, I might keep you alive just so you can see it.”
Knox pointed her gun down at Puller’s ankle. “Your throwaway. Take it out, muzzle first, and slide it over to Susan.”
Puller lifted his pant leg, drew out the short-barreled pistol, placed it on the floor, and kicked it over to Reynolds, who reached down and scooped it up.
When Puller straightened Knox said, “Anything you want to say to me, Puller?”
He just stared at her.
Robert looked at Reynolds and said, “I’d like to know how you orchestrated all this tonight.”
Reynolds said, “Easy enough. I came up here. Told Veronica. She informed me that she would have you in hand soon and would bring you to me.”
“So you weren’t being followed?” said Robert.
“No,” said Knox. “That’s just what I told you.”
“How long have you two been working together?” asked Robert.
“Not that long, actually,” said Knox. “But it’s been memorable.” She glanced at Reynolds and smiled. “She’s a great persuader.”
Robert said, “But John picked the sides of the house we were going to attack. So how did you know she’d be in the room you were going to be coming in through?”
Knox shoved Robert toward his brother and then put one of the guns in her jacket pocket. She kept the other one pointed at Puller. She reached into her pocket and held up her phone. “I have bars. I called Susan and told her which side I’d be coming in on after Puller made his decision on that. She just crawled on her stomach to that room. And voilà!”
Robert nodded but said nothing. He snatched a glance at his brother, who had still not taken his eyes off Knox.
“Sure there’s nothing you want to say to me, Puller?” asked Knox tauntingly.
Reynolds said, “I don’t think he can come up with the words, Veronica. I can see in his eyes that he never saw this coming.”
Knox said in an annoyed tone, “You know, you could have told me you were going to take out Carter with a bomb. I almost got blown up.”
“Sorry, we had to hurry on that one. And I didn’t know you’d be following him.”
“But why kill Carter?” asked Robert.
“He suspected me,” said Reynolds. “Despite what he might have told your brother, there was going to be an investigation. And that would have been bothersome to me.”
Knox said, “Let’s go.” She shoved Puller ahead of her while Reynolds kept her gun on Robert.
As they walked to the door Puller broke his silence. Speaking in a voice only Knox could hear, he said, “How did you manage that attack in the alley in Charlotte?”
“I thought you might be wondering about that. My gun had blanks. I got you to go running after the others, which gave the ‘dead man’ plenty of time to disappear, after leaving some of his blood behind, of course.”
“Why do it at all?”
“I knew you were still suspicious of me. That was a way to allay that suspicion.”
Puller said, “So was it for the money? Just for kicks? Professional envy? Not getting promoted fast enough? Or maybe missing your fast life?”
“Maybe all of the above.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Puller.
As they walked she looked curiously at him. “What, then?” she said in a casual tone.
“I think your old man had twice the guts you had. You knew you could never live up to that. You probably just invented the bullshit about him. Did you kill him and then come up with the lie about the suicide?”
Knox was unfazed by this barb. “Maybe I did. And after I kill you maybe I can make up some bullshit about how you groveled for your life. Or maybe it won’t be bullshit. Maybe you will. Maybe you’re not nearly as tough as you think you are, Junior.”
“And maybe you’re not as smart as you think.”
“Well, I am holding my gun on you.” She paused and then gave him a knowing look “You wanted me, Puller. In your bed. I could see it in your eyes.”
They were outside the house now and heading to the car. Knox’s voice had risen, and Robert, who had heard this part, quickly glanced at his brother.
“I’d rather put a bullet in my head than lay one finger on you,” said Puller.
“I know you wanted me. You can’t deny that. And it’s not like I’m unattractive.”
“Sure you are, Knox. On the inside. You could be the poster child for ‘beauty is only skin deep.’ My gut on you was right. I couldn’t trust you, because you have no spine.”
“I was wounded on behalf of my country,” she snapped.
“So was I. But I never let scum like her”—he pointed at Reynolds—“talk me into betraying my oath. You’re weak, Knox. Weak. You’re nothing.”
Now Knox’s superior look faded. She stopped walking, turned to Robert, and shoved the muzzle of her gun against his head. “Get on your knees!”
“What?” said a startled Robert.
“On your knees. Now!”
Robert got down on his knees. Knox placed her gun muzzle against the back of his neck and looked at Puller.
“You want to apologize for that comment? Or he’ll get a bullet in his head.”
Puller looked down at his brother and then back up at Knox. “You really want to do this?” he said quietly.
“I have a better idea. I can shoot him with your throwaway.”
She slipped the revolver out of her pocket, pulled back the hammer, and placed the barrel against Robert’s skull.
“You have three seconds to say you’re sorry to me, Puller, or big brother is no more. One, two—”
“I’m sorry,” said Puller.
Knox fired anyway. But she had angled the muzzle to the left so that the round didn’t hit Robert. He yelled out and dropped to the ground clutching his head.
Puller started to rush to his brother, but Reynolds pointed her gun in his face.
Robert sat up and glowered at Knox. “I think you blew out my eardrum.”
“Better than blowing your brains out. I hear you’ve got a big one. Now get up!”
Robert struggled to his feet, still clutching his ear.
When they reached the Lexus, Knox said, “Let’s secure them.”
Reynolds nodded and used zip ties to bind the Pullers. They all climbed into the Lexus. Knox drove. The Pullers sat in back and Reynolds in the passenger seat with her gun trained on them both.
They headed back into D.C. and, following Reynolds’s directions, Knox pulled into an underground parking garage. It was well after midnight and the parking garage was full of cars because it was a residential building.
Knox used a knife to cut the zip ties. “If we meet anyone along the way and you make any attempt to communicate with them, you’re dead and so are they.”
They rode in an elevator to the main floor, and then took a private elevator up to the twelfth floor, for which Reynolds had a key card. The car emptied into a wood- and granite-lined vestibule. Knox nudged Puller in the back with the muzzle of her pistol. They walked into the first room of the vestibule, which turned out to be a large space with walls of windows that offered sweeping vistas of the downtown D.C. area. The lights in the room were dimmed.
Puller looked around. So did Knox and Robert.
However, Reynolds was not at a loss. She stared into one corner of the room where there was situated a desk.
Someone was sitting behind the desk. Only his silhouette was visible.
Reynolds turned to Knox. “I wasn’t going to bring you here,” she said. “Until you did what you did to those two,” she added, indicating the Pullers. “You scared Robert shitless and humbled his egotistical brother. What could be better?”
Knox eagerly eyed the figure behind the desk. “May I be formally introduced?”
Reynolds switched on a light. It barely illuminated the room. Everything was cast in shadows. But there was one thing they could see clearly.
Knox gasped. Puller took a step closer.
Robert said nothing, but he stared at the man sitting rigidly behind the desk.
From the shadows, James Schindler stared back at them, his eyes wide and penetrating. He seemed to be silently appraising the situation.
Knox pulled her gaze from Schindler and looked at Reynolds. “I have to hand it to you, your access goes right to the top.”
Reynolds smiled. “For what we’re planning we needed it.”
“And now I can help you execute that plan.”
“Which is why we’re here. But first things first.” She pulled her gun, slid a suppressor on the muzzle, pointed it at Robert Puller, and said, “You can’t believe how long I’ve waited for this.”
Before she could fire Knox kicked the gun out of her hand. Then she whirled and clipped Reynolds’s legs out from under her. The woman fell hard to the floor.
A moment later Knox tossed two guns. A stunned Puller caught one and Robert the other. The brothers looked confusedly at each other.
Puller said, “Knox, what the hell is—”
Knox yelled out, “I’ll explain later. Keep your guns on Reynolds. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
Robert aimed his gun at Reynolds, who was still on the floor.
When Puller looked over at the desk, Schindler hadn’t moved a muscle. He still just sat there. Puller’s jaw went slack as the truth hit him.
Knox pointed her pistol at Schindler. “You’re under arrest. Get up! Now!”
“Knox!” Puller called out. “Something’s way off.”
Knox shot him a glance. “What?”
The glass behind Schindler shattered as the high-powered round crashed through it.
The Pullers and Knox dropped to the floor.
“That shot came from the building across the street,” yelled out Puller.
Another shot shattered a second section of glass. Then more high-velocity rounds poured through these openings, slamming into walls and the floor. One hit the light fixture and it exploded, throwing them into near-complete darkness.
“What the hell is going on?” shouted Knox from behind the chair where she had taken cover.
“Just stay down,” Puller called back.
“Wait a minute, where’s Reynolds?” cried out Robert.
They all looked around the darkened room.
“I think I heard the elevator when the shots were going off,” said Robert.
They looked around but no one moved. Puller waited for more shots to be fired, but none were.
A moment later Puller rose cautiously and peered at the shattered windows. When Knox started to get up he said sharply, “Stay down. The shooter might still be out there.”
Robert had crawled over to the desk to examine Schindler, who still had not moved, even when the shots had started. “John!” he said frantically.
Puller shot across the room to kneel next to his brother. “What is it?”
Robert pulled back Schindler’s jacket.
As soon as Puller saw it he grabbed his brother and pushed him toward the elevator. “Go! Go!”
He next shouted at Knox. “Run, Knox!”
The three sprinted for the elevator, but when Knox hit the button it did not light up.
“Reynolds might’ve disabled it,” said Robert.
Puller looked left and then right and spotted the door at the end of the vestibule. It was locked when he tried the handle. He pulled his M11 and shot the lock off.
“What is it?” yelled Knox before Puller pushed her through the opening and then did the same with his brother.
“Move!”
He closed the door behind him and sprinted down the steps toward the first landing. Knox and Robert reached it first, turned, and headed down the stairs to the second landing.
Puller had almost reached the first landing when the detonation occurred. The concussive force blew the door to the stairs off its hinges and the compressed air surged downward like a million-mile-per-hour tidal wave.
When it hit the two-hundred-and-thirty-pound Puller he was lifted off his feet as though he were weightless.
The last thing Puller remembered was tumbling headfirst down the stairs. Then he hit something very hard.
And then there was nothing more.