“Let’s not.”
“You were a spectacular soldier, by any measure. Immaculate service record. Such valiant, almost comically fearless leadership during multiple tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, you earned a Medal of Honor, a Purple Heart, a Silver Star, a Campaign Medal, a—”
“You don’t have to recite a fucking laundry list for me, Downs, I’ve got the hardware in a box on my dresser at home.”
“Yet in spite of half a lifetime of discipline, honor, and service to your country, you seem willing to toss it all out the window to protect a skirt. From very deserved incarceration, I might add. What she did is a felony. The Computer Fraud and Abuse Act guarantees her twenty years in a federal pen for that little stunt.”
I feel the blood rising inside me, hear a marching drum beating out an old, familiar song.
Semper Fi. Semper Fi. Semper Fi.
Always faithful. Not only to corps and country, but also to the people I love.
“A ‘skirt’?” I repeat, deadly soft. “A word of advice. Do. Not. Ever disrespect my woman within earshot of me again, or they’ll be sending you back to Washington in a body bag.”
I let that sink in. There’s a rustle of movement from the agents by the door, someone getting a better grip on his gun, but I don’t break eye contact with Downs.
“That girl you just reduced to an item of clothing is the most beautiful, brave, and brilliant person I’ve ever had the privilege to meet. Yes, she plays by her own rules, but that’s only because there aren’t any other rules worthy of her. Not mine, not yours, definitely not any government’s. But even with all the power she wields—and believe me, she’s extremely powerful—she chooses not to harm anyone or anything. You think breaking a few lines of code in a government website is a prison-worthy offense? If she wanted to, she could break everything. She’s got a key inside her head to how everything works. Technology, electronics, satellites, weapons, she’s got a road map of the entire system. She knows all its vulnerabilities. She could create chaos and disruption on a global scale, but she doesn’t. She chooses not to.
“Think about that. If you had the ability to do anything you wanted without ever getting caught, what would you do? Make yourself rich? Change property title records so you owned the Hawaiian Islands? Start a war in the Middle East?”
Seemingly unoffended by my threat on his life, Downs considers my question. “I’d stuff my ex-wife’s boyfriend’s computer with kiddie porn and make an anonymous phone call to the relevant authorities.”
“Exactly my point. Think about the pure decency it takes to be able to rule the whole world, and choose not to.”
He mulls that over for a while. “But she did get caught.”
“You’re still not listening. She got caught because she wanted to.”
“Why would she want to get caught?”
I close my eyes, pinch the bridge of my nose for several seconds, breathe in and out slowly for a count of five. That usually helps when I’m developing a massive headache, but this time, no such luck.
“Don’t pop a blood vessel, Mr. Hughes.”
I mutter, “Going in circles like a chicken with its fuckin’ head cut off makes me want to pop something, I’ll tell you that.”
“Let’s recap. For some mysterious reason known only to her, Tabitha West decided to hack into the NSA’s database—”
“Knowing you were on the way, knowing she’d be taken into custody immediately, possibly knowing the exact location where you’d take her.” A thought occurs to me. Wheels turn inside my head. Gears start to click, coming together like fingers interlacing. “But maybe that wouldn’t even matter. Maybe all she had to do was…”
Set the trap.
My entire body goes cold.
Downs cocks his head and says, “Looks like you just had quite the epiphany, Mr. Hughes. Care to share?”
“The only way you’ll catch him is by using me as bait.”
“I still have the dagger…you know what has to happen next.”
“Let the hunt begin.”
I bolt to my feet, knocking the chair over. A sound I’m intimately familiar with instantly follows.
Downs doesn’t need to reach for his sidearm because I’ve got a pair of freshly cocked shotguns and two Glocks pointed at my chest. He looks up at me, his brows raised.
“You know what a margay is?”
Downs nods. “A nocturnal predatory cat native to Central and South America that can mimic the sounds of baby monkeys in distress to lure worried adult monkeys, who the margay then kills and eats. They’re a highly intelligent trickster, but small, so they use brains instead of brawn to hunt.”
When I blink, surprised, he shrugs. “Animal Planet. My ex loved that show. You were saying?”
“I’m saying Tabby just took a page from the margay’s book.”