“Look, I need to find Koval. I didn’t ruin my career just to go to jail. You know what they do to cops in jail? I want the money I was guaranteed, and the passport, and a way out of here like he promised me.”
“Wait. You double-crossed Marchuk, too? Was anyone loyal to that guy?” I ask, stalling until the help I hope is on the way gets here. “But I feel you on that dude. I remember when I was in Ukraine—”
Andrews aims her gun in my direction.
“Shut up,” Andrews says. “You talk too much. And too loud. Only thing I need from you is to find Koval for me. It sounded to me like you were working on a plan, superspies.”
“And if we help you, then what?” I ask.
“And then I’ll get the hell out of the country and enjoy an early retirement.”
“You don’t need Bunker for that. I mean, look at the poor guy.” Katie’s right—I’m pretty sure Bunker’s about to hurl any second. “Let him go or I won’t help you.”
“You make a good point. One superspy is probably just as good as two, and a helluva lot easier to keep my eye on,” Andrews says, coming down one more step toward us and taking aim at Katie. “I’ll take Smith with me, but kill the two of you.”
That’s when the doors burst open, filling the stairwell with SWAT officers from behind and above us.
CHAPTER 30
Well, it’s about damn time.
“We had to get in position,” Berg says to me.
My expression must be talking for me, but I let him know in words what I think. “It took you long enough. I was running out of ways to stall her.”
Katie looks over at me and asks, “You—but how?”
“My boss has been blowing up my phone ever since I hung up on her. I answered her last call but didn’t say anything, just left an open line.”
“Man, I was wondering how you were going to get us out of that one,” Bunker says, probably taking his first breath since Andrews said she was going to kill him. He looks like he might pass out.
Katie smiles. “So that whole thing about the busy stairwell being near the office was just letting her know where we were. Not bad for just a hacker.”
“Well, I figured I owed you one,” I say, feeling damned good about myself. Yup, I’ll admit it. “Now we’re even.”
“Well, not that I was counting, but you still owe me one.”
She winks at me and I don’t think she’s just talking about our bad guy count. I swear to God if Berg wasn’t here and several SWAT officers weren’t trying to subdue Andrews—who is putting up one helluva fight—I’d kiss Katie right now.
“Oh, young love. How sweet,” Berg says in a tone that makes it clear he doesn’t find it sweet at all. “At least act like you’re operatives.”
“Operatives, plural?” Katie asks.
“Drop the act. I know who you are. I’ve spoken to your boss. And if we’re keeping score, I just saved both your asses.”
“Only with their help,” Bunker says. “Every perp you have in custody, we wrapped up for you.”
“Who is he?” Berg asks. “Another baby operative?”
“I’ve been deputized by Peter Smith into the Company. Caesar Augustus Octavian Murphy, at your service, sir.”
“That’s your real first name? And second? And third?” I ask Bunker, trying to suppress a laugh.
“Totally suits me, right?”
Not. At. All.
But what I tell him is, “Absolutely. But you know the third name is kind of overkill. Caesar, Augustus, and Octavian were the same person.”
“My father was really into the Roman Empire. Talk about your government spies.”
“We don’t need your family history, just your official statement. Hudson, take Caesar away,” Berg says to his second officer.
That starts me laughing because one, it’s funny, and two, if I don’t laugh I just might lose it after what I’ve been through. Berg apparently doesn’t find Bunker’s name or the situation as amusing as I do. He grabs me by the arm and practically drags me out of the stairwell, across the hall, and into the office. That cures me of the giggles real quick.
I pull my arm from his grip. “If you care about your health, you best stop manhandling me.”
“You’d have to actually be a man for me to do that,” Berg says, apparently in search of an ass-kicking. Forget the CIA training. I grew up on the streets of Southside Atlanta, where they also teach combat skills. After the day I’ve had, I’m about ready to demonstrate them.
“Oh, so you’re calling me a boy, now?”
“I’m calling you under arrest. You and your girlfriend, at least until her government gets here to take her off my hands,” Berg says, and no matter how controlled he’s keeping his voice, I see in his eyes that he’s actually worried I might go off on him, which is enough for me. I get it together long enough to regain my focus, which should be on finding Joel.
“I don’t think so. Peter and I have a mission to complete,” Katie says.
“Rogers will back me on that, Berg. Do yourself a favor and instead of blocking us, help us out. You’re always looking for a promotion, and this is the kind of mission that’ll get you one.”
But Berg isn’t trying to hear anything I have to say, and instead calls over a couple of uniforms.
“Escort this one home,” he says, pointing at Bunker. “Take these two to lockup. And don’t let the kid get away this time, or I’ll—”
“You aren’t taking him anywhere,” says a familiar voice from behind me.
It’s Jones, standing in the doorway and looking hella groggy, thanks to Katie’s drugs. Deep down, I never really suspected Jonesy was on the wrong side, and I totally appreciate the effort, but he must still be out of it if he thinks the school office guy outranks Berg and his team, all of whom have just pulled their sidearms and aimed them at him.
“See? I told you I didn’t give him that much carfentanil,” Katie says. “But it must have been enough to make him delusional.”
“And who the hell are you?” Berg asks.
“Tell your men to stand down,” I say. “He’s Dodson’s receptionist, the one she told you went missing.”
“Oh, I see. We should stand down just because he’s a Carlisle employee, like the groundskeeper and the janitor.”
Okay, so Berg has a point, but I know he and Katie are wrong about Jonesy.
Jones smiles and shakes his head a little, like he knows what’s up and it’s the rest of us who are clueless.
“No, I’m not a Carlisle employee. In fact, you and I have the same employer, Berg—at least at the top level,” Jones says, starting to sound as crazy as I must have a few minutes ago when I almost lost it on Berg. “I’m Special Agent Richardson, FBI.”
Um, what?
“Do you have credentials on you?” Berg asks, scowling and apparently as skeptical as I am.
“I’m undercover, so of course not. Call your assistant director. He’ll verify.”
Berg gestures to Hudson, who gets on the phone.
“In the meantime, I’ll be taking Officer Smith with me for a debriefing. You don’t have any problem with that, do you, Smith?”
“Uh … no?”
“And I’m going with,” Katie says.
“Like hell you’re taking him anywhere,” Berg says to Jones, ignoring both Katie and me. “Even if you’re who you say you are, they’re mine to debrief. At least the boy is. I don’t care about the girl, but he’s CIA.”
I can’t seem to come to my own defense because I’m still too dumbstruck by the fact that mild-mannered Jonesy has been an undercover agent all this time. From now on, I will never trust anyone with the last name of Jones or Smith to be who they claim to be. And also, Katie is right. We really need to get more creative with our cover names.
“He’s who he says he is, chief,” Hudson says once he gets off the phone.
As if to confirm what Hudson has just told us, though I still don’t quite believe it, an FBI agent enters the office, followed by Hudson, and hands Jones a badge, tactical holster, and two handguns.
“Where did he come from? Who let your man in here?” Berg asks. “I didn’t call the FBI in on this.”
Hudson says, “He had credentials, sir. I had to let him in.”