The Sixth Man (51 page)

“Status?” he asked eagerly.

“The Mall is filling up. I have a prime post. All the players are in place or soon will be. When will you be on the ground?”

“Three hours and twenty minutes.”

“I hope to have good news to welcome you with, sir.”

“Not that you need a reminder, but you pull this off, there’s fifty million dollars waiting for you, tax free. And I’ll throw in another ten million as a bonus. You’ll never have to work another day in your life.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Quantrell. More than you know.”

“Good luck, Harkes.”

As Harkes clicked off he thought,
None of this will be about luck.

He made another call.

This too was answered on the first ring.

Ellen Foster was at her home sitting on her bed. She was still in her nightgown, her hair unkempt and her gut full of acid. Today was Saturday. She had had an event planned for out of town but had her people reschedule it, citing illness. Which wasn’t far from the truth. She felt quite sick.

“Harkes, how’s it going?” Her voice was high-pitched, riddled by nerves barely held in check.

“Things are coming into place. But you need to take a few deep breaths and get yourself under control.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

He heard her following his advice. One-two-three deep breaths. When she came back on the line, her voice sounded almost normal.

“Have you spotted them yet?”

“No, but I wouldn’t expect to. They have a while yet. And
knowing them, they won’t show themselves a second before it’s necessary.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because if it were me, I wouldn’t either.”

“You really think they’ll come?”

“Frankly, I can’t control what they do, Secretary Foster. All I can do is create an atmosphere where the probabilities are that they will do what we want them to do. And I think that we have.”

“How do you see it going down?”

“They get Riley. We get Roy and Bunting.”

“I disagree. Kelly Paul won’t let it go that easily. When she trapped me in that bathroom at Lincoln Center she was very clear. She wanted her brother back. If she has him she won’t let him go without a fight. It’s just not possible.”

“She lied to you,” said Harkes. “She had her brother the entire time. She was trying to turn you against Quantrell. If she didn’t have her brother, why would she have agreed to come to the exchange? We called their bluff and it worked.”

“You’re right, I’m still not thinking clearly.”

“But I don’t disagree with you about Kelly Paul’s intentions. She’ll try to offer up Bunting only on this exchange. They’ll figure we won’t retaliate if we get something in return for giving up Riley.”

“But what about Roy?”

“I have a plan for that.”

“You mean follow them back to where they’re holding him?”

“Something even better. Look, I’ve got to go. Things are starting to heat up.”

“James, I will be very appreciative when this is all over. I mean that.”

“I understand… Ellen.”

After she put down the phone, Foster gazed thoughtfully out the window of her bedroom. She had not told James Harkes the exact truth. She had kept something back.

Her fail-safe.

And she had done that for one simple reason. While she trusted Harkes, there was only one person in the world that Ellen Foster trusted fully.

And that was Ellen Foster.

* * *

Harkes looked down at the Mall teeming with people rallying to restore peace in the world. They were completely unaware that the potential for violence lay right in their tranquil midst. Down there were a dozen of Quantrell’s paid mercenaries set up in precise tactical positions. They were armed and unafraid to use their weapons. They took orders from James Harkes. It was his job to make sure they were where they needed to be. Also down there somewhere was Kelly Paul.

Harkes walked briskly down the steps.

On the way he checked his watch.

One hour and twelve minutes to go.

K
ELLY
P
AUL GAZED
up at the Washington Monument. If she were going to have an observation post here, that would have been the one she would choose. As she continued to watch, her surveillance seemed to pay off.

James Harkes exited the monument, turned left, and headed toward ground zero. She followed his path until he disappeared into the crowds.

Paul walked for a while longer before glancing at the man next to her.

Peter Bunting was dressed in faded jeans and a college sweatshirt. A ball cap was on his head and he was holding a sign that read, Make Babies, Not War.

“You blend in nicely at a peace rally, Peter, particularly for a defense contractor,” she told him dryly.

Bunting did not smile at her little joke. “How many do you think they have here?”

“More than they need. Overwhelming force is not just a government prerogative.”

“Do you think Quantrell or Foster are here?”

“Nowhere near the place. Leaders invariably let their minions fight it out.”

“Do you think it will become violent?”

“I have no way to know. I hope not, but it’s really out of my control.”

He gazed at her with respect. “You don’t seem nervous.”

“On the contrary, I am very nervous.”

“You hide it well.”

“Yes I do. And you need to do the same.”

The whole time she was talking she was watching everything going on around them.

“What do you think they did with Avery’s body?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’d like to give him a proper burial.”

“Fine, Peter. But for now let’s focus on those still breathing.”

She looked at her watch.

One hour to go.

Megan Riley was wedged between two large men who had guns under their parkas. Her hair was filthy, her face was unclean, and there was a deep bruise on her left cheek from a blow she had suffered. Her wrists were rubbed raw from handcuffs she’d worn. Her blouse underneath the jacket was smeared with blood. She had lost weight and her eyes seemed unfocused. She trudged along, her gaze downcast.

Up ahead was the Air and Space Museum. If she recognized it, Riley gave no reaction.

There was now only ten minutes to go.

James Harkes moved through the crowds at a measured pace. He knew exactly where each of his men was positioned. The timing had to be precise. He looked ahead and saw Riley and her two bodyguards heading toward the museum. Riley had been told that she would be killed if she made a sound.

He looked in the other direction. The woman was tall and wore a dark trench coat nearly down to her ankles. The man next to her was taller. He was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and held a sign. They were working their way toward ground zero.

On the north side of the Mall Harkes spotted the man in the wheelchair. He was being pushed along by his companion. The dark-haired woman marched beside them. Their destination seemed to be ground zero too.

Harkes picked up his pace and reached in his pocket. He had to assume that everyone would be armed. If they weren’t they were fools. He said a few words that were picked up by a communication device in his ear.

He glanced at his watch.

Two minutes to go.

Sean and Michelle were almost there. He tapped Roy on the shoulder.

“One minute,” he said softly.

Roy nodded and put his hands on his thighs, tensing his body.

Michelle said, “See any of them yet?”

“Not yet. But they’re here.”

She nudged him with her arm. “Megan between two goons at five o’clock.”

Sean saw this. “She looks like shit.”

“This is going to be tight. You know that.”

“It’s always tight. Do you see Paul and Bunting?”

She nodded slightly. “Nine o’clock.”

Sean glanced that way. “Do you think she sees Megan?”

“I think the lady doesn’t miss much.”

“Get in Secret Service mode, Michelle. Assess threats from all angles.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing ever since we stepped foot on the Mall.”

Kelly Paul gripped Bunting around the elbow. “Thirty seconds.”

“I know,” he said. “Do you see Riley?”

“Have for the last four minutes. Quantrell’s boys on either side of her.”

“How many more around?”

“At least ten, I would think. I don’t know the exact number.”

Bunting stiffened when he saw the man.

He was gliding along; his movements seemed effortless as he slipped through the crowd. This time he was not wearing a black suit, tie, and white shirt, though. The sunglasses hid his eyes, but Bunting was certain they were registering on everything.

“Harkes! Harkes is here.”

“Of course he is,” said Paul softly. “Where the hell do you think he’d be?”

“He scares the shit out of me.”

“He should. We’ve got ten seconds.”

Bunting started breathing fast. “Tell me this is going to be okay, Kelly.”

She gripped his arm tighter. “Almost there, Peter. Keep it together. Almost there.”

She looked at her watch, picked up her pace.

It was all dead ahead.

This was her world. This was Kelly Paul’s version of the Wall.

Five… four… three… two…

T
HEY FACED EACH OTHER
across a two-foot span of grass that in some ways seemed as wide as the Atlantic Ocean.

James Harkes stared at Kelly Paul and she stared right back at him.

Megan Riley, engulfed by her captors, stared dumbly at the ground. Next to Paul and Bunting were Sean and Michelle, with Roy in the wheelchair.

Roy sat up and let his hood fall away.

When Megan glanced up and saw Sean and Michelle her sense of relief was profound.

“Let’s make this easy and simple,” said Harkes quietly. “Send Bunting and Roy over here. And you get Riley.”

“Doesn’t seem fair, does it?” asked Paul. “You get two and we only get one.”

“That was the deal,” said Harkes.

“No, that was the proposal.”

Harkes eyed her with interest. “Do you really want to renegotiate now? My men have ten prearranged targets to hit if I give them the signal. If you want to be responsible for innocent people going down it’s up to you, I guess. But I would advise against it.”

“I can see the logic, Harkes, I really can.”

“But you still disagree?”

“Not necessarily.”

“We don’t have unlimited time here. I need an answer.”

“Suppose we give you Bunting.” She grabbed Bunting’s arm and pushed him forward. He jerked free and scowled at her.

“So I’m the sacrificial lamb,” he snapped. “Blood thicker than water?”

Harkes shook his head. “We need the package.”

“He’s my brother.”

“Half brother.”

“Still,” she said calmly.

“Do you want a demonstration of my intent?” Harkes pointed to a little boy holding a cup of hot chocolate. “I raise my hand he gets a third eye.”

“You’d do that? A kid?”

Harkes looked at her with a blank expression. “I can take out a granny if you’d prefer. The point would be the same.”

“You’re a real bastard, you know that?” she said.

“A remark which gets us nowhere. Shall I raise my hand?”

“You’ll just kill my brother.”

Harkes looked over at Roy, who sat there in the wheelchair. “What if I tell you that won’t happen?”

“Why should I believe anything you say?”

“His brains are a gold mine. Who throws away gold?”

“You mean not for this country?”

“That would be problematic.”

“I’m not a traitor,” said Roy.

“You’d be alive,” replied Harkes. “Your choice.”

“You probably won’t even let us out of here alive, even if we do give him up,” said Paul.

“I give you my word that that won’t be the case.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t blame you. I don’t trust you either.”

“I hope they’re paying you enough to commit treason.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“When did you sell out, Harkes? Do you even remember?”

Harkes’s features hardened for barely a second. “I’m going to raise my hand unless Edgar Roy gets out of the wheelchair and walks over here with Mr. Bunting. Right now. Do you want the kid to be able to finish his hot chocolate?”