96

LUCY AND I WALKED free of the private plane. Our papers had been stamped and the custom official waved us through. Thank you, Kenneth and flight crew. Borders. Do they even matter anymore?

We exited the airport and walked along the short service road. A car pulled up, and I pushed her into the backseat and then followed. I’d phoned ahead.

“Hello,” August Holdwine said.

“Mr. Nice Guy. You just committed professional suicide,” Lucy said, as he pulled the car away from the curb.

“Career advice from you is rich,” he said. “How are you, Lucy?”

“I should have married you. Not him,” Lucy said.

“Be nice. August is going to get the credit for your capture,” I said.

“You’re not surrendering to the Company?” Lucy jerked her head to look at me.

“No. I’m going to go get our kid. Thanks again, August.”

August glanced at Lucy in the rearview. “I always thought it was iffy to trust you. I hate being right so often.”

I could feel the defensiveness rising in her. “You’re betraying the Company yourself, going out of bounds to help Sam.”

August said, “You got a limited imagination, Lucy. Certain people in the Company might entirely approve of what I’m doing. As long as it nabs you.”

Lucy opened and then shut her mouth.

“You mean we have help?” I asked.

“No. You have me,” August said. I wasn’t sure how tough we could be. I was injured, and August had been shot in the arm. We weren’t exactly a pair of badasses.

Lucy seemed to study these words, as if they hung in the air above August’s head.

“Where’s Howell?” I asked.

“Summoned to Langley. Whatever technology you found these guys have, it has set off a firestorm.”

“The rendezvous is in one hour,” Lucy said. “I suggest you drive a little faster, since you’re in such a hurry to be a hero.”

“There has to be a reason they’re meeting at Yankee Stadium,” August said.

“A demonstration,” I said. “You want to prove a bullet can truly, without fail, seek out a single target among thousands? A crowd is the best way to make your point, without a doubt. So who’s the target?”

“Any of the star players,” August said. “And the governor was scheduled to throw out the first pitch, I checked, but he had to cancel.”

I looked at her, thinking of the photos of the kids I’d seen on Zaid’s computer. “Kids. Are they going to kill a kid at this game?”

Lucy said, “I told you, I don’t know if there’s even a demonstration. That’s between Edward and the buyer. It seems awfully risky to me.”

I said to August, “Do you have a liaison with the Yankees security or police detail?”

“Yes, but I ask them anything, they’ll want to know my source. And I’m supposed to be on leave.”

“Do they know that?”

“I imagine not.”

“Say the tip’s anonymous. Call. Find out if there are any groups of kids being brought in.”

August phoned his contact. “Hey, Lieutenant Garcia, this is August Holdwine at the Manhattan CIA office.” Pause. “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. I’m kind of dodging channels here, but I thought I better talk direct to you. Do you have any groups of kids coming in for today’s game? We picked up some chatter that talked about targeting a kid.” He listened. “Okay, no, I don’t have more than that.” He listened some more. “Can you give me a rundown?”

“If Edward sees you coming, our son is dead,” Lucy said. “Just so you know.”

“Not if he gets caught first.”

“I wouldn’t be willing to risk it,” she said, as though I were the bad parent.

August got off the phone. “Twenty-seven kids groups there today, everything from orphans being brought in from a Catholic orphanage in Queens to Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts and prep-school groups. They’re going to put extra security around them all, but Garcia needs to know more.”

“We don’t have more.”

“This is getting people’s attention, Sam.” August glanced at me in the car. “I suspect the police are going to want to talk to me as soon as I get to the stadium. I can’t back you up if I’m chatting up Garcia. They’ll want threat assessments—”

“Good.” I raised my hand.

“Like a cop can stop that bullet once it’s fired. Nothing can,” Lucy said.

“We find him before he ever fires,” I said.

“You risk our child to save a stranger’s life,” Lucy said. “I should have killed you in Amsterdam, Sam. At least our son would be safe. If you’re wrong…”

I had been so wrong about so much. I couldn’t be wrong now.