WHAM!I slam into Mailan, and Duplass topples onto me, as our SUV spins out and does a 180. When the car comes to a halt, I look out and see dark shapes through the splintered windshield.“WATCH OUT, GET DOWN!” Duplass screams.I see him go for a gun.Mailan unbuckles his seatbelt, then mine, and throws open the door.“Come on!” he yells.We fall onto the asphalt amidst broken safety glass.There is the sound of French being shouted, then BLAM BLAM BLAM!One of the FBI agents in the car screams.Mailan pulls out a gun and aims it under the open door. “Run!” he yells at me.“What about you?!” I shriek.“I’ll be fine – NOW GO!”I take off in the opposite direction, running as fast as I can. The chatter of gunfire erupts behind me, and I hear bullets plink! into metal.The attackers are Epicurus’s men – they have to be.I want to scream at Duplass, So do you believe me now, asshole?But then I think about Mailin lying there in the glass, fighting for his life.I want to help – but ther
The water comes at me so fast. A split second later I’m engulfed in cold, wet darkness. It brings back the memory of when Grant and I parachuted into the English Channel, seemingly an eternity ago – even though it was only three days.I thrash back up to the surface, where strong hands hoist me out of the water and onto the boat.“GO, GO!” I hear Grant scream.Suddenly the boat lurches into motion beneath me, and we take off like a shot across the water.I cough and open my eyes to see Grant looking at me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen in his life.Then he kisses me, hard and passionate, with the intensity of terror turned into joy.For a brief moment, there is nothing else in the world. Nothing else matters, except that I’m reunited with him.He pulls back to look at me, and clutches my wet hair in his hands as he laughs. His eyes glitter and dance as he drinks me in.“Are you okay?!” he asks.I nod. My heart hasn’t quite recovered from the adrenaline tidal wave of t
We climb back into the boat, which is taking on water slowly. Pierre makes a call over his cell phone, which thankfully he has in a waterproof case. Probably standard issue for a man who works on a river. He starts the engine, I start bailing water, and we’re able to limp back to shore, where Marcel and one of his guys are waiting for us with a car. I grab the backpack and salvage the laptop, mostly to keep it out of the hands of the cops. It’s toast – a couple of bullets have gone all the way through. Not a problem, though; I backed up the tracking program on a server before we left. That’s all I need.The boat is halfway underwater and sinking fast when we abandon it and get into the car.“What happened?” Marcel asks as we speed off.“They got Grant.”I’m surprised at how unemotional I am. I refuse to think about the implications of what I just said. All I can concentrate on is getting him back, whatever that takes.“Mon Dieu,” Marcel says, his eyes wide.“It’s okay, I can track hi
Over the protestations of both JP and Dominique, Marcel gives me a burner cell phone. I remember Mailin’s number from the other day, when Grant was on the phone with him during the Eiffel Tower bust and had me repeat it back to him.The memory hurts. All I can think of is Grant’s face – smiling, cocky, alive.No.Stop.Just put one foot in front of the other and DO THIS.I dial Mailin’s number and say a silent prayer.Please God, please let him be alive – Someone answers after a couple of rings.“…hello?” Mailin’s voice says cautiously.“Oh thank God,” I breathe out in relief.“EVE?! Are you okay?!”“Yes – but they got Grant.”“Oh shit…”“Yeah,” I say, and my resentment boils over. “Do you believe me now?”“I always believed you, Eve. But Duplass is definitely convinced.”“So he’s alive?”“Yeah. He got shot, but it was minor. He’ll be fine.”I almost say, Well, that’s too bad, but I refrain at the last second. Not the best move to wish death on the people you need help from.“Are YO
Ten minutes later I’m in a car with two strangers. I’m alone in the back, ‘Driving Miss Daisy’ style.The two guys both look decidedly nervous. I’m guessing that Marcel or somebody told them what might happen.“It’s going to be okay,” I assure them.The guy in the passenger seat looks back and smiles weakly. “Euh… je ne parle pas anglais.”I look at the driver. “Do you speak English?”“Euh…” He puts his forefinger and thumb about a centimeter apart, like he’s pinching something in the air. “A leetle.”Great.I settle back and take stock of what I brought with me. There’s the new laptop; the backpack with the cash, GPS trackers, handgun, super glue, and various credit cards; and the burner cell phone Marcel gave me.Not a whole lot to work with when you’re going up against a psychopath. Especially when you’re trying to save the love of your life.I start seeing signs for ‘Charles de Gaulle,’ so I call Mailin on the cell phone. “Okay, we’re close. Where do we go?”“You’re actually going
The plane taxis to the runway. Take-off is easy, and so is most of the flight.I wish the same could be said for the hacking.I’m able to get into every major telecommunication company’s satellite system, but none of them are running any sort of Atlantic Ocean uplinks – at least, not where Grant’s plane is.Next I try Russian satellites, Chinese satellites, European Union satellites. I don’t need to speak Russian or Chinese, since I don’t need to read emails or web pages. What I’m hacking is called machine code, which is the most basic of all computer languages, and it’s universal.But I still turn up nothing.“Jesus, I forgot how good you are,” Mailin whispers as he watches me work.I smile grimly. “Coming from an FBI agent, that’s damning me with great praise.”“I’m not FBI right now,” he whispers. “I’m your friend.”I look at him, and my eyes fill with tears.“Thank you,” I whisper. “I can’t tell you how much that means.”He nods, and we get back to work.Since I’m not getting anyw
But it turns out the joke’s on me, because the plane flies past Utah, straight on to Nevada – and in a direct line with the Bay Area.“You really think it’s San Francisco?” Mailin asks.“I guess. It makes sense… sort of.” I look over at Duplass. “Now that we know where they’re headed, can we get right behind them? Maybe land immediately after them?”“We’re not arresting them on the tarmac, if that’s what you’re asking.”“Why not?!” I demand.“Because I’m doing this to catch the guy who was behind the deaths of two of my agents, that’s why. Carlson is a distant second.”My anger nearly boils over, but I remind myself that I knew Duplass’s priorities from the beginning. That’s how I was able to manipulate him into letting me come along.“I understand,” I say, holding my temper. “But we want to cut their lead time by as much as possible… just in case.”“Alright,” Duplass says. “Agent Walker, go ask the pilot how close we can get to them.”Mailin stands up.“Hold on,” I say, and activate
Two things happen in parallel.The first thing is we land at Marin County Airport. Duplass must have pulled out all the stops with his FBI credentials, because there’s a black limousine waiting for us at the gate as we taxi in. I personally am overjoyed, because the limo has a high-powered wifi connection. I basically log off from the plane and log on seamlessly to the limo during the thirty steps it takes to get to the car. The limo has one of those ‘everybody faces everybody else’ style of backseats. Duplass, Mailin, and I sit on one side, and JP and Dominique sit on the other. I keep the backpack at my feet.I have to give it to Dominique: she takes one for the team and distracts Duplass as much as she can. They’re sitting directly across from each other, and she puts her all into, even going so far as to undo a couple more buttons on her blouse. Despite all his earlier objections about her being a criminal, Duplass certainly isn’t above ogling her breasts.A retractable barrier i