Page 117 of Chameleon Killer

I almost laughed. He had used one of my own answers without knowing it. “Your people breach only if I tell them.”

Brewster turned toward me. “You don’t command federal agents.”

“I command the only information coming out of this van.”

He gave me a cool look. “You have no information.”

“I know the floor.” The layout. The entry and exit points.

He wasn’t buying. “You think you know the floor.”

But, I had an ace up my sleeve. “I know her code phrase.”

Something changed in his face. Small, but immediate. “What phrase?”

“Nunya,” I said easily.

“That’s the phrase?”

I smirked. “Nun ya business.”

“Carter.”

Making my face as bland as possible, I said, “If she uses the phrase, I’ll move. If she doesn’t, we don’t.”

“We?”

I shrugged. “Well, you’re already here. Might as well be useful.”

“How do you get the message? Do we have ears on her?”

His attention shifted toward the monitors again. He studied the receiver, the timer, and the building diagram taped beside it.

Before I could answer the first question, he asked, “How long did she agree to stay?”

“When she sends it. No. And she didn’t.” I answered them in order, ticking them off on my fingers.

“You let her enter without an extraction time?”

“I tried.”

“She refused.”

“Clearly.”

“Of course she did.” The anger in his voice wasn’t aimed entirely at Mallory. Some of it was aimed at him and the rest at me.

That made two of us.

Brewster raised one hand to his ear. A nearly invisible receiver sat against his skin.

“Hold positions,” he said quietly. “No one approaches the entrances.”

A voice murmured back, too low for me to distinguish.

He lowered his hand. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t thank you.” And I didn’t plan to.