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7
MORGANTOWN, VIRGINIA
REDEMPTION HOUSE
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON
They called her Athena, at her own request. Of course they knew her real name, but no one called her by that name when they had to communicate or when they met here to work at Redemption House, their headquarters in rural Virginia. She said the code name was an added level of security, one she’d picked herself: Athena, goddess of war.
Nikki Bexholt, Athena, looked at the three people standing in front of her, every one of their faces grim. She’d selected each of them carefully, some for their expertise, some because of their unquestionable loyalty to her. Jasmine Palumbo, her team leader, a supervisor in Bexholt’s client security division, stood tall and straight, with her arm in a sling, guilt radiating off her in waves. Cricket Washburn, supervisor of campus security at Bexholt, managed only an occasional furtive glance toward her. And Dr. Craig Cook, her most precious asset, the shining star in Bexholt’s R&D division, a rare inventive talent, an electrical engineering genius. He was her brain trust with his bald head and his Fu Manchu mustache he hoped made him look less like a nerd, but didn’t. He’d actually been excited about snatching Cummings off the street, undoubtedly pictured himself as a debonair badass. Now he looked more scared and miserable than Jasmine or Cricket. Well, he wasn’t a trained operative, and he never would be. It had been her mistake to think otherwise, a mistake to think any of them were more than the rankest amateurs. But she realized what they needed now was reassurance, her word this was only a minor mishap. They needed some spine, something that seemed at the moment to be in short supply.
She said in her usual cool, clipped voice, “It wasn’t only you who failed, Jasmine. Our assessment of Cummings, and of the risks involved, was flawed. I thought with a quick injection, a forty-five-minute drive in Jasmine’s SUV, we could get Cummings here without a problem, and believe me, once we had him here, we’d have convinced him there was no choice but to cooperate. I’ll admit, it wasn’t the best-laid plan, but what’s done is done.
“We have a situation now, and we need to deal with it. Be thankful you weren’t arrested, Jasmine, and fortunately your injuries aren’t too severe.”
Jasmine Palumbo lightly rubbed her arm through the sling. At least it no longer ached like a rotting tooth with the oxycodone on board. She pulled back her shoulders, ready to accept the ax belonged on her own neck. “Still, I blew it, Athena, it’s all on me. I was watching from my car, on my way around the block, expecting to pick up Craig and Cricket holding up Cummings between them. I couldn’t believe it when I saw Cummings running full-tilt out of the alley, no sign of Craig and Cricket, and I panicked, thought I could head him off. I didn’t see the light turn red, didn’t see the Volvo until it was too late. I was told the woman driving the Volvo is recovering in Washington Memorial, a concussion the worst of her injuries.”
She swallowed. “To make it worse, it wasn’t just any driver, like some student or housewife from Foggy Bottom. No, the woman I hit is FBI Special Agent Lacey Sherlock, the one who topped the media charts several months ago. Believe me, I was public enemy number one to the cops at the Daly Building. They were ready to throw me in solitary and flush the key.”
Athena shook her head, laughed. “Jasmine, regardless of your screwup, it could have been worse. You could be the one in the hospital. Good news is it’s been ruled an accident and you’re not in jail. Nor do they have a way to connect you with Justice Cummings. Of course, we have no way of knowing where Cummings is, and the last word from Artemis is the CIA doesn’t know, either. She’s got people out looking for him. If she finds him first, she’ll make sure he’s brought to us, as originally planned. He’s either badly hurt, or he’s hiding—from everyone, the CIA included. It would be best if we were the ones to find him, people.”
Cricket Washburn said, “We know Cummings has to be hurt. We saw his blood smeared all over the FBI agent’s windshield.” She plowed nervous fingers through her short spikes of blood-red hair. “I don’t know how he was able to move quickly enough to hide from Craig and me, but he managed it. On the opposite street, we saw a few blood spots, but they soon disappeared. We searched the whole neighborhood, but we couldn’t find him.”
Jasmine said, “At least Craig and Cricket had their sunglasses and hats on the whole time. They won’t be identified, even if the police check the cams in the area, try to run facial recognition.”
Craig said, “I’ve tracked down the names of some of the people Cummings knows, but we haven’t found out yet where his wife and children are. No one’s been in his house in Fairfax. Ellie’s there, as you know, waiting for him to show.”
Jasmine said, “If he’s gone to ground, maybe to some cheap motel where he paid with cash, we have almost no hope of finding him. Not unless he goes home to fix himself up, pack some clothes, and take off again. Then Ellie will see him.”
Craig said, “I might be able to access the traffic cams, at least see what direction Cummings went after he was thrown off the hood, but that’s not going to be much help. The truth is, Athena, unlike the CIA, we don’t have the resources to find him.”
“Well, if the CIA finds him first, Artemis will contact me immediately,” Athena said. “In any case, Cummings has no idea who you are or why you chased him. If he surfaces on his own and goes, say, to the police, then it’ll be a different ball game. Oh yes, Artemis has arranged quite a surprise for him at the CIA.”
Jasmine, twisted with guilt, said, “Still, it’s my fault we don’t have Cummings. I’m very sorry, Athena.”
Athena said, “Jasmine, Craig, Cricket, it’s over and done. Let’s review how things stand.” She held up one finger. “Metro knows your name, Jasmine, and that you’re employed at the Bexholt Group. You and I will go over how to handle the police or anyone else who interviews you. I know someone will, given you struck an FBI agent. They might check your background from all the way back in Hannibal, Missouri, to find out your father’s in prison for bank robbery. But you can tell them you’re estranged from both your parents, and none of that will matter. Your record is clean, you have a professional degree and a responsible job.” A second finger went up. “We need to be prepared for either Metro or the FBI identifying Justice Cummings as the man who left his blood on the scene. The FBI will jump on it with both feet if they find out he’s CIA, a federal employee who was being chased by parties unknown, and is now missing.” She leaned forward, splayed her palms on the table in front of her. “If they do, Artemis will see to it they get nowhere near finding out what he was working on. That we can’t allow. No way will they find out we are already negotiating a price with the Russians about your smart wall, Craig, and that Cummings is missing because he stumbled across it. Obviously, if I’m wrong, if Artemis is wrong, it could be the end.”
Athena paused. “So, we all need to go to work as usual, continue as if nothing has happened. This will still turn out all right. Artemis has her end covered. We’ll continue to look for Justice Cummings.
“There is something else you should know. Agent Sherlock’s husband is Agent Dillon Savich. Yes, I see you’ve heard of him as well as his famous wife. He’s very high-profile and he’s smart. We cannot underestimate him. You can count on his being interested because his wife was involved in the accident. We have to be careful he gets nothing.
“People, there’s no turning back now, for any of us. We need to have everything in place by Monday.”
When Athena was alone again, she walked to the window and looked out over the rolling Virginia hills, dotted with houses and thick copses of maple and oak. She took several deep breaths. It would be all right. She was not going to let this man Cummings destroy what she’d planned so meticulously. She’d waited too long, and she’d worked too hard. It would be all right.
