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And so they sat, their arms stretched across the table, wrists bound together. Mack looked comparatively peaceful, Maggie decided. The decision had been taken out of his hands, and for the moment he seemed to accept it.
The door opened, Ryan’s partner stuck his head in long enough to murmur something to the policeman, and then disappeared again after receiving his orders. And then Ryan did turn to them.
“Well, I hit the jackpot this time, didn’t I?” he said, more to himself than them. “Wanted for murder, the both of you, down in Texas. Not to mention arson and car theft. You’re a likely pair, the two of you.”
“Both of us?” Maggie shrieked, having innocently assumed Pulaski was the only suspect.
“Arson?” Mack said, sparing Maggie an amused glance.
“The two of you bombed a motel in Texas, stole a car, murdered a man named Peter Wallace, and then fled the country,” Ryan announced. “You care to make a statement?”
“You have the right to remain silent, Mack,” Maggie warned.
“Yes, but what the hell are we going to do about a lawyer?”
“I don’t know, kid,” she drawled. “You just fired me.”
“I don’t think you’re going to have much luck assembling our defense from a prison cell.”
“I don’t think we’re going to be in a prison cell,” she said.
“Why not? As far as I can tell, that might be the safest place,” he countered.
“Such innocence. Mancini could get to you faster there than anyplace else. Fortunately, I’m a damned good lawyer, and I can get us out of this before that happens.” She gestured toward the listening Ryan. “Better watch it. Little pitchers have big ears.”
“Don’t mind me, folks,” Ryan said affably. “This is all very interesting.”
“I’ll bet it is,” said Maggie, the lawyer in her reemerging. “What are we waiting for, Officer? The paddy wagon?”
“We’re waiting for word from my superiors. Then it’ll be off to Center Street with you, I expect. That is, if you don’t mind,” he added with exaggerated courtesy.
“I thought you said we weren’t going to jail, Maggie May,” Mack said, flexing his wrist in its metal casing.
“You aren’t.” A new voice entered the conversation, coming from the open door, and Maggie let out a cry of relief.
“Jackson!” she cried. “My savior. At least, I hope so.”
Mike Jackson, head of the Washington branch of Third World Causes, Ltd., ducked inside the door, followed by another man. “Not me, Maggie. Hamilton here is doing the honors.”
Maggie took one look at the man, at his nondescript three-piece suit, his forgettable face, medium coloring and middle age, and recognized him for what he was. “And why is the CIA saving us?” she questioned coolly.
Hamilton’s nod of approval recognized her perception. “Orders, Miss Bennett,” he said in a voice that matched his bland exterior as he flashed his identification at Ryan. “Thank you, Officer,” he said. “You’ve done an excellent job today, and I’m sure we can count on your discretion in this matter?”
Ryan looked torn. On the one hand, having made such a glamorous collar was more excitement than he usually had in months. On the other hand, his shift was almost over, and the paperwork involved in an arrest like this one was monumental. Not to mention the hassle of going up against the U.S. Government. He shrugged, accepting his dismissal. “Sure thing,” he muttered. “But tell ’em to keep their clothes on in public next time.” He glowered at everyone in general. “You still want ’em cuffed?”
“That won’t be necessary, Officer Ryan,” Hamilton said. “They won’t be going anywhere until we’re ready.”
Ryan slammed the door shut behind him. Hamilton took a seat at the table, Jackson followed suit, and Mack just watched them. Maggie felt oddly distant and removed. Things were out of her hands, finally, and for once in her life she was ready to give up control. Let the CIA figure it out this time; let Jackson, Peter Wallace’s heir apparent, deal with it.
“We need your help,” Hamilton said without preamble.
“Fancy that,” Maggie said lightly, sparing a glance at Mack’s stony profile. “Mine or Pulaski’s?” She knew the answer. She just wanted to make certain Mack heard it from the source.
“Both, I’m afraid. Van Zandt won’t have it any other way.”
“God knows, we have to please Van Zandt,” Mack said. “What do you want us to do, and what are you willing to give us in return?”
“I wouldn’t say that now is the time for bargaining,” Hamilton said sternly. “You’re in enough trouble as it is. Your only chance of clearing things up is doing as we say.”
