Randall nodded. “So,” he scratched his chin, “how did you know where your sister would leave a clue?”
Devlin sat on the end of the bed. “When we were kids, we watched this documentary on spies and secret agents. We were especially intrigued at how they communicated with their contacts, specifically dead drops. So we...”
Randall sat down on her three o’clock.
“...came up with all these places around the house where we would leave each other notes. We even had a special signal for when a note was waiting...like,” she hesitated, “like placing a certain magnet in a certain spot on the refrigerator.”
He grinned.
She noticed. “Like I said, we were kids. Kids do crazy stuff. And it’s not like we were hiding cigarettes or nudie magazines between the mattresses.”
His face turned stoic. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
She regarded him for a moment. “With a poker face like that, how in the world did you ever make it through CIA training?”
He jerked his head to the right. “I cheated off the guy next to me.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that wasn’t the case. Anyway, the one hiding place Faith and I loved the best was,” she bobbed her head downward, “under the bedpost. We were pretty proud of ourselves for coming up with that spot.”
“I’ll bet.” He gawked at the image on her cell, at the clue left by the missing woman.
After a full minute of studying the digital photo, she shook her head. “What are you trying to tell us, Faith?”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 8
Goodbye
10 MAY—6:08 A.M. (LOCAL TIME)
ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA
Wearing an orange jumpsuit, his hands cuffed in front of his body and clutching a bouquet of flowers, a chain encircling his waist, a man leaned forward while ascending a shallow hill. A rising sun crested the knoll, backlighting trees, shrubs, and headstones.
Flanking the captive man, two men in dark suits and sunglasses escorted him to a tall and shiny gray headstone with black speckles.
“Can you guys,” rotating his head left, then right, the prisoner glimpsed his companions before facing forward and staring down at the letters on the grave marker’s smooth surface, “give me a moment?”
On Prisoner’s left, Dark Suit 1: “We have orders...not to leave you alone.”
Prisoner raised his shackled hands. “And just how do you think I’m going to escape?” He gestured toward his loved one’s final resting place. “She’s my wife, fellas. All I want to do is to say ‘goodbye’ in private.”
DS1 exchanged a look with his fellow agent and tilted his head toward the bottom of the incline.
As the armed men fell back, Prisoner tipped his head back at the sky. “I love you, honey.” He knelt. “We didn’t always see eye to eye on things, but,” he shuffled closer to a clay pot and dug around inside the dirt, “we always loved each other...to the end.”
A tear trickled down his cheek.
His fingers sunk deeper into the soft soil. Touching something hard, he pulled out the object with one hand while arranging the flowers he had brought with the other. “Thank you, dear, for all the good times we shared.” He slipped the black object into his jumpsuit. “I hope we see each other again on the other side; however,” he filled in the pot and looked skyward again, “I fear you and I are going to end up in different places.”
A minute passed. DS1 spied his watch, walked back up the hill, and laid a hand on Prisoner’s shoulder. “Your time’s up. Let’s go.”
*******
THREE MINUTES LATER...
DS1 climbed behind the steering wheel of a black SUV.
DS2 slammed shut the right-rear door and claimed the front passenger seat.
The engine came to life.
Prisoner retrieved the black object from his jumpsuit and fired two quick shots, one at the back of each agent’s head.
They slumped forward.
Prisoner unbuckled the driver, dragged him into the backseat, and found a set of handcuff keys. Five minutes later, dressed in DS1’s dark suit, he piled DS2’s body onto the dead man’s dead partner and rolled into the driver’s seat. He put the transmission in gear and slowly drove away from the cemetery.
*******
8:27 A.M.
RICHMOND, VIRGINIA
Having abandoned the SUV and stolen an older model Toyota in Fredericksburg, Prisoner had driven the foreign sedan to a run-down part of Richmond, finally parking in an alley behind a row of dilapidated buildings.
He exited the Toyota, scanned the area, strolled up to a back door, and pressed a button.
Ten seconds later, a voice from a hidden speaker: “Face the camera...on your right.”
He turned right and looked up.
A buzzer sounded and a latch released.
“Take the stairs on your right to the basement. I’m all the way in the back.”
Opening the door and following directions, Prisoner descended some stairs and traversed a dark hallway before touching fingertips and knifing his way through a wall of hanging beads that acted as a barrier.
Entering a wide-open, dimly lit room, he noted computer equipment stationed around the perimeter and a large rectangular table in the center. Another computer, along with a monitor, scanner, and printer, rested on the tall table.
“It’s been a while, Michael.” In the middle of the technology, a contraption covering his thinning gray hair, a sixty-something man sat hunched over, a desk lamp illuminating his work.
The bead strings swaying and bouncing off one another behind him, Michael removed his black sunglasses and made his way to the table.
“I saw you on the news the other day.” The seated man carefully positioned a photo on a small booklet, gently blew on it, placed the booklet face down on a scanner, and closed the scanner’s lid. “They said you were in custody...for high crimes against your nation.”
“Come on now, Sasha.” After stowing his eyewear in an inner breast pocket on his suit coat, Michael slid a stool closer and perched on it. “Do you believe everything you hear on the news?”
Sasha faced his guest. Magnifying goggles covered his eyes and made them appear larger. “No. But
