it to her. 'You gave me everything I need.' He shook his head. 'If you had just listened to me, you could have walked away. But not now.' Temple stood up. 'You're going to disappear. Everything about you will be destroyed, and when they're done, it will be as if Anna
Kelso never existed.'
'You can't hide this!' she shouted.
'They already have,' he said, without looking at her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
North Springfield-Virginia-United States of America
The unmarked van rumbled along the central lane of Interstate 495, heading westward into the evening. If any of the other drivers in the sparse traffic had given it a second look, they might have noticed the opaque polyglass slits along its flanks and the air vent in the roof; but there were few people driving at this time of day, and for the most part the 495 was the domain of unmanned cargo haulers. The blank-faced, slab-sided machines hummed past the van, running lights bright around prows that had a whiskered look, like dogfish. Some of them had thinscreens along their flanks denoting cargo and livery, lighting up the road as they passed.
Shafts of color penetrated the interior of the van and made Anna Kelso blink and turn away. She shifted uncomfortably. The orange detainee jumpsuit she wore was scratchy, the fiber-paper material rough in the places where it rubbed on her skin. Restraints around her wrists and ankles gave her limited freedom of movement, but not enough to sit up or appreciably change position.
The only other person in the back of the van was Craig Tyler. His narrow face and small eyes were set in a professional expression of detachment, but Anna knew him well enough to see that he was uncomfortable with the job he'd been asked to do. Temple had charged Tyler and Drake to personally convey her from D.C. out to whatever holding facility they had lined up; the other agent was in the driver's seat, on the far side of the armored bulkhead isolating the rear section of the van.
At first, Anna had been afraid that they were taking her out to some remote spot in the projects, somewhere that they could put a bullet in the back of her head and leave her for dead; but it soon became clear things were not going to be that simple.
All she'd been able to draw out of Tyler was that the agents were taking her to a rendezvous, where she would be transferred into the care of
'contractors.' The word had an ominous ring to it; anyone who had worked inside the Beltway for more than a few months knew that behind that term lay a multitude of sins. Temple had been right; she would end up inside some ghost prison, a 'black site' facility off the grid, and that would be the last anyone would see of her.
'They're going to interrogate me,' she said, her fear giving itself voice. 'Some faceless mercenary, someone with no legal oversight, no due process.' Anna stared at Tyler, who wouldn't meet her gaze. 'And when they're done, when they get all they want from me, I'll be executed.'
She stamped her foot on the metal floor. 'Right here, Craig. On American soil. You know that's not right!'
He was silent for a moment. 'What I know is that you're a terrorist sympathizer, Anna. You've been classified an enemy combatant.'
'Bullshit!' she snapped. 'You know me! You know what I was doing was not about terrorism! It's about Matt Ryan-'
'Maybe so,' he retorted, speaking over her. 'Maybe, yeah, that is what you think you're doing, breaking the chain of command and conducting illegal operations without sanction… But you're in bed with international criminals! You're working with Juggernaut! They're wanted by
Interpol, the NSA, FBI-'
'I…' She tried to find the right words. 'It's not what you think!'
Tyler reached into a pocket and pulled out a data slate. 'D-Bar. You know who he is, right? Your hacker buddy?'
The name brought Anna up short. How does the agency know about D-Bar? She'd kept that information to herself. They had to have been listening in on her calls. More than likely, her apartment was wired as well.
Tyler ignored her, reading from the slate. 'Patrick Couture, also known as P-C, also known as D-Bar, from the French word meaning 'to unlock'
…' He frowned. 'Escaped capture by RCMP forces in Quebec, currently wanted in connection with numerous data-crimes on three continents, known to be an active member of the Juggernaut Collective. Designated priority target.' Tyler waved the slate at her. 'This isn't some kid pirating software or deep-sixing parking tickets. He's part of an international criminal conspiracy! And now so are you.'
For a moment, she couldn't find anything to counter his accusations, and Anna began to wonder if she had been played all along. What if
Juggernaut had been tracking her, watching while she conducted her covert investigation? What if they had used her, twisted her to their own ends? She bit down on her lip, feeling sick inside. Another lie on top of all the others? 'No,' she managed, shaking her head. 'It's Temple. He's the traitor! He's been using his access to the DOJ network to pass classified data!'
'To who?' Tyler demanded.
'I… I don't know!' she said angrily. 'All I know is that he's responsible for the deaths of a half-dozen Secret Service agents, men you and I worked with!'
Tyler sat back, his expression souring. 'I'll tell you where you are going, Kelso. You're being transferred to a secure psychiatric unit out of state.
Maybe there you can get some help. If Juggernaut were just using you-'
'Don't talk to me like I'm delusional!' Anna snapped, pulling against her restraints. 'I know what I saw!'
Tyler's hand slipped to the stun gun on his belt. 'Sit back,' he ordered. 'Don't make me knock you out.'
She sagged and fell against the metal bench as another truck hummed past, the light cast from the screen- panels along its flanks moving slowly along the inside of the van. Something made her look up, and for a moment Anna thought that the stims, the stress, and the lack of proper sleep had all conspired to make her hallucinate.
Visible through the slit-windows, she saw a line of text marching along the side of the driverless truck as it paralleled the van. Brace Yourself
Kelso, it read, This Is Going to Hurt.
Her jaw dropped just as Tyler caught on, and the agent turned to look out the windows, catching sight of what she had seen. He tapped his mastoid. 'Drake, do you see-?'
Before he could complete the thought, the wheels of the computer-controlled hauler gave a savage screech and the glowing screen-panels loomed through the windows. The robot truck broadsided the van and the vehicle resonated with the force of the impact. Tyler was knocked aside, but Anna was ready, riding out the collision. Through the security panel in front of her, she heard Drake swearing as he tried to stop the van from spinning into a wild skid. Then the truck veered across the lanes a second time and Drake lost control as they collided. The vehicle fishtailed across the freeway and momentum turned it sideways. There was a moment of stomach- churning vertigo as the van flipped over and crashed onto its side. A horrible grinding shriek sounded out as the prisoner transport scraped to a halt along the asphalt.
Anna recovered quickly, ignoring a cut over her right eye. Tyler was lying on his side, his breathing shallow but ready. She pulled as far as the restraints would let her and grabbed at him, dragging him closer. Her hands snagged the magnetic key rod on his belt and she tapped it on the cuffs; they fell away and she immediately felt a prickling sensation as proper blood flow returned to her extremities.
Someone banged twice on the rear doors. A hissing, fizzing glow appeared where the lock was mounted and she turned away. Metal parted with a heavy cracking sound and the doors fell open.
The bright beam of a torch engulfed her and Kelso held up a hand to shield her eyes. 'You gonna sit there
