I turned off the TV. Now my waiting began. Evelyn had instructed Dubois to get into his car and start driving. Felix would already be hidden in the backseat with the directions. Giving them to Dubois early would have been asking for trouble.
The route was as uncomplicated as we could make it, so Wilkes could follow. Dubois was instructed to “drive normally,” that is, not to speed and risk losing him, but not to go too slowly and look suspicious. He was presumably en route to meet a critical witness. He wouldn’t dawdle. Meanwhile, Evelyn would be tailing him, providing countersurveillance, should any agents or members of the press decide to follow Dubois. If they did, that could delay his arrival even more…if not permanently abort the plan.
Should everything work out, my cue would come when the front door handle turned, signaling that Dubois was there. Then he’d hurry back to the car, as if he’d forgotten something, and I’d be on, waiting for my big moment.
There was no sense trying to figure out how long it would take Dubois to get here. Overestimate and I’d be caught off guard. Underestimate and I’d start worrying that something had gone wrong.
I adjusted the police scanner in the living room. It wasn’t tuned to the frequency the Feds were using. Even if we could find that, we didn’t need to. The scanner was just a prop, set slightly off station so Wilkes could hear police-type chatter, but static choked out the words.
At four forty-seven the front door handle rattled. I stood poised in the living room doorway and blocked out the police scanner buzz as I waited for the next signals, as Felix had explained them to Dubois. First, he’d jangle the handle. Second, he’d open the door, just a few inches, then slam it shut again. Finally, he’d turn and walk past the front window, where I’d see him and know, if all three events occurred, that it wasn’t someone delivering pizza flyers.
The doorknob turned. It opened. And…
The clomp of footsteps, a firm one-two. Then the door clicked shut.
He’d come inside.
I tensed, fingers tightening around my gun. Had Wilkes figured out the right house before Dubois arrived? Jack had included that in his list of possibilities-the drawn blinds could give it away as soon as Dubois’s car slowed a few doors down. But to walk in the front door? That was ballsy.
The squeak of shoes. Following the siren’s call of the police scanner. Too late to back up to my post down the hall. No problem. You want contingency plans? Jack had dozens of them.
I ducked into the living room and crouched behind the entertainment stand we’d moved into position facing the doorway. I could aim my gun right through the opening above the TV, which was turned off so it wouldn’t attract Wilkes’s attention. He’d slip up to the doorway, and look at the recliner beside the scanner-
Footsteps sounded in the hall. Not moving very quietly, was he? He stepped into the doorway. My finger touched the trigger…
“Jesus Christ!” I hissed as I stepped from behind the stand.
A flicker of surprise as Dubois’s gaze slid over me, as if I wasn’t what he’d envisioned, then his face went taut.
“Change of plans,” he snapped. “This is my roust. You’re standing down.”
“The hell I-”
I swallowed the rest. Any moment now, that patio door could open and Wilkes could walk through. I glanced at the recliner and considered suggesting Dubois take a seat, provide me with a real guard to draw Wilkes’s first fire. The thought cheered me enough to push back the surge of frustration.
“Stand down,” Dubois said.
I resisted the urge to flip him off. No time for confrontation. No time to get him out of the house. The best solution? Compromise. And fast.
“We think he’ll come in the kitchen,” I said, speaking softly and quickly. “The radio should draw him in here. You can lie in wait-”
“Don’t tell me where I’ll lie in wait.”
“Fine. You pick then.”
I turned and headed for my bathroom hiding spot, trying not to snarl as I stalked off. Of all the stupid stunts. We’d arranged it this way to protect Dubois. All the glory and none of the risk. And this was how he repaid us? There are capable, bright agents all across the nation…and we had to wind up with an idiot.
This was a possibility Jack hadn’t accounted for. We’d discussed the chance that Dubois would back out before the press conference, or on the way here, or before he got out of the car. Or that’d he’d get overeager and rush in too soon afterward, before we could leave. Or that our departure would be met with squad cars. The thought that he’d walk through that door and demand to take down Wilkes himself had never crossed our minds. Why? Because it was stupid!
As I brushed past Dubois, he made a move to stop me. I turned a glare on him.
“You want to take him down?” I whispered. “Then get ready. Before he comes through that door and finds us bickering in the hallway.”
Dubois returned my glare, but let me pass. When I got to the bathroom, I looked back and saw him ducking into the living room. In other words, he was counting on Wilkes coming through that patio door into the kitchen. And if he didn’t? Well, that was Dubois’s problem. I wouldn’t stand back and watch him get shot, but nor was I going to risk losing Wilkes to ensure Dubois’s safety.
I slipped into the bathroom and looked around. Still a good hiding spot, with only one door and a window too small for Wilkes to climb through. I got into position, then turned on my radio, keeping the volume down, unit at my ear.
“We know,” Jack said before I could speak. His voice was hard, words clipped. “Can’t worry about it. You in position?”
“Affirmative,” I whispered. “Quinn?”
“Here.”
“Wire?”
A soft exhale, and I knew he’d been worrying about the same thing: whether Dubois was wired, either with a single partner backing him up or as a full operation, with a battalion of agents waiting to swoop in. There was no way to know for sure, and given how Dubois had treated me so far, he wasn’t about to submit to a search.
“Fifty-fifty,” he said after a moment.
“Shit.”
“Forget it,” Jack said. “Have to. Visitors show up? We’ll know it. Warn you. Get you out. Meanwhile? Watch what you say. Stay on task.”
An hour later, I was still waiting. Finally, I heard footsteps in the hall. Heavy footsteps. I sighed, but took up position anyway, in the corner by the door, gun drawn, watching through a mirror over the sink. Sure enough, within seconds, Dubois appeared.
I considered shooting him. Nothing fatal. Maybe a bullet through the right shoulder. Whoops, you can’t fire a gun with a wounded shoulder? Guess we’d better get you out of here. Next time you’re in a house with an armed stranger waiting for a serial killer? Don’t come creeping down the hallway.
“Get back in position,” I said through my teeth.
“It’s been an hour. He’s not showing up.”
“No? Well, maybe that’s because you’re in here, and he needs to plan a little. If you’d left, he would have made damned sure he got in here before you returned.”
“So this is my fault?”
I didn’t dare answer that.
“Stand guard,” I said. “I’ll call my partners, and see whether anything’s changed from their end.”
FIFTY
