It took longer than Peter had hoped for all the parts to come together. By the time he was ready to make his second-to-last call, he’d been back in the townhouse for several hours.
He picked up the phone and dialed the number.
“Prime Cable News,” a pleasant female voice said.
“Dick Tillman, please. He’s expecting my call.”
She transferred him to a secretary who put him through to Tillman.
“I hope to hell you’re not fucking with me,” the network executive said.
“I’m not. I assume you contacted our mutual acquaintance?”
His voice lost some of its aggressiveness. “Yeah. He vouched for you.”
Peter had needed to pull several strings to get the retired general to talk to Tillman, but he knew it would do the trick. “And your camera teams?”
“The one here is no problem, but we don’t have anyone in Romania. On the word of your friend, I’ve sent a team there from Paris. They should arrive in Bucharest within the next three hours.”
“Good,” Peter said, then relayed a set of coordinates. “The Bucharest team will have ninety minutes after they land to get to that location. Tell them to do nothing to draw attention to themselves. They should get in a position that allows them a view of the gate. They’ll know what that means when they get there. Then they just wait.”
“What are they waiting for?”
“They’ll figure it out.”
“What about the other team?”
Peter gave him another set of coordinates. “Their timeline will mirror that of your team in Romania.”
“And I suppose you can’t tell me what they need to watch for, either?”
“No, I can’t. But I can tell you, Mr. Tillman, you don’t want to miss this.”
Four and a half hours after they’d taken off from the airfield in Virginia, Quinn’s phone rang.
“Yes?”
“I’ve just received the final confirmation. Everything’s in place,” Peter said. “Is two hours enough?”
“Hold on.” Quinn grabbed the walkie-talkie that connected him with the flight crew. “We’re ready to take her down. How long until we can be on the ground?”
“Forty-five minutes. Fifty, tops,” the pilot reported.
“Whatever you can do to make it sooner will be helpful.” He added the estimate to the time it would take them to drive to their final destination. “Two hours should be doable, but it’ll be tight.”
“You want a delay?” Peter asked.
“No. Any later will be less effective. We’ll make it work.”
“All right. Good luck.”
“Thanks, Peter. You really came through.” Quinn hung up and looked at the others. “Time for that chat.”
They all pulled on ski masks, and relocated to the back room. Nate and Daeng each held a video camera, so the rest stayed behind them to make sure that the only ones in the shot would be Mygatt, Green, and Olsen.
“What’s going on?” Mygatt asked.
“Where are we?” Green threw in. “Someone, please talk to us!”
“We felt the plane turn,” Olsen said. “Are we landing?”
“Yes,” Quinn said. It was the first word any of them had spoken to the prisoners since takeoff.
“What do you want? Who are you?” Mygatt said.
“Who I am isn’t important. What do I want? Well, Senator Mygatt, what I want is an explanation.”
“Explanation? About what?”
“Thomas Gorman.”
Mygatt delayed a second too long before saying, “Who?”
“We’re not going to do that, senator. Let me make this clear. As soon as we land, there are two groups of people we can give you to. One who will make sure you get home, and one who will tear you apart.” He gave it a beat, then said, “So, tell us what happened to Thomas Gorman.”
What started as dribbles of denial and deflection soon became a flood of reality as the story came out. Even then, Mygatt tried to paint himself as a hero, protecting his country, but his attempted ruse sounded empty.
“Moving in,” Quinn whispered, as soon as the senator was finished.
Both Nate and Daeng zoomed their lenses in so that only the black bag covering Mygatt’s head was visible. Quinn then walked over to the man’s side.
“How much of this story is true?”
“All of it,” Mygatt said. “Everything. And I’d do it again.”
As he said the last sentence, Quinn pulled the bag off, revealing the former senator’s face.
“Again,” Quinn said. “The story you just told, is it true?”
Mygatt’s eyes widened as he noticed the cameras.
“Senator?”
“Yes,” Mygatt whispered.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, it’s all true.”
“So you faked the death of an American citizen, and flew him out of the country to a secret prison in Romania?”
Mygatt looked at him, surprised. “Romania? How did…It’s not like that! He was a menace. I did what everyone else wanted to do. It needed to be done. For the US.”
“And these men were with you?” As Quinn asked this, Orlando moved around and pulled the bags off Green’s and Olsen’s heads. “They were part of this?”
Nate and Daeng waited until she was out of the way, then panned their cameras over to the two newly revealed faces.
“These men are patriots,” Mygatt said.
“Were they part of this?” Quinn asked.
“They were also doing what needed to be done.”
Quinn stood up and nodded at Nate and Daeng. They switched off the cameras and lowered them.
“Thank you, Senator Mygatt, Mr. Green, and Mr. Olsen. That’ll be all.”
The bags went back over their heads.
“Hey!” Olsen called out.
“I did what you asked!” Mygatt shouted.
“You did,” Quinn said. He ushered the others out of the room and shut the door.
The pilot proved to be more than capable, getting them on the ground in thirty-eight minutes instead of forty-five.
As Peter had promised, a sedan and a white panel van were waiting for them. Logos on both sides of the van proclaimed that it belonged to KFR Catering, but the decals, along with the actual color of the van, could be removed in just a couple of minutes, changing the van to an unmarked dark blue.
As the prisoners were hustled out of the plane and into the van, Orlando sent Peter copies of Mila’s secret video footage of Thomas Gorman, and the three men’s confessions, which he would then distribute to the appropriate channels. These same channels would also receive the additional information Peter’s inside source had been able to unearth.
“You guys are released,” Quinn said to Howard and Larson.
“Easiest gig I’ve had all year,” Howard said as they shook. “You guys be careful.”
The two men walked over to the waiting sedan, and left.
Though the plane had been in the air for several hours, they had actually landed just a few hundred miles to the northeast from where they had taken off. That, of course, was information they did not share with their captives.
To ensure that Mygatt and company didn’t figure that out, Quinn slipped one of the CDs that had come with the van into the vehicle’s old stereo, and turned up the volume in the back. Each disk was labeled with the name of
