The Sixth Man Read online

  She squeezed his arm, leaped up, grabbed Megan and Roy by the wrist, and shouted, “With me, now.”

  They raced off across the Mall, fighting their way through the screaming crowd that was now running flat-out in all directions.

  Harkes finally spotted her and tenaciously fought through the crowd to get to the woman.

  Kelly Paul’s broad back was to him. He was inches away.

  “Paul!”

  She turned, saw him, raised her gun, and fired.

  The man behind Harkes grunted once as the rubber bullet hit him smack in the chest. He fell forward, and the gun he was about to fire at Harkes slipped from his hand.

  Paul joined Harkes. He looked down at the fallen man as FBI agents ran up and cuffed the injured fellow.

  “Thanks,” Harkes said.

  “I think he spotted you taking out Quantrell’s boys and realized what you were really up to.”

  She pointed to her left. “I got two more of them. The FBI has them as well.”

  Harkes nodded and held up his Taser. “I got two. Plus the two with Riley. That’s five more to go, then,” he said. “We’ve got the Mall locked down. They can’t get away.”

  “Where did that first shot come from?” she asked.

  “No idea. But it didn’t help us a damn bit. Your brother? Riley?”

  “On schedule. Where’s Bunting?”

  He pointed across the street where two FBI agents had escorted the man to safety.

  “Good job,” she said.

  “Been after these folks a long time. Things could have blown up at any point along the way.”

  “But they didn’t.”

  “Good working with you again,” said Harkes.

  “Couldn’t have managed it without you, Jim.”

  Michelle, with Megan and Roy in tow, pushed and clawed her way through the panicked crowds. She finally saw a sliver of daylight and pulled them through it.

  Roy shouted, “Look out!”

  It was an unnecessary warning. Michelle had already seen it coming. She let go of his arm, twisted her body in the air, and laid the attacker out flat on his back with a thunderous kick, breaking his jaw.

  “My God,” said Roy, staring down at the fallen man who weighed about two-fifty. “How did you do that?”

  “I’ve got brains in my feet,” she barked. “Come on. Move, move!”

  They sprinted across the Mall. A few seconds later, they reached the van. Michelle fired up the engine and slammed it into gear.

  Edgar Roy looked back at the chaos on the Mall.

  “Didn’t go exactly according to plan,” he said.

  “Almost never does,” replied Michelle as the van sped off. “But we’re alive, that I’ll take.” She glanced in the rearview mirror. “Megan, are you okay?”

  Megan sat up in the seat and pushed her ratty hair out of her eyes. “I am now. I didn’t think I was going to make it.” She rubbed at her swollen wrists. “They beat the crap out of me.”

  “I know. We found your sweater with blood on it.”

  Megan touched her shoulder. “Knife,” she said simply.

  “But you’re okay?”

  “They just needed some blood to leave behind to make sure you knew they were serious. And I got really toughened up over the last few days,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry about Officer Dobkin.” She drew a long breath. “It was pretty damn awful. They kicked in the door and just shot him. He never had a chance to pull his weapon.”

  “I know. But at least you’re safe,” said Michelle.

  Megan looked at Roy. “I’m glad they got you out.” She held out her hand. “Nice to finally meet you.”

  Roy shook her hand and said shyly, “You too. Sorry about before. Not communicating with you and all.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Megan. “All I want right now is a hot shower and some clean clothes.”

  “Got just the place and it’s close by,” said Michelle. “Be there in five minutes.”

  Megan looked behind them and said in a panicked tone, “Michelle, I think there’s someone following us.”

  “There is. FBI. They’ll provide perimeter security at the safe house. Later, when everything is over, we’ll go to WFO. They’ll need detailed statements from you, Megan.”

  “More than happy to give them.” She smiled. “But can I have the shower first?”

  “You got it.”

  They drove on. The black SUV tailing them sped up and drew closer.

  CHAPTER

  85

  QUANTRELL’S TWELVE MEN were all subdued, cuffed, and hauled away in FBI transport vans. The participants in the peace rally probably thought the gunshot was from some jerk that didn’t share their enthusiasm for a less violent world. The crowd had congregated at the far end of the Mall, away from the less than peaceful activity.

  Sean, Kelly Paul, Bunting, and James Harkes met in the middle of the Mall. Sean was listing to one side.

  “How bad?” said Paul, as she looked at the hole in his body armor.

  “Bruised rib, but it’s a lot better than being dead.”

  “You saved Eddie’s life,” she said, gripping his arm.

  Harkes said, “They obviously didn’t fill me in on the entire plan. Didn’t know they were going to do that.”

  Paul said, “Might have just been someone looking to get a kill bonus.”

  “How’d you spot the shooter before anyone else did?” asked Harkes.

  “Used to do it for a living,” replied Sean.

  “Status of the others?” asked Paul.

  “Checked with Michelle,” said Sean. “They’re at the safe house. Megan is pretty beat up, but with some rest, clean clothes, and some food she should be okay. The wound on her shoulder was nasty, but Michelle cleaned it up. When she goes into WFO to make her statement they can check her out more thoroughly.”

  “Good,” said Paul. She looked at Harkes. “Next move?”

  “I get to visit a couple of my favorite people and tell them things that will literally change their lives in a way they hoped would never happen.”

  “Please give Ellen Foster and Mason Quantrell my best.”

  “They thought they were using Megan to get Bunting and Roy. I’ve got nothing against the lady lawyer, but we were really using that to get them to a face-to-face.”

  Paul added, “Only way it was going to work.”

  “Are you sure you have enough to put both of them away?” asked Bunting anxiously. “They’re both very good at deflecting blame. I have vast personal experience of that.”

  Harkes said, “I know you do, Mr. Bunting. But we’ve had this sting going for some time now, and the prosecutors are pretty confident we’ve got what we need. And I’ll make a star witness. If it wasn’t just he-said-she-said legal issues, I could have arrested her before now. The cost for waiting was huge. A lot of people died. The hit on Agent Murdock will haunt me the rest of my life.”

  “He found out about the E-Program, my brother said.”

  Harkes nodded. “They had the prison cell tapped. They freaked and authorized the kill without talking to me about it. I found out Murdock was dead when everyone else did.” He paused. “But now we’ve got the bastards.”

  “I hope so,” said Bunting without much confidence in his voice.

  Harkes picked up on this and said, “Just to reassure you, we also got a nice little bonus on the evidence front.”

  Bunting perked up. “What?”

  “We checked out the satellite angle that you gave us,” said Harkes. “It was better than we could have hoped. Foster signed off on the sat position change over Edgar Roy’s home for a three-hour period on a Wednesday night a week before Roy was arrested.”

  “And that’s when the bodies were put in the barn,” said Sean.

  “Right.”

  “But why was it better than we could have hoped?” asked Paul. “You just have the sat change. That’s instructive but not necessarily incriminating. There could have been ot
her reasons for the change, or at least she could argue that.”

  “No, she really can’t.”

  “Why?” asked Bunting sharply.

  “Because it turns out Mason Quantrell also had a pair of eyes on the barn the whole time from his private platform. It was like you said, he wanted some extra insurance in case Foster turned on him.”

  “So you’re saying we have video feed of the bodies going in?” asked Sean.

  “Yes we do. Nice and clear. And it turns out the guys who did the deed worked with Foster when she was stationed in the Far East. I guess she didn’t trust Quantrell to do the job right. We’ve picked up these men, and let’s just say they are being cooperative with the Bureau in building the necessary case.”

  “Couldn’t have happened to two nicer people,” said Bunting, who looked and sounded far more confident now.

  Harkes patted him on the arm. “Sorry I had to keep you in the dark on everything. And for roughing you up and threatening your family. The people I was dealing with were very smart and they were watching me the whole time. I had to play it right next to the edge to get them to trust me.”

  Bunting said, “I have to admit, my suspicions about you were aroused after you let Avery live, even after I pushed the button.” He paused. “But now he really is dead.”

  “No he isn’t. He’ll be waiting for you at the New York office on Monday.”

  Bunting’s face collapsed. “What? But the phone call?”

  “They wanted to kill him. But I convinced them we could always do it later. So we just did a little subterfuge on you instead. I wasn’t going to let them kill the kid.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “And your family is safe and sound under federal eyes.”

  “I know. I spoke to my wife.” He hesitated. “I’m thinking about taking some time off. I believe the E-Program can survive without me for a bit.”

  “I think that would be a great idea,” said Paul. “And quite frankly Eddie needs a break, too. And he and his big sister are going to start spending more time together, starting right now.”

  Harkes walked off to finish what he’d started a long time ago.

  “A good guy to have on your side,” said Paul, as she watched him go.

  “I’m sure he said the same thing about you,” replied Bunting.

  “How did you two meet?” asked Sean.

  “Let’s just say it was a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

  Sean was about to respond when his phone buzzed. He looked down and recognized the caller’s name.

  It would be a call that would change absolutely everything for Sean King.

  CHAPTER

  86

  THE DREAMLINER 787 LANDED at Dulles Airport right on time, and the jumbo jet slowly came to a halt. The pilot taxied the plane to an open space on the outskirts of the airport property. There were two SUVs waiting at this spot. The jet door opened, a set of portable steps was wheeled into place, and Mason Quantrell walked down them. He was dressed in pressed jeans and a white shirt with a North Face parka over that. He had a briefcase in hand. He looked casual and happy.

  He smiled and waved when the window of one of the SUVs rolled down and he saw Harkes sitting inside. He climbed in next to him.

  “Good flight?” asked Harkes.

  “Fine, fine. Got your message. We were just descending into Dulles. Sounds like it could not have gone better.”

  “No, it really couldn’t have,” replied Harkes.

  “I can’t wait to hear all about it. Why don’t we drive to my home in Great Falls? My chef studied in Paris and my wine cellar is open for your inspection. We can have something to eat and you can debrief me.” He paused and added, “Does Foster know yet?”

  Harkes smiled. “I was saving the best for last.”

  Quantrell laughed. “You’ve set it up beautifully. She will be beholden to me forever since we saved her tight little ass. I can get any budget increase I want through now.”

  “We need to make one little detour,” said Harkes.

  Quantrell looked at him. “What? Where.” Quantrell also noticed that the SUV had not started up. They weren’t moving.

  Harkes rolled his window down again and motioned with his hand.

  “What are you doing, Harkes?”

  Quantrell flinched when the truck door was ripped open and four men appeared there.

  “FBI,” said the lead agent. “Mason Quantrell, you’re under arrest.”

  As the agent read Quantrell his rights, Harkes opened his car door, climbed out, closed the door behind him, and walked off.

  He never looked back.

  One down, one to go.

  Ellen Foster had bathed, taken time over her hair, and dressed meticulously. She now sat in a chair in the front room of her beautiful home, in her fashionable neighborhood filled with highly accomplished people. This was where she belonged, she was sure of that. She had overcome much to get to this point in her life. And now?

  When the message had come it was an unexpected one. She had thought it would be Harkes informing her that everything was fine. That would have been the fair and just thing, Foster firmly believed. Only life was often neither fair nor just. This was one of those times, unfortunately.

  Sitting in her bathroom in front of her mirror applying her makeup, she had thought a lot about the last few years of her life. They had been filled with many triumphs and a few unavoidable failures—like her marriage. Her husband was rich but not nearly as famous as his wife, and that had grated on him. A supremely insecure man despite his fortune, he had finally driven away all the feelings she once had for him.

  The divorce had made some headlines and then died away. And her life had gone on. As it should have.

  She sat with her hands neatly folded in her lap as she gazed around the perfectly appointed room. It really was a beautiful space; she’d been so content here. So happy. It was a perfect blend of seemingly blissful domestic life and professional superstardom. She touched her earrings. Extravagant gifts from her ex. The necklace she wore was worth fifty thousand dollars. The diamond and sapphire ring nearly twice that. She wanted to look perfect for this, her final act.

  It was an act necessitated because Harkes had betrayed her.

  Harkes had been working for others. He had not been loyal. Instead of helping her, he had succeeded in destroying her. The underling had turned on its mistress. She should have seen it coming. But it was too late for that now.

  Life really was unfair. All she had done was try to keep the country safe. That was her job. And for that, this was her reward?

  She heard the trucks screech to a halt in front of her home. She rose, went over to the secretary, and removed the gun from its hiding place. She wondered briefly how the papers would initially report it. Not that it mattered, really. Her ex-husband would be mildly surprised, she assumed, though he’d remarried a far younger woman and was starting on the family she had never wanted to have with him.

  Foster did regret that she would have no one to mourn her. That was sad, she concluded.

  The footsteps raced up the front porch.