Challenge (10 page)

41.

Larson stood with his back against the hotel room wall. Judy Trapp sat in the only chair, the one at the desk. Tears had streaked mascara down her cheeks, which were flushed red from crying.

“How much trouble is he in?”

“We don’t know,” Larson answered. “He’s not in any trouble with us. But what you told me about this woman…”

“She threatened me. Told me we had to leave.”

“But didn’t say why,” Larson said.

She blinked back some tears and shook her head.

“We’ll find him.”

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with. Steel is not just smart, Detective—”

“Marshal,” Larson corrected.

“—he’s…special. He’s got a mind like a steel trap. Photographic memory. Reads at a college level. His invention for the science challenge…” she rambled, “they’re usually half the parent, half the child. This was
all
Steel. And it’s nothing short of brilliant. It’ll get bought by the military or something. It can sniff out anything you give it a sample of. It’s like a bloodhound. He’s amazing. If he doesn’t want to be found by you people—then you won’t find him.”

“We’ll find him,” Larson said. “He’ll contact you. He may just come through that door.”

“And the woman? The warning? What was that about?”

“She told you to leave.”

“She said we were in danger.”

“We believe she’s the woman who was on the platform in Chicago. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to see her face.”

“Her face? Who are these people?” Her flushed cheeks went pale and her voice cracked as she squeaked out, “Do not tell me they’re terrorists….”

“We don’t think so. They may have ties to certain questionable networks, but—”

“They
are
terrorists! OH MY GOD!” She came up out of her seat. “Are you trying to tell me without really having to tell me?”

“Mrs. Trapp! Please. Sit down. They are bad people, but not exactly terrorists. The man we’re after…he and his brother are gang lords. We believe they have ties to certain international networks as well.”

“Terrorists…” she muttered.

“Some of which are suspected terror cells, yes.”

“Oh my God,” she repeated.

“But that doesn’t make them terrorists, only bad people.”

“And why are you after this man?”

“I’m not permitted to say.”

“It’s something bad,” she said, “or you wouldn’t be after him.”

“The point is getting your son back and keeping you both safe.”

“I can’t believe this,” she mumbled.

“He might have fled from the auditorium in order to get away from her. We have men out looking for him. And the hope is he’ll return here on his own.”

The dog, lying at the woman’s feet, thumped its tail, rose, and sniffed around Larson’s ankles.

“She likes you,” Judy Trapp said.

“Probably smells my dog on me,” Larson explained. He looked at the dog, then back at Mrs. Trapp. “Has she been taken out lately?”

The mother looked up and met eyes with Larson. Hers were filled with expectancy.

“She must be…Oh, poor thing. I want to take her, but I also don’t want to leave in case he calls or comes back.”

“I can take her,” Larson said.

“Would you mind?”

She handed Larson the leash. He was clipping it to the dog collar when he reconsidered. “No…no…It has to be you.”

“I beg your pardon?” she said.

“It has to be you who walks the dog.”

“But—”

“I need to get my partner in place.”

“I’m not following you,” she said.

Larson already had his cell phone in hand. “The dog,” he said. “You said your son was bright.”

“That doesn’t begin to describe him.”

“He’s waiting for you to walk the dog. He knows you have to walk the dog, and he’ll contact you then.”

Judy Trapp’s face filled with excitement. “That
does
sound like Steel, I have to admit.”

“We have to handle this carefully. The police were notified by the organizers of the challenge. They are looking for Steel as well. And we want to get to him first.”

42 .

The afternoon traffic and pedestrians crowded the streets and sidewalks. Cars jammed the narrow street, filling all the parking spaces.

It was not the ideal environment in which to try to spot Steel while also keeping an eye on Judy Trapp and the dog. Worse for Larson was that hotel security had notified Washington’s Metro Police that Steel, a minor, had fled the auditorium. The result was cops everywhere—one of whom, a detective, had been overheard asking a desk clerk to phone the Trapp room just as Judy—and Larson right behind her—walked past. Judy had glanced back at Larson, but he’d waved her on, not wanting to involve the local police just now.

Larson followed Judy at a distance, suspecting that Steel was outside awaiting the necessity of walking the dog. He looked for a place along the street that Steel could use to see but not be seen. It seemed so simple, but looking up the street, Larson saw few possibilities.

Judy left the Hyatt behind, pulled by Cairo straining at her leash.

Larson hung well back, keeping his attention on Judy while appearing to be preoccupied with a phone call.

Despite the traffic and crowds, the street scene struck him as pretty. He thought Washington one of the more beautiful American cities; he attributed this mostly to the older architecture and the abundance of trees. They lined the street in full foliage.

Trees…

Kids…

He glanced ahead, searching for a good tree to hide in, and saw it immediately: an ash at the intersection of H and Tenth Streets. Judy would, by necessity, pass through that intersection. Larson couldn’t see into the tree for all the foliage, but he didn’t have to: he spotted a shadow cast down onto the sidewalk. Something—someone—was up in the tree.

He hurried ahead, stepped onto the shadow, and said loudly enough to carry over the traffic, “I’ll make you a deal, Steel. You, your mother, and I meet and talk this out.” He paused as pedestrians passed. “I promise to work hard to keep you in the challenge.” Again he waited for some people to walk past. “If the local cops or, heaven forbid, Homeland Security, get hold of you, you’re out of the challenge and into a mess. I’m thinking that neither you nor your mother want that. So I’m going to take a chance now: I’m going to trust you. Don’t blow this.”

Larson’s BlackBerry purred at his belt. He answered the call when he saw from the caller ID that it was Hampton. “Yeah?”

“Who the heck are you talking to? You’re going to get carted away, you keep talking to that tree. What kind of freak are you?”

Larson hung up and looked around. He didn’t see Hampton, but obviously his partner had a clear view of him.

He told the boy, who still wouldn’t acknowledge him, “There’s a coffee shop on the next corner. Don’t come out of that tree until you see me reenter the hotel. Then head over to the coffee shop. If I’m not there at the top of the hour, then we try again exactly one hour after that. Got it? I’m not going to lead the cops to you. That’s why we might have to wait. Your mother will be with me. I’m going to trust you, Steel, because I think I can. You break that trust, and it’s the last chance I’m going to give you.”

He hurried off toward Judy and the dog. Only as he crossed the street did he spot the dress shop’s neon sign on the second floor of a brick building on the east side of Tenth. His money was on Hampton being upstairs in that dress shop, one eye on the street below.

His trust in the kid ran only so far. He called Hampton. “There’s a kid going to climb down out of that tree I was talking to. Tail him and make sure he heads to the coffee shop on the next corner. If he doesn’t, I’ve gotta know about it, and you can’t lose him. Got it?”

“I’m on it.”

“And, Hamp, whatever you do, don’t let him see you. That kid has got some serious wheels.”

43.

Grym contained his impatience. He stopped at a burrito joint that smelled like salty chips, and ate a taco salad, the unopened briefcase upright by his left leg. He kept an eye on the door and also outside the restaurant’s plate-glass windows, alert for anyone watching him.

Only when he’d determined he’d not been followed, and was not being watched, did he finally lift the briefcase to the table. He slipped the key into the lock and turned.

It opened.

Just the feeling of the briefcase coming open filled him with a sense of success. Viewing its contents, a few sheets of paper and that all-important photograph, nearly overwhelmed him. He clicked the briefcase shut, checked the Metro map he had in his back pocket, and stood from the table.

He had an appointment to keep.

44.

Larson hoped Judy Trapp might stop walking the dog and return to the room. He grew impatient waiting for her to do so. She seemed to be stretching out the time, in hopes of finding her son. Larson didn’t want to tell her he’d found the boy until they were alone and out of sight; he loitered about, making phone calls and pretending to be busy.

After another ten minutes, Judy Trapp got tired and turned around.

Back in the hotel room, he looked on as Judy fell to pieces. She had done an admirable job of keeping her worry contained; but now, sitting on the edge of a bed in a room with a federal agent, it poured out of her in the form of tears.

“I found him,” he told her.

Her head snapped up in surprise.

“He was hiding in a tree. Same thing my little girl would do.”

“But…where is he?”

Larson explained the deal he’d made with the boy. “My guy is keeping an eye on him. If he decides not to keep his end of the deal, we’ll still know where to find him.”

She stood and brushed the wrinkles out of her shirt. “What are we waiting for?”

“Top of the hour,” Larson said. “Twenty-five minutes.”

“Can’t we go now? Early?”

“We’re going to be followed by the local law. Questions will be asked. If we’re going to do this, it’s going to require some stealth.”

“Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.”

“I’m going to tell the others that you’re taking twenty minutes in the gym to work out your stress. You’ll go down there but will wait for me. We’ll leave out the back.”

She stared intently at him for longer than felt comfortable. He wanted to say something, to interrupt her penetrating glare, but couldn’t think of how to put it.

At last she spoke. “Can I trust you, Marshal?”

“I would hope so, ma’am.”

“I’m going to share with you something that can go no further than this room. No matter what your oaths and obligations. Do we understand each other?”

Larson shifted uncomfortably. “Those oaths and obligations are a little stricter than you might think, Mrs. Trapp.”

“Judy,” she interrupted. “And I know all about them, believe me.”

“I can promise I’ll do my best to keep whatever it is contained. That’s probably all I can do.”

“I’m not sure that’s enough,” she said in a dry whisper that raised the hair on the nape of his neck.

He debated what to do. Situations arose where a witness or a snitch provided you protected information, but Larson was sworn to tell his superiors if they asked.

“Okay,” he said, “I won’t repeat whatever it is to anyone unless I have your permission.” He couldn’t imagine what she might have to say, but she had certainly won his attention.

Judy Trapp screwed up her face into a pucker of determination and human will. The words spilled out of her. “My husband is with the FBI.”

45.

Larson spotted a man who didn’t belong. He stood at the end of the long hallway, guarding the elevator. It seemed possible the local police had involved hotel security, so he turned Judy around in the opposite direction and headed to the stairs.

“We need to talk about this,” he told her at a brisk walk. “Your husband.”

“I don’t know much about his current assignment,” she said. “Only that it’s difficult, and it kept him from joining us. There was an accident.…A plane…”

“You know more than I do, and that needs to change.”

He led her down the fire stairs to the floor below. Here, he inspected the hallway, grabbed her hand, and led her out and down the hall, nearly at a run. He located a second set of fire stairs and took these to the mezzanine level. “It’s a little bit cat and mouse right now.”

“Anything to get me to Steel.”

“That’s the idea.”

Now in the mezzanine, he studied the changing numbers above the elevators. “I’ll bet they’re looking for us.” He sent Judy Trapp into the ladies’ room. “Four minutes, exactly. Then out that far door under the exit sign. Turn right once you’re outside. Walk casually. I’ll catch up to you. Don’t leave the sidewalk and don’t turn any corners. Got it?”

“I’m good.”

“Okay, then.”

Judy Trapp pushed through the restroom door.

Larson marked the time.

Two men came out of the elevators: cops or security guards.

Larson allowed them to catch just a glimpse of him. Then he hurried off in the opposite direction from where Judy had gone.

They took the bait and followed.

Now at a fast walk—nearly a run—he checked his watch: less than a minute to go.

The two men ran to close the distance before Larson reached a door. One shouted, “Hey! Wait up!”

Larson slowed slightly, and at the last possible second before being caught, opened a meeting room marked for a gathering of pharmaceutical representatives.

The room held rows of tables with an aisle down the middle. A speaker stood behind a lectern, a PowerPoint presentation glowing on a screen behind him.

Larson hurried up the aisle. The speaker went right on talking.

He heard the two enter behind him, but by this point he was passing the raised stage. He pushed through an exit door and entered into a back hallway meant for servicing the various meeting rooms. He broke into a full run, moving left toward yet another exit sign.

He reached the brightness of the street, crossed through traffic, and ducked into a store. Judy Trapp would be somewhere on this street.

He watched through the store window for the two goons who’d been behind him. Only one showed up. They’d split up in the service corridor. This one had to decide between going left or right, and he picked right.

Larson gave him a few seconds to head off in the wrong direction.

Nothing so sweet.