Palm Sunday (45 page)

Suddenly Sharon turned serious. “Damn.”

Katherine looked at him questioningly. “What?”

Sharon shook his head. Something was really bothering him. “A buddy of mine was killed in a Philadelphia substation. He was checking on some equipment related to this whole mess when he was shot. This is crazy.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Stanley.

Sharon continued. “Roberts said Justin kept him informed about everything. He also said he knew that my friend was investigating National Communications–your agency. But he wasn’t. He was checking out some equipment that was being serviced by Digicomm United Technologies.”

“We own them,” said Norbert.

“Who?” asked Sharon.

“Digicomm. The agency owns them. They installed some of our equipment.”

“So why did Roberts say ‘National Communications’?” asked Sharon. “Where’d he get that? He might have known about Digicomm from Justin, and putting two and two together they could have guessed at my involvement with the substation. But Justin didn’t know about National Communications, so who mentioned them to Roberts?”

“What do you think?” asked Stanley.

“That’s what worries me,” said Sharon. “He must have had a contact at the agency.”

“It had to be Mason himself,” said Kayoko. “Without his approval no one would share that information.”

“Mason did ask me about the vulnerability of external messages,” said Norbert.

It was a sobering thought, the notion that Mason and Roberts had joined forces. As Sharon considered the implications of this unholy alliance, a shadowy movement near the glass entranceway doors attracted his attention. He just caught a glimpse of a leg pulling back out of sight.

“Everybody out, now!” His whispered command was met with confused stares. “Damn it, they’re here.” He pulled out his pistol. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can, then join you at Stanley’s.” Still they just looked at him. “Move!”

Finally they grasped the urgency of the situation, and rushed for the back exit. Sharon took up a position that gave him a clear view of the glass doors. First contact was not what he expected.

“You’ve been locked up in your lab far too long. Drop your gun.”

The barrel of a pistol was pressed against the base of his skull. How had they gotten behind him? He dropped his gun and slightly turned his head, just enough to glimpse his assailant.

“You. I would have expected you to leave the unpleasant work for someone else,” said Sharon.

Roberts shrugged. “I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. It makes me feel in touch.” The grin on Robert’s face was evil. He would take pleasure, Sharon knew, in pulling the trigger.

“Before you do this, answer one question for me,” said Sharon.

“What’s tha…”

The movement was unexpected. Even at that, as Sharon swung his arm back he felt the sting of the bullet against his head as Robert’s gun went off. But luck was with him, as his elbow hit Roberts in the hand, knocking his pistol from his grip. The gun went skidding across the floor.

Sharon bent down and scooped up his weapon, then quickly turned. Roberts was diving for his gun, grabbed it, and turned, ready to fire. But his target was already gone.

When Sharon bolted out the back door of the ScanDat building, Stanley and the others had just piled into Katherine’s car. She gunned the engine and raced over to meet Sharon, who jumped in as Kayoko opened the door. As they pulled away, Sharon looked back, in time to see Roberts emerge from the rear exit.

“We heard the shot and thought you were dead,” said Stanley.

“Pretty nearly. He winged me, I think.” He put his hand to his head, and it came away bloody.

“You’ve been shot!” said Kayoko.

Sharon nodded, and placed a handkerchief against his head. “I’ll clean it up when we get to Stanley’s house.”

“Will we be safe there?” asked Kayoko.

“I think so. Roberts probably traced our signal back to ScanDat when we hacked into their system, but I doubt he would have linked me to the Whipples.”

“But we were at your office,” said Stanley.

“On my invite. I didn’t tell Roberts who you were, or why you were there. The only time he saw you was when he threw you out of the computer center. I don’t think he’ll put it together.” No one argued. “By the way, where’d your boss go?”

“He booked,” said Katherine. “He can move them short legs pretty fast when he has to.” That drew chuckles, and the mood lightened.

“Well,” said Sharon. “At least we beat Pascua, and that’s a reason to celebrate.”

On the evening following the destruction of Pascua, there was a small party at Stanley’s house. Katherine, Norbert, Kayoko, and Sharon were there, but Slocum, who had not been seen since they parted company at the FBI data center, was not. It was a good party, with good food and good friends, bound together by their shared experience. While Stanley and Katherine played the role of host and hostess, Agent Sharon congratulated everyone on a job well done. Bobby was delighted to be back home, and seemed genuinely pleased at the obviously close bond between his father and Katherine. Norbert and Kayoko chatted amiably. It was late, but the party had really just started. 

In a car parked across the street, George Pampas turned to Mason.

“Do you want me to finish this?” Mason watched the movement inside the house, taking a long time to answer.

“No. Let them think they’ve won.” Pampas nodded and started the car, then pulled slowly away from the curb. As they left, Slocum stepped out from the shadows. He put his gun away and walked across the street towards the Whipple house, climbing the three short steps that led to the front door. As he reached his hand out to knock, the sound of laughter carried through, and Slocum hesitated. Those inside were celebrating, and they were part of a different world. He slowly lowered his hand and looked at the soft light that filtered through the curtains.

Things belonged a certain way. His place, Slocum knew, was in the shadows, and rightly so. With a smile that was two parts resignation, one part regret, and all Slocum, he turned and walked away. He would be back, he knew, but this was not the time. With the sounds of celebration fading behind him, Robert Slocum disappeared into the night.