The Dark Hour (41 page)

She was already there, standing in a shadowed corner near a suit of armor that stood sentinel over a darkened hallway. At first, she said nothing, her expression one of diligence, caution. But then it softened momentarily as she asked, “How are you?”

And once again he wasn’t prepared for the flood of emotions on seeing her, especially the anger over her subterfuge. “Well, let’s see. I painted the kitchen after the funeral. Yellow just wasn’t cutting it for me.”

“I’m being serious, Zachary.”

“Yeah? Well, so am I. It’s been two goddamned years.
And
I thought you were dead,” he whispered. “How do you
think
I am?”

She ignored his outburst, “You look tired.”

Griffin studied her face, trying to assess what she was about. “Let’s just say the last few days have taken their toll. So what game are you playing?”

“Game?” she asked.

“The hit man who killed Faas came after us last night. Anything to do with you?”

“Oh my God. If I hadn’t sent that package to Faas . . .”

There were a million questions he wanted to ask her about the last two years, but this wasn’t the time or place. He needed to get to the bottom of this. “Why Faas?”

“I couldn’t think of anyone else, and sending it to the museum seemed so simple. I thought if I mailed it from the lab, it would be lost in the volume of packages.” Becca crossed her arms, as though suddenly cold. “The plan might have succeeded, except someone hacked into their system a couple months before, so they were on the alert, and caught the unauthorized shipment—thankfully only after it had been mailed.”

“Luc didn’t suspect you?”

“No. I heard he suspected one of his special guards, who it turned out was skimming drugs and selling them on the side. Apparently there had been other unauthorized shipments that same day. The guard denied it. His body was found the next morning.”

Everything Becca said had the ring of authenticity. But Griffin knew from experience that it was far easier to maintain a lie if the majority of it was framed with the truth. “Is that why you were in Amsterdam?”

“How did you know?”

“We had a witness.”

“I had hoped to warn you. Once Luc tracked the package to the museum, he sent Bertrand to retrieve it, and someone to kill Faas.”

“Bertrand? Your fiancé?”

She clamped her mouth shut, as though biting back a retort, her eyes sparking. “
Yes
. And I asked to accompany him to do some shopping. I thought if I could catch you before you met up with Faas, warn you somehow . . .”

He’d only seen the man from across the street and in the dark, thank God, or Bertrand might have recognized him. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to notify your handler? What was his name?”

“Reggie.”

“Or pick up a phone and call Langley? You surely know the number to CIA headquarters?”

“I did the best I could!” she whispered harshly, then stopped, took a deep breath to calm herself. “Look. After the lab’s computer was hacked, everyone who worked there was under the microscope. I risked my life to get that package out. And the moment I found out that Luc sent Bertrand to retrieve the package himself from Amsterdam, I immediately arranged for a face-to-face with my handler, so that you could be stopped.”

“You’re sure this information made it to Thorndike?”

“Positive. I heard Reggie call him. That’s how I found out that you’d already left. Thorndike promised they’d do everything in their power to stop you, because they knew you’d be walking into a trap. If you were caught, it would compromise the entire operation.”

So now he knew why Thorndike burned him.

Someone pushed open the front door in the foyer below. Cold air and the scent of fresh fallen snow drifted up toward them. Griffin glanced down, saw several people standing in the foyer, before turning his attention back to Becca, trying to decide what direction to take. “Are you aware Reggie is dead? Murdered in his apartment.”

Becca closed her eyes and it was several moments before she opened them again, her face turning pale. “He was supposed to meet me here tonight. This was to be our last mission.”

“You saw the American newspapers, no doubt. Are you a double agent?”

She turned her gaze toward Griffin, her eyes glistening. “There was a time when you never would have asked . . .”

“That was a
long
time ago. Two years in fact.”

“Well, forgive me, but it took longer than I thought to gain Luc’s trust.”

“And what’s so important that you sold your soul for two years?”

“This.” She opened her hand, revealing a flash drive. “What I was supposed to be passing off to my handler tonight. Not only is Dr. Fedorov’s research on here, but so is the list of every seaport in the Western Hemisphere that LockeStarr has compromised, as well as the security flaws they intend to exploit. And where they’re going to release the virus if they recover that missing vial. Luc has never allowed this information on any computer that connects to the Internet. And he intends on selling it. Tonight.”

If what she said was true—and he wanted to believe her—then what she held in her hand was the key they needed to bring down LockeStarr, what they’d come looking for. But then her words about the missing vial sank in, and he recalled what McNiel had said about her stealing the virus from the lab. “Who are you planning on selling it to, Becca?”

She stared at him, as though he were insane. “What the hell are you talking about, Zachary?”

“The virus. We know you took it,” he said. “There’s still a vial missing. Is it being sold to this buyer that Luc is picking up?”

“Luc sent that vial to America. The one I took, I sent to Faas. It was in the cooler. That’s what he was supposed to turn over to you. But this is what you’re looking for. What I was to turn over to Reggie tonight. When Luc opens his safe and finds it missing, he’ll know it was me. I’m as good as dead.”

The moment the words left her mouth, he saw Luc and another man walk in the front door—fifteen minutes earlier than they’d expected—the other man carrying a briefcase at his side. Griffin pulled out his phone, hit the speed dial that would warn Giustino, figuring the man was the buyer, the same one Becca was being accused of selling the information to.

“What’s wrong?” Becca asked.

And suddenly he was faced with the decision. Trust Becca or not? “Giustino is in there, looking for that flash drive you’re holding,” he said.

“Why?” she asked. And then he saw when the realization hit her. What it meant. Not just that Griffin didn’t trust her—certainly expected under the circumstances—but for her to know that Thorndike had lost faith. Why else send in a team to do what Becca was supposed to do? And then that look was gone, replaced by determination, and she pressed the flash drive into his hand. “I’ll stall Luc. Get Giustino out. Now.”

He grabbed her by the wrist. “You’re in danger. They know about you. They have to, or why kill Reggie?”

“Trust
me,” she whispered. “Please.”

In a single heartbeat, he let go. And before he could tell her he trusted her, someone stepped around the corner and pressed a gun into his back.

“Don’t move.”

Bertrand. Becca’s so-called fiancé.

Chapter 70

December 12

Washington, D.C.

T
here were certain moments in life, Marc thought, when the only thing you could say in the time given is “Oh shit.”
This
was one of those moments.

His only advantage was that Olivia Grogan didn’t seem to know that they were aware anything was off—an advantage they were bound to lose any second. He carefully backed away, drew his gun, pointed it at Olivia, and told Ennis, “Get the VP out of here. Now.”

Ennis radioed Stevens, who then informed the closest Secret Service agent. They immediately ushered the vice president toward the exit. At the same time, Marc stepped around the table, leveled his pistol on Olivia, saying, “Don’t move.”

But she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at the Secret Service as they yanked the vice president out the door. She took one step in that direction, but the door slammed shut, the sound echoing throughout the room. Her jaw dropped, and she looked around her frantically, as the crowd became aware that something was going down. A few guests noticed Marc, his gun pointed at Olivia, and a woman screamed, no doubt misidentifying the situation. That was when Olivia finally noticed Marc, or rather his gun. Suddenly she held up the vial, her thumb covering the top, and she shouted, “Everyone. Stop! Stop or you’ll all die!”

If there was any doubt in Marc’s mind as to the vial’s contents, it fled in that moment. Several more guests screamed, and suddenly there was a very wide circle around him and Olivia, and it widened even farther as his agents started moving people back. Apparently Olivia noticed as she held the vial higher, turning about the room, eyeing everyone like a cornered animal. “Don’t move,” she ordered.

The crowd froze. Marc’s team of agents looked to him for direction. He gave them a signal to stand down. He wasn’t about to shoot until he knew what would happen if she dropped the thing. Then again, he couldn’t think of any way to get that vial from Olivia Grogan and still avoid an unmitigated disaster.

Lisette
. He searched the room, saw she’d backed away from Olivia into the crowd and was making her way toward him, slowly, surreptitiously, moving only when Olivia’s gaze was somewhere else. Finally she came up behind Marc, half hidden by the melting swan sculpture.

“You think that’s the virus?” he asked.

“I’m hoping otherwise.”

“If it is, what are our options?”

“Best scenario? It goes straight down and only affects those closest. Still too many people near her, including us. That’s if it falls. If she throws it, all bets are off.”

“Great.” Marc looked around, not seeing any other choice that didn’t risk lives. “Sacrifice a few for the greater good.”

“And if we’re in that few?”

“On the bright side?” Marc replied. “If that happens and there is any fallout, we’ll be too dead to notice.” He kept the nose of his weapon pointed down. There was no shot. Too many people stood around Olivia Grogan for Marc to take her out, even if he dared. He keyed his radio. “Clear the space behind her.”

Ennis radioed back. “To where?”

What was it Ennis had said about that hallway? “En route to the restrooms. Exit the courtyard,” Marc replied. “Move as many as you can outside, shut the doors, and do
not
let them back in until it’s been cleared. Contact HQ, advise of possible bio threat and your location.”

“Ten-four.”

Marc felt Lisette standing behind him, though he couldn’t see her directly. They’d worked together enough that oftentimes it was as though they could read each other’s minds. It’s what made them a good team. “Any chance—”

“That I can keep her talking?”

“Yes,” he said, even though what he really wanted was for Lisette to evacuate with the others. She would never leave, not while the threat remained. None of the agents would. They were all dedicated. At least Ennis and the rest of the team were far enough away that if Olivia did drop the vial, they might be spared.

Lisette took a step to the side, calling out, “Olivia! Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” Olivia glanced at the vial in her hand, then back at Lisette, never noticing that Ennis had started funneling guests down the hallway. “Everything went wrong.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course not. How could you?” She looked up to the ceiling a moment, as though blinking back tears, then took a deep breath. “It was supposed to be so simple, but now I don’t know what to do.”

“I can help you, Olivia. That’s why I’m here. You know that.”

“How can you help? You don’t even know, do you? You were supposed to be gone. All of you.”

She started to turn, would have seen Ennis directing the guests down the hallway, but Lisette took a step forward, saying, “What are you talking about?”

Olivia focused on Lisette, giving a manic laugh. “This!” she said, holding up the vial. “You realize what it is, don’t you?”

“No. What is it?”

“A virus. A deadly virus. And all I was supposed to do was sprinkle it in the hors d’oeuvres and let everyone have their fill. And then I would just walk away, not eating any of it. But they’re not here . . .” She looked at the table, then back at Lisette. “The food was supposed to be on the table, and I would just place a few drops in each tray . . .”

“But you’re not going to do that,” Lisette said, slowly sidestepping, keeping Olivia’s attention on her instead of her surroundings.

“I can’t. Even if I wanted to,” Olivia said, tears in her eyes. “I would have survived this horrible tragedy. People would have looked up to me. I would have been able to govern where others failed, where my husband failed, and
everyone
would understand that I was
braving
this tragedy for the greater good.”

“You wouldn’t survive, Olivia. You’ll die right along with the rest of us once it leaves the vial and hits the air.”

“And how would you know that?”

“It’s my job. I’m a microbiologist. Whoever told you this information was just using you.”

“You’re wrong. My father wouldn’t have lied to me.”

“Yes, Olivia. That same virus killed the entire crew on a stolen freighter off the coast of Brazil. That vial you have was taken from a lab in France.”

Olivia stared openmouthed. “How did you know?” She looked around the room, as though noticing for the first time that everyone was filing out. “He wouldn’t lie to me,” she said, almost a whisper, never taking her eye off the crowd, or rather what was left of it, thirty guests Marc estimated, including his agents. She looked down at the vial, then back at the people, and Marc’s finger instinctively squeezed the trigger to that first click. A hairbreadth more . . .

“He’s using you,” Lisette said, and Olivia shifted her attention. Marc held his position, kept his aim, willing her to drop the thing.