The God's Eye View (31 page)

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. . . . . . . .
49

T
he closer they got to the meeting place, the more Evie struggled with her nervousness. It didn’t help that the driver, a voluble Scots transplant, was intent on conversation the whole way there.

“I’m a particular fan of the C&O Canal,” he assured her. “What takes you there today?”

“Just a walk with a friend.”

“Lovely place for a walk. Especially this time of year. Are you a bird watcher?”

She looked over at Dash, who was absorbed in one of the comics she’d bought him. “Uh, no, not really. I mean, I think they’re pretty, of course, but . . .”

“Well, today, if you’re very lucky, you may spy a rare Carolina wren. Or perhaps even the truly elusive common grackle. Or even a white-breasted nuthatch.”

All Evie could think about was Leed, and whether she was going to be there, and whether Hamilton would call in, and whether they would be able to decrypt the thumb drive, and when they would publish it. She wanted the man to stop talking. But she didn’t want to be memorable for being rude. Or for any other reason.

“I’m afraid I won’t even recognize them if I do,” she said. “But they do sound lovely.”

“Oh, they are. Some of the loveliest birds in the world, and right here in my own backyard. The truth is, blessings are all around us. The trick is to know the right things to focus on.”

“I . . . hadn’t thought of it that way,” Evie said, remembering how she had felt as they’d left the senior center. About how she hadn’t appreciated how many nice people there were.

“And what of your boy? A handsome lad, but very quiet.”

She considered a lie, not wanting to fit a “woman with deaf boy” description, but decided it might backfire. So she simply said, “My son is hearing impaired. He’s more comfortable signing than he is talking.”

The man laughed. “If I did all this talking only with my own hands, I’d either be exhausted, or in better condition than an Olympic athlete. Or maybe both.”

Evie chuckled politely but otherwise didn’t respond. And the man, perhaps aware of just how chatty he’d been, decided to take a little rest.

Which turned out to be a mixed blessing. The chatter had at least been mildly distracting. Without it, she found herself worrying about what Marvin would think, when he woke to find them gone. Why did she feel guilty about that? Did it mean that deep down, she believed he was on her side, even though she also knew she couldn’t afford to trust that feeling?

On top of which, there were all the ways she might have screwed up, all the ways somehow they might be on to her. And of course, even if she’d done everything right, she had to hope Leed had been equally cautious.

But no, the woman had sounded exceptionally confident, exceptionally . . . tactical. That would be a good combination. As for Evie herself, she couldn’t think of anything that would have given her away. They were almost there. They were going to make it, she and Dash. Her beautiful boy. They were going to be okay.

Remar rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It hadn’t been an easy conversation with Jones. And the wily bastard certainly knew how to negotiate. But in the end, they were both pragmatists. And while they both had their own interests, it was true too that there was much they both wanted to preserve.

The director was on the phone, reassuring the White House chief of staff that “everything was under control.” Remar had been forced to listen to a half dozen such conversations. To him, having to tell the chief of staff or the national security advisor or the secretary of defense that “everything was under control” was about as clear a sign of the opposite as he could imagine. But there wasn’t much he could do about any of it.

For the moment.

His monitor flashed. The confirmation he’d been hoping for.

“Ted,” he called out. “We’ve got her.”

The director made his apologies and cut short the call, no doubt earning himself a permanent place on the chief of staff’s shit list in the process. He hurried over to Remar’s desk. “Where?”

“Heading southwest from BWI. We accessed the cell phone microphone of every driver heading in and out of the airport. And picked her up in a cab.”

“I told you. God’s Ear. I told you.”

Remar wanted to shake his head in disgust. To hear one conversation, they’d deafened themselves to everything else. But remonstrating would be a waste of time. Instead, he just said, “Here, listen.”

He pressed a key, and they were rewarded with a recording of Gallagher conversing with someone who sounded straight out of an ad for the Macallan.

“The C&O Canal,” Remar said. “A quiet place for an exchange.”

“But where? The C&O Canal is 185 miles long. It goes all the way to Cumberland. We need to narrow it down. What’s the latency on this conversation?”

“Less than five minutes. But we’ve got geolocation on the driver’s phone now. Hang on, he’s . . .” Remar worked the keyboard for a moment, and a map overlay appeared on his screen. “Two Hundred West—the toll road.”

“My God, she’s twenty minutes away from here.”

“Yes.”

“Is this application mobile?”

“Of course.”

“The detachment’s ready to go?”

“Waiting in the parking lot.”

“Good. We’re going with them.”

Remar kept a poker face. “Is that necessary?”

“I’m not taking any chances on anyone screwing this up. One way or another, we finish this thing. Today. No matter what we have to do.”

Delgado watched the director and Remar climb into a black Suburban in front of the building and go screaming off. The Suburban was riding low on the shocks—either they were hauling some heavy cargo, or there was a full complement of large men inside.

He p
ulled out behind them, keeping a nice, safe distance. He’d followed the director before. Funny how clueless the superspooks could be. Like that former CIA and NSA director, giving an “off-the-record” phone interview on an Acela train while a near
by passenger live-tweeted the whole exchange. Or that other former NSA director, who didn’t bother to cover his MacBook’s webcam. Something about all that power seemed to make the assholes who wielded it believe they were invulnerable. Gave them the idea that they could sideline the little people who worked so hard for them.

He’d seen the director’s expression when he was talking about how Manus was still on their side. How Manus just wanted to get them the thumb drive in exchange for a promise of the woman’s safety. He could tell the director had been considering it. And that he’d sent Delgado to “get some rest” just to move him out of the way while he figured out how he wanted to handle things. While he considered the deal Manus seemed to want.

What the director didn’t understand was that there was only one deal. Which was, the freak and the bitch were going to die. Today. Along with anyone who tried to get in the way of it.

CHAPTER
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50

E
vie looked around as they drove. Once they were off the highway, the streets grew increasingly quiet and residential, as Leed had said they would. They passed numerous speed cameras, which made her nervous. She knew that depending on angle, lighting, and speed, some of these cameras could return images of passengers sharp enough for her facial recognition system to process. She reminded herself that even if her face got picked up, and even if it were recognized, the director wouldn’t be able to act on it quickly enough to make a difference. They were just a few minutes away now. Almost there.

Traffic had become sparse, but it wasn’t nonexistent, either, and she was mindful of Leed’s admonition about taking measures to ensure she wasn’t tailed. But she didn’t see how anyone could have followed her from the airport—or from earlier, for that matter. And besides, what was she going to do, tell the driver,
Hey, would you mind doubling back, and driving in circles, and zigzagging for a while? Just want to make sure we don’t have any unwanted company.

She saw a sign for Tobytown, and the driver made a left off River Road. This was it. Pennyfield Lock Road. She checked her watch—right on time. Okay.

They drove slowly along, passing nothing but trees and fields and a few modest houses, the road growing increasingly narrow and rutted as it curved left, then right, then left again, the ground to either side gradually sloping upward and the trees growing closer and closer, creating a canopy of leaves overhead. The area felt exceptionally quiet, even private. She could see why Leed had chosen it.

They came to a one-lane bridge. A sign announced that the park closed at dark.
Well
, Evie thought nervously,
we ought to be out of here before then, anyway.

A sign on the other side of the bridge announced that they had arrived at Pennyfield Lock, of the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal National Historical Park. A moment later, she saw the canal. This was where she was supposed to turn right. But if Leed was already waiting, she didn’t want the driver to see. So she let him follow the road left, and drive the short distance to a small parking area.

Dash had fallen asleep. She rubbed his leg until he moaned and opened his eyes.
Hey, good-looking
, she signed.
We’re here. Almost done with our scavenger hunt.

She paid the driver and they got out. “Enjoy the birds,” he told them, then did a K-turn and drove off.

Hey
, she signed to Dash.
We’re almost done. This is where the scavenger hunt ends.

He yawned.
You still haven’t told me the prize.

Soon. Let me carry those comic books for you, okay?

Dash handed them over. Evie made sure to keep a couple in each hand as they walked back the way they had come. As soon as they were past the road they had come in on, she saw the boat launch. There was a green minivan parked just above it—not a Sprinter, she was glad to see, about which she expected to suffer a permanent phobia. A blond woman, younger than Evie had been expecting, was standing near it. She was holding a rolled-up magazine with both hands.

Evie blew out a long breath and kept walking. This was it.

The woman looked around, then back at Evie. Evie did the same, trying not to be nervous. She didn’t see anyone else.

She stopped a few feet away. The woman said, “Hey, do you know if there’s a way to rent a kayak around here?”

“Uh, I think they’re closed for the season.”

The woman looked around again. “Okay. We’re good. Do you have it?”

“Yes. Betsy?”

“Yes. We have to hurry. Ryan should be calling any minute.”

Evie turned to Dash and handed him the comics.
Hon, hold these, okay?
Dash rolled them up and jammed them in a pocket. Evie started to reach for the thumb drive.

She heard tires on the gravel behind her. She glanced over. A white pickup. She felt a hot
rush of adrenaline and her heart started thudding hard in her chest.

“Relax,” Leed said. “Could be an early morning jogger. Just be cool.”

The pickup paused at the water. She squinted, unsure. The driver looked left, then right.

Marvin.

“Fuck,” Evie breathed.

“What is it?”

“NSA.”

“Goddamn it, you were followed?”

“I don’t know how,” she said, trying not to panic. “I don’t know how it could be possible.”

Marvin saw them. He cut the wheel right, gunned the engine, and drove toward them.

What to do? Run? Where?

Dash signed,
Hey, it’s Mr. Manus.

Marvin stopped the truck and got out. He looked at Leed, then at Evie.

You can’t give it to her
, he signed.
Don’t.

Dash signed,
Hey, Mister Manus. Are you here for the scavenger hunt?

Marvin looked at him, seemingly uncomprehending.

What are you going to do to stop me?
Evie signed.

Just give it to me. It’s the only way.

Leed looked at Marvin, then at Evie. “What is going on? What are you signing?”

“Just give me a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute.”

It’s not the only way
, she signed.
The director wants you to think that, but it’s not. You can’t trust him.

No. He’s always been fair to me.

Did she sense some uncertainty in the way his hands formed the words? She hoped so.

He’s not who you think he is, Marvin. Maybe he was once, I don’t know. But he’s not anymore. I know you can see that. I know it.

We’ll promise him you won’t tell.

It’ll never be enough. He’ll make a bunch of promises in return, and the first chance he gets, you know what will happen. To you. To me. To Dash. You
know.

A dark-haired twenty-something guy with stubble and black glasses got out of the minivan. Marvin’s right hand moved toward his hip.

No
, Evie signed.
Marvin, no!

The kid’s hands were empty. Evie thought that was fortunate. He looked around and said, “What’s going on?”

Leed kept her eyes on Marvin. “Micah, give us a minute.”

“Do we have what we came for?”

“I don’t know.”

I can’t let you give it to them
, Marvin signed.
I’m sorry.

Then you have to stop me.

He shook his head. Every time he stopped signing, his right hand went back to his hip.

Leed’s cell phone rang. She pulled it out and looked. “It’s him.”

I’m not going to spend the rest of my life afraid
, Evie signed.
I won’t.

Evie, please. Don’t make me.

Leed put the phone to her ear. “Are you all right?” she said. A pause, then, “Yes, I’m right here with her. But we have a slight problem. Stand by.”

This isn’t who you are
, Evie signed.
This isn’t who you have to be. You’re not a bad person, Marvin. You’re not.

Yes, I am.

Not if you don’t want to be.

Marvin’s hand went behind his back. “Don’t, Evie,” he said, his voice loud, intimidating. “Don’t.”

She didn’t think. She didn’t consider. She just kept her eyes on his.

Pulled the drive from her pocket.

And handed it to Leed.

Marvin slumped. He put his fingers to his temples and slowly shook his head.

Leed said, “I have it. Text us the passphrase. Micah and me both. Hurry.”

There were two incoming chimes. The guy named Micah looked at his phone. “Got it.”

Leed tossed him the drive. Micah caught it one-handed. “Go!” she said. Micah turned and raced back to the van.

“We’re sharing it,” Leed said into her phone. “The
Guardian
,
McClatchy
, the
Nation
,
ProPublica
,
Rolling Stone
,
WikiLeaks.
Plus various individuals we trust. Micah’s got a satellite link. He’s decrypting and uploading right now. Everyone’s ready. Everyone has their own passphrase. Can you stay on the phone with me? I want to know everything you learned directly from Perkins. The context. His impressions. The more you can tell me, the faster we’ll get through the documents. And the faster we can publish. They can’t put this genie back in the bottle. Not anymore. Give me a day, and we’re going to get you home.”

“Go,” Evie said to her. “Now.”

Leed looked at Marvin, then at Evie. “Look, why don’t you come with Micah and me? It’ll be safer for you. And we could really use your help to—”

“I’m fine. Just publish what’s on that fucking thumb drive.”

There was a pause, then Leed nodded. “Count on it.” She ran to the van, got in the driver’s side, and roared out of the parking area.

Dash tugged at her arm.
Mommy, what’s going on? Who were those people?

Journalists, hon. Helping us.

Is the scavenger hunt over?

She nodded.

Did we win?

She looked at Marvin.
Yes. I think we did.

Marvin just stood there, his shoulders slumped, slowly shaking his head.

It’s okay
, she signed.
I told you. You’re not a bad person.

He let out a long sigh.
They won’t ever stop.

She heard tires on the gravel again. She looked up, alarmed. Marvin followed her gaze. A black Suburban came barreling down the road right toward them.

Evie looked at him, not understanding.
Did you do this?

But she could see from his expression, his body language, that he hadn’t. He looked to his pickup, and must have decided it was too far to get all three of them there in time. He moved so that he was between Evie and the Suburban, then put a hand on Dash’s shoulder and eased the boy behind him, too. The hand stayed behind his
back. Evie could see it was resting on the butt of his gun.

The Suburban stopped ten feet away, pointed straight at them. The
doors opened. Four large men in shades got out. They had longish hair
and were wearing casual clothes, but they looked fit. Military-serious.
They kept behind the doors. Each of them pointed a gun at Marvin.

Dash turned to her, his eyes wide. She shook her head—
no questions
—and pulled him close.

Remar came out. And then—of course—the director.

“Marvin,” he said. “What would I do without you? My most reliable aide. My most trusted.”

Evie felt gut-punched. Had Marvin been working for the director the whole time? But then why had he positioned himself as though to protect them?

“You’re too late,” she said, surprising herself with her bravado. “The thumb drive’s gone. The
Intercept
has it. And they’ve already uploaded it to a dozen mirror sites. Everyone’s going to know what you’ve been up to. All your business, all your secrets. Let’s see how you like it.”

Did his face lose a little color? Yeah, she thought maybe it did.

He looked at Marvin. “Marvin, what’s going on? Do you have it?”

Marvin shook his head. “No. It’s gone. She’s telling you the truth.”

The color the director’s face had lost a moment before was nothing. Because suddenly he looked practically bloodless.

Remar walked over and put a hand on the director’s shoulder. “Ted. Listen.”

The director shook off the hand. “How could you?” he said to Marvin. “Betray me? For what? A sweaty little romp? Don’t you think I knew? Yes, even before you told me. I knew.”

There was a long pause. Marvin said, “You only know what you see. You don’t know what I feel.”

“Really. Well, let’s see about that.” He turned to the men behind him. “Take care of them.”

Evie dropped, spun around, and threw her arms around Dash to shield him with her body. But she heard a new voice, a deep Southern baritone: “No. You will not ‘take care of them.
’
”

She turned and saw a tall black man in a blue army service uniform emerging from the Suburban. She recognized him from television—Vernon Jones, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

“What are you talking about?” the director said. “We need to finish this.”

Jones shook his head. “It’s already over. You need to listen to Mike.”

The director looked at Remar. “All right,” he said, massaging his shoulders, “what is going on here?”

Remar shook his head and looked down. “I’m sorry, Ted. It’s time for new management. Long past time, in fact. You must see that.”

The director’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “You scheming son of a bitch.”

Remar nodded. “I guess you can’t know everything after all.”

“After what I’ve done for you? I
saved
you. I pulled you from the fires of hell, you ungrateful bastard, I promoted you and protected you. Without me, you’d be nothing. You’d be dead, ashes, a cinder!”

“I know. And I’ll never be able to repay you for it. Although God knows I’ve tried. But this is bigger than that, Ted. Bigger than you and me. It can’t keep going like this. The fact that you don’t realize that . . . you’re not fit anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Are you insane? You’re implicated in all of it.”

“No. Not really. God’s Eye was your baby. So were its uses. That audit you had me conduct? There was a lot Perkins could have gotten. But he didn’t have everything. We’ll rebuild. But we’ll be more sensible this time. More discriminating. More discreet. Ted, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Please.”

“Like hell you’ll rebuild. You think I don’t know? I know everything.
Everything
!
”

Remar looked at Jones.

Jones nodded and said, “Take him.”

Two of the men came forward and grabbed the director by the arms. He started to struggle, but the men barely seemed to notice. “Marvin!” he shouted. “Marvin, stop them!”