The Survivors (30 page)

She heard me and spun around. Scottie tried to snatch his gun out of the backpack. It snagged on the trigger guard.

“Scottie, don't!” I kept running.

It took Weston a moment more to recognize me, and she wheeled back on Scottie.

“Come on. Take it easy,” I said, stopping between them.

Scottie still was trying to get the gun out, and he cursed. Weston saw it then.

“Put it down,” she said evenly.

I checked, hoping the safety was on, but I could see the red dot.

“Scottie, listen to her.”

He yanked so hard the zipper tore, but that only tangled the gun up more.

Weston kept her eyes fixed on him and motioned to me. “Get back.”

I wished I was half as calm as she sounded. “I'm not going to let you shoot him.”

She moved sideways a half step, and I shifted in front of her. “He didn't come here to hurt anybody. Jamie, please.”

Hearing her first name, her eyes flicked to me.

“What's he doing with a gun?” she said.

“He's been shot before,” I said. “It makes him feel safer. Come on, you've got him scared half to death.”

Scottie wasn't struggling anymore, but he didn't have to. He could bring the whole thing up—bag and gun—and shoot anyway. He seemed to realize that at the same moment I did, and he slipped his hand around the grip.

“You need to put that down and come with me,” she said.

Scottie's hands were shaking badly. If he got his finger on the trigger, he might shoot any one of us.

“Please,” I said to her. “We've all got to back off, find another time to settle this. Look at him. You know I'm right.”

She twitched her head, easing some of her own tension.

“
Weston?
” Cade's voice, right in front of the house.

“Jamie,” I said, “we can work it out. Just not like this, not now.”

Her eyes came to mine, and I managed to smile. “Trust me—OK?”

“
Weston, where are you?
” Cade yelled.

Her eyes stayed with me. I put my hands on her arms and gently pushed down. She fought the pressure—“Please?”—and gave in.

“Cade, I'm here,” she called, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe what she was doing. “No luck. He must be gone.” She holstered her gun as she jogged toward the street.

Scottie was still trembling, but he gave a sudden wild smile. “Hey, thanks.” Now that he wasn't struggling, the gun had come free, and he tossed it like a toy.

“Be quiet or I'll take that damned thing and deck you with it.”

I led Scottie to the far end of the yard and up the driveway. Cade and Weston were in the street, standing only inches from each other. “—none of your business, Jamie,” Cade said.

“I just made it my business. You're going to tell me why he was here.”

Cade gave a mean laugh. “Or you'll do what?”

“The way I read it, Russo agrees with me. You don't want to cross him.”

“Russo? This is way past him,” Cade said.

She jabbed her finger in his chest. “See how you feel about that in six months, when Russo's full-time in the US Attorney job, and he runs you off to Anchorage.”

“You need to keep up with the news, Weston.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“The White House pulled Russo's nomination for US Attorney this afternoon. He's not going to be running anybody off anywhere.” He gave another cold laugh. “Looks like this boat's sailed without you.”

He turned and walked down the street, while Weston stood there, clearly stunned. Then she jogged after him. “Cade, wait. Why did . . .” I strained forward but couldn't catch the rest of it.

A few moments later, a car engine fired up and lights flashed on.

“We need to get back where they won't see us,” I said to Scottie. He was sitting against the house, staring into space. I hauled him behind some trash cans.

The car passed, and I let go of him. “Ow,” he said, rubbing his arm. “That hurt.”

“Sorry. Come on, we've got to get back to my car.”

“Not until we find Felix's phone,” he said.

He had a point. I didn't want to leave anything behind that would tie Felix to our troubles. “You stay here. I'll get it.”

After five minutes of looking, I took out my phone and dialed Felix's number. I heard the ring one house down and on the other side of the street. I grabbed it and ran back to Scottie. I didn't want to spend another minute on that street.

He was still slumped behind the trash cans. “OK, I've got it.” He didn't move. I could smell the scotch on him, heavy and sweet. “Scottie.”

He bolted to his feet. There was a bright, terrified look in his eyes that slowly flared out.

“Guess I fell asleep,” he said.

“Give me that.” I took the backpack and made sure the gun was inside.

“Sorry—are you mad at me?”

“Let's just get out of here.” I started to walk away.

He shuffled a few paces behind. “You think I'm kinda messed up, don't you?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

THIRTY-ONE

I
got Scottie's bicycle and put it in the car. For the next half hour I drove around—across Key Bridge into Rosslyn, a big loop past the Pentagon and back over the Potomac on the 14th Street Bridge. I was making sure no one was following us and giving myself time to decompress. Scottie knew enough to keep quiet, but he was fidgeting like mad. I finally had to tell him to sit still and quit playing with the car window. We were crossing the Mall then, and I turned and parked by the Hirshhorn Museum.

“We need some rules here,” I said. “First—” I pointed at the backpack. “—that gun has to go.”

“The hell it does,” he snapped.

I reached for it, and he yanked it away.

“Do you have the safety on?”

He slipped his hand in, and I heard a click.

“Put it in the backseat. Go on. Do it.”

He muttered something but did as I told him.

We both stared outside for a while. Though the museums were closed for the night, there were quite a few people around, tourists from the looks of them. The Labor Day–weekend crowd.

“Why did you go to Russo's house?” I said.

“It's what I was going to do all along—make him talk to me.”

“And Cade and Weston just happened to show up?”

“They came with him. They were in different cars, but they got there at the same time.”

I took out my phone. Scottie watched while I signed into my e-mail account and found the photo Cass Russo had sent me.

“Was this man there?” I said.

“Yes, he showed up about ten minutes after the others. Who is he?”

“Howard Markaris. I thought I recognized that black limo of his. He works for Ned Bowles at Braeder.”

“I knew they were all in—”

I sighed, and that made him stop. “We won't know anything until I talk to Jamie Weston. She was angry that Markaris was there. She doesn't like his type, not when they get in the way of her job.”

“You think we can trust her?” he said.

“She just let you walk away after you tried to pull a gun on her.”

“That's right, she did.” He laughed, and there was something so off-balance about it that I put my hand on his shoulder.

“I said there have to be some rules. No more drinking. If you take even one drink, I'll throw you out, and that's the end of it.”

“Sure, no problem. But you'll still help me?”

“Yes—as long as you keep yourself under control.”

He smiled broadly. “Absolutely!”

I knew better than to believe that kind of easy promise. But I wasn't being totally straight with Scottie either. Markaris showing up at Russo's house had tipped the scales for me. Somehow—in our blundering around in the dark, as Weston put it—we'd lifted the cover on something. No matter what the consequences, I wanted answers as much as Scottie did.

I didn't think going to my apartment was a good idea, so I decided to give Felix one more try. The lights were out when we got there, but I could see the flicker of the TV set through a window. Scottie got to the door first and knocked.

“Well, look what the cat dragged back,” Felix said when he saw us. His hair was tousled, and his eyes were puffy.

“Did we wake you?” I said.

“The Cubs blew a three run lead in the eighth. It's Bartman all over again. Why stay awake?”

Scottie had asked me for Felix's phone, and he held it out, cupped in both hands like a prayer offering. “I'm sorry I took this, and sorry I ran away.”

“You damn well better be,” Felix said.

Scottie stepped past him, inside. “Coop! How you doin' boy?” They skittered away to the sunroom.

“Where did you find him?” Felix said.

“Long story.”

“I'm listening.”

“Felix it's late. Maybe tomorrow—”

“I'll put on a pot of coffee.”

We sat at the table in the kitchen. Scottie was still in the sunroom with Coop. Felix had an amazing nose for bull, so I wasn't going to get away with lying to him. I told him about all the research Scottie had done, all the people we'd talked to. He tried hard to keep his opinions to himself, but a couple of times he shook his head and said, “Damned fools.” I was pretty sure he meant Scottie and me.

I was nearing the end when he got up and went across the hall. He tiptoed back to the kitchen. “Sound asleep, both of them. You know, Coop's picky about people. He loves that guy like a brother.”

“He's kind of like a big puppy.”

Felix squinted at me, as if he was going to have to think about that.

“What do you think Markaris was doing at Russo's house?” he said.

“Weston was furious about it. My guess is Markaris was there to do more than just be kept informed. He's probably calling the shots, at least some of them.”

“Russo is really out as US Attorney?”

“That's what Cade said. Weston couldn't believe it.”

“That means somebody thinks Russo is a liability.”

I said, “Or maybe he's expendable. He's got no connection with Braeder anymore. If somebody's going to catch the blame for something, he might be the perfect fall guy. The White House got tipped off, and they're washing their hands of him.”

“Sounds reasonable. Then again, with as little as you know, just about anything sounds reasonable. I know you've heard me say it before, but this whole thing could turn into a disaster for you. You should back away. Hell, run away.”

“Somebody broke into my office and got into the files. I've got to find out who and why.”

A squeak came from the hallway, and we both turned. “How long have you been out there?” I called.

Scottie peeked around the corner. “Since Felix came to check on me. Thanks for the blanket, by the way.”

He shuffled in, heading straight for the coffee. He'd left his baseball cap in the sunroom, and his hair was standing on end in a Woody Woodpecker do. Felix chuckled when he saw it.