“Not at all, moron. I figure you’ve got-oh, maybe five minutes.”
Pause.
“And how do you figure that, Mr. Hunter?”
Basement.
Thighs on fire, he shoved open the stairwell door, ran into the underground parking garage. Pushed his legs to move faster, toward the BMW.
“Because I know where you are, Wulfe.”
Pause.
“So where am I?”
He reached the car.
“Why, you’re at the Copeland residence, of course.”
Silence.
He unlocked the door, slid inside.
“Isn’t that right, Wulfe?”
Silence.
He closed the door quietly. Inserted the key into the ignition.
Don’t turn it over yet. He’ll hear.
“So, you really don’t want to start anything that you can’t finish, Wulfe. In fact, I think that if you don’t leave those ladies and run for it, you’ll be in handcuffs in…oh, let’s make that about four-and-a-half minutes, now.”
Silence.
“Unless I get to you first, that is. Don’t you remember what I promised you, Wulfe?”
Pause.
“All right, Mr. Hunter. I’ll be leaving now. But I do believe I still have enough time to take the lovely ladies with me.”
The phone went dead.
He turned the key and gunned the engine.
Tysons Corner, Virginia
Thursday, December 25, 12:11 a.m.
She watched him raise her cell phone above his head, then smash it to the floor. Pieces bounced in every direction.
He looked at her, his face a mask of cold fury.
He grabbed a large kitchen knife from the coffee table. Rushed to Susie and slashed through the bonds at her feet, freeing her legs. Then he grabbed her by the waist and lifted, raising her entire body so that her arms, with her hands still tied together behind her, cleared the back of the chair. He set her down on the seat again and began to slap her.
“Time to wake up, Susie… There’s my good girl.”
She began to moan, then struggled to hold herself upright.
He left her and moved quickly to Annie. Standing to the side of the chair so that she couldn’t kick him, he severed the bindings on her feet. Then the one around her midsection.
He returned to Susie, grabbed her by the hair, and dragged her out of the chair, over to where he had dumped the contents of Annie’s purse. Reached down and pawed through the mess until he found her car keys. Grabbed some of the cut-up ties.
Then stood and pressed the long edge of the knife to Susie’s throat.
“Now, Annie, you’re going to stand up and clear your hands from the back of the chair, just as I did for Susie. And then we’re all going upstairs, very fast, and out to your car. And if you try to run or resist or slow me down, I will cut her goddamned head off.”
12:11 a.m.
His custom BMW 7 Series High Security sedan surged out of the garage entrance.
He cut the wheel hard right, playing the gears and brakes as he had been trained in the Agency’s “crash and burn” courses over the years. Glancing to his left to make sure there was no traffic, he darted out onto Wisconsin, ripping another right.
He hit the buttons that lit up the blue-and-white strobes in the grill and rear windows and set off the police siren. Then punched it, accelerating up to Norfolk. Braking hard and working the wheel, he forced the heavy rear end of the armored car to skid around on the wet pavement so that it was sideways in the intersection, facing left.
Flooring it, he pushed it down Norfolk, whipping past the side streets with barely a glance, hoping his lights and siren would stop anyone from getting in his path.
Downshift, brake…hard left onto St. Elmo’s. Punch it again. Cross Old Georgetown.
Flying now down Wilson Lane…the high-performance V-12 engine climbing in seconds to eighty, ninety, one hundred…barreling right through stop signs and lights toward River Road and then the Beltway…
Verbal command to activate the onboard communication system… State the memorized phone number…
“Cronin,” said the familiar voice in the dash speaker.
“This is Hunter. Adrian Wulfe has kidnapped Annie Woods and Susanne Copeland at the Copeland home.” He gave the address. “Get the locals there, fast. I mean now, Cronin. ” He cut it off before the cop could utter a word.
12:16 a.m.
He forced her to drive.
Her hands and feet were free, now, but useless to her. He sat behind her in the back seat, belted in securely with a shoulder strap. But he ordered her to keep hers off. If she tried to crash the car, he’d survive. She might not.
And Susie definitely would not. He held her across his lap, on her back, face up, with the knife lying across her throat. Susie’s eyes were squeezed tight. Her lips were moving. Praying…
They were only three minutes from Susie’s house when she saw the first of the police lights up ahead, blue-and-white flashers growing as they raced toward her.
“Keep driving straight and steady. Let them go past. No tricks-or Susie’s head will be sitting beside you in the passenger seat.”
The lights sped toward her, seeming to get faster by the second. The car drew abreast, and the high-pitched squeal of its siren died off octaves lower as it blew by.
“Good girl.”
If she were alone, she would have crashed the car anyway. Suicide would be infinitely preferable to whatever he might do to her. But she had no right to make that decision for her friend.
And maybe they could still get out of this.
Dylan…
He’d survived governments and their hit teams. He’d stymied the combined investigative talents of scores of police agencies. He’d bested cold-blooded killers, both armed and bare-handed.
And he was coming for her.
She glanced into the rearview mirror. Wulfe was staring at her, unblinking-a dead, blank, malignant stare, like that of a snake.
She stared back at him.
“He is going to kill you, you know.”
He lifted one of Susie’s hands, now untied. Tapped it with the tip of the blade. “One more word, and Susie will lose this thumb.”
She turned her eyes back to the road.
*
After another minute, she made a right onto 694, heading southeast toward the destination he had ordered. She approached the Capital Beltway and passed over it.
“I don’t want us to take any side trips, my dear. Show me what the GPS tells us to do.”
She came to an intersection and stopped at the light. She flipped on the GPS.
“I’ll program the most direct route.” She hit the right buttons. “Okay, there are the instructions. See for yourself.”
The screen displayed printed instructions to stay on Route 694 all the way into Falls Church.
He leaned forward and looked.
“Good. Just keep going straight.”
She continued down 694. They reached the second traffic light within thirty seconds. After a minute, she proceeded. In another half-minute they stopped again at the intersection of Route 123.
She had programmed the most direct route.
Not the fastest.
12:18 a.m.
Lights flashing, siren blaring, the powerful car raced down the Capital Beltway at well over one hundred miles per hour. He glanced at the dashboard clock and said, “Redial previous number.”
“Cronin here.”
“Me again. What do you know?”
“I’m on my way there now. Just got a call from the Fairfax County P.D. They and the staties are on scene. They would’ve waited for SWAT, but the front door was wide open, so they chanced it and went in. It’s empty. Looks like they just missed them.”
He didn’t say anything.
“They couldn’t have gotten far, though. And it looks like he dumped the car he stole from his sister at the scene. Copeland’s is in the garage. So he’s got a fresh set of wheels, maybe whatever Ms. Woods was driving. Do you know what her car is?”
“Yes.” He told him.
“Okay, we’ll put out an alert. Copeland’s place is real close to the Beltway, and my guess is they’re on it and trying to get out of the area.”