"That can wait," Buchanan said with urgency. "Right now we have to take care of the man behind these people." He looked down at the dead men.
"You can add one more to that count," Lee said. "He's outside taking a dip in the ocean."
Reynolds looked exasperated. "Everybody except for me seems to know everything." She turned to Buchanan with a scowl. "Okay, I'm listening. What's your suggestion?"
Buchanan started to answer when they all heard the sound of a plane coming in. Their eyes went to the window, where the dawn had broken.
"It's just the commuter service. It's daylight. First flight in. The runway's across the street," Faith explained.
"That I do know," Reynolds said.
"I suggest we use your friend there," Buchanan said, nodding at Connie, "to communicate with this person."
"And tell him what?"
"That his operation was a total success, except that his men were killed in the ensuing battle. He'll understand that, of course. Losses happen. But that Faith and I were killed and the tape was destroyed. That way he'll feel safe."
"And me?" Lee said.
Buchanan glanced at him. "We'll let you be our wild card."
"And why exactly should I do that?" Reynolds wanted to know. "When I could take you and Faith, and him"—she flicked her pistol at Connie—"to the WFO, get my job back and walk away a hero?"
"Because if you do that, the man who has caused all of this will go free. Free to do something like this again."
Reynolds looked confused and troubled.
Buchanan watched her closely. "It's up to you."
Reynolds looked at each of them and then her gaze came to rest on Lee. She noted the blood on his sleeve, the cuts and bruises on his face.
"You saved all of our lives. You're probably the most innocent person in this room. What do you think?"
Lee looked at Faith and then at Buchanan before coming back to Reynolds. "I don't think I can give you a great reason to do it, but if you want my gut, I'd say to go along with them."
Reynolds sighed and looked over at Connie. "You have a way of contacting this monster?" Connie said nothing. "Connie, you work with us on this, it'll help you. I know you were just prepared to kill all of us, and I shouldn't give a damn about what happens to you." She paused and looked down for a moment. "But I do. Last chance, Connie, what do you say?"
Connie's big hands clenched and unclenched nervously. He looked at Buchanan. "What exactly do you want me to say?"
Buchanan told him precisely, and Connie sat down on the couch, picked up the phone and dialed. When the line was answered, he said, "This is . . . "—Connie looked embarrassed for a moment—"this is Ace-in-the-Hole." A few minutes later Connie put down the phone and looked at each of them. "Okay, it's done."
"Did he seem to buy it?" Lee asked.
"Yes, but you can never be sure with these guys."
"Good, enough; that gives us some time," Buchanan said.
"Well, right now we have some things to tend to," Reynolds said. "Like a number of dead bodies. And I've got to report in. And get you"—she looked at Connie—"into a cell."
Connie glared at her. "So much for loyalty," he said.
She glared back. "You made your choices. What you did for us will help you. But you're going to be in prison a long time, Connie. At least you get to live. That's more of a choice than Ken had."
She looked at Buchanan. "Now what?"
"I suggest we leave here immediately. Once we're out of the area, you can call the police. When we get back to Washington, Faith and I will meet with the FBI, tell them what we know. We must keep everything completely secret. If he knows we're working with the FBI, we'll never get the proof we need."
"This guy had Ken killed?"
"Yes."
"Is he with a foreign interest?"
"Actually, you both have the same employer." Reynolds looked at him, stunned. "Uncle Sam?" she said slowly.
Buchanan nodded. "If you trust me, I will do my best to bring him to you. I have my own personal score to settle with him."
"And what exactly do you expect in return?"
"For me? Nothing. If I go to prison, I go to prison. But Faith goes free. Unless you can guarantee me that, you can just call the police right now."
Faith grabbed his arm. "Danny, you're not taking the fall for this."
"Why not? It was my doing."
"But your reasons—"
"Reasons are no defense. I knew I was taking a chance when I broke the law."
"Well, so did I, dammit!"
Buchanan turned back to Reynolds. "Do we have a deal? Faith does not go to prison."
"I'm really not in a position to offer you anything." She pondered the issue for a moment. "But I can promise you this: If you are shooting straight with me, I'll do everything in my power to see that Faith goes free."
Connie stood up, suddenly looking pale. "Brooke, I need to hit the john, like quick." He was wobbly on his feet; one hand slid to his chest.
She glanced at him suspiciously. "What's the matter?" She scrutinized his pallid features. "Are you all right?"
"To tell you the truth, I've been better," he mumbled, his head rolling to one side, his left side drooping.
"I'll go with him," Lee said.
As the pair started to the stairs, Connie seemed to lose his balance and he pressed his hand hard against the center of his chest, his face contorted in pain. "Shit. Oh, God!" He dropped to one knee, moaning, saliva dripping out of his mouth; he started gurgling.
"Connie!" Reynolds started toward him.
"He's having a heart attack," Faith cried out.
"Connie!" Reynolds said again as she stared at her stricken partner, who was fast sinking to the floor, his body twitching uncontrollably.
The movement was fast. It seemed too fast for a man in his fifties, but then again, desperation could mix with adrenaline in a flash.
Connie's hand dipped to his ankle. A compact pistol was in a holster there. The gun was out and aimed before anyone could react. Connie had multiple targets, but he chose Danny Buchanan and fired.
The only one who reacted as fast as Connie did was Faith Lockhart.
From where she was standing next to Buchanan, she saw the pistol come out before anyone else. She saw the barrel pointed at her friend. In her mind she could hear the explosion that would launch the bullet that would kill Buchanan. How she moved that fast was inexplicable.
The bullet hit Faith in the chest; she gasped once and then dropped at Buchanan's feet.
"Faith!" Lee screamed. Instead of tackling Connie, he lunged for her.
Reynolds's gun was trained on Connie. As he swung the pistol around in her direction, the image of the palm reader flashed through her mind. That all-too-short life line. Mother of Two, Federal Agent Dead. She saw the headline fully and boldly in her mind. The whole thing was almost paralyzing. Almost.
She and Connie locked gazes. He was bringing up his pistol, lining it up with her. He would pull the trigger, she had no doubt. He clearly had the nerve, the balls to kill. Did she? Her finger tightened on her own trigger as the entire world seemed to slow to the pace of an underwater world, where gravity was either suspended or magnified. Her partner. An FBI agent. A traitor. Her children. Her own life. Now or never.
Reynolds pulled the trigger once and then a second time. The recoil was short, her aim perfect. As the bullets entered Connie's body, his bulk quivered, his mind perhaps still sending messages, not yet realizing that it was dead.
Reynolds thought she saw Connie stare searchingly at her as he started to go down, the gun falling from his hand. That image would haunt her forever. Only when Agent Howard Constantinople hit the floor and didn't move again did Brooke Reynolds take a breath.
"Faith, Faith!" Lee was tearing at her shirt, exposing the horribly bloody wound in her chest. "Oh my God. Faith." She was unconscious, her breathing barely detectable.