She’s way too convincing as a nervous socialite.
“Don’t worry, I’m not an agent,” she says quickly, as if afraid I’m going to shoot her for that revelation. “I dropped out of the training program after Wally got me pregnant. I ended up miscarrying that child, but I never went back. You see, Wally and I got married, and he left the agency shortly after, wanting to pursue a career in the military so he could have a more stable family life—which meant I had to stay home with the children.”
I pick up my cup of coffee. “And you’re telling me all this why?”
“Because I want you to understand why I’m here.” Her eyes burn into my face as I sip the hot, bitter liquid. “I joined the agency because I’m a patriot, Mr. Sokolov. Because I wanted to protect our country from threats both foreign and domestic… from terrorists who’d blow up a building just because.”
The puzzle pieces finally click together.
Of course.
That’s what pushed her over the edge.
“When did you find out?” I ask, putting down the coffee.
“That Wally was behind the FBI bombing in Chicago? A few days ago—at the same time as I learned that he let all our friends and relatives die rather than give in to your demands.” She sounds almost calm as she says this, but I can see what it’s costing her.
However she came across that information, it must’ve been a painful shock.
“Why come to me, though?” I ask, examining her closely. “Surely, you must hate me for what I’ve done to you and your family. Why not just turn your husband in to the authorities? I assume the evidence you have is pretty damning.”
She nods. “It is—and that’s another thing I can offer you. If you keep your side of the bargain, I will do my best to clear your name—of that particular crime, at least. As to why I’m here, talking to you, that’s very simple.” She draws in a breath. “I’m tired, Mr. Sokolov. I’m exhausted from fearing and hating you, and so are my children. Turning Wally in wouldn’t end this nightmare for us; the trial would drag on for years, and all along, you’d be trying to get to him through us. This is the best way—the only way—to bring this to an end. I will never forgive you for what you’ve done to my family, but I will make this bargain with you.” Her voice cracks. “All I want is for this to be over… for my children to resume their normal lives.”
She’s convincing, I will give her that. So convincing that I’m tempted to believe her. But there is one more thing I need to know. “When I first spoke to you, you thought I was someone your husband sent. I assume that means he’s been looking for you. How is it that he didn’t find you already, with all of his connections?”
Her face tightens again. “I have connections of my own, Mr. Sokolov. My husband has never understood that. He thinks his success is due to his own brilliance, but I’ve been at his side all along, smoothing the way, making friends with all the right people, schmoozing with their wives at all the right—” She stops, as if realizing how pointless her bitter recollections are. “In any case,” she continues, “I’ve been preparing for the past two years, just in case I ended up as a widow with you on our tail. I had documents for myself and the kids, along with money and everything else required to stay hidden on our own. But then this happened.”
“And you used your emergency stash to run from your husband instead.”
Her mouth thins. “Right. So tell me, Mr. Sokolov, do we have a bargain? If I deliver my husband to you, will you let us be?”
I pick up my coffee again. “You said you don’t know where he is.”
“I don’t—but I know what he values more than anything in the world.”
“And that is?”
She gives me a level look. “Our daughter. Amber. She’s the only person besides himself that he truly loves.”
I have to hide my surprise again. Is this woman actually considering giving us her teenage daughter as a hostage?
Is she fucking insane?
“All right,” I say, putting down the cup. If she is off her meds, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “That does sound like a good plan—and yes, if we succeed in luring him out with your daughter, I will leave you and your children alone.” And I mean it, too. Though I’d love to have Henderson suffer with the knowledge that his family is dead, I was never really after his wife and kids.
It’s his head on a spike that I want.
“In that case, here you go.” She takes out a phone and pushes it across the table toward me. “This is all you should need for now, but there’s more where that came from—as long as you let me leave here today.”