“Who are you going to call?”

Ghostbusters. “FedPol,” he said, and dialed.

Pierre Menard answered on the first ring. Did the man never go on vacation? Maybe sleep late the occasional morning? “Nicholas? It is the middle of the night in New York? What are you doing working?”

Menard’s thick French accent was comfortingly familiar. They’d worked together several times in the past, and Nicholas trusted Menard. He’d never let him down.

“Why do you assume I’m working, Pierre?”

A small laugh, and he pictured Menard shaking his head. “I know you, and I heard about the Bayway bombing. Now what can I do for you?”

“Do you have friends in Munich?”

“Oui, naturellement. I have friends everywhere.”

“Good. I need someone to grab a hacker named Gunther Ansell. He lives in the Glockenbach. He should be home asleep right now. I need him taken silently, and I need him taken now.”

“I believe I have heard this name recently. You said he’s a hacker? One of your sort?”

“He is. Where did you hear his name?”

“Interpol sent out a Blue Notice for him last week, to gather more information about his criminal activity on the Internet. But the notice was canceled yesterday. One moment, Nicholas.”

He heard papers shuffling in the background. Interpol had a variety of color-coded “notices” running the gamut from red to a mild yellow, warnings against wanted criminals, upcoming attacks, or even simply requests for more information.

Menard came back on the line. “It is as I thought. I am sorry to have to tell you this. Gunther Ansell was killed three days ago. Shot in a robbery on the street near his apartment. The police have no suspects.”

17

ROOK TO D1

Brooklyn

Vanessa watched Andy hit the buttons on the phone, knew it was a matter of moments before her time was up. She gauged the distance to the door, not that it mattered, since Matthew’s Beretta never wavered from her chest. She’d try one last time. Maybe Matthew would look away and she’d have a chance.

“Go ahead, Andy, make the call. I’ve told you already, Matthew, it’s not my phone. This will prove it.”

She saw Matthew smooth back his hair, a habit of his that meant he wasn’t certain, maybe about her guilt? Had she gotten through to him when she’d brought up Darius?

Andy put the call on speaker. The phone rang four times, then a woman’s voice answered, loud enough to be heard over the din in the background. “Green’s Pizza. Can I help you?”

“Pizza?”

“Yeah, babe. That’s what we do. Make a mean calzone, too, if you’re interested. What’ll it be? Got a fourteen-inch pie on special, pepperoni and mushroom.”

“Hey, you sound pretty, well, never mind. Thank you.” Andy turned off the phone. His crazy eyes shone. “How about that, a pizza place in Delaware this time. The last call, the geo-locator says the call went to a Korean BBQ joint in Arlington, Virginia. Why have you been calling restaurants, Vanessa? And why does the same number take us to different places?”

“Matthew, listen to me, I have no reason to betray you. I make bombs, I love to watch them work and work well. I’m proud to be a part of your group. It’s Darius, Matthew. It’s Darius.”

Andy said, “Darius? That stone-cold freak killer? There’s no reason for him to turn traitor. But that’s good, Vanessa, you sound real sincere accusing him, but you’re lying. What do you think, Ian?”

Ian looked ready to both cry and kill her where she stood. Like Matthew. “Van, you not only betrayed Matthew, you betrayed me. Me, Van. I’ve known something was up these past couple of weeks. I’ve suspected you really weren’t who you said you were, but I didn’t want to see it. I told myself you were for real, you’d never betray me, betray us. Did you set me up in Londonderry?”

What had she done to make him suspect? It didn’t matter now. She said, “Darius has gotten into your head, too, Ian? Don’t you see? Darius tried to drive a wedge between us, has been since he came to us in Tahoe. He’s the outsider; he’s the one we don’t know. He brought you that case full of money, blinded you, Matthew, made you accept him. You’re the one to blame here, Matthew, you were the one who brought him right into the fold. He’s got to be the one who’s betrayed us.”

Matthew stared from her to Ian, then he burst out laughing. “Darius, betray us? Now, that’s rich, Vanessa. Darius isn’t who you think he is, but I know, I know.” He paused, his eyes flashed bright and excited. “Darius is the devil and he never betrays one of his own souls.”

All over.

Vanessa pushed off the wall, kicked the Beretta out of Matthew’s hand.

She grabbed an empty beer bottle from the table, cracked it, leaving jagged edges. She stood facing them. Could she get to Matthew’s gun? Six feet away, she could do it. She started to move, stopped cold.

Andy was pointing her own gun at her, and said, his voice a crazy singsong. “Put the bottle down, Vanessa. You’re such a pretty little liar. I kind of liked you.”

She lunged at him, ripped at his face with the beer bottle. Matthew yelled, “Don’t shoot, Andy, don’t shoot! Get away from her, get back!”

Andy jumped back.

“Vanessa.”

She slowly turned to see Matthew smiling at her. “Good-bye, Vanessa.” And he raised his Beretta.

“No!” Ian lunged at Matthew and Matthew shot him in the heart. Ian stared an instant at Vanessa, then slowly slid to the floor and slumped over onto his side.

Matthew looked down at Ian. “You fool.” He looked at her now. “I think he loved you more than he did me.”

He aimed the Beretta at her, smiled, and shot her.

18

KNIGHT TO B6

Back to Federal Plaza

Mike left the safe house in Bayonne a little before two in the morning, hyper, full of adrenaline from the explosion, and rage pounding through her from the murder of three of her friends.

She drove Louisa’s pool car, and the sucker was fast. There was next to no traffic at this dead-night hour and she made it back to Federal Plaza in record time, and who cared if she broke a few traffic laws along the way?

As she drove down the ramp and into the silent garage, she wondered how long the adrenaline would last before she bottomed out and keeled over. No, the rage would keep her upright and alert.

She parked the car, tossed the keys to the agent stuck on night duty—Prother was his name—and he gawked at her. She’d forgotten what a mess she was. She nearly smiled, waved him quiet. She stopped the elevator at the twenty-second floor and hit the kitchen, pulling out sodas and apples from the refrigerator. Her last meal had been too long ago and there was a long night to get through.

She found Nicholas and Gray in the conference room, papers spread out on the table, both tapping furiously on their respective keyboards. She set down the sodas and apples. Nicholas didn’t break stride. “Thanks. You okay?”

When the words wouldn’t come out, he looked up at her.

“Mike?”

“Of course. Fill me in.” She slid a Coke to Gray, opened her own.

Nicholas said, “Gray and I managed to stop the cyber-attack on the oil companies. I recognized the signature of a German hacker, but Menard told me he’d been killed a few days ago.”

“This has already gone international?”

“Yes.”

She pushed hair out of her face, jerked it back into a ponytail. How odd, even her scalp hurt. “Someone’s covering their tracks, then. You think your hacker friend was hired to do the work, then eliminated when they didn’t need him anymore? But who did it, Nicholas? He was killed in Germany and COE is here.”