They'd settled on the small town of Charles Town, West Virginia, which was only seven miles from Harpers Ferry. Why not meet with Gadanz, Sterling figured. Why not at least hear what he had to say? It wasn't like he had to fly around the world and trek deep into an insect-infested jungle along a muddy path slithering with snakes. It was seven miles through some rolling hills across a paved road.

Gadanz had flown into the small airport of Hagerstown, Maryland, then been driven here in some kind of common-looking car, Sterling a.s.sumed. It was important for Gadanz to travel anonymously wherever he went, but it was especially crucial for him to do so in the United States. What the federal authorities wouldn't give to nab Daniel Gadanz. There had to be a huge reward for information leading to his arrest-though probably not three hundred million.

It was four minutes past eight in the morning, and they were meeting in a nasty room of a shabby motel located just outside Charles Town's small downtown.

"So," Gadanz said, "you want to abort Operation Anarchy."

"Yes, Daniel. There are too many-"

"I don't care about your objections or your concerns," Gadanz interrupted, holding up one hand. "I don't care why you want to abort the mission. I just want you to change your mind and make it happen."

Sterling had been thinking about what he'd do to Kyle when his men caught up with the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Slowly tearing the man limb from limb seemed too kind. "Daniel, under no circ.u.mstances will I-"

"I'll pay you a billion dollars to complete this mission. Yes, Liam, I said a billion, in case you're thinking you didn't hear me right."

Sterling could actually feel his jaw drop.

"And," Gadanz continued, "I'll cut the kill list to fourteen." He pulled a piece of paper and a pair of reading gla.s.ses from his pocket. "The president, vice president, Senate Majority Leader, Speaker of the House, FBI director, CIA director, three Supreme Court justices including the chief justice, secretary of state, secretary of defense, Bill Jensen, Troy Jensen, and Jack Jensen." He paused as he removed the gla.s.ses from his wide nose. "I want to hit only the major players now."

Sterling blinked several times. He hadn't been listening to the names Gadanz was reeling off. He'd been replaying the new bounty amount over and over in his mind. "A billion dollars?" It was an unfathomable amount of money, so huge it seemed impossible to draw a risk-return curve that had any degree of accuracy. How could he put a utilitarian value on a billion dollars?

"Yes, a billion. And as I said, I've pared the list considerably." Gadanz gestured at Sterling with the unlighted cigar he was sucking on like a pacifier. "Have you sent your a.s.sa.s.sin team away yet? Please tell me you haven't done that."

Sterling shook his head. "No, they're all still in Harpers Ferry."

"Good," Gadanz said as his shoulders slumped noticeably, "very good. So, do we have a-" He leaned forward in his chair, grabbed his hair with both hands, shut his eyes tightly, and moaned loudly.

Sterling rose quickly from his chair, picked up the cigar from the floor, and held it out for Gadanz, who s.n.a.t.c.hed it as he leaned back in the chair and exhaled heavily. "What the h.e.l.l is wrong with you, Daniel?"

"Nothing," Gadanz snapped. "Now, do we have a deal?"

"Who's your anonymous contact?" It had to be a brain tumor, Sterling figured as he sat back down. "Who told you about Red Cell Seven?"

"I thought I made myself clear in Peru. You were never to ask-"

"Daniel, if you don't tell me right now, I'm walking out of here, and the h.e.l.l with a billion dollars. Does that tell you how much I want the answer?"

"I suppose," Gadanz agreed grudgingly. He sucked on the cigar for several moments. "It's Shane Maddux."

A palpable shock wave surged through Sterling. "Shane Maddux?" he whispered as the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rose.

"Yes."

For a few seconds, Sterling didn't believe it. Then, as he thought about it more, it began to make sense. It had to be the truth. How could Gadanz possibly make up something like that? It was so off the wall it had to be true. And how else would he have such intimate details of the secret cell's inner workings?

"But why?"

"Shane Maddux hates David Dorn with a pa.s.sion I've never seen before," Gadanz explained. "He hates that man more than I've ever seen anyone hate anyone or anything. And that's saying a lot, because I truly hate the people who killed my brother, Jacob. But Maddux beats me on this, and it's quite impressive. Maddux," Gadanz continued, "believes that President Dorn is destroying the United States by going soft on terrorism, by severely constraining what intelligence officers can do during interrogations, even limiting basic actions they can take in the field. Even worse for Maddux, he believes that Dorn is personally trying to destroy Red Cell Seven. So he believes Dorn must be terminated." Gadanz relaxed as the shooting pains in his head finally subsided. "He tried to a.s.sa.s.sinate Dorn in Los Angeles a year ago, and now he's trying to kill him again. With my help," Gadanz added with a nasty chuckle as he gestured at Sterling. "And yours."

"What about all the other targets of Operation Anarchy? Why would he want to kill all those people?"

"Maddux proposed a few of the other targets in the original group. Others he believes are not friendly to Red Cell Seven. But I added most of them in order to heighten the chaos of the day," Gadanz said grandly, as if he was very impressed with himself. "Shane was fine with that, not that I really cared one way or the other. Shane wants Dorn dead exponentially more than anyone else on the list. And I want chaos. We had a meeting of the minds."

"Maddux got the pictures of Troy Jensen with that woman in Spain. The ones we showed Jennie Perez."

"Yes."

"Maddux is the one who knew about Dorn's illegitimate daughter. Maddux was the one who told you about Shannon, aka Leigh-Ann Goodyear."

"A man under Maddux's command in Red Cell Seven uncovered that information a year ago." Gadanz waved the cigar in the air. "Shane Maddux has provided me with a great deal of pertinent information. Without his help, Operation Anarchy could not possibly have gotten to this stage."

"Maddux figured out how to get to President Dorn."

"When he heard about my ability to access the Ebola virus and use it as a weapon, he told me who to go after. Leigh-Ann Goodyear, Karen Jensen, and the little boy. He had great ideas on how to get to the president and the Jensens." Gadanz paused. "Maddux has also been very helpful with regard to obtaining schedules and agendas. And he's provided me with details I've given you about the security around some of these people and how to get past it. All the information that was in that envelope I gave you in Peru."

"When did Maddux approach you?" Sterling asked.

"Back in January. We've been planning this for eight months."

"Why the Jensens? Why are they targets?"

"Maddux hates them as well, though not as much as Dorn. He doesn't believe the Jensens are as committed to protecting the United States as he is. He believes they would protect Dorn in the end because it's 'the right thing to do,' even if they don't agree with his politics."

Sterling shook his head. "So one of the highest-ranking officers of the most covert, most successful intelligence cell the United States has ever operated approached the world's most successful drug lord for help?"

"Why is that so shocking?" Gadanz shrugged. "The CIA worked with the Colombians in the late seventies and early eighties to flood the U.S. inner cities with cocaine to try and kill criminals. Does the name Freeway Ricky Ross ring a bell?"

"Sure."

"Ricky Ross was one of the biggest drug dealers in Los Angeles at the time, and he had close ties to the CIA. They worked together until the CIA turned on him. What's so shocking about Shane Maddux coming to me?"

Gadanz was right, Sterling realized. When people really wanted something done, they went to an expert, irrespective of the side of the law that person was on. "Nothing, I suppose," Sterling answered. "But you told me Red Cell Seven was responsible for killing your brother, Jacob. And you're partnering with one of the cell's leaders. How does that square?"

"Sometimes priorities make for strange bedfellows, don't they, Liam?"

For a second, Sterling thought he'd caught an odd gleam in Gadanz's eyes, but he couldn't read it. A billion dollars was getting in the way.

"Like the CIA and Freeway Ricky Ross," Gadanz continued. "My partnership with Maddux is more on a personal level than an inst.i.tutional one, as is my hatred of the people who killed my brother. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Maddux claims Troy Jensen was directly involved with Jacob's death. That Troy was one of the individuals who arrested and a.s.saulted Jacob. I want Troy dead, along with his father and brother. But first I want him to suffer the ultimate dilemma first." Gadanz took a deep breath. "So?" he asked in a leading tone after a few moments. "What is your decision?"

A billion dollars, a billion f.u.c.king dollars, Sterling thought to himself. He gritted his teeth again, harder. Still . . . "I don't know, Daniel."

Gadanz shook his head. "What happened to the man who told me he could execute any mission? Where is that man right now? Because I can a.s.sure you, he's not standing in front of me."

"Is that all?" Sterling asked gruffly, standing up. "Are we through here?"

"No, there's one more thing."

Of course, Sterling thought to himself ruefully. There was always one more thing with Daniel Gadanz. "What is it?"

Gadanz picked up a small gla.s.s vial from the table beside his chair. It was filled with an amber liquid. "Take this," Gadanz ordered. "You're going to need it to earn that billion dollars."

"DON'T GO in to work today," Baxter muttered into the phone. "In fact, don't go in the rest of the week."

"Why not?"

"Just don't. Stay in your house. Don't go out at all. Have your wife go out if you need something."

"We have important business this week, several extremely high-profile cases."

"I don't care. Figure something out. Come down with a convenient case of the flu. Do you hear me?"

"How's it going to look if the chief justice nominee doesn't go in to work his first week after being nominated?"

"A lot better than he would dead," Baxter answered candidly. He could almost hear Espinosa's heart racing at the other end of the line. "I can't tell you any more than that, Henry. Now, do you understand?"

"Yes," Espinosa murmured.

"Good."

Baxter ended the call and eased back into the chair. He'd received the message to warn Espinosa late last night that there was a plot in the works to a.s.sa.s.sinate the nominee. Apparently, there were some very powerful people who were not happy about David Dorn's choice to lead the high court. So unhappy they were willing to kill Espinosa.

Baxter wasn't sure who'd sent the message, but he had a pretty good idea. Maybe Maddux was still working with him after all.

Bottom line: Baxter and Dorn could not lose Henry Espinosa at this point. They'd worked much too hard to get a chief justice in place who could be easily manipulated.

ESPINOSA STARED at the phone lying on the desk of his home study. He'd just wanted to lead the most important court in the land, as he'd dodged the drug pushers on his way to school in East New York. That was all. He'd wanted to do good, and now all that was compromised.

What the h.e.l.l was that phone call from Baxter about? he wondered as he gazed at the same phone that held the video that was slowly but surely driving him crazy. Was Baxter really trying to protect him? Or was he making certain a target stayed in one place and was therefore easier to hit? But that made no sense if, as Espinosa a.s.sumed, Baxter had something to do with Bolger's death.

He stood motionless in the study for a few moments longer, trying to decide.

Finally, he headed for the door. He needed to tell the waiting driver he wouldn't need a ride into Washington today.

STERLING SAT in the driver's seat as the twenty-four a.s.sa.s.sins climbed onto the bus he'd rented in Charles Town thirty minutes ago, after his meeting with Gadanz. They nodded to him in turn as they scaled the steps, just before they turned left to take their seats in the back.

Gadanz would have made a tremendous psychiatrist, Sterling realized as he closed the bus door when the last a.s.sa.s.sin was on board. How could anyone turn down a billion dollars? It wasn't really what you could do with it, he'd finally decided. It was simply being able to say you were a billionaire that mattered.

As important, how could he ignore the challenge Gadanz had thrown down in that motel room at the end of their conversation? Where was that man who could execute any mission? he'd asked smugly. The combination of the carrot and the stick had worked perfectly.

Sterling clenched his jaw. He wasn't about to let that challenge go by unanswered, especially with a billion dollars in the balance-even if his mind was screaming to run away from all this as fast as he could.

But it was too late now. Once again he was fully committed to Operation Anarchy.

CHAPTER 36.

JACK KNELT behind a boulder on the steep, densely forested West Virginia hillside, a quarter-mile west of the Virginia border, and peered down through the leaves and underbrush at Route 340, which was only twenty yards away. At this point 340 hugged the Potomac's south sh.o.r.e as the river pa.s.sed the White Horse Rapids, which were less than a mile downstream from Harpers Ferry.

The winding road was by far the most direct route from Harpers Ferry to Washington, DC. That had been of paramount importance to Troy as they'd studied maps of the area on the trip down, though he wouldn't explain why.

They'd driven here from New Jersey through the dawn hours, stopping only to refuel and drop off Little Jack with a friend of Cheryl's who'd met them at an exit on the north side of the Capital Beltway. The woman had asked no questions. She'd just taken the boy and taken off, and that was that. Jack wished so much they could have dropped Karen off, too.

He shut his eyes and exhaled heavily, hoping he'd awaken from this nightmare. Troy was convinced they'd find Karen. At least, that's what he'd said several times on the way here. He'd sounded sincere, too, and he knew his brother well enough to know when he was overselling.

Still, Jack wasn't anywhere near as sure. He had an awful, haunting suspicion he'd never see Karen again.

Troy was a hundred yards east of this position, making certain the roadblock was set up on 340. It was to be manned by a combined task force of West Virginia and Virginia state troopers who'd been told some, though not all, of what was going on, according to Troy, who was playing everything very close to the vest. Troy said he wasn't going to show himself to law enforcement on his recon hike. He was going to stay up in the woods while he made sure the cops were in place. But again, he wouldn't explain why.

Jack had no idea how the roadblock had happened, who Troy had contacted, or what had been conveyed to make it happen, and he didn't care. He just wanted to get back to finding Karen.

Finding her by himself was a long shot at best. He had a much better chance of finding her and finding her fast if Troy was with him, because Troy was trained and skilled in these kinds of operations. But Troy had made it clear on the drive from New Jersey that stopping the Aussie in Harpers Ferry was more important than anything else-even finding Karen-which had angered Jack so much he'd almost gone at his brother physically.

What could possibly be more important than finding Karen, he'd demanded. What was the Aussie doing that had them ignoring Karen? Troy wouldn't say-another thing that had infuriated Jack.

But Troy's mind was made up. They were going to Harpers Ferry, and there would be no changing his mind.

Jack just wanted to hold Karen again. To whisper in her ear that everything was all right as he cradled her in his arms.

He clenched his jaw and shook his head. He'd failed her in New Jersey. He'd been so close to catching that Explorer on the dirt road. But the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who was driving had escaped.

As he crouched behind the boulder and stared down at the road, a strange feeling began to creep up Jack's spine. Perhaps it was the raw, misty rain that had begun to fall on the Appalachian Mountains that was causing the eerie sensation to seep through him-the temperature had plummeted fifteen degrees overnight-but he didn't think so.

As he rose up and whipped around, he reached for the pistol in his belt. But that seemed pointless as he quickly counted from left to right. He was face-to-face with ten individuals-all clad in black sweatshirts and camouflage pants-who'd snuck down the hillside soundlessly and were spread out before him in a tight line. Out in front of the formation was an attractive young woman with her dark hair pulled back behind her head.

Ten of them, but still, he had to try something. They didn't look like allies.

"No."

A hand clamped down tightly on his wrist as he went for the gun.

"They're friends."

"What the h.e.l.l?" Jack demanded when he realized it was Troy, back from his recon. "What's going on?"

Troy patted Jack on the shoulder, then moved to where the young woman stood. "h.e.l.lo, Commander. It's good to see you."

She nodded as they shook hands. "You, too."

"Meet Commander McCoy," Troy said, as he moved back to where Jack was standing. "She's with us."