Pinning the cop’s murder on Helen Gray had been a stroke of genius, even if he hadn’t been given a choice in the matter. The deputy had rolled up on them too damn quickly. He’d barely gotten to the intersection in time to keep the officer from spotting the van and the pickup truck, and possibly calling it in. Rudd’s fake FBI credentials had gotten him to stop before he’d driven far enough into the intersection to see the other vehicles. He’d been especially thankful that Helen Gray had left a few rounds in her pistol’s magazine.
If he’d been forced to use his own pistol, an astute forensics team might have cast some doubt on the initial conclusion drawn by the Tennessee State Police investigators, which might have prolonged or even deepened the FBI’s involvement. Never a good thing when you were nearing retirement.
Rudd stayed just below the speed limit as he left the neighborhood, giving nobody a reason to look twice in his direction. When he reached Broad Street, he took a right and made his way toward the rental car office. Before they dispersed to stake out the coffee shops, he’d send his wife through with the rental car to make her own assessment.
She was at least twice as observant and would undoubtedly notice something important that he had missed. Like a sticker on the other side of the Jeep’s bumper that read, PROUD PARENTS OF A UNITED STATES MARINE. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing? Awkwardly, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d glossed over something that had completely changed the game. He just hoped it was the last, and that CONTROL sent them home to Tennessee after this job to pack up for another part of the country or Moscow. He’d be fine either way—as long as he was still with Jolene. Or would she want to be called Ludmilla again? He was getting ahead of himself.
CHAPTER 17
Devin left Berg alone for a few hours while he headed out to grab some essentials at a nearby Walmart and dinner from a Thai restaurant about a mile north on Greenmount Avenue. Paper goods, a case of bottled water, two full-size air mattresses, two cheap sleeping bags, and an assortment of toiletries—mostly for himself. Berg had brought an overnight bag, an idea that hadn’t crossed Devin’s mind when he’d set off on Helen’s treasure hunt yesterday morning.
Berg had already started arranging the take-out containers when he dropped the last of the Walmart bags inside the apartment. Devin shut and locked the door, breathing heavily from the back-to-back stair climbs. He wiped the thin film of sweat off his face on his shirtsleeve, suddenly remembering that he’d forgotten to buy a few changes of clothes. Tomorrow. He wouldn’t have any trouble sleeping at this point, no matter how grimy he felt.
“Looks like enough food to last us several days,” said Berg.
“I figured we’d be locked in here for a while,” said Devin, heading for the refrigerator. “Drink?”
“A beer and a couple of those waters if you don’t mind,” said Berg. “I wasn’t sure about drinking from the tap.”
“I was more concerned about the grimy glasses in the cabinet,” said Devin. “I bought some paper cups.”
Berg laughed and shook his head. “Your mom has a hundred thousand dollars sitting in a five-thousand-dollar safe, and we’re afraid to drink the water from her apartment. The world is a strange place, my friend.”
Devin took a seat at the table without washing his hands. He was too tired for basic hygiene at this point. Berg set a can of Joint Resolution Hazy IPA in front of him and sat down across the table from him before cracking open his own beer. Devin followed suit and toasted Helen.
“So. After spending nearly a day in Helen’s mind—what do you think now?” asked Devin.
“I think we have a nightmare on our hands. I kept searching and searching for that one piece of evidence or link that brought the whole wall down. A fatal flaw that I could point to and say, ‘Dammit, Helen! This is where you went off the rails!’ But I couldn’t find it. On top of that, this is even worse than she thought.”
With Berg’s last comment, Devin finished the can and got up. “Can I grab you another?”
“May as well,” said Berg. “This one will be gone soon.”
Devin returned with the rest of the six-pack, placing it on the table before pulling a can free from the plastic binding.
“How does it get worse than a sleeper network penetrating nearly every level of government, the military, law enforcement, and industry?” asked Devin.
“Try tanking our economy, kneecapping our military, and eroding our allies’ trust in us to the point of hostility,” said Berg. “Israel almost broke off diplomatic relations with us over the Iron Dome failure. Antheon’s stock dropped by half overnight, and now their SM-3 antiballistic missile program is under scrutiny. That puts several of our allies in an awkward position, since they rely on those missiles for protection from ballistic missile threats. Not to mention what they did to Boeing, Lockram Industries, and Ampere, if we’re to assume that the Russian sleeper network penetrated those companies and sabotaged their flagship projects.”