It was obvious from her questions to John and Kanezaki that she was worried about Dox. The two of them had done a nice job of deflecting, but still, what if she didn’t buy John’s story about having to move? Twice Dox considered abandoning the teahouse and going in on foot. But that might have put him out of position at just the moment the high ground would be most important.
And the woman was devious, too. There had been a pause between when she agreed to move to wherever Grimble’s passcode was supposedly stored and when she started issuing instructions about how they had to walk with their hands up and all that. Dox had a feeling she’d muted the mic she took from Delilah while telling the team to remove their commo gear. Maybe she thought Dox would break radio silence and try to reach out to someone.
Oh, I’m going to reach out, all right. You can count on that.
But were they really moving, or was that more tactical deception? Well, he’d know one way or the other in just a few seconds. He breathed slowly and easily, his heart beating just a little faster than normal, watching the clearing just north of the trees through the reticles of the scope.
And then he heard it. A helicopter. Not passing overhead, but coming in fast. He looked, and saw an MD500E, small and quiet, black with no markings.
Black helicopters, he thought. You’ve got to be kidding me.
It landed in the clearing. The driver cut the engine and immediately the rotors began to slow. The cockpit glass was smoked, and even through the Leupold scope Dox couldn’t make out the faces of the people inside. Then the pilot got out. Dox recognized him—a former Marine and current SOG guy named Dutch. Rispel’s ride? he thought.
And then the passenger got out. And Dox was looking at none other than Director of National Intelligence Pierce Devereaux. Devereaux and Dutch immediately started walking toward the trees, beyond which were Rispel and the rest of them.
Dox put the reticles on Devereaux’s right temple and his finger caressed the trigger. Devereaux was likely the top-level source of what they were up against. The head of the snake, so to speak. Take him out, and their problems could be solved, or at least substantially mitigated.
But Manus had made a good case back at the Motel 6 that Rispel might have been running her own game. If so, dropping Devereaux could improve her position more than it did the team’s. Besides which, if Dox killed Devereaux now, Rispel and company would know there was a sniper in play.
There was risk either way. But the main thing was, killing Devereaux would do nothing to get Labee and the gang out of immediate jeopardy. And would likely make their jeopardy worse.
He blew out a long, steady breath. A moment later, Devereaux and Dutch had disappeared behind the trees. And Dox was waiting again, hoping he had made the right call.
chapter
eighty-two
RISPEL
Rispel watched in shock as first Dutch and then Devereaux got out of the helicopter and started walking briskly toward her. The two of them here could mean only one thing.
She turned and glanced at her men. “Wait.”
Everyone stopped. She turned back toward Devereaux and Dutch, dipped her hand into her coat pocket, and closed her fingers around the butt of her P229 Legion Compact.
The two of them stopped a few feet away. She eyed them coolly and said, “What are you doing here, Pierce?”
He glanced behind her, assessing her team, the prisoners, and probably the odd sight of Grimble in his red, pleated robe.
“I’m taking over this op,” he called out loudly. Not to her, obviously, but to her men.
She couldn’t believe the gall. “The hell you are, you insufferable worm.”
He looked at her. “I’m ordering you, Lisa. Stand down.”
“I know it’s you in the videos, Pierce. Not the president. You. And Hobbs, too, yes?”