The Book of Fate - Brad Meltzer [62]
I look up from my seat. At the edge of the table, Lisbeth’s right leg swings slightly. She knows she’s got a point.
“And we can trust you on that?” I ask. “You’ll stay quiet until it’s over?”
Her leg stops swinging. “Wes, the only reason you know Woodward and Bernstein is because they had the ending . . . not just the first hit. Only a fool wouldn’t stick with you till we get all the answers.”
I’ve been burned by reporters. I don’t like reporters. And I certainly don’t like Lisbeth. But as I glance over at Dreidel, who’s finally fallen silent, it’s clear we’re out of options. If we don’t work with her, she’ll take this whole shitstorm public and unleash it in a way that we’ll never be able to take back. If we do work with her, at least we buy some time to figure out what’s really going on. I give another look to Dreidel. From the way he pinches the bridge of his nose, we’ve already stepped on the land mine. The only question now is, how long until we hear the big—?
“Nobody move!” a deep voice yells as the door whips into the wall and half a dozen suit-and-tie Secret Service agents flood the room, guns drawn.
“Let’s go!” a beefy agent with a thin yellow tie says as he grabs Dreidel by the shoulder and shoves him toward the door. “Out. Now!”
“Get off me!”
“You too!” another says to Lisbeth as she follows right behind. “Go!”
The rest of the agents swarm inside, but to my surprise, run right past me, fanning out in onion-peel formation as they circle through the room. This isn’t an attack; it’s a sweep.
The only thing that’s odd is none of these guys look familiar. I know everyone on our detail. Maybe we got a bomb threat and they called in local—
“Both of you, move!” the yellow-tie agent barks at Dreidel and Lisbeth. I assume he doesn’t see me—Lisbeth’s still in front of me near the table, but as I shoot out of my seat and follow them toward the door, I feel a sharp tug on the back of my jacket.
“Hey, what’re you—?”
“You’re with me,” Yellow Tie insists, yanking me backward as my tie digs into my neck. With a hard shove to the left, he sends me stumbling toward the far corner of the room. We’re moving so fast, I can barely keep my balance.
“Wes!” Lisbeth calls out.
“He’s fine,” an agent with bad acne insists, grabbing her elbow and tugging her to the door. He says something else to her, but I can’t hear it.
Looking back to me over her shoulder, Lisbeth is still off balance as she staggers toward the doorway’s white rectangle of light. With one last wrench, she disappears. When the first agent grabbed her, she was pissed. But now . . . the last look I see before the door slams behind her . . . the way her eyes go wide . . . whatever the agent said to her, she’s terrified.
“Let go—I’m a friendly!” I insist, fighting to get to my ID.
Yellow Tie doesn’t care. “Keep moving!” he tells me, practically holding me up by my collar. The last time the Service moved this fast was when Boyle was— No. I stop myself, refusing to replay it. Don’t panic. Get the facts.
“Is Manning okay?” I ask.
“Just move!” he insists as we rush toward the corner of the room, where I spot a carpeted, almost hidden door.
“C’mon!” Yellow Tie says, undoing a latch and ramming me into the door to shove it open. Unlike the door that Lisbeth and Dreidel went through, this one doesn’t dump us in the lobby. The ceiling rises up, and the concrete hallway is gray and narrow. Loose wires, grimy fire extinguishers, and some random white pipes are the only things on the walls. Maintenance corridor from the ammonia smell of it.
I try to break free, but we’re moving too fast. “If you don’t tell me where the hell we’re going, I’ll personally make sure you’re—”
“Here,” Yellow Tie says, stopping at the first door on my right. A red and white sign reads Storage Only. He reaches the door with his free hand, revealing a room that’s bigger than my office.