The Detachment - Barry Eisler [110]
Again, he didn’t answer.
“Look,” I said, “do what you want. But you have to stop running so hot. It’s making Dox jumpy, and it’s starting to make me jumpy. If I can help, let me help, but either way, we all need you cool. I need you cool. Like you usually are. Okay?”
After a long moment, he nodded. “Okay.”
We went out and returned to waiting. No one waved any more guns. I was going to have to do something about Larison, and I didn’t know what. Shake him? Shoot him? How could I get through to him? I thought, if I ever work with a team again, just kill me, and then had to stifle a crazy laugh because, with this team, that was exactly the problem.
At nearly one in the morning, there was a soft knock at the door. All of us stood, save Kei, who still had one wrist flex-tied to a bedpost. All the guns came out again. Larison was looking at Kei; Dox was looking at Larison. I checked the peephole. It was Treven.
“Easy,” I said to Larison and Dox. “It’s him.”
I opened the door and Treven came in. He was holding a gym bag. That was encouraging. I locked the door behind him.
“You get the diamonds?” Larison said.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Don’t brief us yet.” I gestured to Kei. “Dox, could you put the headphones on her?”
We’d picked up a pair of over-the-ear headphones and a radio so we could talk in her presence without being overheard. Dox put the headphones on himself, adjusted the radio volume to his satisfaction, and then slipped the headphones onto Kei’s head and over her ears. She bore it well, her expression neutral but not blank; her posture, resigned but not beaten.
“Right here,” Treven said, holding up the bag.
Larison nodded. I didn’t like how eager he looked. “Did you do him?” he said.
There was a pause. Treven said, “No.”
Larison’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“I’m not going to lie to you,” Treven said. “I could have. But based on what he told me, I think it would have been a mistake to do it right now.”
“Goddamn it,” Larison said, “Hort always has a line of shit. Always. When the hell are you going to figure that out?”
Treven looked at him. “You know,” he said, “I’m getting a little tired of you.”
I thought, Christ, here we go again.
“Listen,” I said, in my best command voice. “We’re all a little strung out. You’re professionals, you know the signs and you know the causes. We’ve been going balls-out for a week now, Las Vegas to Vienna, back to the East Coast, gun fights, three days non-stop driving in a portable sauna all the way to California, worrying about satellites and drones and however the hell Horton tracked us in D.C….no privacy, no breaks, and barely any sleep. It’s amazing we haven’t killed each other yet. But let’s not kill each other now, okay? We need to dial it down. Or we’re all going to die.”
No one spoke. Either the moment had passed, or Dox was going to have to do another movie impression. Or we were all going to shoot each other. One of the three, anyway.
Finally, Larison said, “What did he say?”
Treven looked at me and said, “You were right about the schools.”
We all listened quietly while he briefed us. When he was done, Larison said, “You can’t really believe him. Don’t you see what he’s doing?”
I looked at Treven. “He told you where and when the school attack is supposed to go down?”
Treven nodded. “Lincoln, Nebraska. Smack in the middle of the country. Three days from now, on the first day back from summer vacation. Some kind of back-to-school assembly that morning in the auditorium, apparently. This guy Gillmor is running a team of four guys. Hort says they’re going to show up with machine pistols and just hose the room down. Nothing fancy, not a lot of logistics, just pure horror and destruction tailor-made for cable news.”
“Exactly,” Larison said. “It’s another setup. We’re supposed to show up with our hair on fire exactly when and where Hort tells us to. This time, he’ll have snipers positioned in vehicles all around the school. He fixes us, finishes us, goes home and has a beer.”
“There’s one more thing,” Treven said.