The Prisoner - Carlos J. Cortes [106]
Silence.
Nikola sighed. “We made a gross mistake in keeping the escape under wraps. In retrospect, it’s obvious that the linchpin of their plan was our predictability. They wagered we would keep the lid down and we fell for it.”
“Why do you keep using the plural? It was your call.”
“No, it wasn’t. You insisted the damage had to be contained.”
“Would you have acted differently if I hadn’t demanded discretion?”
“I wouldn’t; that’s why I use the plural. But it was a mistake; it limited our resources and the scope of our response. In an all-out hunt, we would have drawn in the police and the army. After sealing the city and flushing the sewers, these bastards would have been history.”
“Inside job?”
“You mean the government?”
She nodded.
“It would seem likely. At least, someone very high up.”
“What would you do?”
Her choice of pronoun was telling. You, not we. Nikola sighed, his resolve strengthening. “Everything hinges on Russo. Is he alive? Is he coherent? The stakes are too high to ignore the possibility, however remote, that the answer to one or both questions could be yes. Without an insider’s help, your chances of impeding eventual disclosure are almost nil.” He raised a hand to forestall her comment. “I know you can probably cover your tracks as if nothing ever happened, or at least try to.”
“Do you?”
“I don’t know the details, but it’s a matter of respect.” Or the lack of it. That was the crux of the issue. “I would have made sure I could, and I have no reason to doubt you’ve not considered the eventuality.”
“You mentioned insider’s help.”
That Odelle still kept part of her brain, regardless of her drowning thrashes, gave Nikola a glimmer of hope that she would remain predictable. “By elimination, your possible sources are limited to one. Forget about the idealistically committed; you can’t bribe them. But there are a few mercenaries involved, and a large chunk of money may sway their loyalty. Among the hired help, there’s someone with a face and name: Lukas Hurley. I doubt you can tempt him with money. If he’s dead, he doesn’t need it, and if not, he has too much already. But his honeypot is another matter. The fool joined the fray to bankroll a future with his Peruvian princess.” He darted a glance at his timepiece, nodded once, and stepped toward the door. “I have a flight to catch. Can we meet this evening? I will have most of the information you’re seeking by then.”
She stared at him fixedly before pursing her lips and nodding. “Nine o’clock. Can you make it then?”
“I’ll try.”
chapter 36
09:51
Adaptation, a trait shared by the San and Inuit alike, underlies success in otherwise harrowing environments. After a nap on his way to the Air Force base, a simple breakfast of cereal, juice, and tea while he waited for the pilot to ready his machine, a short flight from Washington to Chicago, and a pleasant drive to Kenosha—across the state border in Wisconsin—Nikola felt ready to tackle his next call.
Running the DNA of everyone involved in the Washington, D.C., sugar-cube fiasco through the federal database would have saved him many hours of painstakingly collating details and reading files, but it wouldn’t have solved the riddle. It was now clear what the connection was between Laurel, Eliot Russo, and Araceli Goldberg. Yet the mystery remained, and Araceli’s past was a good next place to search.
After collecting his rented car from the airport—an almost-new Kioshi Matador—Nikola drove north on Route 45 to Miner Street and then took 94 past Skokie Boulevard to the coastal road bordering Lake Michigan. Soon, the smoke of chimneys from another era, stretched and torn against a gray sky, became part of the fleecy canopy that hung over the lake and the fields.
Martha