The Prisoner - Carlos J. Cortes [63]
“Naturally, that would only be Act One.” Nikola was becoming weary of the conversation. Perhaps Odelle needed a pick-me-up. “Act Two’s script would depend on what shape Russo was in. Carpenter would deliver a revived Russo to whoever has orchestrated his escape, either as a vegetable or a very pissed-off man.”
Still silence.
“As for the grand finale, your guess is as good as mine.” Nikola frowned at the box with bunches of wires in front of Dennis.
“That’s theory. Where are they now?”
Time for disinformation padded with lies and half-truths. “Somewhere in the sewers, running out of time. They can’t keep Russo alive down there indefinitely, so they have to come out. They can’t go home or to relatives or known friends. They have to try to get out of the city. And they can’t; I’ve sealed it.” Though he thought it unlikely, he wasn’t about to tell Odelle that the fugitives could be miles away by now, ensconced on a plush yacht and toasting with Dom Perignon.
“What if they have a safe house in D.C.?”
“In the city? No way. Too crowded. Two to four people and a stretcher? Their safe house, if they have one, must be remote. I doubt they’ve considered medical equipment. With their original plan, they wouldn’t have needed it. Now they do. If Russo pulls through, he will need medical attention for some time.” Nikola paused. Let’s analyze your reaction. “By the way, I’ve had a cursory look at Russo’s file. I feel that a key to this complex—and, I must add, daring—operation must rest with Russo’s identity. Who is Russo?”
“What do you mean?” The voice had flickered.
“His dossier reads like a manual for teenage idealists, but he has done nothing to threaten the establishment or upset the status quo. At least, there’s no mention of anything in his file. Eight years is a tough sentence and, to my knowledge, there’s nothing to hint he would ever be released.”
“Need to know.”
But I do need to know, my dear. “I see. Does that mean Russo is the victim of someone’s personal vendetta?”
The voice thickened. “Russo is anything but a victim.”
Nikola frowned, his resolve strengthened. Rule number one for a criminal investigator was to pose the question of questions: Quo bono? Who benefits from the crime? The issues involved were far too delicate, and dangerous, to fumble about in the darkness. He would make it his priority to unearth Russo’s real history, and that of whoever wanted him rotting in a tank.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nikola spotted a flurry of activity on the screens. Dennis’s right hand came alive, his fingers dancing over the smooth surface of a control pad. Maps superimposed on the central screen, zooming over sections of the city to freeze on a maze of multicolored lines and three throbbing white dots.
“You have them?” Nikola asked.
“What?” the metallic voice croaked overhead.
Nikola shrugged and leaned over to grip Dennis’s arm.
After a moment’s hesitation, Dennis nodded, tapped his earpiece, darted a cursory glance at the overhead speakers, and returned his attention to the console. “Yes, moving south toward Bethesda.” He panned the image.
“Speed?”
“Walking pace.”
“Send squads to Old Georgetown Road, Wisconsin with Montgomery, and Cedar Lane with Rockville Pike. Hem them in.”
On the left screen, a line of text grew as Dennis’s fingers moved over his pad.
“You’ve work to do.” The speaker crackled. “I’ll leave you to it. Keep me posted.”
“Will do.” Nikola waited for the red light to fade, but the line remained open. Now what?
“Just a thought, kid.”
Nikola tensed. Odelle was addressing Dennis.
“You must be proud. Your master has trusted you to eavesdrop on our conversation. Do you play chess? I’m sure you do. I’m also sure you know the Najdorf Variation of the Sicilian Defense: the Poisoned Pawn, a present with a sting on its tail. Your master has gifted you with his trust and, in doing so, ensured you’ll share our tank if this incident is ever made public.”
A wall of foul stench followed the thud of a manhole cover on the asphalt. Sergeant Theresa Corvin looked over the eight figures standing by the