Page 68 of Code Name: Ember
“It’s with my editor,” I say, which is a lie.I’d never let the evidence out of my protection.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” he says, his tone almost amused.“Where’s the flash drive?I know Erik downloaded information from our server and we know he handed it to you in the garage.”
“Because you have dirty cops on the payroll,” I snap irritably.
He studies me with a patient expression, clearly knowing I’m not telling him everything.“Ms.Ward.I’m going to be direct with you.What you’ve uncovered represents a significant financial and legal liability for people who have a great deal of resources and very little patience for loose ends.”He sets the glass down.“You’ve seen what happens to loose ends.”
I visualize Erik’s body in the parking garage, still and silent under the flickering fluorescent lights.
“We’re in a public restaurant,” I say, my chin lifted with false bravado.“I doubt you’re going to eliminate me right here.”
“You are correct,” he agrees.“And you’re welcome to stay in it and call for help.Or you can stand up right now, walk out that door, and catch a ride back to your cohorts at Jameson Force Security.”He lets that sit for a moment.“But before you do, I thought you should see something.”
Schwartz slides his phone across the table and a photograph fills the screen.
Cole.
He’s on a sidewalk and it’s from today.I can tell from his clothes.I recognize the federal building in the background as he’s walking toward it.
My throat tightens.
“Mr.Mercer is safely inside that building right now, presumably meeting with the FBI to discuss this case.At some point, he will exit that building.He might make it back safely to Jameson, or he might take a bullet to the head as soon as he steps out.That is all within your power to decide.”
Ice floods my veins and my heart nearly stops.“You’re bluffing,” I say, and I’m proud of how level my voice is.
“Perhaps,” he says.“Are you willing to find out?”
I stare at the photograph.“And what exactly is it you want?”I ask, my brain spinning hard.Would they really kill him?Does it matter?Because the possibility of that is enough leverage over me to get whatever they want.
“I want you to come with me,” Schwartz says.“Have a longer conversation somewhere more private.Answer a few questions.And then we’ll see where we are.”
“And if I say no?”
He looks at the photograph, then back at me.“Then you say no,” he says simply.“And you find out whether I’m bluffing.”
I glance around at all the unsuspecting patrons that have no clue a killer is in their midst.A server laughs near the bar, and it all seems so normal.
I think about Cole at his FBI meeting, phone on silent, completely unaware.I think about Josie at her desk running three simultaneous investigations.I think about Malik in his two o’clock meeting, and Reid, and the building I walked out of twenty minutes ago because I couldn’t bear to sit still for one more hour.I think about Erik Lanning not running when he should have.I think about the photograph before me.
No one knows I’m here, which means no one is coming.Which means the only person who can protect Cole right now is me.
“If you hurt him,” I say quietly, meeting Schwartz’s eyes directly, “I will burn everything down.Evidence to every major outlet simultaneously.Every thread, every document, every name.I will make sure there is nowhere left to hide.”
It’s a lame threat because he and I both know, once I leave with him, chances of me surviving this are incredibly low.I’m the linchpin right now in this whole case, and without me, nothing survives.But Cole might have a chance… if Schwartz is telling me the truth that he’ll leave him be.All I can hope for is that I am able to talk my way around these people, possibly convince them I’m better off alive than dead, but how… I don’t know yet.
“You have my assurances that Mr.Mercer will be left unharmed.We don’t like unnecessary messes if they can be avoided.”
“Fine.Let’s go.”I stand up and he follows.I trail him out of the restaurant into the warm afternoon air, the door swinging shut behind us.
A car waits at the curb.Black.Tinted windows.Schwartz opens the rear door and I slide in, him following right behind.There’s a young man driving, early twenties, but he doesn’t look back at me.He has clear directives apparently because he immediately merges into traffic.
For the longest time, nobody speaks and I watch the city blur by, noting our direction of travel is northeast on SR 522.
The silence is broken by the driver, who glances briefly over his shoulder.“Sir… did you make sure she has nothing that can be tracked?”
Schwartz pales slightly.“Um… no… what do I do?”
“Dump it all,” the driver advises.“Phone, jewelry, purse.”
