Chapter 25

TWENTY-FIVE

F leeing the scene via the bathroom window seemed to be her MO these days.

There was no way she was staying in Command Central.

Using the excuse of needing to use the ladies’ room, Emma had lifted a set of keys from Brigit’s coat when the woman wasn’t looking.

She might not be a jewel thief, but she’d had excellent instructors and had picked a pocket or two in her younger days. Now, she climbed onto the disgusting yellowing countertop in the restroom and shoved the window open.

Her still-sore ankle twisted when she hit the ground, but she sucked in the grunt that threatened to escape. Pausing for a second to listen, she was relieved when she heard no sounds of pursuit. What were the odds she could get that fancy Cadillac out of the parking lot before the others realized she was gone?

She was counting on them being so focused on what was going on in the other parts of the city that she could get a decent head start. It wasn't as though she was running away; she was simply inserting herself on the sidelines while they proceeded with Truman’s plan. She wasn't going to be miles away when he finally rescued her father—she was going to be there for both of them.

The Caddy sat behind the club twenty feet away from a dumpster. Emma used that for a bit of cover, stopping to listen for sounds she was being followed. None came.

At the fancy car, she slid behind the wheel and pushed the start button. The engine hummed to life. She hurriedly adjusted the seat and mirrors because Brigit was shorter than she was.

Heart hammering, she didn’t bother with the GPS—she knew the route to the used car lot and Gani's building.

Keeping an eye on the rear exit, she eased onto the road. She was about to see her dad. About to help put the Mastermind away.

Just don’t get caught .

And don’t let them stop you .

When she hit the main road, she floored it.

Five minutes later

“The White Rabbit went down the hole,” Conrad informed Truman. “She’s hit a traffic jam due to an accident. Cars are backed up for a mile already. Won’t be at your location for at least thirty to forty minutes.”

Damn woman. Of course she’d snuck off and was making her way to him.

Beside him in the rear of the van, Spence grinned as if Truman deserved such a saucy, sassy, stubborn woman.

He probably did. “Which vehicle is she in?"

"The Cadillac.” That surprised him. He figured she'd go for Del's beat-up Honda Accord. Cadillacs weren't her style. "You've got eyes on her?"

"Yup." Flynn sounded about as enthusiastic over following Emma as he would if he had to clean a toilet. "Just for the record, this is a bad idea, rookie."

Rookie? Spence snorted, and Truman forced himself not to flip him off or to hang up on Flynn. Both were cocky SOBs, but as long as Flynn kept tabs on Emma, Truman would ignore the attitude. It wasn't every day that someone as high up as the director of Operations had to come out of his gilded office at Langley to participate in this sort of op.

Truman suspected Flynn would have said no if it weren't for Julia. The man loved his wife, just as Michael did Brigit, and would do anything for her. He'd complain plenty about it, but he'd still do it.

They could all get into hot water with the Feds, depending on how this went down. He would take as much of the blame as he could—he just hoped he could keep Emma free from jail, even if he was the one who ended up behind bars.

"She was going to try and escape, no matter what you did,” Truman told Flynn. “You would do the same in her shoes. We all would. This way, we keep her as shielded as possible while allowing her to feel like she's part of the solution."

The man grunted, and it sounded sort of like he agreed but wasn’t about to admit it. He’d gone rogue a few years ago, after all, and was standing on shaky ground when it came to passing judgment on Truman. “How very diplomatic of you."

Truman sensed there was more to the reprimand. “I won't let anything happen to Julia." He figured that was the real reason Flynn was annoyed.

"She can take care of herself," he replied, “But it appears I'll be there to make sure of that."

The connection went dead.

"How can you work for him?" Truman asked Spence as they resumed their surveillance of the used car lot.

Spence chuckled, rocking in the cushy chair at the center panel of screens and equipment. "He grows on you after a while, kind of like Lanny."

Dolan, who happened to be listening as he followed Bastian from his now water-logged condo, told the two of them what they could do to themselves. Then, “Heist Zero, this is Charlie Rescue Two. Target is stuck in traffic,” he reported. “He will be delayed. Over.”

That was one scenario Truman hadn’t considered.

Stone had reported that Pearson thought the information on the USB was a farce and was resistant to getting a search warrant for Bastian’s residence. Stone was now on his way with the ASAC to this location—all the main players coming together.

But if Bastian was stuck in traffic…

How would Truman convince him to lay low and wait?

“Copy that, Charlie Rescue Two,” he said to Dolan. “Estimated arrival time?”

“Forty minutes. Maybe less.”

Damn.

The only good thing was that Emma and Bastian were coming at them from two separate directions; they wouldn’t cross paths.

“Hold tight, everyone,” Truman said. “Stay alert.”

A chorus of replies came back.

“She better not wreck my car,” Brigit piped in. “Michael bought that for me.”

Truman consoled himself that at least he’d gotten her ring back. He texted Stone and told him about the delay. Neither Stone nor Pearson were going to like it.

He flipped a few switches. “What about the security cameras at Murphy’s?” he asked Del one-to-one. "Can you hack them?”

“It’s a closed system, and I'm not sure it's actually active," the man said. “I think it's just there for show, as is the ADT badge in the front window.”

It made sense in this part of town, where sales were infrequent, but robberies were commonplace. “So it's not Bastian’s?”

"Hard to tell without putting eyes directly on it," Del said. "I can't hack into a system like that, though, whether it's active or not.”

If Bastian had installed it to keep an eye on the place, it would have internet access. Truman considered breaching the building since Bastian most likely wouldn't know. However, changing that part of the plan on the spur of the moment could make a lot of difference in the outcome. Better to sit tight.

Thirty-three minutes later, Dolan spoke. “Heist Zero, this is Charlie Rescue Two. The Mad Hatter has left the interstate. Headed your way. Over.”

Truman hit the timer on his phone. “Copy that, CRTwo. Five minutes and counting,” he told the team. "Be ready."

Emma and Flynn were still caught in the snarl of vehicles backed up for miles by the collision. Even if everything cleared out right now, it would take her seven minutes to get there. If all went according to plan, this would be over and done before she even arrived.

While they waited for Bastian, he made everyone verbalize their assigned moves so that each was alert and ready to go once the man’s car pulled in. He still hadn't received a reply from Stone and hoped the FBI wasn't about to descend on them before he got the proof he needed regarding his mentor.

Former mentor, he corrected himself.

His phone beeped with an incoming text. Finally.

But it wasn't from Stone.

Emma: I can't believe you did that to me.

Truman: I thought you were okay with it .

Emma: I lied .

Truman: I know. How’s traffic?

He swore he could hear her growl of frustration through the phone.

Emma: They told you I ran .

Truman: I knew you would .

He definitely heard her swear even though she was miles away.

Emma: Is the Viper following me?

Truman: The Viper?

Emma: The grumpy-faced guy.

He chuckled. It wasn’t a half-bad nickname for Flynn.

Truman: He is indeed. Watch out, he bites.

Emma: He’s the one who better watch out. I’ve had about all the overbearing alpha males I can handle for one day .

Truman: I feel called out .

Emma: Traffic is moving. I’ll be there shortly .

Truman: Stay at least three blocks away .

Emma: Are you going to blow Bastian up ?

Truman: I’m going to demolish him but not with explosives .

At least not the kind she was thinking of.

Emma: Go get him, tiger . Rawr .

He sent back a tiger emoji.

“Fuck me,” Spence said. “You’re in love.”

“What?” Truman snorted, pocketing the phone.

“It’s all over your face.”

“Is not.”

“You’re smiling like you just won the relationship lottery.”

“He did,” Dolan said through their earpieces. “Wanker.”

“Boys,” Julia interrupted. “We’ve got company.”

The older model Lexus drove by once, twice, three times. Bastian was overly cautious by nature, but he suspected the fire alarm and sprinkler party were not an accident.

Good. Truman’s plan was already working.

Seeing nothing out of place, however, he parked behind the car lot building.

“Hatter moving in,” Truman said to all those listening. “CRTwo, state your location.”

“Here,” he said. A second later, he skulked low across the cracked concrete. Spence slid the side panel door open and Dolan joined them. He took the third chair and began reviewing the monitors. “Ready when you are.”

“Everyone hold position,” Truman instructed. “Let’s listen in.”

His parabolic mic was at the outer limits of its ability to capture what Bastian might say, but he was counting on it being enough. Dolan had told him that he’d amped it up, and although they were hidden across the street behind a skid loader that hadn’t been moved in years, getting closer was a possibility should they need it. There were random lawnmowers, tires, and shelled-out car skeletons, suggesting someone had been running a chop shop or at least dumping their unwanted leftovers here. It was an ugly mess but provided decent cover.

“Charlie, my boy.” Bastian’s voice came in with a bit of static. “Change of plans, I’m afraid.”

“Charlie Rescue Z,” Truman said to Zara. “Time for the decoy.”

“On it,” she replied.

She came around the corner in the Audi at high speed, tires screeching, and drove into Gani's parking lot. Keeping her back to Murphy’s windows, she stomped toward the movie rental place, a reasonable facsimile of Emma.

“What do we have here?” Bastian asked. “Looks like your daughter’s early. She never was the patient type, was she? Just like her mother.”

“Mastermind!” Zara flung open the broken glass door, yelling at the top of her lungs as she entered. “Give me my father!”

There was a click, and Zara said, “shit,” right before the building exploded.