Pearce was in his room at the New La Hacienda Motel, where he was using a cell phone he’d purchased from a twenty-four-hour convenience store on Lucille Street to call Seattle hospitals to see whether they’d admitted anyone matching Leila’s description. He was part way through a call when he heard movement outside and hung up. He grabbed a Glock G19 from an open flight case and moved to the door. He crept behind it as it opened, the street lamp in the car park casting the intruder’s shadow into the room. Pearce recognized it immediately.
‘Lyly,’ he said, startling Leila as he stepped out from behind the door.
Kyle Wollerton and Robert Clifton were with her.
‘Come in,’ Pearce told them, and once they were inside, he greeted Wollerton warmly. ‘Glad you made it out. What happened?’
Wollerton gave Clifton a cagey glance.
‘Really?’ Clifton challenged. ‘You think you can’t trust me after what I just did?’
‘What did he just do?’ Pearce asked.
‘Got us out of a jam,’ Wollerton replied.
Leila looked exhausted as she hobbled over to the desk and sat in the chair. ‘We need a proper debrief,’ she said, picking up a pad and pen. ‘We’ve each got pieces of this. Let’s see if we can put the puzzle together.’