Leila Nahum sat at her desk, which was covered in equipment and scraps of paper. She had been staring at her laptop for the past two minutes, wondering what to do with the secrets it had revealed.
She’d slept for a little over an hour before inspiration had struck and she’d accessed the Seattle Police Department network to run a search of the arrest records of the two police officers she’d killed.
Her hunch had been rewarded with a five-year-old arrest report for Eddie and Kirsty Fletcher, the leaders of a motorcycle gang that had once been known as the Reapers, but which had become part of an outfit called the Red Wolves a few years ago. The husband and wife duo had been arrested on suspicion of supplying opiates. Jared Lowe and Dean Ollander had assisted on the arrest, which had been led by Detective Evan Hill. Eddie and Kirsty’s mugshots and distinguishing marks matched the description of the people Pearce had seen in the van outside the community centre. Leila had checked the other officers Hill had worked with and had identified the three men Clifton had shot, and the four cops who’d turned up as she and Wollerton had followed the former NSA director to freedom.
She had been staring at the information, trying to figure out what to do. Detective Evan Hill appeared to be running a crew of corrupt cops, but that wasn’t what was fazing her. It was the photos he’d shown her of the day Artem Vasylyk had died. How could she tell Pearce there might be a link between the Red Wolves and Black Thirteen without confessing her role in the Ukrainian billionaire’s death?
A knock at the door robbed Leila of any further opportunity to procrastinate. She closed her laptop and got to her feet, leaning on the cheap motel furniture as she shuffled across the room. She picked up the pistol she’d placed on the windowsill and opened the door to find Pearce fully dressed.
‘Did I wake you?’ he asked.
She shook her head.
‘I’m going to the airport. Brigitte Attali’s here.’
Leila was surprised. ‘It could be a trap.’
‘At an airport? Not a good place for guns. You know that.’
‘What about an airborne toxin?’ Leila asked.
Pearce hesitated. ‘She says she knows why they’re doing this. I’ve got to take the risk.’
‘OK,’ Leila nodded. ‘But if you’re going to be dumb enough to walk into a trap, I’m dumb enough to come with you.’
‘She said I should come alone.’
‘I’ll stay out of your way,’ Leila said.
Pearce smiled wryly. ‘And if I refuse?’
‘I’ll get Wollerton,’ Leila replied. ‘I’m sure he’d want to come.’
Pearce pursed his lips.
‘It’ll give us a chance to talk,’ Leila said, reaching for her collapsible cane. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’