He had dropped his rifle. His Glock was in his right hand. He held it loosely too.

Reel looked at the burning carnage and the dead bodies and then back at Robie.

“Thanks.”

Robie took a few more steps forward and then stopped. He was nearly at level ground, sixty yards from her.

They both knew the same thing.

Twenty more yards of closure and their Glocks would easily be in kill range.

“You could have just let them kill me,” she said. “More than twenty to one, inevitable. Keep your hands clean.”

“Wasn’t on my option board.” Robie glanced at one of the dead men. “Who are they?”

“Militiamen. And not very capable ones.”

He nodded. “Did you kill Jacobs and Gelder?”

Reel drew a few yards closer and stopped. She glanced at Robie’s hands. They hadn’t moved. But it would only take a second for that to change and the Glock to fire.

“How did you know to come here?” she asked.

“Friend of a friend. Didn’t know if you’d be here or not. I was looking for West.”

“Why?”

“Because you were looking for him.”

Reel said nothing. She just stared at his gun hand.

“You don’t have to send any more cryptic texts, Jessica. I’m here. So tell me what the hell is going on.”

“It’s complicated, Will.”

“Then let’s start out simple. Did you kill them?”

Robie walked forward another five yards. They were now right on the cusp.

Neither of them was holding their Glocks loosely now. The muscles in their trigger hands were flexed tight. But the fingers were still on the trigger guards.

“You haven’t changed much, Will.”

“Apparently you have,” said Robie. “Roy West? Where is he? With the pile of bodies?”

She shook her head. “Not those piles. But he’s still dead.”

“You killed him too?”

“He did himself in. It’s dangerous to fill your house with explosives. Like living with rattlesnakes.”

“Why did you need to find West?”

“He had something I needed.”

“A document?” asked Robie.

Her face flashed concern. “How did you know about that?”

“Did you get it?”

“I already had the document and I’ve read it. I wanted more info, but I didn’t get it.”

“So all this was a waste?” he said.

They both glanced sideways. In the far distance a sound could be heard. Sirens. Even in the middle of nowhere explosions and gunfire drew the police eventually.

She looked back at him. “I know what you’ve been tasked to do,” she said.

“And I’m giving you a chance to explain.”

“So explanation before execution?”

“That depends solely on the explanation.”

The sirens were drawing closer. Each singsong screech burst the quiet like artillery rounds.

He added, “And we’re running out of time.”

“I’m not a traitor.”

“That’s good to know. Now prove it.”

“I don’t have proof. Not yet.”

Their fingers slipped near their respective triggers. They each took two steps forward. It was simultaneous but not choreographed. They were now squarely in their Glocks’ kill zones.

Robie frowned. “You’re going to have to do better than that. I’ve got a dead number two and another agency grunt on a slab. Under normal circumstances, that would be enough, so this is taking me out of my comfort zone. So talk to me. Now.”

The sirens sounded almost on top of them.

“Gelder and Jacobs were the traitors.”

“How?”

“They killed somebody. Somebody that meant a lot to me.”

“Why?” asked Robie.

“Because he was going to expose their plot.”

“Which was?”

The sirens were deafening now. It seemed like every cop in Arkansas had been called in.

“I don’t have time to explain now.”

“I’m not sure you have a choice, Jessica.”

“What does it matter? You have your orders, Will.”

“I don’t always follow them. Just like you.”

“You almost always follow them.”

“You sent me the texts. You said everything you did has a reason. I just had to open the lock. So tell me what you meant! But there are no guarantees, Jessica. None. Not even if your explanation makes sense. That’s just the way it has to be.”

They were no longer looking at each other. Their gazes were on each other’s hands. Hands with guns were what killed, while eyes were just points of deception; it was a lesson learned too late for the fool who stopped looking at the fingers.

“How do I know I can trust you?” she said. “Sending you texts is one thing. But it troubles me greatly that you were able to find me and this place so fast.” She glanced up at him, daring to take her gaze off his gun hand. “It makes me think you had help. Agency help. So it comes back down to, how do I know I can trust you?”

“You can’t know that, not for sure. Just like I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“I’m not sure that gets us anywhere, Will.”

He saw her gun hand tighten just a bit.

“It doesn’t have to go down like this, Jessica.”

“You’d think, wouldn’t you? But it probably will go down just like this.”

“Roy West was an analyst who got canned. What’s so important about him?” There was more urgency in Robie’s voice, because the sirens were growing so close that he was afraid they would have to engage in a gun battle with the cops just to escape. “And talk fast.”

She said, “He’s a bad guy but a good writer.”

“What exactly did he write? The document?”

“The apocalypse,” she replied.

They could now hear the screech of tires in addition to the sirens.

“The apocalypse? Explain that.”

“Not enough time, Will. You’ll just have to trust me.”

“That’s asking a lot. Too much.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Then why the texts?”

She started to say something but then stopped. “I guess I didn’t want you to think I’d gone bad.” She paused, but only for a second. “I’m sorry, Will.”

Before he could answer Reel fired. Not at Robie, but at one of the militiamen, who wasn’t quite dead yet and was set to shoot at them. He dropped back to the ground for good with one of her rounds in his head.

When Reel turned back Robie had his pistol aimed at her head, with both hands wrapped around the Glock’s butt. His finger hovered over the trigger. She had no chance now. Her pistol dangled uselessly at her side.

The sirens were screaming in their ears now.

“Close your eyes, Jessica.”

“I’d prefer to keep them open.”

“I said close your eyes. I won’t ask again.”

Reel slowly closed her eyes. She braced herself for the impact of the round. Robie would only need one shot. She could count on him for that. Her death would be instant. But she still wondered how it would feel.

Seconds went by but there was no shot.

She finally opened her eyes.

Will Robie was gone.

CHAPTER

43

REEL JUMPED INTO HER TRUCK, gunned the engine, and made her way back to the main road on a route that took her away from the sirens and screeches.

She finally hit firm asphalt, slammed down the gas pedal, and the Ford hurtled down the road. She was twenty miles away and could no longer see the smoke plume above the tree line before she slowed the vehicle to under eighty.

She pulled off the road, disassembled her weapons, stowed them away in her bag, and drove back toward the airport. Along the way she slipped into a car wash and got most of the dirt off the Ford, although there were some scratches and dents that hadn’t been there before. She drove on and reached the airport.