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“I’d love that. Where?”
“I’ll come to you. To the Lake Placid cabin. It’s safest that way.”
“When?”
“Sunday.”
“Okay.”
Neither spoke for a moment.
“Claire, I wanted to tell you—”
“Not over the phone, Dad. Get off the landline. I’ll see you Sunday.”
“Okay.”
Avery ended the call, her hand shaking now more than it had been a moment earlier.
“Do you think it will work?” she asked.
On the coffee table next to Avery’s phone was the thin metal box containing the listening devices Jim Oliver had given to Walt. Moments earlier, Walt had removed one of them, activated it, and placed it next to Avery’s phone so the entire conversation could be recorded.
“I’m not sure,” Walt said. He was sitting on the couch next to her. “But it’s your best shot if you want to keep the feds occupied and focused on the cabin.”
Walt lifted the device from the table, stood, and placed it in his pocket.
“Now the hard part starts. Are you sure you’re up for it?”
Avery nodded. A few minutes later they hailed a cab outside the Lowell. From the backseat Walt told the driver where they were headed.
“Javits Federal Building. Twenty-Six Federal Plaza.”
FBI headquarters.
CHAPTER 62
New Orleans, LA Sunday, July 11, 2021
WHEN THINGS HAPPENED, THEY HAPPENED QUICKLY. MONTHS OF limbo had been suddenly replaced with action. Years of planning had been changed at the last minute. He had only a small window to pack his belongings and get moving. It all came down to this moment. There was no time to think it through. No time to plan it out. No time to use logic or critical thinking to make sure things would work. They either would, or they wouldn’t. But staying put and hunkering down at the cabin was no longer an option. The feds were on the prowl, and closer than they’d ever been. It was now or never.
Fueled by half a dozen energy drinks, he drove through the night. He wanted to speed and race and put miles behind him, but couldn’t risk a ticket. He drove in the middle lane and pegged the cruise control right at the speed limit designated by each state he drove though. It was five in the morning when he finally made it to New Orleans. The timing was good. Had he arrived earlier, he’d have too many hours to burn. Any later, and he’d be cutting it close.
He ditched the car in a Target parking lot about a mile from the terminal. His legs were stiff from the drive, which was nonstop other than bathroom breaks. When he reached the Julia Street Cruise Terminal, he walked over to the railing and looked out at the Gulf of Mexico just as the horizon was starting to burn with dawn. The brightening sky and the orange glow of the ocean filled him with hope that soon he would be free. That maybe, perhaps, this could work.
God, he hoped Claire knew what she was doing.
CHAPTER 63
Manhattan, NY Sunday, July 11, 2021
THE TWO FEDERAL AGENTS PULLED TO THE CURB IN FRONT OF THE judge’s residence early Sunday morning and climbed from the car. The female agent wore slacks and a blazer, and just like when the two hiked through the mountains of Lake Placid earlier in the week, she was in charge. Her partner, wearing a crisp gray suit, followed her to the front door. He limped slightly from his blisters. Sunday mornings, the agents knew, were a time for coffee and newspapers before the judge headed to church with his family. Their presence would not be well received, but there was simply no more time to wait.
The female agent knocked on the front door and a moment later Judge Marcus Harris opened it. The judge was wearing a T-shirt and work-out shorts. Open-toed slippers covered his feet, and a look of annoyance covered his face.
“Good morning, sir. I’m special agent Mary Sullivan. This is my partner, James Martin.”
“Is this really necessary on a Sunday morning?” the judge asked.
