Edge

them fit the description of the suspect, Loving.”
    Three other actors?
    “Carter didn’t get any look at the tag.”
    “What happened there?”
    “Amanda kicked one of the suspects you know where. . . . Then she turned around and shoved Carter down a steep hill into a creek—to save him, you know. Kid was a real hero, Carter said. She started to jump after him but they got her.”
    A hero, like her father.
    “They fired on him but they didn’t want to wait around. And took off. Winged him in the ankle but he’ll live.”
    “Which direction did they go?”
    “No idea, sir. We put it out on the wire but so far, nothing. Follow up?”
    “No. Keep it quiet for the time being.”
    “Yessir.”
    After we disconnected I looked at the house, where the girl’s father and stepmother waited. Ilooked over the fields around the house, growing lighter and darker as passing clouds squelched the moonlight from time to time. Debating. Were the three men in the SUV the primaries? Or were they muscle too? Or other partners of Loving?
    I wondered again, what information could a primary possibly want to extract from a sixteen-year-old girl?
    I glanced at Pogue, then crouched down in front of McCall.
    Calm, Corte. Whatever happens you have to stay calm. When you look into your opponent’s face, when you talk to him, it should be like you’re discussing cornflakes. Never more emotional than that. . . . Emotion’s deadly.
    What’s the goal? I asked myself.
    What’s the most efficient way to achieve it?
    I knew these questions. I knew them in my heart. Yet for some reason now I grabbed McCall by the collar, gripped until he started to choke and shouted, “Where did they take her?”
    He shook his head, as best he could.
    “What’s the facility, where is it?” Twisting harder. I felt Ahmad’s eyes on me. He’d never seen me like this.
    Spittle formed in the corners of McCall’s lips.
    “Where?” I raged.
    His terrified eyes turned toward me. But he still remained silent.
    I released him, stood up. I didn’t want to take him into the house with my principals. I glanced toward the panic house, a small outbuilding about the size of a detached three-car garage. It didn’t look substantial but it was. People could flee inside,seal the doors and be safe from any kind of armament up to the level of a rocket-propelled grenade.
    “Get him inside.”
    Ahmad and Pogue dragged McCall roughly into the outbuilding.
    I remained on the dewy grass and looked toward the panic house. The heavy steel door was open and the lights were on inside. I could see McCall shackled to a kitchen chair. His face wasn’t defiant; he was scared.
    The place was brightly lit and painted in easy colors—yellow and pastel blue—on the theory that if there was an extended siege, the occupants might be less inclined to surrender if the setting was cheery. Little things like that make a difference.
    I turned away and walked to the main house. I punched in the key to the door. I wasn’t looking forward to delivering the news.
    All of my principals were clustered around a window, staring out. I hadn’t explained to them about my suspicions of the man posing as Barr. But I now gave them the details of how he’d gotten inside and how Zagaev was a feint.
    “Oh, Christ,” Maree said. “He could’ve killed us. While we were asleep he could’ve, like, cut our throats.”
    Ryan asked, “Who’s the other one, the tall guy?”
    It was Joanne who spoke. “His name’s Jon Pogue. He works for my organization.” Then her voice faded, as she looked at me. “Why would they need a feint, though, Corte? Getting a mole inside here should’ve been enough. What else is going on?”
    I inhaled a little deeper than usual. “It’s Amanda they’re after. And they’ve got her.”
    Joanne’s mouth tightened and Ryan growled, “Where, where is she?”
    “We don’t know. But there’s no doubt. Amanda was the Kessler they wanted.”
    “No, no,” Maree whispered.
    Joanne said in a voice as calm as mine, “Why? What does she know?”
    I shook my head.
    Ryan’s face was red. “Those pricks! My little girl . . . what . . . ?” Then, it seemed, forming words became too much for him.
    “And Bill?” Joanne asked.
    “Minor injuries. He’ll be okay. They killed the detention center guard who was with them. We believe they’ve taken Amanda to a rendezvous site nearby. Loving’s on his way there. But we don’t know where. We tried to find