The Heist

yourself how this corned beef got here.” He took a bite of the sandwich. “Or how I did.”
    “You had help from whoever is behind that curtain.” She gestured to it with her gun. “How many men are there?”
    “Two,” Nick said. “I was getting a little midnight snack while they slept, but thanks to you slamming the door they’re probably awake now.”
    “Are they armed?”
    “I don’t think so, but unlike you I don’t make a practice of patting down everyone I meet.”
    Kate aimed her gun squarely at Nick and faced the curtain. “Both of you come out nice and slow, because if you startle me, I might accidentally splatter the wall with Nick’s head.”
    A man’s hand reached out from behind the curtain, grabbed the edge, and slowly lifted it to one side. Kate gaped at the man and felt all the air leave her lungs in a single
whoosh
. It was Carl Jessup, her boss. He stood there in a cable-knit sweater and old jeans and he didn’t seem all that worried at being discovered.
    The sting of betrayal that Kate felt was every bit as sharp as a physical slap and raised the same red tint on her cheeks that his hand would have. Now she knew how Nick was able to slip out of the courthouse, and the country, so easily and without leaving a trace. He had help at the highest level of law enforcement.
    “Well, now I know why you wanted me off the case and put a boob like Ryerson on it,” Kate said to Jessup. “You engineered Nick’s escape, and you knew if I was on the hunt I’d get him. Your mistake was that you believed I’d actually sit on the sidelines if youassigned the case to someone else. You should have known me better. Then again, I guess I hardly knew you either, did I?”
    “It’s not what you think,” Jessup said.
    “You’re here, aren’t you?”
    “Yeah, but I’m not alone.”
    Jessup stepped aside to allow the man behind him to come out.
    The second man behind the curtain was gray-haired, ten years younger than Jessup, and looked like he’d been born wearing a tie. He was in his casual wear, a cardigan sweater that would have made Mister Rogers proud, a long-sleeved blue dress shirt buttoned at the cuffs, a pair of khaki pants, and shiny loafers. He was Fletcher Bolton, deputy director of the FBI, the highest position an agent could reach within the agency without being appointed by the president of the United States.
    Kate glanced at Nick, who clearly thought this was a lot of fun. He poured a glass of tsipouro, and slid it toward her.
    “You’re going to need this,” he said.
    Kate looked back at Jessup and Bolton. “The Bureau set this idiot free?”
    “Officially, no,” Bolton said. “He’s a fugitive from justice and wanted on three continents. He’s being actively pursued by dozens of law enforcement agencies, including the FBI.”
    “And unofficially?” Kate asked.
    “He works for us now.”
    Nick held up his drink in a toast to Kate. “Welcome to the team.”
    “Sit,” Bolton said to Kate, motioning to a chair.
    Kate took a seat at the table, arms folded over her chest, the expression on her face saying
ex–Navy SEAL in kill mode
.
    “First, I wanted this meeting to take place somewhere soremote that there was virtually no chance anyone besides the four of us would ever know that it had occurred,” Bolton said. “Second, it was the ideal audition. I wanted to see how far you were willing to bend the law to enforce it.”
    “I wanted to see how far you’d go to see me,” Nick said, smiling.
    “To
arrest
you, or shoot you,” Kate said. “Or if I was really lucky, both.”
    Bolton took a chair and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “My feeling was that if you showed up here, halfway around the world and in a place where women have been forbidden for a thousand years, then there was no question that you’re the right person for this job.”
    “And clearly you’re game for anything, especially if it seems impossible,” Nick said. “Just like me.”
    “Believe it or not,” Kate said, “the whole world doesn’t revolve around you.”
    “Your world does,” he said.
    “Don’t flatter yourself.”
    “You’re here, aren’t you?”
    In her mind, Kate briefly relived the glorious moment when she’d hit his car with a bus. Channel the bus, she thought.
Be
the bus.
    She turned to Bolton. “Where is this going?”
    “We want you to do the same thing you’re doing now. Catch the bad guys.”
    “Like this one sitting across from me?” Kate took