The Witness

wanted a beer on a Sunday evening. And some chips, which he’d had to sneak in, as she didn’t have a single item of junk food in the place.
    When he walked into the kitchen, she sat, hands in her lap, staring at her screen. He eased open the fridge, took out a beer, glanced her way, eased open the cabinet where he’d stashed the chips. Sour-cream-and-onion.
    And she turned.
    “I’ll be out of your way in a second.”
    “I did it.”
    He studied her face, set the beer aside. “You finished the program.”
    “Yes. It works. Theoretically. I’ve tested it several times. I can’t actually run it into the network until it’s time, so I can’t be absolutely certain. But I am. Certain it will work.”
    He grinned, came over, boosted her up by the elbows for a kiss. “You’re a genius.”
    “Yes.”
    “Then why don’t you look happy?”
    “I am. I’m … numb, I think. I believed I could do it, but when I did, I realized I hadn’t really believed I could do it.” Because it ached a little, she pressed her fingers to her left temple. “That doesn’t make sense.”
    “Yes, it does.”
    “Brooks. I can take down their network, corrupt every file, every program. I can shut them down, no matter what operating system or computer any individual uses. I can do it, and, doing it immediately after I siphon the funds, they’ll be ruined. Broken.”
    Now she pressed her hand to her heart. “And before I do that, I can give the authorities enough to shut down a string of operations, use that to prosecute other lieutenants and soldiers, until the Volkov
bratva
is in pieces they can never put back together.”
    “Humpty Dumpty them.”
    She let out a breathless laugh. “Yes. Yes. I didn’t really believe I could do it,” she murmured. “If I had, I’d have done it before I agreed to testify.”
    He kept his face blank. “Do you want to step away from that?”
    “You’d let me.” As he often did with her, she framed his face in her hands. “I love you so much. You’d let me step away, even though it’s against your code. But no, I won’t. I can’t. It’s part of the whole, part of who I want to be. Part of who you expect me to be.”
    “I only expect you to be who you are.”
    “I expect more now. I expect more of Elizabeth. I expect more of Abigail. And I want you to expect more of me now. My testimony, my data, the hacking, the supervirus. It’s all one. When it’s finished, Elizabeth can go with a clear conscience.”
    She closed her eyes, then opened them, smiled into his. “And Abigail can marry you with one. I want to marry you so much. I might even want to go to a wedding boutique.”
    “Uh-oh.”
    “I’m a little afraid of it, but I might.”
    “
Now
you look happy.”
    “I am. I’m very happy. As soon as we find a hotel, I could arrange for transportation. We could have your captain set up the meeting. We could start the next stage.”
    “I’ve got the hotel. In Tysons Corner, Virginia. Middle-range, right off the highway.”
    “I’d like to see the hotel’s website, and a map of the area.”
    “Figured you would. I’ve got them bookmarked on my laptop.”
    “We could book the rooms, arrange the meeting for tomorrow or the day after. It’s less time for the authorities to try to find me.”
    “Day after. I need to rework the schedule so I’m covered.”
    “That’s better. I have to make arrangements for Bert.”
    “My mother will take him.”
    “Oh. But …” She hesitated, looked down at the dog. “I thought a licensed kennel, with professionals.”
    “You’re going to put him in jail?”
    “A kennel isn’t a jail.” Now she had two sets of hazel eyes staring at her. “He did enjoy being over there this afternoon, but it seems like a lot to ask of your parents.”
    “They’ll love it. Plus, that’s what family does. Get used to it. Go on and check out the hotel. I’ll give her a call.”
    “All right.”
    Brooks pulled out his cell phone as Abigail left the kitchen. “You owe me,” he said to Bert.
    E VERYTHING IN PLACE , Abigail told herself. She stood in her safe room, carefully selecting what she’d need to take this next step.
    She booked the hotel rooms under two different names, at two different times, from two different computers. Brooks would check in as Lucas Boman—the name of his first Little League coach. She’d create his ID the next day. Hers, which she’d give Anson to pass to the feds once she and Brooks were checked in, set