The Witness

him,” Garrison admitted.
    “Of course.”
    “You know, if he’s ordered to bring you in, Cabot will have you locked down tight. I want you to know, if that happens, I
will
keep you safe.”
    “If he takes me in, I’ll get away, however tight he locks me down. I’ll find a way. You’ll never see or hear from me again.”
    “I believe you,” Garrison murmured.
    “I can be very resourceful.”
    It took twenty minutes for Cabot to come back. He sat. “I think we can work out a compromise.”
    “Do you?”
    “An elite two-man team, known only to me, to guard you in a location again known only by me.”
    “And when they learn, and they will, you have the information, and they take your wife or one of your children, when they send you a hand or an ear, who will you save?”
    Cabot’s fists balled on his knees. “You think very little of our security.”
    “I have your address, I know where your children go to school, where your wife works, where she prefers to shop. Do you think they can’t access the same, won’t use any means to access it when their organization is threatened?
    “I’ll cooperate. I’ll speak with the prosecutors, with your superiors. I’ll testify in court. But I won’t go into a safe house again, and I won’t go into witness protection once it’s done. That’s my price, and it’s very little for the value I’m offering.”
    “And if we move on this, push forward on this, and you run again?”
    She reached over, picked up the bag holding the bloodstained sweater. “Terry’s sweater, John’s blood. I’ve kept this for twelve years. Wherever I’ve gone, whoever I became, this was with me. I need to let it go, and at least some of the pain and guilt and grief. I can’t until I do what I need to do for Julie, for John, for Terry. I’ll keep in daily contact via computer. When it’s announced I’ve been found, and I’ll testify, they’ll do everything they can to find out who knows where I am, who’s protecting me. But they’ll find nothing, because there won’t be anything to find.
    “And when I walk in the courtroom that day, it ends for them. It ends for all of us. That’s the deal.”
    When they left her, finally left her, she lay down on the bed.
    “Will he keep his word?” She closed her eyes, imagined Brooks there with her instead of just watching. “Will he? I’m so tired. I’m so glad you’re here. Right here,” she said, and, fisting a hand, laid it on her heart.
    Brooks watched her drift off, and thought if Cabot didn’t keep his word there would be hell to pay. And he would exact the payment.
    But for now he stood watch while she slept.

30
     
    B ROOKS SPOTTED THE FBI SHORTLY AFTER HE SAT DOWN FOR breakfast at the hotel’s morning buffet. He barely glanced toward where Abigail sat, reading the newspaper at her single table. Casually scanning the room, he pretended to make and receive calls on his cell phone, just another busy man in transition. With the phone still at his ear, he headed out with his overnight bag.
    And pulled the fire alarm on his way.
    He paused, as any man might—surprised, mildly annoyed—and watched the crowd in the buffet area push away from tables, heard the noise level rise as people talked all at once.
    She was good, Brooks observed. Abigail merged with the exiting crowd. As he zigzagged between her and the tailing agents, joining the people exiting, she nipped to the side and into a restroom. If he hadn’t been watching for it, hadn’t known the plan, he wouldn’t have seen the move.
    He slowed his pace a moment. “Fire alarm,” he said into the phone.“No, it won’t hold me up. I’m heading out,” he added, as he fell in behind the agents. After he pushed the phone into his pocket, he pulled a ball cap out of his bag. Still moving, he put on sunglasses, stuffed the jacket he’d worn into the buffet in the bag, pulled the strap of the bag long, then slid it crossways over his body.
    They were looking for her now, Brooks noted, one of them doubling back, searching the crowd, aiming for the lobby and the main exit.
    Less than two minutes after he’d pulled the alarm, she slipped out of the restroom, joined him. The long tail of her blond hair was pulled through a ball cap like his. She wore flip-flops and a pink hoodie, and had shed a good ten pounds.
    They walked out together, hand in hand, then broke from the crowd and climbed into a cab.
    “Dulles Airport,” Brooks told the driver, “American