Once they were on the road again, Rogers asked Myers, “What happened after I got

knocked out?” “Men came in and took me out. I don’t know what happened to Josh.”

“We do,” said Puller. “He’s dead.” “What?” said Myers. “Washed up on the beach

with his head bashed in.” Rogers eyed Davis again. “How do you feel about that?”

“Probably the same as you do. Nothing.” Knox looked at the old man, who was

unfocused, his head tilting to one side. “I’m thinking plastic surgery on the

face and other stuff to make him look like Ballard.” Puller glanced in the

rearview at Myers and then Davis. “Work with us and maybe you get a deal.” “A

deal for what?” said Myers sharply. “I wasn’t aware I’d done anything wrong.”

Knox said, “Anton Charpentier. And we have the pictures to prove it. The Feds

are already working up their indictments.” Myers paled and glanced out the

window.

 

Rogers said, “They want Jericho. Not the small fish. You talk, maybe you walk.”

Myers said, “I…I don’t know.” “You don’t know?” said Knox incredulously. She

looked at Davis. “Okay, so we nail her ass for espionage and she goes away for

life.

 

How about you? You want to deal?” Rogers glanced at her. “Don’t be dumb.” Davis

shrugged.

 

Puller added, “Cooperate now and it will only help you down the line.” “They

just hired me to look after this guy,” she said, indicating the old man. “Other

than that, I don’t know squat.” “Guys, don’t you mean?” said Knox. “I don’t