He didn’t know what to do. But he had no one left to protect.
“They’re bringing him back,” he finally said.
“Who?” Matt asked.
“The priest. Father Jerome. He’s left Egypt. He’s on his way here.”
“Where here?”
“They’re saying Houston,” Rydell said. “It’s only just hitting the wires. Wherever it is, they’re bound to put a sign up over him, and the odds are, that’s where you’ll find Danny.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “You were right,” he finally conceded. “They’re planning something. Something they needed me around for. I don’t know what it is, but what I thought the plan was, what they insisted was still their plan . . . it’s not it. It’s something else. It’s all about the priest now.”
“Who would know?” Matt asked him, fixing him squarely.
“The others.”
“I need names.”
Rydell held his gaze, then said, “You only need one name. Keenan Drucker. It’s pretty much his show. He’ll know.”
“Where do I find him?”
“D.C. The Center for American Freedom. It’s a think tank.” Just then, Rydell’s BlackBerry trilled. He fished it out of his pocket, checked its screen. And frowned at Matt.
Matt looked a question at him.
Rydell nodded. It was Drucker.
He hit the answer key.
“What are you doing? Where the hell are you?” Drucker asked sharply.
“Working late, Keenan?” He looked pointedly at Matt, holding up his free hand in a stay-put gesture.
“What are you doing, Larry?”
“Getting my daughter back.” Rydell let that one sink in for a beat. Drucker went mute. Then Rydell added, “Then I thought I might head down to the New York Times and have a little chat with them.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“’Cause I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with what we set out to achieve,” Rydell shot back fiercely.
Drucker let out a rueful hiss. “Look, I made a mistake, all right? Taking Rebecca was way out of line. I know that. And I’m sorry. But you didn’t leave me any choice. And we’re in this together. We want the same thing.”
“You’re not doing this to save the planet, Keenan. We both know that.”
Drucker’s voice remained even. “We want the same thing, Larry. Believe me.”
“And what is that?”
Drucker went silent for a moment, then said, “Let’s meet somewhere. Anywhere you want. Hear me out. I’ll tell you what I’m thinking. After that, you decide if you still want to bring this whole thing down on top of us.”
Rydell swung his gaze around to Matt and Rebecca. Let Drucker sweat it out for a beat. He knew he needed to hear him out. Too much—his whole life, everything he’d achieved, everything he could still achieve—was at stake. “I’ll think about it,” he replied flatly, then hung up.
“What did he want?” Matt asked.
“To talk. To convince me to play ball.”
Matt nodded, then pointed at Rydell’s BlackBerry. “They might have a lock on you.”
Rydell held up the device, a curious expression on his face. “What, this?”
“They were tracking us. Through my friend’s phone. Even though we’ve been careful. We only had it on for short bursts.”
Rydell didn’t seem the least bit concerned. “We can do it in the time it takes your phone to send out a text message.”
Matt didn’t get it.
“It’s one of ours,” Rydell assured him. “A piece of spyware we developed for the NSA. But there’s nothing to worry about here. We’re fine. My phone’s vaccinated against it.”
Matt shrugged, looked away, then swung his gaze back at Rydell. “What are you gonna do?”
Rydell pondered his question. “I don’t know.” He hadn’t had any time to think and strategize. Not that he felt overwhelmed with options. Everything felt like it was crashing down around him. But Rebecca’s call had changed all that.
He gazed at his daughter. Her safety was paramount. “We can’t stay here,” he told Matt. “Not in Boston. Not after your little visit. There’s nowhere to lay low, not in this town. Anywhere we go will get flagged to the press—and to Maddox.”
Matt nodded, mulled it over for a moment, then said, “Don’t you want to see it?”
“What?”
“Your handiwork. In all its glory.”
Rydell thought about it for a beat, then said, “Why the hell not. Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 67
Houston, Texas
The crowds were visible from the sky. Gracie didn’t spot them at first. The jet was banking around the small airport, coming in on a low-altitude, looped approach. From a height of around a thousand feet, all she noticed was a solid mass, a dark blot staining