The door clicked shut.
Victoria stood frozen, staring at the closed door. Nathaniel was still on the floor, his breath coming in short, angry bursts. The basement felt smaller than it had a moment ago.
"We need to move," Victoria said.
Nathaniel looked up at her. "Where?"
"Anywhere but here. Vinson said seventy-two hours. That's not a gift. That's a countdown."
She walked to the table and began packing the laptop. The external drive went into her jacket pocket, next to the pepper spray. She grabbed the burner phone, checked for messages. Nothing.
Nathaniel stood up. His face was pale, but his hands were steady.
"Vinson knew about Margaret's house," he said. "He knew about Diana. He knew about Rhodes."
"Then someone told him."
"Or he's been following us longer than we thought."
Victoria zipped the backpack. "It doesn't matter how he found us. What matters is that we're not safe here anymore."
"We're not safe anywhere."
"Then we need to be unpredictable."
Nathaniel walked to the window and looked out at the alley. The sky was starting to lighten. Dawn was coming.
"Rhodes's meeting is at ten," he said. "Olivia Park. We need to be there."
"We need to survive until then."
"Same thing."
Victoria pulled out the burner phone and dialed Diana's number.
No answer.
She dialed again.
Voicemail.
"Diana isn't picking up," Victoria said.
Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "Then we're on our own."
---
They left through the back window.
It was a tight fit. Victoria went first, sliding through the narrow opening and dropping onto the damp ground of the alley. Nathaniel followed, landing beside her with a soft grunt.
The alley was empty. A stray cat watched them from a dumpster, then ran.
"Margaret's car," Victoria said. "Diana left it here."
She pointed to the gray sedan, still parked in the driveway. The keys were in the visor—Diana's idea of a backup plan.
Nathaniel got in the driver's seat. Victoria climbed into the passenger side.
"Where to?" he asked.
"Rhodes's office. But not directly. We need to lose any tails."
"Any ideas?"
Victoria thought for a moment. "The metro. We drive to the station, leave the car, take the train. If someone's following us, they'll be watching the car, not the platform."
Nathaniel started the engine. "That might work."
"It has to work."
---
They drove through the empty streets of Alexandria, heading toward the King Street metro station.
Victoria watched the rearview mirror. No headlights. No cars that seemed to be following. But Vinson was good. He wouldn't be obvious.
"Tell me about Olivia Park," she said.
"She's an accountant. Mid-thirties. Works for a firm that does business with Webb's shell companies. Rhodes thinks she's the weakest link."
"Why?"
"Because she has a conscience. She's been donating to charities Webb would never approve of. She's been keeping a separate set of books—Rhodes's team found evidence of it."
"She's preparing to run."
"Or preparing to talk."
Victoria looked out the window. The sun was rising over the Potomac, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
"If she talks," Victoria said, "Webb will know. And he'll come after her."
"Rhodes says he can protect her."
"Rhodes doesn't know Vinson."
Nathaniel was quiet for a moment. "No. He doesn't."
---
They abandoned the car in a parking garage near the metro station.
Nathaniel wiped down the steering wheel and door handles—not because they'd done anything illegal, but because he didn't want anyone tracing the car back to Margaret.
They walked to the platform. The first train of the morning arrived seven minutes later.
They sat in the back, away from the other passengers. Victoria kept her head down, the backpack between her feet. Nathaniel watched the doors.
"Tell me something," Victoria said.
"About what?"
"About your father. The janitor. Your mother. The housekeeper."
Nathaniel's expression shifted. "Why?"
"Because I told you about mine. It's your turn."
He was quiet for a long moment. The train rattled through a tunnel, the lights flickering.
"My father drank," he said finally. "Not because he was a bad man. Because he was tired. He worked twelve-hour days cleaning floors, and at the end of every shift, he came home and drank until he couldn't feel his back anymore."
"Did he hurt you?"
"No. He hurt himself. Died when I was nineteen. Cirrhosis. My mother followed him two years later. Heart attack. The doctors said it was stress."
Victoria reached over and took his hand. He didn't pull away.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Don't be. It was a long time ago."
"But it's still with you."
He looked at her. "Everything is still with me. That's the problem."
---
The train arrived at the L'Enfant Plaza station at 8:15 AM.
They walked to the Justice Department building, keeping to the shadows. Victoria's ID was checked. Nathaniel's was checked. The backpack went through the X-ray machine.
The guard looked at the laptop. "Business?"
"Personal," Victoria said again.
The guard waved them through.
They took the elevator to the seventh floor. The hallway was empty. The receptionist's desk was unoccupied.
"Rhodes's office," Nathaniel said.
They walked to the end of the hallway. Victoria knocked.
No answer.
She knocked again.
"Martin? It's Victoria Hart."
Silence.
Nathaniel tried the door handle. It was unlocked.
He pushed the door open.
---
The office was empty.
Rhodes's desk was clean. His computer was gone. The photographs that had been on his shelves—his family, his college graduation, his dog—were gone.
Victoria walked to the desk. She opened a drawer. Empty.
"Someone cleaned him out," she said.
Nathaniel walked to the window. "Or he cleaned himself out."
"You think he ran?"
"I think he was warned."
Victoria pulled out the burner phone and dialed Diana's number again.
This time, someone answered.
"Who is this?" a man's voice said.
Victoria's blood went cold. "Who is this?"
"Federal agent. This phone was found at a crime scene. Identify yourself."
She hung up.
Nathaniel looked at her. "What?"
"The phone. Diana's phone. The feds have it."
"Crime scene?"
Victoria's hands were shaking. "We need to go. Now."
They ran.
---
They took the stairs. Seventh floor. Sixth. Fifth. Fourth. Third. Second. First.
The lobby was crowded with morning commuters. Victoria pushed through them, Nathaniel close behind.
They burst out onto the street.
"Where?" Nathaniel asked.
"I don't know. Just away."
They ran three blocks, then four. Victoria's lungs burned. Her legs ached.
Finally, they ducked into an alley and stopped.
"What happened to Diana?" Nathaniel asked.
"I don't know. But if the feds have her phone, she's either in custody or—" She couldn't finish the sentence.
"Or she's dead."
Victoria leaned against the wall, her head bowed.
"We need a new plan," she said.
"We need to find Olivia Park ourselves. Before Webb does."
"How? We don't know where she is. We don't have Rhodes. We don't have Diana."
Nathaniel pulled out his phone—the burner, not his own. "I have one contact left. Someone I've been saving for an emergency."
"Who?"
"Richard's widow. Elena Chan."
"Elena? What can she do?"
"She can tell us where Olivia Park lives. Richard kept files on everyone. Elena found them after he died. She didn't tell me because she was scared. But now..." He looked at Victoria. "Now we don't have a choice."
Victoria nodded slowly. "Call her."
Nathaniel dialed.
Elena answered on the third ring.
"Nathaniel?"
"Elena, I need your help."
"I know. I've been watching the news. Diana Reyes is dead."
Victoria felt the world tilt.
"What?" Nathaniel said.
"Car accident. Early this morning. Same as Nora Vance. The police are calling ait a mechanical failure."
Nathaniel closed his eyes. "Elena, we need Olivia Park's address. Do you have it?"
A pause.
"Come to Scarsdale," Elena said. "I'll give you everything I have. But you need to be careful. They're watching me too."
The line went dead.