Page 45 of The Atlas Maneuver

“At the time? No. Now? Damn right. Somethin’s off here.”

She agreed. As if Citrone wanted him to know.

“How far away are we?” she asked from below.

“Maybe a quarter mile and closing,” he said.

The chaos in the house certainly indicated something had happened. Citrone being taken to a boat, then out on the lake, was clearly a cause for concern. His abductors being Japanese? Another red flag. But what did it all mean?

Too soon to tell.

She was three steps down in the forward cabin, below the main deck. The metal tube lay on the pilot’s chair. Koger had placed the map back inside the spindle, minus its container, and returned it to the stair railing. They’d brought along the empty metal tube, planning to use it to attract the men in the other boat’s attention, hoping the map had been what they were after and they’d simply failed to locate it.

The boat pitched and poked its way ahead.

“I can see how you and Captain America get along,” he said to her. “You’re a lot like him.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said.

Koger pulled back on the throttle, slowing gradually, the bow wave diminishing as they came to a slow swinging stop and settled on the water.

“Get ready. We’re here.”

AIKO HAD WATCHED THE VAN FROM THE CONSULATE SPEED PAST, then weave back in front of them.

And the driver?

Cotton Malone.

Who apparently had avoided the obstacle she’d left for him with her man. The idea had been to delay Malone enough so they could leave the consulate. He was a known commodity within the intelligence community, though one from the past. Smart. Competent. Proof positive of which had just been shown as he’d backed the van into their car. The jolt had jostled them all around but the shoulder harness had done its job and kept her in the seat.

“The trunk has opened,” her driver said.

Kelly Austin rushed by outside.

“Stop her,” she ordered.

Her driver opened his door.

COTTON HOPEDKELLY HAD SEEN HIM PASS THEBMW.

And she had.

He saw her spring from the trunk and run his way. He decided to provide cover and slipped out the driver’s-side door, sending one round from his gun ricocheting off the BMW’s hood. Kelly reacted to the shot with a momentary hesitation, but he urged her forward with a wave of the weapon.

The BMW’s driver emerged, surely reaching for a gun beneath his jacket. Kelly kept coming from the passenger side and he sent the driver to the ground with another round to the car’s hood. Taking out a tire would be good, but the angle was wrong. So, for good measure, he blew out the driver’s-side door window. He was trying not to kill anyone unless absolutely necessary.

Kelly hopped into the front passenger seat.

He climbed back inside and rammed the accelerator to the floor, spinning the steering wheel. The rear tires broke loose on the asphalt, then bit. He whipped the steering wheel hard left and swung around into the opposite lane, speeding ahead.

“What now?” she asked.

Good question.

AIKO STARED AT HER DRIVER, WHO STOOD AFTER TAKING COVER FROMMalone’s bullets, slipping back behind the wheel and slamming his door shut.

“Pursue them,” she said.

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