Page 167 of The Oligarch's Daughter

As Paul walked closer, he saw that it was an old Chevy Nova, probably around 1975. A compact muscle car. A car that was old enough to be hot-wired. He knew how to do that.

His father had taught him how.

*

He made several wrong turns trying to get out of Pittsburgh and on to the interstate. The Chevy Nova was loud, sounded like there was a hole in the muffler. It was also an amazing gas guzzler; he could almost see the needle on the gas gauge drop before his eyes.

He was in a strange, thunderstruck state. In his mind, he kept seeing his father’s crumpled body.

He knew that if you pointed a weapon at a U.S. law enforcement officer, and they decided they were in imminent danger, they had the right to use deadly force. He had no doubt his father had known it, too.

Stanley had stood, feigned surrendering, and then pointed his gun, knowing that it would slow the FBI agent down, allow Paul to escape.

His father, who had been gone for most of Paul’s life, only to reappear so briefly. Paul didn’t like him, but maybe he had loved him. No, he didn’t love the guy, yet he mourned him.

He didn’t know how to feel.

He was angry, he was grieving, he was in shock.

Yes, his father shouldn’t have been so stupid as to pull a gun on an FBI agent. But he didn’t deserve to be killed. Tears welled up in Paul’s eyes. He felt something he hadn’t felt since his mother’s death, a stab of anguish.

109

As Paul passed through the tollgate, he noticed the camera photographing his license plate. Probably the student hadn’t yet reported his car missing. Even if he had, Paul assumed it would take a while before the stolen license plate number went online.

And what if there were an APB out on him? Wasn’t there a way to find out? There had to be.

He saw a sign for the town of Somerset and pulled to the side of the road. All he knew about Somerset was that it was a town in Pennsylvania. He called the Somerset Police Department. It had to be a small department, Paul thought. Where people were friendly, neighborly. Unlike a big-city police department.

The phone on the other end rang and rang, ten rings. He hung up and hit Redial. On the second try, someone answered. It sounded like a woman with a deep voice, but he wasn’t sure it wasn’t a man.

“Somerset Police. Is this an emergency?”

“Um, I know this guy, I overheard him talking, and he may be wanted by the police or the FBI or something. And I want to see if there’s a reward if I turn him in.”

“Who is ‘this guy’?” the person said.

“I’m not sure, but I heard the name ‘Brightman’?”

He was obviously fishing, but the clerk said, “Hold on.”

The clerk got back on the line thirty seconds later. “There’s a reward of half a million dollars,” the person said in a louder voice. “If they apprehend him based on the information you provide, you get five hundred thousand dollars. You can give me the information, or else you can call the anonymous tip line.”

“I’ll do that,” Paul said and disconnected the call.

The FBI was offering half a million dollars for information leading to his arrest.Half a million dollars. Once it was put up on the internet, that information would motivate a lot of people.

Instead of taking a bus, he would continue on to D.C. He found the nearest gas station and filled up.

Back behind the wheel, he observed the speed limit, stayed in the right lane as long as he could stand it.

He knew only one way out of the situation he was in. One way forward, and that way was littered with obstacles and filled with risks.

He called the only person in the FBI he knew he could trust.

110

Special Agent Stephanie Trombley’s hair had gone gray since Paul last saw her in New York City five years ago, with Special Agent Addison, just before the massacre at the FBI office. Her hair was longer than it had been last time. Her face had aged more than you’d expect. But she had been through a harrowing time, seeing her colleague and friend, Mark Addison, murdered along with the others at the satellite FBI office on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. The stress alone must have aged her more than five years.

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