Fault Line

34 DEAD MAN's SWITCH

Ben listened to Hort from the back of the van, his frustration and rage growing. Alex didn't know what he was doing. He was coming to Hort like a fly into a Venus fucking flytrap.

They were in a seven-seat passenger van. Sarah and Ben were in the middle row, Sarah on the driver's side, Ben on the passenger's, their hands cuffed behind their backs. The Asian guy was driving and Hort was in the passenger seat. The two guys who'd flanked him outside Coupa Café were in back.

When Hort had asked him the name of the family dog, Ben had understood immediately what Alex was doing. Tactically, it was smart. Strategically, it was a disaster. What good was it going to do him to confirm that Ben and Sarah were alive, if the confirmation made Alex do something that would result in all of them dead a half hour later?

But he'd given up Arlo's name anyway. He might have been able to stand up to their trying to beat it out of him, but he didn't see what good it would do. They'd kill him and pick up Alex eventually anyway. He needed to bring this all to a head.

When Hort had asked Sarah about her workout clothes, she'd answered, “SourceForge.” Ben recognized the name of the tech site from their earlier discussion at the hotel. She was trying to tell Alex fuck it, just disseminate the executable of Obsidian, it's better than nothing. Her instincts were good, but Hort didn't buy it. He nodded to one of the guys behind Ben, and the guy had slipped a sleeper hold around Ben's neck and started to strangle him. Sarah watched for less than two seconds before revising her answer.

Yeah, her instincts were good. Not just the tactics, either-the objective, too. Because nothing was going to save any of them as long as Hort still had a chance to recover Obsidian. Christ, if only he'd realized what was really going on when they were back at the hotel. Alex and Sarah could have done their thing, and Hort's op would have ended right there.

He looked at Sarah. She glanced up at him and gave him a tiny, sad smile. The smile did nothing to conceal the fact that she was scared shitless. She hadn't said a word since they'd disarmed him and loaded him into the van next to her. She was smart. She probably knew they were all going to die. She was probably right.

Now they were driving southeast on Foothill Expressway. Ben didn't know why-they'd told Alex to meet them in Palo Alto, the opposite direction, and apparently Alex had agreed.

He'd had time to think, and understood at least some of what had happened. Hort must have given him up to the Russians. But why? Live or die, he was going to try to find out.

“How did you know it was me?” he said. “You knew he was my brother, but how did you put it together?”

There was a long pause, long enough so that Ben thought Hort wasn't going to answer. But then Hort turned and said, “I wanted to keep you out of it, for everyone's sake, including yours. But then you put in that weapons request for San Francisco, after I'd told you to stay put in Ankara. It was a concern. Just being cautious, we got into some of Alex's communications. He'd called Military OneSource, and the army perso

“It's not as though I had a choice.”

“That's exactly the point. There was nothing else you could have done. Blood is blood. But I didn't have a choice, either. I was responsible for a mission. And as understandable and inadvertent as your actions were, you made yourself a threat to that mission. For what it's worth, it was the hardest call I've ever had to make.”

“So you gave me up to the Russians?”

“What difference does it make how I decided to get it done? Yeah, I was taking heat from the usual suspects for your killing that damn Russian in Istanbul. Some people wanted to hang you out to dry.”

“So you did it for them.”

“Like I said, what difference does it make?”

Ben imagined Hort contacting some Russian counterpart, telling him, Hey, we found the rogue who killed your guy in Istanbul. It wasn't sanctioned. He's yours, if you want him. And here's where you can find him.

It made a kind of twisted sense. You placate the Russians, appease the bean counters, eliminate Alex's protection, and create a cutout and a diversion from what's really going on with an op that's spiraling out of control.

“I guess you're right,” Ben said, fighting back a bitterness that felt like the leading edge of despair. “But I should have seen it coming. You know why I didn't? I thought you were as loyal to me as I am to you.”

Hort looked down for a moment, then met Ben's eyes again. “I am loyal to you, son. I'm loyal to all my men. But my first loyalty is always to the mission. You know that.”

“Well, I know it now.”

“I wish it hadn't had to happen this way, Ben. I really do wish that.”

They came to San Antonio Road in Los Altos. One of the guys in back said, “Turn here.”

They made a left. What were they doing in Los Altos? And then he realized.

They were tracking Alex's cell phone signal. They must have had the equipment in back. Alex, goddamn it, I told you they could track you this way.

“This is it,” the guy behind him said. “Last place before the signal cut out.”

“Drive around,” Hort said. “We might spot his car.”

Ben let out a long breath. Thank God, Alex had thought to turn the damn thing off when he realized what was happening.

But all it meant was that Hort wouldn't be able to take him unawares here. Presumably, Alex was still going to show up at the parking garage.

They drove along Los Altos 's grid of streets, swinging in and out of parking lots. Every time they slowed in front of a dark M3, Ben felt his insides tighten with fear, but each time it wasn't Alex's.

After twenty minutes, the guy behind him said, “Wait, he's back online. In… Mountain View. Go down San Antonio and get on El Camino.”

What the hell was he doing? He'd turned the phone off; why would he turn it back on?

“Wait, he's moving,” the guy in back said. “Stay on San Antonio. Go to 101.”

“Where's he heading?” Hort said.

“ Palo Alto is my guess,” the guy in back said. “The garage. Looks like he's heading toward 101.”

Ben's phone rang. Hort picked up and said, “Hello.” There was a pause. “Good, we're on our way, too. Thanks for checking in. A half hour from now, we'll have this whole thing sorted out and you'll all be good to go.”

He clicked off. Alex must have gotten spooked that they'd been out of touch, and turned on the phone again to make sure everything was still copacetic.

“No, wait, he's taking Alma,” the guy in back said. “Still heading toward Palo Alto.” They swung off San Antonio onto the entrance ramp.

What the hell? Why wasn't Alex turning off the phone again?

Because he's driving. Jesus Christ, he thought they couldn't track him if he was moving? Ben tried to tamp down his anger. He couldn't expect Alex to know something like that. It wasn't his world. But goddamn it, they were going to take him by surprise, force him over to the side of the road, pull him into the van… If he'd been pla

They headed west on Alma, two lanes of traffic in each direction. The midday traffic was light, but there were enough cars to provide plenty of concealment for vehicular surveillance even against someone who was tail-conscious, which Alex most definitely was not.

“That him?” the driver said.

Ben leaned left and looked through the windshield, his heart thudding. It looked like Alex's car, but he wasn't sure.

“Get a little closer,” Hort said. “Just a little now.”