Die Trying by Lee Child

missing.”

EIGHT

BY MIDNIGHT IN CHICAGO THE THIRD-FLOOR CONFERENCE ROOM WAS set up as a

command center. FBI technicians had swarmed all evening, running phone

lines into the room and installing computer terminals in a line down

the center of the hardwood table. Now at midnight it was dark and cool

and quiet. Shiny blackness outside the wall of glass. No scramble to

decide which side of the table was better.

Nobody had gone home. There were seventeen agents sprawled in the

leather chairs. Even the Bureau lawyer was still there. No real

reason for that, but the guy was feeling the same triple-layered

response they all were. The Bureau looks after its own. That was

layer number one. The Chicago Field Office looks after Holly Johnson.

That was layer number two. Not just because of her connections. That

had nothing to do with it. Holly was Holly. And layer number three

was what McGrath wanted, McGrath got. If McGrath was worried about

Holly, then they all were worried, and they all were going to stay

worried until she was found, safe and sound. So they were all still

there. Quiet, and worried. Until McGrath came loudly and cheerfully

into the room, making a big entrance, smoking like his life depended on

it.

“Good news, people, listen up, listen up,” he called out.

He dodged his way through to the head of the table. Murmuring died

into sudden silence. Eighteen pairs of eyes, followed him.

“We found her,” he called out. “We found her, OK? She’s safe and

well. Panic’s over, folks. We can all relax now.”

Eighteen voices started talking all at once. All asking the same

urgent questions. McGrath held his hands up for quiet, like a nominee

at a rally.

“She’s in the hospital,” he said. “What happened is her surgeon got a

window for this afternoon he wasn’t expecting. He called her, she went

right over, they took her straight to the OR. She’s fine, she’s

convalescing, and she’s embarrassed as all hell for the fuss she’s

caused.”

The eighteen voices started up again, and McGrath let them rumble on

for a moment. Then he held his hands up again.

“So, panic over, right?” he called out again, smiling.

The rumbling got lighter in tone as relief fueled the voices.

“So, people, home to bed,” McGrath said. “Full working day tomorrow,

right? But thanks for being here. From me, and from Holly. Means a

lot to her. Brogan and Milosevic, you stay awhile, share out her

workload for the rest of the week. The rest of you, goodnight, sleep

well, and thanks again, gentlemen.”

Fifteen agents and the lawyer smiled and yawned and stood up. Jostled

cheerfully and noisily out of the room. McGrath and Brogan and

Milosevic were left scattered in random seats, far from each other.

McGrath walked over in the sudden silence to the door. Closed it

quietly. Turned back and faced the other two.

That was all bullshit,” he said. “As I’m sure you both guessed.”

Brogan and Milosevic just stared at him.

“Webster called me,” McGrath said. “And I’m sure you can both guess

why. Major, major DC involvement. They’re going ape shit down there.

V.I.P kidnap, right? Webster’s been given personal responsibility. He

wants total secrecy and minimum numbers. He wants everybody up here

off this case right now except me plus a team of two. My choice. I

picked the two of you because you know her best. So it’s the three of

us. We deal direct with Webster, and we don’t talk to anybody else at

all, OK?”

Brogan stared at him and nodded. Milosevic nodded in turn. They knew

they were the obvious choices for the job. But to be chosen by McGrath

for any reason was an honor. They knew it,

and they knew McGrath knew they knew it. So they nodded again, more

firmly. Then there was silence for a long moment. McGrath’s cigarette

smoke mingled with the silence up near the ceiling. The clock on the

wall ticked around toward half past midnight.

“OK,” Brogan said finally. “So what now?”

“We work all night, is what,” McGrath said. “All day, all night, every

day, every night, until we find her.”