Page 56

“I know,” Vesper said. “Which is why you need to be on that train.”
“When does it leave?”
“Seven.”
Reggie checked his watch. That was in ten minutes.
“Why don’t I just arrest them?” he said.
“Because the Chicago bureau won’t know for certain if any of them did anything wrong until they sort through all of this evidence. That’s going to take all night. Just get on that train and make sure none of those six people get off it before Chicago.”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it,” Vesper said. “Don’t get involved. Don’t interfere. Just stay out of the way and observe.”
Reggie bolted for the door, coming to a stop right on the threshold as doubt crept in. He shouldn’t be the one doing this. Another, more experienced agent should go in his place.
“Sir, are you sure I’m the right man for this job?” he said.
Vesper surveyed the empty desks and corner offices with their lights out and blinds drawn. “Right now, you’re the only man here.”
“But—”
“Just get on that damn train,” Vesper snapped.
As Reggie grabbed his things and hustled out the door, his boss shouted one last order at his back.
“Oh, and don’t let anyone know who you really are. If word gets out there’s a fed onboard, all hell is going to break loose.”
It’s broken loose anyway, despite Reggie following his orders. Now he has no choice but to come clean, especially to the woman who organized the chaos. And she appears none too happy to be told the truth.
“You’re with the FBI?” she says after closing the door between the cars so that it’s just her, Reggie, Seamus, and the dead body of Edith Gerhardt.
“I am.”
“And yet you said nothing. You did nothing. Even after someone was murdered.”
Reggie feels a twinge of irritation on the back of his neck. An angry itch. “One, I didn’t know what the hell I was walking into. All I knew is that there was a dead body on the floor and a bunchof people who might try to off me next if they knew I was a fed. Two, my orders are only to make sure they arrive in Chicago. I was told not to get involved or interfere.”
“Well, you didn’t,” Anna says. “And now another person is dead.”
“Don’t try and pin this on me, lady,” Reggie says, getting even more annoyed. The irritated flush has spread to his face. He feels its heat on his cheeks. “None of this is my fault. I’m not the one who had the bright idea to invite a group of killers on a thirteen-hour train ride. This plan of yours mucked things up big-time. If these people are as nefarious as you say—”
“They are,” Anna says.
“Then you should have come directly to the FBI. We would have taken care of things for you.”
Anna Matheson crosses her arms, indignant. “The last time the authorities took care of things, my father was unjustly arrested and murdered in prison.”
“I get that,” Reggie says. “It still doesn’t mean you should have taken matters into your own hands. I mean, what if one of them somehow managed to get off this train and escape?”
“I made sure that wouldn’t happen.”
“No, instead they’re killing each other. Which a lot of folks would have no problem with. Most people would say them being murdered is the perfect form of justice.”
“Not me,” Anna says.
“Why do you get to decide that? What about the families of those soldiers killed alongside your brother? Shouldn’t they have a say in all this? I’m sure some of them would gladly murder the likes of Sally Lawrence or Jack Lapsford with their bare hands.”