Page 111

Koenig woke forty-five minutes older. Draper was shaking him by the shoulder. She wasn’t being gentle.

‘We’re about to land,’ she said. ‘And you’ve been drooling on my cushions.’

He felt groggy. Worse than before he’d gone to sleep. He reached for a bottle of water and swilled some around his mouth. Pushed it between his teeth. Sucked it back in. It didn’t help. His throat was dry, like he’d swallowed dust. He needed a shower and a shave. A change of clothes. Definitely some mouthwash.

‘Nothing from Smerconish?’ he said.

Draper shook her head. ‘Not yet.’

‘He should have used more drones.’

‘You’d better put your seat belt on.’ The cell phone she was holding buzzed. She looked at the screen. ‘Speaking of the drone Nazi,’ she said. She tapped the green phone icon. ‘Sir?’

Smerconish talked; Draper listened. She said, ‘Five minutes,’ and ended the call.

‘Courtesy call?’ Koenig said.

‘Seems Smerconish knows more about drone surveillance than we do,’ she said.

‘He’s found Tas?’

‘He has.’

‘Where?’

‘Lake Mead.’

Koenig shared a glance with Carlyle. She shrugged. Koenig understood why. Making Lake Mead’s water undrinkable could trigger a mass migration; she just didn’t think it could be done.

‘That seemed a bit too easy,’ he said.

‘Smerconish says Tas isn’t exactly hiding. He’s not skulking in an inlet. He’s made no attempt to change the NorseBoat’s appearance. And get this, there was a guy at the lake who told Tas he couldn’t leave his vehicle on the shore after he’d gotten the boat into the water. Said it was against regulations. Tas threw him the keys and told him he could keep it. A brand-new Lincoln Navigator. Less than a thousand miles on the clock. Worth a hundred grand of anyone’s money.’

‘He wants us to know where he is.’

‘Smerconish doesn’t think that. He thinks Tas doesn’t realise we’re on to him.’

‘No, that’s what we’re supposed to think,’ Koenig said. ‘It’s misdirection again. Everything has been misdirection. Everything. The breadcrumbs he left in New Silloth, the bodies he dropped in San Diego – everything has been about getting that boat on to Lake Mead. And making sure we found him.’

‘No argument from me. He’s acting like he wants to be noticed.’

‘What’s he doing now?’

‘Nothing,’ Draper said. ‘Looks like he’s dropped anchor.’

Koenig didn’t answer. He shared another glance with Carlyle. She seemed as confused as he was. If Tas had found a way to poison the lake, why hadn’t he already done it? Unless he wanted to do a spot of fishing, there was no reason for him to wait. And once again, Koenig felt he was missing something. Like he was playing chess against a child prodigy. Each time he thought he had a shot at the king, he was put back in check. And when he thought he was winning, he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Koenig didn’t think Tas had gotten complacent. He thought Tas knew exactly what he was doing. That meant if Tas was chilling in the middle of Lake Mead, he wanted to be seen chilling in the middle of Lake Mead.

‘Smerconish says the NorseBoat’s lying low in the water,’ Draper continued. ‘That it seems heavier than it should be. His advisers think it’s because it’s packed with explosives.’

‘Don’t tell me; they think he’s going dynamite fishing?’

‘Not exactly,’ Draper said. ‘They think Tas is waiting until it’s dark.’

‘Then?’

‘Then he’s going to make a run at the Hoover Dam.’

Not out of left field.

Not even close.