but they had to run.
He went, barefoot and silent, from room to room without turning on any lights. There was half a moon that night, and as he looked out every window in its turn, he could spot no one. He went back to the bedroom, where Lauren was sitting up in bed. “It’s time to go,” he said.
“Teddy, are you sure? Do you know something I don’t?”
“No, I’m not sure. The only way to be sure is if someone sticks a pistol in my ear and cuffs me. And I don’t know anything you don’t, except that I do. I just do.”
“All right,” she said.
“Are you with me, sweetie?” he asked. “You can always bail out, if you’re tired of this.”
“I’m with you,” she said. “I’m not tired of you.”
“All right,” Teddy said, looking at the luminous hands on his watch. “We have to be out of here in one hour—say, three o‘clock. That’s an hour and five minutes. Start with what you absolutely cannot bear to leave behind, then widen your circle to include the less essential but important. We’re not going to turn on any lights. We’re going to load the car with the garage door closed and head out.”
Lauren started dressing.
Teddy started with his computer equipment—a MacBook Air—and his printer, and two magic boxes he had built himself and was thinking about marketing. He could forge any document, break into any database, with those. He always kept the original packaging for important things, and he located the boxes and manuals in the dark. Next came his tool kits and weapons—a silenced sniper rifle in a briefcase that he had designed and made for the CIA during the twenty-odd years he had served in the Agency’s Technical Services department. They didn’t know that he had made a duplicate rifle for himself.
He went to the sixty-inch safe, opened it, and took out the handguns and the cash. He already had cases ready for everything. He loaded all these things and put them into the SUV, then he climbed on top of the vehicle and unscrewed the bulb that normally came on when the garage door opened.
He went back to the bedroom and began throwing clothes into a suitcase. “How are you coming?” he asked.
“Pretty well,” she replied, packing a bag. “I’ll be ready by three.”
“Sooner, if you can,” he said, handing her a pair of latex gloves and pulling some on himself. “I’m going to start wiping down the house.”
He started with the bedroom, then went to the bath and kitchen, then to the rest of the house, spraying things with alcohol-and-water window cleaner and wiping with a clean dishcloth. When he finished, Lauren’s things were in the SUV, and she was ready. They got into the car.
“Ready?” he asked, handing her a SIG Sauer P239. “There’s one in the chamber.”
“Ready,” she said.
He switched off the auto-on interior lights. He touched the remote control, and the garage door rose silently. He had aligned and greased it carefully for such a moment. “Let’s give it a push,” he said.
They both opened their doors and got the vehicle rolling, then got back in. As the car rolled down the driveway, he touched the remote again to close the garage door. He had chosen the house, in part, because of the hill, and now the car rolled noiselessly down the street. He was two blocks away before he started the engine, then he used as little power as possible for another three blocks, checking the mirrors constantly for another moving vehicle. Nothing. He finally switched on the headlights.
They drove out to Montgomery Field, eight miles north of San Diego, to a never-used back gate that Teddy had cut the lock and chain off and substituted his own combination padlock. Lauren unlocked the gate and opened it, then closed and relocked it when Teddy had driven through.
The field was dark, except for the runway and taxiway lighting. Teddy drove to their hangar, parked, and unlocked the hangar and opened the door. The two of them pushed the Cessna 182 RG out onto
He went, barefoot and silent, from room to room without turning on any lights. There was half a moon that night, and as he looked out every window in its turn, he could spot no one. He went back to the bedroom, where Lauren was sitting up in bed. “It’s time to go,” he said.
“Teddy, are you sure? Do you know something I don’t?”
“No, I’m not sure. The only way to be sure is if someone sticks a pistol in my ear and cuffs me. And I don’t know anything you don’t, except that I do. I just do.”
“All right,” she said.
“Are you with me, sweetie?” he asked. “You can always bail out, if you’re tired of this.”
“I’m with you,” she said. “I’m not tired of you.”
“All right,” Teddy said, looking at the luminous hands on his watch. “We have to be out of here in one hour—say, three o‘clock. That’s an hour and five minutes. Start with what you absolutely cannot bear to leave behind, then widen your circle to include the less essential but important. We’re not going to turn on any lights. We’re going to load the car with the garage door closed and head out.”
Lauren started dressing.
Teddy started with his computer equipment—a MacBook Air—and his printer, and two magic boxes he had built himself and was thinking about marketing. He could forge any document, break into any database, with those. He always kept the original packaging for important things, and he located the boxes and manuals in the dark. Next came his tool kits and weapons—a silenced sniper rifle in a briefcase that he had designed and made for the CIA during the twenty-odd years he had served in the Agency’s Technical Services department. They didn’t know that he had made a duplicate rifle for himself.
He went to the sixty-inch safe, opened it, and took out the handguns and the cash. He already had cases ready for everything. He loaded all these things and put them into the SUV, then he climbed on top of the vehicle and unscrewed the bulb that normally came on when the garage door opened.
He went back to the bedroom and began throwing clothes into a suitcase. “How are you coming?” he asked.
“Pretty well,” she replied, packing a bag. “I’ll be ready by three.”
“Sooner, if you can,” he said, handing her a pair of latex gloves and pulling some on himself. “I’m going to start wiping down the house.”
He started with the bedroom, then went to the bath and kitchen, then to the rest of the house, spraying things with alcohol-and-water window cleaner and wiping with a clean dishcloth. When he finished, Lauren’s things were in the SUV, and she was ready. They got into the car.
“Ready?” he asked, handing her a SIG Sauer P239. “There’s one in the chamber.”
“Ready,” she said.
He switched off the auto-on interior lights. He touched the remote control, and the garage door rose silently. He had aligned and greased it carefully for such a moment. “Let’s give it a push,” he said.
They both opened their doors and got the vehicle rolling, then got back in. As the car rolled down the driveway, he touched the remote again to close the garage door. He had chosen the house, in part, because of the hill, and now the car rolled noiselessly down the street. He was two blocks away before he started the engine, then he used as little power as possible for another three blocks, checking the mirrors constantly for another moving vehicle. Nothing. He finally switched on the headlights.
They drove out to Montgomery Field, eight miles north of San Diego, to a never-used back gate that Teddy had cut the lock and chain off and substituted his own combination padlock. Lauren unlocked the gate and opened it, then closed and relocked it when Teddy had driven through.
The field was dark, except for the runway and taxiway lighting. Teddy drove to their hangar, parked, and unlocked the hangar and opened the door. The two of them pushed the Cessna 182 RG out onto
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