The Winner

think her highness will be living in another trailer.”

Berman nodded, pulled out a portable phone, and went to confer with the local FBI agents who had accompanied them here.

Masters ran his eyes around Riggs’s office. He was wondering how Riggs fit into all this. He had it nice here, new life, new career, peaceful, lot of good years left to live. But now? Masters had been at the White House meeting with the president, the attorney general, and the director of the FBI. As Masters had outlined his theory, he had watched each of their faces go sickly pale. A scandal of horrific proportions. The government lottery, fixed. The American people would believe that their own government had done it to them. How could they not? The president had publicly announced his support for the lottery, even appeared in a TV commercial touting it. So long as the billions flowed in, and a few lucky people were elevated to millionaire status, who cared?

The concept of the lottery had received attacks claiming that what it spent on furthering the public welfare was largely negated by what it cost in others: breakup of families, gambling addiction, making poor people even poorer, causing people to eschew hard work and industriousness for the unrealistic dream of winning the lottery. One critic had said it was much like inner city kids striving for the NBA instead of an MBA. However, the lottery had remained bulletproof from those attacks.

If it came out, however, that the game was fixed, then the bullets would rapidly shatter that bubble. There would be a tremendous blood-letting and everyone from the president on down was going to take a major hit. As Masters had sat in the Oval Office he saw that clearly in all their features: the FBI director, the nation’s top lawman; the attorney general, the nation’s top lawyer; the president, the number one of all. The responsibility would fall there and it would fall heavily. So Masters had been given explicit instructions: Bring in LuAnn Tyler, at any cost and by any means possible. And he intended to do just that.





“How’s it feel?”

Riggs climbed slowly into the car. His right arm was in a sling. “Well, they gave me enough painkillers to where I’m not sure I can feel anything.”

LuAnn put the car in gear and they sped out onto the highway.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“McDonald’s. I’m starving and I can’t remember the last time I had a Big Mac and fries. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

She pulled into the drive-through of a McDonald’s, ordering some burgers, fries, and two coffees.

They ate as they drove. Riggs put down his coffee, wiped his mouth, and nervously fingered the dashboard with his good arm. “So tell me, how badly did I screw things up for you?”

“Matthew, I’m not blaming you.”

“I know,” he said sheepishly. He slapped the seat. “I thought you were walking into a trap.”

She stared over at him. “And why’s that?”

Riggs looked out the window for a long moment before answering. “Right after you left I got a call.”

“Is that right. Who from, and what did it have to do with me?”

He sighed deeply. “Well, for starters, my name’s not Matthew Riggs. I mean it’s been my name for the last five years, but it’s not my real name.”

“Well, at least we’re even on that score.”

He said with a forced grin, “Daniel Buckman.” He held out his hand. “My friends call me Dan.”

LuAnn didn’t take it. “You’re Matthew to me. Do your friends also know that technically you’re dead and that you’re in the Witness Protection Program?”

Riggs slowly withdrew his hand.

She flipped him an impatient look. “I told you that Jackson can do anything. I wish you’d start believing me.”

“I was betting he was the one who tapped into my file. That’s why I followed you. If he knew about me, I didn’t know how he’d react. I thought he might kill you.”

“That’s always a possibility with the man.”

“I got a good look at him.”

LuAnn was exasperated. “That wasn’t his real face. Dammit, it’s never his real face.” She thought of the rubbery flesh she had held. She had seen his real face. His real face. She knew what that meant. Jackson would now do everything in his power to kill her.

She slid her hands nervously over the steering wheel. “Jackson said you were a criminal. So what’d you do?”

“Are you telling me you believe everything that guy says to you? Just in case you didn’t notice, he’s a psycho. I haven’t seen eyes like that since they executed Ted Bundy.”

“Are you saying you’re not in Witness Protection?”

“No. But the program isn’t just for the bad guys.”

She looked at him, puzzled. “What does that mean?”

“Do you think criminals can pick up the phone and get the sort of info I got on you?”

“I don’t know, why can’t they?”

“Pull over.”

“What?”

“Just pull the damn car over!”

LuAnn turned into a parking lot and stopped the car.

Riggs leaned over and pulled out the listening device from under LuAnn’s seat. “I told you I had bugged your car.” He held up the sophisticated device. “Let me tell you, they almost never give out equipment like this to felons.”

LuAnn looked at him, her eyes wide.

Riggs took a deep breath. “Up until five years ago, I was a special agent with the FBI. I’d like to think a very special agent. I worked undercover infiltrating gangs operating both in Mexico and along the Texas border. These guys were into everything from extortion to drugs to murder for hire; you name it, they were doing it. I lived and breathed with that scum for a year. When we busted the case open, I was the lead witness for the prosecution. We knocked out the entire operation, sent a bunch of them to prison for life. But the big bosses in Colombia didn’t take all that kindly to my depriving them of about four hundred million a year in disposable income from the drug operation component. I knew how badly they’d want me. So I did the brave, honorable thing. I asked to disappear.”

“And?”

“And the Bureau turned me down. They said I was too valuable in the field. Too experienced. They did have the courtesy to set me up in another town, in another gig. A desk job for a while.”

“So there was no wife. That was all made up.”

Riggs rubbed his injured arm again. “No, I was married. After I relocated. Her name was Julie.”

LuAnn said very quietly, “Was?”

Riggs shook his head slowly and took a weary sip on his coffee. The steam from the liquid fogged the window and he traced his real initials in it, forming the D and the B for Dan Buckman with great care as though doing it for the very first time. “Ambush on the Pacific Coast Highway. Car went over the cliff with about a hundred bullet holes in it. Julie was killed by the gunfire. I took two slugs; somehow neither of them hit any vitals. I was thrown clear of the car, landed on a ledge. Those were the scars you saw.”

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Matthew.”

“Guys like me, we probably shouldn’t get married. It wasn’t something I was looking for. It just happened. You know, you meet, you fall in love, you want to get married. You expect everything to sort of click after that. Things that you know might come up to ruin it, you sort of will them away. If I had resisted that impulse, Julie would still be alive and teaching first grade.” He looked down at his hands as he spoke. “Anyway, that was when the brilliant higher-ups at the Bureau decided I just might want to retire and change my identity. Officially, I died in the ambush. Julie’s six feet under in Pasadena and I’m a general contractor in safe, pastoral Charlottesville.” He finished his coffee. “Or at least it used to be safe.”

LuAnn slid her hand across the front seat and took his in a firm grip.

He squeezed back and said, “It’s tough wiping out so many years of your life. Trying not to think about it, forgetting people and places, things that were so important to you for so long. Always afraid you’re going to slip up.” He stared at her. “It’s damn tough,” he said wearily.

She raised her hand up and stroked his face. “I never realized how much we had in common,” she said.

“Well, here’s another one.” He paused for a second as their eyes locked. “I hadn’t been with a woman since Julie.”

They kissed tenderly and slowly.

“I want you to know,” Riggs said, “that that wasn’t the reason this morning happened. I’ve had other opportunities over the years. I just never felt like doing anything about them.” He added quietly, “Until you.”

She traced his jaw line with her index finger and then her finger curled up to his lips. “I’ve had other chances too,” she said. They kissed again and then their bodies instinctively embraced and held tightly like two pieces from a mold, joined at last. They sat and rocked together for several minutes.

When they finally pulled away, Riggs checked the parking lot, refocusing on the present situation.

“Let’s get to your house, pack some clothes, and whatever else you need. Then we’ll go to my house and I’ll do the same. I left the notes I made from my phone calls about you on my desk. I don’t want to leave a trail for anyone.”

“There’s a motel off twenty-nine about four miles north of here.”

“That’s a start.”

“So, what do you think Jackson’s going to do now?”

“He knows I lied about you. He has to assume I lied about Donovan. Since I have every reason not to reveal the truth and Donovan is trying his best to do that, Jackson will go after him first and me second. I called Donovan and left a message warning him.”

“Boy, that’s real encouraging, being number two on Master Psycho’s hit list,” Riggs said, tapping his hand against the gun in his pocket.

A few minutes later they pulled up the private drive to Wicken’s Hunt. The house was dark. LuAnn parked in front and she and Riggs got out. LuAnn punched in the home’s security code and they went inside.

Riggs sat alertly on the bed while LuAnn stuffed some things in a small travel bag.

“You’re sure Lisa and Charlie are okay?”

“As sure as I can be. They’re far away from here. And him. That can only be a good thing.”

Riggs went over to the window that overlooked the front drive. What he saw coming up the driveway made his knees buckle for an instant. Then he snatched LuAnn by the hand and they were racing down the stairs and out the rear entrance.





The black sedans stopped in front of the house and the men quickly scrambled out. George Masters laid a hand on the BMW’s hood and immediately scanned the area. “It’s warm. She’s here somewhere. Find her.” The men fanned out and surrounded the house.





LuAnn and Riggs were racing past the horse barn and were headed into the deep woods when LuAnn pulled up.

Riggs stopped too, clutching at his arm, sucking in air. They were both trembling.

“What are you doing?” he gasped.

She motioned toward the horse barn. “You can’t run with that arm. And we can’t just go floundering around in the woods.”

They entered the horse barn. Joy immediately started to make some noise and LuAnn quickly darted over and soothed the animal. While LuAnn readied their mount, Riggs pulled a pair of binoculars off the wall and went outside. Setting up in some thick bushes that hid the horse barn from the house, Riggs focused the binoculars. He automatically jerked back as he saw, under the floodlights that fully illuminated the entire rear lawn, the man moving across the back of the house, rifle in hand and the letters “FBI” emblazoned across his jacket. The next sight made Riggs mutter under his breath. It was five years since he had seen the man. George Masters hadn’t changed much. The next instant the men disappeared from view as they entered the house.

Riggs hustled back to the horse barn where LuAnn was checking the cinches on the saddle. She patted Joy’s neck, whispering calming words to the horse as she slid on the bridle.

“You ready?” she asked Riggs.

“Better be. As soon as they find the house empty, they’re going to check the grounds. They know we’re around somewhere — the car’s engine would’ve still been warm.”

LuAnn planted a wooden crate next to Joy, swung up, and reached out a hand for Riggs. “Step on the crate and hold on tight to me.”

Riggs managed to struggle up in this fashion, clutching his arm as he did so. He planted his good arm around LuAnn’s waist.

“I’ll go as slow as I can, but it’s going to jostle you a lot regardless. Horseback riding does that.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll take a little pain to having to try and explain everything to the FBI.”

As they started off on the trail LuAnn said, “So that’s who it was? Your old friends?” Riggs nodded.

“At least one old friend in fact. Used to be a friend anyway. George Masters. He’s the one at the Bureau who said I was too valuable in the field, who wouldn’t let me enter Witness Protection until my wife was dead.”

“Matthew, it’s not worth it. There’s no reason you should be running from them, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Look, LuAnn, it’s not like I owe those guys anything.”

“But if I’m caught and you’re with me?”

“Well, we just won’t get caught.” He grinned.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking how bored I’d been the last few years. I guess I’m not really happy unless I’m doing something where I have a reasonable shot at getting my head blown off. I might as well own up to it.”

“Well, you picked the right person to hang with then.” She looked up ahead. “The motel’s probably out of the question.”

“Yep, they’ll cover every place like that. Besides, riding up on a horse might make the motel manager suspicious.”

“I’ve got another car back at the house, fat lot of good that’ll do us.”

“Wait a minute. We do have a car.”

“Where?”

“We’ve got to get to the cottage, pronto.”





When they arrived at the cottage, Riggs said, “Keep a sharp eye out in case you know who decided to come back.” He opened up the doors to the rear shed and went inside. In the darkness, LuAnn couldn’t see what he was doing. Then she heard a motor turn over and then die. Then it kicked over again and this time it kept running. A moment later, Donovan’s black Honda, torn-up front bumper and all, appeared in the doorway. Riggs pulled it to a stop outside the shed doors and climbed out.

“What do you want to do with the horse?”

LuAnn looked around. “I could send her back up the trail. She’d probably go back to the horse barn on her own, but in the dark like this, she might miss the trail or wander off and fall in a hole or maybe the creek.”

“How about we put her in the shed and then you can call somebody to come get her?” he offered.

“Good idea.” She swung down and led Joy inside the shed.

She looked around and noted the watering trough, tack wall, and two small bales of hay stored in the back of the shed.

“It’s perfect. The tenant before Donovan must have kept a horse and used this as a stable.”

Lifting off the saddle and slipping off the horse’s bridle, LuAnn tethered Joy to a hook on the wall with a piece of rope she found. LuAnn scrounged up a bucket and, using water from the outside tap, she filled up the watering trough, and laid out the hay in front of Joy. The horse immediately dipped her head to the trough and then started to munch on the hay. LuAnn shut the doors and climbed in the driver’s seat of the Honda while Riggs eased in the other side.

There was no key in the ignition. LuAnn glanced under the steering column and saw a bundle of exposed wires hanging down. “They teach hot wiring at the FBI?”

“You learn a lot of things going through life.”

She put the car in gear. “Tell me about it.”