Page 33 of The Doubt Factory


  “911? This is Simon Banks. I’m at Banks Strategy Partners on K Street, and I’m seeing what look like gangbangers on the street.”

  “What are you doing?” Alix hissed.

  Moses shrugged. “Confusing the issue.” He went back to talking into the phone. “They’ve got… it looks like they’ve got automatic weapons of some kind. I don’t know who they are or what they’re doing, but we need the cops here, right now! Send SWAT! Hurry! It looks like they’re trying to break in!”

  Alix peered out the window. Vehicles were converging around the building now. Moses rolled his chair over and peered down. “Looks like Williams and Crowe isn’t worried about us noticing them now.”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’ll need to watch out for snipers,” Moses said. His voice was oddly flat as he pointed at the buildings across the street from them. “Once they get set up, they’ll be looking to shoot inside for sure.”

  “They aren’t actually going to shoot us! Who would authorize that?”

  Moses gave her a look. “Williams and Crowe would probably do anything to get a clean shot at me.”

  He peered out the window again. “Sure wish the cops would get here.”

  Alix didn’t like how calm he sounded. No, not calm—resigned.

  Alix pulled out her phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to try to buy us some more time.”

  The phone started ringing. “Pick up,” Alix whispered. “Go on. Pick up. You always have your phone.”

  She peered down at the increasing activity as Williams & Crowe set themselves up around the building. “This is real, isn’t it?”

  Moses glanced down at the lights as well. “Getting more and more that way.” He glanced over at her. “Not like the last time we threw a shindig like this.”

  Alix swallowed. “No. The bad guys have the right address this time.”

  The phone picked up.

  “Alix?”

  Dad’s voice.

  “Alix?”

  Lisa turned. Mr. Banks had his cell pressed to his ear.

  “Mr. Banks?”

  He cupped his palm over the phone’s receiver. “It’s Alix!”

  Lisa held out her hand. “Let me speak to her.”

  Banks ignored her and turned away. “Are you okay, honey? What are you doing?” Lisa pressed close, listening in. When he tried to shake her off, she glared at him. Finally, he relented and let her listen.

  “I’m fine, Dad.”

  “You’re in my office, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Alix. I don’t know what that boy’s been telling you—”

  “How could you, Dad?”

  “How could I what?”

  “You killed people, Dad.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It’s true, Dad. I’m looking at the files. All the companies you’ve worked for have been letting innocent people die. The drug companies and the asbestos companies. The lead companies. The chemical companies. It’s like every big name is here.”

  “Alix—”

  “They knew people would be dying, Dad. Kimball-Geier knew. You knew. You helped them with their strategy. People are dead because you helped them!”

  “It’s not like that, Alix.”

  “Dad, if Williams and Crowe tries to come in here, I’m going to make sure this goes on the news. I can send things out that only you would believe. You know what I’m looking at.”

  Banks waved at Lisa. “You need to back off! She’s threatening to release client files!”

  Lisa tried to get her hand on the phone. “Let me talk to her.”

  Banks shook her off again. “I’ll handle this!’ he whispered fiercely. “You just figure out how to get her out of there.”

  Lisa didn’t back down. “Your phone isn’t secure. You don’t know who else is listening. We have clients—”

  Banks brushed her off. “I know my business. Take care of yours. Get Alix out now. We don’t want to be the story here.”

  Lisa spun away, scowling. George Saamsi joined her as she strode across the lawn to her teams.

  “Do we have a problem?” he murmured.

  “Banks’s daughter is up to her neck in this. She’s not a kidnap victim this time. She’s the one who’s driving this.”

  Saamsi’s gaze went from Banks to Lisa, then to the response team.

  “She’s threatening to release client files,” Lisa said.

  In the distance, sirens wailed. Saamsi swore. “They’re going to try to turn this into a media circus. This is exactly what they love to do. In about ten minutes we’re going to be front-page news.”

  “Banks is trying to talk to her, but…” Lisa made a gesture of frustation. “I think we’ve got ten minutes before everything goes wrong. Our best bet is to hit them now. The longer we wait—”

  Saamsi cut her off. “I understand. It’s time to cut our losses.”

  “And that means?”

  Saamsi looked at her fiercely. “Protect our clients.”

  The sirens were growing louder.

  “And Alix?”

  “You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. Just make sure our clients stay out of the news. I don’t want a single whisper of our clients leaking out.”

  The first police department squad cars were arriving, along with ambulances.

  “This is going to turn into a jurisdictional nightmare in about two minutes,” Lisa warned.

  “So get it done.” Saamsi turned and started striding toward the police and rescue vehicles, holding up his hands with authority. “I’ll handle the cops,” he called back. “You just handle those kids.”

  Lisa was already jogging toward her team, thinking about how it needed to happen. She crouched down with Timmons, her strike leader. “What’s our situation?”

  Timmons said, “We’ve got all exits blocked. Elevator locked. Stairwells locked. We’ve got them bottled.”

  “I want you to go in.”

  “I’ve got thirty split in three go-teams—”

  “No.” She pulled Timmons closer. “This has to be quiet. Quick and fast and quiet.”

  Timmons frowned. “There are risks.”

  “There are more risks if you’ve got a lot of witnesses.”

  Timmons’s eyes widened. He hesitated. “These people armed?”

  Lisa gave him a hard look. “That’s the assumption. We’re proceeding under the assumption that these are unstable terrorists with knowledge of explosives, and we need to stop them, fast. We’re sure a fast resolution will save lives.”

  “A fast resolution,” Timmons repeated.

  “You understand?”

  He nodded sharply. “Elam and Mint and me, then. We can do it.”

  “Quietly.”

  He gave her a look of irritation. “I know my job.” He glanced over at Simon Banks. “The boss okay with this?”

  Lisa glanced back to where Banks was still on the phone, pleading with his daughter. Still under the impression that he could use all his persuasive skills to get her to undo decisions that had already been made.

  “He’s not the most important consideration anymore,” Lisa said. “As far as we’re concerned, we’ve got two armed intruders on BSP property who intend domestic terrorism. For all we know, they could have a suicide device. The next time I see them, I want body bags.”

  Two seconds after Alix hung up with her dad, the lights went out. Williams & Crowe had cut the electricity, and they were in the dark now, illuminated only by emergency battery lights that apparently even Williams & Crowe couldn’t get access to.

  “We need to hide!” Alix said.

  Moses looked up at her, his expression somber. “Oh yeah? Where?”

  “In…” Alix thought furiously, trying to come up with a way to escape.

  Moses smiled tightly at her lack of an answer. “I don’t have any more tricks up my sleeve, Alix. I should have had a backup plan for this, but I let
myself rush. I screwed this up.”

  “No. It was my fault. I pushed too fast.”

  There had to be some way to hide, or sneak past, to get down from the tenth floor.… Alix’s mind kept racing, but a more rational part of her knew that Moses was right. She was still just trying to believe. Making up fantasies that weren’t real. A little kid fantasy that kept her hoping, even though there was no hope left. The fantasy that if you were doing something for good, you were supposed to be rewarded for it.

  “It’s over,” Moses said. He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to her. “It’s over.” He looked up, his expression firming. “This doesn’t have to be you,” he said. “I can give myself up.”

  “No!”

  “Just hear me out! We can hide the drives.” He held up the duffel. “I can give myself up. I can tell them it was me who dragged you into this. I can convince them that you didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “I won’t do that, Moses.”

  “Why not? You could even come back later and get the drives. We can hide the drives, we can save the data—”

  “I’m not leaving you!”

  Moses glared at her with frustration. “Why not? You know they’re going to gas us! Maybe even shoot me if they get a chance. You need to get as far away from me as possible.” He put the bag down and started striding back toward the elevators, waving at her not to follow. “You stay back. Once they get me—”

  Alix stormed after him. “The hell I will!”

  “You don’t need to do this!” Moses said. “It’s not your fight! You can say I forced you. Say I brainwashed you! It’s me they want. So let me take the heat.” He reached the elevators and turned to face her. “Try to keep one of the drives and put it out later, maybe.” His voice turned pleading. Cajoling. “I can take the heat. We can’t hide, but you can hide the drives. You can maybe come back later and get one. You don’t have to go down for this.”

  Alix swallowed. It was so tempting. Just run away. Pretend it hadn’t happened…

  “No.”

  “But it’s not your fight!”

  “The hell it isn’t! If they’re taking you, they’re taking me, too. I’m not leaving you, and I’m not saying it was your idea. I got us into this. This was my fault. I got us into this.”

  “But—”

  “And it is my fight!” Alix fought back tears. “Don’t you dare ever say that it isn’t my fight!”

  Moses paused, taken aback at her outburst. All the argument went out of him. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “It is my fight,” she said with her face muffled in his chest. “We’re together.”

  “I know. I get it.”

  The number indicator on the elevator began changing.

  L… 1… 2…

  Alix dried her tears on the back of her hand. “Here they come.”

  3…

  4…

  Moses was staring into her eyes. “I…”

  Alix could feel her heart starting to pound. Williams & Crowe was coming, and all she cared about was Moses’s gaze. She pulled him down to kiss her. Kissed him again.

  6…

  “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

  “No, I’m sorry I got you into this.”

  He smiled at that.

  7…

  They both took an instinctive step back from the elevator.

  “Get ready,” Moses said.

  Alix felt him gripping her hand hard as she watched their fate count upward. She wanted to run. She wanted to believe there was an escape, even though she knew there wasn’t.

  “We need to get back,” she whispered. “We’re too close.”

  His hand was holding hers so hard it felt like it was going to break.

  9…

  Moses looked over at her one last time, and his eyes were filled with sadness and wonder and regret.

  10…

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  The elevator chimed.

  They were still holding hands as smoke enveloped them.

  42

  GUNFIRE RATCHETED FROM THE UPPER stories, distant pop-gun sounds. Glass shattered and spilled from a window, crashing to the street below. The gunfire cracked louder. Smoke began billowing out. Confused shouts echoed from the fire team in Lisa’s radio.

  “What’s our status?” Lisa demanded. “What’s our status? Did we get them?”

  More gunfire. A confused flurry of shouts.

  “Smoke bomb!… A-squad?… A-squad? Timmons? Door’s jammed! Ram it!”

  “What’s going on?” Lisa demanded.

  The squad com crackled alive with someone coughing. “No worries. We’ve got it under control. Our friends had a little surprise for us. We’ve got a couple people down. We sucked something nasty. We’ll need paramedics.”

  “What about our targets?”

  A small hesitation. “Looks like they’re going to need medics, too.”

  “What?” Lisa demanded. “They’re still alive? I’m going to have your ass—” She glanced over her shoulder at the street. FBI units were rolling up now. Nothing happened in DC without their taking interest.

  Worse and worse.

  She spun away and cupped her mouth to her com. “What the hell did I tell you?” she whispered fiercely.

  “Come on,” Timmons protested. “We got them already. They’re just kids.”

  Simon Banks was striding over, his face white.

  Lisa snagged George Saamsi. “They’re still alive,” she hissed.

  Saamsi’s eyes went from her to Banks. “Finish it,” he growled as he went to intercept his partner.

  “Clean up the mess,” Lisa murmured into her radio. “Do you understand? Clean it up.”

  News trucks were showing up now. The situation was turning into a goddamn media bloodbath. Worse, the FBI’s badges had gotten past her people’s blockades. Cops and FBI were swarming toward the building.

  “Cops are coming your way,” she said. “Finalize this.”

  “Is that an order?”

  “Yes, it’s a goddamn order, Timmons! Get rid of those kids!”

  Lisa waited, holding her breath. Come on, Timmons. Get it together.

  Gunfire cracked in her earpiece.

  Once. Twice.

  On the streets, everyone panicked and scattered for cover, but Lisa sagged with relief.

  Her com crackled alive again.

  “It’s done.”

  “Good,” she snapped. “Now clean up the scene and get the hell out of there.”

  All around her, the crime scene was crumbling into disarray. Cops and FBI and EMS and Williams & Crowe personnel all sorting through the confusion. Lisa watched with satisfaction as her people made themselves helpfully obstructionistic.

  Just a few more minutes.

  Med-tech people went in, but her strike teams managed to bog down the cops who had been trying to go in with them. Lisa suppressed a smile. There wouldn’t be much left for the cops to reconstruct by the time her people got done in there. It would pass. Timmons’s people knew how to clean up a crime scene.

  Lisa grabbed Saamsi. “It’s done. We’re clear.” She jerked her head toward the cops and FBI agents. “We’re going to need some political cover. Let our clients know. We need this to be forgotten.”

  “It’s clean?”

  “Just a couple of crazy activists with guns,” Lisa said.

  George got on his cell and started working through his contacts. Soon, phones would be ringing all over the city. Congressional offices, DC police headquarters, and the FBI would all be hearing from patrons and friends. The investigation would die. Someone in George’s contact list would take control of the investigation.

  And really, what was there to investigate? Tragedies happened all the time. This was just one more example of the radicalization of America. Some lunatic fringe who had drunk the Kool-Aid of Occupy Wall Street rhetoric and gone astray.


  An ambulance worker emerged from the building pushing a body bag on a stretcher. Another body followed. The cops started freaking about bodies being moved, which started a larger argument between Williams & Crowe, the cops, and the FBI. Simon Banks saw the body bags and gave a howl of anguish. He fought through the crowd. “Is that my daughter? Is that my daughter?”

  He lunged for a body bag, fumbling at the zipper.

  “Sir! Sir! Don’t!”

  Lisa reached the crowd just as Banks got the bag open. He collapsed, sobbing. Alix Banks lay disheveled and blood-soaked inside the black body bag. Pale and gone. An empty husk. Lisa felt a moment of regret.

  Sorry, kid. It didn’t have to be this way.

  Banks was clawing at his daughter’s body.

  “Alix!”

  His hands scrabbled in his daughter’s blood. He clutched at her corpse, trying to hold her to him. Lisa was afraid he was going to knock over the stretcher with his crazed grief. She tried to restrain him, but he shook her off with a wild strength. It took her and George Saamsi to finally pull him away.

  “Simon! Simon! Let them do their work,” George soothed.

  News cameras were snapping pictures. We don’t need to be the story. Lisa waved frantically for the EMS people to keep going.

  “I’m sorry. Mr. Banks?” She tugged at his shoulder. “There are news cameras. This is starting to turn into an even bigger problem.”

  Banks wheeled on her. “What did you do to my daughter?” He took a wild swing, and Lisa leaped back. She could practically feel the flashes of the photojournalists as they caught the scene.

  George managed to drag him back. “Alix had a gun, Simon!” His voice was urgent. “It’s a terrible, terrible tragedy, I know. I’m so sorry about your daughter, but there’s nothing Lisa—or anyone—could do.” His voice turned soothing again. “What were they supposed to do? She was with a wanted terrorist, and they were armed.…” And then, following up, using the words a fellow PR man would understand. “There are cameras running, Simon. We can’t become the story here. We need to be going. You need to grieve in private.”

  Lisa had to hand it to him—George Saamsi was good. She left him to deal with the shattered father and went to see what else she could do to cover up the damage.