Chapter 7 - Six Hours
Arthur ended the call.
“No.”
Maeve stared at him.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You were about to offer yourself.”
“I was going to suggest—”
“No.”
“Stop deciding what I’m allowed to risk.”
Arthur turned.
“You don’t understand Hale.”
“And you don’t understand me.”
“I understand that people around me die.”
“That isn’t protection. That’s fear wearing a nice suit.”
Sal quietly left the room.
Arthur’s face tightened.
Maeve stepped closer.
“You want to save Michael?”
“Yes.”
“So do I.”
“I won’t trade you.”
“Then we don’t trade me.”
She pointed toward the laptop.
“We make them believe we will.”
The plan was reckless.
Arthur said so repeatedly.
Maeve agreed every time.
That did not stop them.
They sent Voss a message accepting the exchange.
Meanwhile, Sal traced the video signal to an abandoned courthouse scheduled for demolition.
Maeve would arrive wearing a transmitter.
Arthur’s people would surround the building.
Federal investigators who had quietly received portions of Patrick Nolan’s evidence would also be notified.
Arthur hated involving law enforcement.
Maeve reminded him that the alternative was continuing to solve every disagreement with armed men.
At 11:40 p.m., Maeve entered the courthouse alone.
Voss waited inside.
Michael was tied to a chair.
Victor Hale stood beside him.
Maeve had seen Hale on television hundreds of times.
He looked exactly the same.
Silver hair.
Perfect coat.
Grandfatherly smile.
“You have Patrick’s eyes,” Hale said.
Maeve’s stomach turned.
“You remember them?”
“I remember everyone who misunderstands power.”
“You murdered him.”
“I corrected a problem.”
Maeve wanted to attack him.
Instead, she remembered Arthur’s instructions.
Keep him talking.
Hale walked around her.
“Patrick could have been wealthy.”
“He preferred sleeping at night.”
“He slept permanently because of it.”
Maeve’s hands curled into fists.
Voss searched her.
He found no weapon.
The transmitter had been hidden inside the metal button of her coat.
Hale smiled.
“Password.”
“I don’t know it.”
His expression changed.
Michael groaned as Voss struck him.
Maeve flinched.
“I said I don’t know!”
Hale approached her.
“Your father designed it for you.”
Maeve thought about Patrick.
Swimming.
Summer cabins.
Baseball games.
Pancakes every Sunday.
Then she remembered something.
Her father had always said the same sentence whenever she became frightened.
Courage isn’t being unafraid, Maeve. It’s deciding something matters more.
She looked at Hale.
“I know the password.”
“Good.”
“But you don’t.”
Hale slapped her.
Arthur heard it through the transmitter.
Three blocks away, inside a surveillance vehicle, every muscle in his body locked.
Sal grabbed his shoulder.
“Not yet.”
Arthur’s eyes remained on the audio monitor.
Inside the courthouse, Maeve tasted blood.
She smiled at Hale.
“That all?”
His expression darkened.
Maeve had bought enough time.
Federal vehicles moved into position.
Arthur’s men sealed the rear exits.
Then Voss discovered the transmitter.
He ripped the button from Maeve’s coat.
Hale stared at it.
“You really are Patrick Nolan’s daughter.”
Everything happened at once.
Voss raised his gun.
Michael kicked the chair backward into him.
Maeve ran.
Gunfire erupted.
Arthur abandoned the plan.
He entered through the east corridor with Caesar and Sal behind him.
“Maeve!”
She heard him.
“Arthur!”
Voss grabbed her from behind.
His arm locked around her throat.
Arthur rounded the corner and stopped.
Voss pressed a gun against Maeve’s head.
Caesar growled.
Arthur lowered his weapon.
“Let her go.”
Voss laughed.
“You never learned, Arthur. Your father didn’t either. Everyone has a weakness.”
Arthur looked at Maeve.
Something passed silently between them.
Trust.
Maeve stomped backward on Voss’s foot and dropped.
Arthur moved.
Caesar struck Voss before he could fire.
The gun skidded away.
Arthur reached Maeve.
His hands moved over her face, shoulders, arms.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“Maeve.”
“I’m fine.”
For one second, Arthur pressed his forehead against hers.
Then Sal shouted.
“Hale!”
Victor Hale was escaping through the old judge’s chambers.
Arthur followed.
He cornered Hale on the courthouse roof.
Snow fell between them.
Hale stood against the ledge.
Arthur aimed his gun.
“You killed my brother.”
“Yes.”
“My father?”
“Eventually.”
“Patrick Nolan?”
Hale smiled.
“You already know.”
Arthur’s finger tightened on the trigger.
Hale spread his arms.
“Do it.”
Maeve reached the rooftop.
“Arthur.”
He did not look at her.
Hale laughed.
“She thinks she can change you.”
Maeve said nothing.
Arthur stared at the man responsible for decades of blood.
Then Daniel’s recorded voice returned to him.
End this. All of it.
Arthur lowered the gun.
Hale’s smile vanished.
Sirens surrounded the courthouse.
Arthur said quietly, “You don’t get to become another ghost.”
Federal agents came through the stairwell.
They arrested Victor Hale.
Maeve moved toward Arthur.
For the first time, she saw something unfamiliar in his expression.
Peace.
Then a gunshot sounded.
Arthur jerked.
Maeve screamed.
Leonard Voss stood in the stairwell behind the agents, bloodied but conscious, a stolen gun in his hand.
May you like
Arthur collapsed into Maeve’s arms.
And this time, the blood was his.
