“I’ve done everything I could in Maine, so I pulled a few strings and have come here to help coordinate the capture of Luke Rickard.”

Recalling his sour, raisin eyes from the first time we met, I noticed that he was less pinched now. In fact he looked genuinely pleased to see me back safe and sound. But there was still something about him I didn’t like. I shook his hand and kept hold.

“How’s Imogen?”

“She’s under guard at a safe house. You needn’t worry about her.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“She’s fine. A little shook up by her ordeal, but physically she’s okay.”

“Thanks,” I said. “For looking after her while I was gone.”

Finally I let his hand go and he put it in his trouser pocket like he didn’t know what to do with it. Maybe I’d been squeezing a little too tightly and he was discreetly checking for broken fingers.

Walter waved us into the limousine. Creaking horribly in my knees, I climbed inside. The leather upholstery was plush. It was a shame that my clothing was going to make a mess of it. I had to bunch over to allow Rink and Harvey in alongside me, but the car was big enough to accommodate even them—it was roomier than the Lakota helicopter, or maybe it just felt more comfortable. Walter, Bryce and Hubbard all sat in the seats in front. Walter hung an arm over the back of his chair so that he could look at us.

Walter’s famous for obfuscating—his word, not mine—but this time everything was in his favor to come clean and say it as it was. For a certain pair of ears, at any rate.

“I want to thank you all for what you did down there, but I’m going to have to ask you to stand down.” His eyes flicked once to Hubbard. “The FBI is taking over the hunt for Rickard now.”

Hubbard must have felt our eyes boring into the back of his skull, because he stirred, twisting around so he could stare back at us. “People are still dying here, and that’s my first concern.”

People? I didn’t know who he was referring to.

“The man you captured during the gunfight at the diner was stabbed to death last night,” he explained. “I’ve no doubt that his death was to cover the trail back to Jimena Grajales.”

I sniffed. No great loss.

“Maybe you don’t care about that,” Hubbard went on, “but this thing is not finished yet. Not until Rickard is captured. A threat to any citizens of our country is too important for the Bureau to ignore. Primarily, we have to protect Alisha Rickard and the other patients and medical staff from any harm. I’ve activated HRT and they will be in place to take out Rickard when he shows up.”