“Gotta be in position before Dubois gets here.” He looked at me. “Everything will be ready. It goes bad—”

“I bolt. You cover me. I got it.” I touched his arm. “I really do.”

He nodded, then everyone left. And I was alone.

Four o’clock, and the press conference, came very quickly. The furnished house had a television, so I tuned in. The conference took place in town, and was open to both media and locals. Wilkes would be there, if not in the audience, then close enough to overhear everything, anxious for firsthand news on his witness.

Dubois played his part perfectly. It started as a “no news to report” update, then he received an emergency call about the witness. After relaying the news to the press corps and the assembled audience of locals, he whispered something to the agent beside him, probably telling him to take over, excused himself and left.

I turned off the TV. Now my waiting began. Evelyn had instructed Dubois to get into his car and start driving. Felix would already be hidden in the backseat with the directions. Giving them to Dubois early would have been asking for trouble.

The route was as uncomplicated as we could make it, so Wilkes could follow. Dubois was instructed to “drive normally,” that is, not to speed and risk losing him, but not to go too slowly and look suspicious. He was presumably en route to meet a critical witness. He wouldn’t dawdle. Meanwhile, Evelyn would be tailing him, providing countersurveillance, should any agents or members of the press decide to follow Dubois. If they did, that could delay his arrival even more…if not permanently abort the plan.

Should everything work out, my cue would come when the front door handle turned, signaling that Dubois was there. Then he’d hurry back to the car, as if he’d forgotten something, and I’d be on, waiting for my big moment.

There was no sense trying to figure out how long it would take Dubois to get here. Overestimate and I’d be caught off guard. Underestimate and I’d start worrying that something had gone wrong.

I adjusted the police scanner in the living room. It wasn’t tuned to the frequency the Feds were using. Even if we could find that, we didn’t need to. The scanner was just a prop, set slightly off station so Wilkes could hear police-type chatter, but static choked out the words.