Page 117 of The House of Cross

“I’ve had the security package delivered to each of you, including timetables and location changes for all nine justices during the course of the day,” the high court’s marshal began. “I’ve also noted the locations where the justices will transfer vehicles and travel in threes to the Capitol with their spouses following.”

That had all of our interest. “Why threes?” Mahoney asked.

“Capitol Hill police asked us to limit the number of vehicles because of the crush to get all dignitaries through the garages and up to the western front of the building. Only the president and the president-elect and their entourages will enter aboveground on the east side.”

Zhang called up a map and showed us where the Supreme Court justices lived and the routes they would take to the three rendezvous points outside DC, where they would transfer to armored limousines. She proposed a doubling of the detail assigned to each of the limos, and Director Hamilton readily agreed, giving her one of the Bureau’s top counterterrorism teams already on standby for the inauguration.

“Thank you,” Zhang said. “Anything more I can do?”

Mahoney said, “Patch us into your comms? We’ll be working different angles, but I think we all want to be in close touch.”

The marshal agreed, took down our cell phone numbers, and promised to get us the court police frequencies ASAP. Hamilton asked us for an update on the hour and then excused herself to prepare to brief the president-elect.

After she left, Bree said, “I know Zhang has to consider the safety of all nine justices, but we need to narrow our focus. That’s how Malcomb thinks. He’s a data sifter, a narrower.”

I nodded. “He’ll target for maximum impact.”

CHAPTER 93

THE NIGHT BEFORE THEinauguration, using the alias Katherine Blanco, Katrina White sailed through the U.S. Global Entry preclearance site for U.S. Customs. She left Vancouver on an Air Canada red-eye flight and landed at JFK International at ten minutes past five in the morning.

White had flown business class and slept a solid five hours, more than enough to prepare her to face the day ahead. She was first out of the plane and walked briskly, tugging a roller bag and wearing chic après-ski clothes that fit her cover as a bond trader returning from a four-day trip to Whistler.

She was now a brunette, not a blonde. And contact lenses had turned her eyes from a piercing blue to a soft brown.

As the Sparrow walked through the long halls, she got out aburner phone and sent a text to a memorized number:Your work at Vancouver was flawless.

She slowed to let a few other passengers pass by. The phone buzzed:I promised you were invisible.

White smiled and picked up her pace.

I don’t care how good his brother was with the algorithms, Malcomb’s more than a genius,White thought as she smiled and walked up to a U.S. Customs agent. He checked her U.S. passport and took her slip.

When he has his hands on the keyboard, when he’s surfing the flow, going anywhere he wants online, he’s like a god, all-knowing, able to work miracles—like stopping certain information from emerging from law enforcement and intelligence databases.

That thought gave the Sparrow utter confidence. She went outside and hailed a cab to take her to Penn Station. When she was in the taxi, the burner phone rang.

“Smooth as I promised?” Malcomb asked in a hoarse voice.

“Like I wasn’t there,” White said.

“Good. Above all, patience today. You have all the time in the world.”

“I know. How are you feeling?”

“Glad I have my own doctors.” He went into a coughing jag as her cab reached the train station. She paid in cash and entered the soaring reception area, barely noticing the stunning architecture of the Moynihan Train Hall. On the phone, his coughing subsided.

“M?” she said.

“Be careful now,” he said, gasping. “And do you remember what we talked about?”

“Low-hanging fruit,” the Sparrow said.

“That’s right,” Malcomb said, sounding relieved. “No need for heroics.”

“We’ll speak later.”

After a pause, he said, “Yes, we will.”

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