Jimmy Maitland came striding up to him. “I just spoke to Chip Ramsey. Dammit, Luther Lindsay is dead, but thankfully, everyone else is accounted for. Günter penetrated the lines all the way to Luther without being spotted. That means he was in a camouflage uniform, just like the SWAT guys, his face blackened. He obviously knew the terrain well enough to pick a rise he could shoot from.

“Chip doesn’t know how long he waited there before he took out Luther, but he’s thinking it wasn’t long at all. Someone would have noticed. Günter saw Fleurette flanked by two bodyguards, standing right in front of the Jefferson Dormitory, took Luther out, and took his shot. Dave and Joe heard the struggle and headed to Luther’s location. Günter heard them, and that’s probably what saved Giffey’s life—threw his aim off.

“The thing is, Savich, why would he think that we’d actually put Fleurette out there in harm’s way? He knew we’d set a trap for him.”

Savich said, “I saw Fleurette and Giffey standing side-by-side after Fleurette had finished Giffey’s makeup, done her hair this morning, given her one of her dresses and her coat. I swear I couldn’t tell them apart. Could be twins.”

“Well, Günter must have believed it was her, too. I’m willing to bet he was ready to spend a couple of hours watching, may have been surprised anything could come of it this quickly. The bastard.”

“How did he get Luther?”

“Chip says Luther was on his belly, looking toward Giffey sweeping the area, and Günter jumped on his back, looped the wire around his neck, and that was it. Luther probably managed to fight, and that’s what Joe Boyle and Dave Dempsey saw—the bit of noise, the shadow of movement was Luther trying to save himself. But he couldn’t. Then Günter sighted in on Giffey—he actually used Luther’s own rifle—but before he could shoot, he heard Joe and Dave and that, thankfully, pulled his aim off a bit. He fired, saw her fall, saw it was a chest shot, and he was out of there.

“This is a tough one, Savich. I’ve known Luther for more than a dozen years. Chip and I will speak to his family as soon as I can get away. Amanda Lindsay is a great lady, and their teenage girls are terrific. Dammit, dammit.”

Savich nodded, swallowed. He’d met Luther about six years before, admired his skill, his humor, his love for his family. But his skills hadn’t saved him. He tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t. All he saw was Giffey on that stretcher, lying in her own blood, and he couldn’t stand it. He said then, “Giffey might die, and I know it’s my fault if she does.”

“We all knew the risks, Savich, Giffey, too. We all went along with this plan as our best opportunity. It may have been the only way we had to get Günter.”

It was in that moment Savich realized they still had a chance to pull it off, to protect Fleurette and get Günter. “Sir, I’ve got another plan, although since this one was such a spectacular failure, I wouldn’t blame you for telling me to shove it.”

“Lay it on me, Savich, let’s see.”

When Savich finished, Jimmy Maitland sucked in a deep breath. “I like it, and it might work. Your brain is good, Savich, keep using it. You need to go see Fleurette. She’s with her parents and Sherlock, and she’s really shaken. I’ll keep in touch with Bethesda, have Dr. Peterson call you as soon as he knows Giffey’s status.

“Yeah, this might work. You can bet Günter will be glued to the TV, waiting to hear the breaking news that Fleurette is dead so he can celebrate.”

Savich said, “We’ve got to outthink him. That’s why we can’t come out and announce she’s dead, and that’s why we’ll delay announcing who was taken to Bethesda in the helicopter.”

“Director Mueller sure won’t like holding back like this, dancing around the truth, but I think he’ll agree. Then we have Callie. You think you can convince her to go along with this?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Maybe we’re being premature. There’s still a chance we can get our hands on him today. Chip has the SWAT people spread out all over. Since we don’t have anything more reliable, we’re looking particularly hard at any late-model cars, Toyotas, you know, like Mr. Avery described last night, and anyone fitting Mr. Avery’s description. We might get this guy.”

He stopped talking, saw that Savich looked frozen, as if stuck to the wall he was leaning against.

“Savich, stop blaming yourself. I need you sharp and focused on getting this plan of yours to work.”