Free Mercury Rests by Robert Kroese

that, but he and Christine had to change planes twice, whereas his flight on Finch’s plane had been nonstop. He was starting to think that being kidnapped by an insane billionaire wasn’t such a bad way to travel.
    Jacob felt a little guilty that they had left Alistair Breem, his old physics mentor, in Kenya, but there really wasn’t anything else to do. Having been abducted by Finch years earlier, he didn’t have a valid passport or any means of identification, and contacting the British embassy in Nairobi hadn’t been as helpful as they had hoped. Ally had been declared legally dead five years prior and was having trouble getting anyone in London to accept that he was alive and well and stranded in Africa. There wasn’t anything Jacob or Christine could do, and Jacob needed to get to Washington, DC, as quickly as possible if he was going to have any chance of keeping his job. Christine had agreed to fly with Jacob as far as Washington, after which she would catch another plane to Los Angeles.
    Eventually Jacob fell asleep as well and was awakened by the pilot announcing their descent into Dulles International Airport. He nudged Christine, who awoke with a start, shouting, “I told you, it’s not the Apocalypse!” Jacob smiled apologetically at the passengers around them while Christine rubbed her eyes.
    The plane landed without incident, and Christine and Jacob exited onto the concourse. Christine half expected Perpetiel the cherub to come buzzing down the corridor toward them. What she saw was almost as surprising.
    A few yards from the gate stood a tall, bulky man with closely cropped black hair, wearing a dark suit. In his hands was a neatly printed sign that read:
    SLATER/TEMETRI J
    Christine pulled on Jacob’s sleeve and cocked her head in the man’s direction.
    “Huh,” said Jacob. “Somebody’s expecting us.”
    “You think?” replied Christine irritably. “Who is it?”
    “How would I know?” asked Jacob defensively.
    “Aren’t you in the FBI?”
    “I’m a forensic blast investigator, Christine. Do you want me to defuse him?”
    Christine rolled her eyes and strode toward the man. “That’s us,” she said.
    “I know,” replied the man.
    “Then what’s with the sign?”
    “The sign was to get you over here.”
    “Why didn’t you just walk up and introduce yourself?”
    “Some people find me intimidating,” the man explained. “The sign is meant to empower you. You see your name and you think, ‘Hey, that’s me. Somebody is here waiting for me.’ ”
    “Frankly, it’s a little intimidating seeing a stranger holding a sign with your name on it,” said Christine.
    The man frowned and cocked his head to look at the sign. “Even with the smiley face?”
    “Who are you?” asked Christine.
    “My name,” said the man, “is Special Agent Roger Daltrey.”
    “Roger Daltrey?” asked Christine. “Like the singer?”
    “The who?” asked Jacob.
    Agent Daltrey glared at Jacob. “Never gets old,” he said evenly. “Come with me, please. Both of you.”
    “Hang on,” said Christine. “I don’t work for the FBI. I don’t have to come with you if I don’t want to.”
    “Well,” said Agent Daltrey. “I can arrest you if I need to, but I’d rather not. It cheapens the smiley face, in my opinion.”
    “Fine,” replied Christine curtly. “Where are you taking us?”
    “Best not to say right now,” said Agent Daltrey. “Follow me.” He spun on his heel and made for the airport exit. Christine had to admire the way he assumed that she and Jacob would follow; clearly Agent Daltrey was accustomed to people doing what he told them to do. It was only when they were outside, being herded into a waiting SUV, that she realized that they had been tailed by half a dozen plainclothes agents. No wonder Daltrey hadn’t been worried about her and Jacob bolting.
    An identical SUV in front of them peeled out, and half a second later the vehicle carrying Christine and Jacob did as