“Yeah,” DeMarco said. “I’m clear.”
Dillon was worried.
He was sitting with Claire in the operations room at Fort Meade. Four of Claire’s technicians were in the room as well, poised in front of monitors, wearing headsets. There was a satellite image of the rendezvous site on one large plasma screen. On another screen was a computer-generated map of the rendezvous site, and data from the satellite and information provided by Alice’s spotters were being continuously added to the map so that Dillon would have real-time information regarding the locations of all the players. Blinking green lights on the map showed the location of Alice and her spotters; red lights showed the location of the three agents assigned to protect DeMarco; yellow lights were being reserved for the opposition. A solitary blinking blue light was DeMarco.
Although he was thirty-five miles from Tuckahoe Park in Falls Church, Dillon was the wizard behind the curtain. He could control the satellite overhead; he could direct the actions of all his people. He could hear everything Alice said to her team and everything they said to her, and he would be able to hear everything Hopper said to DeMarco. Yet in spite of all the marvelous technology at his fingertips and all the clever people helping him, Dillon was worried.
Dillon dealt in worst-case scenarios. One such scenario was that the man who had directed the operation that killed Paul Russo would bring in a team—probably more sentinels from Fort Myer—and his team would either kill or kidnap DeMarco during his meeting with Hopper. But no team had shown up and the meeting was scheduled to begin in fifteen minutes. Which brought Dillon to the most worrisome worst-case scenario: maybe the opposition team
had
shown up. Maybe they had infiltrated the rendezvous site and Alice’s people hadn’t seen them. That seemed impossible, but …
“Alice,” Dillon said into his mike, “tell DeMarco to go stand on the pitcher’s mound.”
Roger that
.
Dillon was hoping that when DeMarco took up his position on the pitcher’s mound that the opposition team would give themselves away—assuming there was an opposition team. Alice immediately transmitted his order.
DeMarco, go to the pitcher’s mound. Alpha, White is moving into position
.
Alpha was the agent hidden near the bleachers at the ball field, the man assigned to protect DeMarco from Hopper if necessary. He and the other two agents could only hear Alice; they were not able to hear Dillon nor would they be able to hear DeMarco talking to Hopper. The original plan had been to wait until the opposition team was in place, and then send Bravo and Charlie into the woods, placing them in positions where they could neutralize the opposition if needed—but again, there appeared to be no opposition.
“Alice,” Dillon said, “send Bravo and Charlie into the woods now. Have them search for intruders.”
Roger that
.
“There are no intruders,” Claire said.
Dillon ignored Claire’s comment. “Alice, if they find no intruders, position Bravo and Charlie where they have the widest field of vision.”
Roger that
.
Dillon watched as two red lights and a single blue light changed position on the electronic map. Via the satellite, he could also see DeMarco walking slowly across the ball field but, because it was night and the ball field was only dimly lit from nearby streetlights, DeMarco was just a dark moving form.
Thirty minutes passed. Hopper was now fifteen minutes late. Bravo and Charlie had found no intruders in the woods. Dillon was beginning to think that Hopper had decided not to make the meeting.
A Mercedes sedan has just parked on Sycamore Street
.
That had been one of Alice’s spotters speaking.
A man is exiting the Mercedes. It’s Black
.
Hopper had arrived.
Black is approaching White
.
Dillon glanced at the satellite image and watched a dark image of Hopper striding across the baseball field toward DeMarco.
Thirty seconds later:
A Cadillac SUV has pulled into the parking lot of the Bishop Connelly School
.
Dillon looked at the map. DeMarco wouldn’t be able to see the SUV. It was hidden by the long hedge running along the perimeter of the Bishop Connelly School.
The man in the Cadillac SUV just put on a headset
.
The man in the Cadillac
had
to be with Hopper but Dillon wouldn’t know if he was the one who had directed Russo’s execution until he heard the man’s voice.
All personnel, listen up
.
It was Alice speaking.
The man in the SUV is opposition. His code name is Cadillac. Bravo, Charlie? Can you see Cadillac’s vehicle? It’s behind the hedge on 26th Street
.
This is Bravo. Negative
.
This is Charlie. Negative
.
Even though the agents had night vision equipment, the hedge was apparently blocking their view of the Cadillac SUV. This wasn’t good. Alice had expected the opposition to use the woods on the south side of the ball field for cover and not the hedge across the street from the field, and she’d positioned Bravo and Charlie in the woods. Alice had guessed wrong.
One of Alice’s spotters said:
Cadillac is exiting his vehicle. He’s removing something from the rear seat of his vehicle
.
Alice immediately asked,
What did he take from the vehicle? Cannot identify. Cadillac is on the ground. Cadillac is belly-crawling toward the hedge. Cadillac is taking up a position at the east end of the hedge
.
The satellite image of Cadillac crawling was barely visible. It looked like a shadow slithering across the ground. Then suddenly the plasma screen showing the satellite image went completely black.
“What the hell’s going on?” Claire said.
“We’ve lost the satellite,” one of the techs said.
“Why? What happened?”
“I think it’s because …”
Claire didn’t need to hear geek babble. “Get it back! Now! We’re blind!”
Bravo, Charlie. Can you see Cadillac? He’s in a prone position at the east end of the hedge
.
It was Alice speaking.
This is Bravo. I can see his head
.
This is Charlie. I have him too
.
Thank God for night-vision goggles, Dillon thought.
“The satellite’s down hard,” Claire’s tech said.
DeMarco watched as Hopper approached. He was a good-looking guy, a couple inches taller than DeMarco. He was dressed casually in a lightweight jacket over a T-shirt, jeans, and running shoes—he was dressed like a man ready for action. The way he was dressed also matched the story he’d given DeMarco, which DeMarco suspected was pure bullshit.
“You’re late,” DeMarco said, when Hopper reached the pitcher’s mound.
“Kiss my ass,” Hopper said.
“And I still don’t understand why we had to meet out here in the middle of the damn night.”
DeMarco said that because he figured the complaint would be expected, but Hopper had already told him why they were meeting at this time of night. Hopper’s lie was that he was part of an FBI surveillance team watching some bad guy around the clock, and this was the only time he could break away. The park had been chosen for the rendezvous because it was close to the location of Hopper’s fictitious surveillance team. DeMarco suspected the real reason Hopper wanted to meet at midnight was that there would be less chance of anyone seeing Hopper kill him, particularly if Hopper took him into the woods near the ball field.
“I already told you why we’re meeting now,” Hopper said. “So just get to it, DeMarco. What do you want?”
“I told you what I want. I want to know what the hell’s going on with my cousin. I know you falsified his autopsy report and I think you’re covering up why Paul was really killed.”
“He was killed because he was peddling meds.”
“You gotta quit lying to me, Hopper. It won’t work. I know this isn’t about drugs.”
“Oh, yeah,” Hopper said. “What do you know?”
“I know a
Washington Post
reporter is missing, and right before Paul was killed the reporter was headed toward the Iwo Jima Memorial.”
Ask him how he knows that
.
“That’s him!” Dillon said.
The man who had just spoken was the man who had directed the operation at the Iwo Jima Memorial. Tonight, however, he wasn’t using encrypted radio equipment—most likely because the equipment was too bulky—and Claire’s technicians were easily able to lock in on his radio frequency and listen to him talking to Hopper. It appeared that just as DeMarco was wired so Dillon could hear him and give him orders, Hopper was wired so Cadillac could hear Hopper and give him orders. Dillon smiled. It was like DeMarco and Hopper were two radio-controlled robots, their speech and movement controlled remotely by their masters.
As soon as Dillon said, “That’s him,” Alice said,
Delta, Echo, Foxtrot. Cadillac is your target. We’ve lost satellite coverage so you will not—I repeat—you will not lose Cadillac when he departs
.
Delta, Echo, and Foxtrot were Alice’s spotters—and the agents Claire had assigned to follow and identify Hopper’s boss. Their job was the most critical part of the operation. Their job, in fact,
was
the operation since the only reason Dillon had wanted DeMarco to meet with Hopper was so Hopper could lead them to the man they now called Cadillac.
The only thing that remained to be done at this point was to keep DeMarco alive and, frankly, keeping DeMarco alive was secondary to identifying Cadillac.
“How do you know about the reporter?” Hopper said.
“Traffic cameras,” DeMarco said. “I asked that cop, Glazer, to look at them.”
He’s lying
. That was Cadillac speaking.
“You’re lying,” Hopper said.
“I also know General Breed was Paul’s last patient,” DeMarco said.
“Yeah, you already told me that. How’d you find out about Breed?”
“I found out because I know how to get information out of people. I also know one of the last people to see Breed before he died was Charles Bradford.”
“What?” Hopper said.
When Dillon heard Hopper say
what
? it sounded to him as if Hopper was genuinely surprised to hear Bradford’s name, which made Dillon wonder if Hopper even know about Bradford’s role in this whole thing. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just signed Hopper’s death warrant. Knowing the connection between Breed and Bradford was what had gotten Paul Russo killed.
Ask him what he wants
.
That was Cadillac speaking to Hopper again.
“What do you want, DeMarco?” Hopper said. “Money to stay out of this thing?”
“No, I don’t want money. I just want to know what’s going on.”
Dillon smiled when he heard this; DeMarco was a stubborn bastard.
Tell him that Russo is a classified op and you need to know where he’s getting his information from
.
“Okay, I’m gonna level with you,” Hopper said. “Russo’s death is connected to a classified operation, and that’s why I had to take the case away from Arlington and why I haven’t been straight with you. You’ve stumbled into something
way
over your head, pal, something related to national security, but that’s all I can tell you. So now you listen to me. I need to know who’s feeding you information, and don’t tell me fuckin’ traffic cameras.”
“No, no,” DeMarco said. “I’m not buying that classified national-security crap. You feds chuck that out whenever you want to hide the truth.”
“DeMarco, goddammit, I’m telling you the truth. And if you don’t tell me what I need to know, I’m gonna call your boss and get your dumb ass fired for sticking your nose into an FBI case after you were told to back off.”
DeMarco doubted Hopper knew who his boss was, but he didn’t say that. Instead he said, “You’re not gonna talk to my boss, because if you do, I’ll have to tell him what you’re up to—and then you’ll have Congress all over your ass.”
Hopper, make him talk. Take out your gun and threaten to kill him. Shoot him in the knee if he doesn’t talk
.
Thirty-five miles away, in the operations room at Fort Meade, Dillon screamed, “No!”
He knew what was going to happen the instant Hopper pulled his weapon.
“Alice!” Dillon yelled. “Tell Alpha not to kill Hopper!”
Dillon was too late.
DeMarco watched Hopper’s right hand go up, toward his chest—and he immediately realized that Hopper was going for a gun in a shoulder holster. DeMarco was too stunned at first to move, then he started to back up, holding his hands in front of his chest, saying, “Wait a minute. Wait a minute.”
But Hopper didn’t wait. His drew his gun and started to bring the weapon to bear on DeMarco—and then he dropped to the ground like his legs had evaporated and there was a small red-black hole in the exact center of his forehead.
DeMarco had no idea who had killed Hopper.
No one had told DeMarco about Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie.
Levy saw Hopper fall, and his mind registered that, a millisecond before Hopper fell, he’d seen a muzzle flash from a weapon that he thought came from
behind
DeMarco, from the bleachers, but everything happened so fast he wasn’t sure.
Now DeMarco was running. Why was he running if he had protection? And why was he running toward the woods and not up to the street where he’d most likely parked his car?
All Levy knew for sure was that he couldn’t let DeMarco leave the ball park. The damn guy knew too much.
Levy picked up the object he’d taken from the backseat of his SUV: a short barreled rifle with a sound suppressor and night-vision scope.
Cadillac has a weapon. I repeat. Cadillac has a weapon
.
It was one of Alice’s spotters speaking.
Dillon cried out, “Alice! Tell your men they can’t kill Cadillac.”
Dillon wanted to use Cadillac to squeeze Charles Bradford if he could. Cadillac dead was of no use to him.