The Hit (23 page)

Their food was here.

The circle of men parted and the plates were set before them.

“Anything else?” squeaked the waiter. “Coffee freshened up?”

“I’m fine,” said Tucker, and he glanced at Robie.

“Little more coffee, thanks.”

The waiter filled Robie’s cup and fled.

Robie started eating but Tucker just sat there.

“Did DiCarlo give you exact details of these missions, personnel, equipment, and money?”

“No. But if I were you I would try to find out.”

Tucker slowly shook his head. Robie couldn’t tell if it was to indicate disbelief or frustration or both. “Are you certain it was Reel?”

“Same height, same build. It was a woman.”

“So you can’t be sure?” said Tucker.

“How many women do you have on the payroll that could take on a half dozen trained killers in a gun battle and win?” said Robie. “Hell, how many guys do you have who can do that?”

Tucker started cutting up his eggs. The two men ate for a few minutes in silence.

Robie put the last bite in his mouth, drained the rest of his coffee, and sat back, tossing his paper napkin on the table.

Tucker did the same. “If it was Reel, why?” he asked.

“That’s what I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Why would I have the answer to that?”

“You’re the DCI. If you don’t have the answer, who the hell does?”

“Maybe DHS.”

“Are you still not playing well with your big brother?”

Tucker shrugged. “For decades the FBI was the eight-hundred-pound gorilla everybody else hated. Now DHS is the nine-hundred-pound grizzly we hate even more than the Bureau.”

“It’s not like you guys go out of your way to cooperate with anybody.”

“More than you think, Robie.”

“Then pick up the phone and call your counterpart at DHS and ask nicely for the return of your employee.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Explain it.”

“I don’t have time to explain it. I have important meetings I’m already late for.”

Robie stood. “Okay. Then I’ll let you get on to your
important
meetings. But if you can find the time you might want to see if DiCarlo is even still alive.”

“I care very much about Janet, Robie, don’t make it seem like I don’t. She’s a friend as well as a colleague.”

“Actions, Director. They always trump the rhetoric.”

“What’s your next step in finding Reel?”

“There is no next step. Until someone explains to me what the hell is going on, I have officially retired from the field.”

“You would be disobeying a direct order,” barked Tucker.

“So arrest me.”

Robie pushed through the shield of guards and left the IHOP.

When Tucker started to leave, the trembling waiter sidled over and handed him the bill and then fled. The CIA director stared down at it for a moment and then slowly pulled out his wallet.

R
OBIE SAT IN HIS APARTMENT,
thinking that he needed information in a way that was discreet. Such information was often hard to come by when people were watching you.

Yet he did work in the clandestine division. And thus he had resources and a certain skill set. He intended to employ some of them right now.

He drove to a mall, parked in the covered garage, and went shopping. In one hour he had visited three different shops and carried three different bags.

He got some coffee, sat at a table, and drank it all down. He also had a muffin, even though he wasn’t really hungry.

He got up, threw the empty cup away, and walked on.

He wasn’t certain he was being followed, but he had to assume he was.

He had to believe his interest marker at the agency had gone up significantly. And there were other agencies that might be involved now too.

DHS apparently had Janet DiCarlo. They had a lot of resources available to them, including satellites. Satellites were hard to beat. But there were ways to do so. They could only spy on what they could see. And sometimes what they thought they were seeing wasn’t what it really was.

He checked his watch. As good a time as any. They were really going to have to hustle now.

He didn’t go back to his car. He took an escalator down to the Metro.

He was instantly surrounded by a horde of commuters scrambling to make trains. He wedged in with a group trying to board the train just entering the station. He got on and dropped his bags, which caused a scrum at the entrance to the train.

A voice announced that the train doors were closing. Robie kept walking, down the aisle of the train car. He looked back as he reached the end of the car. Two men were fighting their way onto the car by forcibly pushing the scrum out of the way.

Robie didn’t know them. But he did know what they were.

They were his tail. The signs were unmistakable.

Right before the doors closed, Robie stepped out of the other door.

The train slid away from the station while Robie walked to the exit, invisible within a wall of other travelers.

He didn’t go up the escalator. He slipped through a door that was nearly hidden in the wall. It led to a maintenance area.

Robie ran into two men in the hall inside this area. When they asked him what he was doing there, he flashed his creds and asked for the nearest exit. They told him and he was through it in under a minute.

He flipped his jacket inside out, turning his brown jacket blue. He slipped a ball cap from his pocket and put that on. Sunglasses covered his face.

He hit the street, found a cabstand, and within twenty minutes was on his way out of the city.

He got out of the cab well short of his destination. He walked the rest of the way.

The shoe repair shop was in a blighted area of run-down homes and businesses. The bell tinkled when Robie opened the door. It automatically closed behind him.

He paused, took off his hat and glasses, and looked around. It contained everything that one would expect to see in a shoe repair shop. The only difference was that the gent who owned it did not count on resoling shoes for all of his daily bread.

The man came out from behind a curtain set in a doorway behind the counter. “Can I help—” When he saw Robie he stopped.

Robie came forward and put his hands on the counter. “Yeah, I hope you can help me, Arnie.”

The man was in his fifties with gray hair, a trim beard, and ears that stuck out. He automatically looked over Robie’s shoulder. Robie shook his head. “Just me.”

“You never know,” said Arnie.

“You never know,” agreed Robie.

“You working?” asked Arnie.

“Something different.”

“Gelder?”

Robie nodded. “Could use some help.”

“I’m mostly retired.”

“That’s mostly a lie.”

“What do you need?”

“Jessica Reel,” answered Robie.

“Haven’t heard that name in a while.”

“That status might change. Who were her contacts?”

“Inside you should know, you’re still with the agency,” said Arnie.

“I don’t mean inside.”

Arnie ran a hand along his chin. “Reel is good at what she does. Maybe as good as you.”

“Maybe better.”

“What’s this about?”

“She’s in a bit of a jam. Maybe I can help her.”

“You two worked together,” noted Arnie.

“A long time ago. I’d like to find her.”

“And do what?”

“My job.”

Arnie shook his head. “I’m not going to help you kill her, if that’s what this is about.”

“What this is about, Arnie, is making sure this country is secure. I thought that was the only thing this was about.”

“I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“But her contacts?”

“You swear to me that you want to help her?” said Arnie.

“If I did swear would you believe me?”

“You have the rep of a straight shooter, Robie. And I’m not just talking at the end of a rifle. But you level with me, maybe I can help you. Those are my terms. If you don’t like them and you don’t have shoes that need repair I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Robie thought this over and decided he didn’t really have a choice. “They think Reel killed Gelder and another operative.”

“Bullshit.”

“Actually, I think she did kill them. But it’s not that simple. Something is going on, Arnie. Something internally that stinks to high heaven. I knew Reel. I trusted her with my life.”

Arnie said, “But if she killed the number two?”

“And in the interest of full disclosure I’ve been tasked to get her.”

“But you’re having doubts?”

“If I weren’t I wouldn’t be here,” replied Robie.

The two men stared at each other across the width of the scarred and stained countertop. It seemed to Robie that Arnie was trying to assess, as best he could, his sincerity. And Robie couldn’t blame him. Sincerity in this business was hard to come by. When you found it you were almost always surprised at your good fortune.

“You might be in luck,” said Arnie.

“Why’s that?”

“It’s a small world I operate in. Not too many players in that world. I won’t say we have reunions, but we do keep in touch. One of us needs help, we call in chits or sometimes we do favors for one another, hoping when the time comes you get a favor in return.”

Robie said, “And how does that help me?”

Arnie said, “Got a call, from another person who does what I do. No names, but he knows Reel. And maybe he just had recent contact with her.”

“What did she want from your friend?”

“A document and an address.”

“What sort of document and whose address?” asked Robie.

“Not sure. I actually couldn’t help him. But I referred him to someone who I thought could.”

“Again, Arnie, I’m not seeing any daylight here for me.”

“There was a name attached to the address.”

“What was the name?”

“Roy West.”

“Who is he?” asked Robie.

“He was with the agency. Small fry, but Reel was interested in him. Interested enough to take a risk in contacting my friend. If she did kill Gelder, they would be putting markers on her known circle.”

“Any idea why Reel is interested in West?”

“No. But the request was pretty urgent.”

“Do you think your other friend was successful in getting this document for her?”

Arnie shook his head. “No way of telling. And don’t bother to ask me to do the same for you. The friend does a favor maybe once every five years. He’s gone back underground. No way to reach him.”

Robie scrutinized the other man. Part of him thought this was bullshit, but part of him thought it actually made sense. Clandestine folks were not exactly retail vendors. Their shops were not open just because you wanted them to be.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to track West and this document down another way.”

“West is in Arkansas.”

“How do you know that?”

“I couldn’t help with the document, but I get a name, I get curious. I checked him out.” Arnie pulled out a pair of glasses and put them on. He turned to his computer, which sat on the counter, hit some keys, and a piece of paper fell into the printer tray. He pushed it across to Robie, who didn’t glance at it before slipping it into his pocket.

“It’s not an address, it’s directions. Complicated ones from what I could see. Just that kind of a place, I guess.”

“I appreciate this,” said Robie.

“I won’t appreciate you, if you’ve been bullshitting me. Reel goes down at your hand, don’t ever come back here.”

“I take it you like her?”

“If she killed them I know one thing. She had a damn good reason.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.”

Robie left and grabbed another cab for the next leg of his journey. It dropped him off two miles from his destination. He hoofed it the rest of the way.

The woods were on his right. He ducked down the gravel drive that cut between the trees and accelerated his pace. The house was a mile back.

His hideaway. His safe haven that the agency didn’t know about.

But Julie knew where it was. So did Nicole Vance. But that was it.

Robie actually regretted their knowing about it, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

He disarmed the security system, ran upstairs, packed a bag, and went out to the old barn next to the house. He unlocked the door and slipped inside. In the single bay of the barn was a pickup truck. It was fully gassed.

Robie pushed aside the hay that covered the floor, revealing a square panel of wood. He lifted this up and hurried down the exposed set of stairs.

He had not built this room under the barn. The farmer who owned it originally had done so back in the fifties, no doubt hoping that a veneer of wood and hay would somehow protect him against a Soviet thermonuclear strike. Go figure.

Robie had stumbled onto it by accident one day while looking through the barn after buying the property under an alias. He had outfitted it with things that he might need from time to time. This was one of those times.

He packed the gear in a large duffel and slid it into the bed of the pickup truck, which had a locking cover. He opened the barn door, drove the truck out, and locked the barn door. He drove out onto the main road and hit the gas.