The Hit (40 page)

R
OBIE STOOD ON THE CROWDED
Metro train holding on to an overhead handrail. He wore sunglasses, a ball cap pulled low over his forehead, and a hoodie for extra concealment.

The train pulled into the next station and stopped. Robie didn’t react when the woman boarded. He kept his gaze partially downcast, but his peripheral vision was firmly on her.

For her part, Nicole Vance didn’t react when she saw Robie. The only reason she recognized him was because he had told her what he would be wearing, which train car he would be on, and where he would be standing in that car.

She took her time working her way over to him. Most people around them were reading e-books, surfing on their electronic devices, listening to music through earbuds, or simply dozing in their seats.

She stopped next to him and grabbed a handrail. In a low voice she said, “How are you?”

“A little stressed.”

“I can understand that. The stuff that happened on that train?”

He nodded.

“How did you get away?” she whispered.

“Jumped.”

She flinched. “Alone?”

He shook his head.

“Who?”

He shook his head again.

She looked at him stubbornly. “I’m trying to help you.”

“And I’m trying to keep you safe. Do you have it?”

She gazed at him sternly for another moment and then took the newspaper out of her bag. She pretended to read the front page. As the train picked up speed she unfolded the paper. Taped to it was a USB stick. The way it was positioned, only Robie could see it. With a swipe of his hand he slipped the stick into his pocket.

He turned to leave, but Vance gripped his elbow. Robie looked at her cautiously. He was afraid she was about to blow everything.

She mouthed two words:

Kick ass.

He nodded curtly, turned, and weaved his way through the passengers. As the train entered the next station he drew close to the door. As he was exiting he looked over at Vance. She was staring off. But Robie could read her mind.

She doesn’t believe I’m going to survive this.

And if I’m honest with myself, neither do I.

Robie rejoined Reel in her rental car. As she drove through the streets, he used a laptop to scroll through the files Vance had given him.

“Anything?” she asked.

“Vance got me all she could find on suspicious movements overseas, heightened threat alerts. Upgraded military preparedness. Unusual chatter in the usual places.”

“And?”

“There’s some strange sub activity in the Atlantic. We’re sending a few more ships to the Persian Gulf, probably to do with Iran. And there was a surprise naval exercise in the Pacific. But that’s all on our side. I’m not finding anything that might be what we’re looking for, meaning unusual movement by our enemies.”

“Nothing?”

“Wait a minute,” Robie said sharply.

He scanned down a page. “I remember seeing this on TV a while back, but that was before I knew about any of this so I didn’t make the connection.”

“What is it?”

“The president is going to Ireland for a conference on terrorism.”

“So?”

“It’s not just the president.”

“Okay, who else will be there?”

He looked up. “All the leaders of the G8. The Godfather scenario is a lot easier to play out if all of them are in the same place.”

“But, Robie, think of the security they’ll have there. Locked down tighter than anything else on the planet. There is no way they can hit that. No way.”

“After 9/11, I refuse to say anything is impossible.”

“But you said the president will be there. He’s not part of the target.”

“According to West’s paper he wasn’t. That doesn’t mean they’re sticking to the paper in every detail. Maybe they want to nail him too.”

“I get the bad guys coming after us. But why in the hell would people inside our government want to kill the president? And I still don’t understand why they would want to kill the G8 leaders.”

“They’re traitors. Maybe they were just paid off. It happens.”

Reel didn’t look remotely convinced. “But this is not some gun-down in the street, Robie. This is global meltdown. If they are being paid off, where are they going to spend their money? They have to live on the planet too. It makes no sense.”

“You’re the one who believes that this white paper West wrote is at the center of this whole thing. If you no longer think that, I need to know, right now.”

“I do still believe it.”

“Because of Joe Stockwell?” he said.

She nodded, blinking slowly. “Yes.”

“Who did he get close enough to in order to figure this out?”

“I don’t know. I wish I did. He sent me enough details for me to know what was going on. He sent me the names on the list. He told me what they were planning to do based on that paper, at least as much as he knew of it.”

“Did he send you the paper?”

“No. I got that from another friend of mine who tracked it down.”

“Nice to have friends.”

“So do we go to Ireland?”

“If that’s where the hit is going to take place, I don’t see an alternative.”

“How about we tell Vance our suspicions? She can send word up the line.”

“They’re not going to take any action without meeting her sources. And she can’t tell them it’s us without getting herself arrested. Same reason we can’t do it. So that’s a no-go,” said Robie.

“You have a fake passport the agency doesn’t know about?”

“Of course,” said Robie.

“Then maybe it’s time to head to Ireland.”

Robie looked down at the screen once more. “Maybe it is.”

“I would like to check one other thing, Robie.”

“What’s that?”

She picked up her phone. “The friend.”

“Where is this friend? And can he or she be trusted?”

“Yes, he can. And he works at the mall.”

“The mall? Doing what?”

“He’s a whiz at video games. Among other things.”

“What can he find out for us?”

“The real name of Roger the Dodger. Because that son of a bitch is going to die and I’m going to pull the trigger.”

T
HERE WERE FIVE MEN IN
the room:

Evan Tucker.

Blue Man.

Gus Whitcomb, the APNSA.

The director of the FBI, Steve Colwell.

And the president of the United States.

The president said, “Any leads on who killed Howard Decker?”

Colwell shook his head. “Not yet, sir. It was an execution-style hit. We’ve recovered the bullet, but we have no gun to match it to.”

The president looked incredulous. “And no one saw anything? They were in a damn public park.”

“We’ve made inquiries,” said Colwell. “Unfortunately, we’ve turned up no witnesses yet.”

Tucker said, “There might not be any witnesses. If it was a professional hit they would have made sure there was no one around.”

“But for what purpose?” asked the president.

Blue Man said, “It might be tied to Decker’s Intelligence Committee activities.”

“Is it also tied to the deaths of Gelder and Jacobs?” asked the president. He leaned back in his chair and studied the other men in the room, looking them over one by one, awaiting an answer.

Tucker said, “Well, they all were involved in the intelligence field. At least it’s a common theme.”

The president gazed at Colwell. “And we’re no closer to solving those murders, are we?”

“We’re making some progress,” said Colwell lamely.

“Good to hear,” said Tucker. “
Some
progress is always welcome, whatever minimal form it might take.”

The two directors shared a nasty glance.

Whitcomb said sharply, “And there is the matter of the Amtrak train. Casualties and what looks to be a considerable cover-up.” He paused and gave a sideways glance at the president. “And there is of course the outstanding issue of Jessica Reel. And now, apparently, if I’m reading the tea leaves correctly, Will Robie.” He gazed at Tucker. “Is Robie still off the grid?”

Tucker nodded before glancing at Blue Man and then quickly looking away.

“And what might Robie be doing off the grid?” asked Whitcomb.

Tucker shrugged. “I wish I knew, Gus.”

Whitcomb continued, “When I spoke with Robie—before he went off the grid,” he added in a contemptuous tone—“he told me several troubling things.” He glanced at the president, who seemed to be aware of what Whitcomb was about to say.

The president nodded encouragingly. “Go ahead, Gus. We need to get all this aired.”

Whitcomb said, “Robie told me that Janet DiCarlo was troubled by unexplained incidents at the agency.” He looked sharply at Tucker. “Your agency.”

“What sorts of things?” Colwell wanted to know.

Whitcomb looked at his tablet. “Missing personnel. Missions that never should have happened. Missing money. Missing equipment.”

Colwell looked surprised but also somewhat pleased by this revelation.

“Serious allegations,” said the president.

“Serious allegations indeed,” echoed Colwell.

The president continued, “I am well aware that we had some enemies of this country placed very close to home.” He shot a glance at Colwell. “And it wasn’t simply at CIA. It was at your agency as well.” Colwell immediately lost most of his cocksure manner.

The president returned his gaze to Tucker. “I thought it an isolated incident. I am sitting here almost entirely due to the courage
and skill of Will Robie. If he thought something was still wrong, then so do I. If he said that DiCarlo was worried, I believe him.”

“And yet he’s gone off the grid,” said Colwell.

“That could be explained any number of ways,” said Whitcomb.

“If he’s teamed up with Jessica Reel, and she was responsible for the deaths of Jim Gelder and Doug Jacobs, then any explanation would be highly problematic,” noted Tucker ominously.

Blue Man glanced at him, but Tucker continued, “I have heard theories that Gelder and Jacobs were traitors to this country. I am aware that a former analyst to the CIA, Roy West, was recently killed. And that Reel and Robie might have been there.”

“That’s the first we’ve heard of such speculation,” snapped Whitcomb.

“Because that’s what it is, speculation,” countered Tucker. “I don’t know where people stand on this thing. I don’t know if Reel and/or Robie are on our side or not. What I do know is that people are dying and there has to be a good reason for that. The stakes surrounding this matter must be astronomically high. But no one has been able to figure out what they are or where the motivations lie.”

“And Decker?” said Whitcomb quietly. “Could he also be involved somehow? Perhaps a traitor too? Might Reel have killed him too?”

“I don’t know,” said a clearly frustrated Tucker. “I just don’t know.”

Whitcomb said, “Robie told me that he believed it was Jessica Reel who saved his and DiCarlo’s life that night. That she was the countersniper who left all the shell casings. If that is the case then I am hard pressed to see how she could be a traitor.”

“If she shot and killed Jacobs and Gelder, she is at the very least a
murderer
,” snapped Tucker, but then he seemed to regret his loss of temper. He went on more calmly, “If they were traitors, that’s why we have courts. You don’t go around and just shoot people because you suspect them of some wrongdoing.”

“Yes, but be that as it may,” said Whitcomb, “I’m not prepared to come down so hard on Reel if the men had turned against their country. There is nothing in her record, or Robie’s for that matter, that would suggest either of them have turned traitor.”

“Well the same holds true for Jim Gelder and Doug Jacobs,” interjected Tucker.

“Duly noted,” said the president. “But we’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. For the time being, we have to put every resource we have into solving this thing. And that includes finding Robie and Reel, as quickly as possible. If they are working for us somehow, they could be invaluable in clearing up this matter.”

“And if they’re working against us?” asked Tucker.

“Then their fate is completely predictable.” The president looked around. “Any disagreements there?”

Every other man in the room shook his head.

The president rose. “I’ll be leaving for Ireland shortly. But keep me informed. Highest priority. No major decisions without briefing me. Clear?”

The others nodded.

The men all stood as the president disappeared through a door held open for him by a Secret Service agent.

When the door closed behind him, Whitcomb sat. So did the others.

“So where do we really stand on all this, Gus?” asked Tucker.

“I thought the president was perfectly clear on it, Evan,” said Whitcomb in mild surprise.

“With the things he said, yes. I mean the things that were left unsaid.”

“I think you can deduce what they are. But I’ll give you a hint. If this isn’t resolved satisfactorily then there will be ultimate accountability.”

He looked at Tucker, then at Colwell, and finally at Blue Man. “Ultimate accountability,” he repeated.