The Hit (48 page)

“His suggestion?” Whitcomb said blankly. Robie nodded.

“But there is no evidence tying me to any of this.”

“There is evidence, beyond Meenan here. Sir, you might want to sit down before you fall down.”

His legs shaky, Whitcomb sat back down on the bench. “You said you don’t see this going to trial?”

“Too much of an embarrassment for the country. We don’t need that. There are lots of terrorists out there. That would hurt our ability to go after them. You don’t want that, right?”

“No, of course not.”

Robie looked up at Meenan. “Thank you. There are people waiting for you over there.” He pointed to his left where two men in suits hovered.

After she walked off, Robie said, “Your security detail has been dismissed, by the way.”

Whitcomb glanced in the direction from which he had come. “I see.”

“Your resignation might be in order.”

“Did the president suggest that too?” Whitcomb said dully.

“Let’s just say that he didn’t object when it was raised.” Robie looked at the man. “Did you know Joe Stockwell?”

Whitcomb slowly shook his head. “Not personally, no.”

“Retired U.S. marshal. Good guy. Got in with Kent, gained his trust. Found out what was going on. You had him killed. And a woman named Gwen. Nice old lady. And a former agency guy named Mike Gioffre. They all meant the world to a friend of mine.”

“What friend would that be?” But Robie could tell that Whitcomb already knew the answer.

Robie pointed to his right. “Her.”

Whitcomb looked to where Robie was pointing.

Jessica Reel stood ten feet from them, her gaze on nothing other than Whitcomb.

Robie stood and walked down the trail to the exit. He never once looked back.

The island in the middle of a million people now contained only two people.

Gus Whitcomb.

And Jessica Reel holding a pistol.

To his credit, Whitcomb looked unafraid.

“I’ve been to war, Ms. Reel,” he said by way of explanation as she drew close to him. “I’ve seen many people die. And I almost died myself a couple of times. You never get used to it, of course. But the shock level
is
diluted.”

“Gwen Jones, Joe Stockwell, and Michael Gioffre did die,” she replied. “You had them killed.”

“Yes, I did. But the world is complicated, Ms. Reel.”

“And it’s also extremely simple.”

“You look at it in different ways. You think you see an opportunity for improvement. Vast improvement. And sometimes you take it. That’s what we did here. We were tired of the killing, the chaos, and always being at the edge of the precipice. We just wanted a more stable, peaceful world by having people we could actually deal with in power over there. A few lives to save millions? How can that possibly be wrong?”

“I’m not here to judge what you did. That’s really not my concern.” She raised her weapon. “There have to be others besides the ones we know. Who are they?”

He shook his head and smiled grimly. “Now, do you want me to kneel? Do you want me to stand? Whatever you say I’ll do. You have the gun, after all.”

“You have family.”

For the first time Whitcomb looked concerned. “They knew nothing of any of this.”

“I don’t care.”

“I would please ask you to not harm them. They’re innocent.”

“Gwen was innocent. And so were Joe and Mike. And they had families.”

“What do you want?”

“Who else was behind this?”

“I can’t.”

“Then I’ll start with your oldest daughter. She lives in Minnesota. And after that your wife. And then your sister, and I’ll keep going until there’s no one left.” She pointed her pistol at his head. “Who else?” she asked.

“It won’t matter. They’re outside this country, completely untouchable.”

“Who else? I won’t ask again.”

Whitcomb gave her three names.

She said, “Congratulations, you just saved your family.”

“You give me your word that you will not harm them?”

“Yes. And unlike some people, I do keep my word.”

“Thank you.”

“One more thing. DiCarlo?”

“She was too close to figuring things out. It pained me, but there was too much at stake.”

“You’se a bastard.”

“So stand or kneel?” he said.

“I don’t care, really. But I want you to close your eyes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Close your eyes.”

“I will have no trouble watching you kill me,” Whitcomb replied.

“It’s not for your benefit. It’s for mine.”

Whitcomb closed his eyes and waited for his life to end.

When no shot came and the minutes passed by, Whitcomb finally opened his eyes.

The island now contained only one person.

Jessica Reel was gone.

“I
COULDN’T PULL THE TRIGGER,”
Reel told Robie.

It was later that afternoon. They were sitting in Robie’s apartment. Reel looked totally dejected.

“It was sanctioned,” he said.

“I know it was sanctioned.” She paused. “I told him to close his eyes. Like you told me to. When he opened them I was gone.” She looked up at him. “Just like you were.”

“It was your choice. But I have to say I’m surprised.”

She let out a long breath. “You let me live, Robie, when everything you’ve done the last dozen years was telling you to pull the trigger on me.”

Robie sat down next to her. “You didn’t deserve to die, Jessica.”

“I killed people. Just like Whitcomb.”

“It’s not the same.”

She snapped, “At every important level it
is
the same.”

Robie remained silent.

Reel wiped her face. “He was just an old, tired man sitting there. And he wasn’t afraid of dying.” She rose, went to the window, and stared out, her forehead pressed to the cool glass. “I couldn’t pull the trigger, Robie, even though I wanted to.”

“He wasn’t an old, tired man. He was quite the warrior on the football field and off. Special forces in Vietnam, killed his share of the enemy. Guy was quite the badass in his day. And during his tenure as the APNSA, he orchestrated the killing of more members of terrorist organizations than any of his predecessors. He always
goes for the jugular. Not a guy you would want against you. Kent found that out. So did Decker.”

“So why are you telling me all this?” Reel asked.

“To let you know that you have more compassion than he or I do. I would have shot him and not even thought twice about it. And he would have done the same to you.”

“So what will happen to Whitcomb?”

Robie shrugged. “Not our concern. I don’t see him going to trial, do you?”

“So…?”

“So just because you didn’t pull the trigger doesn’t mean that someone else won’t. Or maybe they’ll bury him in some cell at Gitmo.”

“Pretty high-level guy to go out like that. Media will be all over it.”

“The media can be controlled. But let’s hope no more high-level guys attempt something like this.”

“So what happens to me now?” she asked.

Robie knew the question was coming. It was certainly a legitimate one. And yet he wasn’t sure he knew the answer.

“The fact that they sent you after Whitcomb tells me that things are back to the status quo.” He looked at her. “Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I’ll ever know. If I couldn’t pull the trigger on Whitcomb, who’s to say I’ll ever be able to pull the trigger again?”

“You’re the only one who can ultimately answer that.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to answer it.”

“There is some good news.”

“What?”

“Janet DiCarlo came out of her coma.”

Reel’s eyes widened. “Robie, there might be others out there. If they know that, she’ll be dead in—”

He held up his hand. “No she won’t.”

“Why?”

“Cerebral hemorrhage. She’s not… she’ll never be the same as she once was.”

“And that’s good news?”

“She’ll get to live.” He paused. “Would you like to see her?”

Reel nodded.

Two hours later they stood at the bedside of Janet DiCarlo. Her head had been shaved and deep suture marks were stamped on her scalp where major surgery had been performed to relieve pressure on her brain. Her eyes were open and she stared up at them.

Reel reached out and took her hand. “Hello, Janet,” she said in a husky voice. “Do you remember me?”

DiCarlo stared up, but no recognition came to her features.

“My name is—” Reel broke off. “I’m just a friend. An old friend who you helped a long time ago.”

Reel looked down when DiCarlo squeezed her fingers. Reel smiled.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said.

Reel looked over at Robie. “We’re going to be okay.”

No we’re not
, thought Robie.

A few seconds later his cell phone buzzed. He looked down at the screen. The message was short but definitely to the point.

They
were being summoned.

And now it starts.

T
HE CONFERENCE ROOM SEEMED TOO
small to hold everyone who was there. On one side of the table sat Robie and Reel. On the other side were Evan Tucker, Blue Man, and the acting APNSA, Josh Potter, who was much younger than Gus Whitcomb, barely fifty. Robie didn’t envy his coming into this situation.

Tucker slid a USB stick across the table. Robie and Reel looked at it, but neither made a move to pick it up.

Tucker said, “New mission.”

“For both of you,” added Potter.

Tucker said, “We’re giving you a second chance, Reel.”

“I never asked for one.”

“Let me put it this way. We’re giving you your
only
chance. You murdered two people from the CIA, for God’s sake. You should be in prison. Do you know how unbelievably generous this offer is?”

Potter cleared his throat and sat forward. “Let me just say that these are extraordinary conditions and that everyone here is under enormous stress. As the new man in the loop I also want to say that putting this behind us is a priority. I think we can all agree on that.”

Reel said, “Gelder and Jacobs were traitors. I just didn’t wait for the sanction order. I’m sure it would have been forthcoming.”

Blue Man added, “And the agency has uncovered evidence tying both of them to the plot. Sam Kent left files behind. So what Ms. Reel did was serve her country.”

“Bullshit!” snapped Tucker. “You are a murderer, Reel, nothing will ever change that.”

“Your objection is duly noted, Director,” said Potter in a calming
tone. “But the ‘offer’ has been authorized at a level above any in this room. So let’s just focus on that instead of exercising histrionics.”

Robie was not looking at Tucker or Potter. He was looking at Blue Man.

And Blue Man was doodling on a piece of paper.

Robie did not take this as a good sign.

Robie said, “Can we get a preview?”

“Like I said, a second chance,” replied Tucker. “Ahmadi? Syria? He’s still there. We need him taken care of.”

“Little dicey to go in now,” said Robie.

“If she had done her job before instead of shooting Doug Jacobs in the back, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” barked Tucker. “It’s gotten to the critical stage. We believe that Ahmadi is partnering with al-Qaeda and will soon offer them training, resources, and official cover into other countries if he comes to power, which looks likely. That obviously can’t be allowed to happen.”

“So we both go?” said Reel, watching Tucker.

He spread his hands. “Like Robie said, it’s dicey right now. We believe the odds of success are increased with both of you going in.”

“Which of us takes the shot?” asked Robie.

Potter pointed at Reel. “She does. You’re the spotter.”

“She has to finish the mission, Robie,” added Tucker. “That is the official deal. She does that, as far as this country is concerned, the slate is wiped clean.”

“I’d like that in writing,” said Reel.

“In writing?” Tucker scoffed. “Where the hell are you coming from asking for that?”

“From a place called ‘I don’t trust you,’ ” she answered.

“You don’t have a damn choice,” thundered Tucker.