The entire team exited the Suburban on the driver's side, forcing Cummings to climb over the center console, and slide out onto the parking lot's warm pavement, careful not to hit the horn. They quickly stacked themselves along the side of the Suburban, and Cummings reacquired Petrovich through the tinted glass, watching as Petrovich approached the first row of cars in the lot.
Cummings leaned back. "If he stays in the center, we'll fan out simultaneously and take him down. If he turns, we'll weave low through the cars. Hit him quick," he whispered to his team.
Once the team sprang into action, they would be on Petrovich with enough electrical current to drop a gorilla. If they couldn't make that happen, then Cummings would cut him down with his silenced MP-9 submachine gun. Dead or alive, Petrovich would leave in the back of their Suburban.
Cummings glanced through the large tinted window again, and saw that Petrovich had turned in front of the first row, and was now opening a sedan parked in one of the handicapped spaces.
"Son of a bitch. Back into the vehicle," snapped Cummings.
The team scrambled back into their seats, as a Dodge Charger drifted slowly out of the parking lot, and took a left out of the parking lot.
"Get us moving, Dougie. We can't lose him. We'll have to take him down when he stops," said Cummings, as the Suburban lurched backwards into the lot toward the exit.
"What about Garrity?" asked Doug.
"We don't have time for him," Cummings said, just as Garrity appeared running at the top of the stairs.
"He should be here any-"
"Step on it!" interrupted Cummings, and Doug Porter pressed the accelerator, leaving Garrity behind.
Cummings saw a sedan cross Adelphi Road, merging onto Route 193 West, which headed toward Silver Spring, Maryland. He pulled out his cell phone and made a call to his second team, which was positioned to keep an eye on 8800 Lanier Drive in Silver Spring. He wanted the second team ready to pounce when Petrovich arrived. As far as the team could tell, Parker was still inside the apartment, which is where Cummings wanted to keep him. As long as he stayed inside, there was no way Parker could react in time to help Petrovich.
Petrovich ripped the stolen handicap sign off the rearview mirror and accelerated the over-powered Dodge Charger onto Route 193. He glanced into the rearview mirror, just in time to see the Suburban pass through a red light at the Adelphi Road intersection. He could barely believe anyone had found him this quickly, but took some solace in the fact that these were not law enforcement types. If the FBI had discovered that he was staying at the Marriott, they would have probably sealed off the entire building, until they figured out that Scott Barber had checked in late in the afternoon, and had rented a car between College Park and BWI. He could have expected a heavily armed SWAT team lined up in the hallway outside of his room.
Another thing was certain; the team following him in the Suburban was not comprised of clandestine intelligence professionals. The guy sitting in the courtyard would not have peaked Daniel's interest under normal circumstances, but given the very abnormal nature of his visit to D.C., a stocky guy with a tight military haircut raised an alarm. Even if he hadn't been spooked by the guy, the team in the Suburban would have been impossible to miss, even for a trainee. He had identified the oversized black vehicle as suspicious from the top of the stairs, and was rewarded with a confirmation moments later. While he descended the stairs from the courtyard, the rear passenger window lowered several inches, and Daniel caught the reflection of a lens through the opening.
Regardless of their espionage skill level, he had no doubt that the team was lethal. The guy in the courtyard looked formidable. Definitely ex-military. He needed to warn Parker immediately. If someone could find Daniel this easily, he didn't have high hopes for Sanderson's assistant. Parker was worse than the guys in the Suburban when it came to sneaking around.
He pulled the cellphone out of his front jacket pocket, lowered the driver's window and tossed it out onto the road. He had no idea how they had tracked him, but he couldn't help suspect that someone had been able to work some serious magic intercepting cell phone transmissions. He didn't know a lot about the technology used to do this, but most of the controversy surrounding the Patriot Act centered around the government's ability to electronically eavesdrop on its citizens. Daniel assumed the worst, which was why he used several different pre-paid phones. He unzipped a pocket on the outside of the duffel bag sitting on the front passenger seat, and took out another cellphone to call Parker.
Parker answered on the first ring.
"Parker, shut up and listen carefully. I'm being tracked by a black Suburban filled with guys that look like you. They were waiting for me outside of my hotel, and I think they were planning to take me down right there. I'd be shocked if this was the only black Suburban filled with commandos on the streets around here. I'm on 193 headed in your direction."
"Understood. I'll hit the streets with our gear, and wait for you to shake the Suburban. We should meet at a different safe house," said Parker.
"Parker, I don't think you're fully appreciating the situation. If they found me, there is a solid chance that you have the same problem at your location. Frankly, I don't care if you get stuffed into the trunk of a car, but I have a feeling that General Sanderson might care. Stay put until I can draw them away from you," said Petrovich.
"What's your plan?" asked Parker.
"I might stop for some groceries. Any suggestions?"
"There's a nice Whole Foods on the way through town. Find Wayne Avenue from 193. You'll see it as you approach the downtown avenue," said Parker.
"What the fuck is a Whole Foods?" said Petrovich.
"Organic grocery store. Good coffee. You'll like it."
"Will it be busy?"
"Busy enough. The aisles are crowded. Shit jammed everywhere. You should be able to disappear in the store," said Parker.
"I don't have any intention of vanishing. Just evening the odds a bit. Be ready to move with our gear when I call. We'll need to leave Silver Spring immediately. You need to let Sanderson know that the situation in D.C. has changed," Petrovich said, and ended the call.
"What the fuck is this guy doing?" said Cummings.
The Charger cruised into a parking lot off Wayne Avenue, and Cummings saw a large green illuminated Whole Foods sign appear between the trees. He wondered exactly how dangerous Petrovich could be, if he was stopping in the middle of a terrorist operation to chase down healthy snacks. Maybe he planned to stock the safe house with food. It didn't matter now. Cummings had new orders. He had called this guy Berg to report their missed opportunity at the Marriott, and Berg changed the rules of engagement significantly. He told Cummings that Petrovich was too much of national security danger to take any more risks, and ordered them to terminate Petrovich with extreme prejudice at the next given opportunity. This might well be that opportunity.
"Slow down, and stay back, Goddamn it. We'll follow him into the lot, and set up around his car. Ben, you'll pick him up in the store, and call us when he's coming out. We have orders to kill this guy on the spot," he hissed.
"Jesus," whispered Doug, turning the wheel of the car to follow Petrovich.
The parking lot was half full, and Petrovich picked the first open handicapped space, about two cars back from the storefront, and two rows to the right of the entrance. Cummings was surprised by how quickly Petrovich was out of the car and moving toward the grocery store. Ben Sanchez spoke up from the back seat.