"Generals, colonels…this sounds like a game of Stratego. When do I get a rank? And please tell me we are leaving the city. Every law enforcement officer within fifty miles is looking for me," said Petrovich.
"We're moving to a safe house in Alexandria, to meet up with General Sanderson. We need to take a look at the laptops you pulled from the Suburbans. See how much they know about us," he said.
"He's gonna be there?" asked Petrovich.
"He was there when I talked to him twenty minutes ago," said Parker.
"You better let him know we're on the way. He might not want to be there when I arrive," said Petrovich.
"What's up with him?" said Farrington, addressing Parker.
Petrovich cut off Parker's response. "I'll tell you what's up. About thirty-one hours ago, I was living a pretty normal life. Married to the woman I love, working a decent job and spreading mulch around my garden beds…then this guy shows up, and here I am. Wanted for murder and God knows what else. I have General Sanderson to thank for all of this. Just remember, Colonel, once Sanderson sinks his hooks into you, there's no escape. He'll squeeze the last bit of usefulness out of you, and discard your carcass with the rest of the human compost he's created."
They rode in silence for several minutes before Petrovich interrupted the quiet. "We're going to need someplace further than Alexandria. It's only four miles from here. Jesus, get us outside the Beltway at least."
"We'll stop in Alexandria, grab some gear and figure out what we're doing next. We're almost there anyway," said Parker, pointing at the signs for Alexandria and Interstate 495.
"Sanderson better have a good plan worked out. I need to get as far away from this city as possible. You guys really fucked me on this one," said Petrovich.
"We're all fucked. None of us will be able to call this place home again," said Farrington.
"Yeah? What did you do that'll keep you on the run for the rest of your life?" Petrovich asked sarcastically.
"I stole the only remaining copy of the Black Flag file, which is by all counts, a treasonous offense, punishable by life imprisonment. In the process, I killed a Pentagon employee and assaulted agents from the FBI and CIA. Don't lecture me about being screwed," said Farrington.
"When are you going to rack up a body count, Parker? I'd feel better if I knew you were just as fucked as the good colonel and I," said Petrovich.
"Don't worry. I believe I'm an accessory to every murder today," said Parker.
"Good point. I'll be sure to offer that up for a deal if I get caught. Though it appears someone beat me to it today. Who ratted us out?" said Petrovich.
"We're working on that. The General doesn't like to leave loose ends," said Parker.
"That's good to know, as long as you're never classified as a loose end. I'd hold onto that file for a while, Colonel," said Petrovich.
"Nice. I don't think you understand what's going on here today," said Farrington.
"I really don't. Anytime someone would like to open up and share, don't hesitate," said Petrovich.
Farrington turned his head back to Petrovich, but Parker shook his head.
"General Sanderson plans to explain everything to you. You're part of something bigger than you can imagine," said Parker.
"I have a big imagination."
"I think you'll be pleasantly surprised," said Parker, and Farrington nodded.
"Gentlemen, I'm intrigued. Let's find Sanderson, because now I have to hear him explain how ruining my life can possible yield a pleasant surprise. I hope he's in Alexandria."
"I guess we'll find out soon," Colonel Farrington said, as the car veered north onto Route 1, headed into the heart of Alexandria.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Special Agent Heather Olson sat in the front passenger seat of an unmarked FBI Chevy Tahoe, carefully studying the multiple brake lights appearing ahead of them. The driver, dressed in full SWAT gear, without helmet, slowed the Tahoe as Olson radioed the Connecticut state police. They were entering the outer limits of Stamford, Connecticut, and traffic had been relatively light, until now. They had left Boston a few minutes before seven, and had avoided most traffic, only running into a slight backup on the 91 in Hartford. Every time the Tahoe decelerated, Olson tensed. She didn't feel comfortable transporting Munoz by car, but Sharpe thought an air transfer would be even riskier. Too many predictable points of passage.
She didn't agree, but she kept her concerns quiet. The assignment to handle Munoz was a significant opportunity for Olson, and she didn't want to sour it right at the end. They had managed to break Munoz, and provide headquarters with information that kept the investigation moving forward. It was the FBI's only win today, and she had spearheaded the entire effort with Gregory Carlisle's help. His team had performed brilliantly throughout the interrogation phase, and she appreciated the opportunity to work with such an FBI legend.
She received word from the state police that there had been an accident just past exit ten, on the westbound side, which involved several vehicles. He stated that the accident involved a few minor injuries and mostly superficial damage to the vehicles, but that the westbound lanes were closed. They were diverting all traffic through exit ten, which emptied onto Ledge Road and reemerged on the other side of the accident, about a half-mile down from the exit. Olson notified the state police that they were transporting a federal prisoner, and requested that they clear the stretch of Ledge Road for their three vehicle convoy. The state troopers said they would stop all further traffic from exiting the highway until they arrived.
Olson picked up a different radio, and spoke with the tactical teams in each vehicle, relaying standard operating instructions, and warning them to stay vigilant. Her own SUV carried three SWAT agents from the Boston field office, including the driver, and the rear SUV carried four additional SWAT agents. The prisoner transport vehicle, a windowless Ford Econoline van on loan from the Suffolk County Sheriff's Department, carried a mix of six FBI and Suffolk County Sherriff's Department SWAT personnel and a Suffolk County driver. They had sufficient firepower to repel any attempt to free Munoz, but what she feared most was an assassination attempt. Munoz had blown the lid on a major clandestine operation involving some nasty people, and a retribution strike was highly likely. They would be defenseless against an improvised explosive device, or any similar massive attempt to destroy one of their vehicles. None of the trucks were armored.
The vehicles tightened their column formation, activated their blue strobe lights and veered onto the shoulder of the road, speeding past the slowing traffic. Agent Olson could see the state trooper's red and blue strobes in the distance, which meant she had a clear shot at reaching the exit. She told the driver to accelerate.
They arrived at the top of the exit, and the state troopers executed their plan flawlessly. One of the two police cars moved to block the exit, and the other moved far enough into the exit roadway to allow the FBI convoy to roll past. The strobe lights bathed the Tahoe's interior as they rumbled through the gravel past the two police cars.
The road ahead of them was not empty, and Olson became annoyed. She had specifically requested that the road be emptied of all civilian traffic, but she could see several cars stopped at an intersection below the Interstate overpass. Her dashboard mounted GPS receiver indicated that this was Noroton Avenue, and for some reason, the police officers in the intersection were letting traffic onto their road, flowing in the opposite direction.