Chapter Forty-Four
Keller got off the Metro at the Rosslyn Station and walked a few blocks over to North Lynn Avenue. He hailed a taxi, which drove him north over the Key Bridge, and deposited him in front of a random bar along M Street in Georgetown. Still slightly disoriented, Keller paid his fare, leaving the cab driver surprised by the generous tip. To the driver, and anyone on the street, Keller might have appeared slightly inebriated, which didn't draw any unwarranted attention on a Thursday night on M Street. Keller focused on his surroundings, and took deep, slow breaths, avoiding any clouds of cigarette smoke from the smokers waiting outside of the busier bars.
He was starting to feel better in the fresh air, despite the occasional wafts of tobacco and stale beer. He had fled the Pentagon in a hurry, not wanting to get caught in a bureaucratic prison for the next several hours. Berg's call had been convincing enough to get him out, and Keller was grateful for the favor. He had more data stored in his head, and needed some rest to flush it out. He didn't have a headache or sore muscles, just a vague feeling that the gravity around his body had been slightly increased.
Keller spotted the street sign that would lead him deep into the quiet neighborhoods of Georgetown, and to the safe house. He glanced at the traffic, and found a break between cars large enough for him to cross safely.
Daniel Petrovich crouched, concealed in a long clump of bushes, behind a white picket fence located diagonally across the street from the address provided by General Sanderson. He carried night vision equipment in his backpack, but the ambient lighting provided by the randomly placed streetlamps and the occasional porch light allowed him to see well enough with the naked eye through the well-trimmed bushes. Colonel Farrington sat in a similarly hidden position, behind a shoulder height red brick wall topped with greenery, on the same side of the street, covering the approach from 33rd Street. Daniel kept his eye toward 34th.
The safe house was an unremarkable traditional dark red brownstone, set between a white painted brownstone to the right, and a brilliant yellow wooden building to the left. The two brownstones appeared to be attached in a small cluster, sharing a black wrought iron fence along the front, and separated by a similar fence running inward through the short front yard. The yellow building sat a few feet apart, completely separated. Petrovich could see a small sign next to the target entrance, but couldn't read it from this distance. Neither of the men passed close enough on their approach to get a good look at the sign.
They had arrived on O Street at 11:30, to begin what could potentially be a long evening for both of them. One at a time, they walked onto O Street from opposite ends, and slipped into their concealed locations without a sound. Satisfied that neither of them had tripped any alarms or raised any attention, they settled in to observe the street, which had been nearly devoid of passenger traffic since their arrival. They watched a drunken couple stumble off 34th Street, and stop to grope each other for several minutes within ten feet of Petrovich, until the college students decided to take their activities indoors just a few houses down from the target house. They would wait until Keller arrived, if he showed, which Farrington estimated could happen at any time after midnight, based on the neurotoxin profile.
Parker sat in General Sanderson's Toyota 4Runner a few blocks away, in one of the few legal parking spaces he could find at this time of night big enough to accommodate the SUV. He would spring into action once their quarry entered the safe house. A few blocks closer to M Street, his area contained more activity, and he settled into one of the back seats behind tinted glass to avoid unwanted attention by police patrols or concerned citizens. He closely monitored General Sanderson's direct frequency on one of his radios. The general would provide them early warning of law enforcement activity when O Street exploded, and coordinate the sensitive timing of their mission. Petrovich had less than two minutes to eliminate Keller and his handler. Anything beyond that would draw unacceptable law enforcement complications.
Petrovich shifted to his left knee and checked his weapon. He had opted to keep the MP-9 submachine gun, due to its easy concealment and effective silencer, which he screwed onto the weapon once he established his over-watch position. He had five spare magazines for the MP-9, each holding thirty rounds, attached to a light utility vest hidden under his dark blue nylon windbreaker. A compact semi-automatic pistol rested in a concealed holster near the small of his back, with three spare magazines stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans.
Earlier, he removed a pouch carrying several grenades of different varieties from his backpack, and attached it to the front right side of his belt. Daniel felt confident that he carried enough firepower to overcome any resistance offered by two CIA desk types. He loosened his throat microphone slightly, bothered by the constrictive feeling of the communications rig, but impressed by its sleek design and technological advantage. He would not have to fumble with a microphone headset, which tended to be a problem in the heat of battle.
Chapter Forty-Five
"We're tracking him, sir. He's moving slowly…probably on foot, down 33rd St, NW, between N and O," said Agent Fayad.
"I knew it. I bet there's a CIA front down there. Keep tracking him," he said, and whipped out his phone to make a call.
"O'Reilly, where are you?" he spoke into the cell.
"Sir, we're on our way down to the parking garage. We grabbed some surveillance gear. We should be on the road in five to ten minutes," she said.
"Excellent. Head to Georgetown. 34th Street off of M. I'll give you instructions when you get there."
"Understood, sir."
Petrovich's earpiece came to life.
"Movement. One pedestrian from the south, exiting 33rd. Caucasian male. Stand by, I can't make an ID yet."
Petrovich acquired the man with his own eyes, and squinted for details. The area was still too dark for a positive identification. It didn't really matter. If the man turned into the target building, they would pounce.
"Can you ID him?" said Petrovich into the microphone attached to his head set.
"Negative. Not enough light. Switching to night vision," said Farrington.
"Don't bother. We'll wait and see what he does," Petrovich said, readying himself to hop through the bushes and over the waist high fence.
The figure moved briskly down the opposite side of the street, and pulled out what looked like a cell phone to Petrovich. Then everything moved too quickly. The man sped toward the gate, and was at the front door before Farrington hissed something in the radio circuit. Daniel heard the gate squeak on its hinges, as he made a split second calculation, and realized that they would never make it across in time to grab Keller. He had expected more of a delay entering the safe house. A new plan formed in the same span of time, and he told Farrington to hold his position. Farrington had to ease himself back down the brick wall he had just scaled like a cat, careful not to make a sound.
Petrovich's instincts were right, and Keller entered the brownstone's vestibule as soon as he arrived at the door. Someone had opened it for him, which meant that a camera was likely monitoring the front door. If they had made a run to grab Keller, they would have likely failed, and given the building's occupants enough warning to fortify against an assault. They would have to do this the hard way, which was Petrovich's specialty.