Natalie’s previous excitement vanished, to be replaced with concern. The GMC was a slightly modified version with flared wheel arches and tinted windows, the kind of thing a college student might possess if he had too much money to blow.
She followed the circular round and headed down the Esplanade. The GMC stayed with her, three cars back. She took the first exit onto the switchback and joined the Jefferson Davis Highway headed south. The sedan had vanished. The GMC stayed with her, now the same distance behind but with only one car separating them until they hit the highway.
Natalie settled down into a steady cruise and watched carefully as the GMC matched her speed in the outside lane. It had closed on her slightly and moved into a position off her right that was hard to monitor without checking over her shoulder.
Paranoia prevented her from looking. If they guessed that she was onto them they might break off. She glanced ahead. Highway One crossed overhead less than a mile away and signs for Washington and Pentagon City showed for the next exit.
Natalie waited until the last possible moment before hitting her turn signal and switching lanes as she took the exit for Washington. Having come from the district, she was now heading straight back there. The chances of the GMC needing to do the same were unlikely in the extreme.
She checked her mirror as she rounded the switchback and joined the US-1 headed straight back toward the Potomac. The GMC didn’t show. Natalie joined the flow of traffic and wondered briefly if the whole thing had been just a waste of time and gasoline. By the time she made it back to the district again and got parked she would barely have time to grab something for lunch before she would be due back at her desk.
‘Dammit.’
She thumped the wheel and turned on her signal to change lane as she glanced in her mirror.
Her heart skipped a beat.
The dark-blue sedan was two cars back. She blinked, checked again. Same vehicle, same plate. Only the driver was alone now, his passenger gone. Natalie’s mind went into overdrive. The sedan had pulled off somewhere between the Esplanade and the switchback south for the Jefferson Davis Highway. It could have been someone dropping a work colleague home, or a friend to the metro, or just a family member who got out for a walk in the sunshine over the bridge. Anything. And now they were headed back to the district.
Natalie saw a truck cruising slowly in the inside lane ahead. On an impulse, she switched lanes and dropped in behind it as she grabbed her cellphone from the inside pocket of her jacket. Driving one-handed, she selected the cell’s camera and activated it as the now faster-moving sedan was forced by the flow of traffic to pass her. A Cadillac Catera, Virginia plates, child-seat in back, Virginia Cavaliers patch in the window.
As it cruised by, Natalie looked straight across at the driver.
Male, maybe in his forties. A long and angular face, short gray hair. Looking studiously ahead to avoid looking directly into the camera, the windows of the vehicle tinted enough to obscure detail. Natalie clicked the camera button as the sedan moved past, and then shot another picture of the tailgate. As she lowered the cell she saw the driver glance in his wing mirror as he cruised away in the faster flow.
She wasn’t imagining it, she knew. The guy was tailing her. Quite possibly two vehicles watching her, switching places to try and avoid being noticed. A new sense of anxiety swelled within her as she considered this. Two vehicles, multiple individuals, all dedicated to watching the every move of a lowly analyst at the Capitol.
She picked up her cell again and tapped a quick-dial number.
‘Ben Consiglio.’
‘It’s Natalie. I’m being followed, Ben.’
There was a long pause.
‘You sure about it, I mean, really sure?’
He didn’t sound convinced. She gripped the cell tighter.
‘Dammit, Ben, I’ve got pictures on my cell, I’m bringing them in.’
‘You took pictures? Jesus Christ, Natalie, you sure that’s a good idea?’
‘I just drove across the Potomac and back, came right round the switchback and they followed me the whole way. It’s too much of a coincidence, Ben.’
‘Holy crap,’ Ben whispered down the line. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Keep this to yourself, okay? I don’t want anybody to know about this until I’ve figured out what the hell’s going on.’
‘Okay.’
Natalie racked her brains for a moment, trying to think of a way forward.
‘Do you think that there’s some way we can figure out who’s behind this?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Y’know, track them down. Run the plates or something?’
‘I don’t know. I’m not a cop. I’d have to check if we can even legally do something like that.’
Natalie focused on the road ahead as she replied.
‘I’m pretty damned sure that it’s illegal and an invasion of privacy to monitor the movements of any American citizen without some kind of probable cause, regardless of what the Patriot Act says.’
There was a long silence down the line before Ben spoke again.
‘Let me see what I can do. Just get back here right now, okay? And don’t do anything else that might let them know you’re onto them. Just act normal.’
Natalie shut the cell off and drove across the Potomac, but instead of heading back to the office she took Ben’s advice and drove to her apartment. People didn’t just pop out for a drive in Washington’s busy traffic, so she pulled into her parking space and got out. A quick trip home to collect something, anything, and she could head back to the Capitol.
She opened her apartment door and hurried inside.
Then she stopped.
It wasn’t that she could tell instantly that something was wrong. It was more like a sixth sense, like the sensation of being watched. From where she stood she could see that there was nobody in the apartment with her, but her keen eye picked up on the dislodged rug in the center of the living room; the kitchen door not quite as open as she had left it; the pictures on the mantelpiece above the faux fireplace at slightly off angles.
Somebody had been here while she was at work.
25
‘It’s not much to go on.’
Doug Jarvis stood behind Marty Hellerman and looked at his monitor, where a window displayed the apparently empty files contained on the flash drive Ethan had sent from Idaho. Another smaller window displayed the DOS boot screen and a flashing cursor beside an ‘ACCESS DENIED’ message.
‘Do you recognize the encryption?’ he asked.
Hellerman stroked his top lip with one finger. Barely out of his teens, he was a graduate of MIT and Jarvis was lucky to have him. Most of the promising information technology big guns were hoovered up through recruitment drives by the National Security Agency. Hellerman shook his head.
‘No. We could send it to NSA.’
Jarvis shook his head. His recent meeting had reminded him that whatever was going on in Idaho had repercussions that affected a great deal more of the American intelligence community than just the DIA. Somebody, somewhere, was hiding something, and while it was easy to assume that the CIA were behind it, it was just possible that they were as much in the dark as anybody. The thought of that sent a tremor of apprehension down his spine. If not the CIA, then who — and why?
‘Where the hell does some kid from the backwoods get encryption good enough to stop a professional code-breaker?’ Jarvis mused. ‘Even for a moment?’