He was meeting Nicole Vance for dinner at eight.
He did not want to meet her inside this town house in the next two minutes.
CHAPTER
8
ROBIE KNEW HOW TO EXIT QUIETLY. He did so now, coming around the corner and watching from behind some bushes as Vance continued to argue with the other men.
He pulled his phone and sent a text to Blue Man.
A minute later Robie saw one of the men arguing with Vance touch his ear.
Message communicated.
He stopped arguing and Robie heard him say, “The place is yours to search, Agent Vance. We’ll leave you to it.”
Vance halted in midsentence and stared at the man.
Robie ducked down as she swiveled her head, looking in all directions. He could tell she knew exactly what had just happened. The dogs had been called off. The place was open to her now. That order had come from high up. Some condition had changed in the last few seconds.
Robie was on the move, because he knew that Vance’s next tactic might be to send her men rushing in all directions to look for the source of the change on the ground. He didn’t want her to discover that the source was him. It would make dinner later even more uncomfortable than it was already shaping up to be.
Robie reached his car and drove off. He punched in a number and Blue Man answered almost immediately.
“Thanks for the assist back there,” said Blue Man.
Robie snapped, “I’m meeting with Vance tonight. Agreed to it before I knew she was involved in this. Would have been nice to know before. Getting blindsided like that out of the gate does not inspire confidence.”
“We didn’t know she had been assigned to it. We don’t run the FBI. I suppose that her success last time has lifted her up in the eyes of the Bureau.”
“Exactly how much does the Bureau know?” Robie asked. “Your guys being outside that building tells her that it’s not a routine murder.”
“We couldn’t completely cover up what happened to Doug Jacobs. FBI involvement was inevitable. But it’s up to us to manage it properly.”
“So, again, how much do they know?” Robie asked.
“They know that Doug Jacobs was a federal employee. They do not and will not know that he works for our agency. He is officially a member of DTRA.”
“Defense Threat Reduction?”
“More specifically in their Information Analysis Center. The building Jacobs was in is leased by the Center. It provides good cover for us. Not that we ever expected Jacobs to be shot dead in his office.”
“And DTRA will play the game?” Robie queried.
“They think big picture, just like we do. They’re part of DoD, after all.”
“Do they know what Jacobs was doing in that office when he was shot?”
“There would be no possible good coming from my answering that question. Suffice it to say that ignorance is bliss.”
“Meaning DTRA won’t have to technically lie to the FBI when they come calling?”
“They have already come calling.”
“And what is the official line?” Robie said.
“Jacobs was shot while performing his mundane job, possibly by a rogue gunman targeting the federal government.”
“And you think the FBI will buy that?”
“I don’t know if they will or not,” replied Blue Man. “That’s not my concern.”
“But you can’t let the FBI find out that Jacobs was actually orchestrating the assassination of a foreign leader.”
“He wasn’t a foreign leader yet. We do our best to be proactive. Eliminating those already in power is a tricky thing. Sometimes necessary but to be avoided if possible since it’s technically illegal.”
“Vance is tenacious as hell.”
“Yes, she is,” agreed Blue Man.
“She might get to the truth.”
“That is not an option, Robie.”
“Like you said, you don’t run the FBI.”
“What will you talk about with her tonight?” asked Blue Man.
“I don’t know. And if I cancel she might get suspicious.”
“Do you think she suspects your involvement in any of this?”
“She’s smart. And she sort of knows what I do for a living.”
“That was a mistake, Robie, it really was, letting her know that.”
“I really didn’t have a choice, did I?”
“What if she starts asking questions?”
“Then I’ll answer them. In my own way.”
Blue Man seemed about to continue this line of questioning, but then said, “What’s your next step on Reel?”
“Any way to trace her movements leading up to the shooting? I mean, do we know for certain if she was in the country and pulled the trigger? Her voice over the headset doesn’t prove she was actually the shooter.”
“Reel went silent before the shot, so we didn’t pick up any sounds on her end, just on Jacobs’s. But her voice means she was involved somehow.”
Robie said, “The sniper nest was set up overseas. Any clues there?”
“Nothing. We confirmed that she was seen there, but two days before. Plenty of time to get back here and shoot Jacobs.”
“What’s the latest on Ahmadi?”
“Business as usual. We removed all traces of the sniper nest, of course.”
“Planning another hit on him?” asked Robie.
“Well, if he was aware of the first try and foiled it, turning it back on us, I would imagine he would be ultra-cautious now. We might not see his face again until he’s Syria’s new leader.”
“I don’t like it that Reel had my email address.”
“I don’t like it either,” agreed Blue Man.
“We have a mole. A leave-behind.”
“Possibly. Or she might have gotten that in formation beforehand.”
“How would she know I’d be the one going after her?”
“A calculated assumption?” suggested Blue Man.
“She might be tailing me right now.”
“Don’t get paranoid on me, Robie.”
“You missed that window by a few years. My paranoia knows no bounds now.”
“Where are you off to now?”
“To get ready for my dinner.”
Robie clicked off and accelerated. He checked his rearview for Vance, Reel, and assorted bogeymen.
I’m not growing paranoid. I am paranoid. And who could blame me?
He punched the gas harder.
Sending a killer to catch a killer actually made sense.
We talk a different language and we see the world through a separate prism that no one else could possibly understand.
But it worked both ways. Reel would understand him as much as he would understand her.
So Reel dead.
Or me.
It really was that simple.
And also that complicated.
CHAPTER
9
JESSICA REEL SAT ON HER bed in her hotel room. Her sweat-drenched exercise clothes lay on the floor. She was naked and looking down at her toes. The rain was hitting with increased velocity outside.
Like bullets. But unlike bullets rain leaves you alive.
She rubbed her hand over her flat belly. Her firm core had come from agonizing exercise and careful diet. It had nothing to do with appearance. The core was power central. And fat slowed you down. In her world that was poison. She was also proficient in every martial art worth anything in close-quarter combat.