“I’d like to hear it.”
“I can tell you things about Reel that you might find helpful.”
“How is that?”
“I helped train her.”
CHAPTER
22
REEL DID NOT DO THE OBVIOUS. The obvious would have been to speed up or otherwise take evasive action. She did neither after processing the ground conditions in her mind and arriving at the best scenario for her survival.
There were two cars. One SUV, one sedan. Both were black. Both had tinted windows all around. Reel figured they were full of men with weapons. They were no doubt in communication with one another.
As though she were competing in a chess match, she jumped four moves ahead, retraced each link in that mental chain, and decided it was time.
She still didn’t punch the gas. She didn’t try to turn down a side street. That was too predictable. She calmly eyed the rearview mirror, looked at the rain-slicked streets, glanced at the traffic around her, and finally noted Judge Kent’s position on the street.
She counted to three and slammed not the gas, but the brakes.
Smoke poured from her rear wheels as traffic veered around her.
She counted to three again and hit the gas. But only after putting the car in reverse.
She surged backward, right at the SUV and the sedan.
In her mind she could hear the communications going back and forth between the two attack units: She’s trying to ram us. Disable us.
She angled her car’s rear at the grille of the smaller sedan. It was the game of chicken played at speed and partially in reverse.
The sedan blinked. It veered a foot to the left. But the bigger SUV instantly filled this gap.
In her mind Reel imagined the next communication.
The far heavier SUV would take the impact, while the sedan stayed clear. She could almost see the men in the SUV checking their seat belts, getting ready for the impact. After the collision, the men in the sedan would perform the execution on Reel.
What the SUV could not do, however, was match the agility of a smaller car, especially with someone as skilled as Jessica Reel behind the wheel.
She timed it perfectly, cutting the wheel hard and instantly pointing her car’s rear at the gap created by the SUV’s move, like a running back executing a cutback at the line as a hole appeared. At the same time as she pulled her pistol, she used her elbow to hit the button to roll down her window.
One would think that a car moving backward could not be as efficient as one moving forward. But the key was that Reel was moving in the direction she wanted to go, which was behind her. The SUV and sedan weren’t. Because where they wanted to go was where Reel was going, which was in the opposite direction.
Reel flew through the gap, aimed her gun, and fired. The rear tire of the SUV exploded and the tread unraveled, launching rubber crocodile hides off into the roadway. It swerved and collided with the sedan.
Clear of both vehicles, Reel let go of the gas, spun the wheel, executed a seamless J-turn that the Secret Service would have given her full marks for, and ended up with the front of her car pointed in the opposite direction.
She punched the gas once more, turned down a side street, and was gone.
Five minutes later she abandoned the car and walked away with a small bag containing clothes and other necessities that she always carried for just this sort of scenario. There was no need to wipe the car for her prints. She always wore gloves.
She entered a nearby Metro station, boarded a train, and within a few minutes was hurtling miles away from the two cars, the targeted federal judge, and her nearly premature death.
Still, with all that accomplished she gave herself a failing grade, and with good reason. Reel had always been her own harshest critic, and today she was brutal. She had committed at least five mistakes, any one of which could have led to her death.
Should have led to my death.
In addition to that, she would have to change her identity yet again.
They knew her car. They would trace it back to the rental place. They would know her new name and her credit card number and her driver’s license. These were all ways to trace her. Thus those items were now useless to her.
Fortunately, she had planned for that and had backups. But she had not planned for them to be corrupted so soon. This was clearly a setback.
Even more critically, Judge Kent had been fully alerted.
It was a screwup of regrettable proportions.
She took a cab to a bank and gained entry to a safety deposit box she had rented there under the ID that had just been put at risk. There she kept additional IDs, credit cards, passports, and other documentation she would now need. She did this as quickly as possible because they were probably on their way right now.
She left the bank and walked to a cabstand. She could not stay at a hotel near the bank. That would make it far too easy for them. She took the taxi to another cabstand, got out, and waited in line for another cab. She didn’t take the first one that came through and took a long, hard look at the second.
She gave the cab an address across town. After he dropped her off, she walked for a mile in the opposite direction.
These were all extraordinary measures to a layperson, she knew. But they were actually a bare necessity in her field.
She checked into another hotel under the new identity, went to her room, and put the few things in her bag away. She cleaned and fully loaded her gun as she sat at a table by the window looking for black vehicles with tinted windows pulling up in front.
A moment later she glanced at her shirtsleeve.
She had not gotten out of the predicament entirely unscathed. The bullet had ripped through her shirt, burning her skin before embedding in the passenger door.
She rolled up her sleeve and looked at the wound. The heat from the shot had cauterized the ridge in her skin. It didn’t worry her—she had scars from past missions that made this one look lightweight by comparison.
She supposed Will Robie had his share of mementos from his missions. And he would have some fresh ones thanks to her trap on the Eastern Shore. If they ever faced off she had to hope those wounds would slow him down enough to give her an edge.
She looked at her watch. She would have to leave soon. To get to the school on time.
For now, Reel continued to stare outside as the rain fell.
It was a gloomy day. It perfectly matched her life.
They had clearly won this round. She had to hope it would be their only victory against her.
CHAPTER
23
JANET DICARLO STARED ACROSS AT ROBIE, but didn’t appear to be actually focused on him. Robie wondered if the woman was even aware he was still in her presence. It had been at least two minutes since she had dropped the bombshell on him.
“Ma’am?” said Robie gently but firmly. “You said you trained her?”
DiCarlo blinked, shot a glance at Robie, and sat back, looking slightly embarrassed.
“She was the first and only female field operative recruited to the division. I was one of the few female handlers who worked with people in your division. People at the agency thought it would be a good idea to put the two of us together. I had years of experience and she a ton of potential. She bested every man in the class that year.”