Vance finally said, “It’s not that complicated, Robie. Either you are or you aren’t. No skin off here if you say no.”
Robie wanted to say no. But for some reason he said, “When?”
“Around eight? I’ve been wanting to try this new place over on Fourteenth.” She told him the name. “I hear they strain their tomatoes through linen cloths to make their cocktails.”
“You like cocktails that much?” he asked.
“Tonight I do.”
Robie knew there had to be an ulterior reason for Vance to be calling him to go to dinner. Yes, he believed that she liked him. But she was super agent Vance for a good reason. She never turned it off.
“Okay,” he said.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“I’m officially surprised.”
So am I, thought Robie.
“Any interesting cases you’re involved with?” she asked. “It’s just a rhetorical question, of course.”
“How about you?”
“Oh, this and that.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Maybe I will at dinner. Or maybe I won’t. Depends on the quality of those cocktails.”
“See you then.”
He put the phone away and watched out the window again as people scurried along the streets trying to escape a rain that seemed to have settled into the bones of the area, making things as wet and chilly and miserable as possible.
Robie slowly moved through the eleven hundred square feet of his apartment. The place was where he lived, but it seemed to be uninhabited. There was furniture, to be sure. And food in the fridge. And clothes in the closet. But other than that there were no personal effects whatsoever, principally because Robie had none to bring here.
He had traveled the world, but had never purchased a souvenir to bring back. The only thing he had to bring home on his return trips was himself, surviving to do what he did another day. He’d never purchased a postcard or snow globe after ending someone’s life. He just got on a plane, or train, or sometimes drove or walked home. That was it.
He took a nap and when he woke he showered and changed into fresh clothes. He had a few hours to kill before going to meet Vance.
He opened his laptop, inserted the USB stick, and the life of Jessica Elyse Reel came to life in all its megapixel glory.
But before he could start reading his phone buzzed.
He looked at the email that had just popped into his box. It was quite to the point.
Sorry it’s come to this, Will. Only one can survive, of course. Selfishly, I hope it’s me. Respectfully, JR.
CHAPTER
7
ROBIE IMMEDIATELY CONTACTED Blue Man and told him what had happened. A trace was put on the email Robie had received. The report came back thirty minutes later and it was not good.
Untraceable.
For Robie’s agency to concede something was untraceable was a big deal. Whoever Reel was working with, they weren’t slackers.
The other point to consider was how Reel had gotten Robie’s email address. It certainly wasn’t public knowledge. Blue Man was probably thinking the same thing.
Reel might have a con federate in the ranks of the agency. A leave-behind who was feeding information to the woman. That information might include that Robie had been assigned to track her down, a fact that was only hours old. Whoever the insider was, he had access to a lot.
Robie once more began reading the file on Jessica Reel contained on the USB stick. Reel had had some impressive hits over the years. She, like Robie, operated at the highest level and had taken down people in situations that would have challenged Robie to the fullest.
He’d never doubted that Reel was good. But he was a little surprised that she was that good.
And she may have a spy on the inside telling her all she needs to know to get enough of an advantage to take me out before I get to her. Which means my own agency is a threat.
Robie kept reading until he came to the hit on Doug Jacobs. Quick, clean, ingenious really. Nail the handler while he thinks you’re about to take out someone else.
And a sniper’s nest had been found in the hotel in the Middle East. The gun muzzle had been placed perfectly so that when Jacobs did the satellite zoom Reel had suggested, he could see the gun barrel. But there had been no sniper.
There was no evidence that Reel had been the shooter who had ended Jacobs’s life. But the email Robie had just received left no doubt that she was involved somehow.