The other guys just had their piece. They won’t be able to lead us anywhere. Firewalled out of the loop. Kent was the key, and Johnson was tasked to keep back and take him out if things went wrong.”
“Agreed.”
Reel’s voice turned harsh. “But why didn’t you tell me about the FBI?”
“Did you need to know?”
“I thought we were a team on this.”
“I thought that if you knew the FBI was going to swarm in you might have done things differently.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning you’re a wanted person.”
“What did you tell them about me, by the way?”
“That we were tasked to stop this by the agency.”
“And Gelder and Jacobs?”
“They believe they were killed by the people behind the planned hit here. I told them I thought they were on the right track with that theory.”
“I doubt that Vance is going to stop there. She doesn’t seem the type to take anybody’s word in place of an investigation and her own conclusion.”
“She’s not. What I did back there was just a stopgap. Just to give us some time.”
“Okay.”
“But it can’t end there, Jessica.”
She looked over her shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about nothing except that ever since I started on this.”
“There are ways,” Robie began.
“There are no ways, Robie, not for this. It has one possible outcome and it’s not a good one for me. But you’ll be okay. In fact, if I were you I’d go back to Vance right now and just tell her the truth. The more you try to cover for me the worse it will be for you when the truth does comes out.”
Robie didn’t budge. “You really want to waste time arguing over something that stupid?”
“It’s not stupid. It’s your future.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Jessica. That’s my decision, and I’m sticking to it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Don’t ask me again.”
“But just so you understand the possible consequences.”
“Someone gave the order to Johnson to take out Kent. I want that person.”
“Loose ends, Robie. They’ll be finding Johnson’s body any minute now. That idiot was dead as soon as he pulled the trigger on Kent. No way they’re going to leave him alive.”
“We’re loose ends too,” he said.
“That’s right, we are,” she said, looking suddenly cheerful.
“What?” said Robie, noting her upbeat expression.
“Loose ends are a two-way street. They want to get to us. But to get to us they have to come to us.”
“And that gives us a shot at getting them first,” he said.
“I’m done hitting singles too, Robie. It’s time to go for the shot out of the park.”
“How exactly do we do that?”
“You just have to trust me. Like I’ve been trusting you this whole time.”
“What exactly is your plan? We’ve got nothing.”
“I’m not really into sports, but I’ve been doing some basic research,” she replied.
“On what?”
“On Roger the Dodger.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“Actually, I think I do.”
“Proof?”
“A witness.”
“Where can we find the witness?”
“We don’t have to.”
She walked off.
When he didn’t follow she turned back and said, “Despite what you just said, if you’re out I need to know, right now. I’ll have to adjust my plan and fly this one solo. But either way, it’s happening.”
“Because of your friends?”
“Because I don’t like getting crapped on. I don’t like traitors. And, yeah, because of my friends.”
“I’m in,” he said.
“Then come on.”
Robie followed her.
CHAPTER
79
THE WHITE HOUSE.
It was often a place of near chaos buffered by moments of intense calm, like the eye of a hurricane. One could tell that inches past the serenity lurked possible bedlam.
This was one of the serene moments. The precise location of the possibly hovering bedlam was as of yet unknown.
They were in the Oval Office. It was reserved for symbolic moments that often were attended by dozens of photographers. There were no photographers here today, but it was a symbolic moment nonetheless.
Robie sat in one chair. Across from him was DCI Evan Tucker. The president was perched on a settee. Next to him in a separate chair was National Security Advisor Gus Whitcomb. Completing the party was Blue Man, looking slightly awed to be once more in the presence of such august company.
“This is getting to be a routine, Robie,” said the president affably.
“I hope it doesn’t actually become one, sir,” said Robie.
His suit was dark, his shirt white, and his tie as dark as his suit. His shoes were polished. Next to the others, with their colorful ties, he looked like a man attending a funeral. Maybe his own.
“The exact details of what was going on are still coming out, albeit slowly,” said Whitcomb.
“I doubt