on his page that would explain why all these people are dead.”
“What about Cassidy?” said Robie.
Julie hit some keys and the page loaded. “Quite a few Jerome Cassidys.” She ran her eye down the page and hit the scroll key. “Offhand I don’t see any that list military service or the address you gave, at least on the Google summary page. I can go more in-depth on each of them.”
“Try Van Beuren. That’s not such a common name,” said Vance.
Julie did so. The page loaded. “A lot more than one would think,” she said. “It’ll take a while to go through these.”
“We don’t have a while,” said Robie. “We need to hit this now.”
He had pulled the car into the barn. He had earlier loaded the vehicle up with gear he thought they might need from the bunker underneath the barn. He showed Vance the firepower in the backseat. She touched an MP-5 and gazed at a Barrett rifle that could punch a hole in an armored Hummer.
“Where’d you get stuff like that?” she asked. “Never mind, I don’t want to know,” she added quickly.
Robie took out from the trunk three armored vests and put one on Julie while Vance slipped one on, Velcroing it tightly to her torso and putting her jacket on over it.
Julie said, “Is this really necessary?”
“Only if you want to survive,” said Robie.
“It’s heavy,” she said.
“Better than taking the bullet it’ll stop,” replied Vance.
Robie drove, Vance rode shotgun, and Julie sat in the backseat. Robie had backed the car into the barn, so he pulled it straight out. He got out and closed and locked the barn door.
When he got back in Vance said, “Might be the last time we can come here.”
“It’ll be what it’ll be,” replied Robie. “Now, let’s see what Mr. Siegel can tell us.”
He gunned the engine and drove toward the road.
CHAPTER
82
IT WAS A quiet tree-lined street with modest-sized houses with attached garages, houses that would sell for two or three times what they would fetch in most other parts of the country. The lots were small and poorly landscaped, the bushes around the cookie-cutter homes overgrown enough to hide most of their fronts. Cars were parked along the streets and in a few of the yards small kids played under the watchful eyes of their mothers or nannies.
Robie slowed his car and checked the addresses. Vance saw it first.
“Third one on the right,” she said. “There’s a van in the driveway. Hopefully, someone’s home.”
Robie eased over to the curb and killed the engine. He took off his sunglasses, picked up a pair of binoculars from the front seat, and surveyed the area. There were multiple attack points, too many for them to adequately cover.
“We’re way out in the open here,” he said.
“No surprise,” replied Vance. “I’ll go knock on the door. You cover me from here.”
“How about the other way around?” said Robie.
“I’ve got my FBI creds, Robie. They trump yours.”
“A federal shield is going to intimidate anyone.”
Vance already had the door open.
“If someone starts shooting, make sure you shoot back,” she said. “And shoot straight!”
Robie and Julie watched as Vance walked up to the front stoop and rang the doorbell.
Robie pulled his pistol from its holster, hit the button to roll down the passenger-side window, and kept his gaze sweeping in long arcs but always returning to an imaginary three-foot box around Vance.
“She’s pretty brave to just walk up there,” noted Julie.
“She’s a super-special FBI agent; it comes with the territory.”
“Don’t try to make nice with me, Robie.”
“So I’m Robie now? What happened to Will?”
She didn’t answer.
The front door opened and Robie fixed his gaze on the woman standing there. Vance flashed her cred pack and then took a few minutes explaining to the woman what she wanted. The look on the woman’s face—Robie assumed she was Siegel’s wife—was one of astonishment. The two women spoke for about a minute longer, and then the door closed and Vance walked quickly back to the car.
Robie saw the curtain on the front window of the house move to the side and the woman peer out.
Vance got back into the car and Robie started it up.
“Gabriel Siegel works at a SunTrust branch about ten minutes from here. Got the address from his wife.”
“She looked surprised,” said Robie.
“She was surprised. I think she thought it had to do with some problem at the bank.”
“Maybe her husband is stealing money,” piped up Julie. “Maybe he’s laundering it for terrorists. And my parents and the