don’t talk to people about the weather, much less where I spent the night.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She shot him a glance. “I hope you didn’t think I invited you to stay for some reason other than a place to sleep.”
“Never crossed my mind, Agent Vance. You don’t strike me as the type.”
“You don’t strike me as the type either.”
“I need to pick up a fresh set of wheels.”
“You want me to drop you by DCIS?”
“There’s a car rental place on M Street near Seventeenth. Drop me there.”
“What, DCIS can’t spring for fresh wheels for one of its own?”
“What they have is crap. Probably hand-me-downs from the Bureau. I’ll get my own.”
“FBI doesn’t do things that way.”
“FBI has a budget that allows for that. DCIS doesn’t. You’re the eight-hundred-pound gorilla. We’re the underfed chimpanzee.”
She drove to the rental place on M.
Robie got out.
“Do you want to meet me at Donnelly’s?” she asked.
“I’ll get there, I’m just not sure when,” he said.
“Other things to do?” she answered in a surprised tone.
“Some things to think about,” he said. “Some things to dig into.”
“Care to share?”
“A mom and kid dead. A bus blown up. A shooter trying to take you or me or both of us down. I’ll call you when I’m on my way to Donnelly’s,” he added.
He walked into the rental place and requested an Audi. They didn’t have one, so he took a Volvo instead. The rental agent told him that Volvos were very safe cars.
Not around me they’re not, thought Robie as he pulled out his license and credit card.
“How long will you be needing the car?” asked the agent.
“Let’s just leave it open,” said Robie.
The man blanched. “We actually need to have a turn-in date from you and the place where it will be returned.”
“Los Angeles, California, two weeks from today,” said Robie promptly.
“You’re going to drive to California?” said the agent. “You know, a plane is a lot faster.”
“Yeah, but not nearly as much fun.”
Ten minutes later he sped out of the rental garage in his very safe silver Volvo two-door.
What had scared him the most about last night was not nearly being killed or seeing others die. It was Julie. The feeling in his gut when he’d thought something had happened to her. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like someone else having that much power over him. He’d spent most of his life getting rid of those ties and avoiding any new ones.
He drove faster, pushing his nice, safe Volvo probably beyond its comfort zone.
That appealed to Robie.
He didn’t much like comfort zones, his or anyone else’s.
His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. Blue Man needed to meet with him again. Right now.
I bet you do, thought Robie.
CHAPTER
38
NO PUBLIC PLACE this time. No Hay-Adams with lots of witnesses.
Robie didn’t have much of a choice. There were rules one had to play by or one was out of the game.
The building was sandwiched between two others in a part of D.C. that tourists would never tread. Even though the area was a high-crime one, none of the street punks ever bothered this place. It was not worth a bullet in their head or twenty years of their life in a federal cage.
Robie had to part with his cell phone before entering the secure room, but he would not give up his gun.
When the guard asked for it the second time, Robie told him to talk to Blue Man. The resolution was simple. Either he kept the gun or Blue Man could meet with him at the McDonald’s across the street.
Robie went in with his gun.
Blue Man sat across from him in the small room. Nice suit, solid-color tie, neatly combed hair. He could be somebody’s grandfather. Robie assumed he probably was somebody’s grandfather.
“First, Robie, we have not found your handler. Second, there was no man with a rifle found in the alley you identified.”
“Okay.”
“Next,” said Blue Man. “The attempt on your life last night?”
“The shooter was in a vehicle that looked a lot like a U.S. government ride.”
“I don’t think that is likely.”
Robie pointedly tapped the tabletop. “You can’t find my handler or a shooter I knocked out in an alley, but you think somebody gunning for me in a set of federal wheels is unlikely?”
“Who’s the girl?” asked Blue Man.
Robie didn’t blink, because he’d been trained not to. You blink, you lose. A blink was like a weak throw into triple coverage because you lacked the stones to wait for another receiver to break open as a