The Hit, Page 25

  Look who’s talking, Robie. You may not decide who lives or dies. But you actually pull the trigger.

  Robie and Blue Man spent a silent minute looking around at people getting into and out of cars. Going into shops. Coming out with bags. Holding their kids’ hands.

  Blue Man caught Robie’s eye.

  “Ever miss it?”

  “What?” asked Robie.

  “Being part of the normal world.”

  “Not sure I ever was.”

  “I was an English lit major at Princeton. I wanted to be the William Styron or Philip Roth of my generation.”

  “So what happened?”

  “I went to a government recruitment session with a friend of mine who was interested in going to work for the FBI. There were some men there at a table with no sign on it. I stopped by to see who they were. Fast-forward well over thirty years and here I am.”

  “Sorry you didn’t end up writing the great American novel?”

  “Well, there’s some consolation. My world is full of fiction.”

  “Lies, you mean.”

  “A difference of no real distinction,” said Blue Man. He glanced at Robie’s arm and leg. “Have you been back in to get those looked at?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do it. The last thing we need is you dying from an infection. Do it today. I’ll set it up. Same place as last time.”

  “Okay. Any word on DiCarlo?”

  Blue Man frowned. “I understand she has been taken under DHS’s jurisdiction.”

  “That I know. Can you explain to me how that is possible? Because even Tucker wasn’t aware of that until I told him.”

  “I’m not sure I can. Because I’m not sure I understand it either, Robie.”

  “Is she alive?”

  “I would think it inconceivable that DiCarlo would have died and we would not be informed.”

  “What is DHS’s role in all this?”

  “They protect the homeland. We, on the other hand, have no authority to operate in this country.”

  “And that, as you well know, is a long-standing piece of fiction.”

  “Maybe it was. Maybe it’s not anymore.”

  Robie could see that Blue Man was serious. “That bad?”

  “Apparently.”

  “And the reason?”

  “What did DiCarlo tell you that night? Why did she want to meet in the first place?”

  “She only had two guards with her. What does that tell you?”

  “She felt compromised inside her own agency?”

  “Something like that.”

  “What else?”

  Robie drank some of his coffee. “Isn’t that enough?”

  “Not unless there’s more.”

  “Maybe I’m feeling compromised too.”

  Blue Man looked away, his features unreadable. “I guess I can understand that.”

  “Different dynamic, like you said.”

  “The problem is if none of us trust each other the other side has already won.”

  “That would be true, if we were sure who was on the other side.”

  “Jessica Reel?” asked Blue Man.

  “What about her?”

  “Whose side is she on?”

  “I’ll tell you what I told Gus Whitcomb. I think it was Reel who saved my ass and DiCarlo’s life.”

  “I thought you were going to say that.”

  Robie was surprised by this comment and his features showed it. “Why?”

  “Because I think Jessica Reel might be on our side.”

  “And yet she’s killed two of our people.”

  “Follow that out logically, Robie.”

  “So you’re saying that Jacobs and Gelder were not on our side.” Reel had called them traitors, and Robie was surprised to see that Blue Man was entertaining this possibility. He was usually an agency man through and through.

  “That’s right. If Reel is actually on our side.”

  “And you’re saying that’s true?”

  “I’m saying it’s possible.”

  “Then the number two at the agency is a traitor?”

  “Possibly. But then a traitor can have many different definitions. And agendas.”

  “Who else thinks this?”

  “I haven’t talked to anyone other than you about it. If you hadn’t suggested leaving the office I was going to. These are not statements I make lightly, Robie. I hope you know that. This is probably not a lone turncoat who does it for money like Aldrich Ames or Robert Hanssen. This might be systemic, and I don’t think the motivation is simply money.”

  “So if they are traitors, who were they working for? And what were they working on? And how did Reel find out?”

  “All good questions, and I have no answers for you.”

  “And DHS’s involvement?”

  “Others must suspect there’s a problem. They might have taken DiCarlo for safekeeping.”

  “And Evan Tucker?”

  “He must be a very worried man about now. Did you tell him about Reel being at DiCarlo’s?”

  Robie nodded.

  Blue Man took a long drink of coffee. “Then he’s probably more worried than I thought.”

  “You heard about Roy West?”

  Blue Man nodded. “Apparently he went way off the grid and into the world of paranoid lunacy.”

  “He was an analyst. What exactly did he analyze?”

  “Why do you want to know? You don’t think it has anything to do with—”

  “I can’t afford to discount anything right now.”

  “He was nothing special. Had a rep for writing nonsense scenario papers. Probably why he was let go. I don’t see how he plays into this.”

  Robie wanted to tell him exactly how West and Reel played into this, but he didn’t. “Tucker wanted me to keep going after Reel.”

  “And what did you say to that?”

  “I said no.”

  “No one will ever have to tell you to grow a pair, Robie.”

  “The question is, what do I do now?”

  “You did not hear this from me,” replied Blue Man.

  “Okay.”

  “If I were Will Robie, I would think about going off the grid.”

  “And do what?”

  “Find Jessica Reel. And if you do, you might just find all the answers.”

  I did find her, Robie thought. And I let her go.

  Blue Man finished his coffee and rose. “And then you can do something else, Robie.”

  Robie looked up at him. “What’s that?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? You can thank Reel for saving your life.”

  After Blue Man walked off, Robie muttered, “Too late. I already returned the favor.”

  CHAPTER

  47

  ROBIE SAT ON THE EXAM TABLE, his shirt and pants off while Dr. Meenan checked his burns.

  “They look better. But it’s good you came in. There was some drainage and infection. I’m going to clean the areas and put in some sutures to stabilize the affected areas and just to make sure we don’t have any problems. And I’ll give you another shot and more meds.”

  “Okay.”

  She removed some of the dead skin, cleaned the areas thoroughly, and then sutured some portions where the skin had pulled apart. Once finished with that, she brought over a syringe, rubbed alcohol on his left arm, stuck him, and then placed a Band-Aid over it. “So you did come back in one piece.”

  “I did, yes.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Robie glanced at her. “Why?”

  “We lose enough good people. You can put your clothes back on.”

  Robie slipped his pants back on.

  She said, “I’ll have the meds bagged up. They’ll be available for you out front in about five minutes.”

  “Thanks.”

  Robie buttoned up his shirt as Meenan made some notes in her file. Without looking up she said, “Did you hear about that crazy stuff in Arkansas? Did you know the guy used to work h
ere?”

  “Roy West?”

  “Yeah. I actually knew him. Well, I examined him once.”

  “What for?”

  “Sorry, patient confidentiality. It even applies here. It wasn’t for anything serious. But I can tell you he was a strange guy.”

  “Lot of strange guys here.”

  “No, I mean really strange.” She paused and finished writing, closed the file, and put it away in a rack on the desk.

  “Can I tell you something in confidence?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  “I mean, really?”

  “I mean really, sure.”

  She smiled at this, but then her smile faded to a frown. “He was creepy. And he seemed like a holier-than-thou type. Like he had this big secret he was just bursting to tell me.”

  “Probably lots of people here like that.”

  “Maybe. But he stuck out.”

  “Well, in the end it didn’t help him.”

  “Killed in a militia war, I heard on the news.”

  “So they say.”

  “You know different?” she asked sharply.

  “No and I’ve got my hands full with my own stuff.” He laced up his shoes and slipped off the table. “I appreciate you patching me up.”

  “It’s what they pay me for.”

  “So this West guy was kind of a psycho. Heard he got canned from here.”

  “I’m not surprised. I can’t believe he passed the psychological vetting. He just seemed too unstable.”

  “What else do you remember about him? He ever mention anyone to you?”

  “Anyone like who?”

  “Just anyone.”

  She smiled slyly. “I thought you said you had your hands full.”

  “I’m naturally curious.”

  “Well, he did mention that he had friends in high places. Very high places, he said. I thought he was just blustering. He was pretty low-level at the agency.” She blushed.

  “What?” asked Robie.

  “Well, I thought he was saying all that to impress me.”

  “You mean he was hitting on you?”

  “Yeah, I think he was.” She slapped him playfully on the arm. “And don’t sound so surprised.”

  “You think he was serious?”

  “I’ve thought about that. If I had to guess, I think he did have someone higher up who had his back.”

  “Not that high up. He got canned.”

  “You’re right. Anyway, I’ll just leave it that he was trying to hit on me.” She slipped a business card from her pocket. “Just in case you lost my other card, here’s another one with all my contact info, including my personal cell. If you have any problems with the injuries please don’t hesitate to call.”

  As Robie took the card, her fingers grazed across his. She didn’t meet his eye but her cheeks were slightly red.

  Robie had a strong feeling that she was hitting on him.

  CHAPTER

  48

  NICOLE VANCE WAS WAITING FOR him this time. And she wasn’t wearing any makeup. The woman was all business tonight.

  Robie sat down.

  “I already ordered you a drink,” she said.

  He eyed her glass. “Gin?”

  “Ginger ale. I’m still technically on duty.”

  “Long day.”

  “Long life. At least I hope.” She eyed his right arm. “You’re carrying that a little stiffly. What gives?”

  The burns were healing, but slowly. And the arm was stiff, the new sutures Meenan had put in making it even stiffer. He wondered how fast he could draw his weapon. Maybe not fast enough. Yet he had done okay out in the hinterlands of Arkansas. Adrenaline made pain manageable. It was only later that everything hurt.

  “Old age.”

  She smirked. “Nice try.”

  “Why are you still on duty?” asked Robie.

  She sipped her ginger ale; her gaze held a faraway look. “When an investigation is going nowhere I tend to work overtime. Whole world’s going to hell, Robie.”

  “What’s new?”

  “You heard about this stuff in Arkansas. With Roy West?”

  “Saw the news,” he replied.

  “He was with your agency.”

  “Never knew him.”

  “He didn’t last long, apparently. Then he went off half-cocked and turned into some antigovernment freak. Don’t you vet your people better?”

  “Not my job,” said Robie.