As the Malibu flew forward, Caleb hit the horn. He hadn’t been joking before to Stone. It was very loud, like a shriek and a train whistle rolled into one.
Reinke glanced over his shoulder at the Malibu as it raced by honking its horn.
He looked at Peters and muttered, “Stupid high school kids joyriding. Happens all the time around here.”
Inside Reinke’s house, both Stone and Reuben raced to the front bedroom window when they heard the car horn. That’s when they saw the headlights turn into the drive.
“Oh, shit, that’s Reinke,” Reuben said.
“And his friend,” Stone added as the two men climbed out of the car. Then he glanced at the Malibu disappearing down the street. “I told them to call us, not race around sounding like a banshee,” Stone said irritably.
They hurtled downstairs, and then in the nick of time Stone remembered and grabbed Reuben by the shirt an instant before he would’ve stepped into the infrared arc of the motion detector mounted by the front door. They crawled forward as they heard the front door being unlocked. They hit the kitchen as the front door opened and the beeps started to sound. They were getting off the floor as they heard someone punching in the code and the beeps stopped.
“Okay,” Stone whispered. “The alarm’s off, so we can open the back door.”
Reuben did so as quietly as possible, even as they heard a set of footsteps coming their way. They bolted out of the house, shutting the door behind them, and turned the corner of the house.
And ran right into Warren Peters, who was pulling a trash can back behind the house.
“What the hell—” was as far as Peters got before Reuben’s massive fist sent the NIC man flying head over heels backward. Stone and Reuben ran for the motorcycle. They were on it and Reuben had kick-started the bike to life when Reinke, hearing all the commotion, came flying out of the house.
He spotted Stone and Reuben, and his hand went inside his jacket as he ran forward. He had a clear line to shoot. What he didn’t count on was a rusted Malibu going partially airborne driven by a crazed rare book specialist with a terrified OCD genius counting madly in the copilot’s seat.
“Holy mother of God!” Milton screamed as Reinke went flying across the windshield, rolled off and landed in a heap in the grass. Then Milton resumed his ritual counting.
Peters had staggered to his feet by this time. However, Caleb, his mind and body seemingly possessed by the spirit of a youthful daredevil, rammed the Malibu into reverse, put the gas pedal to the floor and sped backward, the wheels spitting gravel like machine-gun bullets.
Peters screamed as the car bore down on him. He got off one shot and dove out of the way. He was coming up for another attempt when the motorcycle flew past him. As Reuben drove, Stone was sitting on the lip of the sidecar swinging his helmet by the strap. It caught Peters on the side of the head, and he went down for the count.
It was a full ten minutes before Peters and Reinke began to stir. By the time they had regained consciousness, the Camel Club was long gone.
CHAPTER
46
THE AUTHORITIES’ RESPONSE TO what had happened to Alex Ford and Kate Adams was not exactly encouraging. According to the police the brake line seemed to have popped all by itself. Not unusual for a vehicle that old, the police said. And there was no evidence of any shooter at Kate Adams’ home, other than what Alex had said he’d seen and heard. Two of his bullets were found embedded in the fence behind where he shot. No other slugs were recovered.
It was the next morning, and Alex was sitting in Jerry Sykes’ office listening to the official version of last night’s event.
Sykes stopped pacing and looked at him. “The people who tried to help you after your ‘accident’ reported you were acting in a bizarre manner and then you took off running. Alex, all this crap just isn’t like you. Is there something going on in your life you want to talk about?”
“Absolutely nothing other than someone wanting me dead,” Alex said stonily.
Sykes dropped into his chair and picked up a mug of coffee. “Why in the hell would anyone want you dead?”
“Some guy put a freaking gun to my head, Jerry. I didn’t take the time to ask him why.”
“And nobody saw this guy except you. So again, I’m asking you what happened between yesterday and today to make somebody want you dead?”
Alex hesitated. He wanted to tell Sykes about the discovery of the boat but figured that admitting he’d disobeyed another order from the director would be the end of his career.
“I’ve got a lot of years of damn good service behind me. Why all of a sudden would I start making this sort of crap up?”
“You put your finger on it. You’ve put in a lot of years. The director cut you a break yesterday. He could’ve canned your ass on the spot. Hell, I probably would’ve if I’d been in his shoes. Don’t blow a gift from the top, Alex. You’re not getting another one.”
“Fine, but can you at least put someone on Kate Adams’ house? I didn’t imagine that optics reflection.”
Sykes sat back. “I’ll call the D.C. police and ask them to have a car make some extra rounds. But that’s all. And consider that a gift.” Sykes looked at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting, and I think you have a post to stand.”
“Right. In the White House,” Alex said wearily.
“No, actually outside. You’ll have to work your way back inside the place.”
The Camel Club held a hasty meeting at Caleb’s condo early that morning. The first order of business was to congratulate the esteemed librarian and gutsy wheelman on his bravery. They had to wait a bit for that, however, as Caleb was in the bathroom still throwing up after realizing just how close he’d come to dying.
When Caleb finally emerged from the toilet Stone said, “I would like the official record to reflect that Caleb Shaw has earned the deepest thanks of the entire Camel Club membership for his extraordinary bravery and ingenuity.”
She shook her head, then took a deep breath and uncovered her face. “It is all right,” she said. “It is fine.”
Alex led her over to a bench. “You’re obviously not fine. Now, tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”
Adelphia took a series of replenishing breaths and then looked over at Stone’s tent again. “I no lie to you. I am fine, Agent Fort.”
“It’s Ford, but if you’re all right—” Then he followed her gaze to Stone’s tent. “Has something happened to Oliver?” he asked quickly.
“I not know that.”