“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 we’ll ever know the whole truth,” said Tucker. “And you’ll never get me to believe that Jim Gelder was involved in any of this.” He glanced at Robie. “And the people responsible for his death, and that of Doug Jacobs, will be brought to justice.”
Robie simply stared back and said nothing.
The president cleared his throat and the other men sat up straighter. “I believe that we dodged a very large bullet. This is not the time for celebration, of course, because we have tough times ahead.”
“Agreed, Mr. President,” said Tucker. “And I can assure you that my agency will do all it can to ensure that those tough times are met head-on.”
Robie and Whitcomb shared a raised eyebrow over that comment.
Whitcomb waited until it seemed the president wasn’t going to respond to Tucker’s statement. “I agree that we have many problems ahead of us. If, as Mr. Robie believes, there were moles at the agency—”
“For the record that is a statement I highly dispute,” interjected Tucker.
“You’ve been off the grid for a while.”
“I took your advice. It turned out to be good advice.”
Blue Man drew closer to Robie and spoke in a low voice. “And her?”
Robie nodded. “As good as advertised.”
“What will happen to her?”