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 three-hundred-pound lineman was about to plant you in the grass.
Robie had known Julie’s presence in all of this might come out. His observation post was obviously not entirely secret, or else he’d been followed.
He said, “She’s the linchpin. Anything happens to her we are screwed. So if you’re telling me that my handler found her out, you better be prepared to do something about her safety.”
The older man sat up straighter, adjusted his tie and then his cuffs. “You’ll need to explain that to me, Robie. The linchpin for what?”
“It won’t take long, because I don’t understand it all.”
He took only a few minutes to describe the murders of Julie’s parents, her escape attempt on the bus, the man attempting to kill her there, and the bus exploding.
“And you lost your gun at the scene. The one you had at Wind’s apartment?”
“I didn’t lose it. The bus exploding knocked me fifteen feet. I tried to find it before the cops showed up, but I was unsuccessful.”
“But the FBI did find it. And now they believe there’s a connection between the two cases.”
“Is there a connection?” asked Robie.
“Actually, we don’t know for sure. We’d like to talk to the girl.”
“No. You go through me. No direct contact.”
“That’s not how we do things. And I’m not sure you’re entirely clear on who’s running this show, Robie.”
Grandpa was showing some balls now. Robie was impressed. But just a little.
“You have a mole on the inside. Even if my handler is gone, he might not have been acting alone. If I were him I would have left somebody behind. You go pulling the girl in here, the mole gets wind of it, we lose her.”
“I think we can protect her.”
“You thought you could protect Jane Wind too, didn’t you?” pointed out Robie.
Blue Man adjusted his cuffs again. “Okay, for now status quo,” he said stiffly. “But I want a fuller debrief from you soon and follow-up reports.”
“You’ll get them,” said Robie. “And I’d like the same.”
“Do you go out of your way to rub people the wrong way?”
“If it involves the world of Islamic terrorists.”
“If,” said Robie. “But the guy was retired. What could he be involved in?”
“Terrorist cells are rarely obvious, Robie. At least the effective ones.”
“Did he spend time in the Middle East? Could he have been turned and sent here as a ticking time bomb?”
“A time bomb that had a change of heart? Maybe, and yes, he did spend time in both Iraq and Afghanistan.”