The Hit

Robie didn’t budge. “You really want to waste time arguing over something that stupid?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s your future.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jessica. That’s my decision, and I’m sticking to it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Don’t ask me again.”

“But just so you understand the possible consequences.”

“Someone gave the order to Johnson to take out Kent. I want that person.”

“Loose ends, Robie. They’ll be finding Johnson’s body any minute now. That idiot was dead as soon as he pulled the trigger on Kent. No way they’re going to leave him alive.”

“We’re loose ends too,” he said.

“That’s right, we are,” she said, looking suddenly cheerful.

“What?” said Robie, noting her upbeat expression.

“Loose ends are a two-way street. They want to get to us. But to get to us they have to come to us.”

“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.

The president put up his hands. “Evan, no one is testifying here. Gus is just saying that we need to get to the bottom of this. As much as we can, at least.”

Whitcomb continued, “If there are moles at the agency, then that needs to be resolved. We have four dead men who were all highly placed in various sectors of this country. We have a near catastrophe averted in Canada thanks to the actions of Mr. Robie and the FBI. What we have to do is co

“Of course,” said Tucker. “I never said there shouldn’t be an investigation.”

“A thorough one,” added Whitcomb.

“Do we have any new leads on who killed Gelder and Jacobs?” asked the president.

“Not yet,” said Blue Man.

They all turned to look at him, as though they had forgotten he was even there.

He continued, “But we are hoping for that status to change.”

The president said, “And this Johnson person?”

“Dick Johnson,” said Whitcomb, looking at his notes. He glanced up at Tucker. “He once worked for the CIA.”

The president shot a look at Tucker. “From one of ours to one of theirs, Evan? How is that possible?”

“Johnson was a washout, sir. If he hadn’t disappeared, one day he would have been let go.”

“He wasn’t the only one, sir,” said Robie. “Of the twenty-odd people the FBI arrested, half of them had ties to the agency. And that doesn’t include Roy West out in Arkansas.”

“Roy West was fired,” snapped Tucker, “and I am well aware of the others, Robie. Thank you, though, for pointing it out,” he added sarcastically.

“But the ultimate goal,” began the president. “Obviously, taking out all those leaders would have led to great upheaval in the Muslim world. But was that the only reason?” He glanced around at the others with a questioning look.

Tucker shot a piercing look at Whitcomb, who did not seem to notice it. He glanced at Robie. There seemed to be an understanding between Robie and the APNSA. In fact, they had spoken before the meeting.

Whitcomb cleared his throat and said, “It could be that whoever was behind this had plans to replace the dead leaders with others who believed as they did.”

“So it was internal?” said the president. “Meaning factions competing for power within the Middle East were behind the attack in Canada?”

“That appears to be the case,” said Whitcomb.

“Well, thank God it didn’t come to pass,” said the president.

“Yes, thank God,” added Tucker.

The door to the Oval Office opened and the president’s “body man” looked in. It was his job to keep the president on schedule.

“Sir, two-minute warning before your next meeting.”

The president nodded and rose. “Gentlemen, you will keep me posted on how this goes. I want to know about any new developments. We will maintain the status quo until such time as conditions on the ground dictate otherwise, but I want a full-court press on this.”

They gave him their assurances, shook hands, and said their goodbyes.

On the way out, Robie cornered Blue Man. “We haven’t spoken in a while.”

“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?”