The Hit

Robie cut him off. “The president has already been briefed. Everything I’ve just said, he’s already been told. It was at his suggestion that I meet with you.”

“His suggestion?” Whitcomb said blankly. Robie nodded.

“But there is no evidence tying me to any of this.”

“There is evidence, beyond Meenan here. Sir, you might want to sit down before you fall down.”

His legs shaky, Whitcomb sat back down on the bench. “You said you don’t see this going to trial?”

“Too much of an embarrassment for the country. We don’t need that. There are lots of terrorists out there. That would hurt our ability to go after them. You don’t want that, right?”

“No, of course not.”

Robie looked up at Meenan. “Thank you. There are people waiting for you over there.” He pointed to his left where two men in suits hovered.

After she walked off, Robie said, “Your security detail has been dismissed, by the way.”

Whitcomb glanced in the direction from which he had come. “I see.”

“Your resignation might be in order.”

“Did the president suggest that too?” Whitcomb said dully.

“Let’s just say that he didn’t object when it was raised.” Robie looked at the man. “Did you know Joe Stockwell?”

Whitcomb slowly shook his head. “Not personally, no.”

“Retired U.S. marshal. Good guy. Got in with Kent, gained his trust. Found out what was going on. You had him killed. And a woman named Gwen. Nice old lady. And a former agency guy named Mike Gioffre. They all meant the world to a friend of mine.”

“What friend would that be?” But Robie could tell that Whitcomb already knew the answer.

Robie pointed to his right. “Her.”

Whitcomb looked to where Robie was pointing.

Jessica Reel stood ten feet from them, her gaze on nothing other than Whitcomb.

Robie stood and walked down the trail to the exit. He never once looked back.

The island in the middle of a million people now contained only two people.

Gus Whitcomb.

And Jessica Reel holding a pistol.

To his credit, Whitcomb looked unafraid.

“I’ve been to war, Ms. Reel,” he said by way of explanation as she drew close to him. “I’ve seen many people die. And I almost died myself a couple of times. You never get used to it, of course. But the shock level isdiluted.”

“Gwen Jones, Joe Stockwell, and Michael Gioffre did die,” she replied. “You had them killed.”

“Yes, I did. But the world is complicated, Ms. Reel.”

“And it’s also extremely simple.”

“You look at it in different ways. You think you see an opportunity for improvement. Vast improvement. And sometimes you take it. That’s what we did here. We were tired of the killing, the chaos, and always being at the edge of the precipice. We just wanted a more stable, peaceful world by having people we could actually deal with in power over there. A few lives to save millions? How can that possibly be wrong?”

“I’m not here to judge what you did. That’s really not my concern.” She raised her weapon. “There have to be others besides the ones we know. Who are they?”

He shook his head and smiled grimly. “Now, do you want me to kneel? Do you want me to stand? Whatever you say I’ll do. You have the gun, after all.”

“You have family.”

For the first time Whitcomb looked concerned. “They knew nothing of any of this.”

“I don’t care.”

“I would please ask you to not harm them. They’re i

“Gwen was i

“What do you want?”

“Who else was behind this?”

“I can’t.”

“Then I’ll start with your oldest daughter. She lives in Mi

“It won’t matter. They’re outside this country, completely untouchable.”

“Who else? I won’t ask again.”

Whitcomb gave her three names.

She said, “Congratulations, you just saved your family.”

“You give me your word that you will not harm them?”

“Yes. And unlike some people, I do keep my word.”

“Thank you.”

“One more thing. DiCarlo?”

“She was too close to figuring things out. It pained me, but there was too much at stake.”

“You’se a bastard.”

“So stand or kneel?” he said.

“I don’t care, really. But I want you to close your eyes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Close your eyes.”

“I will have no trouble watching you kill me,” Whitcomb replied.

“It’s not for your benefit. It’s for mine.”

Whitcomb closed his eyes and waited for his life to end.

When no shot came and the minutes passed by, Whitcomb finally opened his eyes.

The island now contained only one person.

Jessica Reel was gone.

CHAPTER

81

“I COULDN’T PULL THE TRIGGER,” Reel told Robie.

It was later that afternoon. They were sitting in Robie’s apartment. Reel looked totally dejected.

“It was sanctioned,” he said.

“I know it was sanctioned.” She paused. “I told him to close his eyes. Like you told me to. When he opened them I was gone.” She looked up at him. “Just like you were.”

“It was your choice. But I have to say I’m surprised.”

She let out a long breath. “You let me live, Robie, when everything you’ve done the last dozen years was telling you to pull the trigger on me.”

Robie sat down next to her. “You didn’t deserve to die, Jessica.”

“I killed people. Just like Whitcomb.”

“It’s not the same.”

She snapped, “At every important level it isthe same.”

Robie remained silent.

Reel wiped her face. “He was just an old, tired man sitting there. And he wasn’t afraid of dying.” She rose, went to the window, and stared out, her forehead pressed to the cool glass. “I couldn’t pull the trigger, Robie, even though I wanted to.”

“He wasn’t an old, tired man. He was quite the warrior on the football field and off. Special forces in Vietnam, killed his share of the enemy. Guy was quite the badass in his day. And during his tenure as the APNSA, he orchestrated the killing of more members of terrorist organizations than any of his predecessors. He always goes for the jugular. Not a guy you would want against you. Kent found that out. So did Decker.”

“So why are you telling me all this?” Reel asked.

“To let you know that you have more compassion than he or I do. I would have shot him and not even thought twice about it. And he would have done the same to you.”

“So what will happen to Whitcomb?”

Robie shrugged. “Not our concern. I don’t see him going to trial, do you?”

“So...?”

“So just because you didn’t pull the trigger doesn’t mean that someone else won’t. Or maybe they’ll bury him in some cell at Gitmo.”

“Pretty high-level guy to go out like that. Media will be all over it.”

“The media can be controlled. But let’s hope no more high-level guys attempt something like this.”

“So what happens to me now?” she asked.

Robie knew the question was coming. It was certainly a legitimate one. And yet he wasn’t sure he knew the answer.

“The fact that they sent you after Whitcomb tells me that things are back to the status quo.” He looked at her. “Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I’ll ever know. If I couldn’t pull the trigger on Whitcomb, who’s to say I’ll ever be able to pull the trigger again?”