The Hit

“They have our photo,” he said.

“Of course they do. Fortunately, we don’t look like that anymore.”

The guards reached the taxi. One of them yelled at Robie. He produced his papers and the man carefully examined them. Another guard poked his head in the back window and yelled at Reel. She kept her eyes down, showed her papers, and spoke deferentially. He looked in her basket and found a chunk of bread, a bag of nuts, a jar of honey, and a bottle of spices.

The car was searched and nothing out of the ordinary was found.

The first guard gave Robie a searching look and even tugged on Robie’s short beard. It remained firmly attached to his face. Robie cried out in pain and the man laughed and then yelled at him to continue through the checkpoint.

Robie put the car in gear and drove on.

They cleared Damascus and Robie pointed them north.

Nearly two hundred miles later they arrived on the outskirts of Aleppo, Syria’s largest city by population. It was dark now and they managed to slip into Aleppo without incident.

They had arranged for a safe house there. They changed, ate, and rested up for the second leg of their journey.

The next morning they climbed aboard bikes and started off with a touring group that would cycle through northern Syria to the Turkish border fifty miles away. The trip would normally take three days, a leisurely affair through ancient ruins and beautiful countryside.

They reached the Church of Saint Simeon Stylites, where the biking group pla

Robie and Reel didn’t choose that option. They left the group and biked on, past Midanki, made several exhausting climbs over poor roads, and then entered a downhill sprint to Azaz.

They continued on to Turkey, making their border crossing in the middle of the night. They watched military aircraft soaring overhead and dropping bombs, which destroyed targets on the ground. Gunfire also sounded during the night, but they ignored it, pushing ahead.

Two days later they biked into the outskirts of Mersin.

A day later they ferried across the Mediterranean to Greece, and from there they flew west. They landed in the United States a week after Ahmadi’s bloodied body hit the pavement in Damascus.

As soon as they reached America, Robie made a phone call. “We’re coming in,” he said. “Get the champagne ready.” And then he clicked off.

Evan Tucker slowly put down the phone.

CHAPTER

85

ALMOST ALL AWARDS CEREMONIES CONDUCTED by the CIA were held in secret. That was the nature of the beast. This one was particularly so.

It involved the Special Activities Division of the CIA’s National Clandestine Service. Within that division was the SOG, or Special Operations Group. They were the best of the best, ru

Most, but not all.

The ceremony was held in an underground room at the agency’s installation at Camp Peary in Williamsburg, Virginia. It seemed appropriate that the event was below ground, in the shadows, and unknown to the rest of the world.

In attendance along with about two dozen others were Evan Tucker, APNSA Potter, the three-star, and the DHS director, who had watched the events unfolding in Damascus. And Blue Man.

Robie and Reel were each awarded the Distinguished Intelligence Cross, the highest award given out by the CIA. It was analogous to the Medal of Honor and was usually given posthumously. It was only bestowed for extraordinary heroism in highly dangerous conditions.

Evan Tucker read off the citation listing their achievements not only in Syria but also in Canada. And then Reel and Robie came forward to accept their medals.

As Tucker presented the medal to Reel he hissed, “This is not over yet.”

“Clearly not,” she said.

When Potter gave the medal to Robie he whispered, “You need to choose sides on this, Robie.”

“So do you,” Robie replied. “And choose wisely.”

Robie and Reel walked out of the ceremony together. Outside, they were greeted by Blue Man.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” Robie said quietly.

“Just doing my duty.”

“Tucker isn’t taking this too well.”

“Hard to say how much longer he’ll be heading up the agency,” replied Blue Man.

“Days numbered?”

“They might be. He hasn’t been that stellar as a DCI.”

“You might want to consider the job.”

Blue Man shook his head. “No thanks. I’m broken down enough as it is.”

Robie and Reel drove out of Camp Peary and headed north. Neither of them spoke because neither had anything to say. The last couple of weeks had pushed them right to their maximum. They were both physically and mentally exhausted.

When they arrived back in D.C., Robie surprised her by saying, “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

He drove to the building and parked at the curb. About ten minutes later people started coming out of the building carrying large backpacks.

When Robie saw her he got out of the car and waved her over. Julie Getty approached cautiously.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“First you complain when I don’t come by, and now you complain when I do?”

Julie glanced in the car. “Who’s that?”

“Get in and you’ll find out.”

“Jerome is coming to pick me up.”

“No he’s not. I already phoned him and told him I was.”

They climbed in the car and Robie said, “Julie, Jessica; Jessica, Julie.”

The two women nodded at each other and then both looked questioningly at Robie as he steered the car into traffic.

“Where are we going?” asked Reel.

“An early di

Julie looked at Reel but she merely shrugged.

Robie drove them to a restaurant in Arlington. As they sat down to eat, Julie said to Reel, “How do you know Will?”

“Just a friend.”

“Do you work together?”

“Sometimes.”

“I know what he does,” she said bluntly.

Reel said, “So you know he can be a real pain in the ass, then?”

Julie sat back and a grin spread across her face. “I think I like you.” She looked at Robie. “Where is super agent Vance?”

“Doing super agent things, I imagine,” replied Robie.

Julie turned back to Reel. “So you do what he does?”

Reel bit into a roll. “We both do things a little differently.”

Robie said, “How’s school going?”

“Fine. What have you two been up to?”

“This and that,” said Robie.

“I read the news. I know what’s been going on in the world. Have you two been overseas lately?”

“Not lately, no,” said Reel.

“You lie as well as he does.”

“Is that bad?”

“No. I admire people who can lie well. I do it all the time.”

“I think I like you,” said Reel.

Robie put a hand on her arm. “I screwed up before, Julie. I won’t again.”

“So does this mean you’ll come by sometimes?”

“Yes, it does.”

“With her?”

“That’s up to Jessica.”

Julie looked at her.

“I can do that,” Reel said slowly, glancing uncertainly at Robie.

After di