“Gus Whitcomb? Why?” Tucker said sharply.

“They came and got me. Mr. Whitcomb was blunt, to the point, and not very happy with what I told him.”

Tucker took another sip of coffee. This time it was a tactical mistake on his part, because Robie could see his hand trembling.

“What exactly did you tell him?”

“You really want to know?”

“Of course I want to know.”

“There was a good reason that I was able to get DiCarlo out of that ambush alive last night.”

“What was that?”

“We had a guardian angel who came to our rescue.”

“What angel?”

“Her name I think you know. Jessica Reel?”

Tucker’s lips parted, but no words came out at first. Finally, he blurted out, “That’s ridiculous.”

“I would have thought so too, since I’ve been tasked to find her because she’s a traitor to her country. At least that’s what I was told.”

“What did DiCarlo want to meet with you about?”

“She had some interesting things to tell me about past missions.”

“Like what exactly?” demanded Tucker.

“Like missions that shouldn’t have been, missing personnel and equipment. Dollars into the abyss.” Robie went on to tell Tucker in greater detail what DiCarlo had shared. After he was done, Tucker was about to say something, but Robie held up his hand and pointed to his left.

Their food was here.

The circle of men parted and the plates were set before them.

“Anything else?” squeaked the waiter. “Coffee freshened up?”

“I’m fine,” said Tucker, and he glanced at Robie.

“Little more coffee, thanks.”

The waiter filled Robie’s cup and fled.

Robie started eating but Tucker just sat there.

“Did DiCarlo give you exact details of these missions, personnel, equipment, and money?”

“No. But if I were you I would try to find out.”

Tucker slowly shook his head. Robie couldn’t tell if it was to indicate disbelief or frustration or both. “Are you certain it was Reel?”

“Same height, same build. It was a woman.”

“So you can’t be sure?” said Tucker.

“How many women do you have on the payroll that could take on a half dozen trained killers in a gun battle and win?” said Robie. “Hell, how many guys do you have who can do that?”

Tucker started cutting up his eggs. The two men ate for a few minutes in silence.

Robie put the last bite in his mouth, drained the rest of his coffee, and sat back, tossing his paper napkin on the table.

Tucker did the same. “If it was Reel, why?” he asked.

“That’s what I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Why would I have the answer to that?”

“You’re the DCI. If you don’t have the answer, who the hell does?”

“Maybe DHS.”

“Are you still not playing well with your big brother?”

Tucker shrugged. “For decades the FBI was the eight-hundred-pound gorilla everybody else hated. Now DHS is the nine-hundred-pound grizzly we hate even more than the Bureau.”

“It’s not like you guys go out of your way to cooperate with anybody.”

“More than you think, Robie.”

“Then pick up the phone and call your counterpart at DHS and ask nicely for the return of your employee.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Explain it.”

“I don’t have time to explain it. I have important meetings I’m already late for.”

Robie stood. “Okay. Then I’ll let you get on to your importantmeetings. But if you can find the time you might want to see if DiCarlo is even still alive.”

“I care very much about Janet, Robie, don’t make it seem like I don’t. She’s a friend as well as a colleague.”

“Actions, Director. They always trump the rhetoric.”

“What’s your next step in finding Reel?”

“There is no next step. Until someone explains to me what the hell is going on, I have officially retired from the field.”

“You would be disobeying a direct order,” barked Tucker.

“So arrest me.”

Robie pushed through the shield of guards and left the IHOP.

When Tucker started to leave, the trembling waiter sidled over and handed him the bill and then fled. The CIA director stared down at it for a moment and then slowly pulled out his wallet.

CHAPTER

37

ROBIE SAT IN HIS APARTMENT, thinking that he needed information in a way that was discreet. Such information was often hard to come by when people were watching you.

Yet he did work in the clandestine division. And thus he had resources and a certain skill set. He intended to employ some of them right now.

He drove to a mall, parked in the covered garage, and went shopping. In one hour he had visited three different shops and carried three different bags.

He got some coffee, sat at a table, and drank it all down. He also had a muffin, even though he wasn’t really hungry.

He got up, threw the empty cup away, and walked on.

He wasn’t certain he was being followed, but he had to assume he was.

He had to believe his interest marker at the agency had gone up significantly. And there were other agencies that might be involved now too.

DHS apparently had Janet DiCarlo. They had a lot of resources available to them, including satellites. Satellites were hard to beat. But there were ways to do so. They could only spy on what they could see. And sometimes what they thought they were seeing wasn’t what it really was.

He checked his watch. As good a time as any. They were really going to have to hustle now.

He didn’t go back to his car. He took an escalator down to the Metro.

He was instantly surrounded by a horde of commuters scrambling to make trains. He wedged in with a group trying to board the train just entering the station. He got on and dropped his bags, which caused a scrum at the entrance to the train.

A voice announced that the train doors were closing. Robie kept walking, down the aisle of the train car. He looked back as he reached the end of the car. Two men were fighting their way onto the car by forcibly pushing the scrum out of the way.

Robie didn’t know them. But he did know what they were.

They were his tail. The signs were unmistakable.

Right before the doors closed, Robie stepped out of the other door.

The train slid away from the station while Robie walked to the exit, invisible within a wall of other travelers.

He didn’t go up the escalator. He slipped through a door that was nearly hidden in the wall. It led to a maintenance area.

Robie ran into two men in the hall inside this area. When they asked him what he was doing there, he flashed his creds and asked for the nearest exit. They told him and he was through it in under a minute.

He flipped his jacket inside out, turning his brown jacket blue. He slipped a ball cap from his pocket and put that on. Sunglasses covered his face.

He hit the street, found a cabstand, and within twenty minutes was on his way out of the city.

He got out of the cab well short of his destination. He walked the rest of the way.

The shoe repair shop was in a blighted area of run-down homes and businesses. The bell tinkled when Robie opened the door. It automatically closed behind him.

He paused, took off his hat and glasses, and looked around. It contained everything that one would expect to see in a shoe repair shop. The only difference was that the gent who owned it did not count on resoling shoes for all of his daily bread.