As soon as Robie drove off, Reel said, “What the hell was that all about?”
“What? Having a meal with someone?”
“People like us don’t have meals with...normal people.”
“Why not? Is that somewhere in the agency manual?”
“We just took down a terrorist leader, Robie. And barely escaped. We could just as easily be in a hole somewhere in Syria with our heads cut off. You don’t just sit down to a meal with a teenager and shoot the shit after that.”
“I used to think that too.”
“What do you mean, ‘used to’?”
“I mean I used to think that way too. But I don’t anymore.”
“I don’t understand you.”
Robie drove to the next intersection, took a right, braked hard at the curb, and got out. Reel did too. They looked at each other over the roof of the car.
“I can’t keep doing this job and cut off the rest of the world around me, Jessica. It can’t be an either/or. I have to live a life. At least a little bit.”
“That thing back there with the kid? What if someone followed you there? What kind of life might she have then?”
“Our side already knows about Julie. And I take precautions. But I can’t protect everybody every minute of every day. She could step out in front of a bus and be just as dead as if someone had shot her.”
“That is a specious argument at best.”
“Well, it’s my argument. And my life.” He paused. “Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy meeting her?”
“No. She seems like a great kid.”
“She is a great kid. I want to be part of her life.”
“You can’t do that. We can’t be part of anyone’s life. Our friends end up dead because of us.”
“I refuse to accept that.”
“It’s not up to you, is it?” she snapped.
“Then let’s walk away from this shit. Start over.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m being serious.”
She looked at him, saw that this was true. “I don’t think I can walk away, Robie.”
“Why not?”
“Because this is who I am. This is what I do. If I stopped...”
“It seemed you were prepared to stop when all this happened.”
“That was revenge. I never looked past that. If you want the truth, I never thought I would survive it.”
“But you did. We bothdid.”
They both lapsed into silence.
She rested her arms on the roof of the car. “I didn’t think anything would ever scare me, Robie.” She exhaled a long breath. “But this does.”
“It’s not like a hit where you cross the i’s and dot the t’s. You don’t really think, you just execute. This, this you really have to think about.”
“And one and one don’t necessarily make two.”
“Almost never make two,” he amended.
“So how do you make sense out of it?”
“You can’t.”
Reel looked up. The rain had started falling after several days of dry weather. It was gloomy, depressing; even objects in the near distance were hard to make out.
As the rain picked up, neither of them made a move to get into the car. In about a minute they were soaked, but they just stood there.
“I’m not sure I can live like that, Robie.”
“I’m not sure either. But I think we have to try.”
Reel glanced down at her pocket. She pulled out the Distinguished Intelligence Cross and looked at it.
“Did you ever in a million years think you would get one of these?”
“No.”
“We got this for killing a man.”
“We got this for doing our job.”
She dropped the medal back into her pocket and looked at him. “But this is not a job you walk away from.”
“There aren’t many who have.”
“I’d rather leave it all in the field.”
“From the look of the world right now, you might get your wish.”
She looked away. “When Gwen and Joe were alive I knew I had at least two people who would mourn me. Who were my friends. That was important to me.”
“Well, now you have me.”
She stared back at him. “Do I? Really?”
“Close your eyes,” he said.
“What?”
“Close your damn eyes.”
“Robie!”
“Just do it.”
She closed her eyes as the rain continued to fall.
A minute passed.
She finally reopened them.
Will Robie was still there.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To Michelle, for taking care of everything else in the way only you can.
To Mitch Hoffman, for always seeing the trees and the forest.
To David Young, Jamie Raab, Sonya Cheuse, Lindsey Rose, Emi Battaglia, Tom Maciag, Maja Thomas, Martha Otis, Karen Torres, Anthony Goff, Bob Castillo, Michele McGonigle, and everyone at Grand Central Publishing, who support me every day.
To Aaron and Arleen Priest, Lucy Childs Baker, Lisa Erbach Vance, Nicole James, Frances Jalet-Miller, and John Richmond, for always having my back.
To Anthony Forbes Watson, Jeremy Trevathan, Maria Rejt, Trisha Jackson, Katie James, Natasha Harding, Aimee Roche, Lee Dibble, Sophie Portas, Stuart Dwyer, Stacey Hamilton, James Long, Anna Bond, Sarah Willcox, and Geoff Duffield at Pan Macmillan, for leading me to number one in the UK.
To Arabella Stein, Sandy Violette, and Caspian Dennis, for being so good at what you do.
To Ron McLarty and Orlagh Cassidy, for continuing to astonish me with your audio performances.
To Steven Maat at Bruna, for keeping me at the top in Holland.
To Bob Schule, for always being there for me.
To Janet DiCarlo, James Gelder, Michael Gioffre, and Karin Meenan, I hope that you enjoyed your characters.
To Kristen, Natasha, and Lynette, for keeping me straight, true, and sane.
And to Roland Ottewell for another great copyediting job.
the hit
David Baldacci is a worldwide bestselling novelist. With his books published in over 45 different languages and in more than 80 countries, and with over 110 million copies in print, he is one of the world’s favourite storytellers. His family foundation, the Wish You Well Foundation, a non-profit organization, works to eliminate illiteracy across America. Still a resident of his native Virginia, he invites you to visit him at www.DavidBaldacci.com, and his foundation at www.WishYouWellFoundation.org, and to look into its programme to spread books across America at www.FeedingBodyandMind.com.
Critical acclaim for David Baldacci’s novels
‘Baldacci inhabits the skin of his creations – tripping us up with unexpected empathy and subtle identification’
Sunday Express
‘As expertly plotted as all Baldacci’s work’
Sunday Times
‘Baldacci cuts everyone’s grass – Grisham’s, Ludlum’s, even Patricia Cornwell’s – and more than gets away with it’
People
‘As usual, Baldacci delivers the goods in fine style, with thrills and spills aplenty’
Independent on Sunday
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The Camel Club series