Thought some more, about life. About what it must be like to be out on your own, making life and death decisions on a daily basis, the subterfuge that went into that kind of existence, the ability to go for extended periods without touching base with anyone. Xander had been in the business himself, in a way. She knew how hard it had been on him. Surely it was hard on Robin Souleyret, as well. And maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t totally alone in this world.

Fletcher was arguing with the head of security now. She left him to it, dialed her Doberman, Marcos Daniels. He answered on the first ring.

“Dr. Owens? Can I help you?”

“I hope you can, Agent Daniels. Anything show up from the surveillance on Robin Souleyret’s place?”

“No, ma’am. Nothing. She’s not there, and we haven’t seen her go boo yet. The girl’s in the wind.”

“Maybe not entirely. She’s almost certainly in D.C. I think someone’s helping her, and it’s time to put some pressure on.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“First, find out who Robin might be working with. Even though she’s a sole operator and used to being on her own, she needs resources—money, weapons, everything. Find out who might be offering her succor. See if she has a man, or any record of boyfriends or girlfriends, all that jazz. These people can’t operate without a little help from their friends. I don’t think she’s on a sanctioned job, but just in case, you might want to take a look at our friends from Langley, too.”

“Got it.”

“And then, I need you to do a massive triage on Amanda Souleyret. Find me anyone and everyone she’s been in contact with in the past few weeks. Crash her systems, get into her email, rumble her life, everything you know how to do, and do it fast. Can you do that?”

“I can. Sure wish Mouse was around. That girl...” He drifted off.

“Call her in. Tell her we’ll pay her as a consultant. Make her sign every nondisclosure agreement we have, and make it very clear to her what the parameters are.” She went silent for a second, then said, “You did get her number, didn’t you, Daniels?”

“Um, yes, ma’am, I did.”

She couldn’t help it; she smiled. She thought she’d caught a flicker of interest between them. “Good. If you hit a brick wall with Amanda’s real accounts, try tying in the name Juliet Bouchard. It’s an alias she was using. I’m assuming, if she’s any good at her job, that the legend is backstopped well. Find the legend, and we’ll start finding some answers. Get moving. Report to me only, do you understand? And, Daniels? Watch your tracks. Robin Souleyret is a suspect now, and she’s dangerous. All right?”

“On it, ma’am. I’ll be back to you soon.”

He hung up, and she pocketed her phone. Maybe working for the FBI wouldn’t be all bad. And this protected Fletcher completely. If he didn’t know what she was up to, it wouldn’t rain down on his head. She was pretty damn sure Baldwin would have done exactly the same thing. Which meant he’d have her back.

Or she was becoming power-hungry.

Fletcher huffed over to her. “Who were you talking to?”

“Daniels. Checking on our surveillance. So far, we’ve got nada.”

“The security guard was right. The tapes were wiped. Not only from the afternoon, either. Whatever happened cleaned the whole day.”

“And what do you think happened?”

“Some sort of electronic surge, that’s my best guess.”

“Robin Souleyret has a great deal of electronic experience, yes?”

“Yes, she does.”

“I’m not up on all the latest spy technology, but I assume it’s very possible to have a micro-EMP made that would only work in a small area?”

“Entirely possible. Hell, you can get directions to make one of those on the internet—it’s not hard.”

“Then let’s throw that in as the possible cause of the problem and move along.”

The doors opened and the crime scene techs started rolling through, and Hart arrived right behind them.

When he saw Fletcher, he narrowed his eyes and marched over. “What in the name of hell is going on? We got bodies and crime scenes coming out our ears.”

“We’re trying to find out.” Fletcher filled him in as best he could. “We’re going to Sam’s place and regroup.” Hart smelled like pizza—he’d grabbed a slice on his way over—and Sam heard Fletcher’s stomach growl. “And eat, hopefully. Been a long time since lunch.”

“Ah,” Hart said. “You’ve got Xander the wunderkind working on this, don’t you?”

Sam smiled. “He found a link between his principal and Amanda Souleyret. I can only imagine what he’ll have for us when we get there.”

“Before you go, I have some bad news,” Hart said, and Fletcher groaned.

“More bad news? This day keeps getting better, doesn’t it?”

“The vaccines from Cattafi’s place never made it to the CDC lab they were supposedly heading to. It’s taken a while to sort through everything, but the gist is this—the CDC claims they were never contacted, and never picked up the vaccines.”

“What? Who the hell signed out the vaccines?” Fletcher asked tightly.

“The signature is scribbled, so we don’t have a name. He said he was from the CDC, picked up the vaccines from HAZMAT, signed all the paperwork, got in his car and left. Got him on camera—a big guy, wearing a ball cap with the name of a courier company that doesn’t exist on it. He’s gone, and the evidence is gone with him.”

Fletcher turned white with anger. “Holy shit. Holy shit, people. We are well and truly fucked.”

“Fletcher, now it’s time to call Girabaldi,” Sam said. “Everyone who’s tangled up in this case or discovers a facet of it is being tracked down and eliminated. We can’t contain the story if we can’t stop the people involved from being killed. Not to mention whoever is behind this has their hands on the vaccines. This is not good, and we need to move quickly.”

He breathed deeply a few times, thinking, then nodded. “I’m afraid you’re right. Girabaldi is the key. I just don’t know which side she’s on.”

Sam shook her head. “I don’t, either.”

“We’ll head over there right now, explain what’s been happening, and that we’re going public. We can’t let those vaccines be used against us. I will not have a terror attack in this city on my watch.”

“That’s a good plan, boss. I’m with you. You be careful,” Hart said.

“Yeah. You, too.”

Fletcher gave Hart some directions on what to recover from upstairs, and they set off, knowing the crime scene was well in hand.

They stepped out into the cooling fall evening. Sam had the oddest sense of dislocation. The gloaming was hovering around them, everything so clear, so perfect, and for that fraction of a moment as the sun began to set, light bouncing off the windshields of the cars lined up at the meters on the street, she saw the world around her with an unearthly clarity. It made her uneasy; things were too far out of control.

They started toward Fletcher’s car, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a car turn onto the street. A black sedan, very similar to the one Edgar Poe had described. The window started down.

Sam turned abruptly, grabbed Fletcher’s arm and pulled him toward her just as the bullet crashed into the building behind her.

Chapter 41

THERE WAS A second of calm before pandemonium broke out around them, and the gunman managed to get off another few shots.

Fletcher reacted quickly. He shoved Sam to the ground, stepped forward to the curb and returned fire. It wasn’t SOP, and the sedan was already pulling away, the tires screeching smoke. Suddenly Hart was there, too, the two men shoulder to shoulder, firing in unison, both in perfect triangle stances, mimicking each other, and the rear window of the sedan shattered.

The car lurched hard to the right, up onto the sidewalk, scattering pedestrians like a flock of birds hit with shrapnel, and slammed into the building one block down.