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“Not that I like to broadcast that, but yeah, I am. Counterterrorism unit.”
“So national security and Edgar Roy. The connection?”
“All I can tell you is that when he was arrested and got sent up here the FBI received an order from very high up to put a tag on him. He was a special person of interest and we were to keep a close eye on him. There, I said it. Now what can you tell me?”
“We have some things in play, but nothing definitive.”
“Care to share?”
“No. You called me. You said you had some things to tell me. I’m listening. If you wanted this to be a two-way I wouldn’t be here.”
“Okay, okay, fair enough.” He spit out the gum. “I went to see Edgar Roy today.”
“Why’s that?”
“Just to talk to him.”
“And did he talk back?”
“Not so much, no.”
“Not so much?”
“Okay, nothing, nada. Guy never made a sound.”
“So?”
“So I never expected him to. He’s a genius. So smart, in fact, that he’s a very valuable asset of the federal government.”
“Is that right?”
He cocked his head. “Why do I think I’m preaching to the choir?”
“On the contrary. This is fascinating stuff.”
He stepped closer. “Okay, let’s cut to the chase. I did some hard digging. Called in a few favors and finally hit the mother lode. I know what Roy was doing for Uncle Sam. And I also found out that there are persons in D.C. who might have reason to wish Mr. Roy harm.”
“Who?”
Murdock drew closer. Only a few inches separated the two. “You ever heard of the E-Pro—”
Michelle felt like she’d been slapped. She tasted the liquid that had appeared on her face and then spit it out. The pain in her arm was mildly annoying. When Murdock fell into her two seconds later, she realized what was happening. She gripped him by the shoulders and jerked both of them behind her truck. The next shot hit twenty feet behind where she had been standing. It cracked the asphalt, sending pieces spiraling off into the grass. One shard hit the mailbox and left a deep gouge in the blue-painted metal. If she hadn’t moved, Michelle’s brain matter would have collided with the mailbox instead of the asphalt.
More gunfire opened up, different from the two rifle shots.
Dobkin.
Murdock was lying on top of Michelle.
“Murdock? Agent Murdock!”
She rolled him off her, checked his pulse. There was none. She looked at his face. Glassy eyes. Mouth slightly parted, blood trickling out. He looked surprised. She saw the hole in his shirt, stained red. She turned him over. Entrance wound midspine. Kill shot. She looked down at herself. Blood on her face. His blood.
She looked further down at her arm.
My blood.
The round had exited his chest and found her arm. She slipped off her jacket, rolled up her sleeve. It was only a nick. Something scrunched underfoot. She picked it up. It was the misshapen rifle round. She placed it in her jacket pocket.
