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“Agent Drummond, the SAC would like to see you in his office.”
“Would you please tell him I’ll be back downtown as soon as we’re through here? I am not involved, I am only observing.”
“I’m sorry, Agent Drummond, but he’s requested you return to Federal Plaza immediately. With Agent Caine. We’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”
That was official. He was in trouble.
31
What’s wrong now?” Mike asked.
“Zachery wants us back now.”
She sighed. “I was afraid of that. He finds out everything so quickly. You know we’re breaking protocol as it is by even being here. Don’t worry, though, maybe he only wants to hear what happened firsthand.”
“Three dead bodies, Mike.” He glanced over at Allie McGee. “Make that four.”
“Not your fault. It will be all right, you’ll see. You did nothing wrong. Let me tell Louisa we’re leaving. The traffic will be a nightmare, we’ll put the siren on. Drive real fast. That should make you feel better.”
He didn’t think speed would help anything. He nodded. “I’ll see you in the lobby.”
He took the elevator down, replaying the fight, the shooting. He didn’t see he’d had any other choice in the matter; another moment and the second thug would have shot Mike through the temple. He made a quick decision, pulled out his mobile, and punched in a number he knew by heart.
“Nick, good to hear from you. I was hoping you’d call and check in. How’s the first day treating you? I wish I could have been there to see you walk through the doors.”
“I wish you had too, Uncle Bo. Because you might have been happier to see me this afternoon than Milo Zachery is about to be.”
Instant flatline. “Tell me what happened.”
Nicholas gave him a quick rundown of the day. Bo whistled, long and low. “You do manage to step in it, don’t you, Nick?”
“I wonder where I may have learned that. Do you have any advice?”
“Tell Milo the absolute truth. You already knew there was going to be a lot of interest in you, and with the deaths, and the shooting, there will have to be a formal inquiry. But you’ve done nothing wrong. Every action has been according to policy. So go in with your head high, my boy, and don’t worry.”
Nicholas saw Mike come out of the elevator. Her hair was falling out of the ponytail, her sleeve was torn, and there was all that damned blood on her shirt. He swallowed. “Thank you, Uncle Bo. I’ll let you know what they say.”
“You do that. And come for dinner this weekend. Bring Mike. We’d love to catch up.”
“I will, and I’ll extend the invitation, thank you.” He hung up, and stuck his mobile in his pocket.
“Ready?” Mike asked.
“To face the executioner, you mean? As I’ll ever be.”
26 Federal Plaza
6:30 p.m.
Zachery was standing by the window, looking out onto the New Jersey skyline.
“Sit,” he said brusquely when they came in. He didn’t turn around.
They sat. Finally, he turned to face them, hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “We’ve identified the man who killed Jonathan Pearce this morning, as well as the two men you brought down on Avenue A an hour ago. All three are German nationals, all three have lengthy criminal records.”
He nodded to the file folders on the coffee table, waited for them to open the files, then said, “You’ll see the first man, Mr. Olympic you called him, is Jochen Foer. As you know, he had the brain implant—his sheet is long and varied, but almost all his warrants are for murder. The man you shot in the head in the alley is Siegmund Brasch, and Heiner Veblen is the one you managed not to kill but arrest. Both are wanted by Interpol for trafficking and murder.”
“Hired assassins, then?”
