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The fact of Jacobs’s and Gelder’s murders didn’t bother him so much. Now that the plan was being executed, it was to his advantage that principal players started dropping. If the plan went awry it was always fellow conspirators who turned and brought you down.
Gelder probably would have held up, but he also had a lot to lose.
Jacobs was a weak link. He was a necessary part of the operation on the ground, but he came up short when real pressure was applied. He would have turned on them. If Reel hadn’t killed him Kent would have.
When they were back at the party, Kent glanced sideways at Decker as the ten-year-old birthday boy blew out his candles.
Decker was another weak link.
Kent should have known better than to enlist a congressman, but Decker had his value—his chairmanship of a committee that was of particular use to Kent. Now that value had been utilized and Decker’s importance had declined correspondingly.
And there was one other person on board.
He was not a weak link.
Kent, in fact, had to take precautions against this person arriving at the decision that he himself was a liability.
That was his bigger problem. If he was deemed to be a weak link by this partner, then his life was in grave danger. More danger, in fact, than having Reel on his trail.
Kent left the house with his youngster in tow. He watched Decker get into a Town Car with his son. The driver looked capable and was no doubt armed.
But there was only one of him.
Right before Decker climbed into the car he stopped and looked back at Kent.
The judge smiled and waved.
Decker waved back and then got into the car.
Kent climbed into his Jag. He had no guards with him. But he had his son. And from what he knew of Jessica Reel, she wouldn’t kill him in front of his boy. That moral compass of hers was his best protection.
Now if he could think of a way to glue his child to him, he’d be fine.
Absent that, he had to find Reel and kill her as quickly as possible.
And he thought he had a way to do just that.
And that plan involved a man named Will Robie.
CHAPTER
46
ROBIE PARKED ACROSS FROM THE school and waited.
He had returned to the D.C. area, put his truck back in the barn at his isolated old farmhouse, and taken a cab to retrieve his car from the mall.
He hadn’t heard from Evan Tucker since he had left the IHOP.
He hadn’t heard from anyone since he’d left the IHOP.
He didn’t take that as a good sign.
But he hadn’t been arrested. He took that as a plus.
He stiffened when Julie came out of the school building and walked to the bus stop. He sat lower in his car and watched her.
She was dressed in her typical kneeless jeans and floppy hoodie and dirty sneakers and carried the same overstuffed backpack. She tucked her long hair behind her ears and stared around.
She wasn’t listening to her music on her phone.
She wasn’t texting.
She was being observant.
Good, thought Robie. You have to be, Julie.
The bus came and she got on. When it pulled off Robie follwed. He followed all the way until the bus stopped and Julie got off. Then he watched her make it safely into her home. When she walked inside and the door clicked behind her Robie drove away.
He knew he couldn’t do this every day. But right now he just wanted to keep Julie safe. He just wanted to be accomplishing something positive.
He stared down at his phone and decided to just do it. He hit his speed dial.
Two rings later she answered.
“Unbelievable,” said Nicole Vance. “Did you misdial?”
He ignored her sarcasm. “You have time to meet?”
“Why?”
“Just to talk.”
“You never want to just talk, Robie.”
“Today I do. If you don’t have time, no worries.”
“I can make seven o’clock, not before.”
They made arrangements to meet and Robie clicked off.
He had time to do something and he decided to take full advantage of it. He made another phone call and arranged to meet with the man.
He really didn’t know what to expect, but he felt it was the path of least resistance. And to the extent that he trusted anyone, he trusted this person.
Thirty minutes later he was sitting across from Blue Man.
“I understand that several days ago you waylaid the director while he was being driven to work,” Blue Man said.
“Is that the scuttlebutt here?”
“Is it true?”
“I needed some answers.”
“Did you get them?”
“No, that’s why I’m here.”
“This is all above my pay grade, Robie.”
“That’s not an excuse I can accept.”
Blue Man fiddled with his tie and wouldn’t make eye contact.
Robie said, “Are we being recorded here?”
“Probably.”
“Then we need to go somewhere else.”
“Another IHOP? I heard about that. It’s now the stuff of agency lore, in fact,” said Blue Man, and he wasn’t smiling.
“Let’s make it a Starbucks.”
Twenty minutes later they walked into the Starbucks, ordered, got their coffees from the barista, and sat down at a table outside that was well away from all the other coffee drinkers. The wind was picking up, but for once it wasn’t raining and the sky didn’t look overly threatening.
They sipped their coffees and Blue Man huddled in his trench coat. To Robie he looked like a banker out for a cup of expensive perked coffee beans. He didn’t seem like a man who made life-and-death decisions. Who dealt with issues of national security as readily as other people made choices for lunch.
