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“Okay, who else will be there?”
He looked up. “All the leaders of the G8. The Godfather scenario is a lot easier to play out if all of them are in the same place.”
“But, Robie, think of the security they’ll have there. Locked down tighter than anything else on the planet. There is no way they can hit that. No way.”
“After 9/11, I refuse to say anything is impossible.”
“But you said the president will be there. He’s not part of the target.”
“According to West’s paper he wasn’t. That doesn’t mean they’re sticking to the paper in every detail. Maybe they want to nail him too.”
“I get the bad guys coming after us. But why in the hel
l would people inside our government want to kill the president? And I still don’t understand why they would want to kill the G8 leaders.”
“They’re traitors. Maybe they were just paid off. It happens.”
Reel didn’t look remotely convinced. “But this is not some gundown in the street, Robie. This is global meltdown. If they are being paid off, where are they going to spend their money? They have to live on the planet too. It makes no sense.”
“You’re the one who believes that this white paper West wrote is at the center of this whole thing. If you no longer think that, I need to know, right now.”
“I do still believe it.”
“Because of Joe Stockwell?” he said.
She nodded, blinking slowly. “Yes.”
“Who did he get close enough to in order to figure this out?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did. He sent me enough details for me to know what was going on. He sent me the names on the list. He told me what they were planning to do based on that paper, at least as much as he knew of it.”
“Did he send you the paper?”
“No. I got that from another friend of mine who tracked it down.”
“Nice to have friends.”
“So do we go to Ireland?”
“If that’s where the hit is going to take place, I don’t see an alternative.”
“How about we tell Vance our suspicions? She can send word up the line.”
“They’re not going to take any action without meeting her sources. And she can’t tell them it’s us without getting herself arrested. Same reason we can’t do it. So that’s a no-go,” said Robie.
“You have a fake passport the agency doesn’t know about?”
“Of course,” said Robie.
“Then maybe it’s time to head to Ireland.”
Robie looked down at the screen once more. “Maybe it is.”
“I would like to check one other thing, Robie.”
“What’s that?”
She picked up her phone. “The friend.”
“Where is this friend? And can he or she be trusted?”
“Yes, he can. And he works at the mall.”
“The mall? Doing what?”
“He’s a whiz at video games. Among other things.”
“What can he find out for us?”
“The real name of Roger the Dodger. Because that son of a bitch is going to die and I’m going to pull the trigger.”
CHAPTER
67
THERE WERE FIVE MEN IN the room:
Evan Tucker.
Blue Man.
Gus Whitcomb, the APNSA.
The director of the FBI, Steve Colwell.
And the president of the United States.
The president said, “Any leads on who killed Howard Decker?”
Colwell shook his head. “Not yet, sir. It was an execution-style hit. We’ve recovered the bullet, but we have no gun to match it to.”
The president looked incredulous. “And no one saw anything? They were in a damn public park.”
“We’ve made inquiries,” said Colwell. “Unfortunately, we’ve turned up no witnesses yet.”
Tucker said, “There might not be any witnesses. If it was a professional hit they would have made sure there was no one around.”
“But for what purpose?” asked the president.
Blue Man said, “It might be tied to Decker’s Intelligence Committee activities.”
“Is it also tied to the deaths of Gelder and Jacobs?” asked the president. He leaned back in his chair and studied the other men in the room, looking them over one by one, awaiting an answer.
Tucker said, “Well, they all were involved in the intelligence field. At least it’s a common theme.”
The president gazed at Colwell. “And we’re no closer to solving those murders, are we?”
“We’re making some progress,” said Colwell lamely.
“Good to hear,” said Tucker. “Some progress is always welcome, whatever minimal form it might take.”
The two directors shared a nasty glance.
Whitcomb said sharply, “And there is the matter of the Amtrak train. Casualties and what looks to be a considerable cover-up.” He paused and gave a sideways glance at the president. “And there is of course the outstanding issue of Jessica Reel. And now, apparently, if I’m reading the tea leaves correctly, Will Robie.” He gazed at Tucker. “Is Robie still off the grid?”
Tucker nodded before glancing at Blue Man and then quickly looking away.
“And what might Robie be doing off the grid?” asked Whitcomb.
Tucker shrugged. “I wish I knew, Gus.”
Whitcomb continued, “When I spoke with Robie—before he went off the grid,” he added in a contemptuous tone—“he told me several troubling things.” He glanced at the president, who seemed to be aware of what Whitcomb was about to say.
The president nodded encouragingly. “Go ahead, Gus. We need to get all this aired.”
Whitcomb said, “Robie told me that Janet DiCarlo was troubled by unexplained incidents at the agency.” He looked sharply at Tucker. “Your agency.”
“What sorts of things?” Colwell wanted to know.
Whitcomb looked at his tablet. “Missing personnel. Missions that never should have happened. Missing money. Missing equipment.”
Colwell looked surprised but also somewhat pleased by this revelation.
“Serious allegations,” said the president.
“Serious allegations indeed,” echoed Colwell.
The president continued, “I am well aware that we had some enemies of
