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71
MCLEAN, VIRGINIA
CIA SAFE HOUSE
They were drinking coffee strong enough to launch a rocket when Savich said to Lucy, “Nikki Bexholt’s group had to think you overheard what they said at the house and lured you to that gas station. One of them, probably Bexholt, knocked you out. They brought you here to a CIA safe house. Have I got this right, Armstrong?”
“No, of course you don’t. I’ve told you what my assignment is.”
Savich continued, “Not a good solution, but it would buy them some time. Maybe enough time to clean everything incriminating from that house?”
Lucy said, “I saw boxes in what was the living room, and computer equipment, obviously the place was where they were working. But on what, Dillon?”
“I have some ideas, but nothing solid.” He tapped his fingers on the kitchen table, rose suddenly. “We need to get to that house, Lucy. They’re not stupid, they’re going to be tearing down the operation and removing evidence as fast as they can. Can you show us where it is?”
“Can I borrow your cell phone, Dillon?” She opened his Google Earth app, pinpointed where she was, and followed 7 back to the exit Nikki Bexholt had taken. Half a minute later, she zoomed down to street view. “Here it is. That’s the house. Right there.”
“Take us closer, Lucy. Good. Show me where you were standing.”
“Right here, by the living room window.”
Sherlock tracked down the address on her own cell. “Listen to this. It’s listed as a protected historical property called Redemption House. It was a part of the underground railroad for escaping slaves. Now, the owner—” She searched, then, “It was purchased three years ago by an LLP, a limited liability partnership, owned by an offshore corporation. In other words, difficult to connect to Nikki.”
“Let’s go, then,” Lucy said, and bounded to her feet, swayed where she stood, and sat down again.
Savich said, “Ollie, I want you to take Lucy to the hospital, get her checked out.”
“It’s nothing, Dillon, really—”
“Lucy, you were hit on the head and drugged, and you’re pregnant. We’re not going to take any chances with your health.”
Armstrong stared at Lucy. “You’re pregnant?” He shook his head. “I thought you were fat.”
Lucy smacked him in the head.
Savich said with a straight face, “What I want you and Ollie to do is take Armstrong with you and contact Mr. Besserman, tell him what’s happened. He’ll take care of Armstrong. Ruth, you and Sherlock are with me. Let’s move out. Ruth, get us some backup.”
