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What are they saying?
He can’t tell.
The drone is passive, meaning it’s designed to observe and record. Anything more intrusive could be detected by whatever surveillance systems are hidden in the CIA director’s house. He also knows that some high-tech detection devices could sense the sparrow drone if it got any closer to the residence.
He waits.
Shadows move across the bay window at the front yard.
Using a control system in his lap, he lifts the drone and brings it closer.
Through the window, he sees Director Abrams.
She passes by.
A male comes into view, putting on a brown farmer’s coat and a Baltimore Orioles cap.
It’s Liam Grey.
Michael starts up the Mercedes and gets back into traffic.
He drives as fast as he can without breaking any traffic laws, keeping one eye on the display screen set into the dashboard. Liam moves away from the window. The drone pulls back some.
A shadow passes through the breezeway leading to the garage.
Move, move,he thinks, cursing a Range Rover dawdling in front of him.
The door to the garage swings up.
A black Audi Q7 SUV pulls out, one person in the driver’s seat.
Wearing an Orioles cap.
He types in a command to the drone, which will lock on to the Audi.
The Range Rover finally turns and gets out of the way.
He picks up a burner phone, punches in a programmed number.
“Pope,” comes the voice.
“I’ve got Grey,” he says. “He’s moving. Looks like he’s taking the Francis Scott Key Bridge, heading into Virginia.”
Pope says, “Good. First chance you get, end it.”
“On it,” Michael says, disconnecting the call.
Within twenty minutes he catches up with the Audi, heading north on the George Washington Memorial Parkway. He keeps at least two other vehicles between him and the Audi. A few times he drops back, letting the sparrow drone keep the tail going, just in case Liam is being paranoid, which would be the smart move on his part.
He has no idea where Liam Grey is heading and doesn’t really care.
All he needs are the few seconds to finish the job.
The Audi starts slowing down, moving to the right-hand lane.
Michael smiles.
Those seconds he needs seem to be coming right into his lap.
