“Johnson was a washout, sir. If he hadn’t disappeared, one day he would have been let go.”
“He wasn’t the only one, sir,” said Robie. “Of the twenty-odd people the FBI arrested, half of them had ties to the agency. And that doesn’t include Roy West out in Arkansas.”
“Roy West was fired,” snapped Tucker, “and I am well aware of the others, Robie. Thank you, though, for pointing it out,” he added sarcastically.
“But the ultimate goal,” began the president. “Obviously, taking out all those leaders would have led to great upheaval in the Muslim world. But was that the only reason?” He glanced around at the others with a questioning look.
Tucker shot a piercing look at Whitcomb, who did not seem to notice it. He glanced at Robie. There seemed to be an understanding between Robie and the APNSA. In fact, they had spoken before the meeting.
Whitcomb cleared his throat and said, “It could be that whoever was behind this had plans to replace the dead leaders with others who believed as they did.”
“So it was internal?” said the president. “Meaning factions competing for power within the Middle East were behind the attack in Canada?”
“That appears to be the case,” said Whitcomb.
“Well, thank God it didn’t come to pass,” said the president.
“Yes, thank God,” added Tucker.
The door to the Oval Office opened and the president’s “body man” looked in. It was his job to keep the president on schedule.
“Sir, two-minute warning before your next meeting.”
The president nodded and rose. “Gentlemen, you will keep me posted on how this goes. I want to know about any new developments. We will maintain the status quo until such time as conditions on the ground dictate otherwise, but I want a full-court press on this.”
They gave him their assurances, shook hands, and said their goodbyes.
On the way out, Robie cornered Blue Man. “We haven’t spoken in a while.”
“You’ve been off the grid for a while.”
“I took your advice. It turned out to be good advice.”
Blue Man drew closer to Robie and spoke in a low voice. “And her?”
Robie nodded. “As good as advertised.”
“What will happen to her?”
“I don’t know. If it were up to me she walks free.”
“It’s not up to you,” pointed out Blue Man.
“Like the president said, we maintain the status quo until conditions on the ground dictate otherwise.”
“And you really think the conditions on the ground are going to change?”
“Actually, they always do.”
“But not here.”
“Especially here,” said Robie.
Robie caught up to Tucker as he was about to climb into his SUV outside the White House.
“Give us a minute,” Tucker said to his aide as he glanced questioningly at Robie. The two men strolled a few feet away.
“Interesting meeting,” said Robie.
“Why did I think I was being ganged up on?” Tucker said accusingly.
“What did you expect? Your agency is in the middle of this whole thing.”
“You’re really close to getting your ass canned.”
“I don’t think so.”
Tucker snarled, “You work for me, Robie.”
“I work for the guy in the White House. And if you want to get really technical, the American people are actually my boss.”
“That’s not how it works, and you know it.”
“What I know is that people are dead. And not just the bad guys.”
“Who are you talking about, exactly?”
“A woman named Gwen. And a guy named Joe. And a guy named Mike.”
“I don’t know who they are.”
“They were good people.”
“So you knew them?”
“Not really, no. But someone I respect vouched for them. So watch your back, Director.”
Robie turned to walk away.
“Who do you respect, Robie? Would that be Jessica Reel? The person who murdered two of my people?”
Robie turned back. “They might have been people, Director. But they weren’t your people.”
Robie walked off.
Tucker stared after him for a few moments and then stalked to his vehicle.
Through the gates of the White House watching all of this was Jessica Reel.
She and Robie exchanged a glance and she turned and strode off.
CHAPTER
80
ROBIE WAITED ON THE BENCH at Roosevelt Island, right across from the Kennedy Center in the Potomac River. In the middle of a million people the small island was heavily wooded, isolated, and private. It was not open to the public today, which made it even more private. There was a good reason for this.
It was a fine day, bright, sunny, and warmer than normal.
Robie looked up at some birds soaring by and then his attention turned to the man coming down the path toward him. He was walking slowly. He saw Robie and gave a small wave before taking his time heading over.
He sat, unbuttoned his jacket, and leaned back.
“Nice day,” said Robie.
“It will be nicer when we nail the bastard,” said Whitcomb.
“I’m looking forward to that too.”
“You spooked Tucker after our meeting.”
“He was definitely on the defensive.”
“As he should be. Tucker is a disgrace, but difficult as it is to admit, I don’t see how we do it, Robie. The proof just isn’t there. No matter how hard we want it to be.”
“The shooters had been with the agency.”
“His motive?”
“With the world gone to hell the CIA would skyrocket right to the top in budget dollars and turf. The twin holy grails of the intelligence sector.”
Whitcomb shook his head. “Circumstantial only. His lawyers would tear that to pieces. Not one of the shooters had anything useful?”
“They were out of the loop. Hired guns only. Kent is dead. Gelder, Decker, Jacobs. All loose ends tied up.”
“He was efficient, I’ll give him that.”
“One mistake, though.”
“What’s that?”
“We have one loose end that was forgotten.”
“What?” asked Whitcomb eagerly.
“A who, sir. A woman. Karin Meenan. She worked at the CIA as a physician. She was the one who put the tracker device on me. She knew Roy West. And she knew about the white paper.”
“White paper?”
“We called it the apocalypse paper. It diagrammed in meticulous detail an attack on the G8, country by country, assassination by assassination, executed by Islamic terrorists. Then it outlined what would be done after the killings to maximize the global chaos.”
“But the attack in Canada centered on Arab leaders, not the G8.”
“Right. They took West’s document and reversed it. An attack on Muslim leaders by—” Here Robie fell silent.
“Not by factions in the Middle East,” said Whitcomb. “As we told the president. But by Tucker and those idiots at CIA who can’t seem to get this nation-building crap out of their system.”
“I’m afraid new evidence cuts against that conclusion, sir.”
“New evidence?”
Robie waved his hand, motioning over the person who had just appeared on the entrance path. Whitcomb saw the woman coming forward, her steps hesitant.
“I had her locked up in a little hideaway,” said Robie. “I was fearful for her safety.”
Karin Meenan stopped in front of them. Robie said, “I’d introduce you, but you two already know each other.”
Whitcomb stared up into the woman’s frightened features. Then he turned to Robie. “I’m not sure what’s going on here.”
“A friend of mine did some research on you and had an epiphany. Did you enjoy playing football at the Naval Academy with Roger Staubach? He was a couple of year
s ahead of you and you played on the D-line and he was the QB. But it still must’ve been a thrill for you. Heisman Trophy winner, Navy’s last one. Hall of famer. Super Bowl winner and MVP. Pretty awesome.”
“It was, actually, but I think we need to get back to the matter at hand.”
“He had a nickname too when he played. Quite the scrambler. The running quarterback. What was that nickname again?”
Meenan said in a small voice, “Roger the Dodger.”
“That’s it,” said Robie. “Roger the Dodger. Same handle that the person gave Roy West. West sent him the apocalypse paper. That’s where this all started. Now, I don’t think it was Staubach.” He pointed at Whitcomb. “I think it was you.”
“I am very confused here, Robie. You and I have already discussed this. We put the blame squarely on Evan Tucker. You grilled him after the meeting with the president with my full blessing.”
“Just done to throw you off your guard. To get you to come here and meet to discuss what you thought would be Tucker’s professional destruction. Tucker’s a prick, but he’s not a traitor. You’re the traitor.”
Whitcomb slowly stood and looked down at him. “I can’t tell you how disappointed I am. And I’m more offended than disappointed.”
“I’ve spent my whole working life killing bad guys, sir. One monster after another. One terrorist at a time. I’m good at it. I want to continue to do it.”
“After these accusations today, I’m not sure you’ll be able to, quite frankly.”
“Patience at an end? Didn’t want to wait for people like me to keep pulling triggers? Wanted to clear the game board in one move?”
“If you have one shred of evidence, you better reveal it now.”
“Well, we have Dr. Meenan here, who will testify that she worked with you directly to set this up. And that she put a tracker into my body on your orders.”
Whitcomb stared menacingly at Meenan. “Then she would be lying and she will be charged with perjury and she will go to prison for a very long time.”
“I just don’t see this going to a trial.”
“Once the president hears of this I am sure that—”
Robie cut him off. “The president has already been briefed. Everything I’ve just said, he’s already been told. It was at his suggestion that I meet with you.”
“His suggestion?” Whitcomb said blankly. Robie nodded.
“But there is no evidence tying me to any of this.”
“There is evidence, beyond Meenan here. Sir, you might want to sit down before you fall down.”
His legs shaky, Whitcomb sat back down on the bench. “You said you don’t see this going to trial?”
“Too much of an embarrassment for the country. We don’t need that. There are lots of terrorists out there. That would hurt our ability to go after them. You don’t want that, right?”
“No, of course not.”
Robie looked up at Meenan. “Thank you. There are people waiting for you over there.” He pointed to his left where two men in suits hovered.
After she walked off, Robie said, “Your security detail has been dismissed, by the way.”
Whitcomb glanced in the direction from which he had come. “I see.”
“Your resignation might be in order.”
“Did the president suggest that too?” Whitcomb said dully.
“Let’s just say that he didn’t object when it was raised.” Robie looked at the man. “Did you know Joe Stockwell?”
Whitcomb slowly shook his head. “Not personally, no.”
“Retired U.S. marshal. Good guy. Got in with Kent, gained his trust. Found out what was going on. You had him killed. And a woman named Gwen. Nice old lady. And a former agency guy named Mike Gioffre. They all meant the world to a friend of mine.”
“What friend would that be?” But Robie could tell that Whitcomb already knew the answer.
Robie pointed to his right. “Her.”
Whitcomb looked to where Robie was pointing.
Jessica Reel stood ten feet from them, her gaze on nothing other than Whitcomb.
Robie stood and walked down the trail to the exit. He never once looked back.
The island in the middle of a million people now contained only two people.
Gus Whitcomb.
And Jessica Reel holding a pistol.
To his credit, Whitcomb looked unafraid.
“I’ve been to war, Ms. Reel,” he said by way of explanation as she drew close to him. “I’ve seen many people die. And I almost died myself a couple of times. You never get used to it, of course. But the shock level is diluted.”
“Gwen Jones, Joe Stockwell, and Michael Gioffre did die,” she replied. “You had them killed.”
“Yes, I did. But the world is complicated, Ms. Reel.”
“And it’s also extremely simple.”
“You look at it in different ways. You think you see an opportunity for improvement. Vast improvement. And sometimes you take it. That’s what we did here. We were tired of the killing, the chaos, and always being at the edge of the precipice. We just wanted a more stable, peaceful world by having people we could actually deal with in power over there. A few lives to save millions? How can that possibly be wrong?”
“I’m not here to judge what you did. That’s really not my concern.” She raised her weapon. “There have to be others besides the ones we know. Who are they?”
He shook his head and smiled grimly. “Now, do you want me to kneel? Do you want me to stand? Whatever you say I’ll do. You have the gun, after all.”
“You have family.”
For the first time Whitcomb looked concerned. “They knew nothing of any of this.”
“I don’t care.”
“I would please ask you to not harm them. They’re innocent.”
“Gwen was innocent. And so were Joe and Mike. And they had families.”
“What do you want?”
“Who else was behind this?”
“I can’t.”
“Then I’ll start with your oldest daughter. She lives in Minnesota. And after that your wife. And then your sister, and I’ll keep going until there’s no one left.” She pointed her pistol at his head. “Who else?” she asked.
“It won’t matter. They’re outside this country, completely untouchable.”
“Who else? I won’t ask again.”
Whitcomb gave her three names.
She said, “Congratulations, you just saved your family.”
“You give me your word that you will not harm them?”
“Yes. And unlike some people, I do keep my word.”
“Thank you.”
“One more thing. DiCarlo?”
“She was too close to figuring things out. It pained me, but there was too much at stake.”
“You’se a bastard.”
“So stand or kneel?” he said.
“I don’t care, really. But I want you to close your eyes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Close your eyes.”
“I will have no trouble watching you kill me,” Whitcomb replied.
“It’s not for your benefit. It’s for mine.”
Whitcomb closed his eyes and waited for his life to end.
When no shot came and the minutes passed by, Whitcomb finally opened his eyes.
The island now contained only one person.
Jessica Reel was gone.
CHAPTER
81
“I COULDN’T PULL THE TRIGGER,” Reel told Robie.
It was later that afternoon. They were sitting in Robie’s apartment. Reel looked totally dejected.
“It was sanctioned,” he said.
“I know it was sanctioned.” She paused. “I told him to close his eyes. Like you told me to. When he opened them I was gone.” She looked up at him. “Just like you were.”
“It was your choice. But I have to say I’m surprised.”
She let out a long breath. “You let me live, Robie, when everyt
hing you’ve done the last dozen years was telling you to pull the trigger on me.”
Robie sat down next to her. “You didn’t deserve to die, Jessica.”
“I killed people. Just like Whitcomb.”
“It’s not the same.”
She snapped, “At every important level it is the same.”
Robie remained silent.
Reel wiped her face. “He was just an old, tired man sitting there. And he wasn’t afraid of dying.” She rose, went to the window, and stared out, her forehead pressed to the cool glass. “I couldn’t pull the trigger, Robie, even though I wanted to.”
“He wasn’t an old, tired man. He was quite the warrior on the football field and off. Special forces in Vietnam, killed his share of the enemy. Guy was quite the badass in his day. And during his tenure as the APNSA, he orchestrated the killing of more members of terrorist organizations than any of his predecessors. He always goes for the jugular. Not a guy you would want against you. Kent found that out. So did Decker.”
“So why are you telling me all this?” Reel asked.
“To let you know that you have more compassion than he or I do. I would have shot him and not even thought twice about it. And he would have done the same to you.”
“So what will happen to Whitcomb?”
Robie shrugged. “Not our concern. I don’t see him going to trial, do you?”
“So...?”
“So just because you didn’t pull the trigger doesn’t mean that someone else won’t. Or maybe they’ll bury him in some cell at Gitmo.”
“Pretty high-level guy to go out like that. Media will be all over it.”
“The media can be controlled. But let’s hope no more high-level guys attempt something like this.”
“So what happens to me now?” she asked.
Robie knew the question was coming. It was certainly a legitimate one. And yet he wasn’t sure he knew the answer.
“The fact that they sent you after Whitcomb tells me that things are back to the status quo.” He looked at her. “Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I’ll ever know. If I couldn’t pull the trigger on Whitcomb, who’s to say I’ll ever be able to pull the trigger again?”
“You’re the only one who can ultimately answer that.”
The Hit (2013) Page 34