by CW Browning
“Is everything OK?” Michael asked, watching as she stared at her phone in silence for a beat.
Viper raised dark eyes to his.
“I just got the green light. Literally,” she added, a trace of amusement in her voice.
Michael nodded slowly, then stood.
“I'll take that as my cue to leave,” he said. “I need to hit the road anyway.”
Alina nodded and stood up, walking with him to the door. They stepped outside into the night and Michael found himself staring at a black hawk, perched on the railing next to the steps.
“Oh! Before I leave,” he exclaimed, turning to her. “It was bothering me for the past few days how I knew the name Dominic DiBarcoli.”
“Do you know it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. When Blake told me the name, I recognized it, but couldn't place it,” Michael told her. “I remembered tonight while I was talking to Blake. I met the executive from Trasker this morning for brunch. Blake asked what hotel, and when I told him, he said he was there once for a fund-raiser. That's when it hit me. I met Dominic DiBarcoli a few months ago at fund-raiser in that same hotel.”
“Fund-raiser for what?” Alina asked sharply.
“It was a political thing,” he said with a shrug. “Chris asked me to go in his place. I stayed for a few hours and then left as soon as I could.”
“Who introduced you?” Viper asked softly.
Michael shook his head.
“I have no idea,” he confessed and Viper suppressed a sigh. “I've been trying to remember all night, but I really don't recall. However, it tells us that Dominic has ties to DC, which is significant.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
Michael nodded and turned to start down the steps.
“Michael?”
He turned to look up at her.
“Yes?”
“Be careful tomorrow. I don't need another grave in Arlington to visit.”
Michael stepped back up onto the steps so they were on the same eye level. Reaching out, he touched her cheek gently.
“Neither do I,” he said quietly. “So, take care of yourself, too.”
“If anything happens, make sure that Hemi gets to Lani Baker,” Alina said, her eyes meeting his.
Michael stared at her for a long moment before nodding.
“I will,” he promised. “Just make sure nothing happens.”
Chapter Fifty
Hawk glanced at his watch and strode across the wide expanse of marble floor to the front desk in the hotel lobby. He smiled at the woman behind the counter, his blue eyes warm and friendly. She smiled back, her gaze sweeping over him appreciatively.
“Hello, can I help you?” she asked as he stepped up to the counter.
“I hope so,” Damon said, flashing another smile. “I was supposed to meet Mr. DiBarcoli in the lobby twenty minutes ago. Unfortunately, the cab got stuck in traffic and I just got here. Would you mind calling his room to let him know I'm here?”
The woman shook her head regretfully.
“I'm so sorry, but you just missed him,” she said. “He left about ten minutes ago for the gala. You may be able to catch him there.”
Damon glanced down at his jeans.
“I'm not dressed for that,” he murmured.
She laughed.
“No, you're not,” she agreed, “but if you hurry, you might catch him before he goes in. There's always a long security line. The Willard is one of the more secure venues in the city, obviously.”
Damon winked.
“Obviously. Thanks! That's a good idea. I'll try to get him before he goes in.”
Hawk turned and headed for the entrance. It had been easy enough to discover which hotel was hosting Dominic. His lips curved faintly as he exited the hotel and emerged onto the city street. It was even easier finding out where Dominic was headed. Thank the Lord for friendly women!
He turned left and started down the street. The Willard was only two blocks away. He could cover the distance quickly on foot. Damon went around a couple and joined the throngs of pedestrians out and about in the capitol city. Even though darkness had fallen, the streets were teeming with activity. The Saturday night crowd was out in full force.
Damon moved through the people quickly and silently, navigating easily through the crowds. He was very familiar with Washington, DC, but as he strode toward the Willard, Damon was struck with the thought that it was also strange to him. He was so used to moving around in foreign cities, hearing foreign languages that he spoke as well as his own, and seeing foreign faces and storefronts, that now the presence of Americana seemed out of place to him. This was his country. These were his people and this was his language, and yet he felt strangely as if it were more foreign to him than Moscow or Istanbul.
Did Viper feel this way when she was in DC? Or when she went into Philadelphia, a city she had known all her life? Hawk knew she was just as comfortable as he was overseas. Did she experience this bizarre feeling of being a stranger at home?
Damon shook his head. Perhaps the globe-trotting was wearing thin. He thought for a minute, and then frowned. Last fall, after spending some time in New Jersey with Viper taking on a Cartel, he went home to his ranch for a couple of weeks. Since then, he could count on one hand the number of weeks he spent stateside. The last time he went home, it took his bull mastiffs a few minutes to realize who he was. That was a few minutes too long, as far as he was concerned. Viper was worried about getting too comfortable and making too many connections at home, but Hawk was starting to wonder if that wasn't exactly what he wanted after all. He didn't want to feel like a stranger in his own land. He wanted to feel like he was home.
Hawk crossed a side street and frowned at the crowd gathering on the wide pavement up ahead. The front entrance of the Willard was further ahead, but the crowd growing on the sidewalk was a good hundred feet from the prestigious hotel. Someone cried out and another voice called for someone to call 911. His eyes narrowed and he instinctively scanned the crowds and the road before the hotel for signs of surveillance. There were none. The traffic was flowing normally and no one was standing in one spot, with the exception of those individuals clustered on the sidewalk ahead.
Hawk reached the edge of the crowd. With his above-average height, he was able to see over the heads and shoulders of the chattering people before him. His lips tightened at the sight commanding all the attention. A man was lying on his side on the pavement, a pool of blood spreading out from under him. Another man dressed in black tie was crouched beside him, fingers searching for a pulse in the neck.
“Buddy, I don't know if you should be touching him,” a man said from the crowd.
“I'm a doctor,” Black Tie answered shortly.
Hawk watched as the doctor gently turned the man onto his back, and found himself looking at the face of Dominic DiBarcoli. His white shirt front was soaked with the blood pouring from a wound just below his sternum. A woman gasped and hid her face in her companion’s shoulder with a cry.
“He's been stabbed!”
Hawk moved unobtrusively to his right, sliding his phone out of his pocket as a ripple of murmurs and exclamations went through the crowd. He never took his eyes off the body on the pavement. The professional in him saw at a glance that Dominic was stabbed just under the sternum, and the blade most likely entered the heart itself. He watched as the doctor leaned over the body, trying to determine the extent of the injury. Damon paused. He had managed to make his way directly in front of the body, slipping between two men, his phone held unnoticed by his side.
“He's dead,” the doctor announced, looking up. “Did anyone see anything?”
There was a general murmur of negatives and everyone looked at each other as they shook their heads. Hawk looked at the man next to him, shaking his head.
“I just got here,” he said. “Do you know what happened?”
“Me too,” the man replied, shaking his head. “I didn't see anything. What's this
world coming to? A man gets stabbed just walking down the street?”
“Unbelievable,” Hawk murmured.
“Here come the police,” someone announced in relief as colored lights lit up the street behind them and a siren pierced through the night.
Hawk stared down at the body, his finger tapping a button on his phone. No one was paying any attention as he quickly moved it so the camera was facing the body on the ground. He tapped a button again and activated the video camera, slowly encompassing the whole body and making sure to pause on Dominic's face.
“Thank God!” someone else exclaimed. “This is just too terrible!”
Hawk glanced up as the police car came to a stop at the curb. The doors opened and two officers jumped out, heading toward the crowd purposefully. The crowd parted for them and they began hustling everyone back and directing them to the side.
“I want everyone to stay here,” one of the officers told them. “We'll need to talk to all of you.”
However, the tall, dark-haired man no one would remember had already disappeared.
Viper watched as Michael backed out of his spot and did a K turn in the drive. She lifted her hand in a wave as he honked before pulling away. Her hand fell back to her side as he disappeared around the side of the house and she turned to go back in, feeling suddenly melancholy.
She was just sliding the door closed behind her when the clean phone Hawk gave her began vibrating in her other pocket. Her heart thumped and she pulled out the phone, absurdly pleased to hear from him.
“Yes?”
“You were right,” Hawk informed her. “They didn't waste any time.”
“Dominic?”
“Stabbed outside the Willard.”
Viper went over to drop onto the couch tiredly.
“Any sign of the attacker?”
“No. I got there after it happened,” he replied. “I got a video of the body. Not bad, considering I couldn't see what I was doing.”
Alina couldn't stop the grin pulling at her lips.
“You took a video?” she repeated. “And I thought I was cold-blooded.”
“You need proof for Solitto, right?” he demanded. “Well, you have it.”
Alina shook her head.
“We're going to hell,” she said. “You know that.”
“Eh, Dominic was no bueno,” he retorted. “I think St. Peter will understand. Any word from Charlie yet?”
“Yes. I'm a go.” Alina pulled her legs up on the couch and leaned back. “He sent me a message about ten minutes ago.”
“I'll come back.”
“No, I need you there,” she told him. “Michael was just here. The antidote was distributed to four metro areas, and DC is one of them.”
Hawk was silent for a moment.
“Where are the other three?”
“Philly, New York and Boston.”
“Have you told Charlie?”
“I haven't had chance. Michael literally just left,” Alina said. “Stephanie should have eyes on the drivers tomorrow morning. I'll send you makes, models and plates as soon as I have them.”
“I'll go see Charlie and fill him in for you,” Hawk offered. His voice was calm and Alina could feel some of the tension leaving her shoulders as it rolled over her. “You concentrate on Asad.”
“There's something else,” Alina told him, closing her eyes and massaging the bridge of her nose. “Michael met Dominic a few months ago. He can't remember who introduced them, but he met him at a fund-raiser in Washington.”
“You didn't tell him about the boss in Washington, did you?”
“No, but he knows that Dominic had connections to Washington now,” she answered. “More importantly, whether he remembers or not, he knows who Dominic associated with down there.”
“Does anyone else know he met Dominic?”
“Only Blake and Stephanie.”
“Then he's safe for now, but if he mentions it to anyone else, that won't last,” Damon said grimly. “Once we blow the lid on all this, our Mystery Man in Washington, whoever he is, won't want anyone to know he had dealings with Dominic. He'll do whatever it takes to cover it up.”
“I know.” Alina's hand dropped away from her face. “Trust me. I already thought of that. I almost wish he'd never remembered he met him.”
Hawk was quiet for a moment.
“There's something you're not telling me,” he finally said. “What is it?”
Her lips curved reluctantly.
“I really hate how you do that,” she murmured. “How the hell do you know that?”
“You're not the only one with skills. Spit it out.”
“Earlier this morning, before I knew he'd met Dominic, I asked him to do something for me,” she told him. “In retrospect, that probably wasn't the best idea now.”
“What did you ask him to do?” Hawk asked apprehensively.
“Some background work...on someone in DC.”
A long silence met that and Alina's lips twisted. She could almost picture Damon shaking his head in disbelief.
“Are you out of your mind?” he finally asked.
“In my defense, this was also before I got confirmation that we had a player in Washington,” she said. “I was playing a hunch I had from Dave's letters.”
“Oh, that makes it a thousand times worse!” Damon exclaimed. “You have the gunny digging up dirt from twelve years ago? The same dirt that just got John killed?”
“He's well aware of the risk involved,” Viper told him. “I made it very clear.”
“And he's doing it anyway?” There was a grudging note of respect in Hawk's voice. “Typical Marine.”
Alina nodded to herself.
“I could pull the request, but honestly, he's the best one to do it,” she said slowly. “That man will find anything. He's got a nose for it.”
“And no one will look twice at a Secret Service Agent doing background work,” Damon agreed. “That's their job.”
“Exactly.”
“What a mess,” he muttered. “I'll see if Charlie can do something about hiding Dominic's involvement in this whole incident. If the spook in Washington doesn't feel threatened, Michael's chance encounter with Dominic might not become a problem.”
“That's true,” Alina agreed.
“I'll go track down Charlie now,” he said. “Let him know where we're at. Viper?”
“Yes?”
“For God's sake, don't get yourself shot again.”
The man peeled off the latex gloves and dropped them in the sink, frowning at the sight of blood on his wrist. He turned on the faucet and held his hands under the water, reaching for the anti-bacterial soap foam his housekeeper insisted on stocking in the bathrooms. Whatever happened to good, old-fashioned bars of soap?
He pumped some foam into his palm and began scrubbing his hands and forearms. He wasn't sure he trusted this foam stuff. It didn't feel like soap, somehow. It was full of air and moisturizers and other silly things that had nothing to do with sanitizing.
The water turned pink in the sink as he scrubbed, washing the blood off the gloves as it ran over them. He hadn't planned on making such a mess, but he also hadn't expected to come upon his target so suddenly. He had a very small window of opportunity, and he had to make it count.
The man turned off the faucet and reached for a towel to dry his hands and arms. It couldn't be helped, and at least it was done. The world had one less piece of trash to worry about.
He turned away from the sink and went out of the bathroom, walking down the hallway and crossing the living room tiredly. When did things get so complicated, he wondered, reaching for a decanter filled with whiskey. It really wasn't supposed to be going the way it was. This hadn't been the plan at all.
The man had just finished pouring himself a well-deserved drink when his phone began ringing. With a sigh, he reached into his pocket.
“Hello?” he answered, holding the phone with one hand and picking up his drink with the other.
“And?”
“Delta is in Brooklyn, sir. His father is resting at home and his mother is heating up cabbage rolls.”
The man chuckled and glanced at the clock.
“At quarter to one in the morning? You have to admire the Irish.”
“Yes, sir,” the voice agreed with a laugh. “Delta said he's pouring himself a drink,” he added. “Sounds like a good old family gathering.”
“I won't deny a hot plate of cabbage rolls sounds just fine right now,” the man said almost longingly. “My mother used to make 'em. Damn good. Ever have them?”
“No, sir. I don't care for cabbage much.”
“Neither do I,” the man admitted, “but those I'll eat. Thanks for the update. At least we know he's staying put for now.”
The man hung up and went over to sink into his recliner, leaning back and elevating his feet with a sigh of relief. It was good to sit down and relax. He sipped his drink appreciatively and leaned his head back. By this time tomorrow, it would all be over. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. How would it all end? A lot had gone wrong already, and nothing was going according to plan. He believed he'd adjusted accordingly, but only time would tell. This was always the most nerve-wracking part of any operation, waiting to see how things would shake out. He'd never liked this part, but it was worse tonight. He sighed and lifted his glass to his lips again.
He'd be glad when it was all over.
Chapter Fifty-One
“You've got to be kidding me.”
Blake's drawl was deep in Stephanie's ear and she grinned, reaching for her thermos in the cup holder. She sat at the red light and watched as the '67 Camaro with flames pulled into the entrance of the parking garage, disappearing from sight.
“One of us has to go in there,” she pointed out, glancing in her rearview mirror to the black Challenger behind her. She watched as Blake shook his head.
“They're out of their minds,” he muttered. “Do you have any idea how much security is in there?”