Next Exit, Dead Ahead

by CW Browning

  “Knock yourself out.” Stephanie waved her hand and started in the direction of the workers still huddled in a group, watching the proceedings avidly. “John might be able to help you out as well. He grew up not far from here.”

  Blake nodded and turned toward where John was talking to two of the uniformed officers near the barricade into the parking lot. He glanced at the road as a black Jeep drove by the parking lot entrance. The driver was cast in shadows, but the Jeep slowed slightly as it passed. He sighed and glanced back toward the pier. The activity at the marina was clearly visible from the road and Blake shook his head slightly. It wouldn't be long before the press and local residents were gathering near the parking lot. Hopefully, he would be long gone before the circus arrived.

  Chris Harbour stepped out into the sunlight and took a deep breath. The air was crisp and the scent of fall blew through the streets of Washington DC, sweeping away the last remnants of a hot and humid summer. Glancing up at the cloudless blue sky, Chris smiled to himself. It was the perfect weather for football. The best time of year was upon them. The air was cool. The leaves were changing, and all was right with the world. He stepped out from under the shadow of the tall building he worked in every day and turned to walk down the busy city street. People were leaving work, hurrying to get home or to Happy Hour, and Chris joined the throng, briefcase in hand.

  Glancing at his watch, he sighed. He was leaving later than he wanted, thanks to Michael O'Reilly and his sudden interest in Lowell Kwan. Chris pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial. He would have to warn his wife he was going to be a few minutes late for their son's football game. She got nervous when he wasn't on time to family events. He supposed he couldn't blame her. The last time he had been late, he was in the hospital with a bullet in his chest. That was over twenty years ago now, but she wouldn't let him forget it. Karina had a memory like an elephant, bless her, and Chris knew she would be checking her watch soon. He waited while the phone rang, coming to a stop with a group of people at a corner, waiting for the light to change. After a few rings, it went to her voicemail.

  “Hi, it's me. I'm on my way,” Chris spoke into the phone after the tone. “I got out of work later than expected, but I should be there soon.”

  He disconnected and tucked the phone back into his pocket as the light changed and the crowd moved forward. He was just stepping onto the curb on the other side of the road when someone grasped his elbow lightly.

  “Good afternoon, Chris!”

  Chris turned his head swiftly and encountered an assessing look from dark brown eyes. He frowned slightly. The man looked familiar. He was dressed in a tailored charcoal suit and his salt and pepper hair fell neatly across his forehead. His chin was square, his shoulders broad, and the man exuded enough power to light up the city. Chris knew he had seen him before, but for the life of him, he couldn't place a name to the face. That, in itself, was unusual enough to give him pause. Chris was famous for remembering every name and face of everyone he had ever met.

  “I'm sorry, do I know you?” he asked.

  The man smiled faintly and Chris realized he was being gently guided out of the flow of human traffic and into a small corner bar.

  “You do, but you may not realize it,” the man murmured as they stepped out of the late afternoon sunlight and into the dark interior of a swanky martini bar. “We've passed each other on the Hill many times.”

  Chris frowned and glanced at his watch.

  “Look, I'm running late as it is...”

  “Don't worry. Matt's game is being delayed due to some referee trouble,” the man informed him. “You'll be there in plenty of time for kick-off.”

  Chris looked at him, startled.

  “How do you know...”

  “I know everything, Chris,” the man replied. He held out his hand. “I don't believe we've ever been formerly introduced. You can call me Charlie.”

  Chris grasped his hand automatically, his mind scrambling for an elusive memory. Charlie...the name was familiar...but how?

  “I'm sorry,” Chris said apologetically. “It's very embarrassing. I'm usually quite good with names.”

  “I know you are,” Charlie assured him. “I won't take it personally. Only a handful of people in Washington know me, though almost everyone in government sees me on a regular basis. Come. There's a table in the corner where we can talk comfortably.”

  Bemused, Chris followed Charlie to a secluded pub table in the back corner, partially hidden by a huge, potted fan palm. Once they were seated, a waitress materialized with two glasses of water with lemon slices. She set them down before them and disappeared again with a smile.

  “I believe you spoke with one of my colleagues earlier,” Charlie said once she had gone. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and picked up the glass of water, sipping it while he studied Chris over the rim.

  “Of course!” Chris breathed as the light bulb turned on. “You're...”

  “Yes.” Charlie cut him off before he could get out the initials. “I was quite impressed with your handling of the situation in August involving one of your agents. Many others would have allowed Art Cosgrove to run their investigation for them. You showed considerable backbone in allowing your agent to follow his nose instead of bowing to Art. Congratulations on your promotion, by the way.”

  “Thank you.” Chris smiled and shook his head. “So, I have you to thank for that, do I?”

  “I merely made an observation to someone who listened,” Charlie replied. “I believe you did the rest.”

  Chris chuckled and glanced up as two pints of beer were set before them. He didn't have to taste it to know that it was his preferred micro-brew. Shaking his head, he looked across the table at his companion, partially hidden in the shadows.

  “Is there anything you don't know?” he asked, picking up the glass.

  Charlie's white teeth flashed in the shadows.

  “No.”

  Chris sipped the beer appreciatively and set the pint down on the table.

  “So, Michael strayed into something serious, did he?” Chris asked, his voice low.

  “Let's just say I would rather he left this particular situation alone,” Charlie answered softly, picking up his pint glass and tasting the beer. “Hmm. Not bad.”

  “I'm glad you approve,” Chris replied with a quick grin. “Are you a beer drinker?”

  “When the occasion calls for it,” Charlie answered cryptically.

  “I tried to get Michael to drop it after your colleague called me.” Chris returned to the main topic and reached for his glass. “He's like a dog with a bone when he gets his mind set on something, though. He's not likely to let it go until he finds what he's looking for.”

  “And what's he looking for?”

  “God alone knows,” Chris answered. “I certainly don't.”

  “It was my understanding he was on vacation,” Charlie said, glancing at him with those sharp eyes.

  “He is.” Chris set down his glass and studied Charlie across the table. “Apparently, a friend of a friend got herself mixed up in something. Michael seems to think she may be in danger.”

  “Of course.” Charlie seemed amused again. “Marines are so predictable sometimes, always wanting to protect and serve. Would you say Michael was prone to over-reaction?”

  “Absolutely not. In fact, I'd lean toward the opposite. He tends to be cautious about jumping to conclusions,” Chris said slowly. “That being said, once he decides something is not as it should be, it would take a nuclear bomb to stop him.”

  “Quite.” Charlie sipped his beer again and considered Chris thoughtfully.

  Chris stared back at the man in the shadows, uncomfortably aware that Charlie was seeing and hearing much more than Chris was saying. What on earth had Michael gotten himself into this time?

  “This 'friend of a friend' he thinks is in danger,” Charlie finally spoke softly, “is in New Jersey?”

  “He didn't say,” Chris replied.

 
Another long silence followed this and Chris finished his beer while he waited for Charlie to speak again. When he finally did, his voice was soft and Chris had to lean forward to hear.

  “I can't stop Michael from trying to protect this person, but I must insist he doesn't touch Lowell Kwan. I need you to make sure he understands this, and complies. The situation is complicated. If he does something to upset the tenuous balance that exists there, I cannot vouch for his safety, or the safety of this 'friend of a friend.'”

  Chris studied Charlie thoughtfully for a long moment.

  “You're really concerned for Michael, aren't you?” he asked, unable to conceal his surprise.

  Charlie met his gaze with a faint smile.

  “We're not all heartless ogres,” he murmured. “Some of us even have some semblance of a soul left.”

  Chris chuckled and nodded.

  “Understood,” he said. “I'll do what I can.”

  “If you value your agent, you'll do whatever you have to,” Charlie told him, his soft voice threaded with steel. In an instant, the steel was gone and Charlie was smiling faintly again. He stood up and re-buttoned his jacket. “Next time he takes a vacation, tell him to consider a cruise. They tend to be safer than New Jersey these days.”

  The sun was beginning to set as Stephanie and John watched Larry slam the doors on the van closed, locking Lorenzo Porras's remains inside. His assistant was already in the passenger's seat, clipboard in hand, making notes and Larry gave them a final wave as he disappeared around the side of the van. A moment later, the engine started up.

  “I'm starving,” John announced, watching as the van backed out of its spot. “What do you think of a dinner break?”

  “I think it sounds like heaven,” Stephanie agreed.

  John nodded and glanced at the small crowd gathered outside the police line at the parking lot entrance. They were moving the barricades to allow the ME van to pass and he raised an eyebrow as he glimpsed a familiar face.

  “You've got company,” he told Stephanie.

  She frowned at him.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, she's not here to see me,” John replied, nodding toward the road.

  Stephanie followed his gaze. Alina was leaning against her black Jeep across the road, her arms folded across her chest. Stephanie glanced at her watch.

  “I wonder what she wants,” she said. “Where do you want to have dinner?”

  “I'm thinking somewhere with beer and burgers,” John answered with a grin. “There's that new place down on 38. They have micro-brews and gourmet burgers.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Stephanie agreed with a laugh. “Let me see what's going on and I'll meet you there.”

  John nodded and turned toward his car. He paused and glanced across the road at the motionless figure.

  “How the hell did she know where we were?” he wondered.

  Stephanie couldn't stop her reluctant grin.

  “I don't think we really want to know,” she retorted.

  “Probably not,” John admitted, beeping his car unlocked. “Keep it short. I'll give you ten minutes, then I'm ordering for you.”

  “Make it fifteen,” Stephanie shot back and started across the lot.

  She nodded to the police officer as she passed through the barricade, ignoring the blatantly curious looks from the local residents. Glancing up, she saw Alina watching her with an unreadable expression on her face.

  “What are you doing here?” Stephanie asked, crossing the road to join her.

  Alina straightened up and uncrossed her arms.

  “I have some information you might find useful,” she answered calmly.

  Stephanie raised her eyebrows.

  “That should surprise me, but it doesn't,” she murmured. “What do you know?”

  “I stopped by Kwan's work this morning and found his car,” Alina told her. “It now has a tracking device on it.”

  “I shouldn't be hearing this,” Stephanie said, grinning despite herself. “Where is he now?”

  “Back at work. He's been there now for a few hours.” Alina glanced at her watch. “What I thought you'd find interesting is where he was earlier.”

  “Amaze me,” Stephanie invited her.

  “He was at your missing Philip Chou's apartment,” Alina said softly.

  Stephanie gasped.

  “How do you know about Philip?” she demanded.

  Alina smiled slightly.

  “His name popped up when I was running Lowell's,” she said shortly. “Then, I saw your BOLO. Lowell was at his apartment before your people got there. In fact, he was still outside when your agents showed up.”

  “What?!” Stephanie exclaimed. “Then he knows Philip's missing!”

  Alina nodded.

  “He left and went straight back to work,” she said. “I'm monitoring him closely to make sure I have a heads-up if he starts heading towards the house.”

  “Is Michael still there with Angela?”

  “Yes. He's keeping her in the house for now. So far, everything has been quiet there.” Alina stretched with a yawn. “There's one other thing.”

  “What's that?”

  “I have Jessica Nuñez,” Alina told her.

  Stephanie's jaw dropped.

  “What?!” she exclaimed.

  “You heard me.” Alina reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a flash drive. “Here. This is her testimony.”

  “What do you mean, you have her?” Stephanie demanded, reaching out and taking the flash drive automatically. “We've been looking for her since yesterday morning!”

  “I know,” Alina said, amused. “You've got quite a few BOLOs out. Are you losing all your witnesses?”

  “For the love of God, don't you start too,” Stephanie snapped. “How do you know about them, anyway? You know what, never mind. I don't want to know. What I do want to know is what you're doing with Jessica!”

  “She seemed to be in need of assistance,” Alina murmured dryly.

  “Oh God!” Stephanie stared at her. “The Camaro. It was you!”

  “Everything you need for your investigation is on that drive,” Alina said, ignoring the accusation. “Jessica is safe for now. You can have access to her once I decide Jenaro Gomez is no longer a threat. In the meantime, that should help you out.”

  “What do you know about Jenaro Gomez?” Stephanie asked sharply.

  “A lot more than I want to,” Alina answered obscurely and turned toward the door of the Jeep.

  “Clearly.” Stephanie reached out and grabbed her arm. “You knew about the Cartel before we did. How?”

  Viper looked at the hand on her arm, then raised her eyes slowly to Stephanie's face. Stephanie released her quickly at the look in those dark eyes.

  “Go get something to eat, Stephanie,” Alina told her, opening the door to her Jeep. “You look like you need it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Michael yawned as the email alert on his laptop dinged. He glanced at his watch and frowned when he saw that it was already after six. Sitting up in the recliner, he looked into the dining room where Angela was still at the table with her laptop and blackberry. They had both been silent all day, each working on their laptops and not bothering one another. Michael was actually somewhat surprised. He had almost forgotten she was there.

  “Are you hungry?” Angela asked now as she stretched and glanced at him.

  “Nope.”

  “Thirsty?”

  “Nope.”

  “Ok then.”

  Angela made a face at him as he turned his attention back to his laptop and got up to go into the kitchen. She glanced at the clock, surprised to see that it was already past six. She had been on conference call after conference call all day and was starting to feel cross-eyed from staring at the laptop screen for hours. Opening the refrigerator, she pulled out a can of Diet Pepsi and popped it open, running her eye over the contents of Alina's fridge with a grimace.
r />   “Want to order pizza for dinner?” she called out to Michael.

  “Hmmm.”

  Angela rolled her eyes and let the refrigerator door swing closed. She had no idea if the noise he made was a yes or a no. Looking across the bar and into the living room, she watched as he typed, his attention focused on the screen.

  “I thought you were on vacation,” she said, moving out of the kitchen and wandering into the living room. Annabelle was curled up in the corner of the couch and Angela reached a hand down to rub the top of her sleeping cat's head. Annabelle started briefly, then settled back down, purring as her eyes slid closed again.

  “I am,” Michael replied, still typing.

  “Then why have you been working all day?” Angela asked.

  Michael glanced at her.

  “I'm trying to find out everything I can about this Lowell Kwan character,” he said. “I like to know what I'm up against.”

  “Do you really think he's going to try to kill me?” Angela asked, straightening up and sipping her soda.

  “I think you're in a bad situation,” Michael answered evasively.

  “That's a yes,” she murmured.

  Michael smiled reluctantly.

  “It's an 'I don't know,'” he told her. “Better to be safe than sorry.”

  “I'm starving,” Angela said, changing the subject and turning back toward the kitchen. “You're really not hungry?”

  “No.”

  “I think I'll order pizza,” Angela decided after another look in the refrigerator. “All she has in here is healthy stuff that needs cooking.”

  “Ordering pizza isn't a good idea,” Michael muttered. “Make yourself a sandwich.”

  “I don't want a sandwich,” Angela retorted. “I want pizza.”

  “Well, you're not ordering it,” Michael informed her bluntly.

  Angela's eyes narrowed and she glared at him from the kitchen,

  “Why not?”

  “It's not safe,” Michael said, ignoring the mutinous tone in her voice. “You're hiding, remember? We don't want Kwan to know where you are.”