by Leigh Barker
She slowed down to merge with the traffic back on Twelfth Street, took the slipway and joined the freeway heading west. The evening traffic was thinner than she’d expected, and thirty minutes later she turned left into the Army Navy Country Club.
Ethan chuckled. “You’re right about them refusing me entry. I’ve been here before. That was the result.”
She swung the SUV around in front of the building, parked it and turned off the ignition and caught Ethan’s look. “What?”
“You couldn’t find a more conspicuous place to park?”
She looked around. “Lots of flowers here. I like flowers.”
“The parking storm troopers will be all over us in about ten seconds.”
“We won’t be here. There’s a sailor here who owes me.”
He was silent, which was as noisy as it could get.
“Don’t you think I can know a sailor?”
He almost said it, but caught it just in time. Arlington cemetery really wasn’t far away. He followed her into the club as security passed them to check out the illegally parked vehicle. It would probably be destroyed in a controlled explosion if the angry-looking ex-sergeant major had his way.
Ethan smiled at him. “Some folks have no consideration,” he said, pointing at the Ford.
The sergeant major grunted.
“This sailor,” Ethan said. “Does he have a fast boat to take us to Cuba?”
“No, of course not. But he has a car that the FBI won’t be looking for.”
She left him trying to blend in by admiring himself in a mirror, and crossed to the reception desk, and a moment later waved him over.
The sailor was in the 1924 bar and stood up and flashed a super-white grin as she approached. The sailor was a lieutenant commander, and way too young and good looking.
He gave Kelsey a long hug, too long in Ethan’s opinion. Then he turned to Ethan and nodded once, which was probably a greeting, or not.
“Ethan, I’d like you to meet Jason. We’re old friends.”
Yes, of course they were.
Ethan shook the male model’s hand and did something with his lips he hoped resembled a smile. It didn’t.
Jason waved Kelsey to a seat at his table and sat opposite. Ethan stood behind Kelsey’s chair with his hands on the backrest. Mine, hands off.
“There’s a problem,” Jason said.
“What makes you think there’s a problem? Can’t I just visit?”
“Yes, any time. I’m off the ship, I’m here, you know that. But this isn’t a visit, is it?”
She reached across the table and put her hand on his. “We need your help.”
“You’ve got it.”
“You haven’t heard what help we need,” Ethan said.
Jason glanced up at him. “Doesn’t matter. Whatever Tate wants, she’s got it.”
“Tate?” Ethan said.
Kelsey tipped her head back and looked up at him. “It’s just a nickname.” That wasn’t enough, clearly. “My name’s Lyle…”
Well, yeah.
“Tate and Lyle?”
He closed his eyes. How old were these two?
“The FBI’s looking for us,” she said, and got the look of surprise a statement like that deserved. “It’s a long story, but it’s all a misunderstanding.”
Jason laughed, and of course it was a cool laugh. Ethan liked this smooth guy less and less.
“And you want me to run interference with a Tommy gun?”
Now Kelsey laughed.
Please. Get a room.
“Nothing so… Bonnie and Clyde,” Kelsey said, squeezing his hand. “We need somewhere to stay in the city. Just for a short while until we sort out our—”
“Misunderstanding?”
“Exactly.”
Jason reached into his uniform pocket and took out a key ring. “This is to the apartment.” He pointed at the ring. “And this is to my car parked out back.”
“I can’t take your car,” Kelsey said.
“You don’t have to,” Ethan said, reaching down and picking up the key ring. “I will.”
She half turned in her chair and looked up at him. “You can’t do that.”
“What’s your car?”
“Porsche. Racing green.”
Of course it was.
“You’ll take care of Kelsey?”
“With my life.”
“It probably won’t come to that,” Ethan said, and leaned a little closer to her. “It’s me they’re after. You’ll be okay.”
She started to get up. “I’m not just going to let you walk out of here and face the whole FBI on your own.”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m going after Dryer and his pet terrorist, but I’ll need support, the sort of support only NCIS and your geek can give me.”
She sat back down.
“Jason,” Ethan said, and put out his hand, “I owe you.”
Jason shook his hand. “No, you don’t. Any friend of Tate’s.”
Ethan nodded once, went back out through reception and down the steps.
A black Suburban skidded around the flowerbed and Mancini jumped out almost before it stopped.
With the only other option to shoot a federal agent, Ethan stayed very, very still.
“The cavalry are right behind me,” Mancini said, and opened the passenger door. “They’re not looking to take prisoners. We’ve got to go. Get in.”
The Hellfire
Ethan pulled out his cell and hit a key. “Kelsey, get out now. No questions. Go. Take pretty boy with you. Go back to the Navy Yard on the double.” He listened. “Yes, I will, later.”
He put his cell away and fastened his seat belt, ready for the high-speed exit, but he could’ve saved his health and safety efforts, because Mancini drove out of the Army Navy Club as if he had his aged mother sitting beside him.
“You said we were in a hurry,” Ethan said, and looked along Eighteenth Street, expecting to see a rerun of the OJ Simpson chase, but the road was clear. He shifted in his seat to face Mancini, who glanced at him then resumed his hearse-driving demonstration.
“They’re coming down Memorial Drive,” he said.
“I wondered why you chose the built-up route for our getaway. If that’s what you call this.”
“I call this keeping a low profile.”
“We’re gonna be pulled over for driving too slow. Tell you what,” Ethan said, “you get out and run around to my side and I’ll scoot over and drive. No need to slow down.”
“Okay, I get it,” Mancini said, and put his foot down. A little.
“Thirty miles an hour is an improvement,” Ethan said, and settled back into the Suburban’s big seat. “I don’t get it.”
“What don’t you get?”
“Why you’ve stuck your neck out to save my ass, you could’ve just left me to Dryer’s hit squad.”
Mancini stared at him. “What the hell has Dryer got to do with this?”
“Everything,” Ethan said, puzzled by Mancini’s question. “He’s behind the whole thing. Didn’t Teddy brief you on what we suspect?”
“Teddy brief me?” Mancini shook his head as if to clear it. “About what?”
Ethan nodded. “The plan was, tie me to a tree to lure out the predator. Looks like some wires got crossed.”
Mancini turned left onto South Glebe Road, drove in silence for a few minutes, then took a left into a cul-de-sac and pulled over.
Ethan looked around. “Visiting somebody?”
“You need to know something,” Mancini said, and took a breath to give him time to arrange his thoughts. “I don’t know what you think you’ve worked out, but Dryer’s not your man.”
Ethan remained silent. Mancini would do this without prompting.
“I’ve known him for five years, and yeah, he’s a bit of an asshole sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Okay, most of the time, but he’s the best damned agent I ever worked with.” He leaned over the c
entral console to emphasize his words. “And he’s as straight as any man can be. I’d stake my life on it. Have done.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Ethan watched Mancini for any reaction as he spoke. “I know about the black ops budget. I know about setting Christian Carter up to kill politicians, and I know about the leaks to the terrorist and to the Taliban.”
Mancini leaned back against the driver’s door as if somebody had slapped him.
“Looks like you didn’t,” Ethan said.
“You’re a cop, like me. Different uniform, but just a cop.”
Ethan shrugged.
“And as a cop you gather evidence and information, analyze it, categorize it, kick it around and question it. Until you’ve built up a picture of the events that points to a suspect based on means, motive and opportunity.”
“Detective one-o-one,” Ethan said, and waited for him to get to his point, because a point was coming, and it was going to be a doozey.
“The means we know, so we can park that,” Mancini said.
Ethan nodded.
“Motive? Okay, what motive would Dryer have for setting a terrorist loose on our military leaders?”
“I know about the competition for the additional security funds. And about the umbrella agency under which all the agencies will operate.”
Mancini blinked hard and stared at him. “There are always additional funds up for grabs. That’s the way the agencies operate, but there is no proposed umbrella agency. It wouldn’t work, the internal politics would tear it to pieces before it even got off the ground. Nobody would dare. Where in God’s name did you hear that?”
And there it was.
Ethan asked another question, which was a kind of answer. “Where’s Teddy?”
“No idea. Why?”
“Because it’s not supposed to be the feds beating the bushes for me—” He took a long slow breath and tried not to believe what was screaming in his head.
“Then who the hell is it supposed to be?”
“Faraj.”
“Faraj is dead,” Mancini said, then closed his eyes. “You expected the real terrorist to come after you. When Dryer tipped him off that you were close to cracking the case?”
“Teddy was going to set Dryer up to do just that. Then we’d have him.”
Mancini was silent for a long time, just staring ahead at the dark houses with their neat lawns and mock-plantation doorways. Then he turned to face Ethan.
“Teddy sent the agents. The kill squad.”
Ethan should’ve been surprised, but he’d got there while he was waiting for Mancini. “He tell you I’m a gun for SecNav?”
“Among other things.”
“I set Carter loose on the politicians as a misdirect?”
Mancini nodded.
“I’m getting old,” Ethan said, with a long sigh.
“It comes to us all,” Mancini said. Then smiled. “At least you’re not dead.”
“Thanks to you. What about that?”
“There is no way you’re behind this. SecNav killing people for politics? The man is a decorated Navy SEAL not some Mafia wiseguy.”
“All of that,” Ethan said. “But you’re way out there coming to warn me.”
“You could’ve let me get my head shot off on that roof, but you didn’t. And you foiled the bomb attack on Creech single-handed.”
“Single-handed with Special Agent Lyle’s help,” Ethan added with a smile.
“You wouldn’t have done that, or half of what you’ve done, if it was smoke. Somebody is playing us.”
“And we know who that somebody is.”
“We do.” Mancini turned in his seat and put the Suburban in drive.
Ethan put his hand on his arm. “Wait up.” He was about to say something, then changed his mind. “Teddy know you came to warn me?”
Mancini nodded. “He will. He’s good.”
“Then I guess you’re a wanted man too.”
“That would be my guess.” Mancini put it into park. “I don’t get it. Teddy a traitor? What for, money? He’d never betray his country for money.”
“No, he wouldn’t betray his country at all,” Ethan said, and saw Mancini’s puzzled look. “He hasn’t betrayed his country, he’s taking revenge on the men he sees as responsible for his son’s death.” He clenched his jaw for a moment while the anger passed. “That’s twice.”
“Twice what?”
“Twice I’ve looked away from a fact because of a personal connection. Dryer first. And I was wrong on that, but I still should’ve run it down. And now Teddy. Just because he’s my friend.”
“And because you feel responsible for his boy’s death.”
“You know about that?”
“I read your file, remember?”
“I was responsible. I put him in harm’s way,” Ethan said.
“Way I read it, he was killed by a missile attack, one of ours.”
“Hellfire.” Ethan shook his head. “How did I miss that? Jesus.” He clenched his fist. “Teddy’s only son was killed by a Hellfire missile.”
“We all missed it,” Mancini said. “Now Teddy’s working his way through the chain of command.”
“Eli died saving us,” Ethan said quietly. “And now his father is killing his own people.”
“How?” Mancini said, then raised a hand. “How did he die saving you?”
“Wasn’t that in the file?”
“It was.”
“Then you know. He saw the Apache coming in fast and low and knew it meant business, so he took off in the Humvee we were using for transport.” He shrugged. “We’re alive because of that. He’s not.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Every man I lost was my fault. Something I did or didn’t do. They trusted me with their lives, and I let them down.”
“They were…are marines. Marines know the score. When Hell rolls up, they stand in its way. No hesitation.”
“Oorah,” Ethan said without enthusiasm.
“They stop putting their lives on the line, we all might as well learn the Koran.” He put it back in drive. “So where to?”
“I don’t suppose you could call in and tell the Secret Service I think Teddy is going to try to assassinate the President of the United States?”
“They’d just trace the call and send a helicopter gunship.” He was smiling. Which was weird.
“Wanted man, right?”
“Aiding an enemy of the state? Wanted is too small a word for it.”
“Teddy’s done a number on us.”
“He has that.”
“Then it’s just you and me,” Ethan said.
“Standing in the way of Hell.”
“You first,” Ethan said.
“How’s he going to do it?” Mancini checked his mirror, in a cul-de-sac. “How’s he going to kill the President.”
“Hellfires.”
“Right.” Mancini said it matter of fact, like he was hearing the Red Sox beat the Yankees again. “Somebody should warn the Secret Service.”
“Somebody should.”
“They won’t believe it.” He drove back onto South Glebe, but still kept the speed down to the legal limit. “You in contact with your terrorist sponsor, SecNav?”
“No, he’s out of town.”
Mancini was silent while they approached 395 and negotiated the interchange. When they were on the Shirley, he glanced quickly at Ethan as if thinking before speaking. “Bit of a coincidence.”
“What is?” Ethan said, snapping out of his thoughts.
“SecNav being out of town, right when it all comes out of the woodwork.”
“Don’t believe in coincidence.”
“Me neither.”
“Give me your phone,” Ethan said, and took Mancini’s cell, opened the window and threw it out, then his own.
Mancini nodded. “We need to ditch this car too. And find somewhere to stay while we define our strategy.”
“I have my strategy.”
“I’m going to find Teddy and put a nine-mil in him.”
“Let’s do the finding first; then we can toss a coin for handcuffs or a bullet.”
Ethan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out Jason’s keyring and held it up.
“What’s that?”
“Accommodation,” Ethan said. “And a Porsche. Racing green.”
“Cool.”
“I’m coming in,” Ethan said into the burner phone he’d picked up at the 7-Eleven.
“No,” Kelsey said, “you can’t. Right now you’re public enemy number one.”
“I like to be the top of the list.”
“You’re wanted for the murder of Davy and Morgan… and Wakeman.”
He didn’t miss that she added Wakeman as an afterthought. She really didn’t like politicians. He’d have to ask her why, if he lived long enough. He couldn’t help thinking of Dillinger, he was public enemy number one, and look what happened to him.
“Director Chandler will vouch for me. Get him to call off the FBI.”
Kelsey was silent for a while, and that spoke volumes.
“He thinks I did it, doesn’t he?”
“No, he knows you didn’t.”
“Then what’s stopping him making the call?”
Silence again.
“Right,” Ethan said, “he doesn’t want to get in front of this one in case it goes nuclear.”
“Politics.”
“Correct.” She was silent again and he could here her moving to someplace else. “Mention Chandler again if Mancini is with you.”
“Kelsey, when you see Chandler, tell him to go—”
“Okay, I got that. Listen.”
Ethan gave Mancini a knowing look and drifted away from the window of Jason’s apartment, the one with the panoramic views.
“Hey, I never said I’d meet your mother,” he said, a little loudly.
“The BOLO says you kidnapped Agent Mancini and you’re armed and dangerous.”
“Copy the last part.” He looked back at Mancini watching him and raised his eyebrows. “No, I don’t want to meet your brother either. And hey, I’m safe. A friend saved my ass before the guns arrived.”
“That’s what I thought,” Kelsey said. “Watch your six. Somebody doesn’t want you talking, even if it’s on your deathbed.”
“Never gonna happen. And sweet-cheeks, say hi to your gran for me.” He hung up before she could respond.
