“If you don’t cooperate do you think McGarvey will back off? He knows your company was involved in the deaths of his son-in-law and the
“And he killed Roland without hesitation because of it.”
“Only because your boss chose to take a bullet rather than cooperate,” Pete said.
Remington’s lips parted slightly at the same moment Pete became aware of the distant sounds of traffic as the front door opened. Sliding to the left and swiveling on one heel she was in time to see Sergeant Randall coming through the door, his gun hand rising. With no time to assume the proper two-handed grip and solid firing stance, she pulled off two snap shots, one smacking into the wall, but the other hitting the sergeant in center mass and he fell back, bouncing off the door frame and crumpling to the floor.
Before she could recover her balance Remington was on her, his superior weight bulling her to her knees. Instead of resisting, she went with his forward momentum, ducking down so that he came over the top of her back, and she grabbed the material of his jacket with her left hand and helped him the rest of the way over.
She scrambled away on her butt and heels, and got to her feet as Remington turned over and tried to reach Randall’s pistol. But he was too old, and too slow, and Pete was on him before he got two feet, and jammed her pistol in the back of his neck at the base of his skull.
“Now that the situation is stabilized and your sergeant is dead, give me one good reason not to pull the trigger,” she said. McGarvey and Otto were listening, and she’d just told them that she was okay.
“We want him alive,” McGarvey said.
“We have a safe house for you,” Pete said.
“What about afterward?” Remington asked, looking over his shoulder from where he was sprawled on the marble floor.
“If you mean your house in France and your secret bank accounts in Switzerland, Guernsey, and the Caymans, that will depend on how well you cooperate. We can take the house and drain your accounts easier than you think.”
“Flash drive,” Remington said.
“What about a flash drive?”
“The Friday Club. All of Admin’s records. Names, financial dealings. Everything. You can’t imagine.”
“Everything on the Friday Club?” Pete asked, for McGarvey’s benefit.
“Anyone else in the house?” McGarvey asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“Make sure you have the flash drive and then get him out of there, right now. His sergeant might have called for backup,” McGarvey said. “I cheated. I’m five minutes away.”
SIXTY
The Toyota SUV moved quickly in the night up the Rock Creek Parkway, and past the spot where Louise had dropped McGarvey off early that morning. Now, except for the streetlights, the park was mostly in darkness and all but deserted.
“Do you really think his sergeant called for help?” she asked.
“I think that it’s likely if they got suspicious,” McGarvey said.
Otto had fitted him with the same earpiece comms unit that Pete was using, except his had a lapel switch that in one position was a party line connecting him with Otto and Pete, while in the other only he and Otto could talk.
He flipped the switch that excluded Pete. “Were you able to intercept any calls to or from Admin’s offices?” he asked.
“Several since this afternoon, but just about everything in or out is heavily encrypted with some really good shit. My darlings are working on it, but it might take more time than we have.”
“No calls to Metro D.C. police?”
“Not to Remington’s address.”
McGarvey flipped the switch. “You don’t have to answer unless you’re in trouble. I want you to get out of there as fast as possible and head up to Massachusetts Avenue, take the first right, and then the next into Rock Creek Park. We’ll run interference from there. If that’s a roger, cough.”
Pete’s cough came out clearly.
“Have you got the flash drive yet? One cough yes.”
“Okay so it’s encrypted,” Pete said. “We’ll need the key.” She was talking to Remington.
“The key will save time, but Otto can crack it,” McGarvey told her.
“Which makes you our next best bet,” Pete said. “Now, nice and easy, we’re going out to my car and take a little drive. Do as I tell you, and you just might survive to make it to France.”
“Make sure the street is clear before you leave the house,” McGarvey told her.
They came around the last long sweeping curve before Massachusetts Avenue and Louise pulled over to the side of the road, and switched off the headlights. “Do you want me to turn the car around?”
“No, don’t turn the car around yet,” he told Louise, but for Pete’s benefit. “Not until we’re sure she’s clear and on her way.”
“Hold up,” Pete said.
McGarvey could visualize her at the front door, using Remington’s much larger bulk as her cover. She wasn’t a field officer, but she was a smart woman and well trained. She knew what she was doing, but McGarvey was anxious. If something were to go wrong, it would happen within the next sixty seconds.
“We’re clear,” Pete said into his earpiece.
McGarvey flipped the transmit switch back to Otto-only. “Anything from Admin, or D.C. Metro?”
“Nada,” Otto said.
“Son of a bitch,” Pete swore, and McGarvey flipped the transmit switch.
“Talk to me,” he said.
“Dark blue or black Ford, maybe a Taurus, coming on fast. Halfway to my car. No other cover.” She was out of breath.
It was Kangas and Mustapha, back for revenge. They wouldn’t give a damn about Pete. They wanted to take Remington down. “We’re on our way right now, Pete. Get down! Get down!”
Louise flipped on the lights and rocketed to the red light on Massachusetts. There was a break in traffic so she blew through it and accelerated across the bridge to Whitehaven a little more than a block away.
“Shit, I’m hit!” Pete shouted. “Remington’s down. Two guys with silenced automatic weapons just jumped out of the Taurus. I’m returning fire. Get here now, Mac!”
They had to wait for several precious seconds for traffic until Louise could turn onto Whitehaven.
“Kill your lights,” McGarvey told Louise. He had his pistol out.
As soon as the Toyota’s headlights were out, they could see muzzle flashes a hundred yards away.
“Pull over here,” he told her. He didn’t want her in the line of fire. She wasn’t a field officer.
“No time,” Louise said and she headed directly for the blue Taurus.
SIXTY-ONE
Hunched down behind her Mustang, Pete ejected the empty magazine from the handle of her pistol, slammed another in its place, and charged the weapon. Remington was down, and definitely dead. He had taken several rounds to his torso and at least two to his head.
His body lay a few feet back on the sidewalk.
But she had managed to get off fifteen rounds on the run over the top of her car, and nearly made it to cover when she’d been hit in the left hip. The initial shock had stung like hell and knocked her to her knees. But she was
