Velocity

Guevara’s home without a warrant. Now she was expecting Brix to join her in leaping off the career-ending legal precipice with her.

“Once we cross this line,” he said, “there’s no going back.”

Dixon took a quick glance in Brix’s direction. Their eyes locked. A silent answer.

They pulled onto the street where Superior Mobile Bottling was located. “It’s 7:00 AM,” Brix said. “I doubt he’s here.”

“He gets to his office every morning at 7:15,” Dixon said, pulling into the adjacent parking lot. She slid the car into a slot behind the building, hidden from the street. “Up ahead, by that brick wall,” she said, pointing. “We’ll have a view of the front entrance and the side driveway. We’ll be able to see him when he arrives, but he won’t see us.”

Brix nodded and then followed Dixon on foot to their perch. The air was crisp and the sky was brightening to their left, in the east.

The time ticked by without activity. Finally, at 7:40 AM, Dixon sat down on the ground, her back against the brick wall.

“What do you think?” Brix asked.

“I don’t know. My source only knew what time he came in each day. I don’t know how prompt he usually is.” Dixon pulled her phone, called Austin Mann. “Anything?”

“House is dark. By now I’d think someone’d be awake and moving around. I’ve got the front, Gordon’s got the back, and I’ve got two other guys from NSIB placed at various other points of interest. Nobody’s seen anything.”

“Guevara’s usually at his office by 7:15,” Dixon said. “It’s possible he’s out of town. If he is, that’d be very convenient timing.”

“You want us to go up and knock?” Mann asked.

Dixon thought about that. “No, let’s give it a little longer. Maybe he’s running late. I’d rather take him at his office. There isn’t a whole lot around here. But in a residential neighborhood . . . lots of potential eyes and ears.”

“Okay,” Mann said. “We sit and wait.”

48

Vail followed DeSantos to his car, a low-slung black Corvette.

“You’re kidding me,” Vail said.

“What?”

“You want me to drive around in that?” She wiggled a finger at the highly polished sports car. “I have claustrophobia. Let’s take my Ford.”

DeSantos unlocked the Vette. “I don’t ride in Fords. Get in, you’ll be fine.”

And a moment later, they were speeding out of the lot, en route to I-95.

Vail looked around. She was sitting lower than she had ever sat in a car. But so far, there was no crushing anxiety. Her psyche was probably so overworked with stress from Robby’s situation that it had nothing left to give. Take your mind off it and you’ll be fine.

A spark of sunlight glinted off the highly polished chrome of DeSantos’s stylish watch band. “Is that a bicycle chain you’re wearing?” She nodded at the timepiece on his wrist. “Your watch.”

“It’s a Demos. Same one the president wears.”

Vail twisted her lips. “And you would know that, how?”

DeSantos frowned. “You’ll soon learn not to ask me questions like that.” He gunned the accelerator and they rocketed across three lanes of traffic to the far left of the interstate.

Vail felt her stomach vault into the backseat and she reached out for something—anything—to grab onto. Perhaps she got too comfortable in this vehicle too soon. She licked her lips, trying to restore moisture to her suddenly dry mouth. “This guy you’ve hooked us up with. Who is he? I don’t like going into any situation blindly, let alone a meet with a CI.”

“He’s not a CI,” DeSantos said. “He works for DEA. Let’s just say he has access to files and information. That’s how I got what I got that led me to Gifford.”

“And I’m not supposed to know any of this.”

“If you did know it, he’d have to kill you.”

At the moment, Vail did not find that funny. And despite both Gifford’s and DeSantos’s admonitions, she did feel responsible for blowing Robby’s cover. Dammit, if he had just trusted me, if he had just confided in me and told me he had a mission and that he’d be gone awhile. What would the harm have been? P

“You went quiet on me,” DeSantos said. “Where were you just now?” Vail turned toward her window. “Nowhere.”

“Bullshit. You were thinking about Robby. You feel guilty.”

Vail did not respond.

“For all we know,” DeSantos said, “he’s fine and lying low until it’s safe to resurface. He could’ve talked his way out of it.”

“Anything’s possible,” Vail said. “Either way, I’m going to find him. And if something’s happened to him, I’m going to find whoever’s responsible. I can be a real bitch when I’m crossed.”

“You understand he had to leave without you knowing. He couldn’t tell you.”

“No, I don’t understand any of that. What I understand is that he lied to me. I kissed him good-bye in the morning and he told me he’d see me later that evening. But he had no intention of seeing me, did he?”

DeSantos zipped past a car that was doing ten over the speed limit. She glanced at the speedometer. They were going 95 miles per hour.

“We don’t know what happened. Maybe he expected to have dinner with you. But something might’ve broken on the case, and he had to leave. Don’t judge him until you know the facts.”

“Bottom line. He was doing this and chose not to tell me. Omission of facts is the same as lying, Hector. He deceived me. How can I trust him the same way ever again? Trust is one of the most important things in a relationship.”

“I’m married, Karen. I understand where you’re coming from. But until you give Robby a chance to explain, you’re not being fair. You’re taking this personally, not looking at it as a federal agent who has an in-depth knowledge of deep cover work.”

“You don’t know what I’ve been through. A failed marriage. A spouse who went from loving husband to abusive drunk who refused to take his medication. I needed someone I could trust, someone I could lose myself in and not worry about whether or not he was lying to me.” She shook her head. “As far as I’m concerned, there are no excuses. When we find him, Hector, I’m going to kill him.”

THEY ARRIVED AT THEIR MEET with the contact, whom DeSantos called “Sammy.” It wasn’t his real name, but it was safer this way for all involved.

DeSantos pulled his Corvette up to the curb in front of Professors Gate at The George Washington University on 21st Street NW. He shoved the shift into park and popped open his door.

“I don’t think we can leave it here,” Vail said.

“Not a problem. If they start to write up a ticket, they’ll run my plate and everything’ll be fine.”

Vail looked at him. “You’re not really serious.”

DeSantos slipped on his wraparound sunglasses. “Really, I am.” He dropped the keys into his suit pocket. “You worry too much, Karen.”

He walked through the decorative wrought iron arch, which was supported by two squat concrete tile columns. “GW” was prominently lettered in gold on black above the apex of the curve.

“Why here?” Vail asked as she followed him along the red brick pathway.

“Why not? It’s my alma mater. I donate every year when they call me, so I may as well get some use out of my donation.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s the point.”