The man in the Cadillac SUV just put on a headset.
The man in the Cadillac had to be with Hopper but Dillon wouldn’t know if he was the one who had directed Russo’s execution until he heard the man’s voice.
All personnel, listen up.
It was Alice speaking.
The man in the SUV is opposition. His code name is Cadillac. Bravo, Charlie? Can you see Cadillac’s vehicle? It’s behind the hedge on 26th Street.
This is Bravo. Negative.
This is Charlie. Negative.
Even though the agents had night vision equipment, the hedge was apparently blocking their view of the Cadillac SUV. This wasn’t good. Alice had expected the opposition to use the woods on the south side of the ball field for cover and not the hedge across the street from the field, and she’d positioned Bravo and Charlie in the woods. Alice had guessed wrong.
One of Alice’s spotters said: Cadillac is exiting his vehicle. He’s removing something from the rear seat of his vehicle.
Alice immediately asked, What did he take from the vehicle? Cannot identify. Cadillac is on the ground. Cadillac is belly-crawling toward the hedge. Cadillac is taking up a position at the east end of the hedge.
The satellite image of Cadillac crawling was barely visible. It looked like a shadow slithering across the ground. Then suddenly the plasma screen showing the satellite image went completely black.
“What the hell’s going on?” Claire said.
“We’ve lost the satellite,” one of the techs said.
“Why? What happened?”
“I think it’s because…”
Claire didn’t need to hear geek babble. “Get it back! Now! We’re blind!”
Bravo, Charlie. Can you see Cadillac? He’s in a prone position at the east end of the hedge.
It was Alice speaking.
This is Bravo. I can see his head.
This is Charlie. I have him too.
Thank God for night-vision goggles, Dillon thought.
“The satellite’s down hard,” Claire’s tech said.
DeMarco watched as Hopper approached. He was a good-looking guy, a couple inches taller than DeMarco. He was dressed casually in a lightweight jacket over a T-shirt, jeans, and running shoes-he was dressed like a man ready for action. The way he was dressed also matched the story he’d given DeMarco, which DeMarco suspected was pure bullshit.
“You’re late,” DeMarco said, when Hopper reached the pitcher’s mound.
“Kiss my ass,” Hopper said.
“And I still don’t understand why we had to meet out here in the middle of the damn night.”
DeMarco said that because he figured the complaint would be expected, but Hopper had already told him why they were meeting at this time of night. Hopper’s lie was that he was part of an FBI surveillance team watching some bad guy around the clock, and this was the only time he could break away. The park had been chosen for the rendezvous because it was close to the location of Hopper’s fictitious surveillance team. DeMarco suspected the real reason Hopper wanted to meet at midnight was that there would be less chance of anyone seeing Hopper kill him, particularly if Hopper took him into the woods near the ball field.
“I already told you why we’re meeting now,” Hopper said. “So just get to it, DeMarco. What do you want?”
“I told you what I want. I want to know what the hell’s going on with my cousin. I know you falsified his autopsy report and I think you’re covering up why Paul was really killed.”
“He was killed because he was peddling meds.”
“You gotta quit lying to me, Hopper. It won’t work. I know this isn’t about drugs.”
“Oh, yeah,” Hopper said. “What do you know?”
“I know a Washington Post reporter is missing, and right before Paul was killed the reporter was headed toward the Iwo Jima Memorial.”
Ask him how he knows that.
“That’s him!” Dillon said.
The man who had just spoken was the man who had directed the operation at the Iwo Jima Memorial. Tonight, however, he wasn’t using encrypted radio equipment-most likely because the equipment was too bulky-and Claire’s technicians were easily able to lock in on his radio frequency and listen to him talking to Hopper. It appeared that just as DeMarco was wired so Dillon could hear him and give him orders, Hopper was wired so Cadillac could hear Hopper and give him orders. Dillon smiled. It was like DeMarco and Hopper were two radio- controlled robots, their speech and movement controlled remotely by their masters.
As soon as Dillon said, “That’s him,” Alice said, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot. Cadillac is your target. We’ve lost satellite coverage so you will not-I repeat-you will not lose Cadillac when he departs.
Delta, Echo, and Foxtrot were Alice’s spotters-and the agents Claire had assigned to follow and identify Hopper’s boss. Their job was the most critical part of the operation. Their job, in fact, was the operation since the only reason Dillon had wanted DeMarco to meet with Hopper was so Hopper could lead them to the man they now called Cadillac.
The only thing that remained to be done at this point was to keep DeMarco alive and, frankly, keeping DeMarco alive was secondary to identifying Cadillac.
“How do you know about the reporter?” Hopper said.
“Traffic cameras,” DeMarco said. “I asked that cop, Glazer, to look at them.”
He’s lying. That was Cadillac speaking.
“You’re lying,” Hopper said.
“I also know General Breed was Paul’s last patient,” DeMarco said.
“Yeah, you already told me that. How’d you find out about Breed?”
“I found out because I know how to get information out of people. I also know one of the last people to see Breed before he died was Charles Bradford.”
“What?” Hopper said.
When Dillon heard Hopper say what? it sounded to him as if Hopper was genuinely surprised to hear Bradford’s name, which made Dillon wonder if Hopper even know about Bradford’s role in this whole thing. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just signed Hopper’s death warrant. Knowing the connection between Breed and Bradford was what had gotten Paul Russo killed.
Ask him what he wants.
That was Cadillac speaking to Hopper again.
“What do you want, DeMarco?” Hopper said. “Money to stay out of this thing?”
“No, I don’t want money. I just want to know what’s going on.”
Dillon smiled when he heard this; DeMarco was a stubborn bastard.
Tell him that Russo is a classified op and you need to know where he’s getting his information from.
“Okay, I’m gonna level with you,” Hopper said. “Russo’s death is connected to a classified operation, and that’s why I had to take the case away from Arlington and why I haven’t been straight with you. You’ve stumbled into something way over your head, pal, something related to national security, but that’s all I can tell you. So now you listen to me. I need to know who’s feeding you information, and don’t tell me fuckin’ traffic cameras.”
“No, no,” DeMarco said. “I’m not buying that classified national-security crap. You feds chuck that out whenever you want to hide the truth.”
“DeMarco, goddammit, I’m telling you the truth. And if you don’t tell me what I need to know, I’m gonna call your boss and get your dumb ass fired for sticking your nose into an FBI case after you were told to back off.”
DeMarco doubted Hopper knew who his boss was, but he didn’t say that. Instead he said, “You’re not gonna talk to my boss, because if you do, I’ll have to tell him what you’re up to-and then you’ll have Congress all over your ass.”
Hopper, make him talk. Take out your gun and threaten to kill him. Shoot him in the knee if he doesn’t
